I once ordered my pencil
“Write me a poem”
My eraser is missing
And I’m all alone
The pencils were kept
in a box made of leather
a major step up
from the days of the feather
then came the ink pen
with blotters and blobs
pocket protectors
for multi-pen snobs
next was the ball point
so smooth and so slick
to calm school day angst
with their click-click-click-click
now it would seem
we have no time to waste
no need to write it
just quick cut and paste
we can now write a treatise
while resting in bed
alerting AI
to steal from the dead
and if it reads badly
somehow sadly insipid
our main line of defense
AI stole it from ibid
Categories:
ibid, fun, humor, writing,
Form: Rhyme
Would you waste it all for a public intoxication?
All meaning the rest of your lonely night writing bullsh*t into a journal
I'm sure you all know that question was rhetorical
Public indecency is instilled into our innate cirriculum that can't be unlearned
Brilliantly ibid
Socialites anti-social distancing casted on the back wall like a flower hanging in the shade
Catching the anarchist rays that break through the blades of a withered hasta
That spew a fragrance of vomit and jager bombs like a sh*t bar does so well
Only to burn your shadow like your tongue on your last shot of cheap whiskey before the boys in blue ended your night early
Categories:
ibid, 1st grade, addiction,
Form: Free verse
night swallows night under the
singing catacombs of unwashed sheets and passing trucks.
there never is a short conversation with the
lonely who tell there tales of how they have
everything except someone to love them.
there is a message in shoelaces,those that
are always untied
or
how doors are louder when they are closed.
they tell me others died so I could live,but I see
the open window and the line behind it
waiting for exodus.
I fight for a spot underneath the belly
of parked cars.....
as morning approaches my mouth explodes with a truth
that is too heavy to carry.
Categories:
ibid, angst
Form: Free verse
What we are sailing into was predetermined.
It is not our fault.
We are stupid and alien to this mat we call earth.
Not very long ago.... there were creatures, feeling normal, having 4 legs
We are an alien race; deposited here by chance and time.
We are temporary and soon forgotten
With
All
Of
Our toys
Beliefs
And
Production
Rotting
Into
The
Next
Archeological
Dig
Categories:
ibid, allegory
Form: Heroic Couplet