Thursday, June 4, 2009


The following stories/poems are for my lovely daughter, Luna Luz Allat.

Mic Trippin'

“I’m really sick, Poppy!”
“Awww, what’s making you feel sloppy?”
“But I’m so sick! I don’t know how I’ll get well quick.”
“Well here. Calm down and sip this water. Tell it to me all and don’t falter.”
“I’ll tell you all of it. No rocky skips cause I’m about to flip. Dizzy like I’m gonna trip. Stomach aching like it’s squeezed with a whip. And my head hurting!---Oh I think I’m gonna trip.”
“Hey, get a grip. Don’t mic trip! Iza will rub your tummy.”
“Okay. And she’ll make me something yummy?”
“Far from crummy, she’s no dummy. Anita Baker will play and it’ll make your day. Relax and tell me mores. Give me the tales on your sores?”
“In my class, way more than four, and a bit less than a score I thought I heard Jay say something about the play.
Went to Kimberly gingerly, ‘Hey, what’d Jay say about the play? Is it about the day or the way we say?’
Kimberly say, ‘Nothing’s astray with the play. No one has to pay to see our way.’
Then I wasn’t worried anymore ‘cause I thought we had to hurry some more.”

“Ok. So it’s all to the good.”
“No, I’m just starting to make it understood. Alex and Alexis cough and sneeze. They cover their mouths but did that make me weeze? Yamile saw my pen fall and I touched the floor after the wall.”
“To pick up the pen?”
“Did I get sick just then? The pen rolled on some dirt and stains got on my shirt.”
“Wash your hands regularly to prevent the hurt.”
“Right, Poppy. Being right I’ll more than copy. Some more to the fable, I think I messed up at the dinner table. Milk and meats aren’t holy treats but I still took that over the beets!”
“Well, milky eats and sweaty meats are trick treats but don’t sadden with defeat. Whatever was taken away can be added stronger today.”
“And did the remedies remedy when friends of me gave ‘em to me? Karla gave me lots of vitamin C and all the germs will flee. Selene gave me sanitizing wipes so I can swipe dirt away wise. More and more of your salad and ballad, working my qi and drinking white tea but I’ll still be ailing and wailing.”
“One last thing, the great song to sing, the only thing you’ll always need to always feed. Your mind is the bind for everything kind. Let it unblind the blind so you can master your fears. Let it hear the unheard so your heart does more than tear. Let it bum any dumb so you stay a blossomed plum. Only and always your thought will wrought all brought round you.”
“Thank you Poppy. I feel better.
Can we play too?”

“All of them to the letter.
I love you too…”

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