My eyes are open.
The sun shining reminds me
I am alive, kicking in
I am yawning, a lions grin.
I slept in.
Let me get a little caffeine,
And let’s let the story begin.
Not bad, my eyes open a bit.
Think about what I have to do today.
Cancel them all.
Go surf on the waves.
Here a ding in the distance
Its my alarm ringing
Alerting me to something.
No big deal, I am sure it’s fine
Third sip of coffee
Quarter til nine.
And I think to myself
Coffee and cigarettes, I have been smoke free
For nearly two weeks.
Good for me.
Fourth sip, getting into a routine
Fingers slash the keyboard,
No more nicotine, but still more
Caffeine, so much caffeine that my eyes
the life of a writer is the only life for me.
Fifth sip, I’m pretty awake, going to the beach today
Its going to be good. I promised it would
Enough of the backlash, lets go get a sunbath.
My wife is waiting on me to get some breakfast
She is reading me the weather.
“76 today, breezy and pleasant.”
I have been waiting for this day. Could it get any better?
Sixth and Seventh sip, I am pretty sure I am on full alert
Running this shit, like dinner and dessert
Walking a hot dog, wearing a hamburglar shirt,
Yeah, I’m on top of this game. It don’t even hurt a bit
To be so legit with the bic, that I can put rhymes down like this
And can keep it going, on and on…and you don’t stop
Drinking up coffee from the coffee pot.
Eighth sip, I’m in full gear
Working the angles like a carpenter, like a news ledger
I’m on the letter.
Ninth sip, I got to get going
The grass needs mowing, the cows are mooing
The waves are crashing, the angels are dancing
I feel good.
Tenth sip to freedom,
I borrowed that from the band Sublime
Cause today is a good day to rhyme, on time
I would say 40 ounces o freedom
But my coffee is in a pint glass.
So, chill on that for a second.
Let me ask the rest of the class,
Deart poetry 101, is it ok to stretch the truth
In a lyrical run,
Would it be an homage or an ode
If I say whats up to Bradley Nowell. In a poem
Even though he passed on so long ago?
Hey Poetry class is this a poem to you?
I mean it started having meter but went off the rails, do
You think that I am writing this with or without caffeine?
Yeah class, the caffeine in me writes quality poetry.
Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.