If I Were King of The World

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This isn’t my most eloquent poem. I’m aware. My silly and playful side needs an outlet, too. For now, I’ve locked angst in the closet.

If I were king of the
world. For this poem
let’s suppose that
this is a thing.

I would never lose
touch with the details.
I would answer all
your calls.

I would be a regular
at the Starbucks you
hang out in.

There would be laugher
in thunder. I wouldn’t
pretend to be bigger
than you.

Salvation would be
found in art and folly.

The mourning doves
would learn jazz and
how to wing it.

The livable life would
be embraced. Slow on
recliners and TV viewing.

Everyone would have
a place at my table.
I would dispense milk
and clothes, but never
unsolicited advice.

Good sex and good
manners would be
cultivated.

Love would come
without conditions.
I would lay my kisses
on imperfections
and celebrate the
different and strange.

I would do my best to
catch hearts falling
from pine trees.

Everyone would be
required to read Henry
Miller and Fitzgerald.

The Karxashians and E
would be banned to their
own island. Egos and
ignorance too.

Like any king, I would
contradict myself, but
mostly, with humor and
nonsensical poetry.

Water would be
plentiful. Wine too.

I wouldn’t take away
all your burden, some
are needed. How flimsy
our characters would be
without them.

Earth would be spun
in hope. There would
be 7 days of fun. The
8th day, chocolate.

Instead of a robe
and crown, I would
wear yoga pants
and a T-shirt with
James Purefoy face
on it. Everyone would
know who James
Purefoy is.

Words would live in
evey home. Love
would hang out in
the kitchen.

The inner world would
would trump the outer,
which reminds me,
there would be no
Donald Trump.

-Tosha Michelle

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Not Quite Love in an Elevator

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Some people keep in
touch via the phone,
the internet, weekly
lunch dates.

You keep in touch by
pissing me the hell off.
Lightening up our
elevator display
of toxicity until
we’re stuck between
floors.

Listen, do you hear that?
that’s my head lacerating
on the wall.

My sense of peace
fractured.
Go ahead pick the bone.
I’m done battling
scratched glass.
Drag me through it.

It’s time to rinse
off the anger,
and nail all 1483 of my
grievances to your
sanctimonious door.

Martin Luther and me
the grand reformers
He sowed in grace.
I’m more prone to
mace.

Maybe, I’ll just try to
lose you in a place
I’ll never find again.
Unraveling your
foothold or finding
mine, up your………

I’ll save the hair pulling
spear throwing, and
obscene gestures of
distain for terrorists
and guys named Tad.

I’ll just vent my anger
in a silly poem
Snide as my temper,
but light as numbers
with no equations,
letters missing
sentences, and a
poet whistling
satirically at madness.

-Tosha Michelle

Of Bees, Veins, and Rage

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In the aftermath, when
anger grows.
The quivering sets in
like
hundreds of bees let
loose inside
your veins, the mind
screaming
expletives. You shake,
it starts in
the head and works
it’s way down,
like a toxic virus, it
invades the
lungs. It takes all the
resolve you
have to hold back
bitter words
from lips held taunt
Your jaw
like a vise. Images
best left
to the imagination
all in red.
You know if the quiver
takes you,
rage wins so instead
you write
You write away the sting,
the cold,
until the fever is gone
Words and
bees, rustling with pollen,
fall like
evening from your pen.

-Tosha Michelle

Some Men

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Some men will kiss you
on the street and then
forget your name the
next time you meet.
Some men will study
you with the attention
of Michelangelo, taking
in every nuance
Beautifully engrossed.
You’ll revel in their
fascination.
Some men should be
frisked for secret
weaponry, always
out to butcher your
heart.

Some men are crazy,
but say it’s you instead.
Some men will tie you,
naked to the bed,
satiating your relentless
longing, until you wink
like a fine piece of China
licked clean.
Some men aren’t familiar
with knots or your G spot

Some men are cold
December their last address
Some men refuse to keep a
padlock on their libido,
never content in a single shed
Some men are like cherry cola,
a bag of pepperoni combos,
Oreo cookies, and licorice.
You’ll want to gorge straight
out of the vending machine,
but they’ll leave you with a sick
stomach and rotting teeth.
Some men are soft and sweet.
These you usually call friend

Some men are lost things
They stay on your tongue
Long after the last sentence
has been spoken
These are the ones you write
poems about. Poetry that lives
off of the debris of what was
Your litany to starry nights,
shared history, bourbon shots,
and the nostalgic route that
always looks more scenic
looking back.

Some men you’ll never forget
These are the ones you
surrender to.
The men that leave you
so wind altered all you can
do is fall.
They stay rooted in your heart
for life. You’ll find yourself
swaying to their phantom
breeze, long after they are gone
These are the men who teach
you about yourself.
They fold your soul back,
forcing you to look inside,
inspiring you, to rearrange
and change. -Some
men you’ll love eternally.
These are those men.

-Tosha Michelle

Self Help to Self Harm: The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships.

I really hate self promotion. My friend Andy is a pro at it. I’m borrowing a page from him. Please check out my latest book

Self Help to Self Harm: The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships.

Hey, I didn’t say the page I borrowed wasn’t obnoxious. The Bold and Annoying.

But I digress ( don’t I always?)

Self Help to Self Harm: The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships. (can’t stop, won’t stop)

is a humorous, tongue-in-cheek look at life, love, and relationships, tempered by moments of serious introspection. This book won’t get you laid, help you lose ten pounds, cure your addictions, or draw you closer to God or Starbucks (whatever you worship).

Way to sell it, right? Hopefully, it will make you chuckle and cause you to rethink your One Direction hate.

You can purchase the book here:

http://amzn.com/0692417400

If you like it,  I’d really appreciate if you would consider leaving a review on Amazon, GoodReads, and Barnes&Noble. If you don’t like it..well…keep that sh** to yourself. Kidding.

Ten Things Women Wished Men Knew. (from the Dear Men files)

I tend to be either deeply philosophical or deeply silly. I’ll let you decide where my mood falls tonight.

Dear Men,

I know you live for my letters. The tips that just keep on giving. In that vein, I present my latest top ten list. Take notes.

1. We women like to be taken but not in a way that requires our fathers to bring out their particular set of skills. You know the ones they have acquired over their long career. No, we want be taken up against the wall, on the kitchen counter, on your desk, etc. We love to feel wanted and desirable.

2. Pet names can be very sweet. However, don’t make them too cutesy. There’s nothing sexy about being called Kissy Kibbles, Schnookums or Licky Sticky Poo.

3. It is never appropriate to call us a bit** or by your ex-girlfriend’s name.

4.You don’t fake foreplay. We won’t fake an orgasm.

5. Ladies first. See number 4.

6. There’s something extremely sexy about a man who can recite Shakespeare while listening to Bach as he fixes a leaky pipe.

7. Be romantic. Note, sometimes being romantic simply means doing the laundry.

8. Listen to us, dam*it

9. You’re adorable when you are shaving, driving, being kind to your mother, holding a baby. etc.

10. Love us. Respect us. Protect us. Do us.

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Suki, Lattes, Chaos, and Gratitude

Randomness

I’ve learned that expectations can often lead to heartache. Assumptions can lead to misunderstandings. I try to adhere to the following rules.(not sure “rules” is the right word ) Live what you speak. Hope without reason. Love without conditions. Give without expectations. Dream without limitation, but never deluded yourself.  Be, and let be.  Of course, maybe, I am full of sh**. Kicking boxing, hiking, and darting throwing, can’t hurt either.

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I know. Why you gotta be so rude? My mom hates this picture.

OK. Thanksgiving is coming up. I thought I would blog about a few things I am grateful for. Of course, giving it my weird spin. It goes without saying, that I am thankful for my family and friends. Their love and support is everything. I am also grateful for the beauty of nature, the soulfulness of music and the escapism of books.

Now, for my unconventional list of gratitude

I’m thankful I grew up in a time where reading was valued, reality wasn’t scripted, and social networking happened on a playground, a time before sexing, the Kardashians, Kesha, skinny jeans,and so called “real” housewives

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I’m grateful that Pumpkins Spice Latte season is over. (UGH)

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In the same vein, I am stoked, it is the season of Peppermint Mocha Lattes (yummy)

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I’m thankful my celebrity crush, Timothy Olyphant was born. (hubba, freakin, hubba)

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I’m so grateful, I am petite.  I lie. In my next life, I plan on having legs that won’t quit instead of a mouth.

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I’m thankful my mom didn’t name me Suki. Yes, it was a contender. Seriously, WTH? We are of Irish and Scottish descent. Southern, etc. Suki. really?. Tosha is bad enough.  However….

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Finally, I’m thankful for my current jam. Banks get me. 🙂

Mark Kingwell, Silliness, the Podcast to Be and A Top Twenty List.

On Jan 12th La Literati welcomes Canadian philosopher Mark Kingwell to the show. My co-host and I have the utmost respect for Mark and are giddy about the booking. OK, giddy might be too strong of a word, but we are happy. Niles and I have a running gag going about being stood up for the podcast. We’re really wondering why he said yes. What can I tell you, underneath the guise of adulthood lurks two insecure sixteen year old girls begging to come out. Niles says “speak for yourself.” At any rate, I thought it would be funny to come up with a list of excuses Mark might give for being a no show. I’m also trying to promote the podcast in a semi clever way. (clever is in the eye of the reader, I suppose)

I give you 20 potential Kingwell excuses.

And Mark says…”so Niles and what’s your face, I really hate to bail on you guys but…”

1.  “My sister-in-law’s friend’s cousin’s father’s uncle tragically lost his pet turtle. The details are just too sordid to share.”
2. “My re-gifting recipient list demands to be written. Christmas will be here again before you know it.”
3. “I’ve fallen. I could get up, but I refuse”
4.  “I never go on a podcast on days that end with day.”
5. “I thought I was going to be on LA Literati. What the fu^* is La Literati? What language is this?”
6.  “I have to attend Charles Manson’s wedding.”
7. “I’ve been meaning to get a Rob Ford tattoo on my shoulder and it can’t wait.”
8. “I’m just way too busy chewing gum.”
9. “I have an important call from a telemarketer, and I HAVE to take it”
10. “I’ve been putting off making my Justin Bieber scrapbook.” (Bieber fever won’t wait)
11. “It just wouldn’t be fair to all the other brilliant people.”
12. “Summer will be here before you know it. I need to work out. Those Speedos won’t wear themselves”
13. “I’ve been putting off reading Fifty Shades of Grey. E.L. James is calling to me.”
14. “Signing up for an AOL account. It’s way overdue.”
15. “I’ve being dying to take a beets bath”
16. “My diet has been sorely lacking in kale lately. I must eat some NOW”
17. “I need to spend some serious time thinking up more excuses for why I can’t do the show.”
18. “I’m writing a new book on sardines and I have a deadline to meet”
19. “Kesha is in town for one day only. I can’t miss this concert”
20. “I need to get two restraining orders. How do you spell your names again?”

and bonus

21. “I just read your asinine list on WordPress.”

 http://www.blogtalkradio.com/laliteraticarpelibrum/2015/01/12/la-literati-welcomes-professor-and-author-mark-kingwell

It’s OK if in 2014…

Your New Year’s resolution doesn’t get any deeper than conditioner . …If Pier One Imports is your happy place. ..to secretly crave Godiva chocolate, horde Godiva chocolates and hide Godiva chocolates from your family’s grubby little hands (They’re mine I tell you. MINE) …if you read Fifty Shades of Grey and liked it. (I mean I didn’t of course, but if you did it’s OK..No shame. ;)) …If you secretly long to be a warrior princess but are more of a nerdy chick who gets lost in her own head and parking lots …to be a little freaked out by escalators. (Escalaphobia is real, people. Down with judgment …up with awareness.. down with misconceptions…up with facts…is anyone else dizzy?) …It’s also OK to love without conditions …to dream without limitations … to hope without expectations and to live without fear.

(It’s not OK to shorten words into monosyllables…I mean that’s  just cray, bae..kay?)

Ode to My Cat.

The silliest of silliest..

Not Quite-The Cat in The Hat….

My cat can rock, My cat can roll.

He knows how to keep with the beat.

Dancing around in the streets.

My cat can recite Shakespeare with ease

You see, he’s fluent in  CATionese

My cat is king of all he surveys.

Mostly, he’s surveys his food bowl.

My cat  is an expert at snoozing.

Who knows.. perhaps,  he’s been boozing.

My cat is the greatest of muses.

Poets and writers he inspires.

My cat is cool…the coolest of the cool.

He’ll snort his nip. And not give a …sh…..amen

My cat is a saint and a sinner.

His whole world revolves around dinner.

My cat is a superior

Just look at his posterior.

My cat is the greatest.

And now it been stated.

My cat will never be overrated.

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This nonsense brought to you by-Crazy Cats Ladies Everywhere and Yours Truly.

Happy Holidays!! May your turkeys and stockings be stuffed. The love and wine ever flowing. and may Santa find you being naughty and nice. xo