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My Mother's Revenge

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Kathy Albertini is a tortured soul. Only offspring of the notorious Dixie Mafia Don Angelo Albertini, she has spent years trying to distance herself from the "Family." She seems to have succeeded, at least outwardly. She has a job she likes at The Times-Picayune in New Orleans where she is accepted for who she is and not where she came from.
But Kathy has problems dealing with the past. The long, painful and torturous death of her mother dished out to her by her father for a sin he cannot forgive lays heavy on Kathy's mind. She feels some guilt because until her father sent her away to expensive private schools she completely eradicated her mother from her mind. But the memory of what she saw the day her father brought her home and what happened afterward lays heavy on her mind and she has gone out of her way to dress and act as different as possible as her mother, never wanting anyone to say, "Like mother like daughter."
This includes her sexual partners in what are basically weekend orgies. She takes multiple partners in a desperate and foolhardy attempt to still distance herself from her mother. Her life is split into. She has her job. She likes her job. She had her debauchery weekends. She does not like them, but does not know how to make them stop. In walks John, the paper's new cub reporter and sweeps her off her feet. Kathy is in love completely, something she just knew would never happen; now life is perfect. Her love for John begins to erase her other problems. She doesn't have the nightmares anymore. She doesn't have multiple partners. She is deliriously happy. Until the day she realizes she has a stalker. Not merely a stalker, but a man who is determined to destroy Angelo Albertini for crimes he believes he commented against his own mother. Soon Kathy finds herself on a houseboat in the middle of a swamp and at the mercy of this deranged,

Crow - Villanelle

rainy dreary day
  two crows sit on the mantle
rain drips, poet writes

Ruth

Will she ever come back to me,

To whisper untruths in my ear?

My lovely woman from the sea.

No, she's gone forever I fear.

Her face was chiseled out of lust,

Her body had treasures untold.

Her aura of earthiness musk,

Around my maleness to unfold.

Young, she was much too young for me,

She gave me passion I had lost,

Whether making love or sipping tea,

But God in Heaven what a cost.

I walked around with a huge smirk,

Reveling in the charms of her youth.

She made me feel like a young Turk,

As I whispered her name, sweet Ruth.

A ballerina, style and grace,

She tiptoed o'er my weary heart.

Her voice was like poison and lace,

She measured me up, a la carte.

With arms that soothed my savage beast,

Her long legs wrapped around my waist,

Upon my body Ruth did feast,

Until my problems were erased.

I was malleable to her desires,

A wink and a nod was all it took.

Her voice like a Heavenly choir,

Stirred memories of ancient brooks.

Ruth's strength lay within her weakness,

A clinging, wanting kind of joy.

She supped from my soul with finesse,

In her hands I was beguiled, oy.

When two can become one with heat,

Ecstasy is ripe on the plum,

And she clung to my offered meat,

Only tempered with sips of rum.

Ruth's lips, aged in barrels of wine,

A last meal, how could I not know?

As we made love beneath the pines.

She took me to peaks, then to woe.

I see her now where 'er she be,

A new lover she's given the eye.

She takes him on with bogus glee,

But, oh, I wish I was that guy.

I sit staring out the window,

And rue the day she came my way.

I'll never be the same, I know,

My skies are cold and gray each day.

I look toward Heaven and I shriek,

Why did she forsake me, my God?

Like a fool I think He will speak,

Is Ruth nothing but a façade.

When I have moments of real truth,

I have a feeling so absurd.

Oh, but she made me feel my youth,

Was it real, did it in fact, occur?

Was she a dream or was it real,

Things get fuzzy when you are old

Did I make love to the real deal,

Or was it a dream that I did hold?

©January 11, 2010 / Jerry Pat Bolton

Fellow Patriots the time has come,

Fellow Patriots there is work to be done,

Raise the invisible torch and pass it along,

Keep it burning,

Keep it burning,

Forward on that road that has no turn,

Die if you must,

For a cause that is just,

But shout to the end

No surrender!

--From the 1943 film, Hangman Also Die

Dottie's Love

loving you was so exquisite

in those early days

it felt like dying from passion

to gaze upon your face

your lips which quivered when you smiled

those dark brown eyes

sometimes almost dark like chocolate

to look at you thusly

could send me into the stratosphere

and your simple touch

could bring me back to solid earth

you touched me where none had before

stood strong

when standing strong was needed

all for me

sacrificed your desire many times

for mine

when I found myself

walking through the minefield of

insecurity

you were my rock

always there

smiling, standing strong for me

you said much the same about me

we leaned on one another

all those years

if you were disappointed

with your life

and me

you never let it show

until the ravages of hell descended upon you

even then

when I looked into those eyes

I saw Dottie of old

not the ravaged one going through hell

the pain you suffered

was relatively short

I am grateful for that

I think of those last days daily

can't help it

couldn't help it then

but mostly

I think of those wonderful, wonderful

good times

great times

fantastic times we had

getting to where we were

next month will be a year

since you left

just want you to know

my love is still strong

©January 2, 2010 / Jerry Pat Bolton

Contumely

the dawning of a new year

plods unwaveringly toward

the sheared sheep

while we

the sheep waiting to be sheared

shoot play rockets in the air

blow up balloons

to bring in this new decade

our leaders

from Hussein to the

Senate and the House of Representatives

on down to local elected officials

are spittin' in our faces

and calling it rain

nothing but abuse of power

they're stickin' it to us

because they can

they are not only discourteous

they are sneeringly disrespectful

used to be

once upon a time

there were two parties

in Washington

one balancing the other out

no more

Hussein's party is like pit bulls

always on the attack

never letting go of the prize

the other one

the limp-wristed one's

the Runpublicans

tuck their tails and slink away

while the majority of the American public

is being dealt

degrading and insulting defeat

as religious totalitarianism

can you say theocracy

is beginning to be smelled from afar

(where's the ACLU)

plants its foot

squarely on our backs

somewhere, somehow the idea of government

by and for the people

have been discarded like so many

table scraps

after an elite and smug banquet

while we

find ourselves clinging to beliefs of old

such as

pride in who we are

Americans

not championing diversity

Americans

not Mexican-Americans

Polish-Americans

Native-Americans

Whatever-and-Whoever-Americans

Americans

to stand up for diversity

is foolish and destructive

see what it has gotten us, huh?

the mere word

diverse means different

not the same

different

the crack in the Republic has been widened by that word

if you live in America

legally

you should call yourself an American

fuck the hyphen

standing strong and united

for the mother country

not

putting her down

we have lost our soul

suicide by apathy

a very slow bleed

©December 25, 2009 / Jerry Pat Bolton