Cocktail
A heady concoction of desire,
love unrequited and ambition unachieved;
A maudlin medley of the mournful and merry,
a life less lived.
This cornucopia of events.
A recipe.
Panic Bop
Eyes open
Counting the hours
Hot flash
Mental whiplash
Grating nerves
My heart is going to pop.
(When the kids go away, my mind begins to fray)
Was it because their father left me?
Or because he tried to die?
Is it because the kids are so young?
Or because I still have to cry?
Is it the virus, the silence, the civil unrest?
Or is it because the milk just recently dried up in my chest?
There is no way to reason it away,
The paralysis and panic are here to stay.
(When the kids go away, my mind begins to fray)
Meditation and edibles went from one to four,
No sleep, no calm, I was still at war.
Beta Blockers, Xanax, bad TV
Kaiser Permanente gave me the key.
Now, my body can finally rest,
And nightmares become my new, revisiting pest.
(When the kids go away, my mind begins to fray)
#Prompt3
Three Hours In
It is the 3rd Hour
The sun is shining
And I am already talking to myself about powering through
It isn’t that I don’t want to finish this great race
But really, I’d rather be out and about having the sun shine and splash all in my face.
Perhaps a walk will suffice-
Then cool down with a drink filled with ice.
Yes, that really would be quite nice.
Poem #3
Baby Loading…… (For Kristal)
This is the seed that was planted in tears-
Covered in grace and blessings.
This is the fruit that was plucked straight from heaven’s vine
When all the juice was sweet like cantaloupe dressing.
This is the moment,
The ripe moment dreamed of in time
when God decided to send you
To plant, then to sprout, then to grow;
Hidden deep inside your mother’s womb
Protected by your father’s hand.
This is the moment we have waited for-
The moment when what was planted
Will finally blossom and bloom
And make its way to earth’s dear door
For all of us to love.
Mustang (Prompt 1)
Not in sand hills or winding mountains
Sharp turns like a voice that’s more like a knife
Winding I lose traction on the ice and I fear
Damage
Tried to grow a new version of you
Forgot where I planted – forgot to water
Maybe that’s why they show up
Lacking
Always brunette it’s noticeable
Aversion to reflections
Find them less magnetic if they look
Like me
Half-loved and quarter-trusted
Please don’t blossom without me
Don’t wither – I wonder if Freud
Had a garden
My fair skinned flowers how they wrap
Entangle without strangling
She teaches me to breathe
I should love her more
Still searching but this drive makes me sick
Always kneeled behind a tree
Weakness showing empty stomach
You’re not there
My nostalgia tastes like vanilla coke
Straight to voicemail inbox full
I want to be full like that
Bloated narcissism
Set up to fail these frail nymphs
Test them and reject them
The story needs to keep
Repeating
I want to be proven wrong
Cycle repeating like the CD stuck
Roads still icy and you
Still damaged
A preface to a new form
When I was thinking about The Bop, a poem I wrote in 2018 for The Woody Guthrie Festival poetry reading came to mind. Here is the poem, which was published after the festival in The Oklahoma Observer and in my book, I’ve Got the Blues: Looking for Justice in a Red State:
Lines for My Friend, Sandy, Who Wanted a Lighthearted Poem
It’s hard to be lighthearted
when your president’s a liar,
when the whole dang world is threatened
by his pants that are afire.
He shreds the Constitution
and feeds it to the rats,
rules by whim and fiat
and blames the Democrats.
To think, he used to be one!
But then the party turned.
No longer segregationist!
The Jim Crow laws all burned,
at least in legal rule books.
We know Jim Crow’s still here,
and the liar’s words and actions
stir up the racists’ fears.
Adored by evangelicals.
I can’t imagine why.
This preacher’s kid knows Christians,
and this hater comes up shy.
He’s stacking courts with corporatists
undoing revolution.
We shed the aristocracy once.
This backward evolution
should not sit well with patriots,
and that’s us, do you hear,
the workers and the poets,
the brown folk and the queer,
moms and dads, day laborers,
all those who earn a wage,
who vote and pay their taxes,
the ignorant and the sage.
We’re all in this together
We all must march and shout
and call and vote and rally.
We can’t sit this one out.
Here’s hoping there is justice
and it lands his butt in jail.
Do you believe in karma?
Will Putin go his bail?
July 2018
I decided to twist the first line and make the revised first stanza my response for my Bop.
Now, I just need to write the poem. I have an idea and less than forty minutes. Wish me luck!
News
What a nightmare!
Negativity and terror…
No channel to watch,
Hate and lack of tolerance,
Injustice and prejudice,
Is this the place to live?
What can we do?
Pray for a better place.
Watching TV,
Made me sad,
I decided to…
Turn it off,
Listen to music,
Read a good book,
Write a poem,
Cook my favorite recipe.
The only thing I can do…it’s pray!
Then, I wonder…
Are you feeling the same?
If that is what everyone else is doing?
Or only me!
Maybe, pretending to not notice…
Everything it is fine
The only thing I can do…it’s pray!
@Mejia – Hour Three
God-Man
He was before he was born.
He could do anything
Except live.
He was infinity
Encased in a body.
I am that I am.
How can this be?
Two sets that never intersect
Are one.
Both this and not this-
God and not God,
Man and not Man.
Impossible.
I am that I am.
And yet…
The one who is.
The rule maker
Is the rule breaker
Nothing is impossible for
I am that I am.
Hour 2- C Antidote Recipe
Ingredients:
- Love
- Kindness
- acceptance
- prayer
- perseverance
Method:
Preheat love to 200 degrees celcious to remain consistent.
Add Kindness and acceptance to generate positivity no matter the outcome.
Mix in prayer for hope to mould into faith.
Finally spread on perseverance to not be discouraged and remain in good spirits.
Bake for a year keeping an eye out for it to be finished earlier.
The end result will be WHOLE NEW WORLD
Poem 2 (Hour 2) Qundeel
Recipe of Love!
Love is the only food for survival
Upon anyone’s end or their arrival
First take out all malice and grudge
From basket of life, not to smudge
Put mercy, kindness, respect and self-pity
Extract Ego, be watchful and very witty
Mix them well and grind all
Observe good deeds, to avoid crack and fall
Put your love on the flames of reality
Enjoy it with a discourse and tea