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posted : 2005.May.04 @ 7.42pm
I Used To, But Now

I used to run every day
but now, I go for walks.
I used to run the L.A. Marathon,
but now, I might catch it on TV.
I used to drive forty minutes to work,
but now, I just walk ten minutes
and I am there.
I used to work in a sweat shop in East L.A.
but now, I teach
in an air-conditioned classroom
I used to be a trash man, floor sweeper,
flower deliverer, weed chopper,
factory worker, beach cleaner,
bus boy, box boy, bus driver,
security guard, steel worker,
but now, I am an artist and a teacher,
I used to get sent to the principal's office,
but now, I send people there

Cool







posted : 2005.May.11 @ 12.12am
Hey D, I'm taking the liberty of posting this one.
Hope you don't mind Embarassed

My Stack of Prints
by Big D

I have a stack of art prints
that I rescued from the trash
It’s a fabulous collection
and it’s all my private stash

I have a Hopper and a Homer
Pisarro and Corot.
A Monet and a Manet
Picasso and Van Gogh

When I tell my students about these paintings
and the price they fetch these days
Their eyes grow wide with wonder
I can see it in their gaze

40 million dollars
for that painting in your hand?
And you say it’s now locked away
in some basement in Japan?

Now my classroom is a gallery
with paintings everywhere you look
The east wall is the Metropolitan
the west wall is the Louvre

These prints are a rainbow treasure
of art from everywhere
they teach us and inspire us
they have so much to share

Each life contains a masterpiece
buried deep inside
we only have to pull it out
from the dumpster of our lives







posted : 2005.May.12 @ 5.00pm
I don't mind at all, Meloyelo. Post on! Post on!
Here's one that I wrote back in the good old days
when they used to allow us to leave the classroom
for an occasional glimpse of reality.

La Viuda Negra

At the top of the hill
In a hole in the ground
at the end of the dusty trail
a mysterious widow is waiting for you
behind her silken veil

She wears a dress of greasy black
a ruby on her chest
Spinning her lunch in a silver sack
In the darkness of her nest

Clinging fast to unborn babies
With arms so black and long
Be careful not to kiss her
Her poison is too strong

At the top of the hill
In a hole in the ground
at the end of the dusty trail
A thousand eyes are watching you
from behind a silken veil






    

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