License Poems

The Electrician Without A License

There’s an  
Energy tag on my big toe 
“Zapped to death:” it says 
I’m a “John Doe” 
A lightening bolt 
Sent my soul a jolt 
Into the next dimension 
Permanently disabled and 
Unable to be grounded, you see 
Living life on the edge can be fatal 
I don’t even know who I am 
I think I’m fried forever
But I can tale you this 
I still have destiny's will
I’ve felt the power of the gods 
I’m all charged up; that was some vitamin pill
Electricity is 1 + 1 = 1 
Electricity is one by one to freedom 
I feel it deeply in my bones 
In the gap in between gods’ ganglia
Perhaps, I do got stinky bits for brains 
I’m letting go now 
Finally, slipping into oblivion 
I finally remember 
Yes, I remember 
                  who I am.

The Poetic License Bureau

Poetry is an art. 
The possibilities are endless... 
With everything seemingly possible 
Including style, form and space. 
Requires inspiration, little education but it helps 
Intense imagination, a vast vocabulary 
Loose interpretation, creativity 
Private investigating, entertainment value 
And massive amounts of attention and admiration. 

Please feel free 
To stop by my office 
To obtain your official license. 

Special Agent, 

ARt MEdDler

ISIS Threats on license plates

You are indeed sad ISIS American terrorist sending threats on license plates to promote your intimidation and fear Jhore JIHAD jay Townsend Johnson Henry truly sad your ISIS can never ever impersonate me sadly your isis identity fraud abuse of power exist in America as I expressed before after severe identity fraud upon my family by persons of power obsessed with my American poetry I know my only peace is to end my own life to be truly rid of your TERRORIST THREATS ON LICENSE PLATES until the next time you slam into a crowd for now I will enjoy Fredrick douglas book of letters to his slave master I will never fear domestic American isis working for gargano crews fraudulent product liability claims at Ford motor company defective airbag bombs you twisted scum

Poet Licentious

.
       “
     Do
    You
   Know
  Phrase
 POETIC
 LICENSE
 Now that
 I’ve used
 So much
 They call
   Me . A
     Poet
 Licentious.

The Man

In shackles, the angler stands accused,
His reel now silenced, dreams diffused.
Caught by the law, his freedom at stake,
No fish to take home, just fines to be paid.
An unlicensed cast, is the price he pays.

The Fates of Plates

Two fresh plates to adorn my humble chariot.

The one on top had the honor of being mounted at the front,
as my customary parking pattern
is to back into a space on the far side of the garage.

But soft ... was it an honor?

To be figurehead, first to see, noble vanguard,
and yet,
bombarded for countless hours by suicidal bugs,
dust, gravel, and mud.

The rear plate will soon be far cleaner, 
and has the quiet, reflective view of what has passed.
Though it might wish for the electric thrill
of seeing things first.

I wonder which the plate on top would prefer,
if it had more claim than its fellow below.

But fate granted me judicial clarity.
Top is front; bottom is back.
Different fates - each with their own charm.

Grow not envious, o plates.
Your positions both have great beauty.

18 November 2022

Poetic License

Politically correct doesn't always answer the desire of my heart.  So I must  
Open my mind and draw words and phrases that stir and erupt from the 
Elective place of my very soul.  I have heard a poet apologize for using a 
Telltale word such as crap.  I told her don't be sorry for using accolades that  
Illuminate your angered emotions and rightful indignation.  A writer needs to  
Captivate his or her audience with compositions of natural vocabulary 

Litigate, dispute and question the issue, for every word has its puzzle place 
In the wonderful world of writers.  Sometimes a poem can be wordy and   
Caressing, other times it can be short blunt and to the point. Who can  
Elect or disperse poetic licenses to the mass, nobody...  We are,  
No ones boss or slave, we are poets with a free will and a lovers heart. 
Salute the other poets and say what you need to say with eccentricity 
Endeavor to communicate, for you are licensed by desire, not law. 

December 1, 2021 
Mystic Rose

Poetry Police License Registration Warrant Slam

Sir,

Hands off that Pen

Can i see your Poetry

License and Registration please

Sorry we have had several complaints

From both critics and reader's

That your Poem's aren't up to scratch

And i tend to agree with them

So unless you want me to come
back with a warrant

Put a lid on it

Find yourself another hobby

One that doesn't involve word's
and thoughts

Otherwise you will have your day
in court

For crimes against Literature

And the Prosecution has a list of
witnesses as long as your arm

Willing to testify your word's do
far more harm than good

Your Pen is an offensive Weapon

Sharper than Sword and Stones

Poetic License

My muse
      is on a cruise

Poetic License I Take

Poetry is fun
Every day words are my friends
Poetic license I take

Easy Poetry
Dances in my head today
Greatly amusing my muse

Ideas arrive
Rhymes come swiftly to my brain
Parading and dancing their truth

My Terrific Drivers License Station

I open the door to the drivers’ license office confident there will be no line
There are 14 people ahead of me, and it opened three minutes ago.
The last person has plenty of space to move up but does not, 
so I have to make a new line.
I lose hope I will be at work by ten, as I had promised
A man at a reception desk checks all the paperwork 
before you go to the real window.

My husband had been threatened with bodily damage 
if I did not have everything I needed.
He had made me a packet that apparently had 
six extra things I did not need.
Eight people were sent away for not having the right stuff. 
This made me number six in line.

I arrive at work at 8:45. 
Everyone asks me if I had forgotten to get my license.
No one expected me so early. 

“My driver’s license office is a well-oiled machine,” I told them.
I am probably giving them vast amounts of praise 
also since I did not do great on the eye test.
"3,3,8,4,9,5,2,9?" I guessed.
“No, that’s not it. The three is wrong.” 
"3,8,8,4,9,5,2,9?"
“No.” 
On the third try I got it right. 
"Passed!” she said, 
surprising me greatly as I apparently cannot see at all.

Shaking Like a Hummingbird

I was sixteen and a half when my Uncle Bill came
To visit
From Arizona

He was shocked I did not have my license.
She has no car, my mother said.
Why does she need one?

My sentiments exactly.
But Uncle Bill dragged me to the
License bureau anyway.

He made me drive with them.
I was a shaking like a hummingbird.
Hoping not to pass.

I wanted to drive his car home.
It was a gorgeous convertible.
I had already driven it all around the square right?

Now he was the one shaking like a hummingbird.
I kept pretending I was going to run into something.
Loving the powerful feeling.

Driving.
Nothing like it!

Sixteen and Ready To Drive

Sixteen is jumping around on the kitchen tile,
practically breaking it with her boots.
Yelling with happiness.
Apparently some idiot let her pass the
driving part of her driver’s test.

I was not expecting that to happen, this was
the first try. What is wrong with these people?
I am in shock, watching her stomp around like
the 4-year-old child she uses for this kind of occasion.

Sorry Honey, I say. The car is dead. Battery has to be replaced.
She gives me a stern look, and she is still smiling.
We have lost the keys, I say. Both sets.
A jingling noise flies through the air.

She catches her dad’s keys on the fly.
“THANKS DADDY!”  She is out the door after
giving her hero a big hug. I hear her stomping away.

Life as we knew it before this day is decidedly over.
And I am not talking about just
my husband’s.

Poetic License

A poet in search of his muse
Tried to find her by choosing to booze;
Far from what he desired
The poor fellow expired--
So be careful which boozing you choose!

(August 20, 2018)

Poetic License Cancelled

So, what would you have me write?
Dulcet words of limply lurid metaphor
stuttering staccato of acceptable alliteration
preposterously impersonal personification
drab and dreary diluted imagery
innocently innocuous innuendo
insouciantly inane sonnets
neutered non-rapier wit
squishy, soft white bread limericks
fettered faint hearted free verse
sanctimoniously soft spoken rants
devoid of do’s and don’ts, can’s and can’ts


all to fit in a box
with invisible locks 
displayed on a Common
of “creative” stocks


John G. Lawless
©6/30/2018

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