freeverse, monster, opinions, poetry, travel, writing

Addiction

Let me say something now,
and I’ll say it straight:
You are the master, true,
of your private fate.

Addiction’s not a sickness,
it’s a crutch.
It’s a personal weakness,
and as such

it’s your only goal,
the oath of your soul
to break free!
Be the best you
you can be.
-to find truth,
and an escape,
from animosity.

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Beat, freeverse, poetry, Taiwan, travel, writing

April 5 – Dreams

My dreams are distorted,
the night’s not a switch.
It’s like something shorted
out,
and I am plugged into a Kubrick scene
filled with stark white walls,
and flashes
of-conscious-thought
that manage to navigate the miswiring
of my tangled synopsis firing
blanks.

poetry, Taiwan, Teachingabroad, travel, writing

Napowrimo, or Writing Poetry on the Run

Oh shit! Napowrimo,
I nearly forgot.
Poet I may be
structured I’m not.
Here follows four short poems
in rapid succession
That I hope, just maybe
excuse my digression.

April 1 – Sunday Musings

Yesterday, I had to work…
A six day week in all.
While overtime is no stranger
a Saturday’s pretty tall.
So saddle the sofa, and call me a loafer
relaxing is my calling.
Upon my rear, for near a year
or at least, until morning.

April 2 – Monday Blues

Gah! The weekend was too short
and my Monday start too early.
A stack of work besets my desk,
exhaustion makes me surly.

And there they come, the terrorists
to further spoil my mood.
Do they know, that teachers too
dread coming in to school.

April 3 – Breaking Point

Tomorrow is the long weekend,
a five day break.
Which should make this lasr day
a piece of cake.

But, syllabi are designed by beauraucratic sadists,
and my outpile now resembles climbs up Mount Everest.

So, say a prayer unwitting students,
your teacher’s on the warpath.
And, just for once, be disciplined
or today might be your last.

April 4 – Sneaky Weekend

The sun sets on another day
as I lay my head to rest.
The seats in the sixteenth aisle
putting my legs to the test.

The prospect of a Holiday
has set my heart a beating.
Beyond the clouds lies Hanoi
and more comfortable seating.

So, speed me off to dreamland
where time passes quickly,
away from my Asian neighbor
whose food smells quite sickly.

Carry me to Vietnam
where the sun rises on cuisine,
to noodle soups, and French baguettes,
where the street corner is the scene.

freeverse, opinions, poetry, Taiwan, wine, work angst

Wine. Rhyme?

I thought that wine would make me write,
but I guess it’s in the timing.
I tried to let my thoughts unwind,
but my words are hardly rhyming.
Rhythm,
a thing I barely grasp when I’m sober.
Schism,
a place between tonight and hungover.
Tomorrow,
a time I constantly dread-
daily banging of my head-
in a job that wants me dead-
through unwinding
my mental
thread

freeverse, poetry, writing

The Tiny Man

He stands on a thimble
overlooking an ocean of thread,
their loose ends swaying, kelplike
in the wake of a passing fan.
A sail, in the guise of scrap material catches his eye.
And without a second thought he
dives
headfirst into the tabletop.
The colorful strands of kelp carrying him
to the depths
of unconciousness.

poetry

Sorry

My heart hurts,
and it is not okay
that I hurt you today.
But I don’t always get
how to keep my tongue in check,
and I don’t always sense
you’re already feeling tense
so even though-there’s ice in your eyes
I would still like to apologize
for those thoughtless words.
I’m a silly turd.

opinions, poetry, writing

For Your Information or When Trump Met Zuma

FYI
in 2018 you can reuse calendars from 1945
what a time to be alive
when: post collonial powerhouses are crippled
by the mighty stupidity of vain men.
And we, in the shadow of their vanity deny the insanity
of: salaries that have no relation to inflation,
lawmakers that have no place among the thinking human race,
religious institutions that fill our heads with illusions
while we: are carefully weaned by our T.V. screens.