Category Archives: Poetry

NaPoWriMo: In the beginning there was nothing, which exploded

In honor of Sir Terry Pratchett, I selected a quote about madness.

“Five exclamation marks, the sure sign of an insane mind.”—Sir Terry Pratchett

He didn’t call them exclamation, he called them excitement

A bitter testament to his life’s indictment

With no more than a word or a breathy breath brought

He surrendered his loving light, just as he’d been taught

With shadows his footsteps and lies his parade

He ran off with a glass menagerie, to make his own way

I thought he’d come home, return to the love

But he can’t, he won’t, no olive branch carrying dove.

I’ll watch from my window to see if he passes by

But I know that he has five exclamation marks riding by his side.

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NaPoWriMo: Making cheer up

Cass Betro taught me a word that I added meaning to. Joyfriend. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I really like this term. I really like that anyone that brings you great joy can be your Joyfriend. Happy Joyfriend day every day!

Cass and me playing hooky at church.

Cass and me playing hooky at church.

Every day should begin with a promise of a Joyfriend day

A commitment to call them, or let the know how you feel

A word of thanks for their humorous appeal

I think every day should begin as a Joyfriend day

Just letting them know that you’re there in a wonderful tale

Blessed Joyfriend, you could say, I’m so glad you’re in my life

Living the Joyfriend way.

They’d laugh and you’d smile like a mule and a crocodile

Which makes it even funnier and you laugh until your sides ache

I love to life the Joyfriend day, for I never know what will come my way

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NaPoWriMo: Speak to your affliction

povertyinamerica

We need to have a talk.

I’d offer you a chair, but you’ve already smashed that.

I’d offer you a drink, but I can’t afford to make you water.

I’d offer you food, but I have two kidney beans and tomato paste to last me.

You keep taking everything I have.

I’ve tried to feel compassion because I see you in sunken cheeks.

I’ve tried to understand, but you took away my medical care too

I’ve tried to wear your shoes, but they disintegrated immediately.

I’ve attempted great feats of courage, heroism, and charity

On your behalf, but you won’t leave.

Politely, I decline to allow you purchase in my life.

You’re going to leave and not return.

I can’t abide not paying my bills because of you.

I can’t stand the idea of stagnant mobility because of pain

I no longer wish you to attend my every day.

You will go. You will leave.

You will not return. I will watch you bleed.

Poverty, you are not welcome in my home any more.

There’s the door.

While I still have one, leave and return no more.

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NaPoWriMo: Anticipating Mayhem

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Public Speaking: The Clothesline Project

I knew the challenge was to be real

That the courage I needed would take nerves of steel

I went over the words that I wanted to say

I covered them over and over in every which way

I walked through the crowd feeding on them

Terrified that the words I’d speak, they’d condemn

I laughed, joked, and performed pulling pigs from my sack

When I stepped to the stage there was no turning back

I showed them my underbelly, one of my dark days

I used it to educate so my flashlight could help them find the way

I stood there in silence giving up a slight bow

Then I teetered off the stage with my mind in the now

I was greeted with warmth, forgiveness, and hugs

The healing I get is better than any other drug

I can shine my light of love into the crowd

I can speak my truth, though shaky, way out loud

And they know, like I do that I’ve struggled and cried

But they trust that what I tell them will never be lies.

NaPoWriMo: Art Speaks to Art

Chasing Angels and Blessed Mothers

Jamie Lopez is one of my favorite contemporary artists because she sings with her creations in a language I understand and frequently sing myself. She is alive, vibrant, willing to be compassionate, and shares her life with open arms. The painting I chose has owls and a mother which reminded me of an event that happened to me while I lived in Oro Valley just north west of Tucson, AZ.

http://fineartamerica.com/products/1-blessed-guidance-jamie-lopez-canvas-print.html

I drove down the darkened Arizona road

My pickup truck headlamps chased colors through the gray.

I didn’t have the radio on because the music sang in my head

The moon was barely rising when I saw

Crumpled in the middle of the road, white with feathers

A figure that stood up to the size of a small child

Gazing at me with eyes so large I took it for an owl

Skin so pale it appeared as milk. My brakes stopped willingly.

I began to panic. I began to wonder, but I realized neither.

With a gaze upwards, a woman dancing the skies with dark stars

Dangling pearls and diamonds on indigo, held open arms.

The creature spread wings as wide as the road side to side

Asphalt to asphalt; dust to dust; rising into the night of Tucson

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NaPoWriMo: Pain and Sleep

Pain in the Foot

Love, Lucky Happiness, and Courage. You can see Courage and part of the luck in this picture.

Love, Lucky Happiness, and Courage. You can see Courage and part of the luck in this picture.

The best thing that ever happened to me was pain

I’m not a masochist if that’s what you think

(and even if I was, that’s personal preference not pain).

I worked many jobs that didn’t quite fit me.

Who needs happiness when I got bills, ya get me?

Then I learned about pain when I bare handed broke my foot

THUMP! VOMIT! “That can’t be good.”

Two days of crying while I hobbled around before I got to see

A doctor who looked at me and exclaimed, “HOW could you BE?!”

I’d collapsed my foot bones, broke them in two

By rubbing a cream on my foots that were as stressed as I was.

But that pain, that pain that, two years later remains

Is a constant reminder of how much I’ve gained.

I have time to create, to speak, to volunteer.

I have time to be, to love, to give, to cheer.

Pain has pushed me to places I’d never have learned

Pain has given me new ideas to churn.

But Pain, dear pain, has given me more of myself

Than anything I’ve done, nay, anything else.

It’s taught me courage, strength, endurance

It’s taught me to keep going even with hindrance

Pain is a wicked friend but it never lies to me

It allows me to push limits; to set up healthy boundaries

Pain is the best thing that ever happened to me

My only issue is when it won’t let me sleep.

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Breaking out of Prison*

*(Cell Phone)
If you don't know what this is, you're too young for me. :-)

If you don’t know what this is, you’re too young for me. 🙂

A few months ago, due to financial circumstances I had to give up having a cell phone. As my friends and contacts can attest, I was a full on addict. I couldn’t leave without my phone, I checked it at least twice every 10 minutes, and generally freaked out if I didn’t have my identity with me. And then, I had no choice but to abandon my preconceived notion of myself.

As I sit here today, I realize I don’t miss it. Not really. There’s only been one time that I really could have used one but I was in a hospital being monitored for heart issues anyway and my friend had one to notify my family if she needed to do so (thankfully she didn’t). Here are some things I learned about going “old school” with nothing but a home phone.

Control

I have more control over my life now than I did when I had a cell phone. I get to pick and choose easier by having only a home phone who has my number. It allows me to choose who I wish to spend my time with chatting on the phone. Unlike with a cell phone, I don’t feel obligated to answer my home phone because when I’m at home, that’s my time. If I want to spend time with people, I’ll go hang out with them. I am no longer strapped to everyone else’s beck and call. I decide what I want to do.

Money

I no longer have the overpriced expense of something that I didn’t really need. I figured out that I felt my cell phone was a measure of my worth in the modern world. I coveted nicer phones than I had because, well they were faster, bigger, whatever reason. I had a freak out because the phone I had got broken. If it weren’t for my friend, I’d have had no phone at all. But in retrospect, I needed to buy into the propaganda that I required one to fit in. I’m not one to do that. Money, although still not really a frequent thing in my pocket (YET!) is better spent on food, an occasional coffee out with friends, or other fun things instead of to a tether.

Ghost Calls

When I leave the house, I no longer have to worry about whether or not I received that phantom ring call. We’ve all had them. It’s the one that arrives precisely in the time it takes you to take your phone, check it, and put it back where you had it when it rings. Then the mad dash to answer it because the intuition that a call was coming in must mean DANGER! Well, usually, it was more mundane than that. It’s almost as if people are being trained like Pavlov’s dog to hear/feel the energy that keeps pouring into our bodies from those plastic gadgets.

Face Time (for real)

Yes, I’m aware there’s an app called that. Yes, I understand that it allows distant loved ones to chat with one another as if they’re right there in the same room. I get the practical side of that. However, I’ve found that if I’m really wanting to see a person…obvious here, go spend time with that person. I call up a friend and request an appointment. They agree or disagree. If they agree, I get to see them, hug them, smell them (which sounds creepier than it is), listen to their voice, watch their body language, visit with their spirit, etc. In short, I get to have communion with another human. I get to be a part of their life and they in mine. I value the time I have with people far more now than when I had a cell phone to distract me because I’m in the moment. I’m in the now. I’m not waiting for a call or text from someone. I’m with the friend or loved one I’m with. I mean WITH!

I made more minutes!

Every day, we’re all given twenty-four hours in which to accomplish everything we were born to do that day. When I was attached to my cell phone, I’d while away the hours and hours with some texting, some games, some messengers, some Facebooking, and many other past times. I am not saying those are bad, but they are massive time eaters for me. Once I no longer had those things to distract me, my creativity soared through the roof. I can pull off things I only imagined before I gave up my cell phone. I feel guilty if I don’t write, draw, paint, sketch, work material, or even visit with my tribe. Guilty because…well actually I don’t. I have time to do all the things I was born to do in this day. I can meet the world with my head looking up instead of down at a cell phone. I SEE people and have more time.

What began as a horror, has ironically, become a luxury. I am happier, more productive, I noticed the manacles of my identity haven’t been lost, but instead enhanced by not being forced to live in a little black box with a pretty case that I was never destined to live in at all. It’s been satisfying to me across the board. If you do decide to go old school and have a relatively good internet service provider, try the MagicJack Go. When you see how much it costs ($100 bucks for five years of service, I shit you not), you’ll see what I mean. Take control, my friend. Happiness is right in front of you.

NaPoWriMo: This Poem Is a Fighter

SIDENOTE: It is my practice not to dwell too much on negativity. I get pissed off. I sometimes struggle to understand the actions of others, particularly when they’re harmful, but I fight myself to understand so that I can spend my time in peace. It’s not been easy for me. In fact, the only poem I skipped was the cycle of negativity in this whole series because it denied me comfort. This is a mock up conversation between a parental set and a child of faith.

Mother, Father, Child

“I watch my brothers and my sisters run

I see my brothers and my sisters sleep

But I fear for them, my father and mother

That we may have fallen in too deep.”

“You worry, my child, while there is no need

There is enough, but there’s too much greed

Turn the hearts of those who steal

So that everyone can enjoy the meals”

“But, my father and my mother, I say

That I watch this happen every day

Where a child goes without, an adult has too much

I’m afraid we’re all lost, that we’re too out of touch”

“My beautiful child, with eyes looking up

Remember, my dear one, to keep filling the cup

For the cup of love is always overflowing

For those who keep giving will cherish this knowing”

“My mother and father, dearest of my heart

I hate when I must face the world while we are apart

I feel despair and anguish from nearly everyone I see

It hurts my heart to know, that they don’t know you like me.”

“My beloved child, my precious one, you do not understand

We are always here to love you, each woman, creature, and man.

If they seek us, we will hold them, cherish them each day

Your fears, my tiny child, are not for you to say.”

“Blessed mother, loving Father, I am grateful for attune

I’m thankful for the many things you’ve given me, my boon

I will obey as you command and pray I meet your call

For you’re the ones I honor, in this time and for all.”

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Terms of Bereavement

That side of my bed is cold as death.

It fills me with such emptiness.

The lingering scent of absence

haunting the corners as if

they had a right to be there anymore.

I stare at the dreams we once

shared together

as they drift like chipped paint

on a breathless breeze from my ceiling.

I lose the fragmented pieces

as they get swept up each Monday

on chore day.

I recognize the longing for the echoed laughter,

the heat of your kiss,

the flesh of our creation sweating drops of love

onto my flesh on a Sunday afternoon.

I remember that night I stayed up

soaking your t-shirt with rejection

that you soothed with caresses of forgiveness.

I roll away from death

even as I reach my hand to grasp the pillow

that no longer smells like you

even though I’ve not changed the fabric case.

I’d hoped that it would imprison the thoughts

that made “we” an

unbreakable, indivisible, apocalyptic force

to be reckoned with in our unity.

I pull the blanket your mother made for you

(on our fourth Christmas wed)

over my head

tasting the salt of my regret

that I didn’t know that was the last.

That side of my bed is coffin cold.

It fills me with such emptiness.

NaPoWriMo: Finger Licking Good

PUERTO RICAN RED RICE

1 Tbs oil
1 pkg Smokey Links, sliced
1 lg onion, chopped
1 green pepper, chopped
1 6oz can tomato paste
1/2 lg jar salad olives
1 teas garlic powder
1 1/2 teas dry oregano
1Tbs cumin
1# (2 cups) rice

Heat the oil and the sausages medium sliced,

Onions, olives, and peppers add as they’re diced

Not yet for the paste, but add in the rice

Cook until it’s brown stirring it twice.

Add the rest of the ingredients, mixing well

Three fingers of water over, allow yourself to smell

The aromas as they blend

Cook until the liquid is absorbed and the rice is ten-

Der.

This makes me think of Demi, the lady from where this comes

She used to live upstairs from me on Caufield where I’ve from.

She taught my mom to make this, and it’s still a fave of mine

I think of her when I make this dish, each and every time.

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