Mostly the fruits of what would have been my poetry collection Dry Humor, Wet T-Shirt. AD&AD is also my creative outlet that includes projects and initiatives I have been successful with in the past.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
The Tax Man Cometh, and The Juice Man Exits
Give me more money; you've earned a boatload of cash.
I tried to hide in corners,
behind high school lockers,
underneath large bins chuck full of Hawaiian Punch
atop dingy beige ceilings
But guess what? He saw my shadow like that groundhog Phil
and I had to hand over a third of one paycheck.
That's what I get for living in two states and working in four.
A total nightmare for my accountant (my computer).
Turbo Tax is overrated, yet I do not wish to give the State of Arkansas one red cent.
Let's hope this year is different.
This time, the tax man cometh - and the juice man escapeth.
How? TBA...
Til then, don't pull a Wesley Snipes
Pay your fair share of taxes
Yes, kids, some taxes are good (remember Hurricane Katrina?)
because this rig cannot dodge one more pothole on Interstate 40
and some social programs must continue for Dad's sake
I don't expect Social Security to be around when I get older
I know that's a shame
We po' folks gotta eat too and would like a piece of the American Dream also.
Keep on callin' the Hogs
Woo! Pig! Sooie! Razorbacks!
Remember to smile, play, and laugh a lot
Please pass the kool-aid
I'm out.
The Last Gift
I lay awake in my bed while she silently recharges her body
a thought rushed my mind as if I were Richard Sherman hawking a football:
The Last Gift.
What does that mean, or what should it insinuate?
Is it literally a physical gift, an excused date, a sacrifice?
What?
Does this have anything to do with me?
As I attempted to slide out of our queen-size bed, I could feel a boulder containing me.
I've gotta pee, I remember telling myself
but I didn't want to disturb the one asleep visiting dreamland.
A return to Dogwood Lakes (and partying cockroaches) are a reality we both dare not venture.
In cobralike fashion, I slither out of bed toward a white porcelain god across the dark hallway.
Ssssss, I silently shimmy over to the target struggling to aim for the ocean blue target:
the one-eyed creature blinks incessantly due to an excessively bright bathroom light.
The yellow-tinted urine has found its target!
I flush the toilet, turn off that devilish light, and tiptoe to a soft sanctuary next to my love.
I still couldn't go back to sleep, so I thought about the last gift:
Who? What?
I began to recall items I have given from my heart in the past such as
a poetry notebook, Abercrombie warmups, one hundred dollars, and a myriad of assorted gifts come to mind.
Yet, I still don't know what the last gift could be.
I plan on giving the dame resting next to me an engagement ring soon, but this isn't it.
I thought about the Dallas Cowboys beanbag and remote control Chevy Silverado and restaurant gift certificates and so forth, but to no avail.
Perhaps the last gift is what I leave behind after I depart for the heaven bound train,
My words, my actions, my imperfect attempts at this Christian life...
then it hit me.
The Last Gift is the greatest gift
one of altruism and service toward our fellow man.
Christ gave us His life, so why can't we offer something in return?
Kinda like "paying it forward", I suppose.
On December 25 or anytime a gift is exchanged,
acknowledge that the last gift may be the greatest gift.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Crucial Conflict Management
- Develop the art of listening with an unconditional ear. For a moment, just shut up! You don't know everything - and neither do I - so keep your ears open to unbiased hearing. Even if the speaker is completely in left field, he/she may say something that may prove invaluable later.
- Try to put yourself in the position of the person who has a frustration that needs attention. In a unionized heavy manufacturing facility, if a line worker is having an issue, he/she works the chain of command: lead man, supervisor, superintendent, management to air out a grievance. Someone else may be frustrated to the point of quitting; empathize with the speaker. While his/her frustrations may or may not be yours, share the pain if even for a moment. President Clinton is one of the best at using empathy to curry favor among people who otherwise would scoff the issue as "their problem".
- Understand that when a person days they don't like your actions, it doesn't mean they dislike you as a person. Accept constructive criticism. We're not out to get you; rather, we try to steer people toward the greater good of all. Ironically, we often surround ourselves with yes-men and women who won't say no to even the most bizarre of our desires because we have that power to remove dissent from our circles. By keeping some levelheaded members around, the team is not setting themselves up for failure.
- Work toward the goal of a mutually acceptable settlement rather than selfishly ignoring their pleas and defending your position. By working together for team glory, we can accomplish so much more. Winning is more fun when we all pool together our talent - a prime example is the Miami Heat. By sacrificing a little bit of their games, Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh, and LeBron James have won the past two NBA titles and hopefully will hoist the Larry O'Brien Trophy in mid-June.
- Reward any behavior that is an improvement in meeting the needs you have discussed. You don't always have to throw a pizza party to show appreciation for good work. By incorporating pieces of everyone's vision into the combined effort, the unit feels more appreciated.
- Reserve time to check up on the people who are critical to your long-term goals. Over the years, I have mentored brothers not only because I told them so, but also to develop them and let them know that they can always reach out to me about ideas, plans, etc. beyond careers. Identify the people who have REAL skin in your future, and stick with them. They may not always be perfect, but they have a sincere interest in you. Queue them in.
- Don't chastise people for having different needs from your own or perspectives that you haven't considered. Your worldview may be vastly different from another individual's perspective or your needs aren't the same as the guy down the street. Respect their opinions and keep it moving.
- Attack the problem, not the individual. By recognizing the problem and not castigating others, you can actually hear what is being said. Too many people are too busy attacking the person instead of attempting to solve the problem, and all that does is magnify a molehill.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
35
what up
i haven't written in a while due to time, work, and other life-related roles
if you've been looking...my bad.
i'm not perfect, only trying.
recently i turned 35 years old.
aside from my career decisions and atrophic muscles,
i've lived a pretty damn good life so far.
while i've never been a sociable being per se
(i wonder what a "normal" m-f work schedule would be like)
i'm grateful to have been productive most of the time.
my lone request this year is to pay it forward.
most of you pay for lunch or a cup of joe from starbucks, so just pick up the next customer's tab if you're able.
me? i'll do that as an example.
no point in bragging about doing the right thing, just do it.
it's not hard
someone will thank you later - or at least be satisfied with a hot pumpkin spice venti grande.
do that for me (and yourselves) and notice how much better you feel.
anyway, it's dinnertime and my grilled cod is calling me
time to grub
love peace and soul from that red dax wave cap can i finally started using again
God bless, I'm out.
I Gotta Be Free!
Free from the mundane, everything has a reason,
I don't know just won't cut it
life I live.
Free to lay in bed all day and watch Sportscenter
or HGTV and pick up more ideas on how to pimp my pad.
Free from "Ced's gonna buy me this and this and this"
and "he never listens to me" and "you work too much."
What else can I be free from?
Free from the niggafication America seems to adore,
pants sagging to the floor and throwback haircuts du jour.
Free to further break the mold -
I'm tired of you saying I am a white man with black skin.
May I have permission to enjoy the outdoors?
Is there anything wrong with watching golf or voting Republican?
Free to stand up and a practicing Christian,
unlike those showtime choir members and whorish ministers, faking one Sunday to the next.
God is not a light switch, and neither should our faith in Him resemble it.
Remember WWJD? Well, I do. It's a tough road,
but somebody's gotta at least try to venture it.
Free to say no and mean it -
if all I say is yes, then I will put myself in the crematory early.
Free to release my creativity -
the zipper comes as a bonus. Did I forget to zip my fly again?
Tricky Girbaud jeans.
I've gotta be free!
white flag
I'm starting to hate working
Maybe that's a bit harsh, but I do harbor a dislike of work
Is it fair for me to desire walking away?
It seems like my prayers for a day gig are being unanswered
- maybe God wants me to stick with the night shift, I'm not too sure -
Or perhaps this is punishment for some other sin, I reckon.
Six and a half years of the graveyard shift have really aged me.
Gone are those innocent, limber days as a gym rat
Exchanged for illuminated darkness, thirteen monitors, and four security cameras hovering above me.
Since the last time many of you saw me, I've gained nearly a hundred pounds, gray hair, and aching bones.
Yet all most people remember is an introverted genius.
Almost nothing surprises me anymore though you'd go in shock if I toss two fingers sideways out the car and never come back
Wouldn't ya?
Wouldn't ya?
Wouldn't ya?
Wanna know something funny?
I have an epic professional wardrobe in spite of my broke college kid appearance: shirts, ties, suits, blazers, wing tips, etc. and I sport Fila sneakers and a schlubby graphic tee promoting 23 flavors.
It's like playing dress up, only in reverse.
As a child, I'd find a jacket and tie rarely a toolbox and jeans.
Yet I tarry one with the other.
My toolbox is the one I occasionally use on my car -
Quite the dependable machine, I daresay. Arizona jeans are my Dockers, Fubu basketball shoes suffice as Stacy Adams.
I've never been power-hungry, and until a few years ago remarkably content.
Now my priorities have changed but people think I have not.
I have a wife to provide for and 1200 square feet to maintain, ya know.
Aside from the house, I'm debt-free for the first time since 1998
I feel good but I'm missing something.
Like Duncan Sheik, I'm barely breathing...
As I think it over, I wonder have I been waving the proverbial white flag too long.
Consider: I graduated the spring after 9/11, lost my only real job ten years ago, and drink like a fish.
No wonder why I've perfected the disappearing act.
Unrealized potential, shelved in the annals of history
Questions of shoulda, woulda, coulda don't matter now.
If only...
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
My Favorite Cover Songs
- Prince, When Doves Cry (covered by Ginuwine)
- Michael Jackson, Smooth Criminal (covered by A.A.F)
- La Bouche, Sweet Dreams (covered by Marilyn Manson)
- Bobby Womack, If You Think You're Lonely Now, Wait Until Tonight (covered by K-Ci of Jodeci)
- The Beatles, Yesterday (covered by Boyz II Men)
- The Spinners, Sadie (covered by R. Kelly)
- Brian McKnight, Back At One (covered by John Michael Montgomery)
- Percy Sledge, When A Man Loves A Woman (covered by Michael Bolton)
- Bonnie Tyler, Eclipse of the Heart (covered by One Direction)
- Kanye West, Heartless (covered by Kris Allen)
- Neil Diamond, I'm A Believer (covered by Smash Mouth)
Greater Than
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Growing Pains
I warily look behind in fear of
Soaring across the cafeteria like Superman again
Or worse yet, getting beaten up in the boys' dressing room
after PE.
The bullies have taken my mother-prepared lunch:
A cold turkey and cheese sandwich laced in mustard,
The only potato chips we could afford to scrounge up
that week,
One severely shaken, warmed-over chocolate milk, seeing
As quarters are golden coins.
I peek outside a narrow window. No one
In sight. However, the instant I lean into the
Shelter, Chris and Michael stretch my poor little
Rag-and-bone structure, and moments later I lie
motionless
Enhanced by trance
Still, I trudge home again because this is the second time
this week
I missed the yellow
School bus with broken glasses, no lunch, and a missing
algebra book
awaiting the stars
My bottom will receive for C's, worse than coach's "Ol' Blue."
I loathe the thought of Nabholz aiming directly
At the dark, narrow can for yet another round of battle.
The Land of the Blind (after Heffernan)
"In the land of the blind
A River Merchant's Wife: A Letter of Infidelity
straightened
You and I dreamed big, slept very little,
You were Mister Right, opening truck doors
Pulling me over next to you in mockery of those
country people
We went on quiet Tuesday night dates:
Two were we, without sarcasm or distrust.
Six months later I was proposed to:
A week later I moved into your loft.
Wondering, "Why did I do it"
Naive, I strove on.
Since you left me I've cried nine days,
Eight hours, and forty-seven minutes.
How could you? That gutter whore, of all
whores?
Everybody's had her, yet
She used to be my best friend -
Back when you were my man, but now...
You can have each other. I found my blue
ballpoint pen.
Fuck both of you, you're nothing.