2 weeks x 2
future. that’s what I put in notes
to remind myself how often
I’ll be able to see her and pretend
I’m easy to find, same
as when we were kids trading rooms
on a regular basis,
once fear’s been eclipsed by new
and parallel taxation habits,
once we’ve forgotten how it wasn’t
as easy as writing a poem.
Roller coaster mood swings associated with boyfriends, fiance's or husbands on a regular basis
Hot TEA in a small cup? Yes.
But only once in a while.
Cold TEA in a large glass? Yes.
But only once in a while.
Notwithstanding, a large glass of
ice-cold TEA on a hot summer afternoon
on a regular basis is absolutely fabulous.
However, eating with my TEA is a 'NO NO'.
Indeed, TEA TIME, whether hot or cold,
suits me best as a 'stand-alone'.
Hot coffee in a small cup? Yes.
Cold coffee, cup, or glass? No.
I like both TEA and coffee. It's
probable cultural, but in early
mornings, coffee beckons me more.
For me, if there were a drinking contest between
coffee and TEA, it would be a matter of the season
and 'time of day'. Early mornings? Coffee wins.
Mid-afternoon on a hot summer day? TEA wins.
Smiling Smitty has had three wives and counting
He is still cute and engaging, now, but is getting older
He courts women who own their own house and have careers
Because he likes to spend his days on hobbies.
He has had six or ten jobs, but has never kept one more than a month.
Because going to a job every day is “boring”.
The women he marries think he is cute.
He tells clever jokes and stories; he is engaging.
That lasts for the first ten years or so.
Resentment sets in about the eleventh year
Because he does not shop, cook, vacuum, dust
or help with any chores.
He might do the lawn work, but not on a regular basis.
As soon as Smitty gleans that he might get the boot
He finds his next potential mate.
Another woman with a home and a career.
COVID
Everything I built crumbles.
My job goes under
My friends disband
Some of them drop off the face of the earth
Others dealing with trauma for the first time
Nobody talks to me now but the boy
I move in with the boy
Our relationship is strong
My parents don't like him
I like him
They don't like me living with the boy
Despite the benefits to finances
They cant decide how much support to give me
And give me anxiety instead of stability
The boy graduates
I get one more year
HE and I no longer talk at Holiday
I think HE only comes for the food anyways
I finish school
While the school is still a husk
I didn't gain anything
But a flimsy piece of paper
Looking back
Nobody in the school believed in me
Or even thought of me
On a regular basis
That kinda hurts
I can’t even tell
If I failed the social circles
Or if they failed me
Covid Complicated matters
I don’t quite know why I like writing as much as I do
But if I don’t type up something daily I feel quite blue
What if’s parade around in my head when I am awake.
I get ideas at breakfast about sheep brushing a snake.
That’s silly says Trixie, my muse who is in charge of me.
She throws out sixteen ideas that take me to one knee.
We are besties, my muse and I, we write as if we are one.
The most important thing, we agree, is to have lots of fun.
The stuff that comes into my head cannot be from myself.
It is as if they land in my dendrite lane from a dragon-like elf.
Adjectives and adverbs and made up words give me joy.
My incessant writing is more fun than any other kind of hobby or toy.
Faeries living in mushroom houses come by on a regular basis.
Then a thought grabs our fancy about a bicycle donkey oasis.
Playing with words is hilarious to Trixie and me, especially rhymes.
We often stay up all night; tonight might be one of those times.
When you are misunderstood it does not mean it is you.
It very well might be the person who has no way to know
That your face means you are feeling angry, sad or blue.
They might not have any experience to help them so…
Do not take it personally, it might not be your fault.
It could be the person you are speaking too is not aware
Take all comments from another with a bucket of salt.
Not disrespecting yourself or them takes great self-care.
Do not waste a time trying to explain yourself if you don’t want to.
Some people take things “the wrong” way on a regular basis, sadly.
The people who love you and know you will understand what to do.
Surround yourself with these people, and you will feel less badly.
Though few drive off-road in their truck
Pick-up owners have run amok
Having a tail gate
Their mood will elate
While the cabin carries a schmuck
Author's note: A pass to those folks who use their truck for business on a regular basis. However, a status truck reveals a weak mind and hurts the environment more than a "normal" car. Those are already bad enough.
Carmen has never tried to be pretty
Her six brothers warned her to stay plain.
But as she grew, she could not help herself.
Now they are scaring suiters away on a regular basis.
I got Jose, you get Pedro.
Done!
I shooed Thomas, you shoo Jesus.
You are asking me to shoo Jesus?
Cauldron Carrie with her hair of orange and her tale of spit.
She threw chairs and tables on a regular basis; quite a fit.
The rest of us stayed away, we were terrified of this chit.
She was confident and cocky, not remorseful a bit.
Childlike wonder keeps a person fresh, giving her the sense of play she needs
to survive the difficult times. It also brings exuberance, joy and enthusiasm into
her world on a regular basis, reminding her that there is hope and faith.
childlike wonder
freshening up your world
helps you retain joy
Written 6-5-2022
Contest: Like a Child Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Disrespect pours out of this child on a regular basis.
His classmates would like to see him float onto an oasis.
Where he could enjoy his company and bully himself.
Or high and far away, up on a three-tiered library shelf
That he could not yell mean things to them any more
This child is loud, nasty, racist and a ridiculous bore.
His classmates despise him, they do not know that his mother
Has never made him respect anyone, just like his brother.
Harky is a dramatic ten-year-old girl.
Intense with high drama, at a constant pace.
First story she wrote in first grade had seventeen exclamation marks.
Teacher complained at parent-teacher conference.
Mother laughed “Have you met her?” she asked.
I have met her.
I meet her a lot. I am the school counselor.
She rushes into my room on a regular basis.
Flops herself down and turns on her automatic faucet.
She could be an actress. She can turn tears on for a sandwich.
Sometimes I say “Turn the tears off. I don't have much time."
She can do this in about half a second.
I know she is going to make it In Hollywood.
I will be glad to see her there…..
instead of in my office.
[a hard truth people ]
but you can't reason with those
who rape and stone women to death
treat them like cattle on a regular basis
cut hands from youth for simple theft
toss gay people from roof tops and laugh
you can't trust those who build
from the bones of Cordoba
or the flesh of New York city.
You can't reason with those
who slam planes filled with innocence
into buildings filled with innocence
You can't negotiate
with those that thrive on the carcass of fear
gloat while terrorizing their own
bloat on virgin blood
you can't negotiate with the devil...
only a fool would scratch their neck with a knife.
[a hard truth people ]
I was so scared that my hair turned gray.
All because I wore white after Labor Day.
I was so scared that I damn nearly died of fright.
People became violent and I was forced to fight.
People were enraged just because I decided to wear white.
They kicked and punched me and some would even bite.
People kicked my butt on a regular basis and I had quite a scare.
I was so frightened that I constantly had to change my underwear.
I got my share of bruises, broken bones and cuts.
An elderly lady even shoved her foot up my butt.
When it was all over, I was amazed that somebody didn't have to call my next of kin.
If I live to be a hundred, I swear that I'll never wear white after Labor Day again.
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