The Jamaican sat quietly…smoking a Remington….Madonna vogued…I thought…remembered….
Nothing present will do that…one tends to look back…at past lives…past loves…past sins…past…past..past..praying for a present….
The Jamaican sat stoically…he gave a peace sign…touched his forehead with light taps….a meditative state….
And my mind pondered…what that peace would be like…
I lay in bed with interviews running through my head….your thoughts on life….poetry…the workings of politics……
Asking questions ’cause no-one else will….an exercise in narcissism…wasn’t that always the case….
One night Donohue….the next Charlie Rose…..so smart…intellectual wits being played….wanting so badly..
Fame?…To be heard?….Recognized?…
Isn’t the craft enough?
Yes….yes….it should be….
The art….the work itself should sustain. …
But…this is America…..
Even artists are infected….
It’s called Cablelitus…..
The march in Manhattan….
Where’s everyone going..
Off to make dollars and sense..
As I watch what became of a few…
Unfortunate few….
Swollen ankles…blackened gums…
Will work for food…
Need a hand up….
Anything will help….
Millions walk -by….
Got mine….
Onward Christian soldiers….
To the least of my brethren. ..
To the least…
So be it..
looking at reciepts….
all declined. …
attempts made…
what’d you expect….
cheap noodles….
pans of water…
salt-based flavor packets….
this is living….
starve, the artist said….
I’d rather go hungry, a peace….
with paintings…sculptures…
poems rattle ’round the head….
this life was chosen….
it chose us….
who knows….
beats growin’ up….
I have just written my 200th poem/ flash-fiction piece in this collection. Thank you to all who read and have read the works; it is greatly appreciated.
this comfort….
a cup of coffee…
poems read into night…
jazz radio plays and plays….
simplicity has a charm….
done with money…
what is success…
an ability to wake with one’s self….
there is hope…
joy….
a knowing….
yes….knowing….
open for options…
always open for options…
as comfort comes…
poems read into the night….
and jazz radio plays….
Saw a Japanese Maple today….
We had a Japanese Maple….
Some kid destroyed it….maybe….
Or….. I rammed it too much with the lawn-mower….over and over again….
Perhaps you pruned it to death…always cutting……Couldn’t leave it alone…..
We had a Japanese Maple…
Don’t nod as folks passby….
They’ll think you’re beneath them.
Don’t say hello to seniors….
They’ll think you want something…
Don’t complement girls….
Construed as a pervert…
Don’t look at boys playing ball…
Same rule applies….
Don’t talk to yourself….
They’ll lock you away….
Don’t go untrimmed….
Mistaken for insanity. …
Don’t follow your own god….
No one likes individuals….
Don’t make your own rules…
Who the hell are you…
Just keep to yourself….
And know you dont…belong. ..
That’s all….
That is all…
Kids chewin’ fat..
Hands slapped…..
Flirts with bad intentions….
Do mom’s know you out…
40oz. shared..
Wild screams…
Show’s….’bout ta’ start….
Auto’s audio…blarin’ bass….
Swishers…..Philly Blunts…
Sweet smells fill the air….
Curvy girls get the prize….
Hoopin’….hollerin’….
Whatchoolookinatmynigga….
Giggles…wiggles…
Homeboys rap in Spanish…
Cruisers passby….
Yo…it is what it is…
And….what is it….
Chil’ dog…you ain’t dat old…
Kids smirk…fatman waddles…
Hear….
Young once too….
Go-on…enjoy….
Do it now….all you want…
It is what it is…..Right….
An Obama phone run out of minutes….texting unlimited….
Meds in a daily dispenser doled out like candy coated pleasant pellets….these are the comforts of life..
I’m all the way up….nothin’ can stop me…all the way up…..an’ you can stay up….
Rap rings constantly…so does a large screen television…loud….loud…loud… the ongoing need for sleep…the need for normalcy…..
I’m all the way up, French Montana keeps reiterating….beats bouncing off walls….words filling minds…minds turning….on/off….depending on the drug chosen….
Abilify…..K2…….crack…Cymbalta..smack….Seroquel….what’s the difference?……10-20
I’m all the way up….an’ you can stay up….
dmseay 