Poems

Go fuck yourself sung to to the tune of O Christmas Tree

I don't give a rat's ass sung to I'll Be Home For Christmas

I'm rubbing one out sung to Hit The Road Jack

Lying whore sung to the tune of Yesterday

Fucking Hilarious sung to Unforgettable

The low side of my depression is dreadful

like I've been bludgeoned center forehead

with a wickedly medieval, steel spike club

a sharp, pointy nail impaling my forebrain

momentarily not gone but in death's coma

eyes wide flashing terrified astonishments

at the sight of my passage through the veil

What's the secret to writing poetry?

a one and a two the time and breath

then strike emotional authenticities

yes a feeling literally needs to be felt

passion plays; joy, surprise, curiosity

but honestly I find the ughs in angst

and torment effectively read the best

When I throw Omie, a blue-ribbon Hereford bull

one-quarter stack of fresh cut, golden baled hay

his cow cock begins dripping a wet, slimy stream

When I'm munching mango o'er the kitchen sink

hunched over as if in a stand-up, fucking fantasy 

my oral orgasm impulse is dry hump the counter

Tasting Like Popcorn starring My Salted Rice, 

with Evoo as Health Conscious Movie Butters

and Soybean Tofu playing Protein Alternative,

extras casting provided by Veggie Raw Assorts

It's another day to be alive

it's another big day to lose,

one more dawn to win, win

so that's what I will choose!

Pick the car, it drives faster

don't stop, keep on learnin'

free parking it's unblocking

buy hotel set up your office 

passing Go again and again

collecting those 200 poems!

I so wanted everything perfect

but something's never perfect!

I am perfectly okay with it now

I'm seeing love today, I can feel it

I'm here, in a loving mother's face

she's patient praising the children

I hear her adorable human audible

Grandpa aged man playing browser games?

She said it's okay! To play my browser game,

told me her son liked playing them a lot also

this amiable, PhD'd woman gifts a nice boost

My evolving taste has settled on mangos

the meat firmly gooey and porously solid

Whilst sucking on her pliable, sinewy seed

with infinitely bursting, ice-creamy flavors 

fibers catching in-between tooths like floss

I wax primordial, wipe pulp off simian chin

Some days are like that; nothing

dry as a moldy raisin; something

I'd never have written this piece,

hadn't it been for all these grapes

aging here on earthy, brown vines

dead in their sticky, cardboard box

We cannot recork what's been done

no whining 'bout wine out of bottle