"predicament" poems
Submission
He owns my body.
He owns my heart.
When he’s displeased,
My whole world falls apart
When he’s satisfied by my efforts,
I’m overwhelmed with joy.
Though often mixed with anxiety,
In case inadvertently annoy.
For him i will change,
To almost anything he requires,
For now my only life goal,
Is to be all that he desires.
I will take almost any pain inflicted.
Hold each predicament position.
As he knows the key to my heart,
Is the key to my submission.
So yes I will take any punishment,
In anyway he sees fit.
For him i won’t fight it.
For him i will SUBMIT.
********
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
What is my motherland?
Is it the dust that ravages my lungs
Or the bones of my ancestors
Humming softly the old and forgotten
What is my motherland?
Is it where I was born?
A piece of land, a group of people?
Or is it the place where
It's mothers are graded
In layers
Where some wombs only give birth
To sub humans
Where some wombs are scarred
Born from the ashes of a thousand dreams burnt down
I'm a survivor
Of all they could throw at you
Of all their insults
The predicament
My mother's womb that withstood all it could
And some more
They tell me this is my land
That it is my mother
The birth giver and sustainer of life
I spit on their faces
My motherland never was this piece of land
Or the people who **** on its soul
Each and every day
My people lived in a different world
On this piece of land where we were worse than animals to you
Where is my motherland?
I have none
Robbed of it since my birth
Where is my motherland?
But in the hearts of all who are like me
Set in stone
Yet defying gravity
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
The mirror reveals a face naked and bleak,
the sweatpants have holes and the T-shirt is frayed.
It'll be over in a couple of weeks.
The hours spent escaping to Twitter speak
to the test on the floor with a failing grade.
The mirror reveals a face naked and bleak.
The tissue rips across my salty cheek
while my transcript laughs at the mess that I've made.
It'll be over in a couple of weeks.
I'll go to class tired and return home weak;
won't even bother with the "good girl" charade.
The mirror reveals a face naked and bleak.
"It's fine, Dad. My predicament's not unique.
I'll get my diploma, and all this will fade.
It'll be over in a couple of weeks."
Yet perhaps this last piece of paper I seek
will only frame the path from which I've strayed.
The mirror reveals a face naked and bleak;
It'll be over in a couple of weeks.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
amidst Jeffersonian opulence
the Prez broke bread with his
GOP poker face friends
to solve government gridlock
and sequester predicament trends
citizens of the republic
hopeful for nonsense to cease
sat at the table asking
“would you pass
the biscuits please?”
Obama perused the wine list
boldly choosing a luscious Merlot
senators ordered the finest hors d'oeuvres
the guests were all aglow
numerous delectable dishes
were liberally splayed on the table
revelers sipped flowing vintages
wine a surefire icebreaker
sparkling crystal Lennox flutes
tinkled with convivial release
while America’s disenfranchised
voices ask
“would you pass
the biscuits please?”
chutney meat, curried hens and
sweet walnut rainbow trout
the table a horn a plenty
the guests gorged on fine cuisine
a blessed nations bounty
the feast consumed
the Senators sated
said it was some
of the finest ever served
but the taxpayers only
got a peak of the banquet
a whiff of senators nerve
and asked
“would you pass
the biscuits please?”
the dessert cart was rolled in
with custards, cakes, creme brulee
cordials, cognac and VSOP tastes
rounded out the wholesome feast
when the check was presented
for payment all guests headed
for the door with haste
they told the waiter the bill of fare
was covered
by the guy asking...
“would you pass
the biscuits please?”
Music Selection:
Andre Williams:
Pass The Biscuits Please
jbm
Oakland
3/7/13
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
“By any means necessary”
Words of encouragement to my self-depreciated soul
Pure happiness coming at a premium
The outside world strips me; making me its *****
Strange lips and unfamiliar hands cradle me
Satisfaction in this sense is only temporary
Criticism coming from every direction
Questioning whether my lifestyle is necessary
I’ve never enjoyed my naked predicament
However, it’s my only productive option
Allowing simpletons to simply have their way
Faking pleasure, keeping my pain locked in
After so much abuse, I try to be a man
Clothing myself again, ******* up the tears
The world has other ideas
Unleashing every one of my fears
Again, cold and abandoned
I find myself back at square one
Becoming a slave to the world
Just another form of prostitution
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
My girl died and I lost my mind
You were here for me when I was on the edge and almost took my life away
She was all I had
I had just committed, but unfortunately she took her life away - thinking this was the way out of the world of the cruel
My heart was between her thighs - she fell and it broke
I still bleed, pain - no happiness
Her picture still lingers in my eyes
She's all that I can see
I got this new girl, but I can't get my mind off this predicament
Things aren't the same - it's hard not to think about her
[Inspired by: Ab Soul Ft Jhene Aiko - Closure]
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth as I gulped;
My head tilted upwards and stared at the sky filled with the
blue color that reminds me of your eyes filled with
wonders, trying not to look directly into the windows of your
soul;
I did all these not to suppress my anger, but something even more
difficult;
But no matter what I do, everything is not under my
control and will
never be
For these tears still streamed down my cheeks filled with deep sorrow and melancholy;
Yes, it's hard;
It's making me bleed so much that I feel like I'm dying yet still continuing to
breathe;
It's far more arduous than any predicament that I have encountered in my whole existence;
Yet I still have to do it;
For I cannot continue any longer to hurt you by offering you my heart, my dear;
As you continue to heal and purify all my sins
While all I ever do is
corrupt
your soul and drag you in the the deepest and darkest abyss that I call
home;
Darling, I am now setting you free and breaking the chains that
restrict
you from ascending into the
limitless sky where you truly
belong, so flap you wings
and fly to your
well-being;
Goodbye.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC
"Under a Mountain of green and a Sky of blue,
Lived a race trapped behind a Barrier forgotten after so many years,
Slowly their hatred over their predicament only grew,
Lost and Forgotten, Hurt but not Broken, some wept their last tears,
They heard them say, 'It's been four years since an Angel fell',
But the wary Traveler knew not what that meant,
It was up to the race to explain to the Traveler and tell,
Of a Tale long ago Dreamt,
Tale of a sun, and of a world Beyond,
Where two races once lived in Peace,
A world where both races could bond,
Where fighting could stop, where hatred would cease,
The Traveler knew then what to do,
To free these people of their Fear and Hate,
Some wished to help the Traveler, others where hesitant to,
This Traveler - however much they faced - promised there wouldn't be anyone they'd berate,
The Barrier was a force none had broken thus far,
But this Traveler - too kind, too determined - couldn't give up,
This Barrier they broke - an obstacle they hurdled like a highset bar,
The Race rejoiced for now all where free - even Jerry and that Annoying Pup,
This Traveler - who called themselves Frisk - was no more than a child,
Yet a new Ambassador had been set,
They told any and all that the journey had not been hard but mild,
This child was greeted with a smile by whomever they met,
'A new family born,
A past left to rot,
A new treaty sworn,
A kind present this lot!'
This child thought with a smile upon their lips,
As they moved forward with their friends,
A skeleton too smiles as out of sight he blips,
'there will be time later - he thought - for the kiddo and me to make amends'."
Continue Reset
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
There was once a sheep and a dragon. The dragon loved the sheep very much, more than she loved herself, but the dragon could never express her love because she was afraid she might hurt the sheep. You see, sheep and dragons don't belong together. If the dragon were to breathe fire on the sheep's wool by accident the sheep would die. If the dragon accidentally stepped on her sheep, she would never see his handsome smiling face again, and what good would that be? So the dragon cried and cried.
Then there was the sheep. Sheep loved dragon too, but none of his sheep friends thought that he would be cool if he married a dragon. They would make fun of him, call him names and his parents would shun him. The sheep knew that the dragon could hurt him but he wasn't worried, he would wrap himself in something that wasn't flammable and he would be sure never to walk underneath the beautiful dragon. The problem was, the sheep couldn't figure out if he loved his family or Dragon more. So he went to seek help from the wise Turtle.
Turtle lived very far from sheep, but sheep thought that the walk was worth it to find out what he should do. When he arrived at Turtle's house, he was invited in for tea and Oreos. After the small snack, Sheep got right to business and he told Turtle his predicament. Turtle laughed and shook his tiny, Turtle head. "My child," Turtle said "If you really loved Dragon, everyone else's thoughts wouldn't be important. Prove to her that she matters." Sheep shook his head. Turtle hadn't solved his problem at all! "You are NO help you crazy old turtle," yelled Sheep. And he stormed out.
A day or so later Dragon went to see wise old Turtle too. She told Turtle about how she felt about sheep. Again, the wise (and now crazy) Turtle laughed. He thought that young kids didn't understand true love. "Let go of your insecurities Dragon. Sheep loves you and he accepts everything about you, he loves the fire that you breathe, even though it can burn him sometimes and he loves your big feet even though they can stomp him sometimes." The Dragon went home thinking about what Turtle had told her.
A week later Sheep and Dragon went together to see Turtle. Sheep apologized for being so rude before and said that he thought about what Turtle said and realized that he was right. Sheep loved Dragon and that was all that mattered. Dragon blushed red, like the fire she breathed. Turtle turned toward Dragon and asked her what she had learned. Dragon said she learned that even though she may be insecure about some things, she shouldn't let that get in the way of being happy with someone that she loves. Turtle laughed for that last time in this story and said, "Love is a funny thing, sometimes we don't always see what is there" with that being said, Dragon and Sheep ran away to live happily ever after.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
I know lots of girls who cut
and ask them how they do it,
for it's such a brave feat to undertake
but they say there's nothing to it.
They're not afraid of blood loss,
or ripping apart their skin,
to have this be your only escape
what predicament could they be in?
So simply think of a time when you were bad
and about the pain you deserve,
and with each precise, thin, clean cut
your guilt goes away, unheard.
And then when ****** gaps close up
and the healing's coming far,
then you'll have some company to keep
for it's now and your scars.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 12:37 PM UTC
I see birds fly
from this concrete predicament
faces in ****** hands
I hurt and I cry
my hands are wet
trapped
on Pilates plateau
a place where bugs die.
May 11, 2021
May 11, 2021 at 4:55 PM UTC
''When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary,
When troubles come and my heart burdened be,
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence
Until You come and sit awhile with me.”
<>
not hidden, for I reside in my accustomed spot,
but my face reveals a dispirited demeanor,
so most leave me alone, but not in peace,
late June, and the world less-than-august
These burdens which are weighty mighty.
are like weights in a trainer's vest,
while they can be removed,
only additions arrive, as screws
tightened to increase the threshold of
consternation and persistent pain insistent
the silenced aura within which I sit most patiently,
becomes both jailer and friend,
while I await your salvation arrival,
amidst tales of others who preceded me in this
waiting game predicament, most unsuccessfully,
admixed with stories of one or two
rewarded...
a tease, a stringy tale of hope, an endurance test,
to make my heart even more burdened be,
though wearied, yet unsuccmbed,
for I have seen you, existence verified,
and my patience knows no limits,
awaiting the cool of fall,
when the breezes bear and bare your scent,
and hints your returning presence,
changes the very meaning of
awhile
Jul 8, 2025
Jul 8, 2025 at 11:45 PM UTC
my future partner,
Hi, I’m anna. I guess we’re co-writing this chapter of our lives together. I’m sure it’ll be epic. It takes a while for me to viscerally latch onto another being, so congrats to you for stealing my heart
because if I’m with you, that probably means I really love you.
I like sushi a lot, empty bookstores, and tea sipping sessions with my cat, xiaoxiao, who you will probably hear me talk about twenty-four seven. I hope you’re a cat person.
Within the realm of the arts, I like to write poetry and play piano. But my secret hobby is photography. It’s the best way to know someone without really knowing them. And if you hurt me, I’ll probably create an entire musical composition or a playlist of poetry about it. But I’ll forgive you instantly.
I might make mistakes, too. For instance, I’m horrible with directions, remembering events, deadlines, or anything unrelated to pedantic learning. My erratic and changeable moods can be quite the predicament as well, but I promise to be as tolerable as I can be through my storms.
I’m a biomedical science major with a minor in neuroscience. Assimilating an array of medical innovations, education, and terminology is, personally, my zenith of academic interest. I have a love and longing to help others. But sometimes, moving towards this ultimate vocation is strenuous and I do hope you understand how much medicine means to me. This means late night MCAT study sessions, mountains of neuroscience books, stacks of terminology notecards, homework, and paramounts of stress.
But I want to work on that. I promise that whatever I love, I love to a seemingly boundless depth- “from the tip of my apex and beyond,” if you’re into medical puns. I promise I’ll take you out to dinner, plan cute dates, and spend as much quality time with you as I can. I promise, we’ll travel to so many places, eat all the food we can in all the countries we visit, dive in every ocean we can find, and fly over every country we can point to on a map.
Most importantly, I promise to give you reasons to continue the chapters in your book. Because I struggle with that too.
Whether it be in a month, a year, a decade, or a lifetime...
I promise to love you, see you soon
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 8:42 AM UTC
I’ve been crying a lot lately.
—
Swirling thoughts, as if they try to crush my existence. An endless staircase that leads me to nowhere but despair, despair, and another despair that greets me over and over. An unfathomable, non explainable feelings that I fail to express to others; and they only came out as faint scars. Countless voices screaming into my imaginary ears that I yearn to stop, and I deafened myself from those voices by running away to even louder voices. Something inside of me that carves the walls of my skin with a gushing, sharpened knife, but I can’t grasp the reality of that knife so I just stand there and ignore it.
The cycle of me trying to fight my painful, unexplainable misery. Even so, I couldn’t cry.
I couldn’t express all of my predicament, so I couldn’t cry.
That’s why it became a cycle. Again, again, again! I suffer, to the point I want to cut my own throat and die.
“Don’t cry. Crying means you're weak,”
those were the words that were said to me ages ago. Why do I always remember that? I think the person who said that to me already forget about it.
—
Then, when I thought all of my miseries flooded inside me, they spilled. I cry, ugly face in front of the mirror. Oh boy, when was the last time I saw those eyes, that were usually red below the pupils, wet? When was the last time I sobbed that hard?
That was the first time I sat on the public toilet,
crying.
—
“What’s wrong with crying?”
A person said that to me. A person said that people who don’t cry are the weird ones; do they not blessed with these beautiful, miraculous thing called emotions? Cry, cry, cry, because tears are ...
—
So, the cycle came back to me. Gushing thoughts hitting me madly, along with staircases that still lead me to land of despair. But now, I cry when I think of them.
I cried.
And cried.
And cried and cried and cried.
—
I’ve been crying a lot lately.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 10:40 AM UTC
Grinding....
Leaving it silenced, drawn and quartered
Clawing for the scraps left over
Predicament I found myself in
Or, towards the end of it
Slipping from the edges
Forager focused on finding any way back home
Sidetracked by some apparition left crying
Alone, in the corner
Grinding...
Paused, with rain drops weighted, heavy sense in the air
I can feel my lips turning blue and
Twitching
It's more literal than I would dare dream in a waking nightmare
The smell of every molecule tantamount to another realm
Hangs motionless in the air
The stone transposed becomes a rooftop asylum, overlooking such uncouth misanthropic parcels, self absorbed in this grotesque imagery, a veritable wall of self hate puzzle pieces
Grinding...
Low, on an almost ominous note, still grows colder in my ears
Blowing on winds filled with the spite and righteous
Anti holy
Fully rupturing sound of far off laughter of the
New root
My lips still moving
No sound produced
And my mind
Grinding...
I still pray to god for you
Beset on all sides by the same wickedness
Still afflicted by myself
Argue for arguments sake
****** up on the uptake
I thought that you might want it
I guess I forgot all the subtle ways
The fires spring to life at night
Arguably the wrong choice is
Looking at him
I try not to
Catch that glimpse in his eye
Already my mind races
And my bones are shivering
At the thought alone
Brickwork backing
Still swells maggots
And filing paperwork
For entrapment habits
Grinding
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 4:56 PM UTC
Crusty old lion
sits atop the fence,
a transient from the endless circus,
eyeing a prickly pear cactus flower.
Meditating upon its ephemeral beauty,
he asks the eternal question:
Fleeting flower of yellow and pink,
is the will to charm still there?
My son, how could I not
be charmed by your
exquisite roar, followed by
the delicate blooming of your innocence?
Then remember me that I
may remember our predicament!
- collaboration with Brian Oarr
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
Generations pass as autonomy eludes us denying us the opportunity
to reach for liberality.
Indifference, being a predecessor, digs shallow graves in so many ways,
Watching heritage that once was become something uncanny,
Unrecognizably lingering; lifeless.
Racial force fields, forces fields of incarcerated thoughts to take root,
Keeping us from seeing beyond ourselves,
and
The barriers built to keep those out,
only keep us,
from letting us, to allow others in,
and trust is placed on trial,
looking at a life sentence of death, unaware of its opportunity
to freely avail or elude it’s predicament.
If only it would appeal to the counsel of the majority.
Stubbornness sometimes refuses to embrace what we know needs to
be confronted in order to bring about change,
unifying an outside world
where life is not always fair and those around us calculate thoughts to hinder our progression.
We live in a place of democracy and disdain where street corner pharmaceuticals
****** the weary,
where adolescent girls are forced to become
teenage mothers or prostitutes,
where empty baseball diamonds and dugouts
are replaced by thick scaling barb wired walls and gray barred cells,
where young men and women trade their age multiplied for the number they will where in a system for life, and
where the sound of a crying disappointed child is exchanged for anger and abuse,
in the absence of a father or mother figure,
figuratively disfigured and lost in translation;
an abandonment of generations past.
Who will lead and guide us?
Who will plead and advocate on our behalf?
Who will stand in the gap?
Who will lead us past the captive mind to captivate hearts?
Who will provide the keys to unlock and break us free?
Free from the broken barriers that divide us?
~
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
I went into this with
eyes and thighs
wide open.
I cannot sanitise my position
My legs astride
Your waist.
I cannot analyse our predicament
I sympathise truly
With her.
But, this affair started together
both to blame
no shame.
I'm beautified by your attention
Call it love
I'm mystified.
I only know I cannot
I will not
Give up.
I'm sorry that you're married
as am I
that's life.
Or is it oversimplified lust?
just never leave
I'd vaporise.
But, before we go back
to our partners
glide inside.
Again.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
The thunder-storm of my deepest, darkest blues but at the same time my peace, my calmest of oceans.
With him my highs are complete.
my very own overdose of intoxicating substance, bought highs that's only cheap thrills,
this high can last a life time
but when the high is gone I feel all shades of blue but the lows are worth the intoxication. It's not a bond worth breaking.
how can he be my strength and weakness right at the same time?
how can the negatives and positives be entwined?
this bittersweet love, this mandarin-oranges juice that drips right on my tongue.
this pineapple juice with bits situation, this bittersweet love.
this bittersweet love, filled my plain canvas with colour, fresh wounds are open.
this colour palette of cut up feelings and emotions that gives my black and white canvas colour, love.
this bittersweet love, you're my good morning and good night,
my hello and my goodbye,
you're my random smile,
my dark knight,
the one who has my soul
you're my bus journey thought, my topic of conversation, you're my...do I look right? Do I feel right?
you're my depression,
you're my sadness
and my question why.
you're my confusion
but all my answer are found in you. You're my death trap
but you're the only one that can save me.
it's a catch 22 and that's all on you, that's the predicament you put me in but you're willing to save me, right?
you're that overdose,
that high,
this bittersweet love
The lows are worth intoxication
It's a bond not worth breaking
By Cheyanne Ntangu
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
"You're not a lot of fun to be around" she blurted
Not the first time I've heard it
I went
From being bullied to being A bully, was never meant to be permanent
You can probably guess what temperament brought more enjoyment?
So there's a solid argument to be had for it being a just verdict
But if you've never been in that predicament hold your judgmental hyperbolic rhetoric
Most folks seek out that kind of empowerment but keep it quiet, I'm just admitting it
Look, nobody's perfect but the crime has never fit my punishment
Pushed and shoved "getting back to the old me" to the back burner, against my better judgement
Cause I didn't bother with it any further, now a derelict social misfit
Then when it's my turn to take back the moment
My retort, a one and done statement;
Fck you, fck the planet and fck everyone on it
Easier to parrot that then to admit no one can stand me past the first minute
I don't know if it's the misplacement of hurt and anger, a cover for inadequate social alignment
Or a relentless deep seeded resentment for the general public
Not sure but it definitely feels organic
This old dog ain't capable of learning a new trick regardless of any enlightenment
Kinda sad isn't it?
©2024
Jan 16, 2024
Jan 16, 2024 at 6:30 PM UTC
Ajoke, daughter of moremi,
Beauty is a predicament in your lineage,
Your beauty bring out star at night,
Stars even told the Wisemen about it.
The beauty that runs in your blood,
Mama kola makes a lot of profit at dawn,
When men gathered to drink and speak of
Your beauty.
Each making a bet to have you.
Ajoke, your ęwa(beauty) is angelic,
Your tiny voice is mellific,
Your dimples is intoxicatic,
Your ostrich legs so charismatic.
But your beauty is delusive,
Think not that a derisive,
I must be Ilucinating!
Stop appearing in my dreams,
Come to my reality!
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 9:22 AM UTC
when i'm drinking i always think
the whiskey bottle
to be in a predicament
of the bus stop;
i mean, waiting, for my
eager slurp (god i wish
i could insert an onomatopoeia
right now) -
i ate that body part and even
nozzled it, i mean
i stuck my nose in it
being ripe... you better have
sunday's news to let me forget;
i swear, performing oral
*** on women's genitalia
makes you into an orator...
or perhaps a gardener -
that skin fold sure as **** speaks!
well, better testimony than
abraham circumcising isaac
against holy ordained orders
not to; but then the cat and dog
doing overt-masturbation licking
the **** thing;
yes darling... pooch pooch ouch ooh
now chow ready for a pampering?
munch a moo choo cha cha wee wee?
yeah, get that slobbering *****
filler out of here;
oi! bring bang the blonde comb-over ferret!
i ain't doing the spider dangle
without it!
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 8:14 PM UTC
Be it Song, or Bile, or Predicament
The Way you carry your Fortunes are Good
Try to Lend some Hands; Then you would relent
How many you missed in your Neighbourhood
Photos alone do not Memories make;
Nor Lone Medals hung to promote your Fame
But that - within YOU - which Dad has long-taught
Was always the Nature etched on your Name
And the Name that Was, Is, and Forevermore
Beyond the Skin tattooed with Thoughts demure
He is the HERO; Real, and to the Core,
Promises Divine in Friendship so Pure.
You are more than you know. And always has been
That Light from the Sun is dug from Within.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
Puddles form
around our feet,
rain falls relentlessly.
Water drums
a staccato rhythm,
keeping a beat
of its own accord.
Streetlights bravely fight
against the deluge,
mustering a translucent glow.
Alone we stand,
laughing at our
predicament.
No umbrella, no coats...
no reprieve.
The torrent washes
over us.
Soaked to the skin,
warmth is shared
by a kiss
in the storm.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
As I was sitting at my desk studying for finals,
I heard in the distance the sound of a Clown's Horn?
"honk-honk" the sound grew louder and closer "honk-honk"
Fairly certain the Circus had not come to my Apt. complex,
Bested by my curiosity as it continually increased
My need to discover the horn's origin became the priority over my studies.
My focus shifted from the page in front of me holding all the answers,
To the outside world were the answers where yet to be discovered...
Breaking free of my "Study Shackles"
A new goal to precedence over all obstacles,
Mind now on a single track,
The spirit of pioneer steers my intentions,
Set forth from my dwelling, into that vast universe of possibility's
That simpletons refer to as the parking lot.
Honk-Honk the sound hit my ears like a search beacon would register on radar,
How far past my car or 100 cars who cares
What was this I continued to ponder in the recesses of mind that was playing like it was recess
Placing a collect call to myself I called my other senses to man their positions.
Sight-CHECK! but nothing was seen,
Touch-CHECK! but my feet and the ground was the only contact being made.
Smell-CHECK! But nothing, wait hold for confirmation....
Could it be... ELOTE!?!
Corn on the cob... on the stick!!
Mexican style elote!!
I had not enjoyed, "G-lote or Getto Elote" since San Jose
Since the last time I spent time with cousin Chip
Then just as I turned the corner the beacon sounded once more
"Honk-Honk" ELOTE....! and it was only $1.50 Perfect!
Proceeded to purchase two, one for me and one for you,
My cousin my brother...
Devouring mine with you in mind,
Took a single breath took stock of what was left,
Thought, "If I wait for Chip to come eat his it will get cold before he arrives, and who wants to eat cold elote?
Not my Cousin Chip, He's a Gracia
We are just better then that.
So I did what I believe you would have done for me if you where to find yourself in the same predicament,
I ate it nice and slow.
Thinking about how grateful I am to call you my family, my cousin, my friend, my brother,
I made sure that I enjoyed every bite,
In that for a moment no matter how brief it actually was we where together again,
In my minds eye laughing, joking, enjoying elote together....
I love you and I miss you cousin,
You are always in my prayers and in my heart.
If only Australia were not so far away...
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 4:26 AM UTC