Long Restrooms Poems
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Book nerds enter
at your own risk
foot tap…which way to go
to dash away
down the stairs
to thumb the stacks and stacks
The major place is free
but book nerds long
to own a thousand
million - hug
them all with roving fingers
and supine bookmarks
placed in one and all
The remote control -
books aren’t completed one by one
we flip to different hooks*
and score
Tables at the book sale are labeled
but books can wind up
anywhere
The library ladies look bored
this is not their habitat
they are stared down
made to volunteer
The restrooms remain clean
for who has time
for such things
Filling up my bag -
One of these bound beauties
in its heyday might cost more
than the whole bag i score
Christianity and Poetry
are my main subjects
i’m salivating
And as any book nerd knows
before we start to read
we caress
the cover
and the first couple pages
like soul gazing - also called
foreplay
after all, we are making love
4/23/2022
Brian Strand Contest
*a device especially in music or writing that catches the attention
Arthritis dictates much of what I do,
Relenting sometimes, though. Then I will be
Elated as I feel my strength renew,
Take walks pain-free and do, with energy,
Housework without completely wearing out.
Each week I see more wrinkles and gray hair.
Sometimes my mirror makes me want to shout~~
Enough complaints! At least, my head’s not bare.
My bathroom trips are more than in the past.
Young people, I know you don’t understand!
Glad my home’s small, so I can get there fast.
On outings, restrooms are in high demand.
Last year the doc increased my BP med.
Decaf might help, but caffeine’s such a good
Elixer. It clears cobwebs from my head.
NO caffeine makes folks eat more than they should!
***********************
Year’s end approaches. Thoughts of coming days
Excite me. More than ever, love of friends
And family sustains me. God, I praise.
Redeemed, I’m Heaven-bound when life here ends.
So, I conclude there’s GOLD in life’s late phase.
A splash of liquid…spoiled cloth…
Locked up restrooms, and someone directed,
A simple direction to a covered area…
An enclosed area where the artists were changing dresses
As they were getting ready for a show.
Inside, someone was already there, changing
I was standing, dumb and frozen,
Not knowing quite what to do…...
A silenced pause and anger were growing inside
Not sure, how to egress with that feeling.
On that rather uncomfortable moment
She stood up, a sharp, tall figure,
She told me to carry on…. with softness in her voice
I was suddenly relieved and tried to forget
That specific moment, somewhat suffocating.
Not sure why, I felt, life is a compilation
Of these insignificant, little moments,
Tiny points of recollection of memory…
Of little or no value, whatsoever.
And I felt, tremendously grateful for having a life, there.
(Source of Inspiration: The Prophet : Kahlil Gibran)
I think last night I caught a glimpse into your soul
in the same, unlucky way strangers catch a glimpse
of you through the gaps in the doors of public
restrooms in America. It was pure, unadulterated
panic in your eyes when our gaze met through
the metal door, and like the panic that sets in when
someone knocks on the doors of public restrooms
in America, you said “I’m in here” as if that would
solve any problems at all. I know this might be
crude, to compare your soul to public restrooms
in America, but until you open up it’s the only
analogy I have available so it will have to do.
GRAVIDAS EARTH
the turntable in a whorl, my thumbprint
distinct on 45’s and 78’s and the cover
near the door, spewed upon - i forgive
you my roommate-sister, it’s only cardboard.
afterall, how’d we know, the future would auction
our records, flatsie and dawn dolls, past 2000 —
we couldn’t even imagine. i’m way off track,
follow the grooves behind me, the moves
that define me, the hairstyle without mousse,
cut and blown as i run, always run for the bus.
i’m still running but I’m never late. out the door,
down a couple steps of baked cement — i
think there is a porch now — i could sled the snowy
drive, steep but the road’s at my feet so i walk
with a heavy plaid coat and snazzy boots to
the stop. one highschooler didn’t stay long —
he caught the bus to another place, no time to wave.
the road named after his kin. the bus arrives,
don’t miss it a bit — so loud with its popular crowd.
the school had a fountain, where we’d wash our hands
where the restrooms were still for boys and girls.
our physics teacher gave us speed, well the formula, as
we hoisted ourselves out the window with ticker tape —
did i say i, no - not i, I wasn’t brave enough, not
ready to die. but a boy whose daddy taught biology
drowned in the clouds of a lake. i mixed his tears
with my own. why cherry pick
the incidents of the oldest kid — she lurks in shadows
remembering the haunts of others. Lexie C gallops
with her friend the horse through the valley of our hearts.
she’s the queen that sat beside me in French class.
she deserted us after graduation, taking a one way road
to her heavenly destination.
she will always be young with Scarlet’s hair
and dark glasses, missing what the rest of us learned
in our education on this gravidas earth.
7/2/2019
*Scarlet refers to Scarlet O’Hara of Gone With the Wind fame
"To sleep...perchance to dream...."
The heck with that! How about to sleep,
per chance to sleep! What is this obsession
with dreaming?! Dreaming I can
do anytime awake. Sleeping is a
desperately needed break, not to dream
for goodness sake! To sleep, and just sleep
is what I lights-out seek. Some rest, no dream
of any kind: "Is all we see and seem...."
Stuff it, Poe. Who wants to dream while
sleeping?~ awakened, needing to again
to slowly flow~~~Awake, seeing life
dribble away...I pray, hoping heaven has enough
restrooms for seniors. And no quarters needed,
please, if I can't take it with me for when I have
to go.
In this ing world of false smiles and obligatory happiness,
I am the drunkard who refuses to wash his brain with cheap optimism.
I let the wave of filth flood over me, soaking my broken shoes and tired soul,
While everyone else s themselves with feigned joy.
No, I will not "get over it," damn it! I will stay here, in my mire,
With a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other,
Writing poems on bar napkins and expired bus tickets,
About how ed up life is and how beautiful it is in its ed-up-ness.
My demons? They're drunk bastards I play poker with for souls.
I offer them a shot of my distilled pain and together we howl at the moon,
Drawing maps of despair on the skin of whores and failed poets,
Each scar a verse, each hangover an unwritten epic.
On this journey to the bottom of the bottle and existence,
I discover that the emptiness inside me is actually a bar open 24/7,
And melancholy is the woman who has never left me,
Though she had every reason to do so.
I am an explorer of cosmic hangovers, a cartographer of urban sadness,
An alchemist turning regrets into poetry and piss into wine.
And while the world puts on plastic masks and two-cent smiles,
I display my scars like medals earned in a war with myself.
So, off with your happiness advice! Let me drink my sorrow,
Smoke my loneliness, and write about the ugly beauty of life.
Because in this ty world, the only sincerity is at the bottom of a glass
And in verses written with blood on the walls of bar restrooms.
Publix
Publix is beyond Amazing, from the moment you walk in you're greeted by pleasant fragrances and smiling faces.
A store that is so well kept, From the Parking lot, to the restrooms, along with the produce, Not even their customers feel neglect.
The aisles are like a perfect Labyrinth you could never get lost, Even if a slight chance arose to where you couldn't find something, before you have a chance to look for help a voice utters from behind you hello can I help you? You seem a little lost.
Publix oh Publix you simply are the best of the best, Flawless customer service I thank you for a perfect shopping experience.
By Shawn Munoz
My Most Embarrassing Moment?
Twice I’ve entered freeways
On the ramps meant just for exits.
Lordy! How embarrassing is that?
Except nobody knew me
And with little difficulty
I remedied those situations fast!
Twice or thrice I walked into
Restrooms meant for men.
But no one saw me, or, once again,
Nobody knew me.
I got off lucky.
But there was one time
I did it at a pool.
Without my contacts in,
I might as well have just been blind.
I think the guy I walked in on was naked then.
But he did not know me (Saved again!)
Another time, at age fourteen,
I hopped around the yard, a silly teen
Sitting on a big fat ball -
Called Hippity Hop. I took a fall
In front of my new boyfriend.
I split my pants; he didn’t even tell me,
But once I learned what I had done,
That ended our romance!
I ‘m sure I pulled more stunts than that
Through all my years of school.
But being such an airhead
I simply have to say,
My most embarrassing moment -
Whatever it may be -
I don’t recall it anyway!
Close your eyes: Picture a long-ago time and place
When life was lived at a much slower pace
Think Deep South, small towns or big cities
Your lot in life there determined by race
Colored folks couldn't attend school with whites
Which often meant that their futures weren't bright
Couldn't eat with them, swim with them, use their restrooms
So many white folks just shrugged at their plight
And just as the schools were segregated
So too pro sports leagues were not integrated
Spawning the incomparable Harlem Globetrotters
Talented athletes with pennies compensated
Now open your eyes wide to America today
Where the black athlete dominates the field of play
From Serena Williams to Tiger Woods to LBJ (LeBron James)
What would all those folks from long ago say
Would they think that no progress' been made
When in politics black leaders burst through barricades
From Colin Powell to Barack Obama, tales of powerful drama
The rich and the mighty now come in all shades
Yet today the young say America's racist, oppressive
That the progress folks feel is an illusion, regressive
But if you ask those mythical visitors from long ago
From their point of view, it's quite impressive