Sunday Morning

It is Sunday, and about 8:19am here I am sitting in front of my computer thankful for having time at work to pen off some poetry.  Last night wasn't bad; patients ok for the most part, and co-workers worked and team happened. 

I am grateful and thankful for your presence here.  I am thankful you are reading my words.  I am thankful you are spreading the word. 

This month has been more than just writing poems.  It is watching the news and governors and president, and waiting on the word to get back to work.  It is hand-washing and stimulus checks, extended time with immediate family, and figuring out how we bury our dead.

So I offer these poems which have nothing to do with what I just wrote above.  These are #vss365 poems.  These are poems about the word #blue or the color #blue. 

However I wish you wellness in whatever form that may be.  I wish you comfort, smiles, and a speed recovery back to whatever your normal looks like.  And if this new normal is better than the old, than I wish you greatness in your new recovery.  Ashe'

Untitled 1

The flu may be #blue,

but 

that other virus 

is black--

Communities under 

constant attack,

but we already knew that.

Sickness political, 

like the color of the pachyderm 

red hot, unstable spot

but that be what happens

when 

The Vote

flops, and we get this germ

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Untitled 2

Say trombone!

blow me some #blues

Dig Lucille up,

and put her on the track too;

help put this 

evil behind me,

and tell some livin’ truths.

We be strong,

but lies be a battle,

takin’ sticks 

to glass ceilings 

and makes them sucka’s 

shatter. 

Am more than

the stereotypes, the hype,

and shit bout 

super-predators

need to re-write the story

with a bomb ass editor

So the tale is told

#blues is written, 

life ain’t perfect, but

life is still kickin’

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We'll do a third poem maybe later today if things go well. If not, then enjoy the two that are here. 
And be well, I mean that.