NOT MYSELF....Day 7, Poem #7(NPM)

I'm not myself,
not even close to the person I was a year ago today
routine is well off,
so I'm not feeling how I should feel in anyway
some days don't feel like getting up
most days I hate to drive
work is so dayum routine,
dealing with customer service,  and they call me mean

I'm so not myself,

not enjoying my day to day
because of change I'm losing mental space
ideas are overwhelming me,
My car is dayum near on E,
my pockets deep with no money
white mail is turning to pink notices
Government deadlines, talks of closings

I'm so not me,

Use to be a time I was happy
happy about weekends and parties
paydays, to paying bills, left over money
led to me going shopping
Not  me...
I don't even drive in the direction of my favorite stores
I'm wearing horse blinders to create a visional detours
disgusted with my closet,
these items I don't want to see or wear no more
its pretty obvious
I'm not being me


When was I me last
I mean in the past you could catch me with a laugh
use to be a time it was worth approaching my path
now I'm smiling with a smirk,
while at work, I'm looking bit mad
serious faces in all happy places
times like this was discouraging to my faith
messages from the good book left confusion on my face
I kneel to pray, work for the faith
loving my dreams so much, I don't want to awake

This is just not me,


social problems
because of financial problems
aging quick becomes a physical problem
driving with car problems
work place, I got  mo problems, mo problems, mo problems
problems I can't attempt to solve them
problems with equating, no time do I have to resolve them
love is the problem
a bigger problem to be in love
leads to my problems with sleep,

but again, this not me!

relying on half a bottle
traveling under the speed limit
to save gas by using less on the throttle
physique is not DETAILS to be a GQ model
Devil is a former angel and from this angle
that makes me a angel in demonic bible

but no proof to show to me
or convince you to convince me
that this is NOT ME

dependency on being lonely
needy only when I'm feeling the intimacy
I might chant love, but still feels like lust to me
this ain't the voice of a Gemini talking
that other side died long ago, so I let it go 
the twin no longer resides with me

But, I'm still not feeling me

Rejections
no connection
no service
worthless
ink is drying
my poetry dying
head is crying
mouth keeps lying
and in the end,
my thoughts are implying.......

I'M NOT MYSELF....a poem that needs no replying!

By LeRoy Goetzendanner

UNLIMITED DESTINATION.........Day 6, Poem #6(NPM)

I should be heading home
of course I'm tired and my bed waits for me
but this play list in my Ipod has got me in the zone
tonight, I'm passing my exit with no destiny
my turn lane is approaching in three miles
not paying attention to my relaxed foot, heavy on the peddle
I could be a target for a violation
and at late night, you don't want the Po Po situation
cuz they crazy after midnight

But I'm grooving to Jaguar Wright, and she is nice
red lights and siren, can't ruin my night
sippin on green tea, moon roof half way open
no traffic to the front or back of me
the black Acura is constantly flowing
track 6 keeps going,
side nodding while rocking to CONYA
adjusting the EQ's, base up, while lowering my treble
lightning flashing in the clouds
while the moon beams on high
it would be nice though,
if there was a passenger on the side

but track 15 took me away from that
"I'm a orange moon, reflecting the light"
did you catch that,
ERYKAH being singing the hell of those tracks
I want to be, "far away from here, far away from here,
FAR AWAY FROM HERE,
see that's my track while speeding 91 in the AC
I'm so irresponsible
depriving myself of sleep I need
burning up gas with distance and speed
ask me if I care?
just one time in my life
I wanted to be on cruise control and GPS a destination to,
"St Elsewhere"
No phones ringing
Facebook can't find me
no one to go home too
all my problems are behind me
"Maybe I'll just Cruise.......Away from here"
the question is,
do I continue to drive until the road comes to a dead end
sit there idling until gas runs on fumes
pounding and tapping with my NEO-soul tunes
base high
hoping I may reach low cell in battery
or blow a few fuses real soon
I was suppose to turn back when last track, #76 ended
forgot the setting is on continuous,
a new play list was beginning
reset the GPS
next stop on Navigational map
an UNLIMITED DESTINATION marked with a red "X"

By LeRoy Goetzendanner

CLUTTER..... Day 5, Poem #5 (NPM)

Balled up trash in and out of my trash can
writers notebook stacked like sand bags during the storm
Books laying at angles with book marks of imcompletion
Pen shells in gigantic coffee mug with less than a period of ink
left in them
my favorite chair facing the window
laptop with bouncing tonguetwistnu screen saver
having a memory less than 6MB open for storage

These are the days of my horded life

empty wine bottles
corks tops stacked high to form a pyramid
collection of Cd's from poets and artist heard and unheard of
posters of famous writers, jazz artist and photography
t-shirts with famous quotes,
cigars ready to light and after a piece is complete
to the last page of a Meade spiral, stacks of posted notes
A calender with everyday filled in with poetry spots local and away
these are the routines, how a poet spend his day

These are the ways of my crowded life

Then came spring
the time of year I get rid of the old just to buy more new
"all I need is room, plenty of room"
but my space is consumed with reminders of my art
my love for the creativity
my connection in links, my poetic family
do I care if I walk through the door
fall to the floor
from tripping to a stack of books
hopscotching over a section of face down Cd's
avoiding statues, and paintings
standing pens and pencils(in aisles)

My home is my type of serenity away from cleaning
a mess that you just can't understand
one thing thrown away
takes me away from my foreign land
a clean house
is a place I can't identify with
a familiar that leaves me with amnesia
I am the clump in my trunk show

They call me............CLUTTER

By LeRoy Goetzendanner

REMEMBERING THAT FEELING......(#4, Day 4/NPM)

Kissing you can resolve a grown man's appetite
you fulfill me in our last time
which was the first time in a long time
we bonded in togetherness
and this time we both shared feelings
as I slowly inserted myself in
there was no time frame
no back away from me, with our in and out game
we breathed each others strokes
bit down on each others flex
hands intertwine, legs locking like pretzels
lips never skipped a connect
tongues outlining each other smiles
while my minty breath, to yours
cause each release in loud smacks and ahhs in moans
it was before our eyes, risen vapors in smoking mild

We did make love,
see we were able to concentrate on us
focusing more on our feelings with the fill ins
ignored all sounds other than our heartbeats
and suction announcements between pounding pelvises
we took our rhythm back to the Caribbean
whining to a song not yet created,
imagining we were Eve and Adam
wishing our release was the procreating start of humanity

God blessed us that night,
by giving us one more chance on a approach with opportunities
rekindled our love, in the mental and foundation of spirituality
See....
I can't...
I won't,
I made it a must not to forget that first and last night
the first time of all years, when you brought the sun into our night
I still hold on to that memory
I can't let go of the images
I move foreword to go back on one night privileges

I remember.........that feeling

By LeRoy Goetzendanner

DA ITCH......(Day #3 NPM)

Home alone,
wanted to scroll through my phone list
for one to bone
I can't sleep properly
I need the feeling and that workout
that has me knocked out, with tung out
and smiling in my sleep

dayum

This blood strain
got me swollen like a wasp sting
veins poppin out to northern pain
I'm open
but not for that self inflicting fix
somewhere, someone out there is going through what I'm feeling
who will respond to man down and standing up
911, night nurse, FWB come quick
No convo, except in physical slow mo
fast fwd button to thrusting hard on is it wet then dry tone
tossing
turning
can't get it out of my head
need to feel moisture, sweetness, muskiness in my room and bed

sigh

pressing play for the porno
F the glass, go heads up on the Moscato
unfair situation
I'm still without that isssh
going to sleep on my own knock out
Dayum I got DA ITCH.....

By LeRoy Goetzendanner

ALMOST.....(Day #2, NPM)

I come very close to love, loving, and being in love
and each time, I succeed a little more than the last
The demons in the rear of me reminding me of the past
"as I poet",
I'm born to say the right things
with the right lines
manipulate minds time after time
and this is my leaning
I was brought up to respect a woman
take care of a woman
and love a woman
but I find little hope of keeping a woman
thats when it happened

My last chance.......

was shorter than a probation period
as I was quickly taken on a high
because the first time in my life,
I was on a mental connection that had me lifted
I took in her breath and tasted each exhale
felt the earth moving from her heart beat
found the strength again when I lived in weak
but somehow I travel down a different street
I was plotting on her heart,
cuz I felt mine being offer to her as well
but there is always a side that comes to light
that side you don't want to admit is your life

And as I hid this part of me, focusing on the representing me
the disappointing me, displayed its selfishness
I became more complicated
my own name become the reality of my beliefs
I was no longer taking the long way to your heart
I was playing with it, when I didn't earn it
I took it like I was a thief
made you hurt in grief
while day in and day out, I was getting colder
while you were steady fighting in what you believed
 Now look at me,
filling the vacancy announcement of being alone
watching you walking away while finding happiness on your own
see there is no such thing as love so close
you either are in love, or you are in lust
as the true reflection revealed itself in the mirror
it came to me, it was me all along....
now I live with the new name, " ALMOST"!

By LeRoy Goetzendanner

30 DAYS OF THOUGHTS (Day#1, NPM) Late entry

I guess this will be my confession
a transgression to imperfect progrssion
I'm taking all suggestions
if I can be a poet,
than, why can I evolve into a spoken word profession
why can't I let go of bringing papers to stages
like I easily letting go another Love chapter,
written on two pages
where is my passion?
I can start with ending as the beginning
speak with feeling as if it just happen
but had happen was
I still can't recite anything and everything that went from fantasy
now all my dried inks memories
is this my turmoil
is writing and posting poetry, is what is meant for me??

Question to myself, "why do you write"?
Do you deserve the right to be wrongfully delegated as a poet?
Are you just writing for the enticement,
cause your brain produces images, your pens need to eject inks
so later your paper can hold scribble, as after the laughter it would show it
who is this floet
prediction of common usage, like that of a pre-schooler
your phrases are short term, like you memory it wont learn
while your writes are as long as a wood ruler

Your not going to make it in this art
your creativity is just repeated thoughts with a different title
you can't even fall back in your seat during a interview
and give your critique or personal view
what or who is poetry is you muse, who do you claim as your idol

Now I lay my pen on to paper
I prayed my lines are as strong as the maker
if all mypoems replies is true to my face
then there one less poet who can make this mistake,

I stand in my own shadow
before the moon becomes full
and we will see
see
if I can survive 29 more days
with substance,
and writing in bull......