NaPoWriMo Day 22: Poop

Today’s prompt said to write a poem for children. As a child, I wish we talked more about poop. Not because I’m a juvenile boy (only at heart) but because there’s so much embarrassment around such an important function of our bodies. In India, the first thing the doctor asks you is about your poop. Because it tells a lot about your overall health; how well you digest food, assimilate nutrients and rid your body of waste.

The number one selling over the counter drug in Amurrica is laxatives. We’re all full of shit over here. Puritan shame, shit shame, shame on that shit! We’re all human. As my dad once told me, Don’t be arrogant, who you think you, you shit ice cream?!? No. Just rainbows and malteses mostly. If you’re easily grossed out and aren’t at peace with your poop, don’t read this (#disclaimer).

Poop, poop, poop,
stop acting like a goop.
You’re so antsy and chirping,
looking green and burping,
You sure you don’t gotta poop?

Maybe you got bubble guts
go ahead crack them futs,
No sked um let um rip,
if I smell it I no give you lip,

I know what you go through
after every meal we all do!
All your squirming cannot hide
all the poop waiting inside.

Every fart recital
I think it’s very vital!
Eating, digesting, it’s a partayyy
Do something good for your bod-aayyyyy

and poop.

lol my fave emoji

NaPoWriMo Day 21: Meant to Shine

MEANT TO SHINE

So like there’s the same choreography,
the same words in a speech,
as many instagram filters available to all,
same editions of the thesaurus,
the classic organs like liver, kidney and heart,
but such great variance
of the dance,
the orator,
the fan base,
the poetry,
the body.

The flow in every tree and person
rises in accordance to a rhythm of peace,
self-correcting,
a final edit always underway
for the universe’s masterpiece.

“Everyone carries the mark of God in their own way, but we all carry that divine mark as one… Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

— Marianne Williamson

 

NaPoWriMo Day 20

PUBERTY/REBIRTH

Oh phantom boob pain.

Reminds me of puberty.

Cells aching for light.

NaPoWriMo Day 17: LONELY

LONELY

Mie, I’m going to be so lonesome
without you
when you go to college.
But I know you’re going off
so you’ll be a smart girl.
So I’m not so sad.

Aunty, I’m still so lonesome
since you went off to heaven.
But I know you went off
to have a feast
with the saints
where you eat with the appetite
of a full and generous heart,
where “farewell”
does not translate into any language
we know here.
I know you toast to us
here on earth,
drinking the nectar the butterflies know,
all the sweetness,
we felt we lost
once you left our earth.

Aunty, I’m still so lonesome
since you went off to Heaven.
But I know you keep time
with the pulse of my joy
and the drum of my sorrow
and conduct from above
my destiny’s progression.

So I’m not so sad.
I just miss you
in every song.

My aunty really loved Easter (coming up soon!) and Peeps 🙂

NaPoWriMo Day 15: What Were You?

So I may have to do two poems. One for yesterday and one for today. Because yesterday I was doing my national duty of watching a singing competition where you vote based on how carried away you get by silly-poignant (range y’all it’s not just a vocal thing) backstories of everyday Amurrricans.

Or there may just be one poem today and I’ll be forever behind on this NaPoWriMo thing. I DON’T KNOW I JUST FEEL LIKE AN OBNOXIOUS YOUTH. WHO WANTS TO USE CAPS ALL THE TIME FOR NO REASON EXCEPT WHATCHA GON DO ABOUT IT. I BLAME THE MOON.

WHAT WERE YOU?

I am passionate
and obsessive.
They’re like the two channels
I flick between
during commercials.
Back and forth so much
I forget what I’m really watching,
and think maybe both programs
are just that boring
and repetitive.

~~~~

I obsess over what
we all could have been
in our past lives.

I think I was Russian
probably a peasant.
Don’t ask me how I know this.
I just read about them in history
and tasted beets
and sweat.

I also believe
I was some kind of hick.
Because I love country music
for no reason whatsoever
and am oddly not ashamed.

What were we?
What are we?
Does it matter?
These hallucinating echoes
of karma, memory and desire.
Maybe I’m just me.
What would I do then?!?

***thinking of Thich Nhat Hanh’s poem “Call Me By my True Names.” If I were you — hehe! — I’d read it. SO GOOD. OMG.***

like, if the blood moon were a cranberry donut.

 

NaPoWriMo Day 14: MOM!

Happy birthday to my mama! I love my mom. I’m so grateful I have a built-in friend for life, a trusted source for endless inspiration and honesty (brutal and loving in the Mom way!), and an infinite cosmic connection with her spirit! (FYI: if someone is close to you in this lifetime, you better get used to them. Because they’ll be in next ones to help you learn spiritual lessons here in the physical plane)

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt said to write a poem of all questions. 20 questions and the last sentence is NOT a question. Interesting!

DEAR MOM
(HAPPY BIRTHDAY!)

Did you always know how to love?
How does it not hurt?
Did I learn by imitating you or is it innate?
From being of you?
What is your worst fear?
What story matters most to you?
Is it a story from your parents?
Is it a story we’ve helped you tell?
Which is better chocolate or red velvet?
What is your most precious gift?
Why do we blame Mom first?
Is it because we know moms know everything?
How do you know everything?
Do you ever lie?
Are we going to eat soon?
Do you believe in regrets?
How am I different from my sister?
How much are we like you?
Is destiny something out of our control?
Were you destined to be our mom?
I wish you knew how little these answers
mean to me
when I look in the dancing stillness
of your eyes
where love flows first.

nothing’s changed

 

 

 

Day 12 NaPoWriMo: WHY WE LAUGH

I’m writing about laughter! I laugh (slash snort because I’m such a lady). So therefore it’s not immune to my psycho-analyzing it. Or poetry-izing it. Also I’m writing about laughter cuz I’m going to the clubbbbbb tonight. So many laughs to be had there right? LOL.

WHY WE LAUGH

They say You laugh to keep from crying,

and while that’s true,

like survival is a truth

that is lived until you die,

laughing is actually

crying that has been pruned

and ripened into joy.

Bitter fruit

is still fruit

after all.

NaPoWriMo Day 11

RUPAUL’S DRAG RACE

I fucken love it;

I learned to be a lady

from boys dressed as girls.

THE ULTIMATE

NaPoWriMo Day 10: FACES

All this poetry is so much fun. Almost as fun as face-reading. It’s like palm reading but with faces (duh haha). Did you know that Khloe Kardashian has the stolen-spouse mole? OMG. Tabloid realness. I guess there are worse things. Like the psychotic mole. I think that one’s by the ear, and a little conspicuous to uncover. Anyway. YAY DAY 10!

FACES

I have a thing for faces.
They make public transportation
my preferred mode of travel.

On the subway, some people play
freeze tag with their faces–
meaning they avoid eye contact
at all costs.

Other riders dare
to spotlight their eyes
into yours
and smile.
It feels like finding love
among the ruins.

Ever since I read this book
called The Art of Face Reading
that claimed “what is in the heart
reads on the face,”
I make it a point
to sit next to strangers
who have tenderness in their eyes
or faithfulness in their temples.

On the bus sometimes
it’s hard to resist the urge
to tell the mother of two
she has a wealth mole,
so her children can afford
to dream big.

I want to warn the elderly man
with the hooded eyes
to make peace
with the empire of his lost childhood.
Sick man of Europe.

I myself have a good wife nose.
My Pinnochio secret
because I don’t believe in marriage.

I love seeing all the different faces,
~the kaleidoscope of eyes, noses, ears, foreheads~
creating a design
of emotions in confession.

let’s analyze her face! Art History 101. Annnnd, go. haha