"Poop" Day 11

dog poop,

bird poop,

person poop,

group poop.

that's the

kind of day

it has been.

"Sick and Single" and "Ever the Day?" Day's 9 and 10

“Sick and Single”

The worst thing

about being sick

and single is that

no one is there

to bring you that

cup of soup, that

extra blanket or

to check in on you

when you need

pampering most.

“Ever the Day?”

Will there ever be a day,

where that scent will not

take me back to 16,

where you, my first love

made me feel like a queen?

Will there ever be a day,

that a single rose

fails to make me grin

like I did when you gave me

my first one back then.

Will there ever be a day,

that someone causes me to

forget the days of you and I

simply because he is

finally the right guy?

“The Public Hearing” Day 8

Young, middle, aged, gathered

in the room. Some to support,

some to defend, some to hate,

others to learn. And despite

the strategic church like

outbursts all were respectful,

that is until a light brown one called

a dark brown one an “uncle tom sellout

negro.” Ruckus ensued, those that

needed to remain fled, and when

reconvened the air had a stench.

That micro incident emphasized

the macro purpose; to succeed

we must treat each other better.

"Next Steps" Day 7

The toe ever so slightly and

slowly approached the line

but so fearful of what might

be demanded once crossed,

it paused and endlessly

contemplated its next step,

not realizing it sentenced

itself to stagnation on this side.

“Quick and Dirty” Day 6 part 2

I'm going to rub one out.

Make it a quick and dirty

poem. No love making. No

delicate or intricate touch. Just

me handling a necessary task

to start my day or end my

night. Addressing my needs

until muse brings climatic

passion back to the scene.

I can't be rusty, out of shape,

or a victim to cramps

when inspiration returns.

"Ride of Shame" Day 6 Part 1

Could it be

more of a

testament

to how you

capitalized

upon your

limited time?

A badge of

honor, of

sorts rather

than of

shame?

“Spring Cleaning” Day 5

I need to pick the cobwebs

from this atrophied mind

to get dusty thoughts

flowing one more time.

To pen a again

would be divine

but first I must revitalize

my atrophied mind.

"From Your View" Day 4.5

As you gaze upon the world,

how is the view? During your

strolls, what is it like see

what others cannot conceive?

When others utter words, do

your eyes focus in solely

on the subtext? Where senses

sense trite, do you see brilliance?

Do you notice dragons where

birds abound? Do you notice

masterpieces where others

identify waste? And when

the day ends, and you

look to your lids, what

images dance there?

I hunger to know what is it like for you

to see past what others can. Does

it alienate or enhance the plight?

Please, may I borrow your sight,

to view as you do, and to see if you

can see what I see when I look at you.

“Train Delays” Day 4 of 30 poems in 30 days part 2

The longest commute

just got longer when

the garbled speakers

mumbled, "this train

will now be going local."

“Apologies” Day 4 of 30 in 30 pt 1

No one asks anyone

who was mugged

to apologize for

being attacked. But

everyone demands

apologies from her

for being raped. She

will not apologize.

“No Escape” Poem 3

My pen plans to devour you.

It plans to swallow you whole,

roll you over its tongue. Taste

every part of you. Categorize

the mundane and the spectacular.

Identify all of the intricacies

until it knows you like it's knows

the composition of its ink and

the glide of its roller...Yeah,

my pen is intrigued by you and

has plans for knowing you in

the most intimate of ways so that

it can place you all over the paper

immortalizing you and sharing

you with the world. All while secretly

savoring the best parts and tucking

them in its barrel for future reference,

for future retellings of you. Yeah,

my pen plans on devouring you.

“Love Affair” Poem #2

There is a special kind

of love affair between

artist and art.

It’s a relationship full of

judgment, criticism, abuse,

dependence, neglect, pain,

tears, starvation, desperation,

scars, games and tricks.

It is all encompassing, all

consuming and self effacing...

But it is a in fact a very

special kind of love affair.

See art cannot exist without

it's artist and an artist has

no purpose without their art.

Together they inspire,

develop, create, question,

grow, achieve, conquer. They

make the other better and

the products of their passion

radiates beyond themselves;

evoking emotions in observers.

Oh this love affair is epic! Far

from easy; usually feeling

pointless. It is not for the weary

but it is a special kind of affair,

a love affair I willing embrace.

Perception Problem

They call her strong, stating

that anyone else facing what she did

would have caved. Yet she emerged

with what passes for unscathed.

She was a pillar to others, though

every singular cell strains to

sustain stability. But to the onlooker

all was ideal, only the trained

would note the quivering muscles,

could see the creviced facade,

or identify the ache in the smile.

What was obvious to her wasn’t

clear to others. And because she’s

conquered this positive game, Strength

to her was their latest dismissal name.

But maybe it was she that was blind,

failing to realize that name was

a hard deserved accolade.

Not yet has she come to claim the grays,

the lines or the scars as trophies

and testimonies; they still simply serve

as avenues back to past pain.

It is tragic really, because there is

a truth still to be uncovered hiding

- This is my first in the 30 poems in 30 days that may turn into 62 poems in 63 days.