11 out of 22 poems for my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.



A Thursday where aunts die and grandmothers’ earth suits are viewed without breath or blood.
Wherein attempts to revitalize yourself, you wore your brightest summer shades: pink, teal, and orange.
Your heart aches at constant ripping and repair, scattered with sawdust.
Exhausted with dosages of heartbreak medicine.
Little snack-size dark chocolates cannot sweeten the bitter taste.
The coarsest wool salts against raw skin, applauding the assortment of thoughts and fears.
Frosted with the softest sprinkles of high voltages of intense emotion,
you linger
Like an afflicted body spread on a racing gurney with closed eyes and labored breath,
sensing the changes in light from hall to hall and room to room.
But this is not movie, not at all a feature film,
this is our life.
Absorbent of both the best and the worst of what the lowlands have to offer.
Let it all fade away, tie your sunbonnet under the walnut tree and hum spirituals until everything stops.
A birth has been reported.
A rebirth has been reported.
The corset of life has been loosened,
The wallet that contains your strength is filled.
Back in orbit.

10 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.
Limbo, Limbo, Limbo

Slink your shoulders underneath the broom bar, 
Tilt your back towards the Earth.
Ah, this middle ground betwixt near and far,
A pose to prep for passing; checkpoint before rebirth.

Fair-warnings blow to let not this game 
Become a humble abode, a phase become a form.
Not cold, not hot. Nor bold, nor tame.
Limbo outperforms none, what a drab cruciform!
To hang, nailed hands, awaiting death and fire.
Before I land in limbo again, I would rather fall on a spire.

9 of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.


Fear of the Brink?Wild blink.
Applaud withdrawin link to
Vital earth,fresh Ground-ed
Not sink
Blot ink. Cornucopia’s retreat…
Shroud miserable company
Now – Forgotten, Inc.

“Genie-ology”, lampshady labwork
Pick a Pair half-Work
Make it fully have worth
Crackles echo Skittle paper-
Thunderclad surf
Extremes, esteemin em things like Kings had serfs

My Lord,
Thy torn, World.
Reformed ever by Morn, hurled To-Day
Curly as cumulus, my Girl touché.
Inlaid through da Dust, scape curves voluminous
Fake shapes losin fluff
Proving us.
GodGold IncuPlated
You to Trust

By: (husband) Robert e. Fitzgerald a.k.a. Whip

8 out of 22 poems for my king: Birthday Variety

Love, Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry., RetroStank

to a jewel of a man,
always strong even in the dark.
my sunbeam.
love streams from my soul for u.
its a keynote, played at fortissimo.
i send u the fruit of my fancy.
as we pen this love tale.

-Ladylove blu (Lauren Fitzgerald, me)

7 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

doing things like driving alone at the dead of night.

scared on a lonely old country road in the pouring rain.

in black sequins and satin blazers, I reach Stuttgart and know I’m close.

Memphis is like the heavens to a Moon waiting to greet the Sun.

bank accounts on the slim sides don’t count none to a young pair.

a pair of dreamers.


finding a pillow for the Saint,

and now its seven-thirty,

and in the most sensuous way imaginable, two souls form a{maze} of embraces,

unraveling a love for each other in such a whispering way,

its just understood.



i can see the beauty in marriage when i see you sleep.



the country dinner i prepare signals nights to come.

that hour you got to think, I wonder what you thought?

before the errands for currency and smiles for two at nineties’ movies and you falling asleep before me.



when we can hardly getout the bed for tangling in it.

ice and acrobatics.


this love has a green apple and caramel taste to it.

water in dem curls of yours.


fried fish, fries, friends, baked beans, broken ice machines, and tomato relish.

then once again we’re off, to divide once more.

the last kiss is the sweetest.

By: (Me) Lauren Fitzgerald

“Ruby Slipperz” 6 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

We search, seek, and destroy for distractions.

Unfulfilled in distant lands…400 years still aint home.


Bronze fingers.


Sometimes when you leave home you caint go back.

Cuz it’s not where you left it.


Vice Chancellors patronize, advising just take 

This semester as a mental break.


Aint no open arms for some…


Starving the same way out of school as in.

College ramen-noodle diets.

Pet dogs eat better and more often.


By: Lauren Fitzgerald 

5 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

Zones 1-6

atlanta is a place where nobody asks where you from

it dont matter as we blend in together,

making a beautiful harmony of colors.

funky free,

i feeeeel my star brightening the avenue as i slightly gallop through little five points,  

trying to outrun the rain

laughter lives here, it collects in the air

atlanta is a dreamland

head spins loose in a trance

entrance granted

you knew the password

Maggot Brain

the bass based in my heartbeat 

the song in my veins

he will never leave you, he just visits other places 

always thinking of you

Atlanta with hands of a master teacher

giving me lessons on how to survive with my head up and my soul alive

gulps of air and teary vision

hazel leaves decorate city streets and the sun dries me like a towel after a shower

fumbling trying to click on the internal flashlights that number 144

she’s both bitch and beauty

that lady Atlanta

just to touch her again

her cacophony of street hollers and bus sounds

eat to your hearts desire

she will fill you again and again

4 out 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.


Mister Fur 


By: (Me)Lauren “Crayola Mae” Fitzgerald


You look new. 

And I’m taken in.

Not wasting a moment of this, gotta have leftovers.

Something for my mind to eat on when you depart from my space. 

Tragically in love with you, razor sharp feelings that cannot be dulled by 


Not the ashes that grace the ground where ambition burned our present union. 

You whispered to me, babygirl you’re amazing, and I wonder if you truly believe 

how much? 

And that just brought tears to my eyes, sent a tremble in motion from crown to 

foot soles and from physical to soul.

Overlook the past, I plead.

My heart falls from my sleeve and you dust it off and put it back, back where it’s posed to go, 

in the left chest cavity.

Brilliance cloaks you as a skin, a pelt of fur of the most unique beast.

Animal and god, and what am I? 

The powerful petite. Word woman.

3 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.


“Indian Ocean” 


Slightly wet eyes

Come about for an assortment of reasons.

Because a white-pearl stained dress blemished with diamonds and embroidery stands opposite a sharp sable-toned tuxedo.

Or maybe the first steps of a firstborn.

Or after a song sung so soulfully in Sunday service.



Spritely strolls across stages, hands itching to palm rolled paper deservingly secured and mightily merited

Movies, wars, surprise birthday parties, sickness, or bills

Yeah, tears run into eyeballs and jump out ready to greet the world


2 of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety (original poetry)

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.



The ditches look good with no water in them.

Clean, even.  

More like a Mocksville than a Nashville. 

The morning air is still and sweet.

I take a long drag of it. 

Despite the fact that we were just rushing around like demons busy on this Earth.

Cuz we woke up thirty minutes too late, and you were posed to do the prayer at 10 o’clock service.

I get in the passenger seat of my car, smile at you.

I guess you were thinking about not being late and I was thinking about how beautiful you are, 

how handsome of a spirit ambling among us regular menfolk, womenfolk. 

You’re sharp.

Can speak to anybody, hell I suspect you could chop it up with the Head of State right now, leave him with his mouth dropped.


You could get the bitterest of bitter bitty to show you what’s left of her teeth.  

And that’s why I love you, beyond belief.

By: Me (Lauren Fitzgerald)

1 of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.



 Wind and Wings
Be the pages of my book.
Be the flour, milk, and eggs to my pancake mix.
Be the amen to my testimony.
Be the worm to my fishhook.
Be the nine to my six.
Be the little to my pony.
Be my better half in matrimony.
Be the propaganda to my politics.
Be the Bond to my Jinx.
Be the pyramid to my Sphinx.
Be the money in my pocketbook.
Be the bra that gets unhooked.
Be the laughter to my joke.
Be the baby blue to my pink.
14 ways to transfix me.
So I can be the princess to your prince.
The ace boon coon to your clique.
The sex that drives a nymph.
The survival of your battleship.
The relief of a drunk piss. 
The reason to quit to an addict. 
The Rolex to ya wrist.
The screenplay to ya script.
The velvet to yo fingertips.
The midnight to your kiss.
 The memory lane to your reminsce.
The treat to your trick.
The concede to your  insist.
The Sierra to yo Mist.
The truth to shut down the hypocrites.
The shrimp to yo white cheddar grits.
Much more and all these things,
This is what my king is to me. 

Saturday Sound brought to you by Andy Allo “This Bed”


Andy Allo is so bomb! Her song “This Bed” was my 2012 anthem.

The lyrics are exactly what young broke college students be going through.

She was born literally the day after me, same year and everything. She’s a true musician: both guitarist and pianist. AND she was in Prince’s band, The New Power Generation.

Her official website is http://alloevolution.com/

RetroStank (type) music…tasty little throwback selection.


LESSONS from RetroStank


1. They Don’t All Have To Like You. 

2. Heartful words CAN Change Moods & UPLIFT.

3. There Is An Inherent Joy In Being You, So Be You.

4. Telling somebody something they Do Not Want To Hear Doesn’t Make You A Bad Person.

5. A Sense Of Wonder Does Wonders. Look at LIFE With Fresh Eyes. Enjoy Your Freedom. Enjoy Your Loved Ones. Taking THINGS & PEOPLE FOR GRANTED IS OUT. Live with Amazement.

6. Encourage Yourself and When You Can, Encourage Others.

7. Appreciate The POSITIVE, GREAT, BEAUTIFUL things about Your Life. 

8. Think of All The Good Things That Happen To You and Get Happy & More Importantly, Grateful. 

9. Sift Through Your Pain for Your Past, Present and Future are affected by it. 

With Love,


Penned: December 10, 2013

Dreams of Grandmothers


Wild rice and chicken, 

She cooked wild rice and chicken to stick to our bones and soothe our souls. 

Her voice couldn’t speak beautiful words, but she could serve love on a decorative glass plate with a roll, green beans, and whipped potatoes. 

She couldn’t paint us elaborate scenes of her trips to Holland and Paris, but she could say “Hello” in such a singsong voice that you wanted the MP3. 

She kept her home shining. 

Her roses bright. 

Her grass trim and green. 

Her clothes neat. 

Her eyes on Him. 

Her pocketbook open for charity on the undeserving, myself included. 

She was a giant…on whose shoulders I stand.

My Testimony: Why Does God Allow Suffering?


The Word! It will make you cry.

The Bible says: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4).

What Elena Wrote

Trapped under water, suffocating… Dozens of people around me, but no one can help. They shout and scream: “Get out! Just pull yourself out! You’re not that deep!”, but I cannot. I am trapped. I am stuck. I can’t move. I feel all alone, but I am surrounded by people. They just don’t understand. How can they understand, when even I can’t explain what’s happening to me. The only way I can put it, is that my mind has been corrupted and my heart is in chains.  I can’t even breathe, let alone worship or pray. I get my journal, but all I can write is: ‘Why, God? Why?”. I just can’t understand why God would allow all this to happen to me. And everyday, I focus on the worst. I do not see what’s right, I only see what’s wrong. So, I sink even deeper consumed by the lies…

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NoW Reading: Succulent Wild Woman by SARK


 I made this meme because I love Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy aka SARK’s book Succulent Wild Woman: Dancing with your Wonder-Full Self! 

The book is something I found today in the North Georgia Goodwill (I think that’s what it’s called; my son ate the receipt). The colorful book is filled with doodles and positivity.

I’m only on page 15 and she has divulged her own experience as a victim of incest. Whoa! 

Yesterday was Resurrection Sunday, more commercially accepted as Easter, and ironically, Minister Heyward mentioned owing our testimonies. We know who we are when no one can sway us from our confidence in Him. What liberation in understanding God’s power is the answer to your problems then and your problems now. Hallelujah! 

This book is a good one. But, Check out the Bible anyday, anyplace, anytime! 


She smelled just just like peanut butter and jelly. 

Had a blonde Jheri curl and hosted the after school program from 3:00 to 6:00. Her skin was  colored and she let them watch the Lion King. On Friday, her surrogate children did the Electric Slide because she would bring her silver boom box.
Mrs. Aderly.

memory #326




Right Kind of Wrong

eiffel_tower_at_sunrise-t2“Every body here was someone else before”

A big part of growing up is about coming to terms with what you have grown up to be. The times when you remained uncannily silent, perhaps out of sheer fear, even though speaking up would help resolve the conflict much faster. A friend just called out to you, “I can’t trust you with anything anymore.” Now if this was in school, you could have probably rushed to a toilet cubicle and cried your eyes out.

But, what do you do when you are 22?

Wait for your eyes to turn red and the tears to trickle down your eyes. It’s production time at office. The loo can wait.  You have mastered the art to cry silently. To address grief objectively. To not question the who what whys in a desperate attempt to be mature.

You are often lackadaisical, selfish, wallowing in self-pity…

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Daughters of Curious George: The Lady in the Yellow Hat


They done called the First Lady a monkey,

Raven Symone sees no offense. 

I think she needs a prescription for contacts or bifocals,

To help her read between the lines.

But, enough of that, I am the Lady in the Yellow Hat.


Curiosity killed the cat and the catechism, so little George has got my guidance to navigate the Jungle.

I got rose-colored glasses. I get my vitamin D from the Sun. I read. Got coconut oil by the vat. Sugarcane juice in the fridge. 

Sticky situations, and he caught up like webs. Integrity, grace, and providence the only Cloaks of defense. My maiden name is Carmen San Diego. 

Today’s young lady is slightly crazy, I’m reminiscent of a older day.

Like lace gloves, tartlets, TLC before Left Eye died,  and play fighting.

Type that everybody know is gon breastfeed. 

And have a front porch for people watching. 

I kinda help George fight the mainstream. 


Daughters of Curious George

Meet the Talented Teen Building Creative Reputation Piece by Piece


Brilliant young man!


Animated versions of popular films and television programmes appear regularly on the internet. Among their vast number are the animated shorts by 15 year old Morgan Spence from Kilbarchan, Scotland, who uses stop-motion animation and Lego to bring his favourite features to life.

Spence has had an interest in collecting Lego figures from a young age. As the interest developed it led him to experiment with ideas which eventually culminated in creating animated videos for school projects as well as for his own website and YouTube channel. Spence initially decided to use stop-motion to perfect his Lego visions due to the forms, deceptive, simplicity.

“Stop-motion is a technique that does require time and patience, however it’s one that anyone can try. All that is needed is a camera and basic software.” said Morgan.

Stop-motion is a process by which a collage of photographs are played at fast speed to manipulate…

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A letter to my twenty-something self


Create your life

Since I am still in my twenties myself, this letter is not written BY me but rather FOR me, and for you.
It’s so profound and awakening, that I had to share it. I found it online and it is written by one of my favourite bloggers Christine Hassler. She wrote a letter to her twenty-something self, mirroring back from her thirty year old self.
There are statements I’ve never really consciously thought about, which blew my mind as I read them. I realized just how much I needed this to hear.
It made me think a lot, helped me to understand and accept myself better and expanded my mind. A very liberating feeling.
I hope you can take something away from it as well. It is definitely worth going through and giving it a thought. Enjoy!


Dear twenty-something self:

Please don’t be so hard on yourself. Be gentle.

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Hai World,

I absolutely adore blogging every day even if I’m a teeny bit stressed over meeting deadlines. However I’m still struggling to come up with ideas for certain letters but ‘c’ was quite an easy one for me. I always like to believe I was quite a confident young child even if I’ve had my moments where I have been reluctant to go interact with a stranger.

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