Mama, Help Me

I am sharing the post here of my dear friend Jennifer Dickinson…she is of the same ilk as I am, bone of Mama’s bone, and a prophetess in training…which is always a fucking bloody MESS!!

I have written scores of “Mama Poems”…and this one I would be proud to have in that pantheon!

Mama, help me! Please be real Mama, help me! Hold my hand This absolute brilliance To see things as they truly are is more than I can bear alone Mama, help me…help me…help me I listened…

Source: Mama, Help Me

Mud-Spittled Eyes On A Rainy Fall Sunday Morning

AAAAHHH!!  I had forgotten this poem!  I am reposting here for new readers…

Mud-Spittled Eyes On A Rainy Fall Sunday Morning It’s the glory of eyes, being blessed to be opened with mud sweat and spit, blind eyes become other and seeing What others insist isn’t …

Source: Mud-Spittled Eyes On A Rainy Fall Sunday Morning

 Kintsukuroi

During the election I am writing mostly on Facebook…and little poetry right now.  So I am gunna press some older poems for some newer readers.

I encourage you to explore the blog, for there is LOTS of poetic content!!

time is the greatest distance between two distant places… me then.  me now. Today I am grateful for that excruciating powerlessness I felt over and over again and again as a young child and I…

Source:  Kintsukuroi

Of Rain On Rooftops

and it is in night…
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like a babe in fresh blankets
snuggled and seeing,
quiet and jumping

in jammies with footies
singing of safety,
hot chocolate and nibbles,
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then raindrops on rooftops
tingtingtingthrumthrumthrum
silver tin foil lightning

slashing thru thick dark air
that quivers and tears
then closes again
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with thunderclap rolling
and rain steady hissing
down quiet and soothing

and shushing and rushing
and we settle, snuggle
and Autumn is come

to quiet our soul
and gladden
our hearts
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At Ease In Zion

the punching of one’s own face, one’s own eyes
the throwing of sawdust at everyone
the bashing of beams against dull skull bone
the grunting, squee of rooting pigs alone
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the missing of the point that TRUTH is making
the wallowing in anything that soothes
retreat into the silly absurd argue
and justice once again goes barefoot begging
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and dust is waiting to be shook off hard
and sandals poised for good news feet on mountains
but walkers sit instead and argue small things
minutiae in the unconnected moments
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wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up wake up
charissa tears her face with fingernails
as justice wanders barefoot, wanders begging
diogynes gives up searching, gives up hope
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and so the question remains here resounding
WHO WILL STAND AGAINST INJUSTICE NOW?
now now now now now now now now now NOW???
does anyone have knees that bend or straighten
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and courage to set scripture off its leash?
To stand with widow, stranger and oppressed?
Or just in filthy rags preening and dressed??
You stand condemned and lay at ease in zion
trump-voter

Onions

A BEAUTIFUL work by a really fine writer!!  Robert Okaji!

“Onions My knife never sings but hums instead when withdrawn from its block, a metallic whisper so modest only the wielder may hear it. Or perhaps the dog, who seems to enjoy the kitchen nearly as m…”

Source: Onions

Postings At Facebook

Dear Constance:

I have been posting a lot of thoughts on Facebook lately, seeking to use my social media account in a more active and aware way.

I have many thoughts about the avatar for our shadow selves known as Donald Trump.

We have met the enemy, and he is US.

If you want to read there, search Facebook for Charissa White and you can send me a friend request.  If you are an unknown person to me, please message me as well and identify yourself as a reader here on Grace Notes…and we can go from there.

If you do NOT identify yourself?  Likely I will ignore the request, simply because I get a lot of really creepy friend requests over there from military dudes, who post pics of themselves with their guns (surrogate penises) and their shirts off flexing…what about me says that this would be a good technique to make a connection with me???

In what world does it work to “attract a girl” by this means?
It repulses me and sickens me and I immediately block such as those.

Anyway…that is why I have not been writing much here.

Fear not…my blog will be here cus I am still and always jotting down poems and will post them as appropriate, and all my poetry goes here.

I want you all to know how grateful I am that you choose to read here…it is an honor.

Much Love,
Charissa
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Bones

I hear those glowy bones glowing,
those bones of mystery-menace bright
so dark inside their red cocoon
but white unto themselves alone
and full of lively light.
Incarnate Dead
The blood of bones in oceans vast,
the breathing moon’s silent contrast,
earth sweats her dew cooling and sweet,
rising to meet all thirsty feet
and bones stirring at last…
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To taste again of Love’s Birthright
and resurrection echoes loud
and everything restored, made new
from glowy bones Faithful and True
Bones blazing, Bones of Light
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A Pregnant Late Summer Moment

when fireflies all held their breath
and neither glimmered nor glammered
but just held…held…
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when soft tealights strung in trees
waltzed together in the breeze
soft, faint, sun-kist and sad

and you
and me

dancing into the velvet night
of hanging silks and wattled wine
and I am yours
and you are mine
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Singing In My Holy Heart

It took me there, it broke me there
on a sandy sliver midst some smooth black stones
so silent, sitting at the edge of this lake longing,
this tarn quiet, dark and clear

from deep inside my mouth
I felt my wet heart rise, surge burst…
I would’ve screamed forever

idididididididididid
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scream forever
but cannot get sound past the breaking
past the past and into and over
and thru
me

I’m so full (there’s more)
I can’t take any (more)
I struggle to breathe
and then I relax
into…(what?)

herherherherher
HerHerHerHerHer
HERHERHERHERHER
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pushing deeper
into-from
my mouth

and I desperate while stars dance
burst, birth, explode, rip right from my heart
my lungs my breasts bright surging
glorygloryglorygloryglorygloryGLORY

I am me spread-eagled
beneath Her velvet verses,
(me)
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my legs slick, straining against air surging
ebbing, words liquid raging flowing pushing
tearing thru me and me and me
quicksilver soul, a lake, a mirror
shattered by this Stone
unseemly and perfect,
Huge and Lacey
Light and Heavy
Her (r)ock
mmmmm

flung down from faraway
(who knows where?)
and into this lake
(mmmmmmmmmm)
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and a million murmuring moaning circles
pushing outward sliding downward
groaning upward thru this water
sainted, and that Air, each circle
almost pulls me beneath under
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I am buried living-forward
I’m resurrected dying-backward
I am stained forever always after
with that pungent glory,
with Her Glory running down
my chin and from my lips so wet
and thus I shiver deep within
all the way from my down-low throb
to the very roots of my
ecstatic shining hair
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She pulls Her hand out, slowly wraps
Her arm around me…I curl up
and drift off, musky fragrances anointing,
smearing my eternal cheeks

singing in my hol(e)y heart
singing in my whol(e)y heart
singing in my holy heart
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The Holiness Of Empire

the blood and tears
of that close horizon
blinking, blinking,
dropping falling
as day fades out
and night creeps up
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and what of empire…
or is it Empire
and how
it sanctifies itself
in the blood
of many martyrs
in the tears
of all the saints
and quenches
every thirst
in the wailings
of the haints
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what is the holiness of Empire?

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It is rapacious lust it is
the Power in powerful
it is everquesting MUST
transmogrification of
lovesongs into laments
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and the only sacred left
bleeds and weeps
while gnashing teeth
rip tender skin
and the privileged feast
on famine
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While You Were Saying It

It’s bigger than a blue canyon,
that place my orphic words live
and come down from,

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a canyon with one end anchored in eternity
and one end tipping into whatever
“-ality” … “-ernity” we dwell in
right here in River City.

I reach up and pull down Words
like apples golden or ripe peaches soft
fragrant and newly fuzzy insistent

and throw them into that canyon blue
blewsy runny and streaked in greys
and oranges (like rock sunsets)

Image result for a blue canyon

…but those words…

those words
reduce
those words
shrink
and become
small,

as small in your eyes as they
are big in my head and
what was once limitless
is now merely living

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and that makes me lonely
and feeling like

I got too close to important truth
too close to your secret hiraeth heart

buried in your soul’s backyard
like some long loved lost bone…
so you just look at me funny
and shoo me away with

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blinking eyes and wagging head
as if not grasping what I said,
as if not seeing my words or me.

But do you not see me
and see yourself
in the seeing of me?

You almost cried
while you were saying it!

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The Ship Inside My Head

There’s a ship inside my head
It sails upon the seas
that stretch out from my bed
to the far shore of me
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sometimes it runs aground
because the tide is out
and blind men think me drowned
and beached deep in their drought
I hope this was low tide.:
But tides, well they run true
they go, and then return
with glad tidings of you
that splash my bow, my stern
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And my sails bloom once more
and dance upon the breeze
I slice thru waves, I soar
set free from my dis-easeae0f568f980256327127a3d52e0d549cTo sail, to skim beneath
the moon there in Her bliss
and I wrapped in Her wreath
and sainted by Her kiss…
Daniel Merriam...: there’s a ship inside my head
I sail the ancient seas
of greens, and blues, and red
I sail the seas of me
Waiting for the Tide - Print by Cathrine Campbell:

So On The Mend (For Jae)

and you just let that anger
fall out of your sky so deep
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meteors, comets, hurtling
heating, skizzing in
and crash landing

on your fiercely beating heart
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so never giving up
so never giving in
so keeping keeping on

and now so on the mend
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True North

that passing
parade of people
flashes by, spinning
roulette wheel
KLAKLAKLAK
LAKLAK

klak     klak
KLAK

tumblr_noypg7py1z1s5u2cno1_5001and in the midst but set apart
and singled out from time to time
and separated from the herd
and from the heard and from the hearing

distant from particular promise
feeling so far from God’s presence
or God’s forgiveness because something’s
blocking our view of God’s sweet mercy

I
think
it is WHITE
Double OUGHT

Image result for white double ought

and the house wins again and preens
in false humility and slings
blame upon us Double Zeros
skewing vision til it seems

God has truly overlooked us and that’s not justice, it’s just us… 

It’s that inconsistency between
things we thought we knew
and things we deeply feel,

and yet

Desire is our compass
bloody, steady, unblinking.

It points to our True North
and leads us home
against all odds

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Like Blood And Oxygen

breathing underwater,
these ancient words waves,
and these timeless thoughts
tides, and beacons…

my breath, my lament
(like blood and oxygen)
held tight within my chest,
and crushed by the familiar

finally rushes out,
released exposed expression
of an anguished soul,
a suffocating heart
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what was true for all,
of All ‘neath the sun
was not true for me,
me, here without air

cast careless away
(chummed over the side)
remnants of shame bubbling
out thru my clenched teeth
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and sinking, sinking, drowning,
praying for a whale
or even just a school
of plankton-kissed bright breath

and then against my will
my chest constricts, it heaves,
and bucks…glory oh glory
at last it’s true for me

and I am, finally
breathing underwater
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Prudence, Justice, Strength

“Practice prudence by bringing wisdom
to our decisions and refraining from
taking unnecessary risks.

Practice justice by asking questions
about those who have less than we do,
looking for root causes of injustice
and ways we can respond.

Practice courage by considering
those places in lives where
we experience fear
and self-limitation.

Carry a sense of strength
to whatever life brings us
and a willingness to go
into unknown places
for the sake of growing closer
to God and to our
own deep desires.”

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD Desert Mothers and Fathers: Early Christian Wisdom Sayings Annotated and Explained

Which of these practices (prudence, justice, courage, a sense of strength) do you most want to nurture in yourself?
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