Paid in Trail Mix

A Facebook Poem – May 21, 2018

Now I smoke pot with students,

Tell dirty jokes in verse,

Watch fucked up movies that make me

Feel like screaming for free soup.

I host kareoke and enjoy prosperity

Unbruised, skin calloused by time.

My bank got robbed, but this

Bandage will keep the blood from flowing,

And eventually my woman instincts

Will kick in and I’ll

Make us some sandwiches.

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Every Piece

Photo by Yuri Levin on Unsplash

A Facebook Poem – May 17, 2018

 

Every piece of us fits together,

Even as we change.

We crown our PMS bitchiness with daisies,

Rings of body fat woven in.

We pay for prime Laurel / Yanny,

Binge our favorite shows and feel like freaks

Getting car sick on the mountains.

 

There must be a way out of this.

A ha! And a hi-yah! And a kick in the tits!

We need someone to hug us

Without acting like we’re asking for attention.

We really need Festivus, an airing of grievances.

We need to help Facebook scientists cure

Our infertility. This is our first time.

 

Every piece of us fits together.

 

Our resting bitch faces scare men who catcall.

We take no shit and resign ourselves

To real mad money, finding the perfect age

To make mad money, to stay home on bed rest

Asking friends if they can relate.

 

Even as we change.

 

The first time I saw Judge Judy’s legs,

She was still in a sitting position,

Pointing to a portion plate,

Telling me what to eat.

So I ate a hawaiin shirt without a ‘stache

And a salesman tried to guilt trip me

When I gave the finger to the corporate fat cats.

 

Every piece of us fits together,

Even as we change.

Every piece.

Podcast Psychology

A Facebook Poem – April 8, 2018

 

The worst spelling of my name is Friday.

I go wayfaring in dreams, pick purse enamel

From hate, drain irate parental comments.

A wonderful theme, this time, this art

Born in the wrong era. I won’t wear a bra

Or make rainbow chard into old farts.

 

Wooden wedding notes ruin my honeymoon.

I write fractions as a person to apologize for.

I want the hottest hassle, the biggest bang.

Yes, please, customize my box, eat my munch.

My brain increases negative, stimulates heroic elements,

Super-charged focus for remarkable satisfaction,

Planned and carefully created.

 

Success is a mind-reaching high on a golden mile,

Rocks dropped on heads headed for splitsville,

A song on a Sunday agenda.

My future self met new friends and took pictures

To prove they exist.

I refuse to clean until weather turns warm, not yet.

This safety net covers your podcast psychology

But won’t keep me from getting wet.

 

Photo by Maranatha Pizarras on Unsplash

Like a Lotioned Glove

A Facebook Poem – January 28, 2018

 

My “more food” face killed any chance at fitness,

Like a new sports bra, supportive but binding.

We ate takeout from a cheap cafe and crafted

Words, composed words in sentences,

Struggled and desired suffering, joy, justice, love,

Abstract concepts like a quick moving virus.

Only mild pain and uneasiness remain.

Which means we can celebrate and maintain

Finding calm ways to party.

 

I didn’t get my eight glasses today.

I’m not diluted enough to think Trump is the most racist president

But he is codename Penelope and he never goes outside.

Last night he ran, despite the fact he doesn’t even like

The colorful world beyond the White House.

 

I started these new supplements and now

I’m less bloated, I crave water, I take leaps of faith

Off buildings, I get inspired 10 times a day,

I make love and I hunger and I get free Amazon deliveries.

I feed my face for the children. I worship Americanism.

I eat flavored bath bombs because they just smell so good.

 

So I brought my ass out after finding a family member

Unconscious on heroin, resuscitated in Hell.

I will answer any and all questions with a gif.

Feel free to steal this status.

Keep this lazy mama warm and resolve to make 2018

The year of yoga classes and cute baby pics.

 

I remember when real love was something I could just

Sink into, like a lotioned glove.

 

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Incomplete Thoughts

I dreamt of lemon mousse tarts, Lucille Ball

And sweet-hearted redheads, girls I once called friends.

With my warrants paid, I’m finally free and

Pleased to go home in my black velvet dress,

Back to 1996 and memories.

 

Modern women argue with our dental insurance and volunteer

For Wisconsin nonprofits, shunning prophets-for-profits.

We take care of things, realising

Flooding facebook with chain letters is no kind of protest.

Us witches craft signs and flaunt ourselves out on the lawn

In front of white government buildings.

 

So here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson. You live in an unforgiving place.

Drink wine to forget all the pain, all the laughing.

They fluff your dress, fix your lipgloss,

And as you get sloshed they choose a jukebox tune

You never wanted to listen to.

Later, coherent but cranky, you ask for coffee.

 

I broadcast my problems on social media,

Seven black and white photos of my life.

The internet explodes my brain with the powers that be.

I pretend this day doesn’t exist.

My little sister ain’t little no more. She’s already learning

What it means to be.

 

Stop by and keep me busy.

Kick me while I’m on the ground already.

How could you ever want to date me?

When I met you, you asked me not to

Go into labor during your anti-bullying presentation.

It just didn’t – feel right

But I guess you’re not a little boy anymore.

 

I hope for my future daughter’s looks,

She should be beautiful and therefore respected

Able to hold her own at only eight weeks old.

For now, I’ll hide in my pillow pile until tomorrow

Wondering when and if my thoughts will ever be complete.

 

Note: This is a Facebook Poem – think magnetic poetry with social media. Of course, I mold and shape it to fit my purpose but the original inspiration is my friends’ status posts from October 21, 2017.

Blow Off Steam after a Long Week

I.

So tired of being an afterthought that my head hurts!

If you ever wanted to buy my love, an SNES Classic would do nicely.

Thinking of going to the Uptown block party this afternoon –

Go Band and Go Blue! Not going to mention how humble I am.

Kapernick and the NFL kneelers now have everyone’s attention,

But it’s like beating a dead horse.

II.

Tell me about your favorite picture books to teach empathy and respect.

Theon Greyjoy killed his fucking dog, let’s see who follows him.

People expecting the world to change overnight are the same people

That pour KoolAid in the ocean. What’s Step 2 of this plan?

Geek out with mind blowing prints (a sight to see, I tell ya).

I truly hope everyone finds someone in life that makes them feel the way

Albert makes me a better person.

Awesomeness met in rainbows before class started today

III.

If you ever shop on Amazon, you need to see this:

Wicket can hardly handle the excitement over his monthly delivery of fun.

The flash sale was small, but I am super excited that students showed up

And didn’t want to leave.

IV.

I love hearing I don’t look 50 years old!

Woot! The day is mine again!

Anyone else going? CCHS Homecoming Weekend festivities today.

I miss you and expect you to change color like a Mystery of the Universe.

What is it about me that makes many seemingly sane women lose their shit?

I know I’m pretty, and I’m a tiger in the sack.

Thanks Katie for being my date – much prefer this to a hospital bed

I know I’ve had a long one. Thanks, world, for loving me.

V.

Working all night behind the bar, stop in and try one of the 62 different beers here.

Labor laws are cool, but mandatory midday work meetings

Leave me pretty exhausted.

I’ve been pretty much done nothing but school stuff since Wednesday.

My wit, humor, and joie de vivre can’t hurt either.

It was a blast drinking spiced cider in the backyard while my dude worked

VI.

Eleven years ago today, I was breaking in the wedding heels

By walking around the house in them while nursing

Fire at my place tonight if anyone is looking.

Photo by Yvette de Wit on Unsplash

Facebook status poem 10/1/2017

To My Doorstep

Dear Mr. Postman, when you deliver packages in the hood

At least try to ring the doorbell

Someone just spent a hundred dollars I no longer have

While I’ve been working in my own realm

evelyn-paris-96422
Photo by Evelyn Paris on Unsplash

Hey Facebook friends, I give up

I was doing so much better on my own

But this one anxiety med I took didn’t work

I’m trying to make a sensory / calm area

I’m procrasting pretty hard on all the stuff I have to do

Finally buying into YouTube since this is where I lose

The most tears every day

 

Doctor, I know I’m starting to gain weight back

Sitting on the porch like a lazy shit

Wondering if anyone has extra bean bags they would like to donate

I have wanted and have been putting off buying a bike the last few years

Hundreds of Green Bay families have a meal to come home to

Thanks to the food pantry, I’m cooking tonight

 

Our beloved Tilapia passed away last night

So I guess I just get to stay sick because even with my insurance

The second bout of antibiotics leaves me feeling like Game of Thrones

Lost and dying from untreated wounds

 

What did you do during the twenties, Mom?

Happy birthday, Mom. Are you ready to explore the universe?

Unless you’re doing a duckface, this smiling thing really works

I’m placing my order tomorrow for the anti plaque / whitening toothpaste

I’m back from the most wonderful relaxing vacation ever

Each state hilariously depicted by stereotypes

 

Proud moment: I feel cute as fuck today

And yesterday I felt as confident as someone with an 800 credit score

Might be the post pregnancy hormones

But the generosity of my friends and family has been delivered

 

A Facebook Poem – August 28, 2017