fallback

and denial creeps in

it has a way about it

surreptitious silent habitual 

the fallback the go to the familiar

a wise mechanism protective safe

a comforting womb warm embracing

here, have a cup of tea brewed with birth water

steeped in disappointment

welcome settle in denial kisses the top of your

head sings lullabies into your ears 

you sleep you float you cope once again

©Karen Casady2018

boundary

and now I’m confused

put off and cut off by

a boundary a line in

the sand that cannot be

crossed I cannot forget

the image of you throwing

a tantrum the drama of which

belonged on stage but for the fact

that was really happening in front of

me as I silently watched unable to

process it because I have never borne

witness to such behavior and for that I

am grateful and no I was

not afraid nor was I angry instead I sat

in quiet disbelief to the episode that unfolded

before me and as quickly as you started you ended

not because you caught yourself but because somehow

you’d finished what you had to say nay scream nay howl

nay roar though that word implies the king of beasts

the lion in all its magnificence and glory

neither of which describe what I watched and now when

I look at you I can’t forget that you were that person even

as you go back to being yourself I cannot forget the violence

that became your demeanor and how easily you transformed and

how I now weigh the possibilities of enduring another momentary loss

of control and how now I am wont to confront you even gently for fear

of a repeat performance so yes now, I am cut off and put off by a boundary a line

in the sand that cannot be crossed because I cannot forget what happened

©Karen Casady2018

apparition

my dear madam

might I join you in that

shot of vodka though I

feel certain of your answer

you must hear me out for I

want only to participate in your

triumph to aid you in your endeavors

flattered that I am how could I possibility

hold sway over you I mean not to cast a

shadow over you but rather to be your shadow

a mere apparition a slight phantom an admiring daydream

who slips into your mind and body

in this singular act I cannot be stopped

©Karen Casady2018

singular

my dear sir

busy though you maybe I

retain the right to be busier and

that my oeuvre might take precedence

over yours that the stuff of my doing

and being overrides all attention I may

or may not confer upon you and  

how dare I not have time for you

and your roguery your enticements and

your bustle ever so beguiling enough to distract

me from my singular purpose of mastery and 

attainment that I would even allow such a thing to

to come between me and triumph but 

you beckon and I resist you enchant and I waiver 

you fascinate and I am spellbound to the degree that only a splash of cold water upon my face and 

a shot of vodka chugged can return me to 

my state of determination

©Karen Casady2018

Invitation

invite yourself? 

yes of course

why don’t you

first time

last time

an intrusion upon my sacred ground

no more

never again

ask though you might

the answer will be no

always no

you trampled my cherished garden

tried to make it your garden

it will never be your garden

you are a weed

here swallow some DDT

©Karen Casady2018

dust

And what about that

braying anger and that 

beastly shouting and the 

raucous stomping of your feet

a violent stampede meant to 

upend and trample all reason and

symmetry to disable sanity in hopes of

dragging the rational into the depths of

dark confrontation where the muck of 

life comes apart and tornados rage with 

only the intent of destruction and obliteration 

and I sit and take note and wait till the storm

passes and search my integrity and find that I

am intact and unharmed but you combusted and

now lie on the floor disguised as a contrite pile of

shit destined to dry into non-amendable dust

©Karen Casady2018

When I bought my first pair of

hiking boots my mother said, 

“What do you need THOSE for?”

To which I retorted, “For hiking.”

And she waved me away with a flick

of her hand.

When my daughter bought 

her first pair of hiking boots I said,

“THOSE will last a long time.”

To which she replied, “An investment.”

And I nodded as I laced up my 

old worn brown lovelies.

©Karen Casady2018

 

bromance

you choose

him or 

me

bromance or

romance

though I admit to

a lack of romance and

perhaps to a liking of those

evenings alone 

eating friendly strawberry crepes while

watching luscious chic flicks then

sprawling alone on our bed

falling asleep feet tucked under the hound

©Karen Casady2018

In response to Douglas MacKinnion’s article “How Long Will I Be Allowed To Remain A Christian?” (http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2018/04/21/how-long-will-be-allowed-to-remain-christian.html)

Hey dude. Man up and quit your whining. 

We Jews have put up with anti-semitism for two thousand years. And, oh wait. Who came up with the idea of Jews as Christ killers? Oh let me think. 

And, oh wait. Crusading Christian knights heading to the Holy Land to free it from Islam stopped along the way to slaughter Jews. Why wait to get to the Holy Land to murder infidels. 

Oh, and the Spanish Inquisition. Adopt Christianity or die. And, oh wait.The granddaddy of all. The Final Solution. Six million Jews gassed, shot, starved simply because, wait for it, they were Jews.

So dude, quit your whining. 

You folks have done your darnedest to rid the world of us folks. Unabashedly and unapologeticly. So we Jews have our doubts over your concerns. You are, after all, the majority. You do, in fact, wield great swaths of power.

And, oh wait. Much to your consternation, we Jews seem to survive. Tenaciously and unapologeticly. And, you folks seem to forget that Jesus was a circumcised Jewish man preaching to his fellow Jews. Oh, how quickly that is swept under the rug. 

Hey dude. Man up and quit your whining.

©Karen Casady2018

mythology

She bought into his mythology.

Counted her change. Penny by penny. 

She plunked down her fortune.

Of course she did. 

For better or for worse. In sickness and in health.
She’s always there. She believes. She needs to believe.
Anything. Everything. Or there is nothing. 

A void. 

A vastness too broad to cross. 

The soles of her feet burn as she tries. The soul of her heart sears through her brain. Seals her eyes, nose and mouth. So she stumbles without vision and worships her god. 

©Karen Casady2018

Liar

They lied. 

He lied.

The most powerful man in this country.

He lied. 

I cannot tell a lie, George Washington

The cherry tree

What happened to I cannot tell a lie

The most powerful man in this country

Oh let’s just lie about it, they said

Let’s just make up a story

I paid him back

So he says now

After deciding to lie

Lying trumps truth saying

And the believers say, see we knew it

And the truth sayers flabbergasted fall silent

And even the comics can’t laugh

And we wonder where the monks are

The ones who poured fuel upon themselves

Lit a match and burned for hypocrisy 

They’d be called mad men

Their charred remains blown away

©Karen Casady2018

birth day 4/18

Birth day. Day of birth. The

day we pop out of our 

mothers’ vaginas. We squall.

We protest. We beg for 

return. For none of us ever dream

of leaving the womb. We miss

its warm liquid darkness We

long for its steady beating heart. 

Most of us feel the immediate embrace of 

loving arms. Steadfast. Comforting. And 

kisses. Millions of them planted in upon

our tiny soft heads. 

But some of us pop out and we wait 

to hear a beating heart. And we wait 

for loving arms. And kisses. For us that
is our normal. Because we don't know. 

Later, we wonder what happened. 

©Karen Casady2018

for better or worse

“Why do you stay married to her?” you ask.

the difficulties between them magnified by multitudes of acrimony… by charmlessness… by a never-ending cramp in your wellbeing… a gut-wrenching tableau endlessly unfolding

“For better or worse,” he responds.

worse is better than better… better is worse than worse… the hell?... worse is better than nothing… nothing is better than worse… better never happens

“Fine,” you say. “Fine.”

you shake your head… throw up your arms… better or worse falters… fades… drops away… drained to sodden drivel… a sudden puddle splattered… a big bang… you are gone

©Karen Casady2018

safety

so you go through the motions of

living and loving and you do stuff for

appearances and sometimes you feel

content and sometimes not but mostly

you walk between fair and middling hovering

above okay and just so to achieve your day but

sometimes you wonder about beyond the middle

about ecstasy or utter despair yet these things elude

you so you build a wall of invisible stasis and no one knows

how empty safety can be

©Karen Casady 2018

nest

when you realize it is

torn to shreds fine pieces that 

curl and float nothing hurts as they

flick and bounce around you landing

for a moment as you blow them away 

these ashes of the past remnants burnt solids

all that is left but you nestle among them and 

make a soft empty nest surrounded by the 

vastness of loss from which there is 

no return

no sound 

only silence

©Karen Casady 2018

 

daytime blur

hidden from view

buried in lost time

nighttime secrets become

daytime blurs spinning quiet

disasters awkward with

blown out words and nonsensical 

expressions and blank faces all around

because a hundred times ago a

million seconds before a trusted hand

covers her mouth while stars shimmer

on the ceiling and her body explodes from

the lightness the touch but 

her mind screams no all too late

because it is done 

©Karen Casady 2018

spittoon

He chews tobacco.

She hates it.

He has a brass spittoon under his desk.

She hates it.

His teeth are yellow

She hates them.

Always the pouch. The orange pouch. 

She hates that too.

He takes a pinch. The brown fragrant leaves.

She hates the stink. 

He invites her to chew. 

She hates him.

Why do you stay married to her I ask.

For better or worse he says.

©Karen Casady 2018

dalliance

and one more time she

appeared and appearances

count for something especially when

they occur in a dream during a long night’s dalliance

when restoration of the mind is essential and 

tensions melt away not accumulate; but she moved 

through the night doing odd things as characters who inhabit dreams often do; and though the details now elude me; shattered by dawn; shredded by sunlight; the concept of her returns once again; and hangs as sultry translucent threads swaying willy-nilly in 

disturbing nonsense 

©Karen Casady 2018

bag

perchance the self righteous
the always right
the always knowing
the only one way
the no other way
and the indignation
and the anger
stuffed into the bag
that you are left holding
writhing and misshapen even though
the job is done and
everyone has walked away
including you
©karen casady 2018

bowl of cereal

upset angry put out out of sorts

find the adjective

take out the thesaurus

run down the list

jagged early morning serotonin levels

fly up and down at amazing rates

cause head explosions

tired tweaked whacked jerked

maybe the weather

maybe mercury in retrograde

maybe solar flairs

maybe just get up

maybe just have a bowl of cereal

©karen casady 2018