Beat, differences, opinions, poetry, writing

Generation of veiled Discrimination

I have friends who are gay,
I have friends who are straight.
They all make love,
and generate hate.
Why do we discriminate?
Why don’t we get along?
Why do I think I’m right,
while you think I’m wrong?

I have friends who are political.
Sometimes they make me sick,
but then I start to think
and realize I’m the dick.
It’s like life’s a broken puzzle
and we’re struggling with the pieces.
Instead of finding answers
we’re all writing fucked up theses.

I have friends who are black,
I have friends who are white.
They all discuss solutions,
they always start to fight.
Why is hate the answer?
Why isn’t love enough?
Aren’t we all just swatches
cut from the same cloth?

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Beat, Inspiration, poetry, rap, writing

Twisted Tongue

All I want: is to listen to rap
and spoken word,
until not even a third
of the shit I say
comes out straight.
I want to
generate
rhymes-every time
I open my mouth,
sound comes out.
Every word a refrain
that drives the plain
and simple insane.
Because, they don’t like poetry?
They don’t like thougts in symmetry?
Well, I don’t mean to be crass,
but they can kiss my ass.
Rhyming’s not a crime
when it’s done with pizazz.

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.

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.