I Hate Poetry: The Buddah Moskowitz Archive
"These aren't poems. They're more like speeches from a movie that will never be made."
Pages
Monday, May 22, 2023
Pandemic Hoodie
Thursday, November 17, 2022
The Undercover Chicano Speaks (Day 17 Prompt: Risk)
of White racism
I see
two distinct reactions:
first,
there is hard hatred
against Black skin
and those who
inhabit it,
the blacker the skin,
the more virulent
the animus, and
there is soft hatred
against those
who are off-white,
of which I am
one.
as dark as others,
I do not endure the same
wrath as they do,
but don't think
this is any kind
fair-skinned,
the White racists
sometimes forget
that I am non-White
who they really are
and I can test
in real-time
whether their
words and actions
align
into ethical integrity.
is a blessing,
and the finding
is often a curse,
Wednesday, November 16, 2022
The Best English Teacher I Ever Knew (unprompted)
that Bob Tomes
was the best English teacher
I ever knew
because he was
encouragring
to the point of
indulging me
and my unreachable dream
of being a playwright.
and didn't take himself
too seriously
and let his students
do the same.
he treated me like
a peer,
an equal,
-which I
clearly
was not-
but this led me
to believe
someday
I could become
someone he read
and admired.
Yes, so if I felt this
way about him
as a student,
I can only imagine
have been to be
his son.
for your loss, Jay,
and I'm also sorry
I didn't get a chance
to say these things
to your dad
before he died."
Tuesday, November 15, 2022
No Poem (For D'Verse Prompt)
No future
no past
no hunger
no fast
no sadness
no joy
no girl
no boy
no music
no silence
no kindness
no violence
no blessing
no hex
no longing
no sex
no this
no that
no dog
no cat
no one
no call
no nothing
that’s all.
[Posted for https://dversepoets.com/2022/11/15/no-vember/ ]
Monday, November 14, 2022
Playwright Story (Day 14 prompt: "blank" Story)
I wanted to be a playwright
which gave me the first taste of
playing God,
fixing the problems
in my real life with
imaginary characters.
My plays had great
dialogue
but terrible plotlines
because I could never figure out
how to end the story.
I just liked being
in the moment
one person
communing,
communicating
with another.
I tried five times
and finally quit
and this is why
I am here
doing this
now.
I no longer
play God
nor do I want to,
and I am
ever surprised
by the endings
written for me.
x
Sunday, November 13, 2022
The Sign-Off (Day 13: didn't write to prompt)
before the existence of
the 24-hour broadcast day,
television represented
a stable world to me.
when the stations
tape operators
playing the
about the end of broadcast day
to see it,
it was oddly comforting
to hear the sermonette
and them the Star-Spangled Banner
then came
the unceremonious
to the rest of the world
again
until the
next broadcast day.
Saturday, November 12, 2022
56 Days in the Time Machine (Prompt 12: Time/Future)
starting November 12
and ending January 6
I allow myself
to linger in the
time machine of
Christmas music.
lifelong continuities
still comforting
this solitary soul,
with visions of warmth,
togetherness and love.
places long forgotten
and things I thought were important,
softly bubble up through
my memory like a slowly
cooking stew.
and remember
where I was,
who I was
and am thankful
for this awareness
and the familiar glow
of hopefulness at
Christmastime.
Friday, November 11, 2022
The Uncontrollable Teardrop (Day 11 prompt: fear)
secret,
we broadcast it
by our avoidance.
the uncontrollable teardrop.
strong
in-control
impenetrable,
when we fail,
then comes the deluge,
untamed and embarrassing.
will not survive
without a radical rethink
of male tears.
One properly placed
teardrop
might be all it takes
to bring down the
patriarchy.
Why do you think
The Male Code
is so strongly guarded?
Tears make us
human,
and humanity makes us equal,
and there is no hierarchy,
no property ownership,
no power differential
in humanity.
The uncontrollable teardrop
can change us
from machines back into
people again.
Thursday, November 10, 2022
The Struggle to Walk over Burning Coals (Day 10 prompt: Struggle)
to walk over burning coals
when we do not expect it
we don't accept things
as they are.
Life is difficult
when we fight
fate
we have no control over.
to resist the
will of the universe,
the will of
something greater,
plan for a struggle.
what you have
and most of the struggles
Wednesday, November 09, 2022
The Nose of the Matter (Day 9 Prompt: Blank of the Blank)
when I emerge from the shower,
hair wet and thinning
in the mirror:
the big, unforced smile,
the shnozzola.
and with every day
I am happier
about this fact.
Tuesday, November 08, 2022
Kisses (Day 8 prompt: form, haiku)
Monday, November 07, 2022
This Adaptable Heart (Day 7 prompt: Adapt)
as if it was only
an internal perpetual motor
without memory.
sometimes of my own doing,
sometimes it is broken for me-
but it still continues,
hopeful,
encouraging
and unstoppable.
it kept going.
God took my father
it kept beating.
I walked away
defeated
and it never abandoned me.
I fail
and heaped scorn and shame
upon myself,
and yet it is still here.
I lost my wedding band
and I fear it is gone for good.
but it never stopped.
It just kept going while
I took the time
to keep pushing on
while I still can,
still be there,
always helping,
Sunday, November 06, 2022
None of this is New (Day 6 Prompt: News)
Saturday, November 05, 2022
This is Not a Test (Day 5 Prompt: Peril)
THIS IS NOT A REALITY TV SHOW.
THIS IS AN EXISTENTIAL THREAT.
THIS IS NASCENT FASCISM.
Democracy is in peril.
your vote is the great equalizer,
not wealth,
not education,
who wants to take away
your right to vote.
sign in my dentist's office:
ignore your teeth
and they'll go away.
ignore democracy
we do so
at our own
peril.
Friday, November 04, 2022
In the Garage (Day 4 Prompt: In The ...)
in my cannabis haze
in the memory of a love song
in the embrace of my girl
in our 20 year marriage
in a world I never dreamt possible
Thursday, November 03, 2022
Misguided (Day 3 Prompt: Misguided)
about all the misguided souls
in their daily parade
of selfishness, hubris and idiocy
of unassailable
self-righteous justification:
who are intimidating election workers
so that others may not vote,
who want to kill
their presumed replacements,
who think the correct interpretation
can be written and read,
who hide behind guns
and tweet their threats,
in their shoes,
my words
would be
as morally vacuous
as their actions.
as misguided,
then there’s hope,
they are the enemy
then, they must
be eradicated.
who would be
the misguided one?
Wednesday, November 02, 2022
Bittersweet Is My Favorite Flavor (Day 2 Prompt: Sweet)
in its powerful
and life-changing
force
is ultimately
finite:
ripe strawberries
dissolves,
a melody
that recalls a memory
of kindness
fades,
the breathless
post-coital
heart-racing
skin-on-skin warmth
cools.
the fleeting beauty
and venerate the loss
is to miss
the necessity
of their interconnectedness:
only exists
because
the sweet
also exists.
Tuesday, November 01, 2022
Why November (Day 1 Prompt: Start or End Poem)
of loneliness and dialysis,
she left earlier this year
and is finally reunited
and celebrating
Dia de los Muertos
with my father
after 23 years
a widow.
November was
their anniversary month
and it was the start
of my origin story.
I begin the Christmas music,
the gift-buying,
the general nostalgia
for a childhood
that was inevitably
sad, hopeful
but still together.
I calculated this was
the time of the year
I was conceived.
It’s when I started.
I am moving on
more memories,
and an ever-growing list
of things I wish
would come back.
Wednesday, October 26, 2022
Break and Make
for its own growth,
for its own survival
break away
to make a way.
growing,
then you are just
going,
and staying in this old place
for too long
will make you sick.
from that old self,
those old thoughts,
those predictable indulgences.
of the infinite consciousness,
and begin collecting novelties
to assemble into a new self,
a little at a time.
completely trust
The Invisible Inevitable
will bring you
the images
the dreams
the inspirations
necessary
to make yourself anew.
if that doesn’t work,
break it again,
make it again,
break it again,
make it again,
until it feels right.
Tuesday, November 16, 2021
The Soft Core Deep in my Soul
soft core
deep in my soul,
where my shame
and embarrassment live,
and I haven’t been able
to banish him
from who I am.
I’ve covered him
with a shell of
confidence and competence
but he still
endures.
of acting like he wasn’t there
or that he wasn’t
important
are taking their toll.
he is demanding attention,
respect,
and he threatens
to expose my secret
self,
with tears that will not
stay hidden
and feelings that will not
relent.
by these emotions,
unpleasant and embarrassing
as they are.
to float back in memory
to understand his genesis,
but like a dream,
fog-like
it slips away
just when I think
it is within my grasp.
wrong
but he still feels
shame and embarrassment.
I need to make peace
with him.
Tuesday, October 12, 2021
Just Keep Going
after I moved out,
minutes dripped
faucet-like,
agonizing and slow,
and I kept thinking
“she’ll call,
any minute now.”
By the 11 o’clock news
I was resigned,
eyes red and puffy
and I play-acted
normalcy,
pretending to sleep,
realizing this new
world would take time
to become mine.
we’d made
you traded away
for the White guy
who made more money
than me,
and his promise
of a fantasy life
and left me prey
to another woman,
who wore evil intent
like her body splash.
looking for someone
to fulfil her fantasy life
and she thought she’d found it
in me,
but I was just
numbing myself
with her attention
and her pale, freckled bosom.
but she wasn’t going to be
a victim,
and she accused me
of rape.
and again,
predictable thing:
it just kept going.
like the waves on the sand
ever repeating,
ever repairing
ever after.
just kept going,
no respecter
of people,
nor pressure,
nor pain,
the lesson and the secret
that hellish year:
just keep going.
Tuesday, September 28, 2021
He Wore Blue Velvet
They wrapped
the baby
in blue velvet
because he was
a boy.
Now,
he wear pinks
and pastels
and argyle
and gun metal gray
because he is
a man.
[Based on Prompt "What's Your Birthday" - the song is "Blue Velvet" by Bobby Vinton, #1 on September 27, 1963, the day I was born. Thanks to https://dversepoets.com/ for the idea.]
What Falls Away
I find myself
falling apart
easily.
My arms are tired
of trying to hold
myself together.
My body keeps telling me
in aches and groans,
“what are you
holding onto that
for?”
My exhausted brain
unfolds his director’s chair,
squats his weight
upon it and exhales:
“Let it fall away.
This body wasn’t meant
to last forever,
so what makes you think
your will is any stronger?”
I don’t want
to let everything
fall away,
just the
old, flaky, dead
stuff,
which
makes up more of
who I am
every day.
So I’m letting it all
fall away;
if it cannot stay affixed
of its own strength,
then that’s Life saying
I don’t need it.
But still,
way deep down inside
the pilot flame is still lit,
the rhythm still beats,
the juices still flow,
and I realize
the Great Interconnection
as I breathe in
the same air as
Socrates, Jesus and Groucho
and bathe in the same rain
as a delicate hummingbird,
a breathtaking mountain,
the pebbles in the stream.
Help me
to easily let go
of what
I no longer need
and
remain steadfast
and strong
and true
to that which
never falls away.
Friday, September 24, 2021
"What Race are You?"
came to my mother’s door,
kicked it in
and invited us
to accept Jesus
at the tip
of a sword.
What could she do?
They were on a quest,
a holy mission
guided by The Great Commission
and imperialist avarice.
Subjugate,
rinse,
and repeat.
With each new soul,
each hungry, crying mouth,
with every generation,
the original sin
was watered down,
until eventually
there were enough
mestizos
that they qualified
for their own
ethnic checkbox,
their own profile-able
category.
Fast forward
centuries and continents
later…
what is your race?
Father was
a Spanish rapist
a Christian murderer.
Mother was
a humble Indio,
a surviving stoic.
I am not half-White.
I am not half-Indigenous.
I am mixed
and troubled
by my father’s cruelty,
humbled
by my mother’s strength.
My blood is
impure,
and so is
my race.
Thursday, September 23, 2021
Popsicle
between us.
“do you want
to split it?”
I’ll share it.”
I’d eventually
understand.
between
mine and ours,
it informs
my every interaction,
she used
a simple popsicle
to teach me
a profound lesson
in loving.
Wednesday, September 22, 2021
Waiting in the Fog
“you need to write again
and tell everybody where you’ve been.”
I’ve been nowhere in over a year,
cherishing anything safe and dear,
but these thoughts of mine aren’t even clear,
so often I dwell in a cloud of fear.
revisiting places I hadn’t been, and
while many things looked how they used to look,
even the bookstores had fewer books.
like the pandemic was elsewhere in outer space,
except half the people had covered their face.
defiantly ignorant, like nothing was wrong.
year after year, day after day.
My heart ached from all the memory,
and I wanted to go back in history,
be free from this pain
like it used to be,
but my wish went unanswered,
in a fog for a year,
waiting for my spark
to come back around here.
Friday, March 05, 2021
First Impressions Matter
standing in line
The Sound of My Voice
love songs
all day,
but you don't like
the sound of my voice,
to you
in my mind,
you love
the sound of my voice.
Tuesday, February 16, 2021
Disinhibition
of passion,
moistened skin,
400 thread sheet count,
I am happily,
wondrously lost,
my imagination
and lustfulness
trying to keep pace
with my heart rate.
After all these
years, days collected
and stacked
high and haphazardly
as fall leaves
in November,
this intensity,
this raw disinhibition,
saying things,
moving in ways
that can only
be earned
through time,
to a climax
of orgiastic,
timeless ecstasy.
One Last Nice Moment
ticking over
2019 to 2020.