Sunday, April 29, 2012


If I was asked to measure the pain I feel
I would have to honestly and truly say
In the most eloquent of mannerisms
"I wouldn't be in this office
Dressed in a paper gown that was made to fit a ten year old
Forced to sit on this paper roll
That had a past existence of sanding down redwoods
Just to say that I have a pinch of pain in the left corner of my little finger"
This isn't an attempt to bring back the graceful strides of a pimp
Or to try to gain sympathy playing the role of the cripple or gimp
This shit hurts!
And I can understand the protocol of procedure
By assessing and analyzing the cause of the problem
But for right now, treat me like a fiend on smack
And tap that needle right into the depths of my arm
And let me sink into the cold numbness like the Titanic
I'm just saying!

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Writer's Challenge #3 >> FEAR

One of my friends asked me to write about a word that truly shakes me at times. Enjoy.

As a child, my gaze remained on the floor
In hopes to not have contact with a world
In which I thought I should not have existed
As a child, I used to have conversations with myself
Cause no one else seemed to want to
Or even showed any amount of concern
As a child, instead of playing with friends
I found myself in the corner of the playground
Listening to the playful sounds of Life
Call me anti-social
Or socially awkward for that matter
Cause for the life of me
I selfishly took it upon myself
To erase any notion of myself
From the equation
I've never thought of myself to be great
Or had any strong or weak possibility to be such
I was stuck on the bottom
Only to catch a glimpse of a speckle that dawned upon me
The one or two times that I did look up
And when forced into a lead position
I found myself in a state of damnation
Cause here was little ole me
Forced to handle the responsibility
That would would result in people either liking me
Or condemning me with their insults and unpleasantries
My wife always says that I was never one to intimidate
Here I was bigger than most
Only to whisper in low tones
And gently maneuver my way out situations
My worst enemies were the intangible thoughts
Of invisible critics
Whispering their most destructive descriptions
To non-existent listeners
Except for little ole me, of course
I mean someone had to listen, right?

Writer's Challenge #2 >> "SYMPATHY"

I've realized that in my 32 years of living
That the word sympathy is a dying art
And though we might say we care
It is just a bag full of hot air
Or a very humble mask we wear
Cause if the situation were to come
Some of us will not be that some one
To reach out and try
And don't look at me from the side of your eye
And try to create self centered explanations to justify
How you do your very best...
Put your "best" efforts to rest
Come with something else
Cause the only person you're lying to is yourself
Let's be real
If it came to helping someone in need
You would do your "best" to avoid their pleads
Like they were infected with a contagious disease!
And the only perfection is God
And the mistakes we make are our own
But lying will only make it worse
When we try to say we're right
Knowing we're dead wrong!
So instead of remaining a distant solution to a near problem
Find a way to get closer to the answer
That will one day solve the riddle in us all!

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Writer's Challenge #1 >> "Love"

I chose LOVE. Yes it is an easy pick but it was frustrating to figure out how I was going to write about it. Enjoy!

I thought I loved her...
In a fit of carnal lust
I thought that after moments of perspiration and pelvic thrusts
That I could call her mine
That was until she told me she was married
And just like my jaw
My heart hit the floor
Only to land with a unimpressive thud!
My name could have been mud
Or dum for ever thinking that
Choosing her as my first
Would make me her last
Oh well!
I can't be mad
Cause she took what I had
With the seduction of large brown eyes
And curvacious figure
She gained the cheat sheet to my maze of protection
And grabbed my V-card with the elegance of a lady
I thought I could have loved her
And in the history of such a word
I would have fought wars for her
Been her Marc Anthony to her Cleo
I would have been her Romeo
Stupidly ending my life thinking that she would have done the same for me
But in reality, she just woke up from her sensual fantasy
Only to get dressed
And walk away....

The Writer's Challenge

I have officially set a challenge with a friend of mine for this week. And being that this dear companion is a few thousand miles away and is quite bored, I thought it would be something to get the creative juices flowing. What challenge?

For 10 minutes a day, you are to focus on one word. After the 10 minutes are complete, you are to write on that word. There are no parameters or rules to this challenge. The only thing is that after you finish writing on that word, you must post it on your prospective blog site. This is to go on from 1/16/2012 - 1/20/2012

Now mind you this is a friendly challenge. Nothing competitive about it... I hope! LOL! Well, If you are reading this and would like to participate, you are free to do so! Just make sure that we have your blog site so we can view your "progress". Enjoy!

Sunday, January 15, 2012

The Ongoing Feud with Writer's Block

Hi, my name is "T" and I used to be a poet....

When I wrote it was like a weight lifted off me
And let me continue through life effortlessly
And when I was writing
It seemed that time slipped by unnoticeably
Until it was time to drop what I was doing
And confront the mundane routines of my life
Like working, cleaning, laundry ... you know, those things!
Well anyway
That's the way I USED to be
And now when I even think about writing a verse
It seems like a well documented curse
That "T", which is me
Is to be frustrated and confounded
By a gift that used to come so easily
I mean even to repeat some of my old pieces
Is like digging for a piece of glass in a desert
And when it came down to performing
You could have called me a practicing expert
Now only to play novice...
If and when I find time to write
It seems fate has a knack
Of placing something else on my back
But a voice still beckons
Only to be locked up with bars lined with
"maybe another time" or "this doesn't sound right"
And what used to be months
Has grown into years
And that voice that used to run rampant through these halls
Is now a faded whisper ducking and dodging through the disappearing thoughts
Of those that used to sit and wait upon the mighty vocabulary of "T", which is me!
And don't think I didn't try to recover for this ailment
By no means was I going to let something like this hold me back
But what had happened was...
Things started getting in the way
Bills started piling up
I mean it seemed that having a job was becoming my worse enemy
Draining me of all inspiration to speak
But, it's a back and forth situation
And whenever I find myself on the winning side
I come out with stuff like this
Only to go back under the radar for a few more months or years...