soapbox: the hannibal tabu blog

Finale (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-30T21:45:00.000-07:00

Well, that didn't go the way I planned ...

The normal Wednesday night reviews went until 4AM, which carpet bombed a long day in meetings on Thursday and a busy night with the family ... meaning I missed a day. Given that I started 2009 six days late, I don't feel that bad, but clearly my summary and recap was woefully premature. Like the tortoise and the hare, I lolly gagged and messed around and stumbled so close to the finish line that it's stupid.

Also funny, there are five Fridays in April, and I claimed my haiku series for my wife was four parts. Hahahahahaha! In the words of Bill Simmons, the moral, as always, is "I'm a moron." At least part time.

My misstep is even more frustrating because this blog may go on a very brief hiatus. Tonight's the last night that Blogger will allow FTP service, which means that once that goes, I'm gone. I won't be hosted by Google (I don't trust their cloud happy philosophy) and I won't give up the hard-won control my current domain and host provides. I blogged for years without a blogging service/engine and I am inches away from having FTP on my phone. I may try to do something with the Wordpress server that my friend installed since this stylish design house is freaking the theme for me, but until it's running, it's vaporware. I'm very confident the theme will be properly freaked and all the goodness of being good will, er, be all good.

If this is goodbye for a week or three, it's been a blast. Now -- two poems to close out NaPoWriMo 2010!

I cannot move any faster than this
My pace determined by some circumstance
Each step is vital and cannot be missed
Too much at stake to leave something to chance

I'm working just as hard as I can now
Focused on keeping steady as I go
A long time before I can take a bow
So many things can interrupt the flow

The truth is I have faltered in the past
but now sustained with never ending glee
good love, manifested in wife and kids,
and no one can take that away from me.

Won't complain as I nod and try to rush
If you ask me, I'm ready and I won't be crushed.

"Sonnet: How Long Is That Gonna Take?"
By Hannibal Tabu

... and, of course, the final haiku for my beloved bride ...

dance pretty sister
motion grace passion grooving
light lives in those smiles

"African Class"
By Hannibal Tabu,
with apologies to Sananda Maitreya

Dude, I'm tired. Tabu out.

... I solemnly swear to always treat this roof like my daughters and raise it ...

Playing (Music): "Not Afraid" by Eminem

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Four hours late and a dollar short (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-29T04:00:00.000-07:00

Crap crap crap crap crap!

After all that big talk, I stumbled this close to the finish line. Wednesday just ran away from me, sorry, here's a haiku to hold you over while I get it together for Friday, which will likely be two poems to finish strong and stick the landing.

Mischief is reward
Never mind why I do it
Know I am the fire that burns

"Loki"
By Hannibal Tabu

Yes, he's the Michael Rosenbaum of Siege, so what? Bye!

Playing (Music): "Feelin' Good" by Nina Simone

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Workin' For A Living (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-27T16:44:00.000-07:00

It's funny to be able to envision the finish line already.

I approached this year's NaPoWriMo with some trepidation. Thirty poems in thirty days, with a newborn in tow, a blog to migrate and a full time job to boot? Today, looking back on the discipline and focus it required, I feel better about my ability to get things done (and yes, my amazing Finnish smartphone plays a huge role in that -- next stop, FTP!) and confident that I'll have (at least) the first draft of my latest novel done by September.

But let's stay focused -- poetry time! Yes, it's a haiku, shut up, I'm sleepy!

Tick tock time passing
Workplace quiet hangs heavy
rush hour hell desired

"I don't feel like working today"
By Hannibal Tabu

There have been "toss out a haiku" days, but I'm pretty proud with many of these pieces, significant first drafts that I could build on. Looking back (as I suspect I won't have time to do as the week draws to a close and I deal with the Blogger situation), I've liked ...

"T'chaka"
"The Villain of The Story"
"Bizarro" (the ending really does it for me)
"The Onset of Winter"
"My Name is Willie Lumpkin"
"What did you learn in class today?"
"Non Stop"
"Little Man"
"The Commute"
"No More Mr. Nice Guy" (anedge hirak Keith Elam)
"Ode to Simply Wholesome"
"The Curtain Falls"
"Running Through My Mind"

... and some of the shorter pieces were okay, like "Digital Diva" or "Tanka: Nokia N900" or "Cuddle Time" or even "The Seeming Flow of Thoughts Based On My Newborn's Expressions".

I notice some themes that recur -- parenting, inspiration, characters I see either in fiction or every day life, even coming to grips with one's self. I find this month's batch an interesting examination and can't wait to examine them more in workshops. I hope to compile an index of all of the pieces for the end of the month (today's a good start, heh)

Just a few more days, y'all ...

Playing (Music):

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

The Mentalist (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-26T16:56:00.000-07:00

Long weekend, dude, but got a gang of work done on ... well, let's put it this way: one thing happened today that is practically the test case for the sensibilities of Boobquake Day. The first episode of Ask Supasista, my wife's completely-NSFW video blog/satirical advice show. It truly speaks for itself (although I have already blogged about it).

Aw, I'm trippin' -- this is about the poetry! Let's do that ...

Reach for contemplation
finding only atmospheric void.

Considering consideration
quest for concepts, dreams,
even half-considered recipes might do.

Chasing something faster
never catching up
not writer's block, writer's slowed
falling into gasps
arresting forward motion.

Breathe.
Respiration links man to divinity
Labored intake of air
expels death with every word
everything begins with every nascent inhale.

There.
In still certainty of "stop."
Underneath eternity of second chances
embodied in rising and falling breastplate.
Ideas were waiting
for a moment to be still
a moment they could find you.

"Running Through My Mind"
By Hannibal Tabu

Finally, on a wholly unrelated note, never eat a 7-11 chicken salad sandwich. Trust me on that one. Argh. Moving on ...

Playing (Music): "Think Of Me" by Lloyd

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Patience, part four of four (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-25T06:36:00.000-07:00

I have been posting haikus about my wife every Friday of NaPoWriMo .. except this one. I was worn out after three late work-related nights in a row and a fairly challenging dental visit. Slippin' on my pimpin' obviously. Here the haiku is ...

Toasty ecru skin
cashmere surface in the dark
warm against my own

"Cuddle Time"
By Hannibal Tabu

... and thank you for being patient. We're gonna do this y'all! Whoo!

Playing (Music): "Winner" by Jamie Foxx feat. Justin Timberlake (I can't lie, this cut's crazy!)

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

I bet you think this poem's about you (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-24T10:20:00.000-07:00

This morning, I was asked if I'd post some sensitive details about someone I know. I had to refuse, and suddenly understood some things people had said about my writing. That, of course, led to this ...

When I was younger, I was fearless.

Talk about a thug rapper's momma
in front of his concert,
Surrounded by all of his boys.

Stand in front of Parker Center
with a picket sign
showin' Daryl Gates
sodomizing Bernie Parks
and dare somebody to say something.

If "AM" and "sunshine" went together
it was time to go to bed after
switching lanes suddenly
90 miles per hour
4AM on 405,
literally acting a fool.

Now there are quiet Saturday mornings
catching up on streamed TV shows
baby strapped to my chest.
Standing in dance performance aisles
to catch slivers of six-year-old smiles.
In bed before 11 on a Friday night.

I don't mind talk about me going soft.
Same stuff stays in my trunk,
still never sit with back to any door.

Closing open door policy on my life.
Details about dramas get delivered nowhere,
hard to grow up under stage lights
relative privacy a gift for the present.

It's not fear.
It's a healthy respect.
It's having people around.

So my blog becomes insular
my poetry less revealing
a sacrifice taken from art
given to tomorrow.

"The Curtain Falls"
by Hannibal Tabu

See ya tomorrow, we're in the home stretch now.

Playing (Music): "Bottle It Up" by Sara Bareilles

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Something Good To Eat (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-23T22:01:00.000-07:00

At my house, every week we have "Fiesta Friday." After my haircut, I drive to probably my favorite restaurant in Los Angeles and buy two orders of Tacos Supreme (made with veggie meat, I hear) which my wife enjoys. I then drive them home and we watch TV or work or whatever before trying to go to sleep early, so we can go to her dance instruction job in the morning (I keep an eye on the baby, strapped to me and sleeping, while she teaches).

That gave me this ...

Lighting straight from Barry White fantasies
clashes with Masai shields
or does it?
Earth tone and stone,
Bob Marley and India.Arie,
Jamaican patties and bean pie,
healthy heartbeat of Black Los Angeles
on corner of Slauson and Overhill.

Friday nights you'll always see
the easy rider
Black cowboy hat
tinted wire rim glasses
black chaps
like a vegetarian gunslinger
makes his home
back to balcony glass
eyes on every exit
his steed Harley Davidson waiting,
hungrily,
outside.

Hipster clerks
have served as cultural barometer
for more than a decade.
Today, thick rimmed glasses
low riding jeans
and Africa medallions (worn ironically).
In 1994 it was
Cross Colours
biker shorts
and Africa medallions (worn politically).

Los Angeles Sentinel and Final Call headlines
marquee names for media
while bookstore offers competing diet plans
grocery shelves stocked just one or two items deep.
Dreadlocks and police shields
bump shoulders over electrolyte rich water.
Throwback jerseys and lapa skirts
in front of backdrop of cars
always cars,
first on east side of street
following setting sun to new home

... and happy to be one to you.

"Ode to Simply Wholesome"
By Hannibal Tabu

I've been a patron at Simply Wholesome for maybe fifteen years. I've eaten more chicken and curry and seafood patties than I'd rather think about. One of the owners, April, has a daughter that my wife taught dance to. They helped cater our wedding too. It's a great place, and it deserves to be recorded.

Watching (Hulu): Flash Forward, "The Garden of Forking Paths"

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Burning Candles at Both Ends, and in the Middle (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-22T23:44:00.000-07:00

Oy.

I wanna write something that's not a haiku or a tanka. For real.

However, I'm baked like a ham soaked in honey. Tuesday night I was up late with a work thing, deploying a website and making sure nothing was on fire. Wednesday night I was up late with work, the weekly comic book reviews. Tonight I'm up late with a work thing, deploying a content management and version control system and verifying that everything works the way it should. I was up all day, being perky and cheery, as I took my stepdaughter to my office for Take Our Daughters And Sons To Work Day, which had so much hilarity it deserves its own blog. I've got a dentist appointment at 11AM tomorrow.

Dude. Be happy with a freakin' haiku or tanka. Here goes.

Who are these people?
Hugs, warm milk, songs. They love me!
... who are these people?

"The Seeming Flow of Thoughts Based On My Newborn's Expressions"
By Hannibal Tabu

I'm out like Ugly Betty's nephew. Well, not exactly like that ... "not that there's anything wrong with it ..."

Let's just move on.

Playing (Music): "Gold Digger" by the cast of Glee

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Comics Haiku At The Last Minute (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-21T23:57:00.000-07:00

Ack! 11 minutes left in the day as I begin ... crap ... okay ... uh ...

Two dimensional
Characters of lines and shades
Battle never stops

"The Simplicity of Super Heroes"
By Hannibal Tabu

Got reviews to do, taking the stepdaughter to work with me for Take Our Daughters and Sons to Work Day with a late night work thing for the second (third?) night this week. Argh.

Playing (Music): "Hello Good Morning" by Dirty Money feat. Puff Daddy (I'll never call him anything else) and T.I.

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Get more props and stunts than Bruce Willis (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-20T23:11:00.000-07:00

Today, a very talented musician passed away and I was rather saddened by the limited amount of publicity this garnered in certain arenas (A big feature from the BBC but the LA station "where hip hop lives" gave him two sentences on the morning show after ten minutes of talk on Tiny and TI's wedding and Octomom). Me? Since he didn't get "at least three minutes of every rap radio hour," I'd like to say "anedge hirak Keith Elam" and offer this ...

"... next time when you're wishing for my downfall/
I'ma come back to drown y'all ..."

Gifted unlimited rhymes universal
arrival on the scene in 89 no rehearsal/
Commercial? Never that, droppin' it for the streets/
he encoded and exploded it in ya mind with beats/
Whatever happened with Primo, keep it on the d-low/
gossip never benefits anybody not godly, we know/
what we need to know, seen the flows & manifested wisdom/
so get some 'cuz I'm jazzy and stay in villages with slums/
it comes as no surprise to lift one leg & step/
gave him a rep, with all of the words to manifest/
Never be to Brooklyn the legend of Biggie or Jay-Z but don't say he/
had limited exposure 'cause Keith/
lit the joint you missed the point and so many smoked/
so dope with Gary Barnacle on "Slicker Than Most"/
Me, I'm south by south west, just introducin' my steez/
drop to ya knees and honor this here exemplar of emcees

"Here's how it goes, I am a genius I mean this
"I'm crazy hip-hop, check one two and you don't stop
"Here's how it goes, I am a genius I mean this
"I sense a purpose is filling me to display credibility"
"Here's how it goes, I am a genius I mean this"
"The weight of the world is heavy on my mind"
"Here's how it goes, I am a genius I mean this"
"genius I mean this"
"genius I mean this"

"No More Mr. Nice Guy"
By Hannibal Tabu

My wife stopped me before I tried to do another verse, and this is super rough, without the normal rehearsal time I used to put into a rhyme and tighten it up. Hopefully I can polish this some, one day.

In the mean time, hip hop lost one of its most effective voices. Alongside LA's Freestyle Fellowship and Philly's The Roots, Guru was one of the people who introduced hip hop to jazz, and had some of the most amazing collaborations ever, with Chaka Khan, Roy Ayers, Courtney Pine, Kool Keith (I so wanted to do a Kool Keith riff in the next proposed verse, since Guru's first name was Keith), Isaac Hayes and so many more.

I met him very briefly outside of Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles on Gower in Hollywood. I didn't get all fanboy about him, and he had no idea who I was. While I'd been complimentary of his work, I'd never championed it. It couldn't have been more than ten seconds, and until I saw the announcement of his death while I was getting ready for work (you don't read RSS feeds when you wake up?), I probably hadn't thought about it for years.

Nevertheless, 43 is young as hell to lose your life to cancer, and I'm sorry to see him gone. There that is. Anedge hirak Keith "Guru" Elam, and I know he's heading for one hell of a jam session.

Playing (Music): "DWYCK" by Gang Starr feat. Nice & Smooth

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Drive (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-19T17:35:00.000-07:00

I've been grinding and barely had any ideas. Lemme see if I can shape this half-an-idea into something ...

Accelerate.

First feeling transition
stillness to motion,
discarding Newtonian tradition
for freedom.
Tap brakes to consider
left and right, choices and chances
wheels roll and -- whoa!
Watch your speed, jerktown,
kids play around here!

Anyway ...
blacktop bounce
lane to lane
(Dodge that delivery van)
switch on the stereo
Crappy rapper ...
crappy old school rapper ...
(watch it Camry)
sappy singer ...
(nice Bentley, old dude)
oldie that doesn't fit the mood ...
sugary pop crap ...
sugary dance crap ...
... hh, "Hotel California" would work for open road
but not for dippin' and dodgin'
(crap, you ever hear of a turn signal?)
whiny alt-rock ...
grungy alt rock ...
not in the mood for this 80s song ...
where's that iPod?

Playlist?
(ease off gas pedal, catching police lights waiting ahead)
Driving While Black.
pounding beats and staccato vocals
accentuate scowl at occupying forces,
diminishing my velocity
holding me back with their nation of millions.

Bleary-eyed windows watch impassively as I pass
(stupid crotch rocket motorcycle
... oh, and nobody wants to see your girl's stained thong!)
wide lanes and plain sedans
mini vans filled with wrestling matches in back,
harried mom gripping frizzed hair and steering wheel.
It's Monday and miles fall like feet
marathon making their way to work
to school
to home
to life.

I pump up the volume
with Rakim sensibilities
and an Aceyalone lean
headrest peeking past back door window
but hands at eight and four.
Pick up the pace
past pick up trucks,
Tundras path finding their way
in my way,
Turner Family
ignoring red stripe across turn arrow
obstructing justice
making intersection parking lot.

My mind's on Excel spreadsheets
with Chali 2na's words on my tongue
keep moving.
This is the life we chose.

Keep moving.
Keep moving.

"The Commute"
By Hannibal Tabu

Now to make that commute -- hasta y'all!

Playing (Music): "Wild Pitch" by Ras Kass feat. Jah Skillz and Xzibit

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

For Busy Poets Who Considered Cloning When The Weekend Wasn't Enough (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-18T21:55:00.001-07:00

I really need to get a few days ahead. Reviewing my novel-in-progress has me slippin' on my poetry, dawg! Here goes ...

Never have Facebook
by way of shoulder surfing
remind you to write.

"National Poetry Writing Month Will Kick Your Butt If You Don't Have A Plan"
By Hannibal Tabu

If I don't have it at least considered in my brain by 7PM, chances are I won't be proud of the outcome. Do better tomorrow, check.

Watching (TV): United States of Tara, "You Becoming You"

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Manly Rites of Passage (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-17T11:14:00.001-07:00

No time to chat! Let's get down to business ...

Polo shirt hangs at a funny angle,
Chest of arms logo from his elementary school
practically on his shoulder.
He holds out crumpled bills
with head held high
lips parted slightly
as only the young or the innocent can.

His father's hand
comes down slowly,
Like a VTOL jet landing in field of eggshells
a proud pat of reassurance
right above that logo.

Identical tapered fades,
smaller footsteps matching bigger ones
he's learning how to be like daddy
one cut at a time

"Little Man"
By Hannibal Tabu

Let's do this again tomorrow, yes?

Playing (Music): "Where We Gotta Be" (live at Temple Bar) by Brig Feltus

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Patience, part three of four (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-16T16:04:00.000-07:00

Normally on Fridays for this NaPoWriMo, I've been doing haikus about my gorgeous, talented, whimsical wife. Today, I just needed more syllables, so I switched it up, dropping a tanka on dat azz! Here goes ...

Dancing CSS
Media streams after dark
life between pledges
choices we make manifest
together, holding on tight

"Tanka: The Lines of Our Code"
By Hannibal Tabu
with apologies for inverting the sentiments of Sixpence None the Richer

Busy day tomorrow, so the poem may be later in the evening. Happy Friday, putas!

Playing (Music): "You Dropped A Bomb On Me" by The Gap Band

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

[Redacted for your safety] (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-15T16:56:00.000-07:00

I can't even talk about why I'm writing today's piece. It's actually more understanding than I originally intended, which may be the wonder of word economy and poetry. Anyhoo ...

Misunderstanding
facts out of sequence, amok
Comprehension's hard.

"To The Person I Cannot Name"
By Hannibal Tabu

Haiku about the wife tomorrow!

Playing (Music): "Dr. Bombay" by Del the Funkee Homosapien

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Keep on keepin' on (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-14T11:11:00.000-07:00

Not so happy that I blanked on yesterday's poem until after dinner. Today, more discipline!

Also, I have noted that the dangerous Nikki Blak has picked up the pace after falling off for nearly a week, and is pounding out some powerful new pieces. I may have a piece every day, but even I'll admit some are not that strong (while I am extraordinarily proud of the T'chaka and Bizarro pieces, and some of the other pieces, like the wife haikus, are not bad at all). Anyway, here's today ...

Newborns don't take days off.

Infants never call in sick.
You won't find they left early
or drifted in after they were due to start.
They work long hours
sleeping, pooping, spitting up
reaching for things,
wiggling farther than you expect
interjecting coos and cries in moments of silence.

There were too many times
when I showed up for what I felt mattered
coasting through passage of mundane days
figuring that doing all right made it all right.

A sliver of tomorrow's an excellent reminder
of importance of Tim Duncan diligence.
Stepping up your game every day
because replays are on screen,
do-over is for kids or Sunday afternoons
adulthood is a one-way street.

Two sets of hands reach with every cry in the night.
Everybody works, nobody quits.
The life that everybody asks for,
worth every second
every day,
every single day.

"Non Stop"
by Hannibal Tabu

More tomorrow!

Playing (Music): "Lovesjoy" by Jason Luckett

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Ack ack ack ack ack! (National Poetry Writing Month

2010-04-13T21:39:00.000-07:00

Thought I was gonna fall off, huh? It's still Tuesday, fool! Let's go!

*Hannibal slumps over*

How did I actually forget this all day? Stupid life ...

Okay ... lessee ... ooh, this came up at dinner ...

Can't learn nothing and something at the same time.

Seemingly simple sentiment for a six-year-old
got wheels turning like Journey put 'em in the sky
as African-influenced consciousness
chafes at shackles of westernized dichotomal toggle switch.

Both/and feel more right than either/or
meditation proves how much can enter empty minds
but all the highfalutin' sophistry
won't help bandanna'ed first grader
get the point.

Tight rope of black-and-white absolutism
stands in contrast to shades of gray life
but satire seems serious
the impossible's just out of reach
and horizons seem much farther away for her.
There is a deeper world than this,
but it won't be tugging at her hand
tonight.

I stick to the point,
Tell her to pick a side
and script the apology I'll owe her in her twenties.

"What did you learn in class today?"
by Hannibal Tabu

Moving on ...

Watching (Hulu): 24 8:00 AM-9:00 AM

Mail On Sundays (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-12T12:12:00.000-07:00

Had a great convo with my dawg Craig on Saturday, which led us to think about the people who live between the panels of Marvel Comics. He tried to push a Foggy Nelson poem idea on me, but this one stuck more in my consciousness.

Monday, bug-eyed men from under the earth
made me six minutes late
delivering Mrs. O'Leary's social security check.

Tuesday, that rascal Johnny swooped down and saved me
from a steely gray column of Doombots
blasting the Baxter Building's foundations.

Today might be quiet,
even though I can see weird vibrations
around the Gotham skyline from home.

Growing up in Glenville, Nebraska,
a flat spot off the 92
so tiny Google Maps can barely find it,
every day was like every other day.
Friday night you might catch a movie
if you could drive to Prairie Theatre in Ogallala
Maybe five hundred people lived in McPherson County
I was just another one
but I always wanted to do something special.

My dad got me a job at the post office
over in Arthur
which saw me putting down same seventeen flags
from graduation into my thirties.
Met Imogene when she ran out to the road
with some contest entry.
She won me, but always wanted that ceramic duck cookie jar.

That ol' sun crossed flat Nebraska plain time and again
Imogene and I just watched it,
holding hands on same porch I played on as a kid
My dad passed away and left me the place
while my kid brother Ted went to school at Columbia.
We were happy there,
holding hands and watching sunsets
until the cancer found her as wonderful as I did.

Not many world-class oncologists in McPherson County
so when Ted said we could stay with him
see some fancy New York doctor
I put in for a transfer that day,
surpising Imogene with that ceramic duck
in our new, cramped room.
My brother was probably too proud
to admit he needed help with his daughter Billie
but three months later we were both widowers,
little Billie was the lady of the house
and I started prowling the mail slots of Brooklyn.

Well, Ted died a few years later
and I needed some extra money to support a New York mortgage
so I took the Baxter Building route
and the rest is ... well, legend, if not history.
I've met despots
shaken hands with gods
seen worlds ending and heroes reborn.
I still eat cookies out of that duck, though.

It's a long way from Glenville, and yeah,
I don't know what to make of a lot of it
but I wouldn't have it any ... other ...

... hm. People flying around the penthouse.
Maybe I'll bring by the mail later on.

"My Name is Willie Lumpkin"
By Hannibal Tabu

It needs a lot more sensory data, I'd like to brush against the family themselves more, but I was pleasantly surprised that I guessed a town to put him in -- Flats, Nebraska -- was surprisingly close to what Stan Lee originally intended. I can't tell if that's a testament to Stan's ability to convey what a person's about or my own intuitiveness. Fun to note, though. Maybe more on the present day and less background ... worth working on.

No progress on the Wham!-inspired long form idea. It may be a short story after all. Have to think about that in May, if so.

Playing (Music): "Typical" by Mute Math

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

The Weatherman Revolution (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-11T09:50:00.001-07:00

Woke up early for family activities, so wrestling that big idea's not an option today. Here, have a haiku instead!

moved here to escape
the tyranny of rainfall
clouds above remain

"60 Percent Chance of Precipitation"
By Hannibal Tabu

Tabu out!

Playing (Music): "Two Occasions" by The Deele (live version)

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

What I Really Meant To Say (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-10T19:52:00.001-07:00

General updates on life before we start today's poem ...

The movie Legion is really terrible. Plot, acting, special effects (although I did like Gabriel's angel fighting style and would love to see a character like him in a Street Fighter game) ... it was a mess. Urf.

Started watching season one of United States of Tara and it's pretty good. My dawg Craig and my wife Myshell really knew their stuff recommending that. As uncomfortable as The Office but far more tragic, with an amazing cast and tour de force acting from the perfectly cast Toni Collette.

I have been super busy blogging at The Hundred and Four, reviewing my new N900 phone in detail, eviscerating "entertainer" Drake and the comics event Blackest Night and probably more (sleepy, walking the baby daughter around while the wife teaches a class and the sister takes it).

Poem time! Tried a more ambitious piece, it started imploding, fell back to this. Here we go ...

Little eyes attend
choosing each word with such care
what will stay with her?

"Come Over Here Right Now, Little Girl!"
by Hannibal Tabu

We'll see if I can make the short story-sized idea I tried today work for tomorrow. Hasta!

Playing (Music): "Don't Stop Believing" by the cast of Glee

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Patience, part two of four (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-09T16:32:00.000-07:00

Before I get started, a special note to two possible readers: Janai and Shareka -- I am not on Facebook during 2010, although my words (i.e. these posts) are, through the magic of online syndication. I am merely a fragment of your intoxication, so please don't let the fact that these posts keep appearing on Facebook freak you out or let you believe I have supernatural powers (beyond the ones I've already evidenced anyway). I just didn't turn off "import" on the "notes," which pulls from my blog. See the paragraph at the end for more information on that.

Enough prelude: It's Friday, which means it's time for a haiku about my wife! Here goes ...

Hub scub a loo dank
credank, moo-mop, loving me
Language that's just yours

"My Wife Makes Up Words All The Time"
By Hannibal Tabu

I've gotta get ahead for the weekend ... thanks for hanging in there with me!

Playing (Music): "Sex on Fire" by Kings of Leon

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Underneath this canopy of snow (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-08T16:44:00.000-07:00

No preamble. Looked in the bathroom mirror and got an idea. Let's just do this.

I used to have perfect eyebrows.

Many people said so,
talked about the flawlessness of the curvature
immaculate pattern of growth
unruliness found it impossible to gain a foothold.

A girl I dated and her best friend
literally tackled me
then held me down on a couch once,
part marveling and part envying
grooming accomplishment they plucked and paid to obtain.

That story seems like it should end more interestingly
or at least with some inappropriate rubbing
of some sort
but that's really the end of it.

In any case, now snowdrifts lazily find their home
above my mocha-scented eyes,
peeking over wire rims
of my windows to the world.
Five white lines
grandmaster flashing through
forest of follicles
inspiring wild growth
outside established borders.

Can't say I'm aging perfectly,
who really is?
I'm not one for ambiance and vanity, though.
This is better than the alternative.

"The Onset Of Winter"
By Hannibal Tabu

Wife haiku tomorrow!

Playing (Music): "Like a Mack" by Ne-Yo

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Goodbye (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-07T12:34:00.000-07:00

I liked my piece about T'chaka, but I really like the balance of subtleties I was able to layer into this. I can't wait for a chance to workshop some of this stuff ...

I'm a man without acceptance
ambiguity stamped into mitochondrial strands

No one suspects, but my IQ is stratospheric,
my greatest joy is the symmetry of a good equation.

To them, I'm a punchline walking through a wall
when the door's right next to it.

Did you know I love paintings?
The subtlety of brush strokes and texture.
Between yelling and breaking things,
Sometimes I catch a glimpse of beauty
hundreds of miles away.

I think theorems and hypotheses
but all that comes out is punching and smashing
frustrated hate flows where I'd prefer to know love.
Forever stymied by a brain humming Schubert melodies
and a mouth screaming dyslexic absurdities,
frustrated by a body that breaks
where my mind seeks the birth of tulip buds ...

I'm the superb man you didn't know,
"imperfect" copy always envious of "brother" who has it all.

Every day I feel sick
trapped inside this mass of miracles
using skies as my sidewalks
eyes that cast ice,
dragon's breath from my lips
"Gifts" that can no more benefit mankind
than they can embrace beauty.

My world is sharp where it should be round,
caresses from my lover
come from end of a baseball bat.
my words are mangled misimaginings of drunken toddlers
and without my prodigious power,
I'd be a ward of the state
eligible for assistance
differently abled ... but hopeful.

How can I quell the contradictions?
I can't escape prison of my chalky, brittle skin
none of my "friends" understand,
not the genius, not the clown, not the fascists from space
... and I had to say something, anything
to anyone
before the ray's affects wore off ...

... hello ... hello.

"Bizarro"
By Hannibal Tabu

Me am happy to be here

Maybe something easier tomorrow, it's gonna be a long day ...

Playing (Music): "Particle Man" by They Might Be Giants

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Computer Love (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

Before I get started, if you haven't taken the five seconds to vote "thumbs up" on my feature at Blog Interview, I'd sure appreciate it. Heck, even if you have, you can go back and vote again, once per day. Thanks. All positive votes support my keynote speech at Blogworld 2012 at the Los Angeles Convention Center alongside Erick Sermon, with a special introduction by Jenny "The Bloggess" Lawson, and your name will be mentioned in my live blog of the event. Yes, I am going to live blog my own keynote speech. If someone does it before I get the chance to, I'll be very cross with them.

Moving on to new business, let's take a look at today's poem, shall we?

Always at my side
my electronic romance
watchman of my dreams
you know most of my secrets
... what? The call disconnected?

"Tanka: Nokia N900"
By Hannibal Tabu

I love this phone, but reception in Pasadena stinks like the waiting room at a douche testing facility.

Off you go, children!

Playing (Music): "I Constantly Thank God For Esteban" by Panic! At The Disco

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...

Too late to apologize? (National Poetry Writing Month)

2010-04-05T13:15:00.000-07:00

I've been test driving some new things -- header graphics, an idea I think I swiped from my wife -- and all in preparation for a May 1st change in blog tactics. I'm still piecing together the specifics as I prepare for my exodus from Blogger, but why should that stand in the way of an all new poem! Here we go ...

How could you not know?

Of course you started your father drinking.
You may as well have mixed up
the chemical imbalance it exacerbated
in a high school chemistry lab.

When your mother ran away,
you may as well have handed her the car keys
and a Mapquest printout
showing the way to freedom.

The babysitter who molested your brother?
You probably left some Barry White playing
spiked the Hawaiian Punch
drenched your brother's clothes
and cut the phone wire at the house.

When you look at it,
it's hard to imagine anything could have gone right
with you involved.

You know,
you could have been more open
to her rapid fire emotional abuse.
Every time you were together,
why couldn't you just smile when she tore you down?
Why didn't you find her vapid humor more amusing?

Every time he hit you,
he did so with love
your bruises assurances of affection.
If you weren't such a crybaby
you'd probably still enjoy that touch?

Comprehension crosses your face
like the great Khan marching across the plains.
It's all your fault, then.

You're the one told Chris Brown
what Rihanna said about his momma.
You were the first one who told Tiger,
"Well, it's not like Elin's here now, is she?"
Not sure how your fingerprints stayed off OJ's gloves
or how the Zapruder video missed you on the grassy knoll
but there's heavy suspicions that was your handiwork too.

You're right.
There can be no question.
You are the worst person in the world.

So what does that mean
since we're all willing to forgive you?

"The Villain of The Story"
By Hannibal Tabu

It almost feels like I'm in the groove now! Hoo hah!

Also, some of the headers may be a bit ... esoteric. This one, for example, uses a photo of Prince Poetry from Organized Konfusion, since I couldn't think of anything else when I said "poetry" that was visual. Maybe I'll get a better idea -- the wife thinks this one is goofy. We'll see.

Playing (Music): "Old Time Rock 'n' Roll" by Bob Seger

NOTE: Since this blog is automatically imported into my Facebook page, I apologize if you comment on it and I don't respond, as I am taking a sabbatical from social networking for 2010. So me not responding is not personal, I just won't see the comments ... until 2011. Maybe. Also including this disclaimer on blogs, but you're welcome to go to the blog itself and speak your mind, as I may look there ...