Saturday, July 30, 2016

The Bathroom



They removed
my sanctuary--
A bath filled with
Hours of play
sheltered by
Noah’s ark.


The vessel navigated
The flood of rapidly
Cooling water
and waves.
Animal doubles stayed
Safe in my wrinkled hands.


An observant mirror
Witnessed my adolescent
Fears and confusions,
Reflected my sadness
Putting makeup
On for the first time--
I was
No longer
Good enough.


Weighing in,
I fought the anguish
That malicious needle
blandly inflicted.

The medicine cabinet
Hid my magical bottle
Of violet perfume--
Gifted by a thoughtful Aunt.


Casually beside it was
A glass of liquid mercury,
Covered with kitchen foil.

When swirled around,
It looked like
A dog chasing its’ tail--
Each bead seeking reunion
With the welcoming whole.


Experts confirmed
An injection
would be lethal, yet
I feared this gentle poison
Less, than the amorphous toxin
Briefly neutralized
By flimsy doors.

Warm air laced with cedar
Allowed me to catch my breath
Before facing
What had already begun
Seeping in-
A constricted,
constructed life
In a room with no door.






Copyright  Diane Keys  


7/2016

Sunday, July 24, 2016

Broken Lifeline

Palms bleed red
At the crucifixion point­­--

Suffering to ease troubled travelers
Who forgo maps
And demand directions.

The body architect sends flares,
And grants permission
To abolish earned worth.

Locate the unformed baby,
Grieve play turned tragic.

Callous grips seek gentle hands
To soothe them.

Hearts turn blue
When love bleeds out.






copyright
Diane Keys
7/2016

Saturday, July 23, 2016

Sutured Wounds

Sutured wounds made of gut
Never had time to dissolve
Before you tore them open.

My golden thread
Became blind to the eye.

Exposed bone on public display
Dared others to enter
Your gruesome fiction.

I lost myself in the bloody war
Inside your head.
It seemed justified,
And your pain was generous.

You extracted brains
And joys
From faceless enemies
Through the filter
Of An entitled child.

Your smokescreen
Of fury and fear,
Demanded replacement
For what was taken from you­­,
Prices paid.

The shadow of your emptiness
Retreated only in darkness.

I left your army of one
When I became
A character in your story,
With no happy ending,
Just an end.





copyright
Diane Keys 7/2016

Video journal -- It's normal


Saturday, July 16, 2016

Mail Art to the Hobbit

Was driving one day and saw the most amazing thing. On what looks to be its own large plot of land was this:





I wanted to know the mind behind this magical and creative construction and then I noticed the adorable little mailbox!  I decided that I just HAD to send mail art to the Hobbit who lived here. I hoped for a return, but didn't really expect one. 

This is the letter I wrote:



Then lo and behold, I received an envelope from.....the Hobbit!!!!





Such a beautiful card and note. I wasn't even sure the Hobbit spoke English much less could write! I am anxious to write again as I have so many questions.

I will update here if I get another response!!!