[If] Life’s Rotten, Write to the Core

Ain Heath Drew

Lulu Publishing

Ain.H.D@hotmail.com

Copyright © 2007 by Ain Heath Drew

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the written permission of the author.

ISBN 978-0-557-00306-8

Published by:

Lulu Enterprises, Inc.

860 Aviation Parkway, Suite 300

Morrisville, NC 27560

Cover design by Kevin “mr. soul” Harp:

www.mistersoul216.com

Dedicated to Michele Heath—the most fabulous mother in the world. Aren’t you glad I didn’t try to be a comedian?

And to writers everywhere…

Thanks to Shamontiel Vaughn for your editing genius, and for answering every question I had about publishing. You gave me the “gonads” to get this complete. Monica, aka “Morrie,” for reading and feeling

every word. To my extended family from GEC and GVSU, and everyone I’ve had the pleasure or displeasure of meeting from ’82 to ’07 for providing inspiration. And thank you to my family for being the

village to raise the person I am today. I appreciate all of you.

“America’s lost somewhere inside of Littleton

Eleven Million children are on Ritalin

That’s why I don’t rhyme

For the sake of riddlin’

False media

We don’t need it, do we?”

Wadud Ahmad, from “False Media,” by The Roots

Who

I am captured in between the lines

Of college ruled paper

Articulated in the lexicon of academics

Of college ruled conversations

Laymen discourse

And in between

I’m fashioned to a beat on blank sheets

A mannequin metaphor, outfitted smoothly

But if trees refused to fall

I’d be dictated to an invisible scribe

Ranted at gray skies

Browned grass

Recited over silent melodies

I am poetry

Writing Prompt #1: Who are you? If you were an object or an idea, how would people describe you? How would you describe yourself?

To Live for Impossibilities

Waiting for the sky to fall and crush space

And prove nothing is infinite

That there are always boundaries

There is a final number and

The galaxy ends and begins at the tearing ozone

Layers are down to one and man realizes

That this is our last chance

To find soulmates who don’t exist

Writing Prompt #2: The old cliché “Never say never” suggests that nothing is impossible. If this is true, what far-fetched moments are you living for?

Love Addicts

Some love between 9 and 5

They love on smooth mahogany tops

Fondling hard wood in two-week intervals

Some pump love into their arms

So hard that their eyes roll back

After the pressure of love raises their veins

Some love in quick strokes

Pretending with faceless lovers

Relationship forgeries behind security screens

Some love like genies

Trapped in bottles before noon hours

Loving with deep burning swallows

Some love through fear of losing

They love freely and passionately

So long that love drips down their thighs

Some love more than three times a day

They chew guilt in their greed to avoid

Carrying love’s heavy load

Some love twice and pass it to the left

They love in ounces

To escape loving too much

Writing Prompt #3: Addictions come in many forms. What do you have a habit or compulsion to do frequently? Is it harmful to your mind, body or soul? Do you have your habit under control?

Screw Love

Screw love

I mean

I want to screw

Love

Then tuck love so snug

Under my sheets

That he can’t leave me in the morning

Lately cupid

Needs target practice

So I’ve been contemplating

Packing pounds

So his arrows

Stop missing me

But I got to thinking

Mid-bite

Of a donut ring

That a ring around my middle

Ain’t worth a wedding ring

So here I am

Thin

And alone

But my prospects

Are thinning

And my patience

Is wearing even thinner

Waiting

For this one-sided game of hide and seek

With love

To end

I’ve long abandoned

The hunt

Hoping

That love will give in

And present himself

To me

In the guise of someone I refuse

To describe

Afraid to assign love limitations

Fearful that my love

May not fit into that box

His contents may just spill over

Cupid. give me anything

Just call it love

New Girl

Four walls and a ceiling offer

The only dose of familiarity

The eyes of strangers play

Across my face like a butchers’ hand

On fresh meat

Cutting into my exterior

Dicing me to multiple per

son

a

li

ties

Must not conform

Plays through my mind

Scrolling

Scrolling

Scrolling

An animated screen saver

While my individuality

Waits on standby

As I feel out a crowd

Who’s feeling me

An orgy of avoided introductions

Must not conform

Replays through my mind

Settling into my psyche

As hands reach out and

Pseudo welcomes are feigned

Hello

Hello

Hello

Shoes

I’ve seen hands

Contact skin between

Words of condescension

When love was a forced

Synonym of pain

Your shoes are brand new

I’ve seen fear

Fester in boiling pots of ignorance

Fueled by miseducation

Of multiculturalism

And misconceptions

Your shoes are brand new

I’ve witnessed typical

Stereotypes transform

Into anticipated conformity

And society’s ills nurtured like sores

But I’d rather spit shine my shoes

Before I trade them

With yours

Writing Prompt #4: How would it be to walk a day in your shoes? What unique experiences and qualities do you posses that make you the brilliant person you are today?

Drunken Night

Edge of bed

Drooping head

Pungent tin can

“Don’t go to sleep”

Crazy walls

Dancing floors

Off beat

Didn’t eat

Heavy air

Porcelain god

Praying long

Praying hard

Distorted thoughts

Senses gone

Muffled voices

“What she drink?”

Drifting

Sleeping

Dreamless

Waking

Smears of ex’s name on hand

Techno Fiend

His body moves to the rhythm of a thousand beats

He feeds off repetition

D

A

N

C

E

D

A

N

C

E

D A N C E

Gyrate in your own world

Inside those cargo pants

Stomp

Sway

Jerk

Like Jamaican chicken

Sweat in your own world

Where the music is fast

And life moves faster

And the beat never drops

And the song will always climax

Until its sudden finality

And your heart’s racing techno fiend

And your feet are achin’

And your arms are sore

But you wait…

For another techno jingle

To mingle with the lights

Writing Prompt #5: I’m a Hip-Hop head, a wannabe break-dancer, mediocre freestylist with dreams of learning how to DJ. I’m a fiend for hard beats and tight lyrics. What type of music puts you in trance? Be it Jazz, Rhythm and Blues or Country, what genre couldn’t you live without? How does it make you feel?

Haiku

Superstitious men

Still had limp bodies in trees

After knocking wood

Beautiful Unwanted Child

Thunder rumbles

Lightening shocks a helpless sky

Violent winds sweep clouds

Into Mother Earth’s dustpan of disposal

Rainfall races to silent grounds

But out of the commotion

A rainbow emerges

Writing Prompt #6: Some of the most beautiful moments in life are unexpected. Write about a pleasant surprise that changed your outlook or brightened up a dull spot in your life.

Grey Matters

He loves me

Some

We kiss on the moon

And cuddle with the sun

He writes partial love notes

But on shady days

He ends them with “Peace, Me”

We shun exclusiveness

While jealousy resides in us

He loves me

Some

Me, skip a seat, him

At the movies

And he leans over to kiss my forehead

He loves me

Some

He thinks of me everyday

And calls me every other

When I cry, we cry

We dream different dreams

Together

He slow dances with my smile

And laughs at my frown

He loves me

Some

Memories

If I could live each day

From scratch

Not remembering what happened

Each yesterday

I would be content

Because all these little

Scattered pictures

Of your beautiful

Face

Would fade away

And if I saw you

In the street and you said hello

I would be clueless

As to who you were

Instead of wishing

You had said

Something more

THIS IS THE END OF YOUR PEEK.

PLEASE PURCHASE THE BOOK FOR MORE.

PEACE, LOVE & NAPPINESS.