Isn’t it Weird (Day 14)

Isn’t this weird?

I do not consider myself a poet.

Since being a poet, you must have something poetic to say.

I consider myself a list writer, a scene creator, a speaker, a reporter & a Emcee.

Isn’t it weird?

I know more about mother goose’s nursery rhymes, television jingles, speeches, theater acts, & songs than poems of well known poets.

Isn’t it weird?

It takes me longer to write a two-minute poem than solving a double quadratic equation.

Yet, I understand that my ways are different than my counterparts. I do not read methodical like Pedro, have political standpoint like Vice, bleed my emotions profoundly like Chloe, talk about the street life like Sho Nuff, bring Worry free feelings like Bethanie, have theatrical antics as AndYes, the storytelling like NSAA, abstract as Danyan, or as hard hitting as Rhony.

I lose poetry slam.

I get small applause at open mics. 

It is a daily scene.

But I rock mics.

So feel my words as I beat my chest, cover my face and wake you up with a soul clap.

Isn’t this weird?

So you could receive the gospel.

I could be an apostle but I am a weirdo.

Too militant to be emotional

Too realistic to be religious

And too futuristic to be stagnant.

For cause and effect,

Jeet kune do style:

I speak direct.

But an angry black man I can not be

Because I am one with my sensitivity.

Game of Fetch

Scrap of metal is flung from one side.

Shadowy figure fly fast to recover it

Land on the thrower’s forearm.

“Well done, Laserbeak.”

Megatron was pleased

Grabs the Autobot arm

Fling it out to a new location

A mound of dead cypertronian bodies.

Today was a good day.

Chicken on the carousel (Day 19)

Sun brighten
A chicken spins around on a carousel
with unquestionable joy.
Round and round it goes.
heat radiate over its skin.
It spins near vegetable patch and rice field.

In a window from a distance,
Someone look out. Intrigued.
they survey the area.
Chicken doesn’t know what to do.
Just sits back and enjoys the ride.

Microwave chimes.
open the door.
pull out the TV dinner.
Stir together the chicken, rice and vegetables. Punch in 2 more minutes.
This will be the final ride.

Ear shot (Day 9)

Feel that!
Feel that pulse beat.
It is a nerve
an idea forms & transports
from the brain to mouth.

During its journey,
letters compile
words fall to the lips
spray to fertile ground
swing my head to give them distance.

They ride down virgin ear lobes
ignite eargasm down the canal.
Become letters then ideas
to a new brain
Home Sweet Home.

Ode to my life (Day 7)

I was born a son that became a brother.
A soldier who became a College graduate; twice
a boyfriend/lover that turn into a father; twice.
But missed the role of husband; shame.

a high school basketball player(center); 1 season
Tae Kwon Do student(Blue Belt); fought a Korean boxer and got silver.
wrestling champion (bronze); never got the medal they owed me.

5k color runner(twice); never ran a marathon.

When I was young I like poetry but, it wasn’t hip-hop.
So, I became an emcee with no DJ.
So, I became a DJ without a studio.
So, I became an engineer but they needed music.
So, I became a producer but didn’t play an instrument.
So, I became a musician
and threw it all away to be a poet.

The Office (Day 6)

Pass beyond a security door and enter large room to meet the time clock. The clock is a Nazi but that is okay, I have to punch it daily. I sit in a 4X5 cubic space in the center of the room. The enclosure has no window to eliminate the distraction of scenery and time. Pictures of beaches fill Bob’s cubicle wall but time carry a knife and comes by every hour to prick our necks. A reminder that our lives lost time. Time kills.

Gluten-free Jeanine silently finishes the last danish from the coffee table. This room would be a quiet place if, not for the tap, tap, tapping on the keyboards.

I monitor the monitors monitoring me. An audiovisual stand-off. As artificial lighting overhead illuminates. Jane tolerates a migraine daily. My calendar is my conscience that ponders what I ponder: garbage in – garbage out.

Dave got fired yesterday. Vultures circle his unmanned desk. I got dibs on the multi-colored markers.

From the break room, the smell of burnt popcorn wafts. It is the perfume of the damned. I scrap together six coins to pay the dealer’s new price: A-3, Snicker bar, please. Office refrigerator stores memories of employees long gone. Passive aggressive notes mark our slow descent into hell. Keep your hands off my sandwich – Phil. Boss brings her special creamer to work and signs her name on it. A sharpie will not stop me. I dump half in the sink and leave a thank you note from Phil.

I trick myself everyday by saying I belong here and this is what I deserve. My therapist says I’m in an abusive relationship with my job.

Yesterday, there was a training video about office shooters. Not sure, if it was prevention or tutorial. Will see how the next evaluation goes?

The Protest at Golden One Center(Napowrimo day 2)

I protest for the wrongs that have been done.
The law does not protect its citizens.
Sacramento allow police to kill the unarm.
Why do you ignore the body count?
Stop the killings!

How dare you block the entrances!
I paid to watch the Kings’ game!
Y’all are in my way!
What did I do to you?
I did not kill them.
Protest at the police station!
Not the Arena!

Movie lover (Triolet)

My great pleasure is at the movie
A Popcorn & drink as I sit content
Watch several flicks that were groovy
My great pleasure is at the movie
It feels like a strawberry smoothie
I use reward points like dollars spent
My great pleasure is at the movie
A Popcorn & drink as I sit content

Day 23: Tako (elevenie)

Korean Barbeque
Sacramento food spot
Kimchi quesadillas & bulgogi burritos

Tako is a Sacramento Korean BBQ Food Spot. It has a Korean – Mexican infusion with burritos, burrito bowls, quesadillas, or Echiladas.  You should try the Kimchi eyerolls. Delicious.  

Day 20: The Shot

As the basketball leaves my hands, thoughts occur:
Will it go in,
Will my 3 months of practice be worth it,
Will my aim be true,
Will the push be enough,
Or is this all a waste of time to think about?

Since, the anticipation has got:
Fans rising out of their seats,
Cheerleaders gripping their pompoms,
Coach slowly crouching,
Bench warmers leaning in their seats,
And a Referee watching agressively.

All to the commentators’ last words:

And He shoots?