"waitressing" poems
she was a single mother,
mother of three,
children had no father figure
all of them had to grow up trying
to figure out what father means to them.
she was tired of men whistling and tripping
over her big behind.
see, she held on her hands a university degree
seems her life was stuck on day volunteering
and night waitressing.
all she ever wanted was a man who would
sweep her off her feet and be a leader to her
kids.
no luck, all she ever met were **********
pimps and hustler all who had the intention
to bust a nut on her.
so the black unicorn sang, mama i need
your prayers, mama i need God's hands.
pray for me again, again and again.
night light's light shines too bright on
these electricity bills and the landlord
dont even care how she feel.
said, "if you laid on this table any time for me, you
wont need to worry about the rent, boo"
so she did it.
every time he touched her, he ripped off
parts of her spirit.
so the black unicorn sang, in jazz clubs while
the kids stayed with grandma. she sang
a piece of mind just to get a peace of mind.
she was tired of being told she was beautiful
because every finger laid on her was a **** you
to her beautiful skin, queen.
she was tired of "im not ready","its not you, its me".
she was tired of wearing her heart on her sleeve.
The Black Unicorn still sings.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
Waitressing at work today
a guy came in
**** looking, tough guy
kind of like he never grew up
but he had the cutest
shy smile
when i miscounted his change
and left me a generous tip.
I like stuff like that.
I like people like him.
I hope he liked me too.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
*
It was a complete mess.
Loads and loads of things,
From soiled hosiery to paper cups
From books to each piece of clothing I ever had
Were thrown everywhere around in the room.
The whole place looked robbed.
Cleaning the room and keeping things in order
Was never my responsibility.
It was hers.
She would nag about it all the time.
She would ask
What I’d do without her.
This was the one question I never wanted to know the answer.
May be that was why,
I was reluctant to clean the place.
Deep down, I believed,
If I waited long enough,
She would figure I could not manage without her
And she would come back
And clean up the mess.
But weeks had gone,
I still had no clue about her whereabouts.
Why would she do that to me?
I was the love of her life.
“Enough is enough.
I am going to clean this mess.
I don’t need her.”
Enraged, I decided to start with books.
Books were the second best thing in my life.
They’d keep my company always.
Then I saw the book, which she bought me
When we moved to the countryside.
As I picked that book,
A small turquoise-y peacock feather fell.
The falling feather brought to me
A series of memories-
A mix of sad and happy moments with her.
After we moved here, we went to a park
In hope, it would cheer me up.
And it did cheer me up.
We played, we laughed.
At a distance, there was a peacock,
Boasting its colourful feathers.
I’d never seen a peacock before.
Amazed, I found a feather it had left behind.
Which I insisted to keep.
She placed it in the book
We just bought.
I still tremble sometimes,
When sights of my drunkard father beating her cross my mind.
He would abuse her and do sick things to her,
Still she would say he was my father
And I ought to respect him.
How could I?
And one time, he beat me.
He beat me with a belt
Because she bought a ‘stupid’ book for me
Instead of a bottle of bear.
That was the last time
I’d seen him.
She decided we would move away
Without any second thoughts.
“You’re meant for great things.”
She would always say.
She did odd jobs,
Tailoring, waitressing, private tutoring,
So that we could manage my school bills, rent
And square meals a day,
Probably ignoring health and physical wellness.
She sacrificed everything for me.
When she’d me, she left her job to look after me.
After we moved here,
Things were supposedly normal.
But she was going great troubles
To make ends meet,
With a smile on her face, she kept going.
At that instant, I knew she would never leave me.
She was still watching me,
Probably telling the stars
About her 'childish' son.
“I will make you proud.”
I promised to my Mom, my hero.
… And I am still trying.
*
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
He touched me and I said,
“Lock it up, dear
lay off my skillet, *****
I’m running wild fire, anyways,
You know nothing about the smell of burning lilies,
You know nothing of me
I like your winks but only because
the way the lighting frames your face
so beat it solo
and face the clouds alone.”
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 12:47 PM UTC
One has a population of 1,700,00
The other 2,000 locals,
swelling to 10,000
come the summer people,
the likes of him,
and noisy day trippers,
neither like
both born and bred on their respective islands
he locks his car always,
when and where ever
where ever is
mostly,
she leaves her keys
in the ignition
especially when
she leaves
the car running
on the street,
when doing quick errands
both are life long islanders,
that from time to time come
avisiting each other's home plate
at night,
he just locks the doors
but once,
no deadbolt,
a sign he is cool
on her countrified territory
her house door has a lock,
but no one knows the
key's exact whereabouts
going on,
as long as she can remember,
which is most of
her twenty years total
he lives in a tall apartment building
on a finger shape island that probably has
10,000 tourists arriving daily
she from an irregular shaped isle,
twenty five miles as the osprey flies,
and they do,
hers, nestled tween two forks,
and ferry's connecting you to the
"off island" till about 1:00am running,
after that, well, find a beach...
she, in a house,
outback,
behind the
country-package-store-deli
where the
most expensive gas on the island
for sale to touring folk
on the island's main gig highway
that store where
only the localest of locals
come in for
to buy their beer,
and the lost tourist,
looking for free directions
pays for them with expensive gasoline
he has one job
she has three
when not waitressing at Sweet Tomato,
she's planting flowers for the landscapers,
or working the counter at said store
she was prom queen
he did not go to his prom some 45 years ago
Two islands, two people,
one ancient, even borderline old,
one a student studying
modern farm management,
with the future openness of youth,
who won't take down college loans,
the other,
edging closer to his distinct extinction
but they talk for hours,
and he tips her more
than the cost of his meal
and the bottle of Pinot Grigio,
which loosened his tongue,
on a Friday eve
having traveled almost
four ungourmet hours,
to get to the island
he borrows from her,
in the summer time
and two days later,
one is encapsulating
the memory of the meet,
on an island of poetry
and he thinks he will go back
to conversation continue,
but that first meet
well, no repeat,
so he leaves
it's taste
here
for you to share
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
Disgraceful,
I'm against the course of what is right
and what's wrong.
I see day by day
as something to ride along.
I know a future should be present
and a goal can be set,
but when I'm back into school
My mind just resets.
Every day with no cause
all information retrieved
I suddenly lost.
All the inspiration within
does come with a cost.
Another waitressing job
In a town that's forgot.
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC
Pull up
Parking lot
30 minutes early
Feels like a lot.
A/C doesn't work
Smoke up for nerves
Not the wacky tobaccy
That's just absurd.
Job interview
Clan of the waitressing brood
Make me one of you.
I know how to take orders
And bring out your food.
Take the phone out of my hands
Give my some daily plans
Make my unemployment take a stand.
Save my bank account from blanking
It's not much that I'm asking.
Use the waiting game to plan a conversation
Give me a purpose in this great nation
I have plenty of patience
Unruly folks and their aggrivation.
Waiting on fries and I can shake it.
I spend too much time being white bred.
Clearer head with smokey resolve
Grip my hand and don't do it gently now
Let's them know you mean business
Don't show desperation just to be a waitress.
Give a smile
A joke or two
Don't make me wait
To be one of you.
Ps- if you were curious enough to know
I got the job
And soon I'll have money to show
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
So tenderly
(Each touch)
THE WORD
•
Soon.......soon.............soon
SOON WHAT?
-------
We know
•••••
The greatest job gains for women college graduates last year
Was in WAITRESSING!
••
Look!
A vagabond wanders down from the hills
LISTEN!
to whatever it is he has to say!
-------
Oh so tenderly
THE WORD
drifting
(Silent)
Thru the fields
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
About animals, abortion, and abilities
About bouquets, Buddhism, and bilious people.
About cats, cars, and caring about others.
About depression, death, and the process of dying.
About eating disorders, evil step-mothers, and ecstasy.
About fattiness, fear(s), and the trait of being friendly.
About goats, ghosts, and greetings in different countries.
About happiness, healthy diets, and humanitarian rights.
About intimacy, icicles, and igloos.
About jack-in-the-boxes, the juvenile system, and justified ******
About kindness, kissing, and kitties.
About love, living, and ladies.
About moms, mediocrity, and medicine.
About no meaning no, feeling naked, and nature.
About ovulation, October, and court orders.
About periods, peskiness, and perverts.
About quirks, queerness, and qualifying for college.
About **** razors, and reading.
About *** Sudafed, and scandals.
About taxi drivers, tables and what they hold, along with thoughts
About UW-Madison, unfortunate circumstances, and unemployment.
About vehicles, valuable objects, and violence.
About waistlines, waitressing, and what a waste of time homework is.
About xylophones, xanax, and xanthous.
About you, younglings, and yellow flowers.
About zoos, zanies, and zaps.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC