Good Morning to You! REVISED

Sunglasses
Image via Wikipedia

Half awake, look sideways
time ticking away its loss
breakfast snacks hides
buries last cocktail I will
sleep 5 minutes more.

Wake up!
Drooling lateness’s regret
rush the turn of the covers
feel the static of the T.V.’s weather
feel the jilt on the news it brings when it’s summer.

Lukewarm swarms the faucet’s trickle as it drips
decide what is safe to wear, press pour into a Thermos
stare at the clocks that you frantically embrace

not even your pink, yellow and white pills can save you now
you scratch your head aganist whether or not you need a cure
calmly pushing them down in my pouch anyway
As your necessities sigh right back at you:

phone, ipod close by
keys, breakfast, lunch
coffee in tow, mints
cigarettes in pockets.

With sunglasses on, yeah
you’re ready to go, then race.
Yeah with sunglasses on
yeah I’m ready to race, with cigarette lit
pods in place, check for messages.

Catch the steeplechase on the 9:15 R
it will take you to 57th and 7th Ave.
55th is my destination.

Wrestle in between the inhospitable hot seat
a man, smaller than you, with his legs spread apart
displaying what he got, and a woman in petite position
when design decided she is taking on a half more of her seat
when design decided to exclude a space for her

you sit anyway, you squeeze your eyes close, you fit.
At every abrupt stop you hold your breath
as to not lean aganist your neighbor’s edge
but sail you will along in this alone silence
your mind full with thoughts on her
your ex lover, the last time… when was it?
Oh good, I’m forgetting markers.

With sunglasses on
yeah you’re ready to go, then race.
Yeah with sunglasses on
yeah I’m ready to race, with cigarette lit
pods in place, check for mistakes.

Then walk three long blocks
delight up like the horde in front of you
followed by a spit and a mint…

The Path

I don’t expect directions
they’re useless anyway

as my reference

I’ll have to depend upon
my own voice

tending to my own discrete guilt
swearing back as I hope

nobody’s notice in the clouds
nobody’s thoughts in the darkness

to make it seem better
I’ll imagine a Hero

just so not to remember how much
measured haunts my own stairs

listening too long
becoming so too commonplace

dying while my own shadow is so sucked in
moaning a web of a useful-less view

pigeonholes
to cover my own liars

Maybe She Just Didn’t Wanna Dance With You Dude

discoball in Japan
Image via Wikipedia

Well thank goodness for dat, cause I woulda been confused
being as it’s a queer disco ball spinning its bacchanal lights tonight
shiny confetti glimpses of why you’re here, staring right back at me
from across the room.

Did you find my gaze entertaining?
One to test out but never wake up to, cause you’re so sure
you don’t want what society prescribes, and yet you’re here
with us, where poverty procures a so call lesser being.
You wait for him.

I’ve become your novelty of sorts, I’ve become your snicker
with your friends in a corner, watching me to see me
build up the gumption, waiting for the right song to cheer me on.

Did it make you feel wanted?
Most beautiful of all?  When I didn’t ask for your name
your number, who you’d like to fuck on a regular
I didn’t ask for your life, I asked you to dance.

Back at It Again

Catch me on the air next Wednesday, April 27 at 8:00 p.m. as dj Calypso Sally for my one hour show, Broad Strokes, of soulful tunes on Washington Heights Free Radio (WHFR). I’ll be doing my thang, digging deep from my mixed bag of music, playing new discoveries and perhaps some well known artists. Learn how to listen HERE.

Also, I’ll be reading from my manuscript, Cancelled Without Prejudice, on Saturday, May 7th for Fractious Press‘s May Fair event:

When: Saturday, May 7th
Where: Ding Dong Lounge, 929 Columbus Avenue between 105 & 106 Streets
Time: 1:00 – 7:00 p.m.
Cost: Free

In the meantime, here’s what you missed last month: LISTEN HERE.

Playlist

Life PartnerTeams vs. Star Slinger
The SpaceMagnetic Island
Come My SunshineThe Comas
Don’tShadow 
From the Grass DubSly & Robbie
Holy HolyWye Oak
Tonite is De NiteBrother Resistance
SupernovaQuilty
Strings of LifeThe Dirtbombs
Backyard BettySpank Rock
Whop Cocoyea – Shadow
Back to BackWolfgang
Puzzled by PeopleThe Streets
Love MoreSharon Van Etten

Bringing you stories, live events, and much more, WHFR tries and remains independent of any corporate sponsorship.  So, if you like what WHFR is doing, you can donate by contacting us at info@whfr.org.  DIY forever baby!

Also, if you’re in a band or know someone who is, and would like to be on the show, please email me at roarplanet@gmail.com.

Typhoon

Avalanche on Mt. Timpanogos Utah
Image via Wikipedia

I laughed at him–Dr. Lang–the psychiatrist.
Apparently he’s never been at the edge
of any natural disaster–the debacle turbulence
of almost pissing yourself–how long can you hold it?
Or sensed the secret–why a tamed dog one day
ripped apart the baby he once played with. Can you
foresee a trifling accident turn into a typhoon?
Bloodshot eyes witness the terror in the sun
rising, pouring, without a care of the closed curtains
into my sixth floor windowed room. Ignore the taunts
of the stickman’s shadow leaping into the wind
of a cyclonic train. I laughed at him. Unaware of
Nature’s fickle primordial demons, he demanded
I postpone until next month’s appointment.