Greek I am waiting at your ocean door I have a lover, but I have no sister Circe had pigs, but that’s why I kissed her I hear the harpies, the sirens call They’re not brain-dead yet So, I’ll endure them all On the island of Ithaca, I’ll make a stand I’ll spin a web they’ll never understand I’ll bring it back home and then We’ll start a new band. Soon Soon I’ll call the porter And then I’ll drive away I’m taking my troubles with me To the bottom of the grave And what about that man I loved but could not keep It doesn’t matter now I’m leaving like I left So many times before. Plebeians These plebeians masquerading as academics Masquerading as aristocrats It draws my heart to bleed What they call poetry Reading their receipts All I have to say is It matters not They’ll twaddle through infinity And I just say, good luck. Spare Me And spare me all your portraits Your poems are mere burlesque Are they adequately free Of gender or the worst? But satire never grasped you Did it now, my dear? You drew to see just who would lose In this game of fools The breach is there, but never mind It waits for everyone So, babble on through Babylon With the picturesque And think it will absolve you From the universal mess Bereft I may be bereft But I’m in love I split the Tao in half It did not hold I did not let go I watched the dawn I watched the fall I saw to the heart of it all. I stepped into omega I watched the circus clown I watched him bow I saw the years of hell No matter what I did The yin and yang dancing The universe cracking. He lifted the veil And let me in And now I stand before him Asking, where do I begin? My feet are broken on the ground. She is So Dark She is so dark, she never fails She just walks on top of me now Funny how this happens She never quits Does she care? I do But I do not understand her game And when it is raining in the desert I cannot comprehend. She is better off not here Where my blood is real I bought her sprigs of cedar And I tried not to cry Some perfume for her mother Though she’s past ninety-five It is the season for disguise But I am crying. I am so unhappy And there’s nothing to do I have been this way forever And I am nearly through The wind keeps blowing And I want to die It is pouring in the valley I say I am sorry to the sky. Monday Moves Ophelia is laughing in the tower She wears a long dark coat And walks around after hours A glass of whisky waits on her counter If you want an apology Avert your gaze Reconsider your aim She does not distinguish The ember from the flame She loves a man now And the two are the same She receives his flowers Down in the water And she wishes no pain. A new poetry showcase from Elizabeth Cusack Poetry Showcase from Elizabeth Cusack Poem by Elizabeth Cusack for Before I Turn Into Gold Day Poetry by Elizabeth Cusack inspired by the Dirty Three Twitter @ecusack4 Youtube: PoetryonTheRocksforLonelyHearts
Bio: Elizabeth Cusack is a recovering actress. Ever since playing Rhoda Penmark in “The Bad Seed” as a child, deservedly, she has endeavoured to keep up her end of the bargain. Elizabeth has been blessed with the best of teachers over the years, mostly from the school of hard knocks. She has championed and performed in fringe theatre in America. Elizabeth edits her favourite poet while not otherwise inspired by her muse to write.
Fevers of the Mind 
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