paying the sheet addict

they called her a deep fiend
a noted fanatic a sheet addict,
with her face in pillows
automatic static was a habit,
electric measures of endeavors
left notes musically classic,
range worth 5 times more than
his bread could basket,
and her body could modulate
in every sense: scales elastic,
no piece
could pass it
up,
and down,
she would sway and syncopate
indicate and accent-uate,
each rhythmical coin that hit the floor,
'til the beat was off then she'd ask for more,
'til her rent was paid and bills were sure,
or until her chords where resolved
and her mind deemed free:
when each harmonious moan
could live vicariously.

the hypocritical feministic type

Just because we've advanced
pushed our rights
pulled our stereotypes
birthed you and
established matriarchal standards
of standards you may
never believe...
doesn't mean
I'm gonna go
out of my way
to be the man in this,
know that
I'm a natural born feminist
(with a problematic male interest)

prove yourself
halfway meet me
then back up what you
mean...
cause i'm pretty clean
and many guys have liked what they've seen

used

you felt used
though circumstances
permitted me
to be so

the carelessness
of your
carelessness
is begging me to
care less nes-
ted are those thoughts
of me
bound and well rested,
and I know you slept
on them too...

maybe sleeping is all
you wanted to do

inadequate human capital

11pm
still on this computer
finishing up this
cover letter

qualifications that aren't really
qualifications

attempts to be seated
age appropriate:
supervisor

riddle me this:
what does a
50 yr. old man do if
he can't compose an email
after falling
3 years short
of college?

ask his daughter
to write his
resume.

Haiku #1 and to mother

Haiku #1
flowed like reaper's cape
and her name was Katrina
they spoke of her not

To Mother
I know of what you do not speak
and why we moved to
these small walls in
Bronzeville

I wish to see you
but your eyes
have seen much more
than my ears can handle

your closet
holds those shoe boxes
frames of faces
I cannot understand

and mother
I know of that
blade under your pillow
that once severed
your own
that time when
you were half past
twelve

I know of those sisters
who called you
as I do
and those brothers
who looked to you
as father
as I do

and you are
tired mother
how I wish to see you

touched me in my sleep

I knew it was you
who touched me in my sleep

you pinched my nerve
like you would my cheek
and pressed
a tumor of sorts

I could not wake
but the first stroke
was felt
right side numb
left without consciousness

what harsh gropes
hands make in the dark

in complete admiration
you fondled
an attempt to express
affection in its sincerity
instead succeeded to
infection in its vulgarity

and slumber could not cure me

girls on poetry

I will write out
every single emotion
I have felt today
despite the fact
that I will
probably feel differently
tomorrow
and did
in earlier yester-years

insert overused
unappreciated
adjective here

oh and don't forget
that he cheated on me too

let me reiterate
my confusion
and hint at his
existence
in an obviously
inconspicuous
manner

then I'll dabble
in Love and on Love
until
my heart can
regurgitate it no more

add a dash of
my overt desires
for reciprocity
with lines
depicting my soon
falling fate
into a pit of darkness

following an elaborate
self-impaling
soliloquy
that coincidentally
hints a sequel

obligations at most

obligations of satisfaction
are obligations still
even without the
extra weight
on that third finger

But they say it's
no task
though it's the
payment for
everything he gave and
everything he will

even when it's unnecessary
it is everything but

can't find
anything else to amount
or equal
his seeming altruism
that will leave you
satisfied