Drug induced

My brain is mush

Muddled with thoughts of yesterday and the tomorrow that hasn’t quite made it to the day’s rays of sunlight .

My mind is clouded with sleep- the cobwebs outstretched their tentacles and I know it won’t be long til I close my eyes

The drugs take over and sleep I gloriously find.

I have no idea what this I’ve written

But. We will say sixteen has been submitted

Officially.

And tomorrow when I wake

I can only imagine my dismay

As I revisit this poem I wrote

About sleep filled antidotes.

 

Call it what you want

I am done.

I think this marathon has one.

I accomplished what I set out to do

12 hours of poetry

In that I have succeeded

Soon, I will be fast asleep

Maybe i will wake early and play catch up during that little bit

Maybe I won’t.

And you are welcome to call that whatever you want.

The Cinderella Hour

It is normally midnight

When everything shuts down

If you’re in the club, this doesn’t happen til damn near two.

But not tonight.

That isn’t what happened at all.

I got all gussied up,

Over my face, I made an extreme fuss.

I put on these heels- the kind that demand sex in the bedroom

Whew. I’m telling you…

I looked like I had been hand dipped in sin.

And that’s when the police came in-

Silly me, I thought them a part of the show-

Imagined some Magic Mike type of action.

But that isn’t how this story was to go.

With very little discussion and thankfully no guns drawn-

Though of them, they had plenty-

They shut the place down and escorted everyone out.

And that is why, tonight-

The hour of which I must call it quits

Came at ten-

Where not a drop, not even one had entered my system.

Alone

Finally. The pitter patter of little feet are heard only in the echo of my memory.

I am an entertainer and it is time to put on the mask that hides Kim and creates Special K.

This is what I long for during those hours spent with him practically attached at my hip.

Be careful what you ask for. Isn’t that what the old folks say?

As much as I crave the attention; the fame; the spotlight and the stage

I really don’t want to be alone as much as I say.

Hurry

Hurry, Hurry!

I’m late for a very i.portant date

Like the White Rabbit,

I am often scurrying to and fro

Usually with multiple children in tow.

And it never fails,

No matter where I’ve hurried off to-

It is more of the same

Life has become a waiting game.

And that’s why I am trying to learn

To stope and smell the roses-

And why I don’t mind being just a tad bit late.

Temper, Temper, Temper

I am the kind if girlfriend who learns your Buttons

I know when it is okay to have some fun and push them.

I know when you’re not in the mood to play and this best to keep my button pushing at bay.

Tonight, I’m not trying to send you over the edge, but this here outfit is designed to send men and women, too over the edge

Couple it with my words put together to create vivid imagery…

I’m secretly pleading this isn’t the button that makes you call it quits

Cause I’m not playing games and I’m not trying to push any buttons

And I hope you remember, that it’s your shit I want to deal with

And no one elses.

But for now, it is time for the show and I’ve gotta go.

Push Through

Why did I do I do this?

Was it because I thought I could deliver some creative justice

To a world that is hurting, its black and blue bruises starting to show through?

What made me think my voice could change anything?

What words could I string together- that would unite us in love?

I am tired.

I don’t want to go on.

This banner no longer something I want to carry.

I’m fairly certain this gibberish makes no sense.

I’ve got a show to do, so I’m off to get ready.

Folks, these hours are about to get heavy.

But I am a Johnson

And quitters we were not raised to be.

I do not give myself license to give up.

There is no permission granted to walk away.

On this course, I must stay.

Oh, but I’m tired and I long for the day

When I can put this marathon behind me

And just be

Me on my marry way.

 

Green Eggs, Ham and Mice with Cookies and Milk

My name isn’t Sam.

I won’t pester you to eat

Foods that have somehow managed to survive years beyond their shelf life.

I won’t ask you to do silly things like give mice cookies or milk in glasses.

Instead, I’ll invite you to come spend days in the sun

A day with me and you’ll understand the pleasantness of sharing farmer’s tans.

I won’t beg you to go on trips all over,

Instead, I’ll invite you to shovel stalls filled with poo

And I’ll show you the time you ever had-

With a horse under your ass.

Yep, hang with me and you will see-

This is life as it’s meant to be-

And it’s better than any kid’s story could possibly be!

Seven-something, I think

My brain is starting to hurt.

My mind is weary.

I’m not sure I’m doing this right.

New stuff is scary.

It’s like standing naked in front of an audience and you’re all hairy- especially if you’re prone to like being a hair-free zone.

It isĀ  watching your child jump from the roof purposely doing their best to give a ginormous fright.

This is motherhood. Are you ready?

I’m Not Allowed to Listen to Music

Trauma.

Everyone has experienced it on some level.

No one’s trauma is greater than someone else’s.

No one can tell anyone else how their personal trauma should affect them.

A month ago, trauma found its way to my home.

And that is how I ended up with a roommate.

My three year old has taken over.

There are crumbs in the bed, from midnight snacks he thinks he’s sneaking

(But really, I’m just relishing silence night time brings me (more…)