Day 99 – Smash Tea Kettle

You had that
smash tea kettle
you were
always breaking pieces off
and handing them to me

I strung them together
those pieces
I wore your
smash tea kettle pieces
round my neck

I loved it more
than any diamond
ever saw

I kept a piece
of your smash tea kettle
in my heart
it was the sharpness
that finally

cut me loose

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Day 53 – Goblins and Ghouls

Goblins and ghouls
can only scare fools
a piercing shriek
only freaks the weak
a noose of rope
unnerves a dope
but none of that scares me

a stew of spiders and lizard tail
can easily derail the frail
the executioner’s sudden jolt
can terrify a silly dolt
a grim and gruesome work of art
can spook even the brave of heart
but none of that scares me

for nothing fills me more with dread
than the little voices in my head,
the horrors that torment my soul
so quietly beyond my control,
the constant doubt and agony
the shattering of my sanity

oh nothing out there scares me more
than me

Day 42 – Lulabelle

She was a princess
from another planet,
pure of heart and innocent,
captured by an evil entity
and transformed
into the foreign creature
which sits in my lap today.

She was a precious jewel,
banished from her kingdom,
her memory stolen,
and forced to live out
her days in exile
here with me.

She doesn’t remember
and I can’t tell,
but I know she’ll be rescued
someday.

And when she goes back
to where she came from
I’ll be honored to have served
the new Queen.

Blood Tide

You open your mouth
and the blood tide rolls your heart
out over the kitchen tiles,
a rubber mockery of all those shameful times
you’ve done this before.

You hoped this time
that someone would bring a bucket,
you can’t be trusted with this,
the horrors you unleash, you splash on linoleum,
bowl full of innocent fruit.

You stare, cough uncontrollably,
melt in a heap for less than a minute,
apologize frantically,
look what a mess you’ve made, what a terror you’ve brought
but you’re up

on your knees all hours of the night,
breathing haze from your bottle of bleach.

Day 161 – The Poetry Rap

 

I’ve had this thing brewing
in my thinking cap;
I think it’s time to bust out
the poetry rap!
I can’t freestyle-
that’s really hard-
I labor over words
like they’re all tiny shards
of a great glass window
that I am making.
I know I’m not a rapper,
there’s no mistaking,
but I like a good flow
to communicate
that poetry is music-
let’s get that straight.
If you can’t hear the beat
in a poem, it’s bland;
the rhythm is what helps
the people understand
that you’re not just
reciting pages out of your diary.
The pace can take your point
and make it poignant and fiery-
that’s how you know when it’s a
work of art,
when something you wrote
touches somebody’s heart,
not by lecturing or telling them
how it should be
but by gently inviting them
to see what you see
and to feel what you feel-
of course they must be open-
but you must first be willing to show
how you’re broken.
‘Cuz nobody wants to hear an
arrogant poet,
it closes up your heart and your ears
and you know it
so an artist must strive to be
humble and honest;
you’ve got something to say
but you’re not here to flaunt it.
You’re here to show we’re all
fundamentally the same-
deep down we’re playing
the exact same game-
a game which requires us
to struggle and fight
but we don’t do it alone,
that’s why some of us write.
We’re leavin’ trails of breadcrumbs
to say we were here,
we found love and lost it,
we conquered fear
and maybe somebody somewhere
in the same boat
will find a little bit of comfort
from something we wrote.
And you could give a whole
crowd of people chills
if you take the time to
polish up your poetry skills
but you can still make a difference
a little at a time
as long as you’re honest
even if it doesn’t rhyme
‘cuz we can’t all bust out
with a flow like me
but we can allĀ have a part
in writing poetry.