Category: Poetry

Rhyme Time, Yo (From the Unposted, Previously Unfinished Annals)

So here’s the gist, here’s the deal.
We have a lot of people making their spiel

about a guy who really didn’t do much in his life
aside from the living part, the kids and wife,

for what reason? He didn’t want to be ridden with guilt
and approach conversations on six-foot stilts.

He wanted peace, he wanted quiet, the kind of space to think,
in a world of vast opinion where individual liberties shrink

into untold recesses of ill-defined emotional junk.
So he grabs for his childhood, that meaningless chunk

setting him up for an average haze;
and now this last line rhymes with days.

Grande Espresso Ring

A tall man wearing a grande espresso ring stole my attention from a tarpaulin-wearing socket wrench-eating groundskeeper.

Where the distinction crosses my overworked plane still lies in the forbidden zone, though I surmise someone kept their turtle bracelet a day too long.

As long as everything flips hydrophobia under invoice paneling, your undernourished calcium ducts should respond with vim and vigor.

Pack

“By gum, Fanny Mae! Where’d you get that?”

“What, this fanny pack full of chewing gum?”

Apostrophe Bells

Bring it on from dusk ’til dawn;
we rendezvous at the stellar transmission.

Kindly, full-hearted apostrophe bells
understate global warmth, ever warming.

Hold us accountable, creative director–
we can always see where we went wrong.

Swimming up through our old molasses pits,
It’s time to kick those habits with a steel-toed boot.

Glue

“It’s a great part! How many times do I have to tell you? The fact that you’re not listening only aggravates my rage. Will you take off your headphones? Hello?! Hey, these things are stuck to your head! Did you glue them on? Are you so spiteful and petty as to purposefully ruin a perfectly good pair of headphones just to avoid listening to me? What if I had to tell you something really important, huh? What if I were telling you that I’m pregnant?!”

“Are you?”

“What, pregnant? That’s none of your business anyway. Hey, don’t tune me out! I can see your eyes glazing over!”

Hews

“It all stems from my fear of oranges.”

“Oranges as in the fruit, or oranges as in the hues?”

“Don’t even get me started on Hughs. I have a cousin named Hugh who puts his feet in suitcases six times a day. Try to figure that one out.”

“I meant hues as in… never mind. Suitcases? Does he travel a lot?”

“Wow, what an insightful question.”

Herald

Too many lolligagging pricks sitting around drinking tea and charming snakes from baskets. Everywhere you look, reptiles succumb to the suggestive power of complacent know-it-alls.

Am I going to have to be the one to stop it? You’re cowards, all of you. Oh, so some snakes are poisonous? Some lazy fools might have a violent edge? Boo hoo; that’s the way of the world, people.

Whatever happened to suggesting alternative pastimes? Clearly these serpent-loving lumps are just looking for attention in the least difficult way, and voila, they’ve got it. A full-page spread in the Herald, for Christ’s sake. Good thing nobody reads the paper anymore.