The Arrival

and I'm in there!!!

So the move has been completed.  I arrived in Maryland on Wednesday afternoon.  Been spending the last few days getting situated.  So far, I'm very excited about the potential, and even have some information on a possible job!!  Hopefully this begins to work out well.  Today, I'm planning to go out and enjoy the sites and sounds of our nation's capital.  Hopefully some pictures will be forthcoming (not sure where the camera is, or if it's even been packed).  But once again, the arrival went smoothly, and I'm only expected great things.  Much love to my family and friends.  I miss you all dearly.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

The Journeyman Begins Walking

I have loved this little small town for many reasons and for many years.  But there has always been something within me that felt a desire for bigger, livelier things.  And so, finally I seek to calm this restlessness that's in my spirit.  It is leading me somewhere, to a final destination, that I hope will bring me peace.  The road is not completely known to me, but it feels like I'm finally moving towards the right direction.

First stop, Maryland.  Next stop, happiness.

There are several amazing people that I have to leave behind in the process.  Know that I carry you each with me, for you have touched me in a way that has shaped my life.

And so, the journey begins.

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning.  ~Ivy Baker Priest

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Hello? Hello? Is Anybody There?

I've been doing so much lately, which all ultimately seems like not nearly enough.  That combination has led to stress and what I like to call stress sickness.  This is where you're constantly going, perhaps a bit too fast, so your body, in all of its infinite wisdom, decides to throw some real illness symptoms on you, in an effort to get you to slow down.  The idea behind this is to force rest.   Of course, the body fails to understand that those of us who are constantly in motion, either physically or mentally, never both with rest.  We simply over-medicate and keep going.  So it's possible the Dayquil, three packets of Thera-Flu, and two teaspoons of Robitussin were all for naught.  But I digress.

This sudden bout with temporary illness has succeeded in forcing me to take a moment's rest.  It has caused my to lie down, which naturally invokes wonder.  I have taken this opportunity to think about some things.  How I want to change the world but can barely function in it long enough before it feels like I need to surrender.  How I want to become a better person without losing my sense of self.  How I love the things I love and hate the things I hate, but often find myself wishing there was more.  How sometimes I get so caught up in what I'm doing or trying to do, that I forget to simply be.  In these moments, I wish I could get a phone call from within, from that hidden voice of reason, telling me everything's okay.

Hello?  Hello? Is anybody there?

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Channeling Voices

Dee Matthews, you are simply fantastic!!!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Just a Bit of Randomness (Maybe)

"Even angels have their wicked schemes,

       and you take that to new extremes,

                        but you'll always be my hero, even though

                       you've lost your mind.........."

This line, from the song Love the Way You Lie, really stabs at me.  I can hear it being spoken to me.  By too many different voices.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Some Words Herded Through My Mind

Elephant

when she was 12 years old

and guiltless, far too

innocent to decipher wrong

in nocturnal caresses,

rushed kisses converted into

sandpaper against her skin,

that was when her

tragedy started,

her inability to say no, a wild-eyed elephant,

stampeded the confines

of her girlish bedroom

it is hard to hide an elephant in closets,

hard to impress boys when it

chases you home from school,

never easy to explain

that the bottles of sleeping pills and booze

are the only way to make

a hide that big

completely numb

she had mastered overlooking

enormous shadows,

so much so

that it left her surprised,

the elephant,

too many years later,

sitting tuxedoed on the second row pew,

trunk extended like pre-teen leg,

trembling

and waiting to wear the garter

unsure of how to make it go

she simply said ‘I do’

and now it’s a part of her, massive,

like fears that he will leave her,

the unknowing husband, who never seems to notice it,

sitting at the foot of their queen sized dilemma,

tusks pointed, spear-like, anticipating his advance,

eyeing him as it would any

ivory hunter,

it doesn’t care that he’s never once hit her

it doesn’t care that, more than measurements, he

weighed her from within,

even waited, to fully seek her, on their wedding night,

but any honeymoon suite suffers

with 2 tons of anxiety in its bed

and yet he comforts her

each time that she flinches,

tells her he loves her, though it manages

to trample over the words,

and at night, she barely sleeps

too shaken by

thunderous footsteps that resound

like confessions for sins:

no’s that still go unheard

the ladies in the neighborhood

that go jogging with her

never seem to notice the bulge in her

pocket

it is sitting there, watching,

movements and strangers,

listening for noises,

preparing to charge,

the elephant knows what they don’t know,

what her 12 year old flesh was

forced to find out

too often

things die without sound

The Journeyman Nods His Head

Highway 30

At two in the morning, when the moon

has driven away,

leaving the faint twilight of one star

at the horizon, a light

like moonlight leaks

from broken crates that lie fallen

along the highway, becoming

motels, all-night cafes, and bus stations

with greenhouse windows,

where lone women sit like overturned flowerpots,

crushing the soft, gray petals of old coats.

—Ted Kooser

Picture It, Rare (Apr. 14, 2011)

Okay, so it's not Wednesday.  But I've been meaning to post a new set of awesome photos.  I am beginning to doubt that I'll get readers to consistently send in their own photographs.  But then again, that will never deter me.  There is a poetic beauty in that which we see, which makes me flock to amazing pictures.  Hopefully, you all will appreciate them as well.

Yet another set of interesting photos that caught my attention and created thoughts within my mind.  As previously noted, I do not own the rights to any of these photographs.  They are a collection gained from perusing sites such as Flickr and Google Images.  If any owner has a problem with me using their photo, please email me and I will remove it immediately.  Hopefully, the beauty of sharing is not lost on any of you.  Enjoy another great night and, as you do, try your best to picture it rare!!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

The Even Though It's Not Tuesday Groove, Apr. 14, 2011

Yes, I'm well aware that it is now Thursday.  And yet it's been far too long since I've posted some music.  So welcome to the even though it's not Tuesday groove.  Some great songs, simply one day later than usual.  Hopefully it's enjoyed.  Since I haven't posted in a while, here are SIX groovy tunes for your listening pleasure!!

Frank Ocean --- Novacane

Yes, he's often associated with perhaps one of the most controversial groups to hit the hip-hop scene since the Wu-Tang Clan (Google OFWGKTA).  But Frank Ocean is a lot more than that.  He's a songwriter for such huge acts as John Legend, Brandy, and yes, Justin Bieber.  He has the type of voice and lyrics that R&B music is in desperate need of.  If you're sick of all the Trey Songz music on the radio, then you should definitely give Frank Ocean a listen.  The lyrics to this particular song are that superb blend between witty truth and intense storytelling that makes it an instant favorite.  Plus the music is addictive.

Cee-Lo Green --- Brighter Lights, Bigger City

From Goodie Mob to Gnarls Barkley, Cee-Lo has been making great music for several years.  His latest solo project, The Lady Killer, is a testament to his ability to make much appreciated mainstream music, and still not abandon his own unique sense of style and sound.  This is just one of the many songs from the album that I am grooving to lately.

Diddy Dirty Money --- Last Night Pt. 2

Personally, I was one of those people who became sick of all the Making the Band reality shows.  Of course, I still watched them.  Sean 'Diddy' Combs has an energy about him that makes Burger King commercials seem like important events.  And it is this larger-than-life persona that adds so much appeal to this group.  Plus, in my opinion, he's come a LONG way with his vocals.  This particular song is an immense upgrade to the song "Last Night", the top 10 single, featuring Keyshia Cole, from Diddy's last solo album, Press Play.

Carlos St. John --- Building My Empire

Most people still have no clue who Carlos St. John is.  Which only means that when he's in the upper echelon of the hip-hop world, I can tell people I was onto him years ahead of the game.  This song's hook is so hypnotic, and it speaks to everyone who's ever had a dream that's bigger than others can imagine.

Warpaint --- Elephants

This Los Angeles quartet of fierce ladies exploded on the scene in early 2009 with an experimental rock sound that impressed several members of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  Fueled by their promising debut album, The Fool, Warpaint is sure to turn some heads in the near future.

Skylar Grey --- Love the Way You Lie (Original Demo)

If you ask most people who Holly Brook Haffermann is, you'll probably receive a blank stare.  But asking about Skylar Grey, the 25 yr old singer-songwriter's stage name, will suddenly produce quite the buzz.  Following major collaborations with Eminem, Diddy-Dirty Money, and Dr. Dre, Skylar is set to be a major pop sensation.  Here is the song that her writing skills helped culminate in a Song of the Year Grammy.  Personally, I prefer this version to Rihanna's.


---

So there you have it.  A diverse group of amazing musicians.  Hopefully, you enjoy them as much as I do.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

With Pending Change, Comes a New Look

At the beginning of this, I told all interested readers that the look of this blog would change constantly.  While it hasn't been the weekly metamorphosis I anticipated, lately the pages have endured quite a few makeovers.  I think this merely reflects the drastic makeover going on within me.  Most days, I feel like an empty canvas.  After one or two strokes, I feel a need to start all over again.  But, masterpieces aren't created overnight.  So I'll continue on.  If the look of this area goes through a few alterations in the process, I simply hope it's all for the better.  And that the visual changes don't ever affect the content.

I do wish that I posted more.  And that more people took an interest to those things that I do share.  Perhaps these wishes will be granted in time.

Shaking the Dust

Today, a timer started ticking within me.  It is a countdown to an upcoming moment in my life.  Soon, I will be exiting the place where I currently reside.  From that point, the journey begins.

While the previously written lines are very literal in meaning, there is also a bit of the figurative nestled within the mix.  In a few short weeks, I will be starting over.  Making the move from the confines of Hamlet, NC, and beginning anew in Maryland, a few short miles from the nation's capital.  Nervousness does not come close to describing these leaps that I already feel occurring within me.  In one moment, I am giddy from all the excitement, but suddenly troubled by an accompanying sadness, in the next.  Leaving always means that something gets left behind.

My family immediately comes to my mind, because each member will be dearly missed.  Two very special members of my family must be mentioned.  My mother, Mary, has instilled so much in me.  She is one of those rare people whose good and gentle spirit seems to shimmer within every feature of her face.  Luckily, I share most of these facial features, and will seek them each morning, via mirrors.  And then, there is my son, Solace, who leaving will be the most difficult.  It is only because of what I want to be able to give him that I can even consider such a thing.  His mere existence fuels my determination, and therefore I strive to make him proud to be called my son.

Added to the list of special people who I will miss are those friends who have been with me through thick and thin.  Though you are few in number, the amazing moments we’ve spent together reverberate many, many times over.  I carry each one of you with me.

A large part of me will even miss this small town.  I am thankful to Hamlet, NC for teaching me many things about myself.  While my dreams have always felt too large for its borders, the life I’ve lived here has allowed me to forever remain grounded.  I appreciate the little things more.  I understand how the brilliance of a few meaningful connections outshines even the brightest lights.  I will not forget these things.

And so, the moment approaches.  Soon, I will stand upon the platform, awaiting the approaching train.  When it arrives, I will take the necessary steps to leave behind a chapter in my life, and open the book on a new beginning.  I no longer fear failure.  Failing is only an invitation to regroup and try again.  It isn’t failure that is akin to death, but instead never trying.  This moment that approaches is my try.  I plan to make the best of it.

During this journey, I will be shaking the dust.  It has accumulated for far too long.  For years, I’ve felt as if I’ve been standing behind a curtain, refusing to place my feet in front of me and walk out onto my life’s main stage.  Dust begins building in those dark, covered places.  For too long, my entire existence has felt so dark and covered.  Being unable and being unwilling are two different drapes that, in time, are easily mistaken.  I am no longer willing to be unwilling.  My ability will no longer be hindered by circumstance.  I am taking this life of mine for a spin.  Hopefully, I finally start enjoying the ride.

The countdown has started.  Goodbye to the many joys that I’ll miss, as well as the remarkable people who made them possible.  I hope that we meet again one day soon.  Hello to new possibilities, echoed by the nomadic beatings of my dream-filled heart.  I will let this rhythm be my guide.  The dust has finally cleared.  The journey is now in motion.  Not all the destinations have been determined, but the final stop is happiness.  As I picture the train pulling into the station, my soul screams out, in delight.  All aboard!!!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Just a Bit of Randomness (Maybe)

Far too many, indeed.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

An Attention Whore? Who Me?

The following post is a copy of something that I wrote about 3 years ago, taken from my Myspace blog at the time.  My, how my blogging skills have evolved!!  Lol.  But I love the content of this post because it's interesting to see exactly where I was mentally and to compare how I've changed now.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Confessions of An Attention Whore
Current mood:  Exposed....Not Like That, Nasty!
Category:  Writing and Poetry

About two hours ago, I started writing this.  A computer error and me not being smart enough to save what I wrote, and I'm back to it again, so this time it will be simpler:

I love attention.  It's easy to say that, but hard to explain, because already I'm sure you don't understand.  Not attention in the sense of being in the spotlight, known by everyone....that's nice, but eventually, it fades away.  Gets boring actually or maybe I'm just strange.  But the attention I like is special.  Unadulterated.  Specific, and oh, so addictive!  

I'm laughing right now, because this seems like the beginning of a bad novel.  But it's true.  I remember being this awkward, quiet teenage boy, who most girls never noticed, or simply ignored.  And now?  Lol.  I'm this awkward but amazingly confident young man, who most women never notice.  Until they hear my whisper and then they seem hooked. 

This is not an ego thing.  

People who know me realize I'm far too purposely modest (does that make sense...lol) to even have an ego.  But I'm also very aware of myself.  All the faults, and strangely all the charms.  I could be a master charmer, a notorious manipulator.  You know that man you love to hate (or hate to love, depending on the situation).  Usually I choose not to be that person, not because of some moral awareness, but mainly because it takes too much effort, and I'm usually disinterested by choice. 

But the women I draw seem to have an innate ability to wake my interest, and heighten it.  Then they make it a mission it seems: make Marcus want me.  Which, ironically, isn't complicated.  If you're attractive and have personality, mixed in with a little intrigue, then my nature is to be interested....it's unfortunate because a couple women (including one who now owns my heart) have ended up hurt because of my need to run to the attention.  Of course most of these "intriguing" women don't realize:  attention doesn't last.  I lose interest in the attention eventually, until the next form of attention comes along. 

This is why I call myself an attention whore.  Because I profit from it. 

I feed off the rush.  There is something interesting about knowing a person is focusing all their energy on you.  And it's funny because even when the attention is negative, such as anger or hate, there's still this small amount of satisfaction.  But in my own uniqueness, there's even more interest and intrigue in watching a person try to make you want them.  And the types of women I attract are truly outrageous but also talented in their methods and abilities.  Surprisingly the only thing that weakens them is my nonchalant approach to them.  I'm rambling now, and this is turning slowly into an essay on the psychological differences between men and women.  Lol.  I don't want that, so I'll end with this. 

My confession as an attention whore:  some days I love it, crave it, live for it, run towards it, and use it as a crutch.  Like most people who are human.  My thing is that on other days, I hate it, because I've been guilty of using it for destruction. 

This is going to be blunt, so if you've endured this far, brace yourself...lol 

Imagine if a whore (you know, fucks for money), realized that sex could go beyond just being used for money, but instead to mold people and their behavior.  Make them act according to their need for it.  Now imagine that same whore is addicted to orgasms.  (Lol, sorry, I had to laugh at that…I digress)  Now imagine he or she has mastered molding and manipulating behaviors over the years.  Not purposely, but because of lots of experience.  And imagine the addiction has increased.  Picture that whore trying to balance the manipulation with the addiction.

Over the years, sexually intense females became my manipulation.
Their attention became my orgasm.
And now here I am, drained from the experience of it all, and the most incredible woman I've ever met added to the whole equation love. 

Sound complicated? lol.....these are my confessions (sort of)

(upon rereading this, I'm so glad the computer error took place.....this feels so much more complete than what I'd started earlier....I love how this is written....lol...couldn't be modest about it this time) 

----

That was three years ago.  So much has changed since then.  I have changed since then.  Not to say that I am no longer interested in attention, but I no longer whore for it.  It doesn’t motivate nor does it control.  Since writing the above post I have stepped into the ring with Love and sparred several rounds, trading meaningful blows, only to be knocked out in the later rounds.  I've dusted myself off since that experience, attempted to learn the things I was supposed to learn, and continually try to move on from it as a better, more capable man.  While I am still confident in my ability to charm, I'd gladly trade it earnestly for the capacity to receive and reciprocate permanent love.

I have also become a father.  To a son, no less.  And that man wants his son to appreciate a woman’s beautiful soul more than her attention.  Because if he does so, then any attention she gives him will be treasured, and therefore much better.

I still notice the intoxicating smiles.  I still see those eyes that make my curiosity whisper.  And there is still that perfect hint of ample flesh that drives my desires into fifth gear.  But there is wisdom underlying all of that.  The kind of wisdom you only get from making all the mistakes.  I look for the woman beneath the smile.  Try to see her intentions within those eyes.  I want a personality that can touch me in a more pleasing way than any skin can.  And eventually, I want to tie it all together with a sincere and undying love.  Attention can’t compete with all of that.

I’ve come remarkably close in my lifetime.  Met many amazing women, some who have moved my heart in ways they will never be able to imagine.  But for now, the search continues.  When I find her, I’ll know.  Until then, I simply look and smile.  Occasionally, I’m excited.  Does that make me an attention whore?  Not likely.

Rare Spotlight: Lisa Unger

Welcome to the Rare Spotlight, a place to shine light on those rare gems that illuminate the world, unnoticed. They are poets. They are artists. They are singers. They are musicians. They are visionaries molding beauty against the backdrops of their passions. They are beautiful, and we should pay attention. Welcome to the Rare Spotlight.

Not long ago, I sent out an ambitious email, addressed to one of my favorite authors, thanking her for enriching me with her amazing words.  I also made a request, but didn't expect a reply.  Picture my 8-year-old-on-Christmas-morning expression in that moment when the first email came.  Not only had this author responded, showing appreciation for my interests in her work and support, but she also agreed to the request.  And so, this spotlight was born.

It gives me an immense amount of pleasure to present the Spotlight that is forthcoming.  As a fan, I view the featured writer as one of those rare gems whose words leave me glued to the page.  As an aspiring writer, I extend her respect and gratitude, because she is a beacon to that place that I strive to reach.  I am in awe, in this remarkable moment that I have been given, and hope that I do it the justice it deserves.  Here goes.

Lisa Unger was born in New Haven, Connecticutt, in 1970, but grew up in the Netherlands, England, and New Jersey.  A graduate of the New School for Social Reseach, she spent a number of years living and working in New York City.  She eventually left a career in publicity to pursue her dream of becoming a full-time author.  She currently resides in Florida, with her husband and daughter.

From a reader's perspective, Mrs. Unger is a master of words.  I can't begin to note all of the times that I read through her words, greatly pleased and desiring more.  Her plots are rich and intense, carried at a pace that will keep any reader on edge, thirsting for the next twist or turn.  Although I will not include an excerpt of her work, I adamantly suggest that all who love a great read to seek Mrs. Unger's works out. 

I must add that I was a bit skeptical about contacting an author of Mrs. Unger's stature.  In most of our minds, it seems that a New York Times best-seller would understandably be far too busy to offer this her attention and time.  But Mrs. Unger quelled any predispositions that I had, and proved to be both amiable and willing to help.  I offer her my deepest thanks for this, and hope she understands what it means to me.  If I am fortunate enough to be a writer in her position, her example will be held within my mind.

It is my esteemed pleasure to shed spotlight on one of my favorite authors, Mrs. Lisa Unger.

Questions

1) Name

Lisa Unger

2) Current City/Hometown

Tampa Bay Area, Florida

3) Right now, you are (literally).....

Drinking coffee in my office, finally answering the questions you sent me too long ago!

4) When did you fall in love with writing?

I don't remember a time before I defined myself as a writer, so I'm not sure I fell in love.  I suspect I was born with the need to write.  It's a congenital condition, rather than a love affair ... happily, no escape.

5) Describe yourself in one paragraph

It might be impossible to describe myself in one paragraph.  But I'll say I'm a mother first, a wife, always a writer at my core.  I am in love with my life and dwell most often in a place of gratitude.  I am nourished by family and friends, travel, books (naturally), physical activity, great food.  I am depleted by the internet, stress, pressures internal and external.  But mainly, I'm kind of a happy, normal girl who is very grateful to make my living doing what I love.  

6) Five years ago, you were.....

a new mom, struggling to find a balance between the two most consuming creative endeavors of my life!  Five years later, some semblance of balance has been achieved (most days) ... of course, it always tips in favor of my daughter who is the sun and the moon.

7) Five years from now, you want to be.....

As happy and healthy as I am today.

8) Your entire day is ruined unless you can.....

I am not sure any one thing has the power to ruin my day.  But I will say I am happiest when I feel like I wrote well, spent great time with my daughter and my husband, and managed to get some exercise. That's a perfect day!

9) If you were a color, which would you be, and why? (Lol..I had to throw in  one of these type questions)

I'm my daughter's favorite color: Rainbow!

10) One moment in your life, when you were the proudest

The day my daughter told me that when she grows up she wants to be a "mommy writer."

11) One moment in your life, which you regret most

No regrets. Never look back.

12) Write whatever you feel

Thanks so much for thinking of me and including me in your blog!  It means a lot that you reached out to me. 

13) Links/websites/places where the readers can check out your work

Everything you never knew you wanted to know about me can be found at: www.lisaunger.com  The best way to keep connected with me is to like me at www.facebook.com/authorlisaunger.  I'm doing lots of giveaways there through the new hardcover release in August of DARKNESS, MY OLD FRIEND.

Again, I say thank you to Mrs. Unger.  You are truly an incredible author whose works have entertained, inspired, and influenced me beyond words.  I look forward to reading many, many more.

Readers would greatly benefit from clicking on one of the links included above.  It will begin your journey into the world of a woman who is not only an amazing writer, but a truly rare person indeed.  Enjoy!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Monday Oh So Dope Award, Apr. 04,2011 (The Return of the Dopeness!!)

I haven't done the Monday Oh So Dope Award in quite some time, which is surprising to me.  I am constantly finding things that I think are clever, insightful, and just down right dope!!  (Yes, I was born in the '80s.  Dope will always mean "cool"!!)

It's National Poetry Month, and I found an amazing site (well, more like rediscovered), that has given me some amazing writing prompts to use.  Rachel McKibbens is one of my favorite spoken word artists, and by far the dopest mom I have come across in a long time.  Need some evidence of Rachel's dopeness?  Check this Def Poetry performance out (with then husband, George):




So freakin' dope!!

Just like her blog, which contains enough spectacular writing and poetry exercises to make budding writers foam at the mouth.  Rachel is a prime example of why we should toss the old adage "Those who can't, teach."  She is a masterful teacher, in an art form that she clearly commands.  Oh so dope, Ms. McKibbens, oh so dope, indeed!!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

The Beauty of Different

Once again from wandering the blogosphere, I have discovered something profound.  Chookooloonks is one of my new favorites, full of beautiful insight through the words and photographs of Karen Walrond.  A former engineer and lawyer, Karen has won several awards, is a highly sought keynote speaker, and has been featured on Oprah and CNN.

She is also a published author.  Her book, the Beauty of Different, is a stunning combination of Karen's remarkable eye joined together with a gift of story-telling that with make all readers gush with appreciation.  Certainly a must read.  I found this introductory video on the book's page and my mind was immediately pushed adrift, a raft of thought floating slowly out to sea.




I would love to say that I have always celebrated those things that make me different, but that would be a lie. I had to grow into this.  Cry a few nights, because I didn't understand.  I had to open my eyes and see me.  But now, I am enamored with my differences.  I champion the fact that they're all a collection of little things that set me apart from everyone else.  And now, I see them as beautiful whereas, for too many years, I believed them to be flaws.  I hope that everyone can find it in them, to savor those things that make you unique.  As Karen superbly states in the video, we are all uniquely, breathtakingly beautiful.  And that should be reason enough for a smile.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

National Poetry Month

I'm amazed that I haven't posted in April yet, since this is one of my favorite months of the year.  April is National Poetry Month, which means that most poets are currently sprouting forth words at rapid pace.  It is a time to come together and celebrate the power of poetry.  I am currently participating in three 30/30s  (30 poems in 30 days).  It is such a motivating time period, and perhaps only second to NaNoWriMo (which I will also be participating in this year) in output of words.  So to all you lovers of poetry, search around this month.  I am sure you will find many delightful poems that inspire and entertain.  Here's the first poem that I wrote this month:

Write Fresh

my cupboard is bare, my soul longs

to eat, got to

make it to the storehouse

on malnourished feet,

so I can feast

on line upon line,

I been starving!

it’s high time that I was fed,

I need something

sublime,

a little

food for thought, I need

vittles for my mind,

need

something that’s gonna get me

through this trying lifetime,

where far too many

sit hungry,

desolation carving emptiness

through lives

with no warning,

hope my words can be substance

‘til the broken

find their spoon,

‘cause all our souls could use a bit

of better eatin’ soon,

and so

I write fresh

 [End Poem]

National Poetry Month!!  Here is to an amazing April!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet