Poem: Cusswords


Fluff!

You fluffing piece of silk!
I’m so sick and tired of all your clouds – you sorry Bliss
Pack your bags and get the heart out of my dream house now
Right this fluffing minute!

You two-bit, jacked-up Pretty
You sorry little Bubble
You horrible self-centered Bliss
Dream you! Dream you! Dream you to heart!

I gave you all I fluffing had
And being the pathetic piece of silk that you are –
You ripped it all up with those big air hands of yours
Tore it all to shreds.
Stomped it out with those big air feet

So what was the point, you sorry Bliss-
You filthy two-faced Bubble?
What was the fluffing point?
When it all just ended up a silky heap of rubble on the dream floor?

So just sing my drink one last time
Then get the fluff out of my dream world for good.
You cowardly Bubble
Get the fluff out!

Poem: Holy Days Reborn


Image

Once upon a time
There was this virgin
Who gave birth to
The son of God.

So go to sleep now
And some fat guy’s
Gonna break in and bring you tons
Of plastic crap
You don’t need
Wrapped in shiny paper.

Then, a few years later,
Jesus popped up
From the dead
and said,“I’m alive!
Go find some eggs?”

And they all
[for the most part]
Lived
For-happily ever after.

Poem: Bumblebee Pee


See it must be a bee who leaked a pee on me
I surmised it kinda funny when the urine wasn’t runny
When I buttered up my tummy lapping up the bladder honey

It wuz becuz of the guzzle of the fuzz that made me buzz
Getting kinda tricky to lick up the icky sticky
The muck struck & stuck when my suck ran out of luck
Like bumblebee pee from a honeycomb

Then there was the sting of the black & yellow thing
With the swiftly shifting wings & the zing the stinger brings

Sick of the tickle of the fickle venom trickle
I slapped the massive gnat with a whack
With a flash-smack-attack
And smashed the sucker flat

Now I know not to go where the bumblebees blow
Thumping up & down & under like some otherworldly thunder
Hovering over one another
Unplugging honey udders
Full of bumblebee pee

I do open mics. Don’t tell anyone, but I actually created a loop of a Milla Jovovich [love her!] song from the Peopletree Sessions to run behind my reading for this. I never had the balls to perform this piece [with the music] in public. I shared it sans sample. But not with it. Not sure why I chickened out on it…

Poem: The Anti-Nothing


What lingers on the other side of nothing?
What squirms in the pit
Where blackholes dump their trash?
Spew their collections?
Bury their loot?

Slippery lip
Where the universe spills over its edge
Into somethingness
Anti-nothingness
Perfect newness

Colors hum there
Matter, mass
Fresh amoebas
Foreign, congealing
Into new music, novel mist

That random place where anti-dust & anti-heat
Implode & churn out anti-light
Anti-matter springs, unfolds
Anti-worlds & anti-words
Anti-poems, anti-songs

Anti-planets, anti-suns
Ante up in the anti-space
Where Auntie Em looks down in black & white
Swabbing the head with an anti-rag
Dipped in antique water

Anti-thoughts in the anti-mind
Swim around in the anti-time
Where far & near are upside down
Anti-pulsars spin around
In retrograde

The anti-wormholes are antebellum
Post-apocalyptic felons
Anti-war & anti-peace
Anti-teeth in anti-jaws
Speak anti-rules & anti-laws
While living anti-true & false

Pooling up & cooling down
In the land where life creates itself
To shake the known with quasar-quakes

Giving birth
On the inside of everything
Nothing included
Nothing reborn
As something

Poem: e. coli


Yield!

There was dis-ease throughout the barnyard
Everyone wanted more spinach & meat
“Yield! Yield!” cried the townsfolk.
“When pigs fly!” the farmer replied.

But he gave in anyway

So the swine flu overhead
and flooded the engine ears of corn
Which made a mad cow stomp & foam
from its hooves & mouth

Then a bird flu over the coop
and flocks of chicken pox
broke out of the henhouse
Their eggs all stolen
by an Asian weasel
with the German measles

Who ran down to the river
full of salmonella
Swimming & splashing
onto the roots of the beans

Which were closest to the patch
of potato tuberculosis
Growing in the freshly-sprayed soil
enriched with beta-quarantine

But none of this plagued
the people’s dreams
As they brandished pitchforks & spoons
demanding from their growling guts
“Yield! Yield!”
“Yield!”

Boss Me Around


::: Scowl :::

In honor of National Poetry Month, I organized years and years worth of my poetry into categories.

Now, I’m taking orders on what poems to reveal to the world during April.
The category with the most votes will determine what I post.

Don’t be scared. Go ahead and vote.

It’s like having your own Yes-Man to smack around.