The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age

    That Girl speaks the word.

    By Oxy Mora on Thu, 12/15/2011 - 11:38am |

     

    They all lived over near Justin's pass,

    the center of gravity for throw-backs,

    rebounders from God-less frontiers,

    a trove of Aryan-migration enders. 

     

    Inside a cabin in an Appalachian hollow

    the little girl was hidden from others;

    God's will---never to hear spoken words---

    she was safe from the sins of the world.

     

    In silence with her mother, the girl listened

    to thunder, cackling, and leaves skittering;

    alone, she would sound-out mourning doves,

    her mind a cache of words un-uttered.

     

    Mother ended the word-killing spree:

    "Now, girl, give your heart to God".

    "God!", the girl bedeviled the woman---

    "God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

     

     

    Oxy Mora.

     

     

    Comments

    Actually meant this to go into the Creative Corner. Thanks. (I'm challenged)


    by Oxy Mora on Thu, 12/15/2011 - 11:42am

    Oh that's okay.

    The other day I posted a Peace On Earth Blog at some Aryan Militia site. hahahahaha

    By the way they let you delete it and then post it a creative. But who cares. We are running a little thin here anyway!

    I would very much like to render unto you the Dayly Poem of the Day Award for this here Dagblog Site, given to all of you from all of me however.

    The cabin in the woods metaphor was no mere metaphor to me since I spent a couple years in one as a child.

    I actually visited a one room cabin up thisaways a few years ago and I swear to Almighty God that the owner of this castle was a skinner--I mean he hunted fox and wolves and bears and skinned them in this ice box with a fireplace. The stench was horrific. He was on the outs with his kin. His land bordered his kin's land.

    No running water, no electricity...

    This guy rarely heard words spoken!

    Any rate, God why hast thou done this to me? I mean what a line!

    I have written oftimes of the hermit in the woods as contrasted from the hermit in the midst of the wood. Ulysses found another avenue for removing himself from the rest of humanity where there were few or even no voices:

     

     

     


    by Richard Day on Thu, 12/15/2011 - 2:02pm

    Thanks, Richard. My Dad was born in E. Ky. and when I was a boy we would cross the "Ohia Ocean" and go visit the "kin". Some of the images have stayed with me a life time. 


    by Oxy Mora on Thu, 12/15/2011 - 2:22pm

    Thanks again for your insightful comments, based on which I took the last line to the limit and switched around the title. 


    by Oxy Mora on Fri, 12/16/2011 - 9:47am

    Brilliant!  Lovely.  Thanks.


    by synchronicity on Fri, 12/16/2011 - 10:17am

    And thanks for your participation, reporting and fine writing on the Occupy movement. Whatever else happens I think OWS objectified the 1% in an indelible way which has made the "1% " commonplace terminology in the populace and punditry---no small achievement. 


    by Oxy Mora on Fri, 12/16/2011 - 11:22am

    The poem was based upon a story I read about a family in Kentucky. 


    by Oxy Mora on Thu, 04/05/2012 - 9:49am