The Three AM Poet

Sometimes when I have had a very busy day, thinking hard and taking things seriously, I can’t sleep. The windmill fronds in my mind are still turning, even with no wind to impel them. Then the faeries take a hand. They think it is very odd that I continue to take things so seriously even when there is nothing left to take. (Truth to tell, they think I take things too seriously, period. They think I should be called Jessica Sirius Macbeth so I could take my black dog with me everywhere — seriously mixed mythical metaphors.) So I sit up, switch the computer on, and write. I do not claim responsibility for what comes out, but I don’t deny it either. Here are some small poems (of sorts) written while the windmill unwinds…

Be Safe

Often in this land I hear
the parting words resound,
“Be safe!”
But what if I don’t want a life
of safety, what if I’d rather have
a life lived somewhere
near the edge —
a life where I can
walk out
take a deep breath
lean out into the incoming air.

What if
being safe is not
what life is about?
What if
there is no safe place, safe path,
safe journey?
What if
we are our own worst hazards
and we are born to danger
like a fish is born to water?
What if
O Universe is only truly happy
when it gets us out there
somewhere
in our underwear
or nothing left at all?

What if…

What if
the Rapture came
in the middle of the night
and in the morning
we rejects went out to find
tinfoil hats
zoot suits
strait jackets
worn red spike-heeled shoes
with one spike broken halfway?
Or a pair of red silk thongs
slung across
tinfoil underpants —
all scattered on the pavements?
Would we realize
from this strange detritus
that we were the crazy ones
and
that what god/dess really wanted,
what she was growing on this world
was the trippers, the daily
roller-coaster riders,
the wild-eyed ones
who wear their clothes backwards,
the oddities, the ones who can’t stop laughing,
the ones who walk through the park, shouting,
“The locusts have stolen my honey!” —
the ones living
on the very edge of glory?

Got It

The other day
I wrote some pagan stuff
and a friend (who sometimes thinks
he is not a pagan) said,
“I didn’t understand what you said —
but I think I got it anyway.”

It has taken me two days to realize
that this is a quintessentially
pagan statement.

I remember one time
the goddess told me
that she wanted me to
give up all of my defenses.
“It’s the only way,” she said,
“To become invulnerable.”

NonoNO, shrieked Logic
YES! O YES! shouted Intuition

It all makes sense
if you turn the kaleidoscope around
and look in its mirrors
upside down
and around the corners.

Corners are
another kind of reality.

Conclusion

Sometimes, when life gets especially absurd,
I look at O Universe and say,
“Hmmm. I see that You are very silly too.”
And I hear,
faint in the distance,
cosmic giggles.

I just wanted you to know that we have a lot of silliness and fun here…

© Copyright 2016 by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.
P.S. I guess I should also say that this was written in the middle of the night, but when the windmill finally stopped, there wasn’t even enough silliness left to push “send” and therefore I am pushing it now.

Categories: Bio

4 thoughts on “The Three AM Poet

  1. Middle of the night
    is often when
    I am compelled
    to write

    I always enjoy yours
    and the same
    for mine 🙂

  2. Wow, Jesa this is amazing stuff there “kiddo”, well written poetry and very, very compelling! Your muse has been very, very busy! And good thing, because Jessica is an amazing poet, and artist.

  3. “I remember one time
    the goddess told me
    that she wanted me to
    give up all of my defenses.
    “It’s the only way,” she said,
    “To become invulnerable.””… … love this, Jessica!

    It reminds me of a poem I saw once that starts with… “I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic and She said Yes!”

    Thanks for sharing your 3am mind with us.
    Judy

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