#NaPoWriMo Day 14: An Open Letter to An Evil/Misguided/Idiot

*Every nose is from Vanity Fair Magazine which I never subscribed to nor wanted, but came when I ordered the New Yorker, then tried to collect from me when I unsubscribed from the New Yorker (So much disappointment).

Odd how I suddenly understand collage. I don’t mean to keep doing collages, but I get inspired.

Also odd, how noses with only eyebrows look like goat heads in a bad way.

A to Z Challenge

largo – very slow
ledger lines – a short line written above or below a staff to extend the staff beyond the five lines for very high or low notes.
legato – play smoothly
lento – slow

NaPoWriMo

Prompt: “think about your own inspirations and forebears (whether literary or otherwise). Specifically, I challenge you today to write a poem that deals with the poems, poets, and other people who inspired you to write poems.”

I had a day. It was not the best. I have anger. So I sat and thought and journaled about how anger influenced my poetry. In the past, I even wrote a song called Make Me Angry. Lyrics: Make Me Angry/Give Me Fuel/ Don’t Be Afraid/ I Know What I’m Doing . . . And Then The Dogs Made Me Angry.
It’s an honest, but nonsensical song because in real life I either shut down or cry when I get really angry, but it does fuel my creativity.

PAD Challenge

Prompt: pick a state (or province, territory, etc.), make it the title of your poem

The Poem

Don’t Put Your Face On The Seattle, WA Coffee

To the young adult male blocking the coffee
pulling each bag to his cheek and nose
pretending to smell it and  putting it back
then looking at your phone

You are a psychopath and you are seen

Not only by me who ventured out in mask and gloves
for the first time in six weeks
nor by the bots on the internet you
so desperately need to impress
to the point of attempted murder

You are seen by the universe

Some day, maybe not so far away
you’re gonna know that
Karma’s a bitch

Maybe, in the night, you will feel an itch
and you will be covered in tiny black ants
They take a liking to you and never leave
and you get this feeling that you’re being followed
You are, but it’s never the same person
so no one believes you

Then your identity is stolen by so many different people–
one for every bag you nosed–
Now, you don’t even know who the real you is anymore

You can’t ever get credit
You are guilty of crimes you could never commit
You are homeless and starving and can’t even get a cup of coffee

Think of it
You would die
for a cup
of coffee

That is what you so stupidly did
to your neighbors today
in the grocery store

Though they were innocent
They may die
for a cup of coffee