The Corners That We’ve Turned

We don’t often realize how sharp, nor round
were the corners that we’ve turned,
such feats, so unfound.

It’s only when we glance in the rearview mirror
that we see the long road behind us – then it becomes clearer.

The beaten pavement, faded, lined with trees
weave a long, winding set of all of our memories
that we forget to recall, like when friends became enemies
or that scene in Finding Nemo where he can’t say ‘anemone.’

We’re caught up in the present, racing against some kind of clock,
hugging that highway divider wall, but it’ll bring you to a stop
when you look back at the journey that brought you to this moment –
our lives have been our own path to create
as we find our true selves in each curve of the road, and
we don’t know much more about the way going forward,
but, slowing down, and looking back, provides a renewed focus.

You don’t often realize how sharp, nor round
were the corners that you’ve turned,
until you look back
at the map that you’ve crafted, so detailed, hand-drawn,
a trajectory travelled from our first few notes until the end of our very last song.

We’re so busy trying to hit the right notes that we forget to sing our own praises,
so smile back at the road behind you, no matter how beaten, no matter how faded. – RSM

Keyboard Rapper Vol. 7

I’m so complete, I flip things around and make the drums march to the sound of my own beat,

Never discreet, I bring heat to the mind, my thoughts are alive
as they flow out from my crown and vibrate toward the sky.
It’s science, guys! Like hot air, my rhymes rise – the literary paintings I craft
are the kinda masterpieces that canvas can’t grasp.
I’m a key-er, not a rapper, I just type in my writin’s
that take y’all’s minds on wild rides, like psilocybin – pardon me, I’m vibing.
Lyrical bread, thrown out to the masses,
like emboldened Romans from times, olden,

I’m the Emperor of this whole-thing, I roll in with the royal guard chanting my slogans
and rain these brain-baguettes on the people, just knowing
that they’ll be back next week for the word circus, and more bread,

“My coliseum bars will shine throughout time, long after I’m dead,” – The Emporer said. – RSM

Chicago Weather – Without Using the Word ‘Cold’

Coffee cools a little quicker in the Windy City –
petty arctic air for-ces people indoors, it’s,
my park-ing spot I-called-dibs-it’s-not-yours, since,
I-dug-the-whole-thing-out early this morn-ing,
I coulda sworn only the poles would have these snows,
Sub-zero ice collects on my windows
as double-digit temps in the negative show
on the local weather reports, I’m mad out-of-sorts,
I’m daydreaming of the times I hung out in sunny-weathered resorts
and when people ask me “How bad is the weather out there?”
I kinda wish I had a more-better retort.
Icicles on my eyelashes, double-sweatered, for sure,
but you’ll still see at least one white guy jogging around in little blue shorts.
But apart from that one, brave soul, defiant of the day’s low,
everyone’s glad to shelter in place, and just stay home. -RSM

The S On My Chest

Something so soldered, spraypainted so sharply,
Spiraling, snaking, set squarely, centered near my heartbeat,
It’s a hot brand, scarred so deep,
a neverending feeling that I’m somehow letting someone down, even in my sleep.
Be it me, or the world, or the people in between, that one unchecked box on my to-do list locks me in.
Perfection is a religion with no salvation, and an infinite way to feel guilt and commit sins.
It’s a lose-lose when the bar is so high
that I inexplicably expect to take off and fly
to reach goals so lofty, grandiosely ambitious,
and when I fall short I blame my lack of wings
instead of realizing I may be taking on too many things.
We praise hard work and precision
to a point where a day without ‘being productive’ is regarded as a bad decision,
A lazy waste of time that lacks drive and vision.
So on my chest shines the red ‘S’ that the ubermensch-turned-comic book hero has long worn,
adorned, on my skin,
indoctrinated since childhood
to overachieve or die trying, either master the universe or regret being born.
The only kryptonite I have is my own scorn. -RSM

Through the Abnormal

As I wake up to grey skies shrouding the muted, orange sun,
I react with a subtle shrug; things have changed.

“What’s normal anymore, anyway?” Something I think to myself – an open-ended question with no answer coming soon.
We only have left a handful of hope, hanging onto ‘the usual,’ the baseline we all knew.

This year has been ripe with things that make me cringe,
On the fringe of science fiction, dystopia, and humanity paying for it’s environmental sins.

Common sense has followers, but nonsense has #believers;
disciples of convenience – masks, they can’t wear it, swearing they don’t need it.

The virus spreads on, even though we all know what’s best,
And fires rage out west – a bad combo for your chest –

2020’s been a bad year for the lungs, the eyes, the heart, the mind; life has shifted.
We carry on with heavy burdens, hoping the weight will be lifted,

we’re all tired souls, but love has persisted.

We fight for the ones we love through it all, we claw forward if we have to, so our little ones can crawl.
We still find ways to laugh, to make light of our collective plight,

we hold our friends and family tight, we mourn deaths and celebrate life.

Whatever ‘normal’ might mean next year, we’ll see,
But in 2020 – ‘normal’ is vulnerability.
Confusion is normal, fatigue, sadness,
numbness, exhaustion, hysteria, anguish,

new hobbies, revisited talents,
Zoom calls with your technology-inept parents,
Career changes, new dangers, politics vs. science –
And love is present in all of the above, and through the abnormal, love will guide us.– RSM

It’s a Catch 1920×1080

Right now, as I write this, my

Eyes get narrow, and focus in – with a

Tightness. A fight-or-flight response, my

Irises and pupils embattlled in a day-til-

Night war, they spar with bluelights

And UV and bright screens, galore..

Deadass, I’m stuck between

A nine-to-five and a lifestyle that

Makes it hard to look away from

A series of bright rectangles each day.My

Glasses are shielded, but my

Eyes still feel it …just another long-term health thing to deal with.-RSM

Fresh Air.

I’ve been trying to follow the rules, cuz at the day’s end

I’d rather end each day in good health, not laid in

at an ICU, or self-quarantining at the Day’s Inn.

I’ve been going on long walks

and having long talks with my most

loved souls as I stretch out my soles.

My glasses get frothy, my vision has
me fogged up,

trying to breathe fully with a mask on makes me feel all clogged up,

But on a walk last evening, I had a several block-long window of space

where no one was around, only my mask and fogged glasses were strapped to my face,

So I pulled down my mask and fully inhaled –

It felt like diving headfirst into an ocean’s wave,

Like the crusted cage encasing me was unlocked,

my lungs were unshackled, all chakras unblocked-

I felt free.

I grabbed a hold of mother nature’s hand as it reached me,

and exhaled, audibly as the sidewalk scrolled beneath me.

It made me so happy, with a smile so candid

to breathe a full breath of fresh air,

something we’ve all taken for granted.
– RSM

sdrowkcab

nehW I saw gnuoy, ebyam ekil thgie ro enin sraey dlo,


I detrats gnikool ta sdrow, dna dluow rednow


tahw ti dluow eb ekil fi hcae drow ew daer saw delleps morf thgir ot tfel.


I thguoht fo yreve drow I daer ni esrever,


ti emaceb os citamotua-


ti saw ym og ot gniht ot od elihw gnidaer gnihtyna, emityna, tsuj a modnar tibah;


gnikooL kcab, ti saw a citsiugnil tfig fo ym nwo doohdlihc noitanigami.


oS, s’ereh a peed kcabworht,
ot nehw I tup nwod, deppilf, dna esrevered sdrow ni ym elttil daeh os tsaf,


dna t’ndid ezilaer ti saw ytterp ssadab. -RSM

Along The Crescent Moon

As my physical body rests I find a dope lunar crater, as my astral self walks along the sun drenched moon.

I manifest my favorite skateboard, and do a nose grind in a goofy stance along the outer rim.

I feel a sense of clarity as the sun’s rays bounce off and shine through me, a warmth so rich;

The moon looks like a crescent shape from Earth tonight, so it makes sense,

that i look back at a certain spot on Earth, reflect on the very recent past and begin to reminisce…

I’ll remember gazing along the gold crescent moon and finding the hanging star.

I’ll remember the nerves that possessed me, until I realized I wasn’t the only one with butterflies, not by a long shot.

I’ll remember the way I felt when I saw them all, family, old and new, emerging in their Sunday best.

I’ll remember how love lit up the room, a warmth like the sun-a chamber of collective radiance across the river from my mother-metropolis.

I’ll remember having the best view in the room, as the master of ceremonies often does, and before I knew it, my job was done.

I enjoyed it so much, the one thing I forgot was where I put my nerves-they seemed to get lost in the rain and clouds as the bridal party, groom, and the bride walked out.

I’ll remember when the dance floor swelled, and food and wine surfed along as every tune on the soundtrack was somebody’s favorite song,

A certain kind of magic was created as we celebrated, the kind that compels the crowd to just know that this night would be truly special.

Only magical nights like these stay true, as we look back in the years to come.

I won’t remember this dream I describe, nor most others when I arise,

But as I slip further into a deep sleep state, kickflipping on the moon, doing a lil’ sleep-skate,

I look back at that spot on Earth and rewind, to the 1st of December, 2019, to one of my most loved memories; one of my life’s best keepsakes.- RSM

Seven Haikus About Life, And Stuff.

‘Beauty’ is the air

between your eyes and the things

and people you love.

Important moments

pass by so quickly, that we

replay them ’til death.

Intimate moments

with oneself are works of art:

Powerful. Priceless.

Life is a dancefloor,

ballroom dance moves are the norm.

I like pop-and-lock.

Staggering to think

how many realities

we’ve made, and destroyed.

It’s hard to maintain

a peaceful flow, like water,

but fires are no match.

Understanding you

is your most important skill.

You are worth your time. – RSM