Poetry
James Douglas Morrison
A musician, and a poet who was never taken as serious as he wanted to be. I would have loved to explore this man’s brain. Born in the wrong era. Pam and Jim were the perfect storm. Messy chaotic… but the sun still shined, and flowers still bloomed. Till death. 💛
Willie Nelson
Willie Nelson is a jack of all trades. He even writes a poem from time to time. Getting older can be downright depressing. The golden years aren’t so golden. They can be the coolest, most uncomfortable winter you’ve ever experienced. But you can also stop to look at the beauty in the snow.
Anyhow…
Willie Nelson, I love you!!
Happy 84th birthday to one of the coolest men out there!!
….and thank you Both Kinds of Music in LA on KCHUNG radio for providing lots of Willie Nelson for our listening pleasure this morning.
Now for a poem from Willie himself-
“I have outlived my pecker.”
The Penis Poem–by Willie Nelson
My nookie days are over,
My pilot light is out.
What used to be my sex appeal,
Is now my water spout.
Time was when, on its own accord,
From my trousers it would spring.
But now I’ve got a full time job,
To find the f***in’ thing.
It used to be embarrassing,
The way it would behave.
For every single morning,
It would stand and watch me shave.
Now as old age approaches,
It sure gives me the blues.
To see it hang its little head,
And watch me tie my shoes!!
Stolen work
Well as hard as the truth hurts A LOT, I recently found on Instagram today that my work had been stolen by a more popular poet who has been published. It’s my own fault. I never did any copywriting. Still it stings like a bitch! So this website will only be for my own thoughts on others work, posts of work I like, and thoughts on other things. No more of my poetry, nor stories until they have been published though for my own protection.
and lastly…
Fuck you to the guy who blazingly stole my work. I never realized you took pieces of my poem and posted it on your Facebook claiming it to be your own. Especially since a woman had what was “your words” tattooed on her. You’re a phony…and those were actually a woman’s words to begin with… not a mans.
Nobody likes a thief.
Just goes to show. Protect your work people.
I apologize to any follows who liked my poetry and/or stories in the past. I will keep you all updated on any published work in the future.
With love,
-K.K.Powell
Grocery Grandeur
The wind howls in the cool wet darkness
The rains ease graciously
The heavy truck door is forced shut by the storm’s breeze
Only to be stopped from latching shut
 by my knee…
ACK!
Synapses
send sparks
and flames
to my brain
The knee burns
and throbs
Maybe it bleeds
Not enough to soak through my jeans
Hey, you got any cash??
I need a hotel room tonight, and I ain’t got no money.Â
Sorry, man.
No cash here.
Fluorescent lights
Pupils constrict
Coffee beans
Organic
dark blend
Chocolate, Citris, Almonds.
White wine
Chardonnay
Vanilla, Oak, and Apples.
An overly talkative checker
You two find everything okay?
Oh wait, you aren’t together…
Well, that’s awkward…!!
Now is your chance….
You can crack open your breath mints before you talk to her if you want.
The poor twenty something froze.
His tennis shoes probably a gift from mom,
shortly before she became an empty nester.
All he wanted was his nutella snack,
and his ice breakers mints.
He fumbles to get through the line.
Still he does not turn back.
Back to the cool dank night
Dog kibble scattered on the ground.
Her pupils
pin point
dark to light
light to dark
pin
point.
Well, NOW can I have money.
Sores cover her pale face
Short hair knotted sporadically atop her head
No, you cannot have money.
I am not your ATM.
The dog eats her kibble
off the concrete.
A sense of entitlement
used by instability.
Drunk off the overindulgence of humanity.
-K. K. Powell
The storm
We are all adults.
We are all held accountable for our own actions.
When the shit storm hits it does not pick and chose who it hits…
It hits everyone.
-K.K. Powell
The end of the day
At the end of the day.
There is nothing more to say.
Be grateful for what came with ease.
Wash away any thoughts which brought you to your knees.
Because at the end of the day…
It is only the self which you really need to please.
-K.K. Powell
Heart of stone
Walking along at around 10,000 feet on Mount Shasta I attempted to find the perfect heart shaped stone. You see, I have found many of them on my travels into various geographical locations. Usually while in nature, on a hike or while practicing yoga.
I was given a heart of red stone by a Native American whom I met on a hike in Sedona, Arizona. After a long talk about philosophy, we gave each other a hug. I did some yoga on a rock nearby while he played his flute. A lizard stood by, and watched me. Click on the hyperlink below to view.
Lizard video link Sedona, AZ
In my frequent drives into the Rocky Mountains of Colorado I would spend hours hiking into the forests. One day finding a rose quartz heart there while on a hike with Lulu.
While living by the Russian River in Cloverdale, California I would meditate by the river often after my yoga practice. One day an otter was upstream laying on his back on the other side of the river. He would look over periodically, and continue about his business while I carried on with my own. That same day I found a two heart shaped river stones… One large, one small.
While walking at the 10,000 feet at Mt. Shasta it felt right. The day before while at Lake Siskiyou, I looked down to find a lizard holding refuge under my shirt laying on a rock. When I picked my shirt back up, I did it carefully as I didn’t want to harm my visitor. I snapped a little picture, made sure the dog didn’t have him for a snack, and we were on our way.
The next day there was a chipmunk standing nearby stuffing his chubby cheeks watching as I wobbled back in forth in the intermittent gusts of winds in tree pose. I was feeling at one with nature, and had a good feeling I may find another heart stone.
When I looked down…
I did see a heart.
While it was surrounded by dirt, it looked perfect.
When I picked it up, it was just another abstract rock.
Then I remembered…
There is no perfect heart.
No perfect heart shaped stones.
The most perfect hearts are molded that way.
…and sometime the hearts covered in dirt, cracked, and imperfect are actually the best hearts.
As I walked along further I found many stones to form a heart.
Then I remembered, to form a good heart sometimes it takes not just one… But many to make it the best heart.
Thanks for the reminder Mt. Shasta.
-K.K. Powell
