In twenty twenty-four, yet I vibe like it’s ‘nine-nine,
Still rocking the rhythm, still feeling divine,
I’m a soldier in the game, got my crew by my side,
Like Destiny's Child, we’re ready for the ride.
Ain’t no scrub yelling from that passenger seat,
TLC taught us, we don’t take defeat,
I’m chasing my dreams, on this journey I roam,
With the echoes of R&B, I’m never alone.
Got my flip phone nostalgia, it rings like a song,
With every beat of the heart, I’m where I belong,
The world may have changed, but my spirit stays true,
In a throwback groove, I’m still feeling brand new.
The colors of the past, they paint my today,
Like scrunchies and flannels, they never fade away,
I’ll dance like no one's watching, with joy amplified,
In the heart of the ‘90s, forever I’ll glide.
With the spirit of the legends, I rise, and I stand,
Embracing the echoes of a carefree band,
So, here’s to the memories, the laughter, the cheer,
In twenty twenty-four, my ‘90s are here!
Scrunchies and spongies and panties.
Oh all the many things a girl needs.
felon feelings feign
taunted tricks trained
seeped in scrunchies
pulpy passion spilled
lofty leering lust
gaunt guts gulped
vying veins scrunching
pruning punctured pelvic
in salient symmetry
pale physiognomy inky
fiery drips fostering
oomphy ocean oozing
death threw that
this taunts tat.
20:01:09:00:11
~Note~ An heart that ignores the emotion, 'love'.
tactic twain trudging
eerie earth moaning
gaunt goddesses grooving
per punctured feelings
on hoisted hankerings
seeped'n salient scrunchies
then mystic metamorphosis
by bully bewitched
callous crest castrating
foil fates fostering:
fighting fortune furiously
nocturnal nature spilled
callous chaos's combustion
war met leisure.
20:01:08:10:08
~Note~ Inspired by Rosalind, Celia and Touchstone's arguments about Fortune and Nature as goddesses. I thereby present a fight between them. They'll keep contending though. No one to lose to the other.
From William Shakespeare's "As You like It".
smirk seeped'n acme
damping dainty drips
of salient scrunchies
punctured puke pitched
on callous crest
pluming pulpy pests
hoisted aura hankering
fostering flattered feelings
callous contractions crumbling
la-de-da limbs lurching
aiding cranky catastrophe
on prurient priest
costly commotion vying
daring damsel dangling.
20:01:06:11:55
Note: A lady passing by...
That record player my older sister tried to hide,
with Foreigner, The Bangles and Madonna intensified.
Me only ten, yet in love with the sexy New Kids,
remember Z. Cavaricci pants and oversized Lids?
My journaling started; I couldn’t put my pen aside.
Scrunchies in every color for the girls to wear,
with fresh cut bangs and long permed hair.
A lunchroom mom my mother was in school,
I was unpopular and lame, called “uncool.”
For those “After-School Specials”, I didn’t care!
I was too old to love Care Bears and Rainbow Brite.
My first boyfriend made a mix-tape just right.
For Christmas I got a Walkman to jam those tunes,
and watched “Facts of Life” and “Silver Spoons.”
Folding notes in school when in another girly fight.
OHHH! The frustration with darn phone cords,
and for chores I would receive fifty cent rewards.
Do I wish to forget the eighties when in my youth?
I loved every second of it to tell the God honest truth.
Like I said... I won't forget those Madonna records.
Remembering the 1980's Poetry Contest
October 26, 2018
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