Archive for the ‘ Poetry ’ Category

Sunday compressed

the hamster was not made for Sunday
ImageSunday was made for the hamster

wake up with dreams of Snadragon
fading in the noonday sun
foggy memories that haunt the waking hours

do a quick check of all systems:
body, check
vision, check
imagination, check
serenity, check

drink a glass of water
stretch, stretch, s-t-r-e-t-c-h

another day, another Sunday…
another gift from Gumbytron

so many hamsters worshipping their football
sit and worship briefly
bless the forward pass

take the hrududu to marionkind
on a sunny afternoon
hamster paws serenely holding the wheel
there’s always a wheel somewhere with hamsters

a familiar road
under November skies
the King’s taxes well spent

mad Mike is out on his bike
and Father Time is assembled in his usual spot
flipping his remote between football and murdering shows

let’s go to Pittsburgh!

and do what?

you’re right

the perpetrator
the crumbhunter
the shiteater
his hind legs aren’t always cooperating these days
and the fur on his back is sparse

he’s begun to expect a Slim Jim
so we walk to the store down the street

time for the smoky communion
pauses in the thread of conversation
considering the thoughtsicles
that crust up in the imagination

floating back to the galleon
to take my place among the galley hamsters
push button-get reward
our only motivation
push button-get ignored
our state of stasis

no response from the ethers
no pushbutton validation
string a few syllables together for no one
in particular

the point of making a point in pointlessness

sit beside the traffic
smoking a cigarette
as the breath clouds up the night
content with something
content with something



smartphone zombies

A woman reading SMS messages on her mobile pho...

A woman reading SMS messages on her mobile phone while standing on a bike in traffic. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Here is a poem about the real zombies living all around us.

smartphone zombies

farts, moans, zombies
smartphone zombies

buzzing each other
like busy busy bees

step on some crack
and break a junkie’s back

weaving through mall traffic
impervious to life

watch the infection spread
moths’ staggering dance of death

but then how would they suspect?



Note to Self #8

Photograph of two Eggo's toaster waffles with ...

Photograph of two Eggo's toaster waffles with maple syrup. Afrikaans: Wafels met esdoringstroop. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

i remember that day now…  pretty trippy…  i had been off my psych meds for 3 months

Note to Self #8

love has no logic but the freedom of expression…
does a book have dreams of taking naps
in a quiet library?
or being adapted/adopted in a book store?

or is an easily suggestible digestive system
good for the solar system?

I love the smell of napalm
on your pancakes or maybe
some nuclear/unclear maple syrup…

but Big Al drew a stinky
and the cyanitrous wouldn’t feel good there
so Anna kindly gave me ten for nine
and rendered unto Ceasar Salad.

As a reconfigured veteran
of the psychic imagination game
i like to go where I can feel the love…

I do love zippers
on marshmallow pants
and sprinkling the bamboo jungle
in my friend’s gardens
cause it smiles back with rainbows!

an irregular jesus

Security camera at London (Heathrow) Airport. ...

Security camera at London (Heathrow) Airport. Taken by Adrian Pingstone in August 2004 and released to the public domain. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

an irregular Jesus

an irregular Jesus
who likes to take vacations in the asylum
walks into Ace hardware for some glass cleaner
and gets lost

he finds himself in line with a bottle of pneumonia
when the lady in front of him has her credit declined
and walks away empty handed

he yallers, “Hey! i got a GOLD tooth.”
but she disapppears

he forgets his first miracle for a moment
and the pain in his chest nearly drops him to the floor

he laughs and waves at the security camera
remembering to wander
to the corner to clean a few windows for the Man

people that came from nowhere

people that came from nowhere

when you look up at the sky
which stars whisper your name?

there are a people of whom i have heard
that when they look up at the sky
no stars whisper to them

wandering over the skies
they only look down
no stars whisper their names

the fact that time moves at such a pace
that stars will constellate for us
is a miracle in itself

the hunter has been whispering my name
i have a place to go
i think

in the blink of an eye

urr 03.23.20..12

hard as a chisel, a fool inside

Saguaro and teddy bear cholla with mountains i...

Saguaro and teddy bear cholla with mountains in background (Photo credit: Martin LaBar)

hard as a chisel, a fool inside

music, memories
being packed away
like yesterday’s news

it’s contrary to my nature

to be so forthcoming

pieces of two lives, more
the hunter marks the trail

twelve to a pack and loaded for bears
wipe away tomorrow’s tears
a sunny spring day to walk on mother earth

an extra thumb in somebody else’s book

lost again for the third or forth time today
led on by the lies the senses tell you

next you’ll be telling me
i’m making all this up
well someone has too

Fragment of a Sub(urban) Daydream

12 blue rubbish bins arranged in a circle.

Image via Wikipedia

Fragment of a Sub(URBAN) Daydream


Nirvana is a short NAP
in a BROOKlined cemetery…

there are memory bank rob(BERRIES) in progress
for the POOR concentration CAMPERS.
Everywhere the CLEAN streets are
lined with litter bins collecting DUST
particles along the BACK
of their Alley Ca(r)t-wheels…

can you spare A. Diamond
For a CUP of laughter in the park
as Shake-The-Speare wiggles a toe in the SAND?

put the RUBY on Thursday’s pulse
This TIME out
so you can meet at BO(o)TH ends
in the Middle sometimes
If oHIo calls again,

ears prick up your arse in UNI(S)ON
As you SURF the radio WAVES
for pent-up or strangled melodies…

Wait for it! just wait… remember, Milton,
your services have ALREADY been rendered
in your HOLIDAY pants
and SMILING is only your favorite Opt-i(o)n.

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