Tag: chore

Deepening

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You wore your hair on an unwritten novel
That was bound with your daily drawl
Mixed among the thunderstorms
Of a lonely prairie home.
Cows were milked twice a day
And dust blew into your eyes
Leaving streaks running diagonal
Across your rosy cheeks
With an agonizing look
You had long put on
Prepared for deepening silence.

A memory was your novel
That got caught up finding new verbs
For the same things you’d always done
And your hands that worked
In daily grind
With suds and lemonade
Looked increasingly like
They were forming to the job.

Why did you watch the horizon
Each day around two or three?
As dust had settled from morning’s fury
“In time for tea,” you’d say,
The milk cow, knowing nothing more
Chewed and watched you at your chore
No thought did cross it’s mind.

So sad did the lesson grow
A mind lost of ten thousand reasons
Thunderstorm in Sun’s sweet blessing
If it was not you, save pray for more
So today will sing of tomorrow
A song you knew intuitively
As cow’s milk begun to pour
And dust blew through your hair.

Life That (day 1231)

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This isn’t my coming out chant
This isn’t my remember the good ol’ days rap
No, this isn’t the kind of shit you’d expect from me
Where soft glow combines with a real desire
Spreading out like wings

No, this is a truth experiment
This is raw discussion
Morphine true-isms
Blisters spreading about the exposé
Peeling back: non-relent

You see, nothing’s been hard
No part of life’s been a chore
There’s never a day gone by
When I’ve been forced to stare at the walls
So uncomfortably spread that rot is my vice

There’s a dollar sign around my halo
With uncomfortable silence when bills drop on bills
There’s a memo on my desk
Reminding me to keep track of the present

This all fails to phase me
Rolling around in steel balls that shatters silently
When haters start slinging their gorilla lyrics
Hiding in my deepen’d billfold
And there’s glass, there’s glass scraping little lines
Across my weather strengthened back

Yet, I’m not your typical chump
Squealing my daddies gold in rubber exhaust
I’m a hustler crushing pimp
Not a player pickin’ easy cherries
Playing a role, playin a mother fuckin role
Buying into a toll booth
That flips my hard edge into
Magnified chocolates and fluffed pillows
And a silk god damn flower

I take opportunities in the present
The big rolls that die hard
Rise and fall, and rise again
It’s my game, I take two dollars
Exchange them into five
Because I’ve been bred well
Learned from the best
I’ve taken one-two-three strategy
Added on my own strong fourth

Funny thing about this mastery
Is the only competition I find
Comes out from where the wolves hide
From the silent arch ways
That reach out and bite when you turn your back and hide
I fight it, with intelligence…
With awareness and exposition

Omnipresence is not a myth
Omnipresence manhandles the unaware
Blissfully slouching at the solid wood table

Paper Route & Pig Tails (day 731)

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I woke as I usually did
Tightened up my roller blades
And went about my route
Delivering papers
That was my chore
I was an older paper boy
Paper man if you will
We had exchanged glances
On and off regularly
She fancied my roller blades
7016 at the top of the hill
She was a young retired skater
Whose quirkiness attracted me
We started to talk
More as the days went by
I got to know her
Comfortable in her ways
She was interested
In a twenty something year old paper man
Not much older herself
It wasn’t my only job
It was a side thing for sure
But it was what it was
Which brought me to her
We flirted, why not?
Enjoying it immensely
But the professional I am
I had a route to deliver!

I remember one time
She asked me to help her with her hair
She had fascinating clamps
To hold her hair in there
They were clips
That were held with bolts
Needing to be tightened
Her hair was parted down the middle
Strictly, thin hair
Cut a few inches above her shoulders
Dyed, always a new catchy colour
Two short and cute pig tails
Which she spun in towards themselves
In an upside down heart
Then up the middle
Were they were clamped into place
Contact is a beautiful thing
A heart racing against my heart
I felt it, she felt it

She invited me over one day
She was aggressive like that
Which explains why she was
So comfortable topless
I was shy, what do you do?
I’m not used to that
Try to fit in, just act casual
Tea was on the menu
I like mine with sugar
We talked and flirted
An old china cup was delivered
Her house smelled like lilacs
She was pure coconut with passion
Dancing about the room
Graceful steps was dancing to me
Telling me of stories she had once lived
I leafed through the books on her shelf
Many I had read, bookworm I am
I was in a corner
Trapped without chains
She wandered over to me
She was topless, of course
Big black panties
The kind that come up past a bellybutton
But, underneath them she had on a thong
As she wandered over to me
She was fumbling in them
Head cranked around, hands all jumbled up
Confusion on her face
With me watching unashamed
She turned around
And pushed her bum into my crotch
It was more like her bum
Into my thighs
She was a shorter, fiery girl
Fumbling with her thong
Acutely pointing her bum
And asked me if I could help her
Straighten out her panty line

There is something about that first moment
When your hand touches the skin of a lover
Especially around their hips… a soft stomach
Something magically innocent in those moments
Enough to erupt a thousand spitting volcanoes
And tingle the tips of toes with an excited sensation
Quivering the knees while reaching out for more

Yuletide (day 215)

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The holidays
Yuletide care
Bring out the charm
Loved ones dare
Attention is given
Toward the presents
And all but forgotten
The meaning of giving
It’s not a chore
To rid of at last
It’s a thought, a need
That is filled in with love
We remember not thoughts
But a burden of debt
A propagation of lust
A desire we’ve been told
Lets grow our own hearts
To a size of a tree
Lets share our time
With the ones that we love