You’re a pain in my ass; sassy so-and-so.
Atypical opening as odes go, I know.
But your fiery spirit serves you well thus far,
and as far as you’ve come,
who the hell knows where you’ll go?
I’m going to level with you here, dearest one;
this wasn’t supposed to have rhyme or meter.
In fact, I almost wrote another clichéd line
– about catching the stars, as if!
I mean, I know, right? – but
you’ve been earthbound
for a quarter-century now,
so no more fairy tales.
You’re as tough as I raised you, tougher
than I envisioned, and I’m relieved for it.
You’re tempered for a cruel world, and yet
you refuse to let it make you unkind.
And while I’d love to take all the credit,
like I knew the masterpiece of you
was hidden in the marble all along,
you are the artist of your destiny;
I’m just pleased to see who you are
and who you will become.
I say again, as it is a good catchphrase;
you’re a pain in my ass; sassy so-and-so,
and I’m lucky to have you around, I know,
wherever you go, I’ll be with you always.
Oh, and please rinse your dishes.
I’m your dad; I’m not your maid.
***
It was just a dream; I grasp at the vapors.
Lying between them, I hug their legs close.
Unworthy of wholeness, I hug their legs close.
I can’t see their faces, yet I see their beauty.
I feel where they ache; yes, I feel their beauty.
It wells up within me knowing I am unworthy.
Their pain becomes mine and I’m so unworthy.
We lie there, and I talk of light we won’t see.
The night shines above; starlight we can’t see.
They take in my words in a naked silence.
We strip away lust, leaving naked silence.
Revealing softness, we bare our raw fears.
In dark, quiet space, we share our raw fears.
In dawn’s softened light, I relax my grip.
They scatter, taking flight when I relax my grip.
Released from a dream, still grasping at vapors.
***
Written for NaPoWriMo’s day 26 prompt: “write a poem that uses repetition”.
Recently, I’ve done more than a few repetition poems using various forms, but I haven’t dabbled in free verse repetition. I thought I’d give it a go while writing about a semi-lucid dream I had recently.
Granted, I (poorly) aped Jerico Brown’s brilliant style, so technically it’s not a free verse, but I don’t know what else to call it besides “style-jacking” so, here we are.
Oh, and I’m all caught up now, so it’s bourbon time!
I was stuck in a country music bar on base
due to a gas leak; don’t ask, I didn’t get it
either, but our instructor bought us a round
of Jack ‘n cola to pass the time, and damn, bruh,
that shit tasted like tasty-ass smoke, ya knamean?
I was hooked on brandy at the time, but that changed
‘cause that Jack Daniels tasted like brandy with balls,
but when I told my classmate, he was like, nah, son
you should try this, and he fitted me with bourbon,
and damn man, it was like all my shit locked in place,
the air felt right, the gal behind the bar flirted,
the lady next to me almost got me dancing
and if we’d all died in an explosion that night,
I’d have been pretty chill with how chill things turned out.
But we didn’t die, the gas leak was cleaned-up good,
and my homey who showed me that dope-ass new drink
dropped me at the airport to meet wifey in-time,
and yeah, he probably shouldn’t’ve been driving,
it was fucked-up, but we got away with it, and
that’s not really the point I’m trying to get at;
I mean, when I was trying new drinks and flirting
with women I never would’ve met otherwise,
up to that point in my young life, I never felt
so… you know… alive… like I was finally here,
and all that woke shit came to a dead-ass ending
as soon as wifey flew back in from Chicago,
like, the vibe was gone, the warning signs were right there,
but I just said fuck it and moved on, making sure
I added bourbon to next month’s shopping budget.
***
Written for NaPoWriMo’s day 20 prompt: write a poem that “talks”; that is based in normal, contemporary spoken language.
I typically try to use cuss words moderately in my poetry and within context; never for “cheap heat” or shock value, but when it comes to my normal every-day dialogue, I cuss like a… well… you should know by now.
Note: I know I skipped yesterday. I was drained, so I gave myself permission to take a break. I plan on making-up yesterday’s prompt, though.
on the surface
of an unremarkable rock
hurtling through vast emptiness
in countless relative terms,
one of which –
along with seven rocky
and gassy siblings –
circumnavigates
an unremarkable sphere
of super-heated plasma
– one of countless
sibling-stars clustered
within one of countless galaxies
within numerous
super-clusters of galaxies
within the observable universe.
You lack significance
to even register as dull
as far as the cosmos is concerned,
but you are the cosmos
and you are my cosmos
smelling of lavenders
found only in our corner
of the cosmos
and you taste of honey
made by bees
who defend their queen
nearly as well
as my will
to protect you
and make you laugh,
and upon hearing your laughter,
there probably won’t be
a butterfly effect
that destroys Tokyo,
but as vibrations
of your laugh
met the membrane
of my eardrum,
my heart skipped several beats,
so you shortened my life
by fractions of fractions
of fractions of seconds,
which is far too insignificant
a measurement to fret about.
***
Written for NaPoWriMo’s day 12 prompt: “write a poem about a dull thing that you own, and why (and how) you love it. Alternatively, what would it mean to you to give away or destroy a significant object?”
Okay, so I cheated a little bit and shifted the scale ever so slightly, and I didn’t write about a thing I own. Thirty days of poetry is a lot, you know?
I’m already scared enough of boring folks.
I worry about my own words being too dull for me to write about actual dull things. I’m beginning to get sick of my own poetic voice and writing about my favorite pair of holey underwear just wasn’t going to cut it today.
I.
We are born with no expectations
needs are another matter
connections are made and broken
attachment chains us to fallacy
nostalgia affixes our affections
regret is an illusory gift
II.
I knew you had another
saw you kiss him, looked away
saw through your lazy lies
embraced an empty peach pit
knowing that I deserved it
and perhaps, even less
III.
Told you I’d walk my “friend” home
you saw us flirting, looked away
ignored my brittle excuse
you waited in our empty bed
as I fumbled her darkness for light
leveraging for fullness
IV.
Briefly escaping her fiancé’s warmth
she incinerated herself upon a stranger
telling herself it doesn’t count
thighs crush demands for clarity
trading vows on embers of virtue
fading blissfully into warm sunset
V.
No one deserves anything
ready yourself to release infinity
embrace, learn our broken landscape
most hymns sung are incomplete
from revival to wake; no joy without sorrow
we own nothing, for we are everything
***
Written for NaPoWriMo’s day 7 prompt: write a poem of gifts and joy. At first glance, my poem may appear to be a subversion of the prompt, but that wasn’t my intent.
I gotta be honest, though I’m pleased with the outcome, I wasn’t a fan of this prompt. I found it a bit restrictive, like trying to box a kangaroo inside a telephone booth. (If you’re wondering why anyone would ever do that, well that’s kind of my point, isn’t it?)
I know the prompts are obviously optional, but I’m a sequential thinker and not one to bail on an artistic challenge. Well, not today, apparently, as I managed to box all three elements inside this telephone booth.
Showing my work:
“I ain’t much on Casanova” is from Casanova, by Levert.
“I would love you anyway” is from Sweet Thing, by Rufus and Chaka Kahn
Do you remember me, Eurydice?
We danced the summer in the upside-down
In moon-soaked gardens of Persephone
Below the fruit-bats, we swooped through town
Do you recall the bells we rang;
the song I should not have sang?
Can you trace our song back to me?
Or did you forget the key?
Our harmonious flight
You took wing beside me
Our alighted midnight
When we swelled like the sea
Whether wrong, it felt right
No time for a reprieve
Weather right for delight
Harmony our main key
I could live in your light
Did you want to believe?
Do you remember me, Eurydice?
August nights in electric tide pools
You inhaled habits that felt unhealthy
We exhaled our smoke of fools
Do you recall my answer, miss,
when you asked me for a kiss?
Do you regret the spell?
Cause I don’t kiss and tell
Reminisce on our bliss
Time much shorter than this
Did I comfort you well?
Lost our reprieve from hell
On this I feel remiss
Looking back gives me fits
An improper farewell
Orpheus when you fell
Can we crawl from abyss?
Do you remember our kiss?
***
Written for NaPoWriMo’s day two prompt: write a poem that resists closure by employing many questions and ending with a question. I enjoyed this one and wanted to add to the unsettling vibe by playing with the cadence and changing it up from time to time.
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