Category Archives: Writing

Unanticipated Consequence: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Free Verse Poem

The unanticipated consequence
of having
a heart that’s breaking,
and
a soul that searching,
and a mind that’s wondering,
is that a view
of San Francisco bay
at sunset
absolutely flat lines
you.

Nothing.
No emotions.
No memories.
No smiles.
No desiring Allejandro’s.
No craving
walking down Columbus Street
or North Beach to find some pasta
or cannoli.
No wishing for family style
in Chinatown.

Oh wait!
There IS a memory.
A blond haired,
blue-eyed
man,
with his back to the Golden Gate Bridge,
Russell Wilson jersey repping,
hands raised
high
in the air,
middle fingers
extended.

Yep.
F the Whiners.
F the Quakes.
F the A’s.
And the Giants.
F San Francisco.

But mostly,
F the Whiners.

Online Dating Rap WHUT!?! Romantic Iambic IMproVerse Free Verse Rap Poem

I’m online
trying to find
a must dance/
and romance./

But I get no answer/
‘cuz she’s a tiny dancer./
She’s afraid I’m going to pants her./
She won’t give me a chance no sir/
So I tried good-looking girls/
from around the world./
Do you see me want to hurl?/

Even though I rock,/
There’s always some young jock/
Who’s cougar chasin’,/
Showing off his … sock
It’s so frustrating:/
They should play in their own sandbox.
Give us old guys a chance/
To show what romance/
Would
and could
and should be,/
Would she
See?/

I am the epitome/
of the Renaissance Man/
because I can/
fix her pipes!/
No hype,
and be her type:/
the guy she’s looking for./
I can give her more/
of life experience./
because I’m that man.

But do
you
give me/
The chance/
To dance?/
Don’t you believe in the romance/
I wear on my sleeve?/
You want me to leave?

l grieve/
And not believe/
You’re wanting to date.
You say you’ll wait/
And you won’t settle/
But you won’t test the metal/
Of the salt-and-pepper gents/
Who’s got /
What?
Experience?/

Does that even make sense?/
Some may try that dance/
Because I can give you more
of what you’re looking for/
Because I’ve got more
from my head to my floor
you can’t even reach around
All the me you found.

I’m not asking you to buy it.
I just want you to try it.
It’s not like you have to shop/
At some thrift shop./
But you should at least stop/
In the lane./
It’s no game./

Stop And look
And be nice
and don’t judge the book;
Just sample
the merchandise
No matter how ample
I am
because
if you knew how ample
I was
you’d trample
to get a sample.

What?!
That’s no surprise./
It’s all about shoe size.
Poof
I’m outee
In my Audi.

Helping His Mommy At Christmas Time: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Lament

Somewhere tonight,
a son stayed home,
helping his mommy.

The elderly lady moved
through her house,
finding recycled gifts
which she gleefully packaged
to give to her friends.

Her son followed behind,
lifting boxes of lights
and ornaments
and bows
and presents
to help her.

He had friends
laughing
and singing
and looking at
the bright lights of the city.
His eyes sometimes brimmed
with tears
as he thought
of them
and the fun
he could have had.

They asked him
to go.
They offered him
a ride.
He had, at first,
said yes.
But then,
sadly,
he turned
them
down.

He wanted to go.
He wanted to be
with good folk,
like himself.

He wanted to look at
the nativities
and twinkling trees,
and hear the laughter of children
and adults
and the quiet whisper
of people
reflecting
on the gift of the Savior.

He wanted to get to know
more people,
and feel their friendship
and the joy of the season
and give them friendship
and comfort
and joy,
as he knew
he could.
As he knew
he had.

Instead, he did
what he was asked.
He didn’t ever want
to hurt anybody.
He didn’t want anyone
to feel rejected.

He wept
at the thought
that he bruised tender hearts.

Still,
he knew
and knows
he followed his heart.
Still,
given the choice,
this boy
will
always
try to help
his mommy.

Especially
at Christmas.

Trying To Listen, Trying To Be: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse

It has been a very
long
time
since I have tried
to listen
to the Spirit
in everything
I do.

I’ve spent the last
lost
several years
lost,
just doing
my own thing,
not
having the Spirit
with me at
all.

That is a difficult habit
to get out of,
making your own decisions
and just doing
whatever
you want.
I don’t hear him
very well
yet.
I don’t even ask him
as much as
I should.

I am learning.
I’m very sorry
that you get caught
in the crossfire
of my ignorance.

And my mother and I
sing “I’m trying to be
like Jesus,”
and I cry because
so often
I fail
and
so often
I hurt others.
I don’t want to.