Because You Scriptured Me

"I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go

Where the wind don't change

And nothing in the ground can ever grow

No hope, just lies

And you're taught to cry into your pillow

But I survived"  Alive ~ Sia

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When did the joy

of my heart become

your right to legislate?

I am counted among

those you’ve assigned

damnation because

a book of men scriptured

me vile.

Does ink and interpretation

mean more than life?

Does an attempt to break me

into your identity elevate

you in the eyes of God

or is it the throne of men

you cherish?

FREEDOM …

Will you deny mine

so your pulpit can

espouse yours?

©Susie Clevenger 2019

#NaPoWriMo2019

This poem is my response to Texas Senate Bill 17 recently approved by the Texas senate. This is personal for me. It effects family and friends. I understand if you have a different opinion, but I will not debate it. 

Real Toads ~ Asking Questions

Devil's Comedy

The forest floor sprouts angel wings:

the devil's attempt at comedy.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

#NaPoWriMo2019

Supposedly edible/recent years deadly

Real Toads ~ Toni's Prompt

When Text Meets Metal

My left leg looks

like bloated carrion,

a buzzard’s feast.

Healing from

another’s inattention

takes all my attention.

This morning begins

with standing on agony

and sweet talking my groans

into believing today

will turn a corner to less pain.

Twice my leg has escaped

the knife, limped away

from sever to hold me

upright in my screams.

How far is a shoe?

How impossible is

a shoe lace?

Today my cane and I

have one goal…to reach

my front door.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

It is written in present tense, but it comes from my experience of rehabilitating from a car accident in 2006.

#NaPoWriMo2019

 Real Toads ~ Reboot, Rewind, Recycle, Rebirth

A Headline East of Denver

We were a headline

east of Denver when

April joined us at the hip.

She was selling rain

by the bucket, and

bragging May

wouldn’t bloom

without her.

Two briefcases

closer to embracing

random we took

April’s hint and

curled into the

want ads to see

if Cupid had a condo

available next month.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

The Sunday Muse #52

Maybe a Poet ~ More Likely Insane

I am a stargazer,

dreamer, word gatherer

who lives in ink and

the rustle of paper.

Pictures speak, grass sings,

and I feel the color blue

in a hand full of sky.

I spend hours on nothing

and minutes on everything.

You never know where I am

when I’m sitting next to you.

I could be in a chair or walking

on the moon.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

#NaPoWriMo2019

Real Toads ~ I Am My Own Muse

Flesh and Mind

She’s heavy breasted,

brash suggestion,

a silk war with his flesh...

a liar’s tongue preaching

salvation is sin.

Poems shape shift on her lips,

erotic stanzas burning resist

from roped muscles on his thighs.

There’s no escape in the blind

mirror of closed eyes…Her fingertips

paint tremors that erase every

image his mind holds that’s not her.

She’s ice skating him through hell

to see how long it will take

for his conscience to melt.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

#NaPoWriMo2019

Real Toads ~ Poems of April 

Poetry As a Reality Check

(Not every April poem rains petals.)

Copy and paste,

share and not care,

spin a lie because

you choose to believe it.

Truth isn’t even on life support.

It doesn’t matter until you’re not free.

Twitter can’t save you when

your stomach’s empty, when

your child’s tummy swells

while limbs shrink.

Bitter widens the divide,

fingers point, tongues bait.

Anger’s the new religion,

humane’s no longer a word.

Wake up or die sleeping.

Kindness is shrinking

while rancor loosens its belt.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

#NaPoWriMo

Real Toads ~ You Are a Poet!

Any Weekend I Could Escape Gravel

Joint high and music driven

Kansas City lights guided me

to the rock vibrations

of Cowtown Palace.

Thirty first and Gillham

was the hum lane of engines

seeking the golden calf

of guitar jubilation.

Wood and concrete supported

hip to hip drug angels absorbing

tunes through every pore of flesh

and brain wave that worshiped rhythm.

Any weekend I could escape gravel

I traveled asphalt to a Kansas City Ballroom

where in the crush of dancing bodies

I felt forever twenty-one.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019

#NaPoWriMo2019

Real Toads ~ The Streets (of Brooklyn)

The Brave Side of The Pillow

The black heart of secrets

pressed into my young chest

and even a single breath of trust

had to travel miles of agony

to reach enough light to thrive.

When light left my windowsill

nightmares argued at the end

of my bed about which terror

would walk across my dreams.

I remember when the night voices

came to the brave side of my pillow,

and led me where shadows

had pretty colors and kind words.

Imagination tended my wounds

until it grew a name on my tongue

to address the tiny saviors who

lived in the valley of invisible.

Pillowkins, I called them Pillowkins,

dream warriors who giggled me

out of the jaws of a demon.

When nightmares clawed

my eyes into hollow,

my tiny army would

lead me to a place of peace

where the moon didn’t bleed

nor the fox stalk my throat

to see if truth was growing

strong enough to expose lies.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019

#NaPoWriMo2019

 Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform

Not the Same Playground

I was the fat girl,

you know the one

with the ruddy cheeks,

crooked teeth, and

thighs in constant chafe.

Bullies, yes, there were bullies.

They brought names, stones,

and an entourage of gigglers

giddy they weren’t the target.

Oh, but I’m no longer ten,

I’ve sharpened my tongue,

and dark gleamed my eyes.

If they want to reminisce

about how the chubby girl cried,

karma may write a new story.

#NaPoWriMo2019

Real Toads ~ Poems in April ! Riddikulus!

Etiquette

#NaPoWriMo2019

Real Toads ~ Just One Word ~ Etiquette