Tag Archives: Creative Writing

The Lobbyist

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I write to regain my bearings and reboot. It’s just not that serious our crazy 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…

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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 too hard and caused a shaft
To break her lift
That swayed her against me
Against us all

NO

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Read it and believe…

No is a Complete Sentence

THE MASCOT

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The Mascot 2

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

The Lobbyist

Standard

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

COMING CLEAN

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Coming clean in Atlantic City
after Jill Scott’s “Golden” truth serum.
We were at the cross roads of our future
and some things had to be said.
Coming clean in Atlantic City looking in your mirror
at a double exposure that could have passed us by
were it not for God’s amazing grace.
 
At the Tropicana we gambled and won big, didn’t we?
Left without a dime from the house
but regained our winning spirits
that could only be revealed when we
were brave enough to come clean.

Coming clean in Atlantic City
we emptied our fears onto opposing beds.
I think you read me…
like I read you.
That discomfort stretched us beyond
what we already know.
I can’t imagine the world without us.