H.E-1.2.3

Close your eyes, this is gonna sting a little.

The morning will come 
with echoes of brevity.
A mordant threat; 
lacking my gravity

 omen in my chest
 won't allow me to speak.
My haphazard surgery. 
Soul starving; body weak.

I unravel once more
 Implantation for Anima
Thought I could fix this.

 But gone is my stamina

Hope weakens with time
and hope are  my stitches

best to put this to an end,
 Fuck sleeping in ditches
my silent immutable voice, 

try to deny my freedom
Don't I have a choice? 
This is prison!

 not me, never. not in ages. 
Stuck marching in line? 
I've been in those cages
I've served all my time.

 You want peace; 
you Speak of love.
 dry and dark well where
they shot down your doves!?

You said you're  Thirsty - 
Bitch- take it to a jury, 
I have been the  Sahara 
 the end and the beginning.

You heard the verdict in 
Creaking branches; Listen to truth; 
I'm still swinging, I'm that strange fruit.

 So you snack on hell's delight
God is a liar; your heaven's corrupt. 

Knock, Knock knocked up with a tick, tick tock; 
Qu'est-Ce Que la patience?
 Laughable virtue I never did have.

in comes the night, ending  in cadence;

So come now, come to me  fast,
Drench me in red; clothe me in black.
 first, carve a great circle
upon my bare back.

Aim for  the center; A swift inverted V
through the middle, elongated slash,
Be decisive and hear my scream.

In anarchy, in death,  welcome the past.
See me bleed, same as you? I've bled! We Bleed!
A whisper comes with hopes final gasp,

Look at bloodied trails! Walk our own path.
"once my darling, It was very much Alive",
In anarchy, in death; we have met our past.

 Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen.

Decennial of Depravities

Raise your glass

Hoist the flags

In the bygone celebratory fashion.


Onslaught-


let it go girl

endure girl

suffer girl

shatter girl

glue girl

persevere girl 

treacheries girl

sidewalks girl

down in your place girl

crawl beg lie steal girl

mother fucking fiend girl

you get the fuck up and march girl

Debased-

a decade's depravity

arrogant willful 

no god damn idea

child.

Mary Catherine, Cowardice  Queen

Matchstick Boys

My love;
a matchstick
 drenched in tar.

 flickered for a time,
 I know my darling...
I saw

That sad, peculiar heart,

  You ghost of a flame. 

Now pained;
To watch from afar;

This precious, frail, matchstick boy

alone
Suffocating
fading in the dark.

- Mary Catherine, Cowardice queen

Invective Against Bourgeois Fleas

Woe to Narcissus -

Would you look at her Go!

This lesbian, American

thinks she's Arthur Rimbaud!

I demand you to speak!

Why come to my city?

You repulsive sycophant

from mediocrity!

You must Confess it,

For I know of your kind;

That's 'nostagie de la bou' -

You parasite of minds!

Kick rocks and farewell-

Have I made you that sore?

You'd already deduced us

to the folk of your lore.

You're uninvited.

My mind's not yours to glean. 

You can not know the filthy

with your hands kept so clean!

You're a bourgeois Flea;

A depravity fiend.

lowly me; my city's streets.

Cease! No time to be weaned.

Entrenched in my Docs,

You may find what you seek. 

Just come down from that high horse.

Then I'll kick in your teeth.

Welcome to New york!

Now that is how it's done.

Or, I suppose you could say

"Une juste punition."

- Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen

-Press play-

Let that  soak in.

Three Women; Two poetic collaborations of mind.

Created June 28th, 2016

The First;

Only have one heart;

Split hemisphere of

cold Appalachians.

Glaciers of blue sky,

with one open eye;

The third that has seen. 

We watch the downfall,

black leaves fall on fields;

Foliage of malice,

ashen covered. One

blaze scalded the need.

To hide deep beneath

fear, discord, and rage;

Avalanche within,

doom’s dive. As Above,

so below. Waiting

only to comfort

The dying, sleeping

masses. Call or Scream? 

Senseless, we will dream

till we are ready.

Pour the milk from breast,

stolen daughters tears;

Mothers hell fury.

Only one heartbeat;

The sound… it’s nearing.

Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen & M. Elizabeth Barrett.

Later that evening...

Which direction will the sun fall?

Toward the place all lost things are returned. 

Where do you go when you die?

To face the scars and the beauty; The realm of truths long forgotten, of enlightenment.

What do you fear most when you arrive there?

That there is something essential I have forgotten.

What have you forgotten?

I cannot speak of what I do not know. 
I will tell you only of what I was reminded;
 Connectedness, light, circles; to love selflessly.
 Selfish acts are the roots of the trees that grow upside down and rot.

Have you ever seen a child in a woman’s body?

Yes, I see the child drowning in my eyes.

Is your body a scar museum?

Of course… Is yours not?

Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen & 
Erin Mae Burley

Sestina Renaissance

Sestina Renaissance

I was the thirst. Living as thirst; dried up, lonely and withered lust.

What a fool, what a wasted life; body alone; piss, vomit, bile, my ruin.

A brutal display to my ignorance of true value, no means to redemption.

Pleading to a taunting flicker, my contemptible tears; this betrayal

of a true self. This wretch (false self) who lived as I! Safe to predict

they knew her too well. Casting shame; I bled shame, anguish, now fatal?

What horrific calamity is this? A pathetic display of D.O.A, that final fatal

sip. Pupils? Gone, I don’t see; and the slow burn to boil cold blood. That lust,

give me more, waking sleep, apathy, and unearned nirvana. Poor fools predict

this came at no cost. The steep sum of my errors: an irrefutable ruin

everlasting. A mockery of value and principle; long lost, now only betrayal.

Crane and wolf, Snap jaws, take my idiot head, I expect no redemption.

With tremulous phantom limbs, shriek and sing for your redemption.

Vanishing, that flickering light, perhaps galaxies, or only the fatal

toxins between us? I couldn’t know. My thirst! My Bounty! My betrayal.

Of god, of truth and all mankind, I had no reverence, no thought, only lust 

for alternate reality, and different realm; Now I’ve found it, fallen to ruin.

Sixteen years of atrocities, turning away in conceit. What did you predict?

Will the feeble cerebral exercise prove inadequate in what they predict?

Small, simple creature; the errors are numberless, that’s not redemption.

Living with cognizance, truth and forgiveness.  Not here, not now, in ruin.

I wish I could pity you, truly I do. To be mortal is a brittle wing, so fatal.

Not only for you, but all mankind and kin. You met death, life full of lust

so valued. You have cheated yourself out of nirvana too soon with betrayal.

What do you know of such things? Come, tell us of nirvana and of betrayal.

What mockery you made of your values, did you ignore, could you predict

the consequences,  that would inevitably come from an insatiable lust?

Give you more. A poke in the arm or the neck, now you seek redemption!

On your way down, you knew those poisons you consumed were fatal!

You knew you were rushing to the door, a gateway to only your ruin.

The hypocrisy, inconsistency and fascism you found in church; is a ruin

made of steeples and shame. It does not belong to you. Another betrayal,

that one; to the Gods. Follow simple universal truths, then your fatal

mortality, your innate humanity, is nothing to fear. You can safely predict 

living in those truths, the soul recognition truth, is the way to redemption.

You lack nothing, whole and complete, you are! An imaginary need; lust.

Since conception your condition was fatal, a finite mortality. If your ruin

is what you desire, it will wait. Lust for truth and you will find no betrayal.

Only through this death; I predict the magnificent possibility of redemption.

Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen

My Roaring Twenties- Memoir Excerpt

Originally hand written 7-24-15

Niccolo is on his knees and my Chucks are about two feet apart with my faded blue jean mini skirt pulled up to my hip bones, my slick panties are tucked gently to the left by his index finger. 
We are behind the curtain in the back of his storeroom. 
Dusty records are overflowing in crates along the walls and every kind of musical instrument.
They are leaning in opportunely, the sole audience for Niccolo's grand lingual performance. 
Today he play's the labia and clitoris.

To harden Niccolo and to lubricate myself, we have a few forbidden taboos to pontificate. 
Niccolo owns Bad Bone Records and is expected to be out front.
 To greet and thank potential customers and I am to be 'assisting' him. 
I suppose I am, in an entirely different manner, may be more fun than the music! 
 Niccolo is married and is ten years my senior (his early thirties) and his wife is at home with a baby. Just to add to the twisted excitement, my then boyfriend Antonio and his mediocre psychobilly band is expected to be playing there sometime this week.

But alas, there he is drooling into my cunt. 
I'm so fucked up giddy I'm actually smiling at him as he stares up at me.
I hear him moaning what sounds like the alphabet underwater. 
Niccolo Grips my ass so taut he shoves me onto and partially into his eager mouth. 
All these beautiful things are combined with the anticipation for the eventual chime of the bell! 
The chime that will signify the front door opening. 
 With some music loving infiltrator waltzing into the vacant store. 
The only signs of life are "The Pixies" making proclamations on multiple speakers and the faint, distinct sound of nervous laughter coming from somewhere towards the back.
The bell chimes.

Niccolo awkwardly and a bit too abruptly attempted to get up off his knees.
He hits his beautiful black haired skull on a cymbal from a drum set.
 He lets an "Oh Fuck" fly out of his sexy mouth in a guttural whisper that was hardly a whisper at all. I find this all to be uproariously funny and I can’t stop giggling and smiling because we were to be quiet and it's all so damn naughty! This is the way I thought at twenty one years old. 
I fix my twisted panties and stand up as straight as I can.
I am ready to be told what to do. I loved being told what to do by Niccolo.

Once he gets his footing he pulls my skirt back down over my ass. Niccolo kisses me on the lips, the facial kind this time, then he runs his thumb and four fingers down his mouth and through his goatee. My clit pulsated as I watched this quick gesture of mock cleanliness.
 Wearing a grin that only a true master of cunnilingus could wear so incredibly well. 
He puts his finger to his lips, grinning "Shh..." and whispers come out when the customer leaves.
 I swooned a little, my knees were still weak and my clitoris was slick pebble between my thighs. 
He slaps my behind lovingly and rushes out the from behind the curtains.

I went into the small restroom and locked the door as quietly as I could. 
With my cheeks still stinging and my pussy still slick
Amused and in a hurry, I lifted one leg onto the sink.
 I glared at my reflection in the mirror and rubbed my clit till I came.

When I walked inside Bad Bone the next day Niccolo and his comrades greeted me as usual.
It was with a collective sing song "Mary, Mary, why ya buggin'?" 
 I curtsied and smiled then dared a glance at Niccolo. 
He was looking right back at me with that same masterful grin. I did not let my arousal show. 
I did what I did almost every time I got to Bad Bone when comrades were there.
 I shimmied my way across the store then sat on the couch in the corner. 
I crossed my legs, lit a cigarette and talked about music and listened to the boys talk over me. 
No harm no foul right? Such was life then. Simple, fun and full of Bone...Very Bad Bone.

  

Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen