The Poetry Marathon

For $2000 a month
I live in a closet
With shabby windows
the cold creeps in during the winters
And the heat assaults its way in on summer days
I’m either bundled up or lounging in underwear

The rat is the worst of it
Beady little eyes
Tiny little creepy teeth

“Don’t look at me like that,” he chitters while he devours my leftover sandwich.
“I can’t help it; you’re disgusting.”
“Heh. Look in the mirror lately, toots?!”

“I’m not kicking you out per se, but can you bathe regularly? You smell.”
The rat leans back picking at his teeth with one of my paperclips.
“Only if you buy me that lavender stuff.”
I roll my eyes. That lavender stuff is $50 a bottle.

He’s a proper NYC rat.
As big as a cat.
Moody and insolent.
Terrible breath.
Goes by the name of Chad.
WTF, right? Chad?

I could move out, but I’m used to this rat.
“The lavender stuff is in the bathroom,” I say.
He skitters across the floor.
Honestly isn’t the worst roommate I’ve ever had.
I was once married.

This Christmas was going to be special
She’d been planning since September
The tree was going to be simply fantastic
She made all the ornaments by hand

It would be Molly’s last Christmas
before she went off to college
And would be the first Christmas
With her new husband

It’s November now. Thanksgiving a few weeks away.
Every day is a day closer to Molly’s move
Today, she made pancakes, eggs, and fresh orange juice
Bobby ate all of his; her son had such an appetite.

But Molly, worried about her figure.
Hardly ate.
Her husband rushed them off to school.
She kissed them one by one.

She hadn’t suspected her husband
to return early.
kill her and
bury her in pieces in four different
counties.

There will be no Christmas now.
Thanksgiving will be cancelled.
Her children.
All she wanted was her children.
Who will cook their breakfast now?

Panic wears off
Lake life returns to retro glory days
Of teenage boys hanging off of jeeps
Holding soda pops
And teenage girls lounging
under canopies giggling about the boys

The disappearance of
ten high school kids the spring before
stings the town less and less

Runaways, the police said.
Impossible, a mother hissed.
she felt her son alive.
but not a runaway.
The ache of her breastbone told her so.

That last one, a shapeshifter, was a kindergarten teacher
Can you believe that?
A real dainty thing before I snapped her head off
She said she wasn’t an aswang anymore
She’d been reformed

Rules are rules. She’d killed before. So,
off with her head.
Her daintiness dried up quick. Her skin sloughed into dark blue scales.
Her fangs out yea’ big.

She said a lot before the head snap.
That there were few active aswangs now
The humans are killing themselves
Too kill even more was depressing

I hear ya! I said.
Wrapping my rope tightly around her.
Aswangs can be slippery little bugs changin’ shape
Then Bam! They’re gone.

She said she deserved to die for the sins she’d done.
I’d never heard one talk like that before.
She said I looked tired.
Tired of yer mouth, Missus!

She gave me a severe stare.
Told me I needed to go home.
Strange one, that one.
Like I say, off with her head.

That was three weeks ago, twenty towns before this one.
This next one –
A jazz musician. Famous sunava-
Can you believe it?

*An Aswang (or Asuwang) is a shapeshifting monster usually possessing a combination of the traits of either a vampire, a ghoul, a warlock/witch, or different species of werebeast in Filipino folklore or even all of them together. It is the subject of a wide variety of myths and stories.

this sweet little girl
a fierce warrior
born into the world
although her lips blue

truncus arteriosus
a single large blood vessel
instead of two

after the procedure,
the surgeon was cautious of her survival

my girl fought through
the blood loss, the intracranial hemorrhages, the seizures, the acute kidney injury

my baby girl battled for her life
and won

every day, i take her in.
filled with unimaginable joy.

grateful for
her steadfast spirit.
her unyielding will

this is my last shift

I walk out of the hospital and stop outside of the revolving door

I am jostled from side to side

as nurses escape

a swarm of blue and white
their faces as weary and worn as mine

this is my last shift

understaffed overworked underappreciated

I can’t do it anymore

I’m nothing. I’m no one.

stretched too thin. patients who are customers

customers who are always dissatisfied
I’ve been yelled at

I’ve been threatened

I’ve been belittled, dehumanized, and disrespected

for the last time.

This is my last shift! I say to a nurse

walking past me.

And to another and another.

They nod their heads knowingly.

It’s all our last.

my head thick with fuzz
snapping it back
down down it goes
the sting down in my chest

snapping it back
i ask for another
the sting down in my chest
it burns

i ask for another
my head thick with fuzz
it burns
down down it goes

Refactor your code

it is never truly done

you can always do it better

cleaner

more elegant

there is always something nubile and fresh

a new framework

a new programming language

a new device

Keep up!

Object oriented programming (OOP) versus Functional programming (FP)

Keep going!

Angular versus React versus Angular2

Objective C versus Swift versus Swift2

Do not stop!

facebook destroyed myspace

smartphones obliterated Nokia

there will be a new one and a new one and new one

Do you want to be relevant? 

Yes!

Do you like this job?

Yes!

Look ahead into your machine and do not ever stop.

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git status

git add .

git commit –am”who gives a”

git remote add origin https://github.com/imee12/poemAE/blob/master/index.js

git push -u origin master

https://github.com/imee12/poemAE/blob/master/index.js