Of Men and Mice: 50 Poems

By Monet Thompson

Of Men and Mice is a collection of 50 poems. Each one is preceded by a brief explanation of what inspired that poem. Like many, Monet Thompson has been through a lot. She shares her memories and what she's learned from these experiences. If interested in its author, Of Men and Mice will both answer questions and create them. It's a conversation piece for sure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669809784

Monet Thompson

Monet Thompson goes by the stage name "The M.O." She began writing poetry at eleven. Listening to and being influenced by the rap music of the eighties and nineties in northeast Baltimore, Maryland, she obtained her first job at fourteen and has been independent ever since. Irma’s Gun is loosely based on true events and her life story.

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Copyright © 2022 by Monet Thompson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/03/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

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Contents

Dedication

Epigraph

Baseball

Log Cabin In The Country

Wait For What?

I Need Assistance, Please

Broken

Man

No Teeth

You Taught Me Well

I’m An Animal

Buy In

Last Time

Beautiful Ones

Oui

Different

What’s Next On The Menu?

You Will Never Find Yourself

Bullshit

Start Slow

Mr. Bleich

Eleven

Of Men And Mice

Round 2

Mr. Steve Thommen

Dumb Cracker Trap

Better Dayz

Small

New Day

My Seed

Another Way To Be

That’s How It Work

What’s In A Name?

Mr. Drain

Burnt Toast And Coffee Time

Under New Management

Childhood Sex

Moon

Turned Off

Cousin Son

On My Terms

Mr. Jimmy Love

Go Against The Grain

Feel And Do

Halftime

Mr. Zolin

And The Game Goes On...

Ms. Martha

Hue-Miliation

Cool Breeze

Dumb Nigga Trap

Proceed To Death

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated

to my elementary school basketball head coaches

Mr. Jimmy Love and Mr. Steve Thommen.

In the first grade

Mr. Jimmy Love convinced my mother to let me play.

Along with introducing me to the game’s fundamentals

he started me at center.

Were it not for him

I would have never experienced

all the benefits from organized sports.

When I transferred to another elementary school

Mr. Steve Thommen

taught me even more about the game

and continued to start me at forward.

Aside from never knowing

they were like surrogate fathers,

they provided a strong foundation

for the confidence I have in all areas of my life.

Later I’d learn that since the time of my birth

there were forces swirling

determined to undergo a slow process of

humiliation and belittlement

that was to eventually lead to my death.

Had these two men not given me these tools

I’m not sure I would have survived.

Thank you.

EPIGRAPH

Writing is fighting.

-Ishmael Reed

While I was a patient at

Clifton T. Perkins Hospital Center

I attended my first baseball game.

From a distance,

I always imagined going to be a boring thing.

I was so wrong.

Surrounded by my peers yet feeling so alone

it was easy to get lost in the din

of the action on the field

and the subtle actions of the other spectators.

As soon as I would sink into my seat

I’d be interrupted by the voice of a vendor

with peanuts, beer, lemonade or hot dogs.

The jumbo tron and music

would also break the monotony.

I live for new experiences

and can’t wait to go again.

BASEBALL

America’s Past Time

only your seat has you fettered

you can spectate, commentate or play if you choose

just know

that we never come to lose

it’s so thrilling

to see participants fully clothed

scramble back and forth

donning white powder and spitting stuff

I see

grandma used to dip snuff

infield against outfield

under high noon sun

even in the rain

we squat on newspapers with plastic over our heads

this is our team

we sit patient

through seasons beginning to end

when we achieve the pennant

it was all worth it

crying tears of joy

they feel the victory as if

they trained right in the faces of super heroes

these guys with massive arms

flat tummys and thighs of steel

have a world wide type of appeal

our season was undefeated

so now the world watches

folk from distant lands

have wide eyes and fully understand

they may not speak the same language

or even have the same culture

but the struggle is real all over

Could they really do it?

Tonight there’s butterflies in my gut

ssshhhh... look straight ahead

we’re up

see the guy on the mound

wigglin’ his hips looking around

grandma used to do the very same thing

she would stand at the table

slicing kernels off cobs

while gospel music played in the back round

Hear that sound?

Not baseline or punt on the ground

no question mark or even a maybe

that’s a home run

a score right into the stratosphere

watch it go

they told us NO

now we outta here, baby

innings over

switch positions

look, somebody got hurt

just going through the motions

of kicking up dirt

that’s how it happens

it’s never the injury you’d expect

have to sit out...

doing some dumb shit

check the coach

from under the shelter

out on the field helter skelter

gotta argue

if you don’t they’ll slide you a fast one

I see

used to watch grandma rear a rack of sons

teach, scold and love them

it’s amazing

how over time

the stars got aligned

and we now have a team star studded

must have been the forces

that signed, hand picked and designed

all the talent you see before you

while our opponents stand stone faced

with arms folded

know it

it was a good run

but now it’s all over

baseball

My earliest memories were

of being around my seven uncles, my

step-grandfather, my grandmother

and my older cousins Greg and Lisa

in Tallahassee, Florida.

Like many others these first experiences

completely shaped who I am

and prepared me for who I was to be.

Being constantly surrounded by my uncles

provided a comfort zone for me to become

an emcee surrounded by men.

My cousins were the siblings I never had.

I would watch and assist my grandmother

in her duties as both mother