Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: 9/11 artist

“GOOD MORNING, WORLD!”

“Good Morning, World!”

and to the rest of you
that are still asleep —
This Is Your Mother
Speaking:

It’s Time To Go To School
and I mean
REAL SCHOOL —

It’s Time To Go
BACK to Your
Kitchens, Women, &
cook for Your
decreasing Families,

It’s Time, Children, To Get On
The Bus of Human Intelligence
for Our Fight:

The Fight of Our Lives

as Human Beings on
This Planet —
for That is
All We Are — We
are Human &
We are God —

& We Cannot Continue
as We have been
for however many
thousands or millions of
years.

This is Your MOTHER
SPEAKING — CRYING
For You, My Children,
to Stop Killing
Yourselves
through Your Own
desperation, &
stupidity —

I Love You All
Dearly
& without You I
would
Die!”

“WAKE UP WORLD &
smell The Coffee —
drink that Tim Horton’s
& Think of Me.

Watch This Television
until You are Blue
in The Face,
which is MY
FACE  —

You have desecrated
Me with
Your naivety, Your
revulsion & Mine,
for You & Me &
Now —
I can no longer look
My Self in The Face
& Smile

Because of YOU

(red star, red star)

October 1st, 2010 THE HAWK

continued from Diary:

I AM THE RED STAR —

I AM THE ALERT BUTTON
on Your Car
remote

Listen to Me — You are
All I Have Left
here,

& here is the Only Place
We know of

which sustains us, somewhat,

& which sustains Me,

Your Guiding Star

Your Furious Mother —

and Who was My Furious

Mother, You may ask?

She is Dead Now & Somewhere

out There, Haunting Me

as I am aiming now to

Haunt You,

& Haunt You I Will,

Until You Turn Around,

with The Earth,

with The Light of Our

Yellow Star —

Soon To Turn Red.

I am speaking to You from

This Black Box, This Hole

But I Can See You,

like The Romper Room Lady —

I am Magic, if You

believe in Magic

— and I feel You must

believe in Something —

There is The Divine, for

I have felt Its Wrath —

There is God, for I have

been beaten down by Him,

now, into this heaving mass

of Human Organism

which rises up before You,

to Speak to You

from The Device I Loathe:

The Device of Corruption, Greed,

Sloth, & Desire.

Yes, I Desire You,

I Desire That You Wake Up

to Hear Me, That You

Wake Up to Feel Me, For

What Am I To You But

All That Is Left of

possible salvation?

I am Your Mother & My

Mother before Me, & Her Mother,

& My Father’s Mother & Her

Mother — I AM ALL MOTHERS

I Speak For The Salvation

of The Children of God

WHO MUST NOW, FINALLY,

GROW UP

*

I COME LIMPING HOME

There’s  a Rock on The Side of The Road

in Barrington where I shop

It has a Mentalist Red John

which I badly want to deflect

with Silver Star Rays

& maybe Red Dots

but on this windy Sunday Morning

as I drive on My Mission

I see a Police Car

coming through The Intersection

of Highway 3 & The Causeway

I turn around

I come home

leaving My Cans of Silver & Red

rattling around on the floor

of My Escape

THE SOBEY’S PARKING LOT 5:15pm

I Was First In Line

For My Abortion

& I Claimed It:

Him/Her I Kept

Forever In My Shattered Heart

In The Next Room Over

From That Waiting Room

Full

Of Silent Women

THE HAWK DECK 6:13pm

My Daughter & I

came back from The Beach

I hung Our Towels on The Line

I checked My Blog

to find a New Follower

soulblindministry

whose Donate Heart

was just like Mine

(My Daughter didn’t think so)

just like Mine

in My Eye Am

painting

Just Like Mine

THE HAWK FAMILY ROOM 6:37pm

I see A Room Inside

a big black TV Screen

I see a lamp, some books & DVDs

mirrored for My View

I slide over to My Left

to have a shoulder, Left

     exposed with half

     My Head

 A Red Light

below My Chest

“DON’T MOVE”

SOCIAL PROFILE

 

The Hawk Kitchen 2:32pm

Joanna Gilman Hyde Blair must be a Throwback to The Fifties:

White Stay-At-Home Mom

3rd Wife to A Silver Haired Doctor

Moderate Drinker — Would Like To Smoke

NOT A CHURCH GOER

Eats Red Meat & Lots Of It

Likes To Shop but Considers Cost

Doesn’t Care (very much) What She Drives

As Long As It Works

Has Been Seen Eating @ MacDonalds

In An Off-The-Shoulder Oprah Evening Dress

THE HAWK DESK WINDOW 5:00pm

Sobey’s Parking Lot

in Barrington Passage

has a yellow sign

with red letters afixed

to Its Central Cart Corral:

“In The Event of An Emergency

 Gather Here”

Twice Now I Have Thought

of Standing There

To Signify We Are

In The Social Emergency

of Our Existence:

We Should Be Gathering

Our Female 13-17 age group

Our Female 55-64 age group

Our Male 45-54 age group


THE HAWK PORTICO 6:36pm

I wrote A Book once

of 364 pages

describing The Illness & Death

of My Mother

& what happened to Me

after four days of no sleep —

sleep deprivation induced by Death:

The Shower of Lights

Seeing The Meaning of Life

Fixation Upon a Little Man

induced by The Telepathic Message:

“Joanna, the reason I am not answering Your Calls

is that I am at home, in the same condition

You are in — Yes We are reading Each Other’s Minds —

and no one knows what’s going on —

there is no expression for Love Divine

but this is as close as We can come…”

My last words to Him were:

“David, I am shredding My Manuscript —

all 5 copies, & The Shredder

is getting overheated —

It keeps quitting every 20 minutes

giving Me Pause For Thought”

Hint:

One Surviving Copy

may be somewhere

in The Vermont Farm House

of My Widowed Stepmother

Who assures Me

It’s Somewhere

THE HAWK WEST WINDOW 11:30pm

One Night On Bald Mountain

A Woman In Orange & Black

Stood Beneath Her Crow Painting

Armed With A Blunted Bread Knife

Witch, She Insisted,

She Was Using

To Make A Point

She Directed A Party Of Mounties

To The Idea

She Would Be Escorted To Hospital

Under One Condition:

That She Receive

No Medication

Against Her Will

Officer M– Wrote Down Her Request

She Surrendered Her Implement

Agreed To Be Strapped

In A Semi-reclining Position

Into The Back Of An Ambulance

To Be Driven Away

One Hour

To The Yarmouth Psychiatric Unit

Where Her One Condition

Was Not Met

Tonight, May 22nd 2012

My Husband Lay Beside Me

And Announced:

“There Are No Leaders”

THE HAWK PORTICO 3:37pm

I stepped out on The Deck

into The Early Morning Sun

— with My Clipboard, Pencil

Cup of Coffee — I looked out at The Atlantic

& decided to be A Writer.

I determined to fix A Poem:

The Greatest Date  — written A Decade Ago —

I would fix The Ending mostly —

isn’t it The End

which usually needs attention?

& worked away

in That Dazzling Sun, in old sunglasses,

listening to The Breaking Waves, Birds

& My Husband stirring in The Kitchen

feeding The Cats