He carries an umbrella if there is
More than a fifty precent chance of rain.
If it pours, I just get wet,
And stomp in mud puddles for good measure.
...
I read an article on aversion therapy
And decided to give it a try
Everytime you cross my mind,
I replace that thought with broccoli.
...
On my 40th birthday,
I went to a book store,
Pulled a book off the shelf
Turned to page eight, and saw my name
...
I'm trying not to think too much,
Trying not to analyze or dwell on the what ifs,
Trying to just get through the next minute,
The next hour, the next day
...
I feel all powerful woman, most of the time,
Like nothing can hold me back
I am the speeding train roaring down the track
And my strength knows no bounds.
...
The loss I feel right now is immeasurable.
You were my greatest lover,
There are no words to describe the heights
Of ecstasy, the countless nights of pleasure
...
We don't see the big picture
But, maybe we aren't meant to,
Or aren't ready to, yet.
I think God gave each religion,
...
I may be the first person to say this-
But...I needed 9/11.
That day that rocked me to my core
And made me step back in fear
...
I have a fetish for those boys
That travel in pairs.
Their crisply cut hair and
Stark, white shirts.
...
My skin is intact
But there are scars you don't see
Scars on wounds still festering,
Scars still bleeding on a soul
...
I was doing my good deed for the day,
I only had to deliver his meal,
Give him a smile and a prayer,
Then walk away, job done.
...
I don't really feel connected to it
This weird lump I found on my body
Seems like a foreign object that
Somehow got planted here when
...
I know it isn't always going to be perfect.
That there will be days when
We'll look at each other and wonder
'What the hell was I thinking? '
...
I thought I'd be ok.
Thought I could just stop by,
Pick up the last of my stuff,
Wave goodbye and leave
...
Well written words, turn me on. Need I say more? I've been writing poetry since I was old enough to put pen to paper. I have been a poetry slam artist for 5 years now-and perform in poetry slams and open mics whenever and whereever I can. I've self-published two volumes of poetry, 'Mural' in 2002 and '40' in 2005. I'm working on my next volume of poetry, tentatively titled 'A Dollars Worth of Karma'. Come see me slam sometime. Better yet, be a judge when I'm slamming and give me a 10.)
Mud Puddles
He carries an umbrella if there is
More than a fifty precent chance of rain.
If it pours, I just get wet,
And stomp in mud puddles for good measure.
He thinks his words out carefully
Before he ever opens his mouth,
Where I am ruled by emotion and say things
Without thinking at all,
Then find myself constantly making amends.
He is linear and I am abstract.
Sometimes I wish I could be more like him,
More sensible, logical, realistic-grounded.
Normal.
But I think with my heart, and react from my gut,
And my head usually has little to do
With any of my major decisions.
I wonder sometimes if he looks down on me,
Thinks I'm insane, being the way I am.
Yeah-he probably does.
I can't say I blame him.
As a child, while my classmates
Were learning equations, I was busy,
Gazing out windows, and letting
My imagination run wild.
I still do that. All the time.
But...poetry doesn't make him weep,
And great art doesn't send his heart racing,
The way it does mine.
And I wouldn't trade that,
Not for all the common sense in the world.
So there it is, when it comes down to it,
I like who I am just fine,
And I respect, and admire who he is too,
Very much so, and I don't want to change him,
I just wish...I just wish...
He'd stomp in a mud puddle now and then.
Love your work, what is a slam?