Long Ridiculous Poems
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It is becoming obvious
that I need to take a vacation -
from myself.
I have become too serious, too earnest,
and not ridiculous enough.
The world will keep turning
when I am dead, surely that is a truly happy thought.
I should not want to be a burden to anyone;
ask any autumn leaf.
Atlas needs a break, maybe a trip to a spa,
or too an Olympic size swimming pool
an empty one with no water in it,
there I would be happy to be a fish out of water
to swim in all that happiness
and if the world climbed onto my back again,
I would shake it off me,
for the world is just water
and far too heavy to be carried around.
I most probably need to blow my nose hard
to see if my brains fall out;
now that would be a happy moment!
“They’ll be corndogs,” Grandma muttered.
We cousins laughed, having never heard of these relatives before today.
“Corndog company,” Aunt Mina agreed. “They were ridiculous last time.”
Last time was twenty-four years ago.
“They are goofy, mongrels,” Grandpa whispered. But he winked.
“Crazier even than your Arizona cousins,” he told Grandma.
But he was smiling, as if the corndogs were comedians or entertainers.
I loved them before they arrived.
If nothing else, they would spice up Grandma’s annual reunion.
We would watch for any oddity or nuance, reporting it in detail.
Bringing new stories of their strangeness to the other reunions.
I would rather have all my teeth pulled out by a mad gorilla
From the psychiatric ward of a jail house in Manilla,
With a pair of dirty dingy pliers, and manure and more,
Than have to walk on Black Friday into any store’s entrance door.
Rather have my wisdom teeth pulled by this deranged gorilla head,
Without benefit of Novocain in a dirty cow-birthing shed,
Nothing neat, nothing sterile, or the least bit clean along the way,
Than have to go kicking and screaming into a store on Black Friday.
So if you think you are going to call me at two in the a.m.
And try to get me to the store, I am simply not one of them.
And if you call me at the ridiculous morning hour of two,
I will send this head-case gorilla to pull some teeth out of you.
An idiot driver cut in front of me on the freeway
Just because they did not get the big picture
I have to slam on my brakes?
Could I let it slide?
Apparently not.
I threw my hands up like “what the heck?”
She gave me the bird.
I gave her one back.
She gave me two birds.
Who was driving there?
I chased her down the freeway,
We are both honking now, acting six-years-old.
She is driving so fast it is utterly ridiculous.
I can barely keep up with her.
Luckily I am driving my husband’s Mercury.
You can go one hundred in it, and it feels like fifty.
I was horrified when we both turned off at the same ramp.
Slunk back a bit when we again headed the same direction.
Was shocked when her turn signal showed me the parking lot I wanted.
We both ended up in front of the same restaurant, and it was not open yet.
“That was FUN!” she shrieked at me.
“Did you know it was ME?” she asked.
I gave her a big hug. My best friend, Susan, had apparently gotten a new car.
“Of course!” I lied.
She was put into my arms
Much smaller than I ever imagined
Is this the color they are?
Her eyes are shut
She looks like a baby bunny
I am almost afraid to touch her
She is wrapped up in a blanket
Wearing a tiny hat
on her tiny head
I have never felt so joyful
I knew I would be excited
But this is ridiculous
An emotion of joy I have never felt
I stare at her
Her life is in my hands
I am her mommy
I grin thinking about that
She is my live doll
We have already agreed on the name Angela
I hope I do not have to fight for it now
I am content; she is here, finally.
A girl. I had always thought boy.
A girl is great, fine, wonderful.
Angela Jo – we had already decided on his name as the middle.
I am sitting up, not wanting to share her when he comes in.
More loving begins.
I stare at the woman in the bed.
She is much smaller than she has ever been.
Is this what cancer does to your mother?
Her legs are sticks.
She kicks the blankets off, and I see she wears a diaper.
A diaper on my mother!
This is the weirdest thing.
I take her tiny hand and try to talk to her.
She is gargling and her teeth are distorted.
She is making no sense.
I sit with her for forty-two of the longest minutes of my life.
She is no longer my mother.
Cancer has changed her.
She is gray and tiny, thin.
She is not communicating.
She is gurgling and kicking.
She is thrashing and makes no sense.
I have stopped talking to her.
I am now praying for the end.
I want Jesus to come and get her.
God hears my prayers and comes for her.
It is a relief; for her and for me.
Worst day of my life.
Three days later Angela Jo gives the eulogy
Best funeral I have ever attended.
Circle of Joy
Everybody has a locker
It's where we go, it's who we are
A number and a place
Our expertise awaits us there
And with it, our destiny
We find it or it finds us
Mohammed Ali had his eye on a locker with a championship belt inside
That was someone else's locker
And people said he didn't know his place
The critics were silenced when he wrapped his hands and put on gloves
Albert Einstein kept an odd locker
Haphazard notes. Ridiculous theories
The mathematical equivalent of a schizophrenic rant
Nobody knew this "lunatic" was rewriting science
He changed the world
There's an old locker in France that holds the sign of a warrior
Battered armor and a well used blade
It speaks of a hero
This locker held the allegiance of a nation and the respect of kings
It now holds the ashes of a fierce fighter who's footprint dented Europe forever
She was a teenage peasant named Joan of Arc
Everybody has a locker
We find it or it finds us
We can either hang our coats
Or walk on
By Kyle Ezra Kriticos
God sometimes we do crazy things
And we don’t understand why we do it
Why do we do that?
Why do we suddenly become nonsensical
And act so incredibly ridiculous?
Is it hormone?
Is it vanity?
Is it just to see
What we are capable of?
Whatever it is
I know that you probably wouldn’t approve
But it’s okay
I am not seeking for approval
Should I be?
Should I always seek your approval?
That is not the way I want to live God
It is too restricting
I feel like I can’t move
Is your road that narrow?
Why do we always have to obey You
Your laws
And your peace?
Well I did have peace God
But why did You want me to do that crazy thing?
Oh well it does not matter
I am not going to sit here and dwell on it
You can do whatever
And I do whatever
But I will follow your peace
There -
Are you happy?
Nobody likes to be studied too closely,
under the microscope we all display
a ridiculous, multicellular idiocy.
What gives us away
is how we squirm as the light seeks us out,
or scurry behind any rock-like molecule
to fearfully disguise
being caught by surprise.
Unlike the noble monkey and ape,
who know not the concept of foolishness,
they do not shy away
from any prying eye - are not ashamed
to be what they are.
We, the unchallenged and unhinged,
avoid at all costs to be studied
even by the flea or ant.
Look up humanity, look to the sky
there are beings up there,
their ships are spyglasses,
their point of view is to study you,
and when they figure us out
they will magnify our intellect,
examine it close
until it gets large enough
to be squashed.
Pancake Gorilla Onion
It is obvious, the connection
Pancake, gorilla, onion
Walking down the street of all conclusions
Closed in on all sides by saffron meadows
On all fours if you like
Reached before the end
Hidden below the surface
All words emerge sooner or later
What's next on the agenda
Do you expect us to believe
Troglodyte, ash tray, light bulb
Don't say I didn't warn you
Is ash tray even a word
Bless me with the metal aspergillum
Holly water thirsty first
How ridiculous that sounds
Pancake gorilla onion
Will have the final word
*Authors note: aspergillum is a real word. You have to dig a little bit to find it. It is a religious metal device or object used to sprinkle holy water at religious ceremonies.
Soon after nibbling pumpkin pie,
I felt terribly amiss,
where death be not proud
did scythe lance me
never came to bring
bliss, well nigh,
thus hour writhing with torturous pain
awoke wish to lie with permanent rigor
mortis supine without an intestate
for meager pose Hessions this guy
attests, which scarce material goods,
one would immediately espy
little stock dis
due dill ling dad doth not deign
deliberately displaying no deny
ill asper being non
materialistic, not wanting aye asseverate
next of kin burden
some task to decry.
As per thee above mentioned
immediate grippe of jabbing
abdominal agony did not wane
for extended period of time,
which sudden devout
praying Holy Scott twas in vane
where that this ordinarily
spry body of mine
sought zilch ambition
tubby vaunted or urbane,
but these lovely bag of bones
felt fragile as if
one to many fruit loops taken
on Ozzy Osborne's ): crazy train
plagued with waves
of gastrointestinal agony
i.e. severe cramps dizziness
nauseousness, and re
pulsed with aversion
to air, don, or trumpet
a swan song, sans of this aged jilted
(once shy twice burned)
once besotted handsome swain
hobbled thus unable to ride
my high horse weathering a bodily reign
of terror reducing me to hash out,
this ridiculous juvenile refrain.