PAIN

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"
No!
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!

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...

Please!

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!

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!

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...


Peace