THE 10 STEP PROGRAM

By Akhigbade Francis

Within an empty room

my imagination craves scattered pieces of scribble on paper.

Step 1.

Random doodles relax free formed lines.

Step 2.

Deep concentration, “ohm… Breath, ohm… Breath, ohm… Breath”

Breathing inspires a mind jog through steep hills of boredom

Step 3.

Joints must be shaken

stirring hands within a mix of cocoa butter and sweat releases stress,

Stress releases

Step 4.

                          ‘Shake, Shake, Shake, Shake

Shake What Your Momma Gave You

Shake, Shake, Shake, Shake!’

Shaking over used ink

Free from a plastic cell stiffened and rigid

directs a perfect mate to my paper.

Paper mate

Black baby BLACK

Just the way I like it, one moment before Step 5.

Rewind the images of

‘my life, my life, my life, my life,

in the sunshine’

NO that won't work

Too cliché

That's not the way I intend my ramblings to be digested

Step 5 stresses the importance of dictionary supplements

Words so spicy they excite the pallet when spoken aloud

Syllable's crisp and juicy,

causing the mouth to water at the very mention of

auditory resuscitation.

Without warning, pen hits paper.

With the rage of a drunken lover strokes flow

strokes flow

showing no mercy

the attack is furious!

On an inanimate victim naked and exposed strokes flow

strokes flow

with force

this mute tongue lashes

rips a delicate medium

which submissively accepts the abuse given.

With no reply completely docile strokes flow

the barrage is over

strokes flew

The premature conclusion:

Step 6.

A mental block to the head

stunning the written word with endless verbatim

shining

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy

shining

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy

shining

All work and no play makes Jack a dull…

images stop cold

frozen from brain freeze

damage has been done

my name’s not Jack

Thoughts are jars of honey        I forget

fully placed in an empty beat-up refrigerator.

A place I often visit when verbally handicapped.

My hands drip sticky from visions

which slip through shaking fingers, clawing for sustenance.

Clawing for some idea

Any random image will do

My desire is not self-gratifying

My ego doesn't need stroking

At least not from those who see expression as an easy target

to be judged by their super pseudo poetry.

If I wanted to hear shit,

I'd bend over and listen to my own ass!

Step 7 offers a divine moment

when clarity solidifies inspiration

within a mirage of warm understanding

much like sex     

I'm coming

I'm coming

I'm coming

closer to the subject.

8 is enough  what more can be said about personal experience

unless Step 8 overshadows my arrogance.

You see, I write what I believe to be the truth

locked within a heart

attacked from every angle

weak from the projection of threats belittling my manhood.

Where's my nine?

Where's my nine?!

Where's my ninth step?!

Step 9.

Be true to yourself

Focus on solidifying agenda

creating title

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