Patriot

Were I God, I’d think to define, “win”
When creatures, injured, question lover’s sin

“Do hollow smiles somehow qualify?
Or emptiness so plain behind those eyes?”

“A hardened heart, absent a joy-filled beat
Make clear to me he re-mains incomplete”

“Your love, be sure it lingers on his soul
He dreads the days without you he grows old”

“He tallies daily losing you again
Discarded Darling, You were his sole “win””

(America has a birthday coming up.

I’m never one to want to miss a birthday — but how to offer celebratory wishes, given our current state of disunity?

The child of God in me has the utmost hope that Our Nation will heal and become unified. And, the child of God in me sees, too, that what America is holding right now is an over-rated, wrinkly, old flag.

But, Happy Birthday, America.

I love you.

-Lisa Mae

Photo Credit: Lisa Rosier;

American flag flying aboard the USS Lexington when Japan surrendered in 1945; On display at the National Naval Aviation Museum, Alabama)

miracle heart transplant

there is no Noah-gene abounding of me

no spin of the wheel offering another lifespan allowance equal to what you’ve long since spent

in silence, find truth

there is no infinite number of star-filled skies

no take-backs or do-overs, despite my shouts of forgiveness and this miracle heart transplant

in truth, find silence

Sky Askew

Where is the what

or the Who that explains

the oft’ fruitlessness

of my overall mess and the how I say yes long before I have said I know why?

When my proclivity

to touch humanity’s

innate toxicity

brings my doom, what is it that lauds me and steals the sharpest wits gifted me?