Hour 10
I want to write, hi
Could you stay a little while
We’re the word belong
Prompt#8 Golden red
‘glazed with rain’ is the line I steal from William Carlos William’s poem– (more…)
Slave Superstitions
Jump rope twirling
Ponytails whirling
Jumping singing
Voices ringing
Step on a crack, break your mother’s back
Black as taboo
Down in the bayou
Worse than voodoo
Hear when they say to you
Step on a crack, break your mother’s back
Teardrops no play
Like a sunny, rainy day
Scary as the doomsday
The ghost will not go away
Step on a crack, break your mother’s back
jj2017
The Boys Are Back
We don’t create legends. We are them.
When we converge, there’s nothing we can’t do.
As soon as they see us coming, their trepidations cease,
Knowing that we’re prepared for anything and ready to
Do whatever it takes to protect our own.
Monsoon Evening
The evening descends amid sudden steam,
that threatens to trample the dingy sheds.
The clock tower bells four o’clock,
and the acquiesce of the frogs.
Over the white-picketed fence,
raincoat hands’ gathering commence.
Leda/Zeus: The Texts
Z (scratching his ass)
I saw you the other night. U up?
L (lotioning her elbows)
Yes.
Z
U up?
L
Did I not make that clear?
Z
LOL. U still mad?
L
Why would I be?
Z
idk. Things got crazy that night.
L
Yeah. You drugged me and convinced me you were a swan. Crazy.
Z
I can tell u r mad.
L
I’m tired.
Z
I get it. In the mood for company?
L
What do you think?
Z
Should I call instead?
L
Are you serious!?
Z
Sure.
L
Sure.
Z
Really?
L
No!
Z
Then what – Im consfused
L
You are a con and you are confused. Congrats.
Z
Hey!
L
Good night. And lose my number.
Z
sure. Whatever.
The brotherhood
It all started in the college days.
We knew it would last.
Back then, it all felt like a haze.
But that was in the past.
Now we’re brothers
As close as can be
And there are no others.
Just him and me
Days Gone By
For whatever reason, the planet keeps turning.
Sun up, sun down. It makes no difference.
We remain slaves to our own fate. As if that
Weren’t poignant enough, there’s really not
Much we can do about it short of throwing our existence
Into chaos or bringing it to an abrupt halt. But life has no
Patience for frivolous requests. This is our time, for better or worse.
Squandering it would be a sign of weakness.
Sacrificial Cakes (14)
It is what it is, will not explain what once was.
This story of resourcefulness may cause you to pause.
Parvati did not cheat and plan to hurt,
she molded her son from earth and from dirt.
The son who questioned his sire and birth
got his head lopped off and replaced with the truth.
What will we put there, where his head used to be?
Why, what’s the very first thing you might see?
An elephant’s head, it truly must be.
Not done with the fighting, his brother was next.
The boys were arguing, as brothers will do,
but who was brightest between these two?
On a peacock Kartikeya took off on one day.
Ganesha stayed back, circled his parents and lay
at their feet, his devotion that ran oh, so deep.
Always so clever, so wise, and so true,
his belly burst open and he dumped out a few
sacrificial cakes,
surprised by a snake.
He stuffed them back in,
securing with snake skin.
So, when you have questions about the intangible and abstract,
Remember Ganesha and his elephant’s trunk.