Miss New Orleans,
Where zee cats
wear black
backwards loot
and teeth walk
after the
dead.
Soon,
she could,
with 66
collect
telephone
teeth,
school the
best dead
snake doctors.
Moon Pirates
took her snake
gumbo skin
and kissed
her cook, Crocodile.
Poetry
Miss New Orleans(rewrite using same words from OG poem by Tom Robbins)
MISS NEW ORLEANS
66 Pirates teeth
Zee Snake doctors
And black moon gumbo;
She learned to perfect
Her dead.
Soon she could wear cat’s skin,
Fix her crocodile walk,
Telephone the kissed
And collect loot backwards.
New Orleans,
Where she went to cook pirates
And miss gumbo black.
But she took moon school
Backwards
And her crocodile teeth
Telephoned the dead
Collect.
“It is she…Miss New Orleans”
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Poems that became songs
Said your peace
In the darkest of September
In the darkness of my mind
He say
“This bottle lasts forever”
Call my name
Don’t you call my name
And say we felt the rain
It wasn’t me
Who shot you down
On the coldest street
Before you said your peace
It must have been me
Who laid you down
For your endless sleep
Before you said your peace
“Ain’t no easy way to glory”
He say
“You got to pay your way”
Nothing seems the same now
Call my name
Don’t you call my name
And say we felt the rain
Needle and the bottle
He say
“Old scratch he hold my hand”
Nothing feels the same now
Call my name
Don’t you call my name
And say we felt the rain
Walk on
I guess you figured out
I’m a foolish man
And devotion
Is a lonely
Word
In the middle
Of my purest notion
Someone left
And pulled
The plug
But I’m gonna walk on
I’m gonna keep on
Keeping on
I can’t remember
All the good times
Together
You just kept on taking
Forgot about the man
You were breaking
You lied
Now
You cry
Loneliness is endless
What a mess confessing
I was weaker still
Love and pain
Should all be sleeping now
They shake my weary bones
But I’m gonna walk on
I’m gonna keep on
Keeping on
My eyes
I’m the clown
You’re the sun
Shining through
The menagerie
Come on closer
A little bit closer
Song I sing
To make you smile
Some tell you
I wanna show you
Can you see
It’s in my eyes?
Summer angel
Sweet Madonna
Chestnut sky
Above your head
Violins played
The same old song
You came walking
In my light
This ole world
Goin be gone
One day
Like a smile from a clown
It fades away
But this is love babe
That good good love babe
I’ll play my song
You shine your light
Some tell you
I wanna show you
Can you see
It’s in my eyes?
Another Sad Song
My girl
She talks about love
With both eyes
She smiles always
Sometimes
When the light shines
I used to try so hard
To be all alone
I thought I found my heart
I thought I found my home
(It’s just a)
Another sad song
For you to cry though
Another lonely heart
For you to lie to
It’s so easy
Then it’s so hard y’all
To fall in love
She goes in the winter
She stays in the rain
Last time I saw her face she said
“You look the same”
My heart’s on the cold concrete
For so long
She said “please don’t go, but if you must
Sing me a song”
Another sad song
For you to cry though
Another lonely heart
For you to lie to
Here
So, so far gone
I am not my own
Please baby
Don’t make me stay
I am too far away
Surely there’s a way
Miles behind me there
I can’t find me
here
Me
Sharp as a gun
pride
Unwilling to run
Fire set on a line
Love
Ain’t never on time
Surely there’s a way
Miles behind me there
I can’t find me
here
I can’t find me
Here
I can’t find me Here
I can’t find me
Here
I can’t find me Here
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Corazon de SanFrancisco ‘96
In a dense blue beet,
a rhythm of a long stocking kiss,
the wind-fog of a grey bridge,
Two chambers opened for the mist and the moon.
A tongue of charm and tooth
The bewitching wink and lash,
Amber and gold,
Golden amber
Round as a bassoon.
A notion wrapped in a beat box
of promises on a sunburnt bridge
that bound two tempos into calico grins,
thick as the martyrs bond and sweet as the blood of a savior
A hero in a hole,
love with brown eyes
beets the color of his pounding name,
pulsing in the sun,
raging from bridge to shore.
A Diamond dancing on a needle,
sharp as a gun,
strong as the midnight whisper,
soaked the beauty of the Hero’s dreams.
They came to water,
exploding like freedom’s first steps
on the streets of rocks and roses.
The Diamond and the Hero
in the heights and heat of San Francisco
set fire It’s electric spine
and burst the heart of an ancient hum.
Held blood and bridges,
held beats and breath
until the night could no longer weep
and the lights of the City sang their names!
D.A. Medina
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A La Boom Boom (knot a poem)
When the doves sing in the willow trees
Or when they croon with
One
Another
As each day
Becomes dusk
Do you think they tweet about love?
I have my doubts…yet
Their sounds are sweet to the ear
And Lord knows you don’t have to try
To hear
A
God damn thing
That is whispered, murmured or mumbled
In your zip code
See if you can hear this…
My love for you is not a song
That for a spell
Is
Sweet,
Then in a moment,
Gone
My love does not
Spill all over you
Like a vanity fair
With compliments,
Promises and
Flower petals.
I will not write
stanza after stanza
About your eyeballs
Or the sound of your voice
I won’t become fanatical with the length of your legs
Nor will I stir up hysteria with lines
About the contour of your hips,
The delicate breath,
The end of winter
Or the last time we danced.
I will not place upon the page
That which has been said
By all the other
Monkeys
Concerning love and its many traps
I will only say this,
I see your spirit
And
It is a flawless
Diamond
The magic between you and I
Is that our spirits dwell together
And they have known one another
Forever…
D
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Ode to the first Smith…
I remember when
it grabbed my ear,
turned it upside down
underneath that winded loft
in the middle of a harvest moon.
There
I herded my salvation,
garnered my reason
and found my way.
It was my Uncle’s tap,
tap….
tap tap tap
and the Smith Corona
wrapped around the paper flesh
that wooed me.
The faint smell of ink
began it’s swing shift
in my ole’ factories
as I peeped my messy head
above the horizon
of the last
loft step.
Eye
watched quietly
as my uncle hunched over
that typewriter desk,
humming to himself
out of key,
scratching against the paper grain
tapping tap tap
tapping
until his world faded away.
With lash and eyeball
I was stuck
on a ladder
as the moon glow
slipped
into
the tiny
window
above
his balding plot
that held the secret
to the story,
somewhere
in the folds of his brain.
It was my road to Damascus,
I would no longer
kick against
my fate.
It was the day
everything changed
and the night
I have kept secret
from all the other nights.
The mind’s river
swelled and bu s te d,
too fast for thought or intervention,
spilled the smallest seed of mustard
and dog
then
licked clean the snout and rifleman.
Rugged in Persian rain
and complaints,
the fantastic tongue
that speaks loyalty and sugar coats shame,
became mine.
The wide open mouth
that curses and gives blessings,
thee spring
that gives both saltwater to drown in,
fresh water for the driest tooth,
A baptismal water
for a young believer
to be buried in
and rise up in
the garden of
rock and rose.
The voice of a nation,
the screams of a whore.
Orders of French fries,
orders to kill,
orders for peace
And apple
pan
pies.
Words that make
men
fall
in love,
words
that push men
to kill
in the name of love.
A pot of sounds
blended and spoiled in the sun,
grammar for the stars
nailed to the
door on a note.
All of these were under the spell of the tap tap tap.
A Language lost in the garages
of Amerikkka
left in the wind of verbatim.
That incantation of the world’s words
infected my lonely brain
and sealed my soul salvation.
The same sounds that laid inside pop songs
and hid in the old woman’s pine,
The slang of the ghettos and jailhouses,
the dialect of lawyer and judge;
became an unending
solidarity
for me and my unknown
comrades.
It was that night my uncle left
the legs
of his loft chair
lonely
… I snuck in
and began
my
tap
tap
tapping
until I found
my
freedom.
My old world began to fade away
and my secret
utopia
was
manifested.
D.A. Medina
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We are all in recovery
We are all in recovery.
Warm, naked and fed,
deep in bliss water
and heartbeats
fingers and toes free from fashion’s
snubs.
Wiggling in our amniotic masterpiece,
devoid of depression
wringing wet in true romance
and far from breakups and love’s letdowns.
Until the finest abode became stuffed with consequence
and sent us all whirling into the world,
Pushed, pulled and snatched from our sac of contentment
and
dragged out into the wind of expectation.
We are all recovering from our birthday
when we began to be a human being
stuck in skin and sex trying to work out
a wardrobe;
aging in blue, aging in pink
remembering gold
longing for silver
while our futures were handed over to
thousands of opinions
on which way to go.
We are all in recovery
from the mess on the sheets,
the panic in a woman,
the foolishness of a dog’s thrust
that
sent us all to rehab
with birth certificates
and licenses to work the day shift
while the sun lit up the world all around us.
Pushing pencils and pistols under the pillows
telling the truth and telling lies
about the first time we were really happy
with the unknown shuffle,
the barber chair,
the wedding cake
and all the reasons to be drunk
in the pit.
We are all in recovery.
D.A. Medina
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What is Ralph Crammed in, if he ain’t yellin at Ed Norton?
what is sex
when you’re
home alone?
what is Amerikkka
without
the mobile phone?
what’s Macaulay Caulkin
if he ain’t sulkin’
In his pajamas?
what is Alabama
If it ain’t bleeding
or if it ain’t Beatin’
everyone brown?
what is boogie down
Without D Nice?
what is a cross if it doesn’t have Christ
what’s fried rice
if you
don’t add bacon?
what are the Feds…..
if they ain’t takin,
all your cash?
What is a gash if you ain’t packin heat?
whats a whiteboy if he rapped to the beat?
what is a stash if you ain’t got a strap
what is wooly if you can’t bust a cap
what’s bomb sex if you didn’t take a nap
what is Mr. Google if He didn’t have an app
what are the Greeks if they ain’t teaching?
whats mr Taso if he ain’t preachin?
What’s a remora if it ain’t leachin?
what is battle without the beat bumpin
what is a horn dog if he ain’t humpin
What is a Hindu if he ate cattle ?
what is Seattle
if it ain’t raining
what is your girl
if she ain’t complaining
what is a hamstring
if it ain’t straining?
what’s Asheville if you can’t get drunk?
what is a dime is she ain’t got a trunk?
what’s Mr Webster if he wasn’t Monk?
what is doughnut if it can’t dunk?
Ooooooh ooooooh
It’s like that I keep bonin’
What is Chewbakka
if he ain’t groanin
at Han Solo
what is a kid if he didn’t play bolo?
What’s water polo without white people?
What’s Big D if he wasn’t fair and equal ?
what is Frodo if he didn’t get the sequel ?
What is Consizzle
without the missing tooth?
what’s a long tongue without a kissing booth?
what is Topski without burning both ends ?
what’s Thom Yorke if he didn’t have the Bends?
What’s
what is my chick if she didn’t have a weapon
what’s Big Daddy without the half steppin’?
what is this rhyme if I didn’t say what
what is baby if you don’t wipe his butt?
DOOKIE…..
Ice T been hatin POOKIE
whats Gus Cutty
without the spray paint
what is a border if you ain’t got a taint
Ooooh oooh
its like that I keep spitting
what is a Panda Bear if he wasn’t shittin?
What is Medina if the beat ain’t hittin?
what is kitty if you can’t keep it wet
what is Smidi if he didn’t say “Bet”
what’s Big D
without the logorrhea
what is a toddler without diarrhea?
Whats Daniel San with out Miyagi San?
what is THE MAN if he didn’t have a pawn ?
what is this writing if I keep on and on?
What
jigga what
jigga
what
jigga
WHAT!!!
D.A. Medina
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Protected: Blazed Hour
Ain’t nobody home
Ain’t nobody home,
she said and pulled her nightgown
into the shadow of the brown wooden
door frame.
I used to live here,
I said and tipped my baseball cap
as I stepped off
the stone porch
into the nightlight
that kissed all of my grandfather’s plumerias.
Then it began to rain
all over my face
as I walked the down the streets
of my hometown.
wecontroloursoul 