Polly had a delicate situation
Was zinged by a witch last spring
Which engendered a condition which did cling:
On Tuesdays she was a girl
Who liked scented candles and flowers
And stickers of dragons with magical powers
On Mondays and Wednesdays she was a boy
Who loved dirt bike racing & spicy bok-choy
Thursdays she was a socialist vegan
Fridays a long armed gibbon
And on Saturdays she became, to the chagrin & horror
Of her pets and paramour
A Tea Parti colored Republican!

Script

Zoom zoom goes the car with drug dealers

Being chased by the cops in a spotted deal

The exchange was spotted by the police

Who gave chase six shooters drawn

Firing at the fleeing BMW that sped away

Bullets zinged into it others were fired back

It was a right cowboys and Indians time

Just like a movie film with John Wayne

Who will win the cops or dealers?

It’s just like a films script but real

the years pile up gently
as snow upon snow pile up
on snow laden ground.
you wake up one morning
still with sleepy eyes
to see the view from your window
still the same
yet somewhat changed
from the landscape you saw before you went to bed last night.

you jog your head,
to drive away
the lingering laziness in your bones,
smiling at a half remembered dream
where you were flying through the sky
dodging the telephone and electrical wires
that crisscrossed the path of your flight,
and whispered a silent prayer,

you get up your bed.
reaching out with heavy limbs
to the pair of sandals
lying on the floor
and trudge out of your cozy room.

you look at the mirror
(at a landscape still unfamiliar?)
and frown
(or smile?)
at some added lines
creasing the sides of your eyes:
a view more subtly changed!

a year is gone,
another is on the run.
count your life if you may
in ages
old traditional way
but, mark it off proudly
with words:

painful, prayerful, purposeful,
incisive, iniquitous, imperial,
eclectic, electric, effervescent,
dolorous,  delirious, devious,
singular, simple, (sinful?),
frenzied, frivolous, feral,
tepid, tremulous, turbulent,
ludicrous, libidinous, lugubrious,
zany, zennish, zinged,
barbaric, beatific, bucolic,
and so on and so forth.

words that are sensual, soulful, spiritual,
     that moved your heart ,
     that moved our hearts.

words to remember you by.

be happy.
feel blessed.
it is your birthday!

Manufactured individualism
Quickly assimilated into societies and cultures
Conditioned to salivate uncontrollably
Whenever marketeers ring their bells;
And the conglomerates ring their hands,
Anticipating chaching, kachinging cash registers
And the ecstasy of zinged credit,
As their manipulations percolate
Through the media-saturated masses, moping
Susceptible to provocation of whims
Due to implanted inadequacies.
The child, youth - by extension, parent;
The socially inept, unconforming conformists,
All fall under the svengali-spjaller's dulcet nagging -  
To Buy! Buy! See you next Tuesday, Suckers!

A time forgotten
Because we went separate ways.
Caution i have now
Did you intend for me to be
     Cautious?
Everywhere I go I get a feeling of
Fear. Not because of the wrong but
           Because of being hurt.
God! You still
Have me
In your grip.
Juggling these feelings that still                  
        remain.
Kite flying these feelings.
Longing to be rid of these feelings.
Moments turn to days.
Nothing is helping.
Oh!!
Perhaps i should go? Or maybe
Question myself? as to why i still          
     Think of you.
Registering that it is time to go.
So i drop that rose you made in the
Trash.
Under the sadness of letting go is
      Sense of
Victory.
Watching it land no more
Xoxo's
You are no longer there in my
   Mind. Because we never
Zinged.

We sat in deck chairs, our feet entrenched in the sand,
as the water crept up the shore
and splashed gently on our toy sailboats.
The fire pit roared and rose with flames
under the moonlight. Our friendship was anchored
in the beach for years, since second grade.
I kept watch on your sailboat,
knowing it would soon cast out into the sea of adulthood.
We spent hours talking about our dreams,
as though the sandman truly existed
apart from
our imagination.

Remember when we dropped our textbooks in the trash compactor?
Because we believed in the Lost Generation and The Beats, and not some phonies from academia.  
We even sprinted away from the security guards after we used our slingshots and shot rocks at the The Verizon Center's Marquee.

Smoke and drink.
Smoke and drink.
Smoke and drink.

We lounged in the dugout while the sky poured buckets of rain on the baseball diamond, as our lighters ran out of fluid.

*

By accident, you shot me in the mouth with an air-soft gun. The beady plastic pellet zinged through the air, and sawed off half of my front tooth. Frantically, you sprinted inside and came back out with a glass of whole milk. You snagged the chipped up tooth from the lush lawn, and dropped it into glass. The tooth got swallowed up by the milk, leaving a trace of ripples.

But you had pure intentions, only lukewarm aim. On a porch chair, I sat bent over with my upper lip bundled with wet paper towels. There was no blood, no flesh wound; just a clean shot. I dabbed my tender gum gently with the damp towel.

You walked up to me and slapped me on the back. I shook my head, rolled the towel into a paper *** and chucked it at your nose.

You caught the projectile in mid-air and threw the afternoon’s remnants over the pointy picket fence. You turned around and saw my back, as I walked on the neighborhood sidewalk away from your house.

Ten years later, in the summer of 2007, we stretched out our limbs on Rehoboth beach and smoked headies out of a papier-mâché-looking piece; we called her Old Glory. As we toked and held in the gray coughs, we took in the view. Small waves barreled over and flattened out onto the fine sand shore. Our toes were tangled in the snare of the ivy green seaweed.

We didn’t want to let go of this.

This picture frame memory, the wooden frame lacquered with fresh pine comb.

A peace pipe shared between each other to rekindle their friendship. I stared at the bright fire of the lighter, watching as red sparks turn into violent black. Light gray debris collected on my swim trunks. We both looked up at the starless sky, as if we were searching for twilight. The moon glow shrunk the longer an eyeball looks, you said.

I nodded, got up, and walked right into a tall wave. I took the full force of the water, standing my ground with a bird’s nest chest. You laughed and lolled your head back off; you were exhausted.
I walked back up the hilly shore, and treaded my finger along the ridges of my ceramic tooth. A replica embedded in my mouth. I felt the jagged edges, the flaws, and grinned a little.

Just enough, to feel like I was on the verge of epiphany, on the beginning of seeking out the correct approach of life.

We hit the piece again. And the sun began to rise.
Our eyes closed, breaths quiet, and our memories entwined
for days to come.

A,B,C,D,E,F,G
Gathering thoughts that you gave to me am at lost for words its the smell of defeat .
H,I,J,K,L,M,N,O,P
Pouring out my heart leaving nothing behind, dehydration calling it a crime .
Q,R,S
Starving , craving love, can't keep holding on am not his spouse
T,U,V
Voicing my opinion but no one can hear
W,X,Y,Z
Zing , thought we zinged really thought we did but am here with a broken heart no hope no trust no love just tears..

#NanaJ