National Poetry Writing Month is over, but once in a while, something sneaks out as a poem anyway.

I used to be
single gray, rain-laden cloud
interceding in sunniest days.

Malicious cackles,
dipping through traffic
whipping wet willies or
just sayin’ stuff to make you mad.

Chaos street spirit,
fomenting maelstrom
bringin motherfunkin’ ruckus
because I could,
because it was a calling.

Now I make deliveries
more surgically,
save up everyday mischief to
manifest as manuscripts
HTML code the new flavor in your ear
plant seeds of evolution.

Now I’m toddler smiles at sunrise,
cubicle citizen
parent teacher conference alibis
for crimes you can’t conceive.

Today my madness
comes downloadable for your tablet,
or as pint sized sweethearts
growing up, ready
to tear it all down.
I don’t have to
do all the work myself.

Nothing changes
and everything changes.
To understand,
you have to know where to look.

“When Bad Boys Become Good Men”
By Hannibal Tabu

I’ll have to do my next superhero piece for the next NaPoWriMo I participate in. Next year looks like April will be for National Short Story Writing Month. Fingers crossed.

Playing (Music): “Street Lights” by Kanye West

For months, I’ve been trying to promise myself that I’d chronicle my night time ritual with our youngest daughter before I forget it in rush of growing up and everyday madness. This might be as close as I get.

Ending begins in water,
Tugboat and floating alphabet,
Rubbery waterfowl
meets perforated bucket
Cleanliness is next to drowsiness
when baba’s doing bath time.

Everything has a song.
Time to start and stop
rewrites lyrics to
”Springtime for Hitler,”
Remix doo-wop classic
”Splish Splash”
For soapy main event.
Schoolyard rhyme
organizes finale,
”clean up, clean up,
Everybody everywhere
Clean up, clean up,
Everybody do your share”

”Where does the water go, baba?”
Explain drain pipe
as dark hallway,
Leading drips and drops home
To sanctuary beds.

Misremembered Chris Thompson lyrics,
“if you remember me …”
soothes while drying tiny feet.
”Sing me another song, baba,”
means it’s either Stevie Wonder’s ”As”
Or Coldplay’s ”The Scientist”
Before lengthy litany,
names of all the people who love her.

Three rules
Keep baba at bedside
Until sleep comes calling
Lie still
(some furtive fidgeting is fine)
Be quiet
(ignoring singsong whispers to self soothe)
Close your eyes
(no exceptions)

Snores like caterpillar footsteps
Soon march across pillow.
Time for me to engage
In acts of stealth
Twenty year vets of CIA
Would find laudable.

Five steps,
Carefully placed,
Memorized to avoid
Creaky spots on floor
Exfiltrate back to my room
Another successful mission complete.

”Bedtime For Fuss and Baby-ness”
By Hannibal Tabu

I envisioned a detailed blog with every songs altered lyrics faithfully rendered and what not. Meh. I’ll try to remember to record it all on my phone one night. Close enough.

Playing (Music): “Soundtrack Of My Life” by Deemi

Gotta catch up.

Dark hours of morning
Prowls corridor, rubbing eyes
Someone wants breakfast

“Time To Wake Up, Baba”
By Hannibal Tabu

I’m probably staggering around like a jackass.

Watching (Hulu): The Morning After, April 11, 2012