Poems

My cock wants me to touch it

He's a one-eyed bird cheeping

alone in his small sad cage

My knob thinks all for himself

He's a one-eyed snake stalking

spunk for gratification

My love worm creeps secretly

He's a one-eyed slug leaching

lust for self-medication

My meat whistle begs stroking

He's a cyclops on steroids

monstrously making trouble

My skin sword must be conquered

He's a one-eyed Norse chief god

turning goodness against me

My dick wants me to feel it

He's a one-eyed jack lacking

love for his exquisite queen

I'm tired of it all

The jackbooted gall

The belfries of men

So unsmart and small

I'm tired of the game

The walks of sham shame

The unearned self-worth

Too lofty and lame

I'm tired of the lot

All piss and no pot

Delusive women

So hot on the trot

I'm tired of the ruse

The fakeness and schmooze

The cry offs and cants

Too short on the fuse

You make believe whatever you want

but that won't change any of the facts

the only reality 'tis in scientific truths

how a modern-day human should act

Only one more poem from the seer poet man,

as gospels of mystic science do show and tell

Catching scientific fact up to god 'tis my plan,

credulous progeny with others don't mix well

I mustn't forget I'm nearing my ends

undoubtably I'll soon find death year

Since I'm needing to be remembered

I'll render mystic science truths here

We scribble in so many words

Mementos on a minstrel's mind

Each coinage flying free as birds

Discharging droppings duly signed

We author categorically

Convictions in a rimester's root

Each sonnet metaphorically

Remaining for one last salute

We write down verses in the now

Reflections of the poet's past

Each musing like a timeless vow

Suspending vers libres half-mast

I pledge devotion

To the earth

Of the elongating big bang universe

And to provable fact

For which it dwells

One cosmos under truth

Undeniable, with critical

thinking for all

Modern-day poems will patch up the gaps

tween the sciences of 2000BC and 2000AD

human mysticism shall be allowed to stay,

every theology pre-Copernicus replastered

Make no mistake, listening well

I'm calling from beyond the veil!

I crossed over, still here I'm back

see me waving my rhyming cap?

So, if I'm gone yet still harp hello

I may too be an immortal fellow!

Querying now, from 'neath grave

did you write any poetries today?

We never hit the mother load

Of passion turned to treasure trove

Our fervor crushed like mother clove

In luring boyhood pots of gold

We never rode the gravy trains

Of fealty felt in me-too lanes

Our purpose gummed like blackstrap stains

In barren tracts of sugar canes

We found at last our field of dreams

The holy grail in island streams

Our life force bursting at the seams

In saving shafts of searchlight beams

I diddled I dawdled, I piddled I paddled

sit here now 'pon weak-minded saddle

I hemmed I hawed with a dipsy doodle

wasting the potential inside my noodle

We're doing it now, for it's never too late

To lift ourselves up, and to fondle our fate

We did what we did, and we made our own beds

With pure focused light in our poetic heads