Tag Archives: Rachel McKibbens

So I haven’t been around for awhile…

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I know… about two weeks without a post. Shame on me. It’s been a trying couple of weeks or so. Let’s start with the fact that my hours were cut in half at work. Yeah, I was poor before… I’m po, now. So it’s been a lot of resume submissions, and interviews. I’m looking at getting back into working with the developmentally disabled. It’s a field I enjoyed working in, and I was pretty good at what I did. We’ll see what happens. 

Add to this the fact that my father had a quadruple bypass last week. Waiting to see if your father makes it out of surgery is an experience I would not wish on anyone. Sitting in a waiting room pretending our lives are normal while a family member is having veins and arteries re-arranged in their body is a soul chilling experience. I’ve been trying to write about it… and it’s coming. At its own pace, it’s coming. 

And, yes… I always have my hand in something poetry related. Working on a few new pieces, and I’m trying to memorize three pieces for the upcoming Grand Slam to send one person from Writers’ Block to the Individual World Poetry Slam. Yes… I’m still trying. Yes, I’m probably still going to end up dead last… but what the hell. I’m a poetic masochist. But, damn it… I’m going to perform off the paper. I’m going to give these pieces every bit of performance they deserve. And I’m leaving there that night with my head held high, come hell, high water or low slam scores. 

I’m still trying to remind myself that I have something to say… that I have a talent as a poet. It’s tough, especially when I hear all of the talented people in Columbus. It is doubly true when I hear from features such as Theresa Davis or Rachel McKibbens. I just saw Rachel perform tonight. She brought tears to my eyes on more than one occasion during her feature. She’s so powerful… so eloquent and honest and heartbreaking. So… everything that I am not. Makes me wonder what I have in me, sometimes. What makes me unique… what makes me worth listening to. What my “So what” factor is.

I’m still looking. Maybe someday, I will find it. 

The Deadly Sins of Dieting (From a Rachel McKibbens Prompt)

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I don’t typically publish my poems online; but every once in awhile, I like to share. This is based off of a Rachel McKibbens prompt she gave during last month’s NaPoMO 30/30. It was to write a series of vignettes based on the seven Deadly Sins. This is my take on it. Hope you enjoy.

 

I.

The magazines pile up.

A dozen different diets and

the same slim bodies on the covers.

Same hourglass waist, same

tan, tones muscles.

Same self-satisfied smile.

I call bullshit on the “Lose 8 pounds

a week while dieting only 2 days!”

I wonder what I need get at the store to start that?

I look for my last pair of fat jeans.

 

II.

That bitch in front of me has to be

a size-Motherfucking-2.

And eating Twinkies.

I’ll fucking show her what she can do with those

Goddamn twinkies!

She’ll wish she were Tallahassee with an ass load of Zombies

ready to chew after I shove an entire box in her pie-hole!

AND a Dr. Pepper!

FUCK!

 

If ever I wanted someone to get a sugar-coma–

If ever I wanted to run somebody down with a Hostess

Truck– just for the irony–

If I ever wanted to find Richard-fucking-Simmons

and yell “YOU’RE WRONG YOU MANOREXIC LITTLE BASTARD!”

It’s right now.

I want a fucking twinkie.

 

III.

I want twinkies AND ice cream.

Butter Pecan.

I want a pizza tonight.

I want to use my Belly Dancing workout DVD

as a coaster for my Yoo-Hoo.

I want to Google the recipe for deep-fried twinkies–

I just  know you can make those at home.

I want an extra large pizza–

pepperoni and onion.

I want the fancy butter pecan ice cream.

 

IV.

I really don’t want to clean the vomit off the floor.

Damn, that’s a lot of twinkie wrappers.

How many pieces of pizza are left?

Oh… now I know why I have to clean vomit up off the floor.

Time to crawl into bed.

 

V.

You know what? No, I’m not a size nuthin,

but I don’t have to eat my knuckles after eating

a sandwich.

Society cares too much about looks,

they should respect… my MIND.

I don’t care if I lose any more weight.

And if people don’t want to look at me–

fuck ’em.

I’m happy.

Yes.

And I won’t stop being happy, either.

 

VI.

Shit, son! Two pounds lost!

Damn, I can buy that new blouse,

but I’m going to need a new skirt, too…

A-Line. Or maybe dressy little peddle pushers and sandals.

Ooh… maybe some LINGERIE.

Hell, it’s got to be raining somewhere,

I wonder how much is in my savings account?

 

VII.

Hey, baby.

Yes, this is new lingerie.

No, I wasn’t expecting to keep it on for long.

Honey, can I be on top?

I hear it burns more calories.