Ricotta 2d
In Italy we say
that when you eat
a new kind of fruit
for the first time in the year
you can make a wish

so I spent two weeks
eating exotic and strange fruits

but you still haven't came back to me
  May 10 Ricotta
Mica Kluge
See her? With the impeccable taste in fashion?
She's top of her class in calculus. You probably didn't know that.
See him? With the fearless glint in his eye?
He's studying science, but he has the soul of a poet. Tests lie.
See her? Buried behind a stack of books nine tall and three deep?
She's terrified that she'll get a B, because, to her, that's failing.
See him? Museum-quality doodles and red ink decorate his papers.
He'll be president one day, if he can find something that he loves.
See me? No, actually you probably don't see me. Why would you?
I've managed to hang on this far. Maybe seeing gifts is a gift itself.
Didn't they ever tell you that geniuses doubt themselves, too?
That we doubt ourselves most of all?
Your story is just as important as the ones all around you.
Jan 2017
Encountering Jesus at a Strip Club
After Work,
I decided to chill out
By visiting my favorite Strip Club,
"Rowdy Roger's"
To see this hot, Puerto Rican girl named "Luisa"
Strut her stuff.
I ordered a Club Soda,
'Cause I don't drink
And sat on a chair below the stage.
There in the crowd was none other than Jesus Christ!
I couldn't believe it!
Why the hell was Jesus attending a Striptease Show?
I went up to him,
"Hey, Jesus,"
"What the hell are you doing here?!"
"I thought you were pure and chaste and moral and all that jazz."
"I'm human!" he responded.
"Now, allow me to concentrate on Luisa's dancing.'
"She's got one fine bod!"
"But, Jesus," I pleaded.
"Aren't you supposed to be in a Church, preaching the Gospel,"
"You don't want God to catch you in a place like This!"
"God knows I'm here, Moskowitz."
"He gave me the money to buy a beer."
"I'm not a White Supremacist, you know?"
"I appreciate the skin tones of these women from the tropics."
"But how are people gonna' BELIEVE in you, Jesus"
"If they see you in a place like This?" I asked.
"Your Reputation will go downhill," I told Jesus.
"Oh, these people who call themselves 'Christians'"
"Have already destroyed my Reputation, Moskowitz."
"With the support of this guy, Donald Trump"
"By so many Evangelicals,"
"Most Americans think I'm nothin' but a Thug!"
"But don't you think you should be at the Sea of Galilee"
"Or in the Jordan River, Jesus?" I persisted.
"Come on."
"What the hell are you doing here at Rowdy Rogers,"
"Ogling at Puerto Rican gals?!"
Now, it was Jesus' turn to interrogate me.
"Come on now."
"Be honest!"
"Have you ever seen anything more awe-inspiring"
"Than the Female Form?"
"Do you think I really want to put up with that Palestinian/Israeli shit right now?"
"Just thinking about it gives me a headache!"
"So, why don't you just sit back with me,"
"And enjoy the Show?"
I didn't edit this poem at all. I'm just reposting it. It was well-done!
Time of death:
When you told me you don't love me anymore.
Place of death:
The park where we met,
on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
I remember the dreaded words which escaped your lips,
the heat in your words,
the look on your face,
as I took a metaphorical bullet to the chest;
it hurt like Hell.
Cause of death:
When you stabbed me in the heart for the first
and last time.
A fatal blow.
But in the coroner's office,
all the report will ever show is:
time of death:
Cause of death:
Trauma to the chest.
When your heart gets broken by someone, it feels like you've been struck in the chest. The air feels like it's been knocked right out your lungs and you feel as though you can't breathe. You feel a mixture of emotions all blurred into one mess. You play the final exchange in your head over and over again, and each time it gets harder and harder. Heartbreak. It feels like you've been stabbed in the back and shot in the chest all at once.
  May 4 Ricotta
Midnight moons watch
Shining upon her
As she moves
Gracing the night
With every step
Enchanting everything
She is all loving
Heavens daughter
I think I’m allowing myself to accept the title of poet lately.
  May 2 Ricotta
Not Applicable



This.                        Poems
Mess.                     And
My.                         Friends
Nothing.                         More
Less.                      Than

A.                           Mess

                                                    ­     I'm a mess
I'm a mess...
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