twitters and tweets
pictures are sweets
keeping you hooked
on the tabloid elites
just out of bed, hair on his head
matted and messy, way better than said
your public is waiting and verging on vexed
"stay tuned for more selfies", you casually text.
stand by the mirror and pose for your followers
leading them into the worship of men
drawn to the sight of your bare naked belly
this bowl full of jelly is quaking, and then
this one, her bod, just after the baby
she's worked out like crazy, perhaps she just clazy
spray-tanned and bare butted
tattooed and nare studded
back in the crack but her tact has been share gutted
no worries, it all comes around
in some hotel bathroom you click at your Iphone
like all of the rest of us, yet so alone
trying to snap one both sexy and manly
the wife beater t-shirt, the boxers and phone
we can't really blame you, your business, your life quest
but fashion is funny right down to the jewels
both earlobes sport earrings, just like mommy dearest
whatever your pleasure, some little girl drools
and she scantly clad there, for all of her viewers
could not give a damn about "ahhers" or "ew'ers"
but don't stop, you're on top and making your money
and laughing right back, since we're also quite funny
we once wore our hair all pulled up or with mullet
thought no one was laughing, we knew we were cool
and now all the stuff which we wore gone forever
or passed off as costume, just vintage, old school
where somebody bought it from some smelly thrift shop
and wore it again with a sense of true style
the polaroid pictures we took at the bus stop
that camera is back and will be for a while
Stand at the mirror and smile for your camera
not really getting that folks can be odd
some are perverted, while others disturbed
and still others are cranky and smelling like cod.
Someday you'll grow up, a mommy or daddy or maybe
a granny once shaking her fanny
or maybe a pop-pop
and scoff a their moptop
and laugh with your grandkids
it all comes around.
I understand celebrating
each other's oddities
and the many amazing
things that set us apart--
but I'm afraid we've forgotten
to celebrate how wonderfully
completely and universally
we are all the same.
We've all stubbed our toes,
we've all felt heat, we've all felt chills
we've all looked up at the skies,
and we look at rivers, and valleys, and hills.
We all hold hopes, we all claim fears,
we laugh, we cry, we sleep, we yearn,
we walk, we dress, we jump, we sing,
I'm afraid we've lost touch of our oneness--
maybe if we remembered that we've all been children,
we've all been scared and lost--hoping for the reassuring arms
of mom, dad, pop-pop, mom-mom, sister, brother,
friend, lover, aunt, uncle, teacher, officer, and even pup.
We all have hearts that leap and ache and pump
that beautiful same red plasma of tiny cells and platelets
across our bodies - our bodies that are so very the same.
Maybe if we remembered just how similar we really are,
holding out a hand to a stranger in need wouldn't seem so scary,
wouldn't seem so strange.
Whether you believe in a power above,
or a spirit within,
or one perfect BANG!,
I like to think the beauty of our race,
a race so culturally, economically, spiritually,
geographically, physically different-
lies not solely in our differences-
but instead in the same golden thread-
the beautiful thread of humanity
weaved in each and every stitch
of the fabric we call home.
(Me) pop-pop since the day we first met you always informed me everything would be ok. From your distinct whistle,your classic demeanor and loving charm. You were the richest definition of a man, a father, grandfather and a husband. But above all you were a protector.
As we sat in silence, you and I and I told you I would try to stay strong through this journey, but it would be hard not to cry. I felt I was losing my protection. No words were spoken , you asleep and me in tears. I knew my heart was breaking because my soldier will no longer be here.
( whispers ) pop-pop I need to know it will be ok, I still need that protection.
(Pop-pop) please don't cry because I am gone. Sing because I am free. Remember now I can be happy. A soldier to you I will always be. My child , I will still protect you for God has given me these wings.
Yes I had to leave but not with out a fight. I lived the way I should during my 87 years of life. Now wipe those tears so you can see I am at peace. I have to go and continue my journey to heaven where my wife has built a new home.
So remember even though I left you . Neither one of us will be alone .
In memory of my pop-pop DAVID E EVANS
Sept 30,1925 - Sept 06, 2012
someday i'll sit you down -
who are still just half a thought somewhere inside my person -
and i'll tell you.
i'll tell you the day my parents stopped loving each other
(i was three, but
and the way they never stopped loving me.
i'll tell you the things that i've milestoned in ages -
that when i was 15 i made a terrible mistake
with a terrible boy
and i'll warn you that it happens to everyone once
and you won't believe me till it happens to you ( my poor beautiful babies)
that, 17 and filled with abandon,
i punched a second stud into the pop-pop cartilage of my right ear
(it was ten minutes of biting my lip and
trying not to make a noise
because the only permission i had was from myself)
that, 16 and starry-eyed,
i met the boy who may very well be your father.
i'll tell you that
you'll be surprised at who you end up with
because chances are he was right under your nose the whole time.
and i know that you may not even exist for me to sit down with -
that i may choose cups of coffee and pages filled with words
over ever being your mother
but if you do happen,
and the shadows in my mind become little faces at my feet,
and my doorways become clogged with
light-up pink sandals and
untied muddy gym shoes,
then that's what i'll tell you.
that's what you'll know.
so until then, my little ones
you remain just half-written stories.)