The Rock

The things

We

DO

for a lil’

thing. Precious.

Incandescent.

Diamonds. A girl’s best friend!

‘Cause they?

Kill people, reap

lands, the commoner

picks it, but not worthy

NOT

            WORTHY

of such material possessions

that started in their hands

                                    Dug Up

from the Earth. Thousands

at a time so common

so pricey, what a conflict.

Commoners,

precious little ones,

delicate fingers slashed, eyes

burning, drained, lungs

congested, infected with cut-dust

working poverty rates

for the 4 Cs,

color, cut, clarity, carat.

Young girl, princess fantasy

crusted in your eyes,

“the rock” black, pink,

Canary yellow illusion

disguised as ever lasting love.

Crystalized symbol

of manhood, more $$$$ is better,

symbol of vows-

manufactured, like a princess.


Note: 5 days left in my verbal-run please donate and give some funds
to http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/

How to Be a Sports Parent

Why, yes! That is @LisaLeslie D-ing up my boy. 

Be punctual for shoot-around and bonding time.

See the kids horsing around, look around

to find your correct cheering section,

don’t want to be amidst the visiting team’s base.

Settle in for your bonding, too: who brought

the post-game snacks? When’s the next game? Did you see

how big the other team is? Let’s hope coach gets this right!

The whistle blows, conversations end get ready

with your-

“Wow,”

“You can do it,”

“Yes, I saw that”

“Don’t give up,” faces.

Learn your kid’s teammates names to encourage

throughout the games, good sportsmanship

starts from the bench.  Be positive even when your team

is in a hole. And when they fall behind a whole

quarter, help that parent, you know the one,

that takes the game too, seriously and is on edge,

to calm down. Laugh, not meanly, when a bunch of kids

fall down like bowling pins, hustling after the ball.

Fantasize about what calls you’d make

if you were coaching the team, smiling big knowing your

game plan would secure a win. The whistle blows

kids line up ready for the slap of the hands and “good game” routine.

Be ready with the after-game snacks and bottles

of water when the your kid comes out the coach’s huddle.

Give your kid a pat on the back, kiss on the cheek, say goodbye

to the others “We’ll see you next week!”.


Note: Writing for a good cause, support independent publishing, support poetry. Donate to my fundraising goal, all donations SHORT, TALL, GRANDE, VENTI are welcome.
http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/

Title: “Cancer Awareness”

Racism, cancer of the mind 
true scourge of our society. Wish it would DIE.   Symptoms include
 closing of the mind, 
hardened arteries, callous, 
violence. Tumors grow
 damaging the senses- reasoning, tombs grow. Blocks compassion, liberty and equality.    


Note: This poem is a "window dressing" which will be featured as part of the "Latin American Art" exhibit @ the Dream Factory Gallery in Frankfurt, Germany.                                                                  

Trifecta

Future Bruin Brewing

Some kids have not 2,

not 1, some kids have 0

parental love.

Broke me off a piece

of a family tree

and built another nest

for him to be nuzzled up

to, get spoiled rotten with a good

dose of “talking to”.  Takes

big hearts to move on

past the muddle

of broken affairs.

Put on some big boy/girl/boi

pants, learn to play fair,

eye on the prize-

what’s best for the kid,

learn, transmit

a trifecta of love.

Some kids have 1 dad,

2 moms, some kids have

3 times

parental love.

Note: show your kid some love. Show this kid some love, donate to my poetry marathon 

http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/ 

dream shop

(for Elizabeth)

Words can’t be arrested,

Go at you- rock’em sock’ em robots.

Spill your evil, sweet, piñata guts.

On your knees! Come out a winner. 

Note: Poem #17 of 31, donate to the my poetry marathon, a benefit  for Tupelo Press:

http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/

The Spirit of My Garden

(for Aruba)

In a corner of my garden my soul grows.

Full stems, dark leaves, my golden-blond-

reddish-in-the-sun fur, blooms into Marigolds.

A marigold from my altar, tipped back by a breeze

took a tumble, crown first then came down stem first

into a pot gaping, calling my name, swallowed me.

My spirit, like a salmon up stream, flowed

into the rich soil.

Still the guardian of my terrain, hard to teach

an old dog new tricks, my scent lingers.

My garden companions, the aguacate tree,

bananas,veggies. Mis amigas,

up to their usual tricks, prance about, chase

each other, harass alley cats and lounge in my radiance.

I see their tails wag, I sway in glee, early

in the mornings our Doña corrals them, our strong pack

still walks the streets.  


*Note, please donate to my poetry marathon. Thank you!
http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/

“What You Do for Yourself, You’re Doing for Others”

-Buddha

let your thoughts of boundless love

pervade the world. Our bruised

ideals and splintered hearts need

it in a mean way, to wash the mean away.

refresh the page, download the bundles,

share, tag, repost, stuff them into our pockets.

don’t black out your face like mold, let love

resist, persist, be ingested and infect like black mold. 

sprinkle it on your little ones in your life

let them taste it like the rainbow not feel,

smell the fear we have of the next emmet till,

trayvon martin of the next generation.

let love pervade. 


Note: if you like it, feel it or are bugged by it please donate
http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/