Interview with Trump's Wife!

Illustration by Elle Brooks - Writer & Writing Coach, Artist, friend of mine

Robyn: It's hard to believe she's here today, folks. But I promised her $2 billion, and she believed me. So let's welcome the centerfold of recent controversy, Donald Trump's third wife, Melania! Melania saunters onto our stage, depressed, sultry, and promoting the slogan: "Black Words Matter!" Welcome, Melancholia! Welcome!
Melania: Tanks yous. I no, how you say? play girly-eyes! She smiles intensely and bats her lashes. I no play girly-eyes!
Robyn suddenly realizes what Melania meant to say and nods. I see. You didn't (slowing to enunciate) pla-gi-ar-ize. Then what was all that hoopla about, Melanoma?
Melania: Hula hoop, I likey, but I no play girly-eyes. I use riders. They cop-peed from, how you say? Michael Angelo Osama Bin Laden peach. She nods and smiles proudly, while waving her sign.
Robyn: Moronia, sweetie, you're not smart. Is that right?
Melania: No. I no smart. I tall. I be 5 pound, 11 feet tall. She smiles and shifts to the side. The camera zones in on her infinitely long legs and perfectly sculpted, reminiscent-of-Pippa-Middleton-but-lacking-a-semblance-of-youthful-perk butt.
Robyn sighs and wipes a droplet of saliva from her chin. Consider this, Melons, you're married to an orange mofo who's threatening humanity. He's more sexual towards his daughter, Ivanka, than you. God I feel disgusted right now.
Melania: Vodka good. I likey discuss too. It good God. It good.
Robyn, slightly exasperated: Oy, Millenia. Fifteen years not enough to learn property English? Okay, I break down. Your husband piece of *bleep* and you a grown woman - Robyn steps closer to Melania, her eyes nearly touching Melania's boobies. You choose to be sex-object for money. This no good model. Husband tries bring hate and destroy world with Penze. How this good?
Melania: I like Penis. Penis good. I no play girly-eyes, my husband first Black man Present. Melania waves her sign proudly. I no play girly-eyes! My husband he work hardly. Robyn nods in agreement. He tell me stay down and shutty up. He like top. He carry about our two color girls Sushi and Malaria. Is good. She waves her sign proudly again. Backwards they matter! she shouts, as she's escorted off the stage by the NRA, KKK, a cluster of other White redneck mofos, and...Wait, how'd she get there? Martha Stewart, dressed in tight-fitting red leather lingerie and slinging a pair of hand-cuffs. Martha stops momentarily to flip-off Robyn before scurrying to catch-up with the others who've paraded out the exit doors.
Robyn looks at the camera and shrugs. Sorry?!

Mere Chance: Ubuntu Poem

 

 "In Africa, there is a concept known as UBUNTU – the profound sense that we are human only through the humanity of others; that if we are to accomplish anything in this world, it will in equal measure be due to the work and achievement of others."          Nelson Mandela.

Dear Sillies, 
Unlike with prose, I can't just sit at a keyboard and create poetry. It either strikes or doesn't, and it usually doesn't. In these broken times, though, I want to bring back an important message. I wrote Mere Chance in 2014 for Michelle Wallace's Ubuntu Bloghop. And Michelle just had a birthday. Happy Birthday week and year, Michelle! Keep shining, inspiring lady. 
PS I won the bloghop for this one. That meant a lot, especially because there were so many beautiful entries - as you can imagine. 

Mere Chance

I stride into your eyes and see

I could be you. 

You could be me.

Divided lives that crave the same:

Love, respect, a valued name.

Bereft of excess, 

our needs so few:

Awaking safe 

with breath anew.

Both good souls, 

two lots to bear.

Would life make sense, 

a fate we'd share.

Yet I bathe myself 

in waste replete

As you stave demons 

on the street.

Your time, 
a fight

 and mine, 
a dance.

Mere chance contrasts 

each circumstance.

Your hurdles, vast

Your earnest, true

How easily

I could be you.

Fifty

"We live so many lifetimes in one lifetime.

Dreams shift, reality transforms, and emotional resiliency sees us through." 

-me, Woman on the Verge of Paradise

It's a strange time. I feel like I've split into two selves: one, a woman who acts adult-ish; and two, a little girl who waits to be given a grape lollipop or homemade chocolate chip cookie. I mean, I'm always trying to evolve into a better person, but I still feel like that little girl. And I often act like one. Plus when I look in the mirror, I see one (that is, when I remove my bifocals, shut off the lights, and play "Let's Pretend"). So it's extra weird to have recently turned a corner to...50. Yikes. That's one-half of one-hundred. It's a biggie. I'd choose denial, but that's unlike me. Plus, why ignore a good reason for chocolate cake?

So I playfully welcomed my fifth decade with help from some special people. For one, there's Bernie. He's so thoughtful. He bought my birthday cake, as proven by the yellow icing. See:

My good friend Lara gifted me with Bernie socks too, and she flew in from Oregon to help me celebrate. Lara mentioned a Pin the Kiss on Donny Osmond game she played as a wee child. Naturally, I spun the idea into something much more mature...

Sadly, my kiss touched-down closer to Cruz (Yuck!) than Bernie. Note that nobody landed near Martha Stewart's mouth. The Trump-Rosie combo got a lot of action, however. And, well, Bernie's nether regions did alright too. Carly reaped a nearly direct smooch, but Taylor Swift had no luck.

All in all, it was a sweet start to the big 5-0 thanks to good friends and my Bernie.

Take good care, and please drop by. I'll feed you yummy leftovers. I'll also blindfold you and see where your kiss lands.

Whatever life tosses you, keep faith that emotional resiliency will see you through. 

John Hancock Erotica

Dear Sillies,
I've returned from a writers' retreat in Big Sur. Cheryl Strayed and other fabulous writers (all fun, funny, warm, and humble) inspired us, as did the remarkably beautiful setting.

To my friends in the U.S., I hope it's a safe and celebratory Independence Day.
To my friends elsewhere, I hope it's a safe and pleasant week.
To all, please enjoy this re-post. I hereby dedicate it to John Hancock. After-all, his was biggest.