None eye pitied thee, to do any of these unto thee, to have compassion upon thee; but thou wast cast out in the open field, to the loathing of thy person, in the day that thou wast born.
And when I passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live; yea, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live.
.......Ezekiel 16:5-6
Time in a Bottle and No Valentine's Day for you!
Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’
Into the future
I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I’m free
Oh, lord, through the revolution
.........Steve Miller
The singer said, "Time keeps on slippin'
slippin' into the future...."
So many days flee and still I can't sleep
My soul is moving out beyond intended days
Just ain't enough ways to do what
I gots to do...
what I gots to do...
to die easy.
At night traffic holds its rush by and by,
headlights flash white and gold through my rooms,
lights of life passing paint walls.
The subcompacts beep beep like that skinny bird,
and howls of a dumb coyote
poke me with the whys of love,
my life one Looney Toon...
memories swoon, fall and bomb me
with family nights lost
no more laughter with four,
and the no more jolts me,
the brakes of pain
I hear the distant forlorn horn of trains and long to run,
but I'm the staying one
staying with daughter
staying with son
while a man runs off to chase the
bluebird of fun and delusional screws
I'm the one bruised.
The color of my madness is black and royal blue
I lie in snow on my backyard deck,
letting the frost bite me harder,
gaze at winter stars--
they twinkle and wink violet, amused
at illusions of time fleeing,
grin at complexities ants view
what's left, what's left of me,
that woman God saw as Israel,
unwanted, polluted in her blood,
no lover's eye to love me yet
The Rock cries, "Live!"
I've spun out like a wheel
spun out with Ezekiel
Whoa! Woe is me!
My soul is moving out beyond intended days
Just ain't enough ways to do what
I gots to do...
what I gots to do...
to die easy.
The whole point of life may indeed be to "die easy"... for that can only mean a life lived as it should be... and yes, that often means, to be the staying one, bruised and frost bitten, still longing.
Hey girl...you classic poet, you...if you had written nothing except
the portion about Ezekiel's wheels, you would have described to a "T" the visionary and motivational aspects of BiPolar artists.
Those wheels...going in several directions at once...yet with a definite purpose and outcome.
You are really a poet of poets, Frillie!
Reviewed by Judy Lloyd (Reader)
2/7/2005
Nordette is a very creative person and she writes well and one can get into what she writes.
Funny how this powerful flow of emotions and witnessing pulls one deep inside one's Self and forces confrontations with mirrors of consciousness reflecting all manner of spiritual light and darkness. The wheel turns with pain but it brings forth truth. Beautiful to behold.
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