Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Some Poetry From My Days

Lunch in a Behavioral Middle School Class


Slurping up
  chunky milk
from white styrafoam bowl
  he looks up to me w/
     wild jittery eyes
     & says
  "slop! I'm enjoying eating 
     slop"
  --boy, just eat your lunch


What Tension Sounds Like

use inside voices
   to make good choices
you can't allow them
to make you angry.
   stop provoking your peer.
   why are you yelling and 
   posturing toward
                   staff
SHE TOOK MY FUCKIN'
         RADIO
   is that a reason to yell
and get in people's faces??


Untitled

I thought she was gone
with her maple colored braids, 
bright unstained smile; with smooth hands
and arms outstretched to comfort me 
back to childhood.
   No, i don't have mommy issues.
If I did, this soft woman would be 
my zen therapist, blue crunchy zoloft
tab, all wrapped up,
into one.
She empowered me to take chances,
never got mad when I quit a job
big brown eyes watched me fall
   in a cloud of dust; get up
   dust myself off, and plan,
   another hair-brained scheme.
She tirelessly watched me; at the time
I thought she never helped me...
But sometimes,
the most help you can give
is watching someone you love,
   plunge head-first with air rushing out
   their nose, into a deep dark canyon of 
                                            granite!
& not helping up.
Maybe, the best thing she did
was fall into my arms at bedtime,
with silence; Stared at me with confidence
open her smooth legs & accepted me.

I drove her crazy
with my on again, off again; I love you
if only you weren't a single mother,
yes, I'd marry you if we can
have a baby & you put me--first
   I made her hair thin, grey, break &
fall, with each attempt to align the stars
to our dreams; I was collateral 
damage to our relationship.

Being real I had to read
the blood in my veins, realized 
I needed leeches to 
expel & let loose all the 
negative energy
that had gathered up 
in the bowels of my valves--
I needed an exit
like my dad just had.
like my ex finally had.
like my mom just did.
An exit.
a gold-plated pathway, away
from the full bosomed 
support wire that 
snapped the experience of 
expectation.

It, she, they,
    are all
not coming back

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