30 fin

Posting,

days late,

The challenge,

slated in the win column.

We don’t follow trends 

we type thoughts created 

through imagination,

the mess at my station, 

is not my lot in life;

ai can’t be lived, so I give this 

freely.

Hard to read,

understood

Hard to follow

I get that

Still writing–?

Big facts.

We faced 30 days 

on the back of 

audiobook tour,

upcoming performances,

book signings,

open mics and more

And still did this.

Maybe not my best,

yet I took the risk

took the chance, danced 

on the naysayer 

rooted in the back of my brain

and wrote.

This is 30. 

this was the most.

April 29th The Verdict

April 29th, ‘92,

3:15 in the afternoon, 

and what did LA do?

What did the jury say?

This ain’t ancient history

This is american History, the 

american way

Love to ignore 

blatant evidence, 

this was before 

victim blaming was a phrase,

struck 56 times 

heavily tased, and 

videotaped 

Another King, 

not a doctor;

so called fully integrated 

we was still monsters,

Brutality,

the best option 

for officers of this law,

Koon, Powell, Briseno Wind

utilized excessive force on Rodney King,

clearly on tape 

again and again and again

So on this date, back in 92

LA rose to its feet and showed the world

what it do–

Fires and protest,

stores ransacked & robbed, 

cop cars overturned,

these were lessons learned 

of when injustice is served ice cold

I used to sit back and think what it was like  

in ‘68

Then I witnessed that shit 

in ‘92

Relived it several times, most recent 

in 2020–

you see the pattern dude

April 29,

poetry, politics, prose;

its rhythm to this old writer 

like that sweater that’s old…

knows the folds that’s tethered

to your skin,

this is america 

sin for 

sin

Day 28

On Tuesday we 

travel rabbit holes—

trying to fill voids that 

dreams vacuumed,

left vacant & the abscess 

remains—

Writing is the dream job

I’ve been fired from 

Poetry the process that’s 

been spoken & shunned,

on my shadow 

But I’ll show love to them 

viral pens 

This page & mic is practice 

for the practical 

pipe dream split my dome 

centuries ago 

and I’m still dumb enough to

to chase it with blood 

ruining from my nose; 

excuse me if this spit is red

and some spills out 

to the front row

All a person ever wants

is to be 

Loved

This is day 28 of 

National poetry month

They say the definition 

Of insanity is 

doing the same over again, 

& expecting a different

result

Go touch grass, 

stop fighting the tears,

this conflict is 

worth losing

But do I lose 

if I keep writing 

in the wind

Day 27

Unstructured

freedom doesn’t 

fall

on

deaf ears

The list of laundry and 

dishes and  social 

media posts

won’t

mean much 

to most

Yet I won–

freedom,

unstructured; allowed 

folded clothes and 

dinner for tomorrow 

to be cooked 

Unlyrical, un-

poetical

But free &

unstructured.

4.26--

Double down,

double up splitting

26, thirteen twice 

Not good at splicing 

or division

We’ve made decisions 

Now it’s time to 

deal

with

them

Therapeutic environments

when trauma 

ain’t told 

to therapist 

or though poetry

Doubling down

on divisional 

splits

as time

lives under the guise 

of lies 

and one 

still wonders 

looking to add

to its line

4.26 (#lunar)

Cloudy grey days

can be cozy behind 

glass

as

you try to

Recover

There

is

no

rain smell

Sad days

If there’s a 

#lunar moon

it’s hiding like the 

good writing 

is crouching behind 

the curtains

#vss365

4/25–The ‘I Remember’ Poem

I remember thinking

these children would never 

get to this stage, yet

here there were–

Flowing blue gowns; smiles,

make-up & glitter

Remember those girls 

freshman year, World History

smiling and silly; they promised 

to drive me crazy…

And yes they did slightly

But here we were

Music playing, former students

marching in line

to take seat on cushy cushions 

vs. those hard plastic chairs

from freshman year–

Oh how they used to fight

(yes physically) & cuss,

skip class & vape

like chimneys on Christmas

And here we are

fights resolved, faces fixed,

attended enough classes to 

pass–

Mama’s proud.

And I’m sure some will vape 

by the end of the ceremony

Congratulating the class of 2025

I remember.

4/24

Maybe I shouldn’t say

easy days…

But this is one

beautiful sun, light workload

(and I’m thinking)

at least for the movement,

I have won.

In this area, for this 

second,

won’t be weighed down

by hurts–

just for an instant

box it in the back

of your mind.

Unwind the knots 

in your spine & 

spend the flash 

in the fantasy that’s 

before your eyes.

You’ve done well

old man; your reality

is that old political slogan–

Yes, I can!

4/23

On good days 

we train people 

in person,

engaged.

It’s traffic & 

morning coffee

steaming hot w/

cream.

I forgot it.

That morning drive,

now tolerable when it’s 

trekked only two days 

a week

Normalize hybrid

bridging gaps that 

give & take

8:15 am instead of 

sharp–

We’re shedding old 

ways, Mr. White Folks

made–

call those last lines racist 

if you feel;

we ride the peel residue 

from Covid’s blues,

& boy, am I here for it!

and will enjoy.

Day 22

We be tempted by

temptation & tragedy

teetering on 

bad decisions 

in the depths of our 

Soul—

I ask you,

don’t grow cold

Question the power,

the structure,

the mold

Both toxic & structure

your sense & sensibility 

Ask, 

what it would be like 

to be senile on the Nile;

then, go chase the dream

Chase the strands & seams 

of lost causes & things;

release butterflies 

for the wings that failed you,

And the wings you’ll sprout 

On what the new journey 

will bring

It’s still beautiful

Still has pockets of 

pretty

tucked under smooth boulders

with water crashing 

above,

causing sound 

creating fresh scent 

In city creeks

under city bridges 

as citizens, loved ones,

employees, and day drivers 

speed on

Remember with no regret

Live even though the pillow case 

is still wet 

…just continue to live