A ration of bullets we're given at birth
To hold off the Grim Reaper- they call him Old Nick
Till pushed in a corner we make our last stand
When we pull on the trigger, our pistol goes "click"
The Good Thief did what he wanted in life then got a free pass, though he still had to go through crucifixion.
Meanwhile the rest of us are here in the used cross lot, kicking the crosstrees, fingering the nails.
No one uses rhyme or meter
Free verse makes such a racket
The madman only sounds coherent
Locked up in his straight jacket
Is this the hard reality
Or am I only dreaming
There are no major poets now
They've all gone into streaming
Some try to prove the existence of God by the splendor of the Universe.
God says, That’s nothing. Stand back and watch this-
Further back
More
Keep going
The helpful guest asks for a job
Before he fills his belly
Change the baby, pat the dog
Do an oil change on old Nelly
Caffeine quick is coffee
Caffeine slow is tea
Caffeine sweet is cola
Can of Red Bull—caffeine juvie
The person who grumbles about having to do all the work themselves often finds it more trouble than it’s worth to train the help when offered.
None of the hovels of old London or Paris have been preserved.
Every American city should preserve a block or two of their fast food strip for the bemusement of future generations.
From red bull to the ever expanding reaches of God, How can we not give this poet a nod?
ReplyDeleteWe can't not.
DeleteYou just keep 'em comin'!
ReplyDeleteFav of the week is below, but as the Buddha said, there is a middle way - I would add, even for the madman.\
No one uses rhyme or meter
Free verse makes such a racket
The madman only sounds coherent
Locked up in his straight jacket