at dawn, Chef Armadillo opens his sun-scorched café.
jalapeños jump on the counter like tiny green fireworks.
tortillas twirl as he flips them into sky-high desert specials.
coyotes queue up for his legendary inferno tacos.
Just another average day in the desert....
What happened to the funny man
that insecure comedian
O, not done, he carries on
transcendent verse, his latest con
Monkey wrenches are distressing.
Always, with my plans, they're messing.
In my life, I've come to realize,
they come in every shape and size;
but I don't mind - it's OK,
what will be my monkey wrench today?
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)
.
there furth'er
be
enstructionz
yo
Low-effort is the mission
Low-effort's a decision
Low-effort ambition
Low-effort nutrition
Low-effort corruption
Low-effort seductions
Low-effort deductions
Low-effort assassins
Low-effort passion
Low-effort fashion
Low-effort obesity
Low-effort poetry
Low-effort parents
Low-effort presents
Low-effort president
Low-effort arrogance
Low-effort adolescents
Low-effort embarrassment
Low-effort communication
Low-effort conversations
Low-effort imaginations
Low-effort motivations
Low-effort deterriation
Low-effort information
Low-effort physicians
Low-effort inhibitions
Low-effort politicians
Low-effort inspiration
Low-effort education
Low-effort vacation
Low-effort nation
Low-effort voting
Low-effort tech
Low-effort sex
Low-eff
low
.
.
A song for this:
Sexy to Someone by Clairo
act like you know (feat. Muni Long) [E]
It seems
At least to me
That…..they
Are always there
Hidden in those instants
Wherein I lose my focus
Drift into “un-thinking”
Move without my own consent
Call ‘em what you will
Imps, trolls, the Billy goats Gruff
A synaptic surfer
Washed ashore
Popcorn scattered on the beach
Pursued by satiations seagulls
An off-key note
Sabotaging a symphony
A keyboard cannibal
Consuming all thought
Hunting in the alphabetic jungle
Of scrambled words
I have cursed them and cajoled them
All to no avail
An effort less successful
Than a dog chasing its tail
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.
We here at the goat farm
will never do you any harm.
We just want a chance
to eat your shirt and pants.
The Mosquito Squad has been zapped, swatted,
And completely obliterated.
Because they learned the hard way
That they can dish it, but they sure can't take it.
They've planned numerous strategies
And tried every trick in the book;
But everything has backfired
And their goose was already cooked.
Every summer was the same mission:
Find a sexy body and eat it.
It didn't matter if it was a booty, an arm, or a leg:
Alas, the Mosquito Squad has been defeated.
"That's the last straw!" the Squad Leader yelled,
With steam coming out of his ears.
"You've failed me one too many times!
I don't want to see your crocodile tears!
You can't even follow a direct order
And always fall flat on the floor.
Now get out of my sight, you knuckleheads!
The Mosquito Squad is no more!"
The crowd began singing
As the mosquitoes disappear in the sky,
"NA NA NA NA, NA NA NA NA,
HEY HEY HEY! GOOD-BYE!"
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"
I didn’t feel like running today
Some days I don’t—but I do.
I’ve never finished a run thinking,“I’m sorry I did that.”
I always feel empowered, powerful and ready to deal.
I have blisters on two toes but that doesn’t matter.
Pain is an administrative problem—I just wrap them
with paper surgical tape and run.
I also buy these 1" Polyurethane foam sheets (from Amazon),
that I cut to fit my feet—stuffing them in my socks for padding
—as if I were a professional athlete.
We don’t flinch beneath the heat, cold or rain,
and we don’t prevaricate or complain.
While I believe that life, otherwise, is pretty much nonstop compromise,
I reserve a protected territory for self-respect—where I practice small acts
of discipline—which I can track.
.
.
Songs for this:
Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen
Somebody's Going to Get Into This House by Jane Wiedlin
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
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