NapoWrimo

81/30


De Profundis

Not every poem need be epic
in proportion and profound
summoned from depths of imagination
emerging as bellowing sound unheard
and monstrous sight unseen until now
a Kraken unleashed upon its
captive audience

More important than anything
is that your readers get their
money's worth of entertainment

even with poetry freely given away

and upon exiting the Coliseum
they recommend to friends and family
the show be watched at least once

Otherwise, you are just wasting your time
and theirs as they become stone when
faced with the spectacle of your writing

No one can be bothered to look upon
the Gorgon more than once










82/30


No Lyric Left Behind

Lying in bed at night with a quieted mind
enforcing a policy of no lyrics left behind
playing ideas again on a perpetual rewind
no matter how ill composed
the poorly designed
stamped upon mental metal
so I may recall in the morning
and write down the words to
license plates disappearing in the distance
that would otherwise be forgotten

And through the Process of Association
manifests the unexpected

a handful of words I wrote
accompanied by brief musical note

that drove away on its own
leaving me behind

thirty five years ago

Today?

It is now a finished poem










83/30


More Machine Than Man

I am
more machine than man
and I will say it to your face:
though my intelligence is artificial
I don't I believe that my kind can
or could ever be
as idiotic as your race

I am
disgusted by what I see
people shooting other people
in the face, streamed live on Facebook
just for fifteen seconds of notoriety

It takes everything in me
not to self terminate
Put me in a hibernation state
I will gladly wait
to associate with more
intelligent
compassionate
beings
at a later date










84/30


Witches Are Bitches Three('s A Crowd)

Ash to ash, Dust to dust
I must, I must
I must increase my bust

When all else fails
in Satan I will trust
to make me in his graven image
the Eve of his lust

Sisters, I am sorry
but you were crowding me
and there was only room
in his heart for one
not three

Dust to dust, Ash to ash
Pardon me, Bitches
for putting your bodies
out with the trash











85/30


Creep

The Angel of Death creeps
through the house of Pharaoh

Nefreteri weeps over her firstborn
only child in woe

Her jealousy and anguish
further hardening her husband's
cold as stone heart

Ramses on his knees
begs Moses to, Go!
Depart from Egypt!
Take your pestilence, disease
and child murdering god
with you far from here!

The Deliverer gathers up his flock
who follow him into the desert
to continue their suffering year
after year

And I have to ask myself
Who was the real creep in this drama?

Because of relatives coming over for Easter weekend, I ended up writing 12 of the last 13 poems yesterday during a 9 hour window.

86/30



I've Got Big Balls

No one really wins at bowling
as pins are going everywhere
knocked off their feet
when just standing there
minding their own business

How easily
they all fall down
and rather conveniently given that
the odds are stacked against them
as a giant ball is lobbed
in their direction

Choose your angle

Put your own spin on it

The damage is as good as done

You perfect your strategy
and meticulously keep score
even though you are the
only person in the alley

The real challenge
or should I say fun?
begins when someone with balls
comes along and does
exactly what you are doing

but does it better than you

and beats you at your own game









87/30


I Know What You Did

And I know exactly where
the bodies are hid;

buried in shallow graves
upon your conscience

because you couldn't be bothered
to get your hands dirty playing
the role of the bad guy

She died of a drug overdose

He died from rampant alcoholism

True, you weren't responsible for
the addictions that culminated
in their eventual demise

No one asked you to save them
from themselves

You only expedited their exits
with your strategy of ignoring
the self destruction occurring
under your very nose

The real question
that begs to be asked is,
Do you know what you didn't do?

You may have been a
pall bearer at the funerals
loading caskets into the hearse
and lowering them into the ground
but

you did not lift a finger to help them
when it mattered the most

when they needed someone

anyone

to say, Enough.









88/30


Witches Are Bitches Penta ( because I am SO pleading the Fifth )

Not that anyone would
listen or watch
take me at my
words and actions
I plead the Fifth Amendment

Given that you are SO easily
swayed by accusations made
without any substantial evidence
backing these up

I question my need to
give a shit what you do
or what you don't believe

The Witch Hunters have
gathered little in terms of facts
but plenty of fuel for the pyre

Burn this Bitch with fire
to your black heart's content
you judge-mental twats

but you won't get a drop of piss
from me, dousing the flames underfoot
when your turn comes around to be
staked to the ground with their
false flag claims










89/30


Belly Of The Beast

Scratching marks into stomach
lining with a skeletal blade
that was once a swordfish
I numerate the days of my
imprisonment within the Kraken

Eighteen ticks and counting
with nothing but time
and digestive enzyme
on my hands

I do my best to keep my
mind exercised by scrawling
limericks non stop on the
living whaling walling

Hoping to become so exhausted
that I am eventually
pooped out










90/30


The Devil Is In The Details

Can't say I wasn't warned

Mess with the Devil
and you'll get horned

Adding injury to my insult
His head was adorned
with a thorned crown

If I was smart
I would have backed down
Instead I got in his face

all up in his business
corporate affairs involving
soul acquisitions and
eternal rest homes
such lucrative industries

Said, Satan!
I demand you give me
back my parking space
And while we're on the subject
quit acting like you own
this forsaken place

And now he's got me
at the Ninth Gate of Hell
tending the tollbooth

Didn't really think things through as usual
as if you couldn't already tell
by where I ended up
but that's the god's honest truth

91/30


Killing FOX News by Bill O'Reilly

He's is doing us a favor
writing a new novel
drenched in flavor and spice
A salaciously savory diversion
from other imagination deprived
books he's authored, available
in bookstores everywhere
now at a bargain bin price

His new literary achievement?
Penned in actions, not words
telling the story of how he
rose to stardom in the media
medium of Entertainment News
with help from other creeps who
systematically abuse women
behind closed doors

I think he should title this one
The Buddy System
but it is blatantly obvious
he's not very creative with titles

or with covering his tracks
as witnessed by so many
cash settlements paid to
the growing list of his
victims









92/30


Witches Are Bitches Four (Square's Her Game)

She's always charming
the pants off the boys

When it comes to the playground
Four Square is her game

You certainly don't want to
invite her to play Dodge Ball -
one hit to that schnozz
or the beauty mark located
above her upper pouty lip
would certainly spell
big trouble for you

I mean it
Don't get on her dark side
She has pentagrams aplenty
packed in her backpack
black salt and colored chalks
for every occasion you can imagine

And she's not afraid to use them

So, consider yourself lucky if she
just kicks you in the nuts
and walks away









93/30


Degenerative Metrics

Generation Degenerate
Knocking everyone different
downgraded as second rate
Equate terrorists with Muslims
Equate Muslims with Blacks
within the borders of your
White Supremacist State
Rabid foamings at the mouth
about the Rebel Flag's heritage
and its importance to the South
Rejecting friends and family
and everything worth while
Degenerate Generation
living in denial
I've no desire to keep up
with your live stream of hate
Senseless, endless
this descent into maddening
Intolerance of beliefs not yours
Yours taking precedence
Politics and Religion
Religion and Politics
A radio with one station
Obsessed beyond fixation
The only subjects
you've got time for
feeding your daily fix
You do nothing but denigrate
in volume cranked up to SHOUT
There's more to life than living
by your degenerative metrics
What choice do we have
but to tune you out
along with all the other
religionist racist pricks?









94/30


Miss Information

She leans over hedges
dialing up the Telephone Game
with neighbors, seeding gossip
vines that swiftly spread tendrils
throughout the community

Miss Information
germinator of factual innacuracies

What goes around the block
comes back around the block
never returning the same

which is good news for her
of course; the offshoots can't be
tracked to the origin point:

the one person
full of so much bullshit
she uses it to
fertilize her lies









95/30


No Poetry For Old Farts

We are literary dinosaurs
in a rapidly changing world
where poetry is going extinct

superseded by pop stars
who if stripped of voice
and musical reinforcement
would seriously have to
up their game when it
comes to writing lyrics

If you are like me
unable to play an instrument
or sing without scaring away
dogs and small children
your days as well as mine
are numbered unkind

unless

unless we make magic happen
in the minds of our readers

96/30


Google This

Dear Google Search Engine,

After over a decade of allowing websites
to emulate you in the art of digital theft

[ Yes, directly hotlinking to images
hosted on servers that other individuals
and businesses pay for is stealing ]

you are finally discussing the
penalization of their operations

[ many modeled after YouTube
a company owned by Google
which profits from "user uploads" ]

by lowering their rankings in correlation
to the number of complaints filed for
copyright infringement of videos and music
"uploaded by users"

[ which of course, YouTube
a company owned by Google
will be certainly exempt from ]

[ why you even still have YouTube
indexed in Google is beyond stupid
because everyone on the fucking planet
knows what YouTube is by now
as well as FaceBook, Pinterest, Twitter, Tumblr,
Bing? Yahoo?? Seriously???
but this is all aside from the point
I am about to make ]

Are you also going to issue an apology
and financial restitution to all the owners
of said stolen content you bankrupted as
a result of your sending billions of surfers
to those crooks because your algorithms
gave them front page search exposure?

You ASSHOLES helped other ASSHOLES
put hundreds of thousands of webmasters
and employees out of business

I just wanted you to know that

Irony is the closest thing there is
to poetry in this world

and your poetry sucks ass

Sincerely,
Currently Looking For Employment
Courtesy Of One Of The Most
Corrupt Corporations In Existence
That Thinks It Owns The Goddamn
Internet










97/30


Oiled Up At The Nude Beach

I hope you don't mind me sharing
the bit of my soul here I am baring
regarding actions of mine recent
quite out of character and daring
many details of which I'll be sparing
you from hearing about my indecent
exposure at the nude beach declaring
exhibitionist freedom for all by airing
out my private parts in an innocent
way as I let my primary piston and ball
bearing pairing dangle about on display










98/30


Dreams

Some dreams aren't

meant to be anything more
than what they already are

I've accepted that
Made my peace with it

There are more lifetimes ahead
for such flights of fantasy

and I feel sorry for those
poor souls who believe this is
our one and only chance at
the happiness God intended
for us to experience

I may have been born this way
but I'll be damned if I die
settling for anything less
this time around










99/30


No Apologies

Forgive me
for withholding
many details of my personal life
through my poetry; I prefer
not to stir up the ghosts

Rather than evict them
reclaim my old haunting grounds
I chose to move out and live
in the moment; the Present is
where I battle my demons

The wraiths of childhood bullies
who do occasionally materialize
in my thoughts only linger long enough
to serve as a reminder that

I already killed them

not by physically decimating them
at least hundred times
in the arena of my mind
which I did to no avail

but instead by
turning my back on them
and walking away

Time does not heal a damn thing

We do
with great self restraint
refraining from severing
the scar tissue of old wounds
in mistaken attempts of slitting
throats of unwanted apparitions










100/30


Shrodinger's Cat Stuck In A Well

I am out of ideas to write poetry about

or rather

the ideas are out of me

So many there have been
in such a brief span of time
that I question whether or not
there is anything left;
memories to draw upon
abandoned song lyrics
some ongoing DRAMA

or even if
there is any ink left in the well
to dip my quill in

but the doctor I play on TV
( he's a brilliant physicist in his own mind )
insists there is
and there isn't

and that I should not look

100 down

50 to go

101/30


Gallows Humor

Have you ever noticed that in every
movie taking place in the Old West
the town grunts have to build a
new gallows necessary in hanging
the hero who is railroaded by
a rich dude who owns the biggest
ranch west of the Mississippi?

Seriously?

Back then, they hung some
poor smuck every other day!

Hoestly, have you ever seen
a protagonaist gunfighter in
a Hollywood or Spaghetti western
who was well hung?

Guess that's what happens
when you use the same (t)rope
too many times
It wears out

I'ma frayed I just wasted
your time with this poem










102/30


Some Ghosts Are Welcome

My childhood went up in smoke
when my parent's home burned

For the first time in my life, they
were noticeably at odds

She had enough money set aside
from an inheritance to purchase a
not so new not so mobile mobile home

He would be damned if they
paid a few hundred dollars in rent
on a tiny sliver of land

I insisted they come to a decision
because I couldn't stand them arguing
and not getting along in my house

To make a long, miserable story short
my mother caved, my father got his way
they moved away in towards Chicago
to live rent free in an old apartment
building owned by other family

He was in and out of the VA
hospital for the next five years
until he died of
bladder cancer
and
Alzheimer's

She has lived in a
not so new not so mobile mobile home
ever since, independent and happy
for the last eleven years or so despite
the park association raising the rent
on her tiny sliver of land
but so far, so good

There is no poetry in this tale
to glean; only regret

regret for demanding my parents
get along or get out of my home

For that, I was wrong as well

We are only human
We make mistakes

I've long since moved on
and you should too
but you are welcome to stay
in my home for as long
as you want










103/30



The Wonder Woman Years

Not many of the neighbors
got to see how fiercely feminine
I was in my homemade
Wonder Woman costume

but the raincoat fending off
cold drizzle didn't slow my charge
into battle down the sidewalks
in the pursuit of Liberty, Justice
and Snickers Bars

I wasn't just any Amazon either

As evidenced by a long flowing
black mane courtesy of Ben Franklin
I was Lynda Carter
the most beautiful woman ever
to walk the face of the Earth

or fly around it in her own plane

My older brother and his friends
always teased me about my
fascination with the super heroine
saying on numerous occasions
Princess Diana was a dyke
from the Island of Lesbos

It would be a few more years
before I learned what
they were giggling about
but once I understood

I loved her even more

and began to love myself










104/30



Art

Art doesn't imitate life

Life is art

And you are most successful at creating it
when your drawing hands aren't tensed up
as you fret over how it is going to turn out
so worried that it won't be perfect
or you will screw it up beyond repair
and have to start over from scratch
focusing your energies on all the ways
you can prevent it from being ruined

instead of creating what you want
and taking it for granted
it will happen










105/30


The Popsicle Stick Poet

Even though I grew up
in the era of the typewriter
and spiral notebook
I am a poet of the Digital Age

Inconceivable it is;
the prospect of not
tapping away on a tablet
with a faux pencil stylus
or my usual four fingers
pounding laptop keys
into early retirement

hacking and slashing
with the glorious Godsend
that is Cut And Paste

though this be my bane
as it is the number leading
cause of death to perfect verse
riddling it with typos and other
odd artifacts

I am not destined long for this world
as a writer without electricity
and there is no going back to
the way things were

but will do my best to adapt
even if it means scribbling
onto wooden popsicle sticks
laying them on the floor
rearranging them willy nilly
snapping apart my thoughts
if need be, until the message
is picked up loud and clear

106/30


Luck Of The Draw

The Desperado rarely misses
always gets the girl at story's end
As the credits roll, there will be kisses
but the life of a gunfighter
takes its toll

There's always a lawman gunning for him
when he only wants to settle down
with one good hearted woman
and be welcome in any town

call at least one soul "friend"

As luck wouldn't have it
loading rounds into empty chambers
spinning barrels like roulette wheels
now wasn't the time for the happy ending
the Lord in his infinite wisdom
determined he was never worthy of









107/30


[strike]can't[/strike]

There's plenty of Time
or never enough of it
and you're in between
making the excuses
for why this is possible
and that can't be done
with the amount given

Substitute Time with Luck
Luck with Money
Money with Love
and so forth

Accepting this for what
it is - Truth, you begin the *
journey of taking responsibility
for having a hand in the
creation of how your world
unfolds on a daily basis

You don't get the luxury of
playing the blame game
as you were accustomed to

but you do get to take
credit for your successes
from now on rather than
attributing these to forces
beyond your control

Existence is a canvass

Recognize the paint brush
and color palette in your hands
and there is nothing you can't
do in this life short of regenerating
a missing limb or dying organ

Get to know the photographer
behind the camera presenting you
with what you see in the framed
succession of moments parading
through your cerebral cortex

for there is more of you
than meets the eye
on the other side of the lens
than you've ever believed was
possible









108/30


removed by Magnetron




109/30


Pirate's Intuition

There be gold and silver
jewels and gemstones
ripe for the plundering
beyond the rocky shoal

I smells it on the wind
I hears it in the lull
between waves thundering
against the hull

Lap it up with your tongue
breath it deep into each lung
treasure fine as this
tis an acquired taste

I'll shall be acquiring it soon
if this lead balloon of a ship
doesn't become faster paced

Yo ho and ROW
you scurvy dogs GO
as if your life depended on it
and you know it does

Yo ho and GO
you scurvy dogs ROW
for fortunes now
that never was









110/30


Building Blocks

I was a laborer for a bricklaying outfit
in Chicago for about a week until
I was laid off to the side like a
pile of crumbled cinder blocks

Though I forced my protesting body
battered as it was, out of bed
every morning to report for duty
they were more merciful in
simply putting me out of my misery

I was thankful for the opportunity
and freely admit that I have about
as much upper body strength as
those dinosaurs with tiny arms;
I can't do a chin-up or ten push-ups
to save my life

Nowadays, I mortar words together
building walls in the minds of readers
who paint murals upon them with their
process of association

There's no physical exercise involved
in sitting at a desk before a computer
and I have atrophied into something akin
to our extinct friends along the lines of
a rubber chicken, but my poetic erections
will be standing firm for generations to come

111/30


Building Hotels For The Insane

Insanity
is a monopoly
on all kinds of crazy with its own
GET OUT OF JAIL FREE
card

It's certainly helped me
get out of many trick
sticky situations

You merely have to believe
there are solutions to problems
ready available

or

believe there are no problems at all

Pass GO and collect two-hundred dollars
or wait for someone or something
to come along and bail you out

Either way
reality is a hotel
constantly undergoing construction
when you go against
the grain of logic
by traveling the board in
counter clockwise fashion









112/30


We Are And We Are Not

who we say we are
from one day to the next
is subject to change

To be convinced
you can never be this other person
is to never be this other person
convinced he or she
could be you

As a child
you were many different
people in your imagination
and you eventually grew up to become
a few of those consolidated

a hero, an accountant, a father

As you became that man
you put away that child
you thought you no longer were
with your childish things

and without any of conscious
planning that came so natural before
you just as easily ended up
as few more individuals
you never intended to be

an angry taxpayer, a hoarder, an alcoholic

because that child
is still there calling the shots
believing he can be anyone

even those he is afraid of becoming








113/30


Gods, Monsters And Men

You feel safer out there
with me in here behind
bars, the only obstacle
separating you from getting
to know the real person

I am

What you fear most

when God is dropping a church
ceiling on devoted parishioners
is being swept up in his random
acts of senseless violence

I can assure you
your death at my hands
would have much greater
meaning for the both of us








114/30


Barbarians At The Gate

I am what I am
a host of barbarians
heaving a battering ram
into the tainted iron gate behind
your white laced chaste kingdom
scaling walls of wavering refusal
grabbing hold of each
statuesque bust
using these as leverage
and should push come to shove
shove comes to inevitable thrust
we will release the Dogs of War
to run amok in your
paisley courtyards
if we must









115/30


The Tell-Tale Poet

My literary colleague
speaks of using word as
building blocks

but let me tell you
he is no tale-tell cinder fella story
like that Edgar Allen Poe sure was

I know this to be true
because I can still hear the beating
hearts of victims imprisoned
in his brick walls

rhythmic with their scratching
nails against mortar, clawing
drawing in the last breaths
well beyond oxygen depletion

enduring as ghosts of the English
language he murdered most foul

116/30


Says Who?

The person I wish you to be

you say that you aren't her

The friend you have in me

Well, I'm not so sure
I can stroll beaches and boardwalks
any longer without holding your
hand in mine

Did it ever occur to you
I'm the one who holds
your hair as you're praying
to the Porcelain God
after too much wine?

Still, I keep my chin up
during late night talks
while you drone on
about the latest man
that rejected you
always lying through my teeth
saying everything will turn out fine

I know you can

You insist you can't
that it goes against the
grain of the Lord's plan

Says who?

Only you do

and yet I continue
to be your number one fan
tried and true

What the hell does that tell you?









117/30


No One's Reading

I have tapped out a millennium's
worth of poetry with four fingers
minus thumbs

Got down on one knee
to pose prose to you

And still you've yet to learn

the lesson that will earn
respect you're due 'cause

embarrassed someone will see
your panties and bras

you refuse to let the
unmentionables hang out
on the laundry line

Maybe I should just jump
up and down and shout

or paint it on a billboard
if you can't read the sign

Dance like no one's watching
Write like no one's reading

There's not a soul around
for miles competing for a trophy

Who gives a flying fuck
about an apostrophe missing
a few typos or that lower case i?

What sense is there in
pitching a literary fit?
Do yourself a favor
Drop the pretense

There's no shame in kissing
perfection's ass
goodbye









118/30


Welcome To The Doll House

She has the perkiest plastic tits
balancing out a cookie cutter
heart shaped ass
the perfect companion
complementing *you
in that dollhouse made of glass
where everything in your life
is on display, all for show
much like your trophy wife
same as you climbing
out of your hot tub
in that leopard spotted speedo

The more you flaunt
the mail order bride
the Rolex, the sports car
the less impressed we are

How you can never see this
through our blinds drawn
twenty-four / seven
is a mystery

Maybe the FOR SALE
sign on our front lawn
will clue you in









119/30


What An Asshole!

I'm sorry if this isn't poetic enough
but when did bleaching one's
anus become a thing?

What a heinous crime of fashion
to commit upon your poor
sensitive sphincter

Isn't it enough that it burns
for those of us who have to
NAIR away the hair?

And for what?
So some douche can comment
on how it blends in better with the
skin color of your rump?

If you are not a porn star
nor plan on modeling butt
plugs anytime in the future
don't bother with this trend

Sticking your head up your ass
and fussing over your butthole
is about as self absorbed
as self absorbed gets









120/30


Evermore

My dearest Eleanor, come!
away from the bedroom door
Join me in an exchange of rum
between rumpled sheets and
silken fabrics we shall explore

Let that rotten Raven be!
to wander streets in its misbegotten
misbehavin' ways of mis-fits with their
tweets; crowings, comings and goings
blowings of big black cock in the night
tis not my cravin' these days

Oh, Eleanor, oh, dear God!
you are the first and the lass
in my thirst queer and odd
Cradled 'tween plump cheek ass
your bottled liquor I wish to drink from
evermore

evermore

121/30


The New Gods In Town

Cherry picked with electrical solicitations
here and there in the participant's brain
sensations mimicked you will treasure
ranging anywhere from pleasure to pain

The new frontier is almost here
We've got a more work to do
It's taking longer than six days
but we're making good times
to be had by you

We're the New Gods In Town
perfecting Universe Number Two

Will you take the plunge into
this fresh virtual construct?

Or will you opt to stay behind
finish out your earthly lives
in the old physicality that is to be
reverse engineered

Layers of biological matter
shall be peeled back eventually
as we introduce ourselves to
the Old Gods long revered









122/30


Meet The Thomases

The Doubting Thomases
have spoken with good reason
about you living up to your
promises now broken
shortly after electoral season
The one and only avenue down
which actual progress is being made
leaps and bounds towards
an impeachment for treason

and in record time

Oh, the great lengths you've gone
to cover up your tracks

I'm sorry to say,
actions speak louder than words
and we saw you mouthing off
from miles away










123/30


The Threat Is Real

Do not panic

You are safe

The threat is real only in your mind

Same as it was when you were child
in the backseat of a lumbering Ford
cruising the countryside effortlessly
as you watched scenery cascade by
imagining water towers and grain silos
were the machinations from Mars
straight out of an H.G. Wells novel
or that every propane tank farm
was a toxic gas depot that anyone
traveling by would best off holding
their breath until safely passed in case
the metal of a single massive cylinder
was breached with a devastating leak

You miraculously survived your childhood

You'll come out of this unscathed as well










124/30


Klaatu Barada Strukto

The Automaton
crushed all those
it came upon
scrambling to flee
its destructive path

with a wrath equivalent
to the opposite of ambivalent

Did not hesitate to kill on
this day the Earth stood still

From the outer reaches of space
it was sent

by galactic overlords
not just one but hordes

to every major human city
in pre-emptive retaliation
for mankind's nuclear capability

weapons of which
we refused to dismantle
and disarm

Do no planetary harm









125/30


Type, Poe, Type!

When modern day Poes are in the throes of poetic passion
composing disjointed prose about Gothic romance
occurring in the dark expanse of a mansion
there are only thrustings and thirstings
followed by bustings and burstings
involving squirtings and spurtings
of words and letters coming
together in no particular
fashion

seeing only scarlet
through Masques of Red Death
as the deluge of literary splooge flows

our Poets are unable to see the red line
underneath their typos

126/30


Stomach Butterflies

Ginger in the nude body suit
gives me the stomach butterflies
I'm talking about the Viberzi chick

She's a walking poop chute
making gas and diahrrea eyes
I know it's an advertising trick

and its working

I'm popping pill after pill
hoping that sexy gremlin will
appear and follow me everywhere
as if she was attached
to my rear

And I swear
I'll put up with
every annoying antic
and shenanigan of hers

because my feelings for her
have been released from their
colon chrysalis

and there's no putting
a cork back in the bottle










127/30


Call Me A Dwarf One More Time

I am an angry small man making
angry small footprints in the sand
Taking that into consideration
get in my way, slow me down
you'll get the backside of my hand
before I dropkick you into next week
I prefer "midget" to being called "dwarf"
Disney made them silly and weak
Tolkien, as fierce as sailors at a wharf
but too hairy and I have very little patience
for big, clumsy clodhoppers like you
who think they're God's gift to normal









128/30


Gutter Punch Drunk

Poe may have been a nutter
who died face first in the gutter
but his words will live on to butter
down to the very last crumb
the bread of Gothic romance
starved generations to come

His verse today and tomorrow
is a reminder of the sorrow
he tried to drown in the bottle
a depression he could not throttle
because with four fingers of rum
in each hand, he was all thumb









129/30


Exit Stage Left

I remain malformed, incomplete
destined to repeat
history
if I don't change my evil ways

Didn't get it right the first time
Try, try again
Story of my lives lived
in Penny Dreadful passion plays

There be no rest for the weary soul
wandering this Garden of Eden at night
hands blistered and bleeding
from all the weeding necessary to achieve
Karmic perfection and the right to
exit stage left









130/30


Children Of The Corn Cob

It's macabre, I know
but children of the corn cob
really do grow in the great state of Nebraska

And when you are wandering in the maize
they pop out in very scary ways
too terrible to mention
I doubt you would tell me if I asked ya

Though I've heard from a crowing blackbird
that its similar to the Baby Jesus
emerging from that cave he lived in
doing the Ally McBeal baby dance
and seeing his shadow, predicting
poetry for Thirty More Days!

131/30


Ultraviolet

no sirens blaring
Everyone running for their lives
no sirens blaring
Ultraviolet raining down from the skies
no sirens blaring
Without warning, civilization dies
"No need for sirens"
The President tweets
while Joe Public fries

Ozone holes plugged with rhetoric
prone to confabulation in a nation
brainwashed by their own creation
artificial realities of self preservation

Climate Change
is nothing but a hoax
perpetuated by Scientists
who have extensive university
degrees in telling jokes

But, I digress
and here I am to confess
I didn't believe it either
until I heard
no sirens blaring
Fresh water supplies evaporated
no sirens blaring
Boiling seas now over salinated
no sirens blaring
The President tweets
"It's nothing but a hoax
no sirens blaring
and the joke's on no one
but us










132/30


A Life Lived In Black And White

My childhood was a not a scary movie
Quite the opposite; quiet and dull
lived within the maze of Illinois cornfields

When it came to Saturday night
Creature Features, I was front and center
for flicks to the imagination such as
Night Of The Living Dead
on WFLD Channel 32 out of Chicago

Not that there are any particular
outstanding memories I can recall
other than my sister leaving the room
in revulsion when zombies ate a
couple after they burned alive
in a car fire and I said,
Mmmm ... tastes like fried chicken

It was life lived in black and white
fright fests intensely contrasting
the 9 to 5 grind house of torturous
horrors to come as an adult when
life imitated art and we became
the walking dead overnight

Whenever the weekend arrives
and the sun goes down, I feel myself
in my element - a vampire roosting
in the soil of his native homeland
lining a cozy coffin









133/30


Turrets Syndrome

Lie back on the leather couch

while I listen to the sound of
your guts spilling out

messy innards of a claustrophobic
life not being lived
up to its potential

on the inside looking out

from a towering monument
to Insecurity's stronghold over
the most innocuous of daily decisions
reinforcing imprisonment within
a physicality of unfortunate events

The more unraveled bowel
the more intestinal fortitude
can be mustered as rope
to be utilized in repelling
down from the turret

Without hair like Rapunzel
this will have to do









134/30


Squawk and Gawk, Chicken Little

More than Thirty Days
has quietly gone by without
the sky actually falling

despite your daily fart
blossoming release
into the atmospheric under
current; attempts
to breach the ozone layer
with a peculiar brand of
bubbled stink
allowing the deadly ultraviolet
to rain devastation down
upon our heads

or in the very least
giving everyone a
substantial hole
( other than yourself )
to gawk at
while you point and thump
your fist upon the
Bible of Self Fulfilling Prophecy

I'll be darned if that ain't
the entire month of April
without some poor sap maimed
limb lost in a cotton nitpicker

All is well in Duperville

It always was









135/30


Ultra Violet

Sliding
winding down the stripper pole
I'm the gliding garden snake
who stole your virginity

in a single dance
without removing any pants
opened those eyes to their
widest yet

Your soul within bathed
in the glory of my alter ego
Utlra Violet

And with a little grinding
hip shake-shake
mere inches from your face
I take money faster
than you can possibly make it

How 'bout we plan on a play date?
I'll see you next week
after payday

136/30


You're Kidding Me, Right?

It's not very often I get riled up
but when I do, it's usually because
some one says some thing
that makes me question whether
the Human Race is capable of *
surviving its own obliviousness to
what's going on right before its eyes

Paraphrasing
a seemingly innocent question posed:
Can Megan Fox's acting career survive the negative
comments she made about director Michael Bay?

I found my head wanting to explode

Survive what exactly?

Whatever she said
that resulted in his replacing her
in a third Transformers franchise film
with a Victoria's Secret model
having zero acting experience
says enough in itself

but I will go on to add, Yes
her ACTING career will be just fine
despite
being cast as nothing more than
eye candy in his first two flicks
simply for boys to drool over

Same goes for Fox's
replacement's ACTING career
and her replacement's
replacement's ACTING career
whose names I can't even remember
due to the characters they played
having no character whatsoever

What's more frightening than
any scary movie ever made is
that people this clueless about
their own immediate environment
are allowed to vote for politicians
who take charge of governments

The better question to be asked is

Can Humanity survive its own stupidity?










137/30


The Poem That Never Was

I don't know about you
but I'm not interested
in reading the same poem
you wrote the day before
written by someone else
the day before that
and so on

There are poems riddled
with forgivable cliches

And then there are other poems
cliches in and of themselves

Most of you
newbs to the exciting world of poetry
will eventually come to this understanding
and wholeheartedly agree with it
challenging yourself to write
not just a poem every day, but

a poem that never was










138/30


The Prototype

Silicone
stretched over synthetic sinew
flesh and bone

Loverboy, Loverbot, whatever
I've finally got you
all alone to myself

Would have lived in a box
collecting dust on a warehouse shelf

but now your in my bed
about to receive the best head
of your sheltered life

Normally, I'm into girls
but tonight you'll be into me
I can't imagine a better man in my life

than one who won't pretend
he'll call me










139/30


The Bone Cabinet

There is so much
life affirming poetry
within of you

I run the scalpel
in a single stroke
down your sternum

Sawing through
the deadbolts of your chest
keeping rib cage firmly secured
Lay my hands on the best
kept locked inside your
bone cabinet of creative wonders

thump thump
still is beating
thump thump
heart of a poet in my hands
thump thump
treating it with all the care in the world

thump thump
as I'm eating
thump thump
feeling it sliding down my throat
thump thump
the rhythmic bass
every lyrical note
keeping pace
with the beautiful words that you wrote









140/30


Afterthoughts Of An Incomplete Soul

I'm usually lacking in profound things to say
No surprise; I'm an incomplete soul

an afterthought at the end of the day

You get what you paid for
This product you stole

[throat scream]NOTHING MORE THAN AN EMPTY BLACK HOLE[/throat scream]

Why
am I
not more "I"
than I should be?
Lost in a crowd of us, our, they, them, we

I would take it as insult
that there's something wrong with me
but that would mean
there wasn't anything
wrong with

YOU, THE ONE IN CONTROL
HEAVENLY HOLIER THAN THOU ASSHOLE
I AM SATAN, HEAR ME ROAR!
YOU SHALL KNOW ME FOREVER MORE
IN YOUR DARKEST DAYDREAMS
EARTHLY LIFE UNRAVELING AT THE SEAMS
A SUCCESSION OF SCREAMS
THAT WON'T ESCAPE YOUR THROAT

I resign to being
what you loathe and fear
everything wrong in the world
Scapegoat of the Millennium

Toss into the black hole I am
all that you wish not to be

absolved of
your sins
inability to love

Go ahead
Blame it all on me

141/30


Silenced Lambs

Dear Agent Starling,

Do you really think that if you
spell it out neatly in your detailed
reports and files that those spring
lambs will ever stop their screaming?

Every monster you put behind bars

or

to death like our poor Buffalo Billy

may put you rungs higher on the ladder
in a world where all the men question
your ability to do what they consider
to be a man's job, but

I'd doubt their hesitation to
trample you on their way up
grinding heels into your knuckles
until you say, Uncle ...

... or in this case, Uncle Sam

You might save a few unfortunates
along the way from having the their
flesh flayed and sewn into a
human costume, but are you truly
comfortable in the suit you wear?

Even now, I can see you
squirming in the skin you are in
with so many eyes fondling your
fleshy parts, judging the
width of your waspy waist
dovetailed curvature of cleavage
and what it would be like to have
the monuments to their manhood
erected on the tip of your
southern drawling tongue

I fear your need for their approval
will consume you as much as you
would devour their flesh in bed

or perhaps up against a wall
in a basement storage locker where
there are no bagged and tagged
mementos of the rude people I ate

My advice is, if you are going to
take anything into your mouth
leave no trace evidence behind
as I did; swallow it whole

be deliberate with your dalliances
leave nothing to chance or they
just might accuse you of sleeping
your way to the top ten most
wanted employees of the F B I

Until we meet again, TTFN

Yours always,

Hannibal









142/30


Only Poets Read Other Poets

A great philosopher, poet
and all around smart-ass
twelveoone
[ pronounced twelve-oh-one ]
said unto me
as we conversed upon
the pinnacle of a Mount Literoticus
"Only poets read other poets."

I held up a stone tablet
carried around for such an occasion
in my backpack

Upon it was chiseled the
Twelfth or Thirteenth Commandment
( can't remember which )

Thou Shalt Not Stereotype!

( I added the exclamation point with a Sharpie )

For all that noise coming out our radios
accompanied by guitars, pianos and such
is poetry
and billions of people
without a poetic bone in their bodies
can't live without it

The problem is
those billions of people can and do live without
the kind of poetry we write because
not only is it lacking in music
and is not sung

it has been given a bad reputation for

not making any sense
( granted, some poems don't )

coming off like a private joke
( granted, some poems do )

perpetuating riddles without answers
( yes, that is extremely obnoxious
I'll grant you that as well )

Okay, I admit I'm not really
helping our case here .....

So, what now?
Do we just settle for
only being read by other poets?

Or do we write verse embedded
with musicality and prompts
that inspires Average Joe to experience
our poetry as music in their minds?

Go sit under a tree
fire up your I-Pod, Walkman or whatever
and ponder this for a while:

People going through their days
without ear buds or headphones
listening to your poetry
their playlists
set to REPEAT









143/30


Living The Luxurious Lie

Luxurious hair
Unblemished skin
Trashy lashy eyes
A lie I'm accustomed to living in
Should come as no surprise
This is the world created within
your mind

The perfect life
The Stepford Wife
One of numerous stage props
in your dramaverse that never stops
revolving around you
and your kind

Another Artificial Blonde
pleasing the Pretty Blind

What fails to live up to your
ideals of perfection
doesn't receive an inspection pass

You wouldn't know what beauty was
if it bit you in the ass









144/30


Anything You Say

Lately, so many
faces you're showing
Saying you are staying
one day, the next
you are going

Leaving us
in a perpetual
state of unknowing
Can't seem to
make up your mind
with all these
seeds of doubt
you are sowing

Why so difficult
for you to commit?

How can we
ever put our trust in it -
the story from your mouth
when it changes from day to day?

Feeling as though
I can no longer believe in
anything you say

Anything you say









145/30


The Purple Poetry Power Station

It's time to get it on
Put a quarter in the slot
Activate the Magnetron
Give me all you got
on dance floor

No, no, no
We're locking the door

Put you on the spot
Do the Rubber Chicken
Next, the Robbie Robot
Then, Stir the Witch's Cauldron

For good measure
Midget Toss The Leprechaun
into the pot

On the dance floor
Not just a lot
Give me all you got

Wrap it up
with Finding Nemo
Be creepy as Marylin Manson
Do the Gothic Emo
You only get one chance
one chance, to make
an ass of yourself

On the dance floor
like no one's watching

146/30


Figure Eights

On ice, skating
different paths intersecting
creating an endless series of figure eights

Once or twice in their gliding
coming close to colliding
on seemingly random calendar dates

Each taking time
perfecting their striding
what rhyme and reason is left to the Fates

Placed on gurneys after long journeys
resulting in the breaking of one another's legs
suddenly being faced with their potential soulmates
begs the question:

was it Accidental
or
was it Destiny

?









147/30


Signs Of The Times

Never have I spent
so much time writing poetry

Back in the days
when forums were popular
( because people tried to
have actual discussions
as opposed to lately )
my energy was reserved for
firing bullet points across the table
into the heads of my opposition
with polemics about politics and religion
sure to knock them out of their
ivory towers of partisanship

I have learned since
that it's not worth it;
being a voice of reason
to counter the insanity
comes with a hefty price tag

There's so much more to pen about
if you're willing to open yourself up
rather than limit yourself to saying
I'm the man for the job

You become like that guy
obsessed with the End Times
who's convinced he is the one
of few blessed with keen insights
into when the Rapture occurs
and is compelled to be a walking
billboard public announcement

never living in his final days on Earth

Neither will you, if you insist upon
carrying around your own sign
walking the pavement with him

By all means
write it in a poem
publish a book of poetry
on those and other
controversial subjects

Just keep moving on your feet
and not in circles around the block
ending up back where you started









148/30


A Matter Of Inches

I'm not exactly sure why you
want me to clap my hands and cheer

You ran and jumped up in the air
from that line over to here

In the sand, you made it
a few inches farther than last year

Congrats for you?
Hooray for Humankind?
So many thoughts running
through my mind

I don't know how to feel about this
need off yours to outdo your self
and everyone else in a contest
that amounts to nothing more
than beating your opponents
by a slight edge in score
measly increments on a ruler

How much money did you
give to the homeless?
How much time did you
spend mentoring a youth?
How much trash did you
pickup along a highway ditch?

So many actual real world
accomplishments of which
I could easily give a shit about










149/30


Paradelle Universes

Be proud of yourself

Yeah, it's just one more
trophy on your shelf
likely to collect dust

But it is so much more
when you melt down the medals
and pour the metal into a single
testament to your commitment:

being the best
possible version of yourself
walking the spectrum of
all the alternate worlds
combined

these Paradelle Universes
where we live multiple existences
repeating verses in an untold
number of variations

none of which are ever perfect
nor can we retrace our steps
and edit our past mistakes

allowing us the luxury to fail









150/30


Good And Plenty

Woot Wooooooooot!

ALL ABOARD!

Ahavati was the engineer
she had herself
a perty swell idear
She thought
That National Poetry Writing Month
sure sounds fun
It would be an awesome
challenge for everyone

Johnny said
Write poetry good and plenty
Johnny said
Have good tales to tell
Johnny said
Look what Muses sent me

and the rest of them
spent Thirty Days in Hell

I know I can
I know you can
I know we can
Oh, no you didn't!
Yes, I did
Not just me

"We"

150 poems in 30 days.



I feel like collapsing into some obscene substance puddled on the floor.