"Poem For A Poet-less Feeling"

I am struggling to find a beautiful world outside my window...again. Everything has unraveled due to my impatience and immaturity. The child inside hides in obscurity. I need security for my fragile mind. Cracking under pressure like a capsule and time be the hammer constantly racking my brain on note. Key the theme music stuck in my throat. I choke, but it isn't a Heimlich, I'm spineless with jellyfish moves towards my future, I sting my upbringing, financial improvements groove not to the beat. The needle is heated, and a fire's under my feet.

I need space for sanity but the universe is vast, so there goes my die cast into my problematic past. Closet cleaning proceeds to bring more up than swept rugs that uncover trouble that bugs me. Dust mites and ugly feelings. I keep falling into love that falls into potholes that form from the innermost sanctum of my soul. Been down this street before. Dare I ignore these warning signs like a crime in progress. Just asking moms from her higher seat to bring me all blessings and praises due. I'd a candle, too, but strike a match from all the funk that I've been going through? Shit is blowing me like a prostitute. Even my poetry has a magnitude of marginalizing my attitude. Family is separated like a chattel situation. Due to my occupations, I've been schoolin' cats but not geeting the lessons back from Heaven's Nation. Vacation coming. Somehow this seems a bat to similar to home. Being without one and garnishing the shit I own.

Friends are enemies and commdoities of calamity. Pit me against one another like varsity vanity. Showing off the anger and leaving me to deal. I cut the cards and get the whip appeal, you know, the lashes on the back with vegan diets or beef continued? What's next? My spiritual choice on the menu? I need a fix. Need a jump start, kick start, starter pistol. Shoot after two yells into the midst of madness. Run after happiness. Finish strong like James Brown. Stretch the smile like circus clowns. Getting down. Getting up is required first. Stop being candy assed and let my star burst.

What's worse? Even after this verse, I gotta still generate the scrilla before the first.


Ifeanyi Okoro II
Copyright 10/31/2010

"Self Unshevled" (Two Parts)

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)

Here's #12 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project

Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, Tx

Part 1

My heart

My soul

My spirit

My love

My life

My thoughts

My skin

My desire

My drive

My will

My power

My weakness

My future endeavors

My past regressions

My pain

My anger

My despair

My grief

My struggle

My blaming

My faults

My fears

My apathy

My vengeance

My troubles

Part 2

Funny, it's not really not about me, is it?

I must realize things aren't always what they scream

The needle in the hay stack dream busts through my seams

And the theme isn't a motto, find the points, tips, unhollow

To correct and lead forward, the lesson and rules I must follow.

© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II