Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
It just ain’t right to be doing
Such nasty things to me
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
What did I do to your story
To deserve this business from you
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
This here ain’t the first time
I’ve wrastled with your jelly bean
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
I can’t handle no more
Of your stealing time of mine
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
I’ve got a long way
To be headin’ along today
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
So I need your backdoor business
To leave it alone
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
Or I wont be headed back again
Tag: coffee
It Hurt
Today’s coffee reminds me of the day
I ripped a six inch long
one inch deep hole into
the back of my leg.
Thirteen years old,
maybe I was fourteen
at my best friends father’s shop
he worked a lot with cement
and had a big yard
with mounds of gravel
we’d go up and down and around
on our new single track bikes.
It hurt
it hurts
and memories are always there
to bring me away
and back
to where some memories hurt
but ripping the hole
didn’t really hurt
flesh wounds are like that.
Sound/Vision
Who are you?
What is your sound/vision?
What guides your call?
Deep gulps of morning coffee
Flickering sounds
An empty wall
With little splash marks
Years of service gone by.
This pen fades
The more I write,
Like fallen leaves
Into enrichened soil
Rhythms have lost my voice
Telling me of better days.
Unattended Fire
I’m hijacking emotional waves
Leaving the strong winds
For cracked nuts
And a fire, unattended.
My teeth hurt
And my coffee’s gone cold
– Toxic lush
Even when hot.
A game, I’m gone
Struck me on the shoulder
But hoping for an open minded Lady
Who gave a wrinkled
Promiscuously acquired
Five dollar bill
To a tourist fear trap
Like a Merry Christmas card
Unsigned.
But I’m gone
With hotel room vibes
Blinking lethargically
Stuck in deeper thoughts
That have taken me
Deep inside
This unattended fire,
Waiting for a spark to arise
Within me
Like Cupid’s golden arrow.
Morning Drawl
Slow drawl of a morning
Crinkling paper
And ever building list
Of tasks I wanted to remember
Last night
Trickling in
As my coffee
Trickles down
Bamboo lined pour over
Where my awaiting mug,
Earth tones of pottery,
Catches the mud
My memory unearths.
Early Morning Hour
In the early morning hour
Wind seems to lay down
Rising sun sets out to warm
Every frosty blade of grass
And when my horse is saddled up
I mount my trusty steed to roam
Every bit of our home range
To find my cows and learn the land
For my life I’m setting out
Warm coffee in the morning
Another day to go about
In this early morning hour.
Eavesdropping (day 2757)
Butterfly moments
Give the Gossip Queen
Her alibi
Restlessly involving
Carnations
Eavesdropping on
Clouded repercussions
That lay awaiting
In a warm cup of coffee
Steaming
Twice Today (day 2699)
She ran away to be
Lost in another land
For there she could always get
Coffee in a little cup
The foreign men whistled
In a sweet way
That always made her blush
And in her wallet
My once dear photo
Faded away to dust
And as she ordered
Another coffee
She asked in her foreign tongue
“Have you seen
Any good plays
Any thing going on?”
To which the kind man
Smiled at her
Asked her twice her name.
What You Do To Me (day 2554)
I am not the innocence you thought me to be
I’m scarred and torn from the inside out
Been held down and held out and held you in my hand
And I’m not sorry I ever let you in.
See, I’m a Tuesday in a Wednesday dress
Walking slowly with an elegant step
That sings songs of bygone;
A ministry of typewriters click-clacking away,
Mindfully absent, worrying about another day
That’s long past the next Prime Minister’s term.
I spill coffee in my hands to smell the beans,
Leaving a thorough understanding
Of what you do to me.
Though I leave my open door ajar,
I walk past and sing my song.
Aroma in a Window (day 2533)
My window looks out
Lost deep into thought.
Two strings I had to pull
Let go their fray
Unwind I went along the walk
River and then back
Which brought me to a stranger who
Said I had two letters of mail
Being symbolic of my thoughts,
Left me on the precipice
Until my coffee had arrived
And aroma filled the air.