Poems

I challenge you to a poem battle,

now saddle up and slay me.

Inspired thoughts turned into verses,

glimpse the mightiness within thee.

What will sure become us,

soil and dust maintained?

"And why is that a question?"

quoth Shakespeare in refrain.

If brains are of the matter

then of mass I truly sing

let every diseased feather

play a joyful, cosmic thing!

I am the fire, the light energy and bright matter.

I am a spark, a burning ember of temporary flame. 

That sun hath spat this Earth, and this Earth hath spat me, and I am these fifteen seconds of hot sex in those billions of years now gone ablaze.

I am crackling carbon, dimming, ashen dust.

Nothing less is in me, nothing more around or about me.

My reflection is smoke and mirror.

I'm the non-knowing pile of hot, then cooled to cinder rock.  

Another mighty Oak, with a freshly blessed babe

joyously intended as the best of miracles made

Yes the newborn boy has her, and she's got him

now let the annual ring's of a lifetime begin!

The materials of a truck come from the Earth

same as those built inside each human birth

An electronic brain, in the truck's engine makes it go

and gunky are the minds of men's souped-up egos!

Soap box professor on the corner of

Harmony Court and St. Jude Avenue

emoting truthful realities of a good book

Yea, the highest of Homo-sapient virtues

the very best of all human characteristics

preached from Freud's Psychology of Love

Bubba Cunt, the dear, sweet child 

of Forrest Gump and Buford Blue

became a cocksucker down New Orleans way

in a shitty whorehouse run by your ugly mama

All human pain pours like a heavy Tuscan rain

upon rooves of red, bleached-white, barrel clay tile

gushing fretfully over blocked gutters and rusty spouts 

as the suffering tears of a thousand good listeners

I weep as I watch the happy endings of sad movies

just like my mom when we attended them together

I remember well her heartbreaking, quivering faces

all those triumphant emotions, a collage of feelings

welled into glorious, Blue Marbled, crystalline tears 

at the bottom of her sweet Northern European eyes

I also sob seeing the ecstasy of pure strangers' faith

parent plus siblings witnessing the glowing fruition

of their beloved one's singing competition dreaming

proud wetness dripping from each enamored peeper

as if coming from the apex throne of human rapture

then gloriously lifting to heights of tripled rainbows

If we're so special as a species

indeed, have more in common

with Godlike images than any

a one-celled amoebic lifeform

Then how can ants crawl into 

our snoots the same way they

creep dead cats and great ape

just doesn't make sense to me

The ego conks out with its host

And roams a lonely, limpid ghost

Steer clear the narcissistic boast

By honing munificence the most