Long Big deal Poems
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The boss has a hole in her forehead, the receptionist said.
But do not stare or make any big deal about it
Or you will not be hired.
Can we mention it? Someone asked.
They were escorted out, so I guess that was a no.
What if we accidentally look at it? Another asked.
They were gone too.
It was down to three of us now.
We went in and I could not stop looking.
The other two had eyes rolling all over the room.
Finally I jumped over the desk and slapped an enormous band-aid on it.
The boss hired me immediately.
She said she liked people who take the initiative
And listen to their hearts.
As Christmas wish is blessed by an invocation
Some poems shall start with a little introduction
Like when I anticipate a New Year with great delight
It starts with my list of five resolutions at your sight:
Wash dishes after each meal
Whole day teaching kids isn’t a big deal
Sweep the floor before working in the morning
So I can relax as I retreat in the evening
Clean my bathroom while taking a bath
It saves water, two birdie jobs in a hat
Eat more fruits and vegetables
To reduce fats and cholesterol
Paint or play musical instruments
At least after work on weekends
Lord, bless these resolutions that I may follow
I pray not to trade them with the north pole snow
Make me resolute in all fervors of my oath
For a New Year 2022 healthier life and growth.
Dec. 30, 2021 9.16PM
.......................................................................................................
MAY I GREET YOU ALL MY DEAR PS POETS AND THE WHOLE TPS A BELATED MERRY CHRISTMAS AND AN
ADVANCE PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR 2022! MAY WE FIND THIS YEAR A BETTER AND HEALTHIER YEAR FOR ALL OF US.
God Bless you all and your loved ones/family
A world of wonder, but no delight
Anguished with always under plight
Living life doesn’t come easy
Struggles that can become overbearing
Love that is not love at the other end
The unfamiliar blend
Trying to fit in as a Blackman is at end
When you try to explain
It becomes lies by response
True spoken words
Not heard
No one listens
Emotions break out
Even tears
Cries being from a Blackman
Thinking positive is not always an option
Staying away from negativity almost impossible
Possibly forming maybe, could be or never
As a Blackman being the center of attention
Transgression
A black man wonders will he be alive or dead
Thought to think on
Sometimes it’s hard to even get along
A fight here and misunderstanding there
Am I understood
I can’t control what I feel
It is a big deal
Is this what the Black man is about?
Racism at all angles
Is this the way the Black man is to live?
I wonder, truly wonder
No resolutions only conclusions
Drawing only from personal experiences
Having gone through instances
A Black man only understands
I am a Black man
I speak
The Black man knows
The world doesn’t understand, but won’t
I am expected to accept
But I won’t.
If you’re looking for yuletide cynicism here,
you’re shopping in the wrong place.
This is New York City’s time of year.
It’s stood the test of time and it fairly sparkles,
proving that the ordinary can be extraordinary.
With the right lighting.
Lisa’s (parent’s) apartment glitters like our promised heaven on high.
When we left at Thanksgiving, Michael (Lisa’s dad) had the concierge
service stressed, toting boxes of decorations up from their storage area.
When I waved my goodbyes, he appeared to be wrestling an octopus of
cool-white fairy lights into submission. Now everything glitters pyrite bright.
Our holiday time is limited—and this is our chance to unwind—so we’re
selective about what we decide to embrace. For instance, there was a sale
at Michael Kors where, no big deal, I got a pair of brogues, black
leather wingtips that’ll be straight fire with a little black dress.
The bargains were so good that I decided the store must be a drug front.
Not that I’m complaining. Do I ever complain? Nope, I’m stoic.
Like Eric Adams, the mayor of New York, Lisa and I’ve
been “testing the product” of Manhattan's club scene.
We’re searching diligently for the new and unfamiliar.
When it comes to picking which clubs we want to visit,
Charles, our driver and escort (a retired NYPD cop),
has gone as far as to suggest, we’re “out of our depth,”
and refused to let us even try one or two DJ’d, pop-up clubs
in Queens that were getting a lot of heat and likes.
“Roosevelt Avenue is the new 42nd Street,” he’d said.
What does that even mean??
Indignant silence
Anyway,
I hope Christmas finds you all merry and bright and that
your holidays—whichever you celebrate— are carnivals of food, music,
friendship and love—for those are the luxuries that count the most.
Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Merry Kwanzaa, Happy Festivus!
.
.
Songs for this:
Absolutely Everybody by Vanessa Amorosi
Rock With You by Traincha
.
.
A Christmas Playlist—because there's 4 days til Christmas
www.daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_28.mp3
GIVE ME THAT: ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES
INSTRUMENTAL BREAK:
Hey...
Hey, naaa...naa...naaa...na,
Hey, naaa...naa...naaa...na.
Obaapa,
Whine for me tight,
you funky, Wai.
Suormor, yaa he ni suormor yor.
Ma no nkor me ho, wai.
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES (WALKINGSHOES)
(WALKINGSHOES)
CHORUS:
Awula, b3nk3mor mi.
Eish...
Baby give me that now,
Take my hand, let's stroll now.
Give me that...give me that.
Whine for me tight,
Obaapa, you're funky...Wai.
CHORUS:
Awula, b3nk3mor mi.
Eish...
Baby give me that now,
Take my hand, let's stroll now.
Give me that...give me that.
Whine for me tight,
Obaapa, you're funky...Wai.
VERSE 1:
Strap off,
Hey, sister wei,
Gyae na wo s3i mi.
Where you gonn' be?
Ma no nkor mi ho:
Freak me; that be .
Running down the hills,
I get so thrilled.
Suormor, yaaa he ni suormor yor.
Just keep freaking me,
You ain't get me killed.
(Odo kor babiaa odo wo)
Aooo...aaao
CHORUS:
Awula, b3nk3mor mi.
Eish...
Baby give me that now,
Take my hand, let's stroll now.
Give me that...give me that.
Whine for me tight,
Obaapa, you're funky...Wai.
Ooh..ooh...
CHORUS:
Awula, b3nk3mor mi.
Eish...
Baby give me that now,
Take my hand, let's stroll now.
Give me that...give me that.
Whine for me tight,
Obaapa, you're funky...Wai.
CHORUS:
Awula, b3nk3mor mi.
Eish...
Baby give me that now,
Take my hand, let's stroll now.
Give me that...give me that.
Whine for me tight,
Obaapa, you're funky...Wai.
(Ooooh...funky fine)
VERSE 2:
Yeah,
That's so real, that's big deal.
Anokwa, I'm skilled.
You taste like fancy meal.
Got me crazy, when you held me.
Me broni, b3ka me ho hye.
Baby, give me that .
Sakabula bird, diminish my dread,
'cause I'm ain't scared.
Love bread; serve me first.
I'm your best.
Gently quench my thirst,
On my bouncy bed,
On my bouncy bed.
You're gently fed.
Hmm!
CHORUS:
Awula, b3nk3mor mi.
Eish...
Baby give me that now,
Take my hand, let's stroll now.
Give me that...give me that.
Whine for me tight,
Obaapa, you're funky...Wai.
CHORUS:
Awula, b3nk3mor mi.
Eish...
Baby give me that now,
Take my hand, let's stroll now.
Give me that...give me that.
Whine for me tight,
Obaapa, you're funky...Wai.
Always searching for the next good time
and what the world can bring.
Always looking for the next big deal
and what it’s offering.
Never thinking very far ahead
or worrying about the cost.
Never wanting much to understand
or caring what gets lost.
Always thinking I don’t need to change,
believing that I’m fine.
Always doing what I want to do
and taking what is mine.
Never listening to their advice,
for surely they don’t know.
Never going to let them think I’m down,
or I’m out of control.
Always needing more to get the fix
and more to pay the price.
Always promising I’ll give it up,
my own strength will suffice.
Never thought that things would be this way.
Won’t let them know the cause.
Never going to let myself admit
the damage that it does.
Always going through the cycle.
Always starting up again.
Always finding out the hard way
that there’s just no way to win.
Never going stop the bleeding
or the guilt or all the pain,
so the shell of me that people see…
is all that will remain.
The sewing gnome was always home
sewing quilts for his friends and such
Someone said he had written a poem
It’s no big deal, he said, not much.
I wanted to read it and cajoled him.
He thought it was frivolous and sad.
I read it aloud to my husband Jim.
For a gnome, he said, it isn’t bad.
The sewing gnome was having fun on his machine
I dislike the colors, said my Auntie who is glum.
Don’t tell him that, it sounds kind of mean.
Okay, she said, but he doesn’t have to make me one.
He laughed when I told him we liked his poem.
I didn’t enjoy it, he admitted, it was a bet.
When we got home my husband called ….
told him he should post it on the internet.
The sewing gnome thought this was funny.
I’m too busy, I’ve decided to raise bees and stuff.
Like what? A skunk, a deer, a wasp and a bunny.
and today I am fixing my uncle’s favorite coat cuff.
You're tough on yourself,
unnecessarily,
for what you've lost
and wish to have again.
Guess what?
You were never meant
to have whatever that is
in the first place!
You remain dejected
about the fork on the road
you never took.
Big deal.
You were never meant
to take that fork
to begin with!
There's no use
saddling yourself with what ifs.
Resign yourself to fate!
Everything happens for a reason.
Put regret
in your rearview mirror
and be at peace.
It shouldn't be
That enduring ghost
haunting you
time and time again
It shouldn't be
The strings puppeteering you.
Regret is a small fish
To be thrown back to the sea.
Date written and posted: 03/24/2019
It must be like any other Sad day in Lonelyville
So bad
The last of the 6 mangy Cats
Have shuffled past her open window
Some call her Ratty
Some call her Tatty
But to most she is known as Spinster Batty
She gets her kick's daily from throwing
Brick's and Barbs
At passing Cars
Because her family gave up visiting long ago
She has no friends and neighbors avoid her
But its hard to ignore her
Because she gets her kick's
Behind the anonymity of a computer screen
She exists solely as a troll online
Because she can't interact with human kind
For she revels in causing suffering
It makes her feel like she is a big deal
But here's the thing
Those she bates
Can still await at knock at there front door
Or a well timed telephone call
From a real person who wishes them well
While all she has
Is her Avatar as a Sleazy Troll
So scroll away
Dig away you poor lost soul
If it in anyway fills your gaping hole
Saturday tour
Fine arts exhibits;
Innovative textures
Meeting here
With art and buffet;
Small talk punctuates
Look deeply now
So much passion;
Well-endowed
Faces in the crowd
I seek you;
Finder's keepers
Now I can see
Your beauty smile;
My heart swells
Surge of rush
Adrenaline flood;
Fight or flight
Listen now
My lover speaks;
Heart to heart
I grow old
Older than time;
Ageless spirit
From booth to booth
We explore beauty;
Facets of delight
Small talk,
Chit-chat waters;
Big deal in small things
Leon Enriquez
12 May 2014
Singapore