Short Nauseam Poems

Collective consciousness
Folded over into a square
Wrapped around a tree trunk
Etched with a scimitar
Another guidepost
To the morning star
Ad nauseam
Barba tenus sapientes
...

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My doctor loves the birds and bees
And anything that makes me sneeze
Perfumed employees my heart tease
And indoor plants cause me to wheeze

My doctor says a little breeze
Picks up pollen from the trees
Though it seems like some disease
Its only fatal by degrees

Now I'm down on bended knees
Overwhelmed by Ph.d.s
Who did all they could to please
My doctor's bill of soaring fees....

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I'm wide awake, listening to the roar.
My musings become a glowing rainbow.
I lie pique designing vile dreams offshore. 
I dream of an ominous sky shadow

Away from the ad nauseam skid row.
As political cases broach their peak.
To load airwaves with the rowdy prevail 
Irritating and feeble header seek 

While I slept, I grasped the heaven exhale
Moans were roundly rejected by the meek

Written: February 1st 2022...

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You see them perched in windows
Of so many types of stores
But really, they don’t blend at all
In anyone’s decors.

They range in size from tiny
To those taking lots of space,
All with the same expression – blank!
Imprinted on each face.

One waving paw moves up and down
Ad nauseam, to me,
I guess to greet the passersby
In perpetuity.

It blows my mind how such a fad
Gains traction and persists.
My hat goes off to every shop
With keeper who resists....

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Love poems, how trite they become.
Their hackneyed themes we want to scream.
We purposely shy away from
That genre, teeming so it seems
With grandiloquent, large supplies
Of conjured words with empty rings
Of cheating hearts and love that dies.
Ad nauseam is all it brings.
We wish just once that we could read
Where love’s expressed differently:
Brand new verses that supersede
Love’s banal themes in poetry.
Love-lost poems are sickening
But most of all they are boring....

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One fine day Abraham  
Wanted to send a candygram
All the way to Amsterdam
Sweets ad nauseam     
Weighed by kilogram
All he could cram
In a huge box stamped with a monogram

This is the price said Ma’am
What’s wrong need a diagram
Abraham was in a jam
Had no cash felt like a ham
Meeker than a lamb  
Thought he better scram 
Postpone the candygram

Bad credit is debit card’s anagram



AP:Honorable Mention 2020, Honorable Mention 2020

Submitted on March 3, 2018...

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the sloth yawns at time
inert, as listless minutes
turn wasted hours to years

work is left undone
avoided like a poison 
the very thought, repugnant 

the useless hand rules
in sluggish monotony
repeated “ad nauseam”

hear the weary sighs
a disinterest in ideas
thinking takes too much effort 

how dull the moments
how easy to lay around
drearily, suffocating

and so the sloth goes
through blank, barren idleness 
wallowing in stagnancy



Written on 10/23/2018...

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