Sunday, July 29, 2007

if ever

there was a time i went back to high school. it was friday.

i constantly complain about egos, morals, work ethic and such... that i forgot i am too -- fallable. and need to be reprimanded for my ugliness in the occassion that it rises and spills from my lips. i am acid too. when i want to be. burning holes of ill will into the foreheads, bangs, shoulders, backs and faces of those that have angered me. i am my own god. no one owes me more than me. so i will wait for nothing. not even the apology, 1 year late. or the handshake. or the fake pound. or the forced hug. i am my own god. need to pray-worshop-and adore myself for a change, as no one will do it better than i can. and no one's critique will mean more than mine. so yea. i am sorry. for becoming the one thing i hate most. and wearing it like a fur, as if it were really fashionable.

Friday, July 27, 2007

my babies...

these are the people that have inspired me, driven me crazy and occupied my last 90 days! send us your prayers for a safe and productive trip to Nationals 2007 in Austin, TX. And if you are around, come check me out!

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

the shape of his manhood

now that i've gotten your attention...

moving: not even remotely over. i think we've cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom and half of the bedroom. that leaves the other bedroom and the living room in ruins.

my writing project: not so much. i swore july would be my month of creative output. but i just cant fly outta this moving funk.

slam: alot of slam ish taking my head out of the above two projects. talktome slam over by friday, that's a start.

his rib: selling outta books. this is the second shipment. you cant be mad at something so beautiful - even if it took forever to come together.

manhood: i had my 2nd car speed chase, ever. see scene below:

driving down a resendtial street. no more than 25, obviously. the driver behind me becomes impatient. rushes up to the left (where parallel parking resides) and he jumps out of his car yelling:

HIM: Ugly Ass Bitch!

Mo (slowing 25 mph to a crawl): me and ya mama can't both be ugly bitches!

HIM: WHAT? (jumps in car and proceeds to follow Mo)

Mo (two cars ahead): FUCK YOU!!

after driving up two blocks and over the hill, i watch his car pass in the mirror. this is when i remember i am not built to fight 260 pound men. no matter how many poems i write about fighting 260 pound men. i find parking, walk into my new house. filled with moving boxes and humidity. and buckle from the weight of what could have happened.

Monday, July 02, 2007

out with the old

maybe it was your coat,
hanging in the hallway
signaling goodbye like
some cheesy john cusak film
that made my breath catch and
burn, fall, funnel clouds to
the corners hiding beneath the
i want them back
before i forget how to inhale with
out your knowing glance assuring
each intake will be as sweet
as when we first met.

if i had
more time, i would've baked cakes
with white icing. lemon sugar drizzled
over edges - sweet and promising
perfect sponge, lulling tastebuds
awakened tongue,
leave me wanting baked cacohphony of spices
i think of our love, packed tightly
with the cake mix.
shifting helplessly under a
mover's direction.