What happened to the funny man
that insecure comedian
O, not done, he carries on
transcendent verse, his latest con
I professorially , perceptively
unofficially
noiselessly spoke
that addlepated
moldy merchantman
would pass
through foaminess
with volumetrically
unretrievable moonshine
and sunberry fodder
for bungarus
his puppyish
impracticable tantrum
impeccable monotonous drone
rowdy crescendo
a classic companion dither
could they brainwash
this opposer ?
but lukewarm normalcy
will not obstreperously come .
okay !
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 14–20, 2026)
My Sweet Girl
Giddy baby, giggles and dimples,
hardly ever cried
Except when time for Mommy’s awaking,
With patient eyes she spied.
Humming with gurgling baby sounds,
Hair wispy softly curled,
Watching down the hall to catch me,
By precious, my sweet girl.
Quietly at play all the while,
two fingers in her mouth,
By chance If hearing my door open,
Only then she cried aloud.
If I could skip across the hall,
Bathroom just across from my room,
It must be done without a sound
I would quickly zoom.
But if she saw me my sweet girl,
would loudly make it known
Cries interpreted “Aha! I see you!
Your cover has now been blown!”
Don’t be a Cinderfella
I aint no Cinderella
get off your **** and mow
don’t watch the weeds all grow.
Now if we’re being truthful
I need you to be useful
cause I don’t need no boy
I don’t want no toy.
I need a real damn man
who likes to lend a hand
someone to meet my needs
not afraid to take the lead.
If you can’t bring to the table
everything you are able
then take a bloody hike
get on ya pussy bike.
Don’t need no Cinderfella
cause I aint no Cinderella
I like to get things done
throw in a little fun.
A real man provides protection
has a real connection
Is a calm within the storm
has a heart that’s really warm.
A real man aint no Cinderfella
He shouldn’t need no Cinderella.
I was sitting in sub-zero temperatures in the Northern Arctic
As one does when you're a Swedish spy
Caught between conflicting ethical codes...
Stuck in my tent I stumbled upon a poem
Pondering the experience of Hot British Tea.
The poem was long and decorous with adjectives.
My lips were stuck and frosted together in parts
As I murmured along with teeth chattering
With the rhythm of an African cheetah.
Though the words buttered into my soul.
"Steep," "simmering," "piping," and "warming"
Warmed my innards and radiated outward,
The imagination muscling forth the reality.
"SNIP!"
"SNIP!"
"SNIP!"
Crikey. Long-ranged silencers. I've been found.
(Hungarians.)
"SNIP!"
"SNIP!"
My poetry teacher Miss Took
read out poems out of her book
one poem was so rude
it was verging on lewd
"Thought t'was the other, I mistook"
Although my poems are not so numerous
I try to make them a little humerous
I'm certainly not a bard
but I do try very hard
to mix in a bit of the ridiculous
The blue waves smack the shore
Outlined by the oaken door.
Stand beside the cypress tree
Throw your arms out to the sea
On a mossy cliffside you can spy
The wheeling curlew, hear it cry.
Smell the cedar in the grove
See grass wave where rover's rove.
Hear the sea gull, feel the wild
White sails on silver, be beguiled.
So far from madness of the city
Cell phone rings, no longer free.
You run inside the cottage door
Find your backpack on the floor
Dig the phone out, as it plays
A ringtone singing "yesterday"
Its Chase bank, with a suspect charge
Ten thousand, that's awful large.
Text message comes from your landlord
Rats with fleas came in a horde
Your boss says he's needs you back soon
Work has come like a monsoon.
You leave the cottage bitterly
But you can't eat the scenery:
Can't throw the cell phone in the sea.
At least you have the memory...
There was this old fellow from Princeton
Whose Dodge Ram did throw a piston
With the engine bloc shot
He ran home at a trot
And switched to a Chevy in an instant
Dusk
brings a sense of calm
Sultry tones of his laugh
rent my headspace
Wrap around my fingers
like a lightning rod
Flush my face with fantasies
but none are rated family
And my juvenile self wonders
What it's like
to be consumed by love...
I think I'm close.
I for one
I’m being strangled
by the radiance of his half-life essence.
Ubiquitous beauty,
bleeding through my AMOLED screen.
To truly appreciate it
I need this in 4D.
4D? Why not 3D?
Because... for me
I want to exist beside his.
If my beginning and end are the same,
I’d want them both to have his.
And if I spent it all for his
I’d be the happiest frivol.
l once had a friend named Mildred
Who wiggled a lot in my bed,
She'd snore with delight
Her growl was a fright;
I rang the alarm loud... instead!
At the airport
I am stopped by a uniformed man
with strange customs.
Anything to declare?
I have declared everything in my poetry.
How many poems have you, sir?
Oh, about sixty or so.
The legal limit is ten.
You will be charged duty on the rest.
I was charged.
He scribbled a receipt in blank verse.
I got away lightly this time,
he didn’t find the rest.
Thank goodness he did not look
inside my head.
Big ghosts have small ghosts
in their dreams to haunt ‘em,
Small ghosts have smaller ghosts
and so-on ad infinitum
A tall fellow strolled on a beach abroad
Along a cream-like sandy shore unflawed,
He tripped on a small shell
And fell with a sharp yell,
Lying on the ground while all his teeth gnawed.
We call it adult humor
Dressed like late night intellect
But the joke is just a cheap dare
We clap like it’s profound
We claim it’s edgy commentary
Wrapped in clever phrasing
But it’s really playground bravado
Posing as sophistication
We say it’s mature wit
Served with craft beer confidence
But it’s just petty mischief
Wearing a grown up voice
We insist it’s highbrow comedy
Sold as cultural insight
But it’s thin skinned teasing
Masquerading as satire
We pretend we’ve evolved past childishness
Framing jokes as worldly wisdom
But the truth is embarrassingly simple
We never stopped laughing at the easy stuff
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