Saturday, September 5, 2015

Mimi - Mona Poetry: Cruel Intentions

“People who judge others tell more about Who They Are, than Who They Judge.” ― Donald L. Hicks, Look into the stillness

“Don't be too busy judging others that you forget to attend to your personal flaws.” ― Edmond Mbiaka

©Cruel Intentions
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

S/He failed to follow their frail, hard hearts
into the fallow, unhallowed ground.

The insecure, obscure,
insincere souls,
poisoned by their
self-appointed and shared
sense of injustice
and the sheer unfairness
of their invisibility,
chose to leave their mark
in the form of a wound
and a lasting scar.

Intent? To blame the innocent
of untrue offenses.

Mothers warned their children
that most accusers
lay the blame on someone else
when it is they themselves
who have done said crime
—will do it again
(to others before
it is done to them)
so they can experience
self-righteous justification.

The purpose of such
furor (of what Bellow,
after Wyndham Lewis,
called the Moronic Inferno)?

That through their
judgement without
evidence and without
questions to accused,
the innocent,
the unsuspecting victim
 should feel
like a war criminal
and find himself,
or herself,
pilloried before going up
in shameful ashes,
to disappear,
and to be shunned by all
after their all-out
—public attack
on his/her character and words.

Sorry, kin and kindred.
S/He doesn’t.
Acquaintances are more
faithful than you.

The character and words
in question need no
defending to the intentional
misreading by the malicious
who chose sealed doors
to their social media war room,
that excluded their victim,
for their private plans and plots
to shroud unsuspecting friends
with their bitterness and lies.

Depressing is the knowledge
their complaints are
vexatious and
faite de mauvaise foi;
they are too much
in a conspiratorial climax
to see the trees in
the painting of the forest.

And, too, a continued
ironic spectacle from those
once considered intelligent...
they still take hostage
those considered his/her friends
and acquaintances,
and continue
to take up their
contemptuous poison
ensuring their attacks
are hidden from the innocent.

Beware all who happily share
your joy and possessions
freely and without expectations.
There will be repercussions
from those close but whom
are unable to see it is
their own discontent.

Monday, August 31, 2015

Mimi-Mona Poetry: Love Preserves

©Love Preserves
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

You can’t let the weight of forever
suffocate you; breathe in ME
and think of the first time
you caught me on your tongue.
You said it was like catching
the first flakes of a fresh snow.
That made your words feel like a winter holiday
over every pore of my skin and
I wanted to cut paper snowflakes
and hang them in my desert windows
to remind me of that gooseflesh morning
on days you aren’t with me.

My bloodshot eyes are bruised
with the poetry I pretend I never write
for you, about you, about us;
but, it’s neglect that will kill
the butterflies caged by my ribs,
the ones I felt the day I knew I loved you.
Nothing is as soothing and
reassuring as the breathy whispers
slipping through your lips,
like Apollo’s music,
to dance on my skin.
Given to me... parts of you,
the parts you believe you can do without,
along with unspoken promises of
tomorrows you’re afraid might come.

Those few empty boxes I found
and packed away in my closet
are safes now; they guard
all the yesterdays of us together
with space enough for a
galaxy of tomorrows.
When our wrinkles
become longer than our
varicose veins and memories,
and our rocking chairs sing,
I will paint us as feelings deposited
and banked in those boxes
and call it: Love Preserves.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Mimi-Mona Romantic Poetry: What If

WHAT IF you fall in love with the wrong person? They're already taken? There's a quote credited to Woody Allen that states:

"The heart wants what it wants.
There's no logic to these things.
You meet someone and you fall in love
and that's that."

But, what if that is not that? What if it's the right person at the wrong time?

©What If
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

Oh, fuck what “they” say.
At the end of the day, we all mess up;
we love the wrong people;
we count the bad twice as much as the good.
I read a quote today—
it doesn’t matter whose quote it was;
they all mean something different
to each one of us;
but this quote, well—
it took my fucking breath away.
It made me so afraid...
What if I’ll never be ready for love?
Ready to love?
Ready to give myself away?
Love is beautiful;
it’s a beautiful nightmare.
What if I fall so fast
for the taste of your poison
I think I am “inlove”?
What if I fall “inlove”
and discover I don’t belong there?
What if I fall “inlove” so hard
that I bruise my knees
and my heart?
What if being “inlove” is like dreaming
and I don’t want to wake
only to discover it’s not a dream,
that being “inlove” really
feels no different than dying
and I really can’t wake up?