Day 14 #loop

 Day 14 (#loop)

We let loose 

on Tuesdays

Put #loops in 

history books 

where double 

O’s are eyes 

& witnesses to 

destruction.

We deconstruct the 

damned & damaged caused 

by colonizing demons 

at the end of the bar

I’ll give you 

Black Jesus, if 

you pour my drink

We can debate on 

debauchery and the damned 

who plotted dubious plans 

for green backs 

planted by pink toes 

hate me as my 

‘fro grows past 180 degrees

circumference–

Try another 

conference in Berlin

as Iran wins 

the war on propaganda 

filling all the 

social media pages 

of the day–

Post it.

We let loose on 

Tuesdays.

Day 13 Letter to Myself

 

Take pause,

& still be consistent.

Consider nature’s 

situations, citizens

& cities

This prose be

growin’ old

where’s the 

magic pill with the 

magic cloak

to help me heal 

& cope,

through the 

conundrums 

that’s cauterized 

the good depths 

of my soul

The Trash Heap 

would be proud 

of this collection 

of deception

you call yourself a poet

that’t the biggest 

fallacy yet.

Day 12

On day 12,

I rested.

Far from God--

Judeo, or Christian

yet creator I claim

with my chest

So I rested.

Ran airport 

errands & 

ran into cousins

Still bad at 

staying connected…

Second job, took

day off…

napped at times 

I would run 

group;

this time didn’t 

run these 

old tired bones 

into ground,

didn’t grind 

the beef with 

debt; still 

collect checks 

to cover dreams

and bills

Day 12

steady & harmonious 

as I heeded 

red octagons, 

age, & the wisdom

of taking a break

Exhaled breaths

like winds through 

fresh spring grass–

Day 11

Force words

in quiet morning 

moment.

Rewinding days,

catching up to 

consistency

as dreams feel 

like the fading 

is on the frontline

& you’re brother to 

Marty McFly.

Giving shorts 

to readers with 

ugly knees–

they want pants.

Because pants are long

and cover the ugly

easy.

Words choppy and sloppy

feeling heavy 

like Teeny

is on your chest.

Slide some oil

to me,

70’s baby

bound to new

millennium 

just ain’t feeling right

The internal struggle

unworthy of viral

Vile is not an 

adjective to be used;

scrub it from thoughts 

as the silence becomes 

deafening.

Will throw these 

forced words on 

the wall of the 

blog

and see if something 

sticks.

30 for 30 Day 10

 Day 10 #sing

Belt it out from the 

bowels of the bastards 

who don’t believe in the 

beauty of the sun

#sing the song 

of the remote worker

Remember to touch grass 

from time to time

screen time on overload 

attempt another action

leave the avalanche alone

and inhale fresh air

rushing off cumulous 

connections 

sun peeking 

gives new perspective

allowing to be

#vss365  

Day 9

 

busy, focused

fine hand, handed 

firm drink at day’s end.

along with laughs and 

reaffirming humanity.

be beautiful, be self

steel soul still saddled 

but ride forward 

slight wobble

whip the world with the 

leather it lashed you with 

in past lives

still legendary

dream and plan 

vacations with dementia 

and demented progress 

dug in dirt, but yet to reach

ashes to ashes 

ash the square

square the books

little braided 

brown heads 

still haunt sleep and 

days close 

to commemoration 

take nine breaths 

for billowing wings 

wavering on winds of 

tomorrow

fly on,

and drop

raindrops of hop

on the head of the 

unheard.

Day 8 (ocho)

 Ocho, for 

Senora Sol,

who called me 

Clemente–

danced to afro-rhythms 

& inspired 8th graders 

to expand themselves

Teaching is a hard

job–

But that’s not 

why I bailed

Gets real hard 

raising other kids 

when you can’t raise

your own

Plain language 

not poetic; 

we’ll call it 

ocho,

divisible by dos

for birthdays missed

& uninvited by 

laws & lies 

Loss, losing, loser

Questioning this 

pen, this pad,

them books, this 

life

Down, but not 

out

certainly not filled,

but filled with doubt.

Real words written

in a moment of time

call it ocho,

for consistency & 

loss

Tomorrow’s a new 

day & that

will cost