Tag Archives: NaPoWriMo

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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NaPoWriMo: I, Tree

The north eastern tree

Brrrr! Yah nasty wind, ye stripped me clothes off!

Ye made me blood retreat from my trunk

Burying me roots in the frozzzzzen earth

Unlike the kiss of your wetted white,

I will return to shatter your deaf silence

With barbaric spears of buds piercing yer with renewed life

I will return!

 The southern tree

Hey, ya’ll! Check this shit!

I was jist standin’ here by the sod of ‘his her road

An dis nassy smillin ting came at me bro!

Flippin me a nasty finger cut uppin der

Ya see that scar? Loss tree branches in a wind storm

Still stannin.

 The South western tree

Wwwwwwaaaaaaaattttttteeeeerrrrr

Fuck you nestle

 The north western tree

I am paramount to the indigenous people

That…HEY! Cut that…bad choice of words

STOP THAT! HEY! That’s my history! HEY!

YOU! LUMBERJACK!

TIIIIIIMMMMMMMBBBBBBEEEEERRR!

–thud—

The Midwestern tree

So ya see, I get used for maple syrup

Vermont thinks they have the major bunch,

But we’re really number one

Except for Vermont

 The plains states, middle America

Come on baby! Let’s do the TWISTER!

Whoosh! Caught me a trailer home!

OH! And a car! Roll the dice, weather,

Papa needs a new pair of 18 WHEE!-lers.

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NaPoWriMo: Coffee or Tea

Ode to Kawphy

Kawphy Thyme is my Bapa's brain child. It is a truly magical experience when done properly.

Kawphy Thyme is my Bapa’s brain child. It is a truly magical experience when done properly.

The dawn blooms silver-pink, barely lighting my path

I climb the high hillside, filling my lungs with thinning air

With burlap in hand, I carefully select the dark red ripest

They drip from the fruited tree like tiny whiny grapes

I don’t cherish the fruit as much as I covet the seeds

The dawn heats water per the dictator’s striking hand

I am in Kenya, Ethiopia, Costa Rica, Sumatra, Timor, New Guinea.

I am roasting in the sun. I am cool beneath the shade.

I am the Sabbats and Esbats wrapped in the Holy Grail

I am the earth which collects my offspring

I am the water that nourishes my roots

I am the air which determines my wealth of ideas

I am the fire on which my ovaries are brought to life.

I am the spirit wrapped in each element,

Indulged with a noisy slurping morning prayer,

“Ah, nectar of the Gods.”

I am Kawphy, not the coffee you seek.

I am the commune of commiseration

I am the lifeblood of the creators

I am the dreamless sleep of the catatonic believers

I am the dream of the hillside, delivered for a tithe of glazed donuts.

I am to be honored as family, birthed to live among emotions.

I am the power to move the world from my small hillside tree.

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NaPoWriMo: Flying Out of this World

The Owl and the Jamie Lopez

I was walking through the Otherwhere, picking dreams to put in my pocket

Like a deer in the headlights I stopped frozen in my tracks for there you were.

I’d seen others before in this place I travel to, but never as intensely as that moment.

You smiled, your blue eye flashing a secret code of knowledge to my spirit

I tilted my head perplexed because I’d never tried to talk to the people I found

I usually just witnessed their activities but didn’t interrupt their travels.

But you, you blinked again, your golden eye flashing beneath sunset pink hair.

You gestured gently to pick up what you were trying to share. I couldn’t

You frowned, your sapphire hair obscuring your lemony eyes. Your heart smiled

THEN

You pulled the stitching around the edges of your heart and allowed me to dive

It was mystical and cosmic as you showed me your walking place. I wept, you smiled.

You took my hand and helped me over the threshold, panting with wildness

I could see the owl. The golden dance of blacks, oranges, browns, and wisdom

Refreshed, invigorated with passion. This time I smiled my rainbow smile at you.

Your aqua hair flashed silver fins of water splashing brightly as you disappeared

That moment was exactly when I knew, I could enter different paths. You showed me.

With permission from myself and the others I meet, I can go anywhere I need.

Only in the Otherwhere can I hear the Divine voice of creativity that calls my name intimately.

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NaPoWriMo: Fifteen TRIGGER WARNING

TRIGGER WARNING: You had no idea

By this time, I was already being taught horrible things; I was six in this picture.

By this time, I was already being taught horrible things; I was six in this picture.

I don’t think you could possibly have meant

For me to return from where I rose my ascent

I was broken, abused, nearly destroyed

All because my father didn’t want to take away my “new toy.”

I held secrets so dark that nobody could love me

Not that way, not no way, not even the slightest possibility.

At fifteen I had not recognized the horrors I’d seen

At fifteen I hadn’t even realized it was safe to breathe

Although the constant abuse had stopped a decade earlier

It didn’t take much to re-abuse me, just be a little squirrelier.

I ran around raw as if chained to a razor blade

The slightest momentum and I’d dive back into my shade

The fears that accosted me, drove me wild with anguish

It took me a quarter century, those demons to finally vanquish.

No, I don’t think you would have, if you’d known what it means

To return to the age of fragility, loss of innocence, the unclean.

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NaPoWriMo: Valued Activities in My Poetry

Experience, Embrace, Enjoy

Southern Spring

Southern Spring

The winter haints poke billowy chill
In the clouds that pass my window sill
My sight obscuring by the white washed flowers
Coaxed from sleep by rumbling showers
I release my heater from whimpering to silent
As the spring rains come with stormy violence
I creep my window up inches by foot
Dependent on if the weather is good
The dogwoods bark perfume
As the red-buds come to bloom
The lazy flowering magnolia trees
Smell like Southern backyard orgies
I heed the spring promising summer lawns
With the haints of winter fading
Now
Gone.

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NaPoWriMo: Poetizing the News of 1913

The assignment is to write the news poetically, from 1913. I express that I do not believe every cop to be a representative of his brothers and sisters. I believe there are good cops as much as I believe there are good people everywhere. If this strikes your conscience, then perhaps you need to evaluate where you stand on race. I, personally, stand on the side of the Human Race with love in my heart. I do not condone the use of violence that seems prominent in law enforcement (admittedly it is reported because it riles up the masses) currently. It was in 1913 but for a different reason even if there are strong similarities.

Negro and Phagan

Negro and Phagan murder trial headline

The Knights of Mary Phagan

The Knights of Mary Phagan no longer wear robes of white

Instead they put on the shades of gray, wear badges in broad daylight

The Knights of Mary Phagan were making “justice” of perceived wrongs

While now the blue badged brothers sing the same lyrics of the lynching song

Mary Phagan was a 13 year old girl, found murdered on an April night

When the nightwitch discovered the heinous crime, reported it forthright

Battered was her death, filthy with dust her face,

Her childish life void of life or innocence in grace

Her neck emblazoned with her own petticoat, her childish body ransacked

That the responding officers were convinced at first their victim to be black

But she was Mary Phagan, just shy of turning 14

just trying to get her paycheck, instead her labor demeaned.

Leo Frank, a Jewish man was accused of committing the crime

The evidence said he’d dragged her face down, which caused the face of grime

But yellow journalism sensationalized the slightest breath of truth

The state of Georgia ran amok chasing stories like the fabled golden goose.

After Leo Frank was convicted and sentenced to life in prison,

The Knights of Mary Phagan, refused this coward judge’s give in

They stormed against the “who cares” guards and took Frank to the lynching tree

Where they made strange fruit of the Jewish man just like they would a darkie.

Over a hundred years have passed since street “justice” faded to shade

But now we’re shown it differently, yellow faux journalism with failing grade.

And we’re told, to look over here while the story is in plain sight

So we can’t tell the difference of 37,000 days and nights

The Knights of Mary Phagan no longer wear robes of white

Instead they put on the shades of gray, wear badges in broad daylight

The Knights of Mary Phagan were making “justice” of perceived wrongs

While now the blue badged brothers sing the same lyrics of the lynching song

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NaPoWriMo: Estranged and Cut Off

Songs of Nation’s Pride

I truly believed at my mother’s knee

That when I sang, “My Country Tis of Thee”

The words I sang were truer than true

That if I bled for honor, it would be red, white, and blue.

But I’ve awakened to find a land divided

Bathed in disparity, desecration of what was once united.

I was taught at my Navy Veteran Daddy’s knee

That the Star Spangled Banner was to be honored deeply

That if I sang with truth in my heart

I’d stand united with my countrymen, never to part.

I believed in the land of the free, home of the brave

But I’ve awakened to find a land of the fee, home of the slaves.

I understood from my Grandparent’s legends

That America the Beautiful open armed beckoned

The words describing purple mountains and amber waves

Breathing life into the fruited plains of graves

But I’ve awakened to find a dying fracked rocky tops

Blackened drought plains laying desolate of crops

Where my family is from in Michigan The Rapids, la Grande

Makes me, all joking aside, a Yankee Doodle Dandy

Where the emblem of, the land I loved

Was supposed to be where there’s never a boast or brag

But I’ve awakened and I’ve found this only applies to non-fags

If you’re slightly brown skinned or poor, they turn you away

Ain’t nobody got time for that, they’ll remove you from society’s gray.

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NaPoWriMo: Poetry For The Blood Flesh Bone And Spirit

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Immortal Life

The Universe beckons with unlimited views, of endless possibilities, of impossible creativity

The Milky Way skitters about like a kitten, while I chat with Orion about deniable topics

I sing a new planet to life while dancing spirals around a tangerine moon

I embrace a tree that has soft pink fur and mint green fingers that hug me back tendril-ly

My body has infinite form. It is how I discovered you searching for me at just the right moment.

Just as I am immaculate in my divinity so are you in yours, together we are creators and destroyers.

Come, let’s dive into black holes to be born again and again like an eternal slip and slide

So that we can laugh with one another in the air of different worlds,

So that we can sing in languages so ancient they’ve not been invented yet

So we can make love under waterfalls of diamonds or daisies while clouds hold us aloft

Let every trouble we’ve ever known fall desolate and lonely into the darkness

Come, let’s join as one; dividing centuries with our offspring flourishing anew each season

Let’s burn rage to the ground, wash tears from our children’s eyes, breathe death to life, and fill our footprints with the petals of flowers that sprout into massive forests of lively discussion.

Let every wonder be a present of unlimited views, endless possibilities, and impossible creativity.

NaPoWriMo: I Made This Poem

The ending lines to this poem are not on this art. Diane Crump of Wyoming, MI is the only one who has the true and intended ending of this ditty.

The ending lines to this poem are not on this art. Diane Crump of Wyoming, MI is the only one who has the true and intended ending of this ditty.

The Dandelion Dress

I want a dress made out of dandelions

And a crown made out of stars

I want shoes the color of the Milky Way

To wear to a dance on Mars

I want hair the color of rainbows

And a song as warm as the sun

Come, take my hand, my friend

Come follow me to the fun!

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