metaphorcast 31 luke warm

Better than Vader
I’ve never seen a dark side.
Jedi of the tiger
to my lion’s pride,
in lieu of ever yelling
I’ve more often seen him cry.

So soft spoken now,
we Scrabble in silence
and talk sports over chicken.
I hold doors, take out his trash
and lift heavy things; pay for lunch,
plan trips
and some of the fun.
A son yet to become father
as father becomes son.

Back in NY I spot a dad
leading his young daughter
down a train platform
but I’m the one
a little lost
needing to tie my shoe.

Why do I do what I do?
If I forget who I am
who could I be?

A child bouncing on his knee
would give my dad
a renewed sense of purpose,
but what would it do to me?

Why’m I sadder today
than on Mother’s Day,
when I’ve already lost a mother
and a fiance?

I guess even with a dad in Florida and a mom no longer here to see
I still have part of the power
for a dad to appear in me.

But it hasn’t happened yet.
The giddy ups and down of upset.
In 2, 3, 5…why bet?
This is Scotty T Storm
trying to metaphorcast
a wide net.

metaphorcast 10 lady libertrees

What can I say-
even the bald eagles
starting to sport a toupee….
And I’m starting
to tear my hair out;
its a bad doo like Erica
so I pledge allegiance to the world and God Bless America.

What can we expect to see next
more pickets and protests
then outfitting our statue
with a kleenex
better yet,
let’s wrap her robes like a hijab,
torch the see crabs
then turn her shoes into free cabs
(maybe not Ubers)

Here’s the plan:
She’ll go to and from
each of the seven countries banned
Syria Iraq Yemen Iran
Libya Somalia Sudan.
Reposition Lady Liberty
in the Middle East
than move north
we put France in her pants
and send her crown glowing forth then use her as a refugee
Trojan horse,

but instead of destroying everything in her path
and burning the cities she sees
brings back the tired poor
huddled masses
yearning to breathe free.

metaphorcast 30 for keeps before sleeps

Blackjack with Jack Black
and Poker with Lady Gaga.
Roulette with Pat Sajack
and sober chats
with a shady llama.

A forced drama, a boxer’s boxers(,) and Oxford Commas.
Buffet or a la carte,
here’s why we start to obscure.
All you can eat, all you can open, all you can endure.

Stop, name drop and roll with
Two-Tupac Shakurs.
Channel Notorious Mediums.
Busta off rhyme
with funky homosapiens
and Aesop’s paper scissors.

He unzipped Bill Nye’s flies
and tripped up
Mr. Wizard’s lizards
to save the earth, save the stars,
savor the Bowies.
Snapped into a slim jim
and it was doughy,
keeping up with the
keeping out the Kims and Chloes.

Keeping up appearances
of our real selves showing up.
Keeping up with the crash.
Keeping up with the race
and the pace car dash.
Keeping up with the closest childhood friends I ever had
and could’ve asked,
their beautiful
and growing family units,
and their suburban masks.
Keeping up with keeping up.
Keeping up with slowing down
when going too fast.
Keeping away from freaking out
and keeping it together
when others are around.
And least but not last
keeping up with the present date and recent past.

This is Scotty T storm with this weeks metaphorcast.

metaphorcast 29 memorials

Lincoln sits in his chair,
NAM names and we stare.
Who’s fault our team didn’t score,
It’s an Oriole memorial
and we still want Balti-more?
This Raven ain’t misbehaving
just saving the best for laughs,
but flags are flying half mast.
London Bridges must go up
for giraffe rafts,
they’ll go down for ostrich hostages
and across for sea bass baths.
Manchester cheetahs were cheated,
disConcerted defeated.
A Grande burrito is needed.

Suspects of dust vaccumed up
Case closed caseless.
Gumshoe laceless.
Come through to stasis.
The most memorable memorials are ostentatiousless.
Have you seen the view
from the moon?
Simply stated
all of these were taken
too soon.

my fraternity brother and friend, Grandma Rosalie, Grandpa Lewis
and Bonnie my mommy
reaching her end.
Nick C, AZ, US, Erica and Tommy
who owned the comic book shop.
Each deserving of their own poem
and poems that never stop.
New tooth unflossed.
A ball never tossed.
Candles lit
with an eternal will to shine.

This is Scotty T Storm reflecting on nine lives lost
but still present in my mind.

metaphorcast 28 outback to the future

Australian Ken
puts another
shrimp on the Barbie barbie.
Eucalips sealed
this party’s too arty.
A dingo ate my baby back ribs,
they were hardly hearty.
Don’t rest on your floral Laurels.
Stan up and get smarty smarty.
I wear a lion’s pride
whether I’m ready
or totally unkoalafied.

here. now. 4 of 40,
there are three paths before me.
The old, the new
and the now for something completely different.
The Full Monty 3.14thon repeats,
outlining the rest of this piece:

To resign a lease, stay the course to fix the mind and build a home, or leave the country
skipping this town,
freeing quill from stone.

Pivotal point of pivot.
Grass is greener despite a divot.
Before heart hardens.
The next round’s starting,
If a tree falls in the forest
does it make a Soundgarden?

Ding. Ding. Ding.
To each his own
but what’s it mean
to no longer own
what was once within reach?
Will the orange become an impeach?
With the citrus squeezed out
the party
ensure a fuzzy fence
as another mistake maker

Not non-alcoholic daiquiris
I’m just flirting
with different versions
and various love factories
ungloved flatteries.
Is this energizer outta batteries,
or a whirling dervish
of emerging perversions?

Either way,
this is Scotty T storm…
metaphorcasting aspersions.

metaphorcast 27 kittens and collies

Am I smitten with you
or with folly?
Golly! It IS you
as I olly olly play the fool,
you’re a polly volley
buffet of cool.
Dali’s dollies carry cameras
that stream my dreams
to pave the pool.
Freestylists mess the hair,
but save the school
one punchline at a time.
Unless they’re
here who find the rhyme
will blind the mind.
Third eye for an eye.
For instance. Four instants.
Breakfasts, replays and connections gratify.
Freshen breath, amend mints, ratify.

Wilson and Pryored all weekend,
That is to say it Rained –
not paid Bills and got Richar(d).
Didn’t spend a cent
but ascended senses
with someone special.
Ate and watched the Leftovers
with Miss October.
Jeter honored
but who cares when she’s over.

Past prominent
but fading.
The itsy bitsy’s
up the spout
and we happily stayed in.
Sun on its way no doubt today.
I hadn’t yet met this week’s metaphorcast
so didn’t know
what I was about to say,
but sure glad I did.
Carrey or Barker,
if you had to bid.
I kid. I kid.
Metaphorcasters been kissed
as priceless is right
despite the slightest in quid.

Id instinct is porn
but instead id winks and
enchants round the horn.
Id makes it rain
then begins ego go dancing
up a storm.
But do not pass ego
without advancing the norm.
Organize the swarm.
Bee yourself and take credit,
Let super ego take cash and
make edits.

This metaphorcasts a beast
and I fed it.
Serves up. Punch spiked.
She set it
then Scotty T Storm said it.

metaphorcast 26 sheet secrets (adult content)

(an earlier version of this persona poem was written for S.W.A.P. 2012 following the sex scandal involving 13 agents in Cartagena, Columbia)

I’ve seen three wars
and been on the force for four.
I’ve been inside stores
on boardroom floors
and guarded scores of A-list celebs,
top-models and business

I’ve also held court
with key members
of the CIA and FEDS.
I’ve seen thousands die
from where I’ve been stationed
all from inside the cabinet
during both the Clinton and Bush Administrations.

Somehow I made it out alive
where I’ve been appointed
to a prominent position
within homeland security’s
Latex Division.
After all these years
I can’t help but believe
that I’ve somehow earned this –
to become part of the
Victoria’s Secret Service.

I’ve taken a special oath
to serve and protect
the erect.

Sure it’s a…hard job,
and you can get lots of heat
But I’m good at what I do,
when balls are to the wall,
even though on most assignments,
I don’t get used at all.
Still, there can be
a great deal of pressure,
affairs happen,
husbands and wives get hurt,
they shout and swear,
most people tell me
they feel better
without me even there.

We’re often ridiculed
for taking the lives
of so many innocents
which I think depends on
when you consider life begins
cuz it’s really up to me
who sinks or swims.

When all’s said and done
I’ve seen far too many
dead presidents
and could certainly do
without another one.

When I’m on the job
you can take a load off.
Come inside. You’ll be safe…
with me.
Well 98.9% safe,
but that’s still pretty good, right?

I mean there’s always a chance
that some crazy
has poked a hole
in the very fabric of our security
leaving a potential target
exposed and vulnerable
to only god knows what
without thinking
one of us slips off
after a night of hard partying
and heavy drinking.

But I don’t do that sort of thing.
I take my job very seriously.
All jobs. Except maybe hand jobs.
Yeah, on hand jobs I’m pretty lax.
Blow jobs too. No. No, y’know
it depends.
But in the end
(especially in the end)
I’m top shelf—
I work hard
and then slightly less hard
and try to keep to myself.

I see and hear it all—
the unzipped fly on the wall,
the birthday swim-suit,
the STD-DDT in full supply.

Actually, many of my closest friends have lived pretty high-class lives,
up to this point
far more exciting than mine.
I mean these guys have seen
Tiger Woods stroke his clubs
from the back nine
in more than one hole at once…
on more than one hole in one…
on more than one occasion.
And they’ve seen guys like
Eliot Spitzer, Marv Albert,
Anthony Weiner
and Charlie Sheen
do some pretty freaky shit.

we’re just used and discarded,
but last night I caught wind of something big. Real big.

I mean
I got North Korean launch codes, vital location information
for Trump visits into Russia,
and covfefe strategies
for the next two elections.

In addition to a few goos,
gahs and giggity giggity giggities,
I was privy to
who’s next on the dictator hit list,
where we’re hiding UFOS,

Hell, I even witnessed
a 30 dollar transaction
for services worth close to 875.

And after tonight
I know what it means
to be undercover under covers,
how size doesn’t really matter,
and not who shot JFK, but rather
who JFK shot…his final load on.

Anyway, too bad I’m lying here
in this hotel trash can
next to some cashew shells
and a half-eaten bag of cheetos.

Because only now do I realize
on the heels of this here
new health bill
how important it will be
coming forward
to use me
and or some helpful pill or IUD.
Or one of my closest associates
from here on in,
whenever moving fluids
and sharing skin.

the last thing I witnessed
was an orgasm. So I’m good –
with nothing more to lose.
But this ADmin’s
Robbin’ Planned ParentHood
giving to the rich
and taking away rights to choose.

To die, to sleep.
To sleep — perchance to dream:
there’s the rub
and the rubber is I,
for in this sheath of death
what dreams of cum
When we have shaken off
this mortal raincoat,
I am flung.

And there’s the last erection
that makes calamity
of so short a life;
For who would bear
the whips and scorns
of some sadomasochist’s safety pin,
The professor’s thong, the uncircumcised man’s foreskin,
The pangs of unloved glove,
the law’s last d-lay,
The insolence of not offering and the burning sensation to follow,
that impatience of packaging
before entering this churning,
salacious hollow.

When he himself might make love
without lambskin
who’s raw package could bear,
to grunt and sweat
risking yet another unwanted life
to spare.
But that the dread of worms in file breaking through the eggy glint
is halted by my spermicidal lubricant.

metaphorcast 25 prometheus

My impending summer vacation
may be closed for Ren
(and Stimpy)
The proms over
but the promenade
leads to Bar Jason.
Unwedded I argue knots
until my stars in place,
but for now
Das boutonnière’s far facing,
as this hard corsage
won’t stop chaffing.
today’s metaphorcast’s
a whine tasting.

The thinking man’s fucked.
Your animal instinct is stuck,
and the zoos muted.
You’re already too diluted,
and the champagne’s bubbling up.

Complain and able.
Bitch and moan.
A stained table
of sword swallowers
is switched for stone.

Patience is a curfew.
No subscribers.
Change your purview.
You only Liev once,
my fellow Schriebers.

Hell to pay,
hello to survivors.

Do you realize
what you cement to me?
VP and POTUS won’t RSVP
to the party of the century.
DT doesn’t show up for dinner;
But who’s the one getting thinner?

I went to bed last night
without eating.
Too much touring
my circadians
are taking a beating.
But I still feel alive
Mr. Keating.

Or Dr. Frankenstein?
A thankless line…
yet to be drawn.
You’re just a pawn
in a game of checkers.
A red speck in chess.
A reversible sweatshirt with a missing fifty in (the) vest.
Without asking
take a guess.
Earn an answer.
I’m still hungry,
but won’t ignore the fast.

This is Scotty T Storm
with this week’s metaphorcast.

metaphorcast 24 sutherlanding strip

Jack Bauer bowser browser.
I try to be open
24 hrs a season,
7 dazed years,
minus an adequate reason.
Take me to your Kiefer-
stop teasing!

Thank you,
but why are you not pleasing
the person who was first
to see you breathing
after putting your keys in?

A likeless ode.
I recently moved back
to the same street I left behind and yes,
I like this humble abode –
but something major is missing.
Sure it’s a fine place to unwind
but there’s been an unstitching.
Scars have healed,
but there’s minimal kissing and little to no dancing
in the subliminal kitchen.
calling the third t kettle back.

Must act fast before panic mode,
as this Metaphorcast
has been renewed
for one more manic episode.

metaphorcast 23 vast heirs

(Originally written for New Street Poets, a spoken word play centered around 6 poets, whose venue known as Cafe Home was being targeted by developers for a series of new luxury condominiums. The poem references the Atlantic Yards Project in Brooklyn, NY and was first performed a few years before the Barclay Center opened. As a touring artist who travels outside the city often, loves poetry AND basketball I, like many of the people far more closely involved struggled with where I stood on all this)

So without further adieu a ditty 

ditty dum ditty whooo!!!

Let’s get the show on the road people – 

or maybe we should all stay here?
Wat up folks? When I say welcome…

I need y’all to say HOME. 

Welcome Home. Welcome Home.

Welcome to the Safe Our Café Open Mic. 

My name is Spot.

Not like the dog, but like the little red dot.

Whaddya want from me, my dad drove a 7-up truck and me being a performer and all

I guess the name just stuck?

Anyway, our usual host 

couldn’t be here this morning,

so they asked me to be today’s AIR Jordan.

You know, like Mike. If I could be like Mike.

Like Mike if I could be like Mike

Tyson, I’d punch the clock out 

not Robbin Givens,
giving us a little more time 

to settle this banana split decision.
Gnawing the ears off of all those in power 

who refuse to listen.
I’d box bulldozers 

and not heavy weight to take action.

You know like Mike. 

If I could be like Mike

Maybe I’d stop monkeying around,

try to heal the world 

starting with this town

make it a better place, 

for you and for me

and the man behind the man 

in the mirror’s face,

tracing it’s slow development 

into A doctor of evil
who everyday, like Mike, 

chases out the black

white or brown people.

Like Mike. If I could be like Mike 

I’d hire a team of sharks 

with friggin’ laser beams 

to stop this involuntary land-slaughter.
What’s next? To seize the seven seas 

and start building above the water?

Not even Bugs Bunny needs 

24 Karat diamond studded rugs.

It ain’t gonna work 

kicking cats out their flats 

onto sailboats and subs.

We need more affordable housing

in the places we still love!!!

Now, I may be always on the road, 

but this walking contradiction 

has slowed to a stop.

No more twos and threes and fours, 

by day’s end 

I ain’t moving from this one SPOT.

Vying to hold on to the scene, 

remember everyone’s trying to grab a piece of the py


except nobody fool’s 

The man demands

to let’s keep Nets 

to just fishing boats and tennis stands
and not cart the Carters and Kidds 

away from the Meadowlands.
You do realize the rat gets all the cheese

in this warped business plan?
They wanna sky high-rise 

like Mike and outer-Space Jam.
Move shooting-Starbucks from Mars 

to park our cars on Pluto
where the eminent domain event 

is kicking out the poor with sumo judo,
pissing me and everyone else off 

like NUMERO UNO!!!

So from now on, let’s party on dudes, 

like Mike.

Stick our tongues out, 

like Mike.

So when they crack the bat, 

we can beat it bad, 

like Mike like Mike like Mike

like a microphone.

I treble up, hold my ground and amplify 

to everyone,

Stay at home and home stays!”

Buyouts are bullshit!

true community’s what really pays.

Here’s the situation. Like Mike.
Don’t wait for further destructions

open the minds and flip the light.

Start switching and don’t sell yourself short
The wrecking ball is in your court.