Lola
Nation
Id
I have met you in
various traditions
stroked you distinctly in belief
that you were mystical
till you lay quiet and meditate
myself,
unsatisfied
You associate
yourself between
mind and time
Both lost
as far as I am
concerned
When catering to
your degrees
of separation, self-knowledge
enacts itself in a lonely crazed
world,
calls lack of desire an epiphany
near nirvana,
with no understanding
your here, my now
offer no
enlightenment
Trapped in your
illusion
a false dichotomy
manifesting in mistakes
defining physical attribution
to consciousness,
the skull of the plot to
dim lit
perspective
What does one do
without a common denominator
among society,
the ultimate identity
more powerful
than area to zip
codes?
Transcending
between perceived reality
to obnoxious insecure senses
of forefront
consciousness…
Your mental
architecture lacks
building blocks of psyche
necessary to brick and mortar the
reservoir of energy
of all mental
mechanics
Sadly,
still leading to one solemn place
where we can share in the same
primary skill of
sex
I wonder who loved
your mother more
Was it the boy in you
or the father who left for fear
of not being man
enough
How many years of
repression did you suffer
trying to uncover the super hero
in your family
for lack of father figure,
society
Did it make you
curious
Unhappy, or
confused?
Directions to
Revolution Blvd.
He calls me late at
night
He’s drunk, I bet he’ll stay up
Till the dirty sun makes its debut
Over Tijuana
puncturing the comfort
in his line of
sight
He tells me there’s
something about me
haunting him
full of regret,
he sloppily spills his remorse
on the table
Slurring promises
Drifting away
coming back again to
say
“There’s something
about you”
He says I know it’s
true
He’s not the only one
To have confessed this
He says he doesn’t know what it is
Then, contradicts himself
saying I deserve to know
what it is that makes them all
love me so
He says it was my eyes
Captivating, feline – brimming in
the color of envy
He over saturates the compliment
By saying, he wants to be in me…
My silence folds him again
with regret,
If I just go to Mexico,
he promises, he’ll repay the
debt.
Lola Nation is
from Venice Beach, Calif., presently residing in Kansas
City, MO. Her writing has been published in literary
magazines such as the racy Cherrybleeds Zine and urban
ThugWorks Magazine. Her current projects include
finishing her fictional book All the Men I Slept with
Volume I (accounting for a woman’s witty memoirs from
teenage-hood to early 30s) and a musical (adapted from
Shel Silverstein lyrics).
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