Mackenzie Writes

a young child laughing  at me because my hair is blonde and my eyes are blue eyes wide shut remembering the history photos of my grandparents  more Great’s than i could count at the time hung on the wall just out of the kitchen where meals of barbecued carne were served in and out of the sliding door  came little wet feet from the pool, through the kitchen running past the pictures on the wall near the couch where my dad sits to braid my hair like my grandmothers taught him they learned from their tribe women and men tranquil and tender willful and caring they loved everyone even the people who tore down their civilization and a young child laughing kept laughing at me here stands my culture with blond hair and blue eyes

the sepia kitchen matches the memory as vintage as the feelings in my soul watching him stomp in filling the air with anger stomping from the front door  I watched him all the way to the backyard when something on the off-white cracked as my soul  tiles  on the counter top catches my wide blue eyes it could oink it was so fat with pennies across my face a smile  that could stretch from coast to coast where is surfed on a wave of emotions Wait daddy, whats that? another smile,  his, so sweet and blissful reminiscing  warmth from the window illuminating this fat copper tank a tank so round and cute  shiny and so very very impossibly unbreakable wildly delicate all at the same time like my heart m esmerized  fascinated the little copper pork chop was stuffed to the brim honey colored glass matched my vintage dreams remembering your smile and mine as the sun shin...

 Slam Poem Artwork is unknown Poet - Kenzie

darkness consumes my sight only a sliver of light shines through the crack of a door that glides like a boat on the ocean. flesh vibrating, shivering of fear, maybe of cold mostly. the air blankets my skin  wraps around me as i curl my knees to my chest, like a sea dragon silently waiting and clothes like seaweed dangling around me. footsteps coming coming down the hall. heavy breathing like a sharks theme song he's hunting for me. I hold my breath as silent as a fish floating in space and time begging for the storm to pass. waiting to be found waiting  waiting for the shark to leave. waiting for the shark to pass. hoping the shark does not smell my sweet.. sweet peaches hang from the tree outside,  I can see them through the crack and a shadow closes that sliver of light. my head peers up. the sharks haunting eye peers through  where my sliver of hope used to shine.

A handsome man and genius writer, John Osborne, was born Dec. 12, 1929 and died Dec. 24, 1994. He was born and raised in Surrey. He was an English playwright, actor, and screenwriter who wrote with themes based on political and social norms, including perceptions of spirituality. I enjoy John Osborne's work because we share a similar sense of dark humor and wit, as well as "mommy issues." I wish I could write as wittily as he has. Someone once described his plays as  “combined unsparing truthfulness with devastating wi t.” (Wikipedia) At age 18 John Osborne began acting in numerous plays, which is where he fell in love with playwriting. He co-wrote his first play, The Devil Inside Me , with his lover/wife Stella. Osborne described this play as a ‘melodrama about a poetic Welsh loon’ who murders a girl when he  realizes  that she is trying to frame him for sexual assault.' ( bl.uk ) Osborne has been married 5 times and is believed to be bisexual. John...

9/15/2018 I am sitting in this bathroom, lying on the floor too weak to get up, crying like before the floor I cleaned just two weeks ago, the floor you can’t ignore. I remember sitting in this same bathroom, lying just like this on the floor I was only fifteen. And too weak to get up, not like now but, crying more forlorn on the floor, too weak to go. The floor I then couldn't ignore. For this floor had so much gore. This same pain wept from inside, on the floor I once solemnly swore  never to let myself get so mourned.  You leave me with so much scorn  and I try not to rush so much to the morgue;  one day I may meet my fate in show but, today I lay here on the bathroom floor. Today, today I feel torn, crying and weeping just like before but, in terror and remembering not to be forlorn I lay here on the bathroom floor, The same exact floor  except now I am grown. I cleaned it just two weeks ago, this...

Only in the light of the red moon Do our souls that were once two Become one to which a libra is the scale of life That weighs off balance without you That only tilts just right When our souls that were once two Become one when conscious connections  Are made with true love and light but Only in the light of the red moon.

It will be true love  In the moment their eyes meet  For the first time.  The world will stop  For both of them It will be tender and passionate And the force will be greater than  that of the universe. 

Tight curls and hugs Sweet baby kisses  A daddy’s best girl A mommy’s worst nightmare The sweetest delight Bows and pony tails Unisex shoes and shorts Slugs and dirt Tutus worked once Playmates with short Haircuts Pigtails snicker and Whisper in the corner Blue eyes, quiet heart Mother assured envy Father comforts the heart

Stuck in my head Won't get out of bed A tear won't even shed I won't keep myself fed Might as well be dead Stuck in my head Might as well be dead Might as well be dead. Shine brighter they said Try harder they said Do better they said Give up they said You'll never make it they said Will the laughing ever end? Stuck in my head Can't get out of bed A tear can't shed I can't even keep myself fed Might as well be dead Stuck in my head Might as well be dead Might as well be dead.

Our eyes connected immediately, his were as green and deep as a roaring Forrest. The tension we created with just a stare was thicker than the snow on the ground. He knew I wanted him, just by looking at me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me in. I could feel his heavy breath on my neck and with a trifling tone in his voice he whispered into my ear, “It’s nice to see you again, Victoria.” and kissed my cheek. My entire body lit up with passion. I began to fall into him and he stepped away. He flashed his dashing smile at me and I caught myself. “Not again,” I thought to myself. I shook off the lust and turned to my boss who was trying to ask me something, "Im sorry, what did you say, Mr. Davis?" "I said, who is your friend, Victoria?" Lost in the forrest of his eyes I could hardly say his name without orgasming, "Mr. Davis, this is..." and he stepped in to shake Mr. Davis' hand and introduced himself. "Covington, sir. Killian Covington." Impre...

Everlasting Evil Hidden in you. The only one who can see it is me; Only I know the truth. You have everyone deceived— You lie and cheat, You control and manipulate, You are filled with so much hate.  Hate and hurt— You don’t see it in you, But I do. I see it deep in you. The hurt and hate that Causes your everlasting, evil, Cold and dead Soul You hide it and smile But, not in a smile to hide the pain A smile to cause pain Pain in me Only I can see it in you Because I’m the only one You want to see in pain Even when I beg you to stop. You are hurt and it makes you hateful You try to change me because You don’t want to see the real you You only want me to see And you want me to be Just as hurt and hateful as you But why? What good will that do? Worse for me, and nothing for you. I kneel at the feet of a peaceful prophet, I hope for healing everywhere, Butterflies land freely in my sweet hair, If so...

Assignment: Alternate Ending to Hedda Gabler Setting: (instead of killing herself after closing the shades…) Scene: Hedda closes the shades and rushes to her room to pack her bags. She can hear the group outside talking about her. JUDGE: Must Hedda always be this dramatic? Why is she so upset about this man anyways? (Hedda grows annoyed and searches for her passport, it still has her maiden name on it and she smiles reminiscing in her independence. She listens for the group as they begin into the house. Hedda rushes down the stairs and slips out the front door before anyone catches her.) Hedda walks swiftly to the boss stop with her suitcase in hand. Meanwhile, back at the house,  the group has begun to wonder where Hedda has gone. TESMAN: Hedda, dear? Where are you? The Judge is ready to leave. Please come say your Goodbye’s we do not wish to be rude to the man after all he is doing for us. (They don’t hear Hedda) JUDGE: Perhaps you should go up and get ...

My Dearest Anastasia, You are the light that shines higher than the sky; the sun that brightens most everyone’s dreary day. We miss you here in Summerville. Without you the it is a constant rainy day. Grey skies every month this year. I long for your sweet smelling bosom, which smells sweeter than a flower bed of daisies in the Spring. I crave your blessed face, for it looks like it came from the highest of heavens. Why do you settle here for Earth? Perhaps that is where you have gone back to, the Heavens. Oh, how I love thee… Won’t you come home to me? I waited and watched you nearly every day and wondered, how does she find the time to look so beautiful? She is busy in the fields all day long and sneaking across the eery lake at night. I have seen it for myself that you are busier than most bees, this beauty you hold must only be of the most organic like the soil under your toes as you approach the beach. The beach where you meet Kennith King  and he makes you sing a sweet so...