Unamused Poems

Feline Confessions

I confess...
I'm a cat in 
a human body
surrounded by 
drooling
deluded dogs

I confess...
I spew doggerel
in a poetic
wasteland
as the wolves
claw their
verses
on electronic pages
and howl at
their unamused
muses

I confess...
I hide under a table
or
climb up a tree
as the dogs of war
merrily pant
while
mauling the world

I confess...
I'm guilty of living
in the wrong
country
on the wrong
planet
at the wrong
time 
but will 
soon exhaust
my nine lives
and then 
lapse into 
a permanent 
catnap

The seaburg 1984

The many quarters dropped 
in the jukebox as you ran 
in and out answering calls 
demanding pushing cursing 
out staff as I sat there pink
dress ain’t no body by Chaka 
Khan if this world was mine 
by Cheryl Lynn I still want my 
refund wasting so many 
quarters how dare you 
the record spins then skips 
it’s gonna take a miracle to 
make me love someone new 
who are you such and empty 
bastard catering to empty 
pockets mafia Frank put a 
quarter in the jukebox ain’t 
nobody you know this an yet 
you bring important people to 
play our song why what’s 
the matter with you tell 
your people I won’t be 
controlled unless there is 
smudge proof writing silk 
sheets creating masterpieces 
of new lyrics even then watch 
yourself mister crescendo refrain 
sing what’s love got to do with 
it unexpressed unamused by 
corruption besides you hear that 
up tempo my favorite is still playing

Mafia madness Novel

The Dangling Decameron

Some kind of Boccaccio 
they open The Book, 
borrowing thoughts 
and stories from muses,
for it is a tome 
in its entirety,

each muse, a Page, unamused,
to be plucked from tomb,
those sepia petals thrown up in the air, 
unravel, the yarns like confetti, 
land at the feet 
of others 

weeds and rows of perennials,
who bend like willows
backwards, they watch 
unhooded falcons soar up 
against the sky, 
all shades of colour 

the ever-moving clouds
like music, divine,
pull them up as if on strings
threaded through needlepoint 
of a sharper mind, 
they are carried away, drugged, 

making wishes, like dandelions

blowing each the other, 
they become - more - storks,
each a story, undone,
sewn and seeded 
for the larger Ovid
in exchange for kinder souls

they dangle, each and every one 

their spines entitled, 
The Decameron
opened up, 
lives fluttering,
they are read
as the in-betweens 

some Prencipe Galeotto
engaged with Dante’s trust


Candide Diderot. ‘24 





Page
stork, stalk
the Decameron
Prencipe Galeotto
Dante
Ovid

The Schock Od An Outsider

New Yorkers, in general, are very notorious 
for walking way too fast, not moderately:
it's seen as an unpleasant remark;
tourists keep thinking to themselves,
" They're funny! " It's a stereotype they mock,
" Do New Yorkers ever rush to Central Park? "

An outsider asked a stern policeman,
" Why is everybody running? "
" Is the  President coming? "
And the cop stared at him saying,
" You are an outsider, not so lean,
catch up to the marathon race:
they are rushing for the train:
they are going to their working place! " 
And the shocked red-neck with a freckled, 
peachy, round face grinningly replied,
" I never knew they raced like wild horses
to catch a train; we Southerners take our time,
and stress less, we play songs in our guitars
and drink lots of whiskey, we never walk a mile! "

How could the unamused officer take offence and contain his disdain...
when the naive dude offended every New Yorker? 
His reply was a shock to the poor guy on naproxen,
" Run like them before I throw you in jail, or take the Southern Border! " 

 Note: No pun is intended, it's only to spike up some humor!

Happy as a Flower

Open the door and you will see,
A protruding rose as youthful as can be.
By the tree; the evergreen tree,
Masked in all its glory.
Fresh and beautiful it sits poised,
Various array there is to see.
Its plume is beckoning and welcoming you.
To the tree! The evergreen tree!
Everyone walks past them,
Bustling about as the rose stares.
It stares at us; fragrant and free.
By the tree; the evergreen tree,
It doesn’t flee, gripping tightly.
Rooted down, it’s stagnant.
It’s true, the birds say as they flew 
And the rose sits unamused.
It is not as fleeting as us,
It remains deep rooted and undisputed!

Unamused

Tabula Rasa?
    Locke to thank
I’ve come across a
    page that’s blank...

Lets Go Mad Today

Let us go chase some tail I say
So we all run into the yard
Screeching our truth 
Squirrels scatter

Now what? Trixie, my prissy muse asks.
Unamused by me; rather haughtily indignant
This is all you got?
Let’s not go to a store I suggest.

We play some music and dance our truth
Kickboxing our way through a living room of zombies
Who used to be relatives
But all died of same-oh, same oh.

The skeletons nod at us, their teeth chattering
Neighbor phones to ask us to put the music down.
A human voice! We are excited.

Pandemic zero today, us six as we begin roller skating in the house
After eating peanut butter pancakes and throwing water balloons out the window
Hitting no one as no one is here anymore

Let’s go mad, today Trixie suggests.
Too late
We are already there.

A Chowder of Cats

A Chowder Of Cats

There's a chowder of cats on the corner
an exultation of larks in the sky
a troop of monkeys high in the trees
where the rhino's doth daily crash by

A pack of dogs patrolling the lane-way
a herd of cows at rest in the byre
a bellow of bullfinches grasping hawthorn
A mischief of mice staying warm by the fire

A parliament of owls swoop over golden corn
where an army of caterpillars stay low
a flock of sheep look down from the hills high above
a congregation of alligators sleeping in a row

A pandemonium of parrots rudely laughing
an unkindness of ravens unamused
a drove of bullocks seriously unimpressed
a bloat of hippopotami singing twelve-bar blues

I See the World Upside Down

I see a flame burning in a river
I see a rainbow twinkling in the sky
I see the moon throwing moonly radiations
I see a fish, rather at the high.

Yes, I see the world upside down!

I sleep at noon, I wake at night
I sleep by sitting, I sit by lying
I sleep with my almirah serving as my bed
I sleep only in the daylight’s shed.

Yes, I see the world upside down!

I befriend the lizard
I detest rabbit
I blow up my chair
And the water I’d kick

Yes, I see the world upside down!

I know you from the bottom
Unamused by your ‘out’
I know what you think
Ignoring up your shout.

Yes, I see the world upside down!

I could see anything, what you hides
I could sense the truth behind your ‘pleasant’
I could see you fooling, hiding your smiles
Beware of me whenever I am present.

‘Coz, I see the world upside down!!!

Five Little Souls

Five Little Souls 
	
In this house
even the bathroom’s
a place of no peace.

I huddle there Sundays
enthroned with whatever
they’ve left of the paper.

Off the door, the great blitz:
rubber balls, little fists, 
soles of bare feet.

Unamused, still perusing,
I sit there refusing
to vacate my sanctum.

Blitz your bare feet! 


Donal Mahoney

A Day In the Woods

Rays of sunlight gather to shine through the tree's to dry the morning dew.
Nature awakens with the chatter of red squirrels, leaping from branch to branch.
A spotted fawn on shakey legs looks to it's mother to greet this day with a new sense of 
security.
Sitting on the high ridge watching the world come alive, sitting, watching, and waiting.
A whisper of wind brings me the smells of the forest always gratefullly accepted.
The robins chirp, and morning doves coo to greet me as I descend the ridge for water from 
a creek.
The hare darts from left to right for escape as I wipe the moisture from the creek from my 
lips.
The moisture cool like that of a forgotten kiss once held deep within.
The owl looks down towards me from it's treestand unamused with it's new company.
The fox dashes and jumps in it's quest for field mice for it's morning breakfast.
For me it's to ascend another hill, to another ridge for some sitting, watching, and waiting.
The morning will come with another thirst forcing me to descend to another creek, for 
another drink, to wipe moisture from my lips.
With that the memories of the forgotten kiss waiting to be once again held deep within.

Virgin Paper Ii

Spreading whiteness before my eeys
waiting for letters,
letters making words
making syllabic riffs.

Empty page reflects blankness
of a mind's vocation:
No Thinking Allowed ...
to no purpose.  Its time to trade
this page for prose.

Unamused muse empty now
in an 8 x 11 world
of stark, bright wood pulp
pressed flat as my brain.

My Life Song As a Teenager

Im sitting and falling
Im dancing and crawling
im upside down right side up
im parched with a full cup

im perfectly confused
happily unamused
I enoy the sunny night
as i curse the dark light

To you my words appear wrong 
but what you do not know is this my life's song

Flat Spare Tire

spare forgotten, now flat, abused,

                  like some veteran overused

                   in at least two world wars

       whose alleged treads are darkened scars,

            burnt, rubbed off rubber, unamused,

        frayed steel threads, no, I'm not excused.

Uncle Russ

Uncle Russ, never made much a fuss,
he was just kinda sorta rambunctious.
The whole whetsell bunch, when in a crunch
bent the rules without much compunction.

The cops, unamused, and very short-fused,
in Detroit they did ruff up my dad.
But that’s not so bad, when Russ they did grab
in Chicago and pounded him dead.

Now, none of this mess, you ever would guess,
had to do with those two I detailed.
But was my uncle Melf, a felon himself
so illusive, he never was jailed.

Snappy dressers, but never confessors,
dad and Russ remained so tight-lipped
Melf split so fast, the cops were aghast.	
that they never knew when he skipped.

FBI with binocs, surrounded the block
at granny’s memorial service,
hoping that Melf, might show up himself
to pay some respects, although nervous.

Melf vaporized, the cops realized,
and they stopped accosting the clan.
Too late for Russ, since all of this fuss
cost him literally all that he had.

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