My Life As I Remember It

I met this poem in the book “ALOUD” Voices From the Nuyorican Poets Cafe.  I’ve been amazed how the poet describes his life with vivid honesty and grace in language.

The poem is written by Bobby Miller

 

My Life As I Remember It

At two years old I whistled at the mailman and set a pattern for years to come.
At four I danced in the sunshine of our front yard,
an interpretative dance to the gods.
The neighbors swore I was retarded.
At six I told my classmates that I was from another galaxy light years away.
Mrs. Jackson, our first grade teacher, thought it necessary to alert my parents.
By ten Mr. Grady the art teacher was alarmed by the colors I chose to paint with,
red, black and purple.
In junior high I was considered weird and neat at the same time because I dressed funny and my parents had tattoos and Harleys.
My ninth grade report card was all D’s and F’s except for art and music class.
All written reports from the faculty stated,
” talks too much and daydreams…”
Some things never change.

I watched the Beatles arrive in America,
and decided I wanted to go to England.
I saw hair grow over ears and down over
collars and onto shoulders and backs
all over the country.
I walked with the first protest march in Washington and every other for ten years. And we still have crooks running the country.
I sat in streets, cafes, corner bars and coffee houses and listened to the beat of a new generation being born.
I went through puberty with Janis and Jimmy and took LSD when it wasn’t cut with speed or poison.
I smoked pot in fifth grade and laughed all day at a fat substitute teacher named Mrs. Potty.
I dated black boys at fifteen in an all white Klan neighborhood.
I hitch-hiked to New York from Baltimore with three queens in hot pants, clogs and long bleached shags at sixteen
and blew truckers all up and down the turnpike.

I’ve been addicted to MDA, tequila, LSD, PCP, speed, dope, coke, pot, mescaline, Quaaludes, nicotine, sex and the mysteries of the night all my life until I hit twenty-eight.
Now it’s only night life and sex.
I’ve walked barefoot on twenty four hundred degree hot coals and not been burnt.
Greta Garbo grabbed me from behind in traffic and saved my life.
I’ve had green hair, blue hair, black hair, red hair, no hair, long hair and all before 1973.
I’m happy to still have hair.
I’ve walked Sunset Blvd., Polk Street,Forty Second, Hollywood and Vine, Christopher, Fire Island Blvd., P-town, Key West, Bombay, Miami Beach, London, Paris, Rome, Milan, Montreal, and every gay ghetto street listed in the book and I’m still looking for the perfect lover.
I’ve lived as a woman for a solid year and had tits, thank you.
I’ve dated black men, white men, brown men, red men, yellow men, and several delicious women.
I’ve been engaged, married, in love, separated, divorced and brokenhearted
I’ve had syphilis, gonorrhea, crabs, scabies, hemorrhoids, hepatitis, appendicitis, dermatitis and the flu at least fifty times.
And I feel better now at forty than I did at twenty five.
I’ve spent the last eleven years meditating, concentrating, contemplating, applicating, educating, investigating and instigating a higher ideal.
I’ve been a born again Christian,
a crystal-holding new age visualizationist,
a Buddhist, a Hindu, a Christian scientist,
a Universalist, a bullshit artist, a seeker of truth, a charlatan,a holy roller, a shamanistic dancer, a guru, a disciple and an enigma to my friends.
I’m a triple Gemini natural blonde who loves God and takes time out to smell the roses.
I’ve been around the block at least ten times and I’m ready to go again until these feet won’t carry me anymore.
I have always believed in the power of love and that the groove lies somewhere between the heart and the genitals.
I have never been deliberately cruel and I’ve never hit anyone with my fist –
I hope I never have to.

I’ve been a whore, a saint, a sinner, a healer, a heathen, an actor, a poet, a drag queen, a straight man, a teenage zombie,
a punk rocker, a greaser, a clone, a faggot,
a streetwalker, a skywriter, a vegetarian,
a teacher, a student, a wanderer, a caretaker,
a wild thing, a father, a son, a yogi, and
a fierce hairdresser.
I’ve been lost, found confused, absolved, punished and rewarded.
I’ve stared death in the face and wondered why not me – yet.
I’ve talked and listened and heard and seen and been shown the way.
I’ve played follow the leader, pin the tail on the donkey, five card stud, and Russian roulette with a silver handled .38.
I’ve lost eight thousand in cash gambling
and won five hundred on a bet in less than a minute.
I’ve seen the eye of God and been touched by her hand.
I’ve seen miracles happen and been
disappointed dozens of times.
I’ve been almost everywhere, met almost everyone, seen almost everything,
done almost all of it, and I’m still waiting to be discovered.
The night has a thousand eyes and I’m a gypsy dancer still hungry for more.

-Bobby Miller

 

http://www.mothernyc.com/verbal/mylife.html

 

Faceless

I breathe you

Day and night I long to touch your hand
and see the shade of your hands. How
those hands would turn red while I press
every finger and thumb locked into mine;
If only your hands…

The sky has took you in – faceless as I am
I wonder how you’d shave the beard in your jaw,
how you’d trim the mustache close to your lips,
how you’d smell the fragrance of my neck,
how your eyes like agates would look at me now.

I crave your lips, your tongue, the air of your mouth.
I wish they would touch, riotous, if sea and sky!
They merge in space with swift glory,
after the tombs fall.

My grief is solemn as white water
because you are everything to me
Seething flesh, handsome imagination
Different rocks and hues

How would you take me then –
if my times were chips that crashed?
if my bliss were only shadows and clouds?
if I were faceless?

I have longed for you as I have promised
waiting in seconds, hours, and years…
Every day, I’ve pleaded
and that is all I can be –
faceless like the sky.

I breathe you.
I breathe you in the moon and stars
I breathe you in the shrouded skies
I breathe you.

I breathe you –
Swift and loud like thunder, I’d come,
faceless, I’d come,
Love in the holy hours of dazzling Flame.

All 213 poems by rose flores rosevoc2

In November Rush

Did you miss me?

I got busy drawing hands

All those hands: leaders’, workers’, servants’

And yours the most!

The clouds bothered on some nights, their shapes unpredictable

as your laughter and grin –

I miss your eyes

And those times you couldn’t answer my favors, but just look at me

How innocent your gaze!

And your mouth pursed like a moon

And your face glowed like tequila

I adore you.

rose flores rosevoc2
also on poemhunter.com

November Poems

Dear Poets, May I Leave A Comment? Thank You

To: Sir William C. Williams (on The Descent)

Descent is the moon that wanes beneath darkness
Clouds, gray nights of cold
Like a love unrequited
Like tales untold

Like throes hiding under shadows
Like dreams unrealized burrow
Etched is truth, there lies abyss
Lonely lilacs surrender peace.

To Mr. R. Eberhart (on Grave Piece)

Death nigh unto life, lay questions of tomorrow
Four doves in the grave, blight then, now sorrow
O crystal Tear, of all be near, I shall not fear, I shall not fear!

To: Mr. W.H. Auden (on Perhaps)

Your “barren virtuous marriage of stone and water”
Is a ring in my heart where name and image meet.

You paint a soothing ocean in the summer
Black stones glittering gold cobwebs ponder
Underneath stones sparkling ripples of kiss
My lips supple – still, pure pink for your love
Lithe for your flesh; be for you, Dear love.

To: Sir Dylan Thomas (on After the Funeral)

Could there be a love like Michael Furey’s love?
Could Ann Jones be the reality of Gretta?
What other thoughts tie Sir James with you?
And me, and the others? Perhaps love, that of Auden.

Scrubbed and sour humble hands of old Anne
Clench monuments for the boys shedding dry leaves

And I, now a mother, a womb of oceans
My naked chest for the world

And after all the lovers gone
Vigor and bloom on window sills
Everything fades from a love, all transient like grass

Only funerals in choir of angels
Only God’s love eternally lasts

And for my lover, my lover, my lover
Haul me up your arms when in death;
Nigh your heart, nigh your breath,
In peace, cast away my fear
To Father God, I shall forever rest.

Did I make sense, dear great poets?
Thank you for the poems.
God bless the poets!

rosalinda flores martinez

Hereafter

Barred walls real as cloud frames on sky
Door free and open as fields that grow
Wind blowing dust on pavement gray
And chains on feet to ground below.

Must I die now? Do I dare so?
My heart, speak not! My mind, shout go!
Dare the woods and trail of thorns
No coming back, breathed holes in trough.

Every leap, time seething by
Umber wet; bones scald in marrows
Heal threads of seas – You and I
Catching snows and flowers on mouth.

When are you just coming back?
How many all, stars I’ve counted?
Mounted on breasts, navel and spirit
My flesh, arrows spiked tombs and fane.

Incandescent fire and tender bliss
Know I live only for a time:
As a wick fades, my flesh ends
And next, a yellow sunset fence.

Seeds grow in umber fanes gold
Hands, waves on shores not weary up
Only human, I am so, un-god
Of myth, limbs so frail, nailed gravity.

Succulent fruit of red and after
Mind drifts impure, feculent thief;
Vines that crawl like serpent beasts
Thy sword, Saint Michael, in your fist!

O Holy God, Almighty One,
I search your light, Thy will be done
If after all, I must complain
Take all away, but You remain.

rose flores rosevoc2
also on poemhunter.com

Ego Tripping (there may be a reason why) by Nikki Giovanni

I was born in the congo
I walked to the fertile crescent and built
the sphinx
I designed a pyramid so tough that a star
that only glows every one hundred years falls
into the center giving divine perfect light
I am bad

I sat on the throne
drinking nectar with allah
I got hot and sent an ice age to europe
to cool my thirst
My oldest daughter is nefertiti
the tears from my birth pains
created the nile
I am a beautiful woman

I gazed on the forest and burned
out the sahara desert
With a packet of goat’s meat
and a change of clothes
I crossed it in two hours
I am a gazelle so swift
so swift you can’t catch me

For a birthday present when he was three
I gave my son hannibal an elephant
He gave me rome for mother’s day
My strength flows ever on

My son noah built new/ark and
I stood proudly at the helm
as we sailed on a soft summer day
I turned myself into myself and was
jesus
men intone my loving name
All praises All praises
I am the one who would save

I sowed diamonds in my back yard
My bowels deliver uranium
the filings from my fingernails are
semi-precious jewels
On a trip north
I caught a cold and blew
My nose giving oil to the arab world
I am so hip even my errors are correct
I sailed west to reach east and had to round off
the earth as I went
The hair from my head thinned and gold was laid
across three continents

I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal
I cannot be comprehended except by my permission

I mean…I…can fly
like a bird in the sky…

On November 10, 2016. Good Morning Prayers

Thank you, Lord for another new morning.

It is so sweet to be in your care; you always endure our weaknesses.

Take our hand while we tread each new day.

Make our footsteps follow your way.

See that we do things for you and share our dreams.

Empower us with your light,

and let no one steal – the happiness in our hearts
which everyday you bestow in Your blessings. Amen.

“Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, now and will be, forever. Amen.”

St. Hannibal, pray for us
Send, O Lord, holy apostles into Your church.

/rosevoc