Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Welcome to My Little Corner of the Internet

Random thoughts, unsolicited opinions, personal stories, and the occasional rant. I’ve been around long enough to have a few things to say, and apparently nobody thought to stop me from putting them on the internet.

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  • Individual Writing Conferences

    ENG 112, today we had Individual Writing Conferences, to let each student know how they are doing in class. I sat down across from Professor Theile, written works collected in my folder, my journal ready for his inspection. “You’re getting an A in this class.” he says “Do you have any questions?” “No,” I say, and then think… yes. “Why am I getting an A?” I press “You’re a great writer and you participate in…

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  • My Pa

    I don’t know how old he is, but today is my Pa’s birthday.The only real father I’ve ever hadalways there for meshowed me things I didn’t knowgot me to mow lawnsmade me laughtaught me the value of naps, procrastination and eating I guess it’s appropriate that my poem “Foster Home” was read today in class, and given an asterisk saying I should have it published. Happy Birthday Pa, I love and miss you.

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  • Fresh Coffee and Broad Grins

    It’s cold and I’m tired, hat pulled down low over my eyes I step into the 7-11. I can smell the coffee brewing right away, my destination is just ahead I can almost taste the coffee scalding its way down my throat. “Hi.” comes a voice, through the fog that is my morning. I glance up and see a handsome man, nice goatee and broad smile, he works here, I see the 7-11 name marks…

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  • Spring Break

    The beach, the sun; scantilly clad, tan men …. ah, Spring Break. But not for me, I’m old and in Chesapeake, where its a little too chilly to wear a bathing suit outside. But there is good news, the trees are all blosoming… eyes are all irritated and itchy, sneezing… ah, spring.

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  • DJ

    his tongue drops brandy on my lips heart pulses hard, hot, steel rod in my hand trace fingers over silken chest sweat trickles, salty sweet migrate to manhood thirst, hunger, greed… or need panting, groaning twin bed creaking pain and heat, friction so sweet legs a vice around him pulling him deeper, harder tempo, crescendo white lava spurts he growls and thrusts pain and need fulfilled with lust

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  • An Hour Away

    It’s Wednesday, an hour away from Test II in Algebra II…I’ve done my homework, studied and studied some more, but still feel very unsure of myself.Math people, I’m convinced, are from another planet… or just plain crazy. Who else would find 600 different ways to add 2+2? Handed in my three original poems, two of which have been posted on here, the last one I’ll probably post when I get home. The only good part…

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  • Children's Hospital of Hopes and Dreams

    Rainbow halls and cubical stallsMs Elliott’s smiling facePink Flamingo’s in Chen’s space Nurses to the left, hearts full of love“Hello Mary Lou”, he coosKim and Keetra, Diana too Marianne, Sonia and Donna right therePurple office is Ann’s, always will beCDC peeps come next, Von, Waldo and Z Social Workers en mass, near the faxCourtney, Allie, SarahAlbert, Cardia and Rashida Jacquelyn’s gone now, sent to heaven…Project CHAMP is down the hallWith Denise and Phyllis, and Donna’s…

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  • Recovery…

    I’m getting the impression from the news media that New Orleans is ok, as long as people can get drunk and rowdy! Hell, as long as we have alcohol and women flashing their tits in public… the American dream is still alive and well.

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  • Curious George

    “People don’t need to worry about security.” George W. Bush Ah, but we do Monkey Boy! You and your people have been telling us to worry about security for 6 odd years… You can’t have it both ways! We can’t rely on Dick Cheney for security, he only shoots American’s. Attempts by you and Brokeback Cheney to get your terrorist/oil rich friends access to our ports will fail… I hope. Yes Mr. President, we have…

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  • foster home

    brown house now blue gray hair then and now too Ma in rocker knitting Pa in recliner fear crawls up my spine my bags packed, all that is mine social worker pressures shoulder keeps me from running dinner together, conversation and laughter alien world, foreign notions – food a plenty tears delay that first night, though hard fought, buried deep rules, responsibility, chores wake up myself for school wash dishes, mow lawns allowance? what’s that?…

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