My Poems

GETTIN’ PARENTAL (morning crunk w/ Lil Greg)

BRE’FAST TIME!
morning crunk outta da cupboard
big blue bowl, pour daughter’s Kix
mad milk into dis bowl, not too much
all deez drinks — wa-wa, a-juice ‘n’ mo’ milk
sippy cup / funny face cup / ‘nother sippy
WHOO WHOO WHOO WHOO WHOO!
are you ready? are you ready!?
WHOO!
yeah, I’m ready — got cloth in hand
go ahead an’ spill that milk, GO!
I’m ready, got cloth in hand!
BAM, MILK GO SPLAT!
GET LOCO IN DA KITCHEN CLUB!
GET OUTTA YO’ PARENTAL MIND!
wipe up dat milk, rinse dat cloth
wipe up dat milk, rinse dat cloth
AHH, SHIT!
wipe up dat milk, rinse dat cloth
wipe up dat milk, rinse dat cloth
AHH, SHIT!

n o p a n a c e a

no panacea— no simple solution, no figuring it all out
the ducks will never stay in a row, those fickle ducks!
getting ahead won’t happen or it won’t last for long
nothing will last — all wells run dry  — endurance falters
new ailments arise that the usual remedies don’t touch
our security, too, is volatile; our safety an illusion
tonight our days have definitely diminished by one.

so what’s the point, how to go on?

struggle forward for shit’s sake!
grin and surge headlong into the abyss
forgetting the snares and gnaws at your feet
to hell with your insignificant flaws or regrets
that extra doughnut you should’ve skipped—
TOO LATE NOW!
go on from here, make it real, make it happen
and don’t be such a selfish ass along the way,
help another along and be kind, you smug punk!
it wouldn’t hurt to smile a bit more either,
maybe a little humor could ease the burden
of someone in pain; so don’t take yourself too
seriously, never take yourself too seriously;
I mean, look in the mirror— what a shit show,
a cruel joke, what an old saggy skin bag! HA!

None of this sound very good? Well, run to your mama then.

This messy life, it’s what we’ve got. Have it, have it now!
Enough wishing for something else.
No more bullshit fantasy.
This.
The daily struggle, the bonds between us, the agony and joy.
The apathy and complacency, YUCK!
This.
Day in and day out, our best work. Our progeny.
Our precious, fragile lives.

unfathomable times

BREAKING NEWS! TRAGEDY! THIS JUST IN!
One side or the other wrecked the whole world;
it has to be their fault, not ours! Special times,
unlike before, these times of ours matter most.
The day’s decisions, political postures, military
movements and financial flounders are what’s
what. FOLLOW THE GRAND UNRAVELING!

Meanwhile—
Tired old goats enjoy the late afternoon sun,
grazing peacefully while kids frolic nearby.
Mountaintops lit with the same slanting rays
spread their static wisdom and sweeping shade
toward the savanna’s horizon. Children worldwide
improve their swinging skills, mastering the rhythm
of leg pumps and body leans while soaking in sunset.
Undulating, frenzied flight of our fearless progeny!
Middle-aged folks, fed up with inertia, leap from soft
sofas to power-walk a determined mile toward dusk.
Steadfast and sweaty, sated calorie combustors!
Cities of millions, if just momentarily, function freely.
Machines machinate, the vehicular orchestra hums
along, and we safely maneuver rush hour this time.

What a time to be alive! These times of ours,
breaking in unfathomable ways. Crashing as
waves here, but deserving praise over here, too.