Thursday, March 27, 2008

5 more poems

miss morrison, a mischievous maid
to walk alone was not afraid
but when the werewolf bared his teeth
upon the lonely blasted heath
she wished at home she had stayed

a genial gourmand named gight
ate oysters all day and night
he got overheated
and remained seated
when it was time to fuss and fight

a temperance lady named june
busted up the local saloon
with her mighty truncheon
she destroyed the free luncheon
and the drunkards warm cocoon

a nasty little boy named burke
was considered by his fellows a jerk
instead of worshipping football players
he spent his days sending fervid prayers
to satan -which didn't work

listen to the rain as it beats
on the windows and in the streets
it swirls and falls
it murmurs and calls
listen to the rain as it beats

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

green light/not really an american

she was one of those people you just like to be around.

she was one of the original five, or one of the original six. this fascinated me.

we were headed uptown to the airport. then she remembered frank or billy, he was like a father or a brother to her. we went back downtown to look for him.

we split up to look for him. i was walking along a construction site and these punks were laughing and coming toward me with plastic bags of blue paint. they were going to paint me blue. then there were only two of them and i got away.

we were going back uptown. she was driving. i thought, i'll never understand the traffic in this town. the light was red. three guys came up behind us on the sidewalk, the two on the outside holding up the one in the middle. he didn't look drunk, more like he was spastic or had serious problems. they were laughing about something - " that sounds like something you would hear at macdonalds". something about playing ball - i didn't get it because i'm not a real american. the guy on the outside turned into a fish/basketball and floated on his back in the gutter.

the light turned green. i started to know it was a dream. i woke up. i never saw her again. i never knew who she was.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

bad beatnik bongo poem #3

lenin had a little beard
he kept it neat and trim
jesus had a bigger one
but it looked good on him

walt whitman had a butterfly
perched upon his shoulder
buddha watched the mountains crumble
as the world got older

poe wore a neatly tied cravat
so did baudelaire
blackbeard sailed the spanish main
looking for his share

bongos on a desert island
drifting from the shore
columbus sailed the ocean blue
trying to find the score

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

5 sad poems

a pensioner named pollock
was a confirmed alcoholic
the old fool was heard to mutter
as he looked for bottles in the gutter
this being a drunk is no frolic

a cheerleader named aurora
had her whole life before her
she fell in with a bad crowd
and was heard to proclaim aloud
all i want is to score, duh

ethel jones washed rich folks sheets
and her daughter walked the streets
and made more money in fifteen minutes
than ethel in her whole life - that's sad isn't it?
listen to the rain as it beats

jenny's kitty climbed a tree
because it wanted to be free
perched below the topmost leaf
it looked down with pure relief
at jenny's weeping misery

a patient named percival pone
walked the earth alone
down the corridors of the hospital
he dreamed of all things possible
until he finally turned to stone