Oh Mary don't you weep:
tell yo' heart not to moan;
instead,
sing to your heart-----
songs of a journey's end.

Tell yo' molasses-----
syrupy skin
to breathe forth,
its original intention.

Tell yo' fig skinned lips-----
to parachute vibrations
of freedom.

Let yo' charred padded mouth-----
call forth sweetness
to yo' buxom breast.

Let the tumultuous badgering winds-----
beat back the vileness
of the weeds coiled
from songs of a journey's end.

Tell yo' roving eye-----
"be still the river gland,"
denouncing all entries,
all crossings to yo' Nile.

Nest yo' bantering heart-----
under crest wings of light;
cement yo' weather-beaten hands
in the evening dew,
of sunburst clouds.

Oh Mary don't you weep;
tell yo' heart not to moan;
instead,
sing to yo' heart-----
songs of a journey's end.

Tell yo' heart-----
you are now curtained
from the unforgiving sun that,
once stabbed,
once crisscrossed,
once flayed,
yo' unrest soul.

Tell yo' heart-----
you are now set free
from the buck-naked mind that,
raped and deflowered,
yo' innocence,
stole yo' honeysuckle youth.

Tell yo' heart-----
you are as fluffy as Kleenex,
soft as cotton,
springy as a spring board,
yes,

you are as rough and as tough as,
Old Scenic Highway,
where potholes,
and patched asphalt live to throttle,
mugging, hijacking.

Tell yo' heart-----
you are as hard as the bust
of Abe,
way out on ole' Mount Rushmore.
solid as the Rock;
that ole' Peter built his house on.
winding as the Silicon Valley,
joined at the hip of Santa Cruz.

Oh Mary don't you weep:
Tell yo' heart not to moan;
instead,
sing to yo' heart-----
songs of a journey's end.

Tell that little lumpy,
dumpy chocolate-coated girl,
once mocked,
once betrayed,
once denied,

To strut with the passion,
of Neferetti;
to sway with the savvy,
of Makeba;
to jutt with the dignity
of Mahalia.

Let the royal winds,
grace yo' every sensual gait,
layered in womanhood,
while dribbles of desires,
wet yo' delicious contemplation,
mount yo' sculptured back.
in towers of gold beads.

Peeked by yo' integrity,
ambiance,
fine spun by yo' salty,
knowingness for truth and wit.

Oh Mary don't you weep;
tell yo' heart not to moan;
instead,
sing to yo' heart-----
songs of a journey's end.


-----from my book of poetry entitled: Songs of a Journey's End...this as you know, if you have read the tetralogy, Laying Within the Mark, Book 1: Mary Garibaldi Powers Finishes the Dress But Not Without A Kick-N-Fit, is a poet's companion to the series

This is the first poem within my poetry book entitled Songs of a Journey's End. This poetry book is a poet's companion to the tetralogy Laying Within the Mark, the series