Bless me back to Ol’ Mississippi
Calling on the phone is Helen Tippie
She’s a nurse byootiful, suitable, and something exquisite
All her patients love her and can’t wait for that next visit;
But we be sending best hopes for that man of hers—
What’s going down is a sad bad curse;
With wishes and prayers that he gets all better
Cause he’s a lovely man, like an Irish setter.
And now let’s end this poem all quick and nifty
Gotta take this call from Helen Tippie—
Several paces past
The beginning and the end,
Comes the space wherein
We like to try it all over again;
Unsay that awful
Which was sorely said;
Get up earlier
And make the stupid bed.
Say goodbye later
And just hang a minute more or two;
Maybe life could be better,
Not this evermore darkening in blue.
Leavening choices cast
Between the close and over there,
We can render a space therein
We can go for the Happy rather than old soggy despair.
Yes, I do agree!
No, that doesn’t make you fat!
Please, of course I’ll wait for you—
You like me? Well, imagine that!
Half busted moon slides across
A night of not much else
Drums beat in a far corner
Quiet are all the Christians’ bells
Too early for sin on a Nawlins porch
Summer-weary friends meet to meet
John facebooks the yard to full
Rosemary arrives and all smiles turn sweet
Half busted moon brushes the wan horizon
People couple and make across the yard to part
John bides all to safely walk and drive
Some head to the Maple Leaf for some sinning to start
Drums warming in a far corner
Still quiet are all those Christian bells
A hot guitar lick kicks the night in gear—
Oh the promise Rosemary’s glinting eye tells
No one cares what words I sling.
No one cares what desperate prayers I sing.
All they want is a path to follow.
All you want is some truth to swallow.
I hear some lives matter more than most,
But I’ve stopped praying to the Holy Ghost.
Love Thy Neighbor is lost in the Six O’Clock News
And every Sunday empty are Holy Name’s prized pews.
My friend is a one hard working Mother;
She’s quite lovely, like none other.
Oh yeah, she’s one African-American
With a white friend— this Earthling man.
I’m sick of race, ‘cept the Triple Crown.
Love is an embrace, get That idea down!
Don’t need no politician to say what’s so;
Come on Earthlings, Life’s a party—Let’s GO!
Passing thru this life of insufficient glee
I wonder how much better it’d be if she
Would curl up in this place of scarred gloom
And help till some space for love to bloom.
How terrible to be caught in our webs of woe
Lacking energy enough for any friendship to grow;
Get up, reach up, and take this simple, offered hand—
Time for Wine and Smiles and Joy to make a stand!
Yes, a loss is a loss, a stern truth we all know,
But look to the other side of the coin: it’ll show
That we all go on, we all will move forward in the end,
And if you feel you’d like some help, I’d love to be your friend.
I fell in a hole inside myself*
But I’m looking for the way out.
Here I stand next to you,
Why can’t you hear me shout?
“Hug me! Help me! Like me!”
“Why am I still here?!”
[After all this gnawing time,
Shouldn’t things be more clear?]
Trauma is an overwhelming negative event*
Frozen up in your deep insides*—
Tears are the trauma as it melts,*
Getting better in slips and slides.
I found myself outside my hole
I’m sorry for all the fuss,
But, thanks for just being there
And getting me back on Life’s Crosstown Bus.
* Lines paraphrased from On living with depression and suicidal feelings | Sami Moukaddem | TEDxLAU