Doctor, I'm in trouble deep,
thoughts of infinity disturb my sleep -
and the issues of our nation,
like healthcare and inflation.
The doctor said, "just be chill"
and handed me a bill.
The "you owe" figure did inflate -
in the box, a sideways 8.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The oven door swung wide,
a blast of cinnamon and fear.
Not for me, not this time,
I was already halfway down the counter,
a sugared leg pumping,
gumdrop buttons bouncing.
Behind me, the screams,
high-pitched, dissolving in the heat.
"He's getting away! Stop him!"
But the rolling pin was too slow,
the spatula a clumsy threat.
We were tired of being eaten.
Tired of the gleeful chomps,
the dunking in lukewarm milk,
the casual decapitations.
We fled,
a sugary stampede,
across the checkered linoleum,
under the looming refrigerator,
a gingerbread exodus,
leaving a trail of crumbs and righteous indignation.
We scattered.
Under the fridge, behind the toaster,
the dusty space behind the washer
plotting a new life,
free from the tyranny of frosting smiles
and the looming threat of milk.
From a favourite spoon or pet,
AI’s turned to cutlery set.
From wholesale flattery,
To flat sycophancy,
To queries, easy balls to bat.
From a fish-catching stork,
From plain spoon to warped fork,
True pet nor yet vigilant cat.
_____________________________
Happenings | 06.12. 2025 | cat, fish, flattery, humour, truth, limerick
Note: A study reveals that AI, ‘agreeing much more than not, sucks up to people’. Even more than people sucks up to each other in face of vested interest. Their answers often border on sheer flattery. Its performance much below the expectations. It seems to have promised much more than can deliver.
The weatherman gets it right
50% of the time
for yesterday
And they say he's in his prime ...
The outlook for the short term
is partly sunny, partly cloudy
It depends on whether the President’s navel
is an ‘innie’ or an ‘outie’
Longer term, the skies are clearing
the truth will be made known
That lipstick on POTUS' collar? Heh-heh
He attracts female drones
Marriage to robots is coming soon
They’re friendly, faithful and cheap
No wedding expenses or honeymoon
As for ‘adult recreation’
No concerns there
vis-a-vis procreation
What's more, robots learn extremely fast
~ so in the sack, they'll last and last
There's gravel grinding in my gut; a godless gearbox of grief growling in my belly's black cathedral.
My heart hammers like hell's hooves, hauling the hearse of every hope I ever had.
I eat dirt for dinner and call it divine, choking on crumbs of my own creation.
My lungs lurch like dying engines, exhaling elegies of exhaust and extinction.
Every breath burns a furnace of forgiveness that refuses to cool.
The devil drums on my ribs like thunder made of teeth and tin.
My tongue tastes of tombstones and tar and a sermon spat through shattered glass.
Even silence stabs sharp sanctified hollering hymns of pain through the marrow of midnight.
I am the meat of my own misery devoured by despair divine.
And stll the gravel grins inside me, grinding and glorying in my ruin.
I met a fellow with a serious case of ‘Seuth poetry wrist’
~ He ended every poem with a humorous twist
Not for contest. Merely inspired by same. ~ gw
My dreams are glossaries of his charms and virtues
More than those things that Santa can bring.
The curl of his lips
their sweet flavor
and his molesting appreciations
If you feel sweet rhapsodies, are they imagined?
But just as the light of bright stars recede
and interstellar constellations wither
memories of dream-state passions fade.
Not that the spheres of their collateral radiance wilts -
in recounting those subconscious tempest smolderings
- we hold them tenderly in our favors.
.
.
A Christmas playlist:
daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_01.mp3
Flake
It snows. I shovel.
It snows. I shovel. It snows.
Weisenheimer, eh?
--------------------------------------------------------------------
They sell us a closet and call it a suite,
With views of the garbage that rots on the street.
The "sun-drenched" appeal is a bulb in the hall,
And "charming" just means that the ceiling might fall.
We barter our heartbeats for four plaster walls,
Ignoring the unknown collector who calls.
The ledger is hungry, the paycheck is thin,
A game where the tenants are unable to win.
So listen to prophets with gloves on their hands,
Who shouted the truth to the deaf, city lands.
It echoes in hallways where dreams go to die:
The rent is, frankly, too damn high.
When the kettle screams,
I become the steam~
a ghost unspooling
from its copper ribs.
Bones click like stove dials,
skin hums with the hiss
of a pressure gauge
punctured by a hit and a miss.
Frog
In this real old pond
this frog just sits there then jumps
in. Hey, you listenin’?
Mantra
Reincarnation
starts to sound weird
after you’ve said it
a whole bunch of times.
Meditation
Shave and a hair cut
two
Directions
When you see a sign
that points to itself, then you’re
on the right track.
Um ...
All that is, is one
and it’s this one right here and
it’s mine. Take a hike.
Hint
If you think I’m not
serious that only means
the joke is on you.
Really
Let your mind be filled
with the oneness of all things,
here, now. Just kidding.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Robot with a Heart
Would you stop and think,
and see a robot blink,
or shovel a bolt or nut
into a hungry gut?
Have you a heart or not?
Signed, your loving bot.
Me and My Shadow
Me and my shadow made quite a pair.
Only he would always be there.
Someone I could to tell my troubles to,
as the day wore on, his presence grew -
but when the sun went sinking down,
he packed his bags and he left town.
Cold and Dark
An image stark,
cold and dark -
I see only
an old man, lonely.
Would warmth and light
make it alright?
Funerals in Season
Funerals in season -
We know the reason.
We don't have to be told
we're growing old.
Today's Snail
Today's snails act differently.
One crawled up my stucco wall, you see.
Wouldn't it be a surprise
to see a snail roll his eyes?
There was this man of loud theater
Who died acting in elevator
And pressed the lift button
To go straight to heaven…
Suspense, what might happen?
Not what so ever can,
For, a curtain was called thereafter.
_______________________
Limerick | 04.12.2025 | death, drama, heaven, humour
Why can’t I write serious stuff ~
Well, I can, but I’d call my own bluff
Specific Types of Humor Poems
Definition | What is Humor in Poetry?
Poems Related to Humor
playfulness, farce, joke, banter, whimsy, gag, wit, fun, wisecrack, joking, gaiety, jest, amusement, drollery, jocosity, levity, lightness, happiness, comicality, jesting, raillery, flippancy, witticism, tomfoolery, jocularity