Monday, January 29, 2018

This Way to the Moon Egress

Let’s put the idiots on the moon.
We’ll do it like P. T. Barnum did it
and his, “This Way to the Great
Egress” exhibit.

The Egress of course, was
the exit. People foolish
enough not to know what
the egress was, found themselves
back out on the street. Bewildered.

So we’ll come up with something like,
“This way to the endless orgasm
machine!”, or “This way to the free
money and guns pavilion!”

And the idiots will walk down that
corridor, find themselves on a
one way space ship to the moon.
Once filled to capacity, “Whoosh!”
To the Moon, Alice.

I wonder if you could see all the
corpses of the idiots all over
the surface of the Moon from Earth?
Dotting the Sea of Tranquility with
their “I’m with Stupid” tee-shirts and
“Make America great Again”, trucker caps.

Hmm, maybe that’s not such a hot
idea. I’d hate to ruin the Moon the way
we’ve ruined the Earth with gaggles of
knuckle dragging idiots littering the
the landscape.

I guess we’ll just have to educate them
and make them productive members of
society. Damn it.  No. No, I was right,
to the Moon they should go.  The Dark Side.

Friday, January 26, 2018

Music Interrupted Me


Hey, remember me?
The one with all the wordy words,
that fella, the self proclaimed poet,
who had the audacity to remind you
of your humanity.

Well here I am.
I know I’ve been away.
I’m sorry it’s been so long.
But the wordy word business
is tough and sometimes silence
is all there is.

So now I’m back, to let you know,
I can really shake ‘em down.
Do you love me?
(Do you love me?)
Now that I, can dance?
Watch me now…

Work
work…

Oh, sorry. I might be a little
distracted.
A little busy with life and its
incessant need to be cultivated,
trimmed, re-potted, and otherwise
watered.

So I hope I can get back to the
wordy word business in earnest,
when time stops insisting I do other
things, like make money to live and
such. Bah!

In the meantime, don’t you forget
about me, no, no, no, no…
As you walk on by…


La, la, la, la, ah, la-la-la, lah-la, la…

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Interior Monologue

Individual irritations I attempt
to ignore as irrational and
inappropriate.  Albeit, they
insist.

Incongruous and inconsistent,
annoying ideas infiltrate and
inflame my innards,
insulting any intelligence.

I am intrepid in my instability
and irrationality, self-imposed
isolationism and icy iconoclastic
immobility.

I am alone in an inner influence,
incapable of inviting another in to
investigate the interior issues I
invest.

It is irritating and infuriating to
idle in insecurity and injury, yet
adept in interpreting it as
idiocy, immaturity, and ineffectiveness.

Incorrectly I inscribe immediacy to
my irritations and they become incendiary,
igniting an influx of indulgent anxious
insecurities.

Inside, I ingest an inexorable amount of
irritation, imbued with inexhaustible
improprieties; and yet, I imbibe it all,
inherently aware of its impermanency.

Impossible inconsistencies in identity,
I laugh in spite of myself, involved in
the idiosyncrasies of an inner-monologue.
I am interestingly amused, and by my intonation,
less influenced by irritation.  

Friday, January 5, 2018

Little Baby New Years


Little Baby New Year,
all swaddled and clean,
sucking on their little thumb,
sleeping gently, even sweetly.

Little Baby New Year,
a serene scene of freshness,
in the maternity ward of
time.

Only five days old and
already the world is coming
for you, to mangle and cheapen
your gentle sleep.

Little Baby New Year,
behind a sheet of glass,
keeping warm and dry,
in temporary peace.

Here comes a nurse for
the evening feeding.
What’s she feeding that kid?
Is that milk?

Doesn’t look like milk,
looks like lava and bilge water
mixed with dirty tea leaves and
morphine.

Little Baby New Year,
starting to resist the bottle,
pushing back a little, but
too weak to really fight.

Little Baby New Year,
too early on the bottle,
never should have left
mom’s teat.