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Best Poems Written by Gary Thomas

Below are the all-time best Gary Thomas poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Little Alliteration

A little alliteration by a long shot speaks so loud.
Metaphors muddle my mind
And silly similes stymie the sentence.
A terrible trope takes too much of my time
g Tiberius is my tag and title
My nom de plume is a personal platitude personified
Better *****es badger me with their bared bosoms
A curious cacophony controls my cochlea
Demanding drugs and daffodils
Eventually ephemeral earth will evince my effervescence
Freakin' phantom fear will  appear
Had enough, Harry?
Or do you just ejaculate jocularity?
O K - I'll specially spare you the shroud of St. Sebastien 
And  say Adios, amigo; ta ta to you, see ya, Zebra; good-by, sweety-pie
So long saintly Samuel, take care, Virginia Dare
And that's the way it is, my miz
Amen and au-revoire.

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Sleeping At the Foot of the Bed

Eider down comfort comfortably comforting 
Distant imperceptible traumas unimaginable. 
Feather pillow softly laid my head 
As under a Mother Hen's wing 
Unperturbable 
But cold wood floors shock my soulless sole 
From the foot of the bed. 
Unconsolable.

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Comedy

I expect to find something funny in dying.
The bed unkempt like my hair
The room musty as my odor
The air moist
Unlike the dry rasp of my barely audible voice
My breathing labored as the crawling of the Sun
And in the eve the moon fullest at the last
And I will laugh with the man-in-the-moon
At the whatever-after.

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Rap Against Racism

It's all good like they say in the hood
And we will overcome if we don't play dumb
Lookin' to extend the dream of equality
Hopin' for a life with a little  frivolity.

We gotta' hold the mothers to their promise of beneficence
And not keep claiming this lie of innocence
Bleedin' heart libral thinks he done sump'n philanthropic
While he knows in his gut he, too, has been so sadistic.

Guilt has but a fleeting recognition
And pity don't pay for slavery's abolition.

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A Duck's Dilemma

Sometimes I feel like a duck out of water,
The greener grass is the water when I fly
And the water when I am natant.

My feathers equally ambivalent
My brain benevolently beset
The curious quandary belied by the placidity of this
Mirror in which I repose and reflect.

Mywondrous will so disposed to inertia
That I am quite averse to aviation
But the mere kinesis of flight
Prods my psyche to that profound euphoria.

And then looms that not-so-ugly duckling
To whom I am devilishly drawn.
What manner of urgency beckons me?
What end do I seek?
Why is this predisposition so prevalent?
Who is that pricks my pique and piques my prick?
When will I no longer feel such, such, such ... love?
And where is that Nirvana?
I feel like the centipede that forgot how to run.

Is there no outcome to this conundrum?
No resolution to this pregnant poser?
Too many options spoil my perspective
And I cannot compute the consequences.
To seek is not to have lost.
To seek is the eternal evidence of Life
As life is evidence of the eternal.

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Surgery

Such an invasion will not go unavenged-

I will render my prostate prostrate

Lest my humor become unhinged

It so betrays my desire to micturate, yea even to conjugate.

 

And I will radiate radiation

When approached I will shout Unclean! Unclean!

I will need some serious anesthesiation

Just to maintain my unvented spleen.

 

I always think I am so hansom

I quite assume my royal entitlement

But a colony of cutthroats now inhabit my rectum.

And I must engage in violent embattlement.

 

To the walls! To the walls! my spermatazoan comrades

And destroy these interlopers awful.

Let them not breach our ballustrades

For Nature herself has proclaimed them unlawful.

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Moon of the Sea of Debussy

Oh I do so love Debussy

     And his mystical tides of the sea

     And I swoon with the moon

     At the sweet Clair de Lune 

     As its melody so gently sweeps over me.

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The Shadow Knows Too

Sparring with demons, and dragons and deadheads
It bobs and weaves like a drunken sailor.
Omnipresent, omnipotent and omniscient
I'm quite attached to it - joined at the psyche.

Image of an incubus twirling as I do.
Patron Saint of agony, I curse it
And relegate it to a 2nd-class personage.
Out, damn spot, out - and take the blood with you.

When I am naked, it is clad (no projection),
No libido, no tumescence, no consummation.
How's that for a declension?
When it ascends, I float in the ether.

This hermaphrodite queen is superior 
To all mono-sexual beings
And since I am bound and bounded
It supplies the rope, the pins and the Worchestshire Sauce

Third person singular with plural overtones.
No objection for this object of my affectation.
Alas, the narcissus cannot not spin like lilies,
But only vegetate with the legumes.

The coda, finale, epilog await
Looming like a sarcophagus awaiting its occupant
And alcohol cannot still the tooth
That nibbles at its soul.

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Epitaph

Here lies a besotted chorister, too soon

          Out of grog and out of tune.

          A basso nicht-so profundo is ne'er forgot

          Whether he die by clinker or by pot.

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Lemon-Rick

There once was a lady sublime
Who complained for sex had no time.
Considering my bent, she was not heaven-sent.
And her name has no place in this rhyme.