Happy Friday! I hope that you are all having an amazing day and that your worth has not gone unnoticed to you!
-Always, TenaciousM
Apr11
Category Archives: TenaciousM Thoughts
Mar26
ODE TO T.Z.
This is a poem for sad women.
It belongs to that ubiquitous, yet peculiar sect of
women who are destined to lack necessary
qualities which reap lives of gaiety and
terminal bliss.
Those who nurtured us should have warned
that women of talent encounter
ice walls which melt only for coquettish smiles.
At best, we could have known to conceal
our natural resources.
Mar24
NINA’S PEDICURE
I let the nails grow and petrify
over the toes of an old lady.
Nina, whom I love to care for
says it takes podiatry now.
Using water will clean the tool
but cannot sharpen.
That takes metal-hard strength.
Water seams weak to me,
yet it is strong enough to soften and
make a file unneeded.
Her skin has wrinkled so it must be ready.
The water proves itself and
erodes neglect that stiffens nature.
Smoothes aging lines that go deep
like basement rock
Boars through without fizz or drill
And lets me trim and buff and
Polish eight – blood red.
I leave the big toes clean to see my work
And gain some balance.
Mar24
Word Jones
Most writers will relate to the compulsion that can occur when you are writing. It can be ceaseless, day or night, you think of a line and have to write it down before the idea escapes you. It’s our addiction of sorts…
Word Jones
Nose open inhaling time
Your head and hands make contact and
Ignite the smoking mind
With a need
You deal a line to whomever wants a hit
Waking words inject rhyme
Trip in waiting rooms where
Junkies have no sleep lines to trace
Thoughts will always find you-
They clasp creative veins and constrict
Normal flow outside the high place
Mar22
Transfusion
What I wanted to say
About what I’m thinking
What I’m feeling
What I know, what I am afraid of now is you
Strange in too many ways
You don’t fit me
And makes me sadder
Than I ever want to be again
I’d like to have me back
Just as uncluttered and stoic
My heart needs no aerobics of emotion anymore
Jolting up and down
Leaves me tired for too long afterwards
And I won’t come back again
Because of burn-out
You remind me of offerings
That never replace themselves
But slowly drain
An uneven transfusion
Mar13
THE MASCOT
This morning I watched a Black woman cross the street
in a white dress
She was blue collar
We were problems for the other
Separated by class or degrees – –
And the books I’d complained were heavy
lightened with the weight I felt watching her
Young and tired of being yanked at by
men and kids who gave validity
and took away hope
We knew to speak
And she smiled with contempt for my freedom
She must be the strong one
For cementing households and raising the Black children
For putting up with the men and that little bit…
Her stamina moves her
Forward and out of sight
Between buildings that lose us
Mar10
Seeking Execution
Seeking execution is a man
Who wants to die again
Without consequence – does not consider
Pallbearers of his conscience
A fugitive of personal crimes
Runs from the man
He cannot be –
His front looks real
But it dilutes and cheats him of substance
The ordinary man turns himself in
Like a “latch key” abusing free time –
He will decline appeal and gamble
That the verdict brings him pleasure
His reflection shows the line-up
That looks back on him without live rounds
Ready to destroy his character
Mar7
The Lobbyist
I write to regain my bearings and reboot. It’s just not that serious these people and life issues, right?. I was a smoker when I wrote this poem. I guess The Lobbyist will be happy to know I gave up that bad habit! Poetry keeps me sane…
The Lobbyist
This woman at an elevator
Was lobbying against my smoke
The ash cans didn’t count for starting up
But putting out the choking fumes
I forced upon her
Not goodwill, money or sex
Could be extorted from that soul
No secret smiles of afterglow
Or posture of secured future
Friendship brings no floor
To hear the lobbyist
Her ride up was too slow
Then, she stopped short of the number
Pushed to hard and caused a shaft
To break her lift
That swayed her against me
Against us all
Feb26
WORD JONES
Most writers will relate to the compulsion that can occur when you are writing. It can be ceaseless, day or night, you think of a line and have to write it down before the idea escapes you. It’s our addiction of sorts…
Word Jones
Nose open inhaling time
Your head and hands make contact and
Ignite the smoking mind
With a need
You deal a line to whomever wants a hit
Waking words inject rhyme
Trip in waiting rooms where
Junkies have no sleep lines to trace
Thoughts will always find you-
They clasp creative veins and constrict
Normal flow outside the high place
Feb21
UPSTAGED!
My sex appeal is nurtured.
The work is not condensed to digest
in real life.
Superb actor apply within
limits staged in familiar settings
Episodic, sit-com, mini-series
promotional clips – the act
beats living disappointing rehearsals.
Turn up wine bottles
before I light candles or place the
glasses near flowers (I bought myself).
And believe that what I do for you
Is more than what I do…
Ignored ambience, stolen credits,
suppressed applause.
How would I act with a man who sees
the same movie?
Egos & Buffaloes 