Hi Jake, thank you for sending these to Synchronized Chaos! Appreciate the satire and the speculative bits of your work. We’ll publish in September!
As always, please feel welcome to comment on pieces at synchchaos.com. We all appreciate feedback!
Cristina
President of the Smithsonian
President Al Wilson
Not content with taking.
Over the Kennedy Center
As part of the MAGA movement
Culture war against the communists
Radical left-wing Marxist
Enemies of real America.
Had described that the Smithsonian.
Must reflect traditional American values.
And avoid divisive or anti-American.
Or anti-Christian propaganda.
Therefore, he decreed,
The African American Studies Museum
Must close,
The African Art Museum
Must close.
The American Indian Museum
Must close.
The Smithsonian must be color blind.
And not to mention race or gender
Slavery or the treatment of American Indians,
And the whole Chinese Exclusion Act
And internment of Japanese Americans
Which was a good thing,
Or the holocaust, for that matter.
End anti-American, Anti-Christian,
Anti-MAGA, cultural Marxism
Radical lunatic left, CRT, DEI
And WOKE programming.
Throughout the Smithsonian.
The African American museum holdings
And the American Indian Museum
And the African Art Museum
Will be sold off at an auction.
So the president decreed
MAGA baby all the way
RESTORING TRUTH IN AMERICAN HISTORY: Today, President Donald J. Trump signed an Executive Order restoring truth and sanity to American history by revitalizing key cultural institutions and reversing the spread of divisive ideology.
President Trump aims to ensure that the Smithsonian is an institution that sparks children’s imagination, celebrates American history and ingenuity, serves as a symbol to the world of American greatness, and makes America proud.
The Order directs the Vice President, who is a member of the Smithsonian Board of Regents, to work to eliminate improper, divisive, or anti-American ideology from the Smithsonian and its museums, education and research centers, and the National Zoo.
The Order directs the Administration to work with Congress to ensure that future Smithsonian appropriations: (1) prohibit funding for exhibits or programs that degrade shared American values, divide Americans by race, or promote ideologies inconsistent with Federal law; and (2) celebrate women’s achievements in the American Women’s History Museum and do not recognize men as women.
The Vice President will work with congressional leaders to appoint members to the Smithsonian Board of Regents who are committed to advancing the celebration of America’s extraordinary heritage and progress.
The Order also directs the Secretary of the Interior restore Federal parks, monuments, memorials, statues, markers, or similar properties that have been improperly removed or changed in the last five years to perpetuate a false revision of history or improperly minimize or disparage certain historical figures or events.
In preparation for the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 2026, the Order directs the Secretary of the Interior to complete restorations and improvements to Independence Hall by that date.
COMBATING CORROSIVE IDEOLOGY: In the last decade, Americans have witnessed a concerted effort to rewrite American history and force our nation to adopt a factually baseless ideology aimed at diminishing American achievement. President Trump is fighting back by reestablishing truth in the historical narrative and restoring Federal sites dedicated to American heritage.
The prior administration pushed a divisive ideology that reconstrued America’s promotion of liberty as fundamentally flawed, infecting revered institutions like the Smithsonian and national parks with false narratives.
At Independence National Historical Park in Philadelphia, the Biden Administration sponsored training by an organization that advocates for dismantling “Western foundations” and that taught Park Rangers that their racial identity should dictate how they present history to visitors.
The Smithsonian Institution—once revered throughout the world as a symbol of American excellence—has recently promoted divisive ideology that American and Western values are harmful.
The American Art Museum currently features an exhibit that purports to address how “sculpture has been a powerful tool in promoting scientific racism” and claims that the United States has “used race to establish and maintain systems of power, privilege, and disenfranchisement.”
The National Museum of African American History and Culture has proclaimed that “hard work,” “individualism,” and “the nuclear family” are aspects of “White culture.”
The American Women’s History Museum plans to celebrate male athletes participating in women’s sports.
CELEBRATING AMERICAN GREATNESS: President Trump is committed to honoring America’s extraordinary heritage and building a sense of national pride.
President Trump signed an Executive Order on his first day in office to establish a task force to prepare for America’s 250th birthday.
This Order also protects America’s monuments from vandalism and calls for construction of the National Garden of American Heroes.
President Trump signed a memorandum ensuring Federal buildings reflect the timeless grandeur of traditional, classical architecture.
By signing this Executive Order, President Trump is ensuring that American history is celebrated accurately, fairly, and with pride—honoring the remarkable progress, liberty, and ingenuity that define our great nation.
Meanwhile, In The Real World, You Can Be Fired For Going To The Doctor
Meanwhile
In the real world
You can be fired
For going to the doctor
.
the worker’s bosses.
Can refuse to let workers
go to the appointment.
As they are not required
To grant them leave
sick leave.
Bad for the bottom line
And they have no empathy
For workers.
Who are seen as
Merely disposable, interchangeable
Labor units of production.
Who should be replaced
By robots
as soon as possible.
People will be given a choice.
Go to work, gravely ill.
Or go to the EER.
And six hours later
Perhaps see an overwhelmed doctor
And told me to follow up.
With your primary care doctor.
Who the hell knows.
Who that is any more?
You get the bill
10,000 dollars,
Pay up sucker!
No money?
Not my problem.
And go back to find.
You have been fired.
For leaving or not showing
Up for your shift.
Doctors visit?
That’s not my problem.
You are going to die.
So be it.
We can find other workers.
Or robots to take your place.
Loser.
President Al Wilson Reverses Course on Climate Change, From Denial to Action in the Wake of National Catastrophe
With the destruction of most of Florida—including Mar-a-Lago—
Monster storms ravaging Texas,
And Los Angeles reduced to ash
By earthquake and fire,
President Al Wilson finally decided:
Climate change is real.
It is killing people—
Especially in red states
.
The costs of rebuilding are horrific.
The costs of doing nothing?
Even worse.
His advisors, once cautious, now urgent,
Convinced him to embrace
a rapid shift to green energy.
Solar, wind, geothermal—no longer fringe,
Now the backbone of survival.
And beyond Earth,
Plans accelerate for lunar and Martian colonies,
With NASA’s bioregenerative greenhouses already in prototype.
Underground cities, domed habitats—once sci-fi,
Now contingency plans.
Wilson must work with the world.
Not just to lead,
But to redeem.
If he fails,
And the world turns
into a hellscape man created,
History will remember him
As the worst leader
in human memory.
But if he succeeds—
If he reverses course,
And actually solves the problem—
He could be hailed
As the savior of humanity.
Doing something to change the future
Is good politics.
Continued climate denialism
Is bad politics.
And so,
He reverses course.
MAGA Dreams Come True
President AL Wilson
Had a dream
The MAGA dream
Coming true!
This time will be different
The internet and AI
Will be used
To make sure
That MAGA rules
And Christian values
Take over.
LGBT folks
Back in the closet
Where they beyond.
Women’s rights curtailed
Minorities deported.
Media tamed
The public distracted
By the latest fake
Celebrity scandal.
The rich live very well
With robot servants
Self-driving vehicles
Great health care.
Maybe even cloned body parts
But the poor
Will barely live
But who cares about them?
MAGA, Baby
The real scandal
The taking over
Of democracy
By the oligarchs
Not talked about.
The secret camps
Filled with people
Who disappear.
Climate change
well the rich
Can live on
In walled off
underground shelters.
The rest of the public
Who cares?
And so it goes
Democracy dies
In broad daylight
MAGA baby!
Bad Craziness Rising
Walking into the Cosmos Bar
In Soi Cowboy in Bangkok
The City of Lost Angels.
That nefarious den
of iniquity and evilness
Twenty drinks too sober.
I sat down at that bar
Watching the mad scene unfold
The naked ladies dancing.
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon
And one Singha beer.
With my buddies.
the whole motley
Jack Daniels crew.
Drinking with Mr. Baker Beam, Jim Beam, Mr. Blanton
Mr. Booker, Elijah Craig, Jack Daniels
George Dickel, Thomas H. Handy, Basil Haydens
Henry McKenna, Old Mr. Forester, Mr. Jameson
Mr. Nester, David Nichols, Benjamin Prichard,
George T. Stagg, Colonel E.H. Taylor,
Johny Walker, Evans Williams, William Larue Weller
W.L. Weller Pappy Van Winkle, and his old Grand Dad.
The scent of bad craziness
Hung in the air like
A sexed-up durian fruit.
an over-ripe mango girl
Desperately seeking to have sex
With wild, dressed-up bananas
Running around with the Orange Man.
Down the Street,
the Moon, looks out on the mad scene
Sniffs the air, saying,
“Man, this is bad craziness”
And runs away to join her lover the Sun
In an orgy of drunken forgetfulness
The Planet Mars, not amused, chases after the maiden Venus
Under the cold, calculating glances of the Planet Pluto
The Moon and the Sun rent a room in the Hotel Venus
Across from the Jupiter All Night Diner
Cosmic shit kickers, out for a night of Earth bashing
The Earth trembles, shaken
Moans with passion, and I awake
Saying, that was bad craziness.
Out there on the edge
Between the inner me and the outer zone
I went on down that road heading to hell
Just as fast as I could drink it all down.
And met me a lady, an outlaw lady on the far side.
Money, power, and passion rolled up in a bundle
Electric chemistry fills my head,
Zapping my brain into demented muscles
As I give in to the
“bao bao ya yah Madi “ madness
Bad craziness overwhelmed me.
All around me.
As paranoid, pulsating images scream out
With mad passion, and demented noises
The night turns ugly fast
And very, very weird
Weirdness in the air
The scent of bad craziness.
As the wild things come out to play.
The moon is freaked out
The Sun falls asleep in the gutter
And I say to myself, I’m just another cosmic Guy
On the loose, on the edge, on the wild side of things
Watching the show unfold, I wonder,
Is this all nothing but a cosmic drunken bum show?
Who is the star, who is she – the naked maiden up there in the bar
Black, leather jackets on stage naked visions of nightly lust
Dancing with an attitude that could kill an elephant in heat
And the Moon continues to dance across the evening sky
Satisfied, allows mankind to sleep it off.
Yet another night in the city of demented lunatic hell’s angels
Finally, rest as the sun comes up casting its evil eye over the sleeping city
Dispelling the bad craziness for a spell.
Blasting the wild things back to hell.
The masks come back on
And I walk down the road
Putting everything back into the box.
Until the next night of bad craziness
Let’s the wild beast within
Escape its leash.
Bad craziness rising yet again.
America, Where Are Thou?
I used to live in a place
Called the United States of America
A republic – the first and last hope of mankind
The land of the free, the home of the brave
The envy of the world
The land of the American dream
And now, I am afraid
That the Star-Spangled Banner
No longer flies
Over the land of the brave
And the home of the free.
I wake up
The red, white and blue
Have been overwhelmed
The dark forces of the red states
Have overwhelmed the light of the blue states
Have trounced the reason offered by the Blue States
And the white forces
Lie trembling in fear
I tried to escape
The darkling night
The ever-glowing Orange alerts
And escape somewhere
The leader of the country
The new uncrowned Empire
Rules over us all
Empire Triumphant
Against all enemies
The USA is number one
We chant and scream
And watch FOX TV
As we march off to war
The rest of the world
Trembles in fear at our might
We rule – we rock and roll, and are triumphant
Against all enemies, dissenters, and foreigners
The U.S. marches on to victory
Freedom is on the march
Liberation is at hand
As the rich gather gleeful
Contemplating the plunder of the state
And the poor grow more desperate
I cry out for the country that I have lost
Whose soul has been lost
And the end of the Republic
For which I believed
The empire has won
Long Live the new Caesar
Long Live the New American Empire
Death to all its enemies
As the dream fades into a nightmare
I cry knowing that we have all lost
The last best hope of mankind
Lives buried in the ash heap of history
Tyranny in the guise of Democracy
Rules us all forever and ever
And that flag
The star-spangled banner
Does not wave anymore
Over the land of the free
And the home of the brave
Waiting For The Rapture
While I was sitting on the crowded subway train
Reading the corporate spoon-fed false propaganda news
While commuting from my suburban townhouse
Watching the lies masquerading as so-called truth news.
I became consumed
With dread, fear, and grief,
The ever-growing fear that the terrorists
Have won the war against terrorism.
We’ve given our freedom away
Dissent is un-American, anti-Christian,
and unpatriotic.
“Shut your face, you whiny leftist girlie man
Communist, fascist, Marxist hoodlum punk
Radical left-wing vermin, garbage person,
Un-American terrorist supporting, Tersymps,
Trans gendered, LGBTQ supporting,
wimpy assed piece of crap”
You are poisoning the pure blood
of our great land
Show us your papers, prepare to be deported,”
Growls the voice of the One True American party
The party that controls our life, rules our very existence
And I want to escape these dark nightmarish times
All around me, but there is nowhere to run
Nowhere to hide anymore, no one cares
What I think anyway.
The terrorists lurk behind every door
Who are the terrorists?
They are not me
I am a god-fearing white Christian man
The terrorist does not go to my church
He does not even believe in my God..
He is a heretic, a Muslim fanatic
A non-believer in Jesus, not like me
They must be killed, exterminated
All according to God’s plan
This has been revealed
to our Prophet in chief
King Donald Trump
, the invincible
Must learn how to believe again
I must reprogram myself
God is watching us, or is it big Brother
As the world descends into chaos
And the Orange alerts
grows brightly day by day
I lay down to pray for the bombs to fall
For the rapture to take me away
Waiting for the end of existence
Cleanse the world of its sins
Bring on the rapture, sweat nuclear flames
With these dismal thoughts
I pick up my newspaper
and look for something
I will never find there.
Truth is nothing but lies
Lies promoted by the spinmeisters
The true masters of the Universe.
Integrity is nothing but a lie
Nothing but a game.
Slime oozes out
of every corner of the media
And so I remain consumed
by dread, fear, and hatred.
Waiting in vain for the rapture
The dropping of the big one
Waiting for the
end of this period of chaos.
It is all going according to plan
The end of the era
according to the ancient Mayan
Revelations and the Koran.
Bring on the rapture
Let me meet my god
If he exists.
If not the hell ahead
Is surely better than this hell
We live in.
One Night in Bombay, India
bombay pictures
One wild night in Bombay, India
I walked into an evil bar 20 drinks too sober
On the wicked wrong end of a Friday night booze run.
On the bad side of the Moon over by where the Martian dudes
Sat drinking their Martian whisky, ogling the Venus maidens.
Leering at the earth women who were walking by
Wearing skin-tight pants made their eyeballs hurt.
I gave in to the spirit and went over to the Martian dudes
And got drunk on the Martian madness, shot after shot
Smoking some good old-fashioned Mars dust.
And flew off to the planet Jupiter
Just to have me some fun with a lady
Who said she was from Saturn?
I did not know she was from the planet Pluto.
Until I woke up the next day, naked, under the alien Sun
In jail on the Planet Alpha Centura, light-years from home,
A million miles away, a thousand years in the future
And I had no money, no honey, no way home.
Still 20 drinks too sober, I just sat down in that jail
And started drinking away my time
Drinking fine cold assed Centurion wine
and Pluto Whisky.
One day I woke up
and found me back in Bombay
Standing outside that evil bar
in the miasmic mist
Over by the Martian whorehouse,
down by the Gate of India
And I walked up to
the Saturn-Pluto babe
And said,
“Man, that was some bad shit
Bad craziness.”
Let’s do it again someday,
she smiled, and I had my way
Knew the day would come again.
When I would be drinking with the Martians
And something wicked my way would come
Just another night of wicked fun
On the wrong side of the Moon
On the right night
in the mean streets of Bombay.
Just AN Unhinged Lunatic Howling AT THE Moon
On a moonlit late-night
I sat in the Cosmos Bar
In Soi Cowboy
Drinking drams of demented,
fermented dream dew
With one scotch, one bourbon. and one beer
To chase it all down.
Twenty drinks too sober.
Just an unhinged lunatic
Dreaming of howling
at the super full moon.
Watching the world walk by
Looking at all the fine-looking babes
Walking by the street
Thinking wild, erotic thoughts
Of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar
Walked the most beautiful women
In the Universe.
So wild, so free
So wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
As this carnal, deprave
lustful vision of delight
Sauntered through the bar
In a skin-tight leather pants
Looked so fine
That my eyeballs hurt
And finally
I had to say something
So I gathered up
My manly courage
And walked up to her
And she looked at me
And instantly
Bewitched my soul
Mesmerizing me
With a devilish grin.
I lost all reason
And became a raving lunatic
Unhinged lunatic
Howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth
A wild, free werewolf
Howling at the lunatic light
Of the full Moon
Poetry from Jake Cosmos Aller (one of nine poems)
God’s Confession
I was sitting alone
In a god-forsaken bar
the Cosmos Bar in Soi Cowboy
Bangkok, Thailand
On the lunatic fringes of society
Twenty drinks too sober
In the ass end of
a Friday night booze binge
On the bad part of town
Over by railroad tracks
Heading to hell
As fast as I could drank it down
Enjoying my lonely drink
Drinking by my lonesome self
With my partners Jimmy Bean, Jack Daniels, The Walker brotherEvan Williams And his old Granddad
Just drinking one bourbon, one scotch, and one beer
Sam Adams
sat drinking alone
in a bar
on the shady side of life.
Filled with strange creatures
fellow lost souls
drinking late into the night.
The lunatic light
of the blood-red moon
illuminates the bar.
He stands up
twenty drinks too sober
walks outside.
Looks at the full moon
begins howling at the moon
like an escaped banshee
released from hell.
Lunatic Light of the Full Moon Haiku
The lunatic light
of the blood-red super-moon
lights up the mad night.
The Werewolf Emerges
On the night of the super red full moon
Sam Adams set in a bar
drinking his way to hell.
As fast as he could
Sam Adams had a secret
he was convinced
that he was a werewolf.
On the nights of the full moon
he would shed his human form
and the inner werewolf would emerge
to howl at the moon.
As the blood-red moon
danced across the sky
the transformation began
as usual.
Sam gradually felt
the inner werewolf emerging
taking over his soul.
Sam dams stood up
the transformation complete
He ran outside
to howl at the moon,
The other drinkers
shrugged
Just another night
of insanity
in their din of iniquity.
Just an Unhinged Lunatic Howling at the Moon
On a moonlit late-night
i sat in a bar
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women.
In the universe
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In a skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
And finally, i had to say something
so i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
And she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin.
I lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
Howling at the Moon
I stood outside
between the trees
in a field
on the outside of town.
Beneath the lunatic rays
of the blood-red full moon.
The lunatic lights of the moon
casts a wild primeval glow
on me.
The hormonal chemicals are unleashed
the wild beast within
escapes it chain.
And i howl with delight
a werewolf
free at last.
howling at the moon.
To run amuck
free of its civilized restraints
throwing off its clothes
stripping naked.
Running wild
naked and free
a wild man
enjoying his freedom.
Lunatic howling at the moon
As i sit
under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lights of the moon.
Full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon.
Riding into the new dawn
on a demented harley davis cycle.
With two naked babes on his back.
Riding into the sun
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
He disappears
into the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And i wake up
alone in my bed
saying, man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And i join him
in howling at the moon.
One Crazy Night
One crazy moonlit night
i could not get to sleep
at all.
I looked up
looked out at the window
at the full blood moon
saw by its lunatic light,
Your face
was on the moon.
And i looked up
at the light
that crazy light.
and dreamed
I was with you
again.
And I woke up
again
and I woke up
alone in my bed.
Dreaming dark dreams
of you
wishing it were
other than it was.
I stepped outside
and began howling
at the full moon.
All alone
all alone again
in this world.
Full Moon Lunacy
lovers in the moon light
The full moon hangs
in the evening sky.
Huge, heavy, and full of mystery
it almost looks like it will fall
out of the sky.
The full moon brings out
the lunatics run amuck
howling at the light of the moon.
The full moon inspires lustful thoughts
and wild erotic imaginings
and dark secret desires.
As the lunatic light of the full moon
causes civilized people
to lose themselves
and embrace their inner wild child.
And so, I stare
at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And howl like an escaped banshee
howling at the moon.
Crazed Madman Howling at the Moon
On a moonlit late-night
i sat in a bar
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women.
In the universe
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In a skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
And finally, i had to say something
so i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
And she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin.
I lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
Another Lunatic Howling at the Moon
s I sit
under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red light of the moon.
Full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon.
Riding into the new dawn
on a demented Harley-Davis cycle
With two naked babes on his back
Riding into the moon
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
He disappears into the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And I wake up
alone in my bed.
saying, man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And I join him
in howling at the moon.
Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
a moonlit night
the pink moon
shone casting a baleful light
in the world below.
A man sat drinking
in a depraved bar
in an evil part of the city.
Drinking up a storm
with his buddies
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Mr. Evan.
Johhny Walker brothers,
And old granddad looked on.
Encouraging him to drink
one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
He looked up
at the naked dancing ladies
dancing up a storm
with an attitude
a z tude
that could kill.
He stood up
stepped outside
and howled
at the pink moon
who smiled at him.
Howling with the Dancing Moon
A man
sits drinking late into the night
on the night of the blood-red
super pink moon.
The lunatic light of the moon
inspires him
as he drinks
in that depraved din of inequity
on the left side of society.
Drinking with his buddies
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Mr. Evan.
Johhny Walker brothers,
And old granddad looked on.
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon
and one beer.
Watching the naked woman
Dancing on stage.
He finishes drinking
20 drinks too sober
he walks outside.
And sees the naked moon
dancing up a storm
flying across the sky
ripping her clothes off.
Tap dancing
to the insane disco beat
of the bar.
He gives in
jumps into the sky
dancing with the naked moon
howling with the moon maiden.
Like an escaped banshee
from the lunatic bins
of hell.
The Pink Super Moon
The pink super moon
casts a cold baleful glow
over the sleeping world
inspiring the drunken men
to howl at the moon.
Howling at the Pink Super-moon
On a moonlit late-night
the pink supermoon
casting a baleful light
in the world below.
While inside
Sam Adams sat drinking
in a depraved bar
in a den of iniquity.
In an evil part of the city
on the left side
of society.
Drinking up a storm
with his buddies
Johnny Walker, Jack daniels
Jim Beam, and Mr. Evan
and old granddad looked on.
Encouraging him to drink
one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
He was just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
He looked up
at the naked dancing ladies
dancing up a storm
with an attitude
a z tude
that could kill.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women
in the universe.
So wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
He did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that his eyeballs hurt.
Finally, he had to say something
he gathered up my manly courage
he walked up to her.
She looked at him
instantly bewitched his soul
with a devilish grin.
He lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic.
Under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lights of the moon
full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon
riding into the new dawn.
on a demented Harley Davis cycle
with two naked babes on his back.
Riding into the moon.
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
he disappears into the lunatic light
of the full moon,
Sam Adams woke up alone,
in his bed
the naked babes
having disappeared
from his demented dreams.
Saying,
“man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.”
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And joins him
in howling at the pink moon
in the fading light
of the lost last night
of the newly damned.
Wolves Howling at the Moon
As the night falls
The full moon
The blood-red full moon
Begins to rise
Carving a sign
Across the night sky
Now you begin to
To hear the pitiful sound
The thumping of the wolves
As they gathered together
Dropping from their hiding places
Gathering together
Revealing their lies
And in one breath
Snarling begin to howl
At the full red blood moon
Zombie Wolves Howling at the Moon
As the moon rises
Over the forest below,
Two wolves gather together
And with one breath
Begin howling at the moon.
Their awful din
Soon wakes up the dead
Zombies walk out of graves
Attacking the living.
The wolves continue to howl
Joined in the zombie hoard.
Woman howling at the moon
A madwoman
Drinking all night
At the Cosmos Bar
Twenty drinks too sober.
Looks outside
At the lunatic light
Of the full moon
Shines over the Chao Praya River
In Bangkok.
She jumps up
Running outside
To howl at the full moon
Like an escaped banshee.
Maria lee off balanced madness
Maria Lee looked up
From her perch in the Cosmos Bar
Looked out at the street
Under the petrichor umbrella
The elastic holding back the rain
It was a gusty early evening
She went out to the street
Looked at the full moon
She began to howl at the moon
Moaning with pleasure
As the pear-shaped moon
Rose overhead
Casting a purple hew
To the mad scene
She jumped overboard
Into the river
Suddenly struck voiceless
And began swimming
She was off balance
As the moon continued
To illuminate the scene
The scent of bad craziness
All around her.
Mad Moonbeams
Adams went out drinking one night
ending up twenty drinks too sober
as the last call for alcohol rang
he looked up and saw
the lunatic light of the full moon
moonbeams beaming at him
he runs outside howling at the moon
dying when a drunk driver ran him over
Howling at the Wolf Moon Rising Over the Chao Praya River
As evening set in
On a typical Friday night
In Bangkok.
The denizens of the Cosmos Bar
In Soi Cowboy.
A motley crew from all over
The world, and locals too.
Lust for the common international language.
Began drinking
With their buddies.
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johny Walker, Evan Williams
Wild turkey, and Old Granddad
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
As the destroyers
Sang on the loudspeakers
And porno played on the tv.
And naked women danced
With an attitude
That could kill
an elephant in heat.
The woman circling the bar
Looking for their eventual dates.
The scent of bad craziness
Hung in the air.
The wolf moon rose
In the sky
Over the Chao Praya River.
Casting its lunatic light
On the never-sleeping
City of lost angels.
The drinkers
20 drinks too sober
Ran out into the street.
The lunatic light
Of the full wolf moon
Transforming them
Into deranged lunatics.
They began
Howling at the moon.
Like escaped banshees
Freed from their alyssum
In hell.
They howled at the moon
As the moon continued
To overwhelm
The howling lunatics.
Howling at the Wolf Moon Nocturna
Drinkers in the Cosmos Bar,
Twenty drinks too sober,
Staring at the lunar star,
rising over the river.
on that night in October.
Running outside looking upriver,
Howling at the full wolf moon.
no longer stone-sober,
Will be very drunk soon.
Basset Puppy Howling at the Moon
In the late afternoon shadow
the red sunset darkening the sky
the basset hound puppy.
.
Stirs and gets up
hearing the distant sounds
of the train in the distance.
Scenting bad craziness in the air
the dog begins to howl in the night.
Howling as the moon rises
casting its lunatic light
on the mad scene.
Deranged lunatic dog
inspired to howl when he sees it
super blue moon
Howling with the Dancing Moon
Sam Adams
sits drinking late into the night
on the night of the blood-red
super blue wolf moon.
The lunatic light of the moon
inspires him.
as he drinks
in that depraved din of inequity
on the left side of society.
Drinking with his buddies,
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker
Old Granddad,
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon
and one beer.
Watching the naked woman
dancing on stage.
He finishes drinking
20 drinks too sober.
He walks outside.
And sees the naked moon
dancing up a storm.
Flying across the sky
ripping her clothes off.
Tap dancing
to the insane disco beat
of the bar.
He gives in
jumps into the sky,
dancing with the naked moon
howling with the moon maiden.
Like an escaped banshee
from the lunatic bins
of hell.
The Pink Super Moon Tanka
More Pink Moon
The pink super moon
casts a cold baleful glow
over the sleeping world
inspiring the drunken men
to howl at the moon.
Drunken Old Man Howling at the Moon
A drunken old man down on his luck
was drinking in a nameless bar
in a disreputable forgotten part of town
where decent citizens and police feared to tread.
twenty drinks too sober
he was drinking his way to hell
surrounded by his fellow low-life bums
outlaw scoundrels one and all.
he looked outside
transfixed by the full moon
the lunatic light of the moon.
Blood red super moon
inspired him compelled him.
he stood up and growled
and ran out into the street
and started howling
at the full moon.
the other denizens of the bar
the derelicts, drunken bums, barflies
rushed out and joined him
in howling at the moon.
went back inside
and continued to drink
their way to hell.
Howling at the full moon in bangkok
Sam Adams was feeling blue, down on his luck. He went to his favorite watering hole, the Cosmos Bar in Soi Cowboy, Bangkok, and began drinking up a storm with his buddies: Jack Daniel’s, Johnny Walker, Old Granddad, Evans, and Jim Beam. He told the comely barmaid, Kuhn Lek, “Bring me one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.” He drank it all down, barely noticing the naked ladies dancing on the stage. She smiled sadly, knowing there was nothing that could change his mood. He kept drinking until, at last, he was twenty drinks too sober. Then he ordered fried fish Thai style for his midnight dinner.
He looked up and out at the street, noticing the full moon outside. The full moon shed its lunatic light on the streets of Bangkok. Sam Adams stood up and said, “The moon is full tonight. Let’s go out and howl at the moon.”
He ran outside onto the road, stripping naked and waving a feather as he danced and howled like an escaped banshee at the glowing moon. He inspired others to join him in howling at the moon. He ran down the street and was tragically run over by a drunk bus driver, ending his life as the moon continued to shine on the mad scene.
Moon Over July
In the middle
of the summer
in july, midsummer madness
outside under the stars
the storm is abating.
The full moon comes out
the man recalling mad lyrics
starts howling at the lunatic light
of the wolf moon
like an escaped banshee
as the mad moon
stares down at them.
Howling at the Strawberry Moon
Big Daddy was talking
to his best friend Sam Adams
in the Cosmos Bar
in Bangkok, Thailand.
Sit down and listen
to me.
God,
i wish I had
my yarn and needles with me
that’s my latest hobby
helps me focus.
In the end
it is all about money
it is all about the benjamin’s
nothing personal at all.
Hey there is cool water in a jar
let’s drink some water
and a shot of Mekong whiskey
it is cocktail time, my friend.
And as usual
they drank through the night
until o dark hundred.
Twenty drinks too sober.
When they joined
their fellow inmates
in their insane asylum
of a bar.
In going outside
howling like escaped banshees
at the strawberry super full moon
shining its lunatic lights
over the Chao Praya River.
Blame it on the moon
blame it on the moon.”
that is what Sam Adams said
to the police
after they picked him up
leading a pack of rabid “farang”
men and woman
running naked down the street.
They had met in front
of the infamous Cosmos Bar
in notorious bangkok
at o dark hundred.
They were heading to the riverbank
when the police arrested them,
for disturbing the peace.
They were all incoherent
just staring at the blood-red
full moon overlooking
the “Chao Phraya “ River.
Looking like escaped banshees
howling at the lunatic lights
of the full super blue moon.
The cops laughed
saying on full moon nights
they had a lot of such incidents
On the night of the blood-red super full moon
I sat in an evil, depraved godforsaken bar.
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
washed down by endless rounds of whiskey
rum, tequila, vodka, soju and of course beer
drinking with my buddies, the Jack Daniels gang.
drinking my way to hell and beyond
just as fast as i could
twenty damn drinks too sober.
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes
walking by the street.
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
when into the bar
that din of cosmic depravity.
walked the most beautiful women
in the universe.
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
in a skin-tight leather pant
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
and finally, I had to say something
so, i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
and she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin,
i lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the blood-red full moon.
foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the blood red blue full moon.
On the night of a blood-red wolf moon
a man stood outside
between the trees
in a field
on the outside of town.
beneath the lunatic rays
of the blood-red full moon
the lunatic lights of the moon
casts a wild primeval glow
on him.
the hormonal chemicals are unleashed
the wild beast within
escapes it chain.
and he howls with delight
a werewolf
free at last.
to run amuck
free of its civilized restraints
throwing off his clothes
stripping naked.
running wild
naked and free
a wild man
enjoying his freedom.
as he sits
under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lights of the wolf moon
full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
and starts running and running
howling at the moon
riding into the new dawn.
on a demented Harvey-Davis cycle
with two naked babes on his back.
riding into the Moon
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
he disappears into the lunatic light
of the full moon.
and he woke ups
alone,
in his bed,
Saying,
“Man, that was quite a night
I better not go there again”
the wildman
laughs
he has heard that before.
and he joins him
in howling at the wolf moon,
Howling at the Moon Bing AI Version
I hear a distant howl
A lonely voice in the night
Calling out to the moon
Seeking its silver light
I feel a primal urge
A restless fire in my soul
Breaking free from the cage
Running wild and whole
I join the chorus of howls
A symphony of the dark
Echoing through the woods
Reaching for the moon’s spark
We are the children of the moon
We live by its phases and tides
We howl at the moon
Howling with the Dancing Moon: This poem describes a surreal and vivid night under the influence of the moon’s lunatic light, blending imagery of dancing and howling.
A man
Sits drinking late into the night
On the night of the blood-red
super blue wolf moon
the lunatic light of the moon
inspires him
as he drinks
in that depraved din of inequity
on the left side of society
Drinking with his buddies
Johnny Walker, Jim Beam
Jack Daniels, Evan, Old Granddad
Drinking one Scotch, one Bourbon
And one beer
Watching the naked woman
Dancing on stage
He finishes drinking
20 drinks too sober
He walks outside
And sees the naked moon
Dancing up a storm
Flying across the sky
Ripping her clothes off
Tap dancing
To the insane disco beat
Of the bar
He gives in
Jumps into the sky
Dancing with the naked moon
Howling with the moon maiden
Like an escaped banshee
From the lunatic bins
Of Hell
In honor of the Pink Moon, the first of three super moons in a row, I have revised my “lunatic Howling at the Moon” poems and posted them on my blog @https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com and on my Spotify podcast. Hope you enjoy them.
Madman Howling at the Super Blue Full Wolf Moon: A tale of transformation and wildness under the spell of the Super Blue Full Wolf Moon, where the protagonist embraces their inner werewolf.
The super blue full wolf moon
fills the sky
with its baleful evil glow
and a man fell under its evil glare
the evil super blue full wolf moon
brings out the beast in him
and he sheds his civilized veneer
the inner werewolf coming out
sniffing the air
smiling saying this is good
and begins running
down the trail
howling at the moon
at the super blue full wolf moon
as it stares down at him
urging him to worship her
the mad mood goddess
who lives in the moon
Diana commands him
compels him
and he gives in
howling like an escaped banshee
escaped from his lair in hell
howling like the werewolf he was
He strips off his clothes
and run deep into the mountains
howling insanely
driven mad
by the baleful evil light
of the super blue full wolf moon
and gives in and become once again
a werewolf consumed by the moon
the super full blue wolf moon
smiles at her victory
and the man joins Diana
in saluting his mistress
Diana the moon goddess
who lives on the moon
and comes out once a year
on the super full blue wold moon
In the late afternoon shadow The red sunset darkening the sky
The basset hound puppy.
.
Stirs and gets up
Hearing the distant sounds
Of the train in the distance.
Scenting bad craziness in the air
The dog begins to howl in the night.
Howling as the moon rises
Casting its lunatic light
On the mad scene.
Please use the following in bold in your poem or story in any order:
afternoon shadow
red sunset
train in the distance
howl in the night
Basset Hound puppy
Here is an updated list of my Howling at the Moon poems, published on the wolf moon night. Quite a few have been published elsewhere.
Index
Begin Poems
Howling at the Moon like an Escaped Banshee
Sam Adams
sat drinking alone
in a bar
on the shady side of life.
Filled with strange creatures
fellow lost souls
drinking late into the night.
The lunatic light
of the blood-red moon
illuminates the bar.
He stands up
twenty drinks too sober
walks outside.
Looks at the full moon
begins howling at the moon
like an escaped banshee
released from hell.
The Lunatic Light of the Blood Red Super-moon
The lunatic light
of the blood-red super-moon
lights up the mad night.
The Werewolf Emerges
On the night of the super red full moon
Sam Adams set in a bar
drinking his way to hell.
As fast as he could
Sam Adams had a secret
he was convinced
that he was a werewolf.
On the nights of the full moon
he would shed his human form
and the inner werewolf would emerge
to howl at the moon.
As the blood-red moon
danced across the sky
the transformation began
as usual.
Sam gradually felt
the inner werewolf emerging
taking over his soul.
Sam dams stood up
the transformation complete
He ran outside
to howl at the moon,
The other drinkers
shrugged
Just another night
of insanity
in their din of iniquity.
Just an Unhinged Lunatic Howling at the Moon
man howling at the man
On a moonlit late-night
i sat in a bar
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women.
In the universe
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In a skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
And finally, i had to say something
so i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
And she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin.
I lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
Howling at the Moon
I stood outside
between the trees
in a field
on the outside of town.
Beneath the lunatic rays
of the blood-red full moon.
The lunatic lights of the moon
casts a wild primeval glow
on me.
The hormonal chemicals are unleashed
the wild beast within
escapes it chain.
And i howl with delight
a werewolf
free at last.
howling at the moon.
To run amuck
free of its civilized restraints
throwing off its clothes
stripping naked.
Running wild
naked and free
a wild man
enjoying his freedom.
Lunatic howling at the moon
As i sit
under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lights of the moon.
Full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon.
Riding into the new dawn
on a demented harley davis cycle.
With two naked babes on his back.
Riding into the sun
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
He disappears
into the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And i wake up
alone in my bed
saying, man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And i join him
in howling at the moon.
One Crazy Night
One crazy moonlit night
i could not get to sleep
at all.
I looked up
looked out at the window
at the full blood moon
saw by its lunatic light,
Your face
was on the moon.
And i looked up
at the light
that crazy light.
and dreamed
I was with you
again.
And I woke up
again
and I woke up
alone in my bed.
Dreaming dark dreams
of you
wishing it were
other than it was.
I stepped outside
and began howling
at the full moon.
All alone
all alone again
in this world.
Full Moon Lunacy
The full moon hangs
in the evening sky.
Huge, heavy, and full of mystery
it almost looks like it will fall
out of the sky.
The full moon brings out
the lunatics run amuck
howling at the light of the moon.
The full moon inspires lustful thoughts
and wild erotic imaginings
and dark secret desires.
As the lunatic light of the full moon
causes civilized people
to lose themselves
and embrace their inner wild child.
And so, I stare
at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And howl like an escaped banshee
howling at the moon.
Howling at the Moon
On a moonlit late-night
i sat in a bar
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women.
In the universe
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In a skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
And finally, i had to say something
so i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
And she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin.
I lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the full moon.
Another Lunatic Howling at the Moon
Pink Moon
As I sit
under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lighs of the moon.
Full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon.
Riding into the new dawn
on a demented harley davis cycle
With two naked babes on his back
Riding into the moon
90 miles per second
at the speed of thought.
He disappears into the lunatic light
of the full moon.
And I wake up
alone in my bed.
saying, man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And I join him
in howling at the moon.
Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
On a moonlit night
the pink moon
shone casting a baleful light
in the world below.
A man sat drinking
in a depraved bar
in an evil part of the city.
Drinking up a storm
with his buddies
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Mr. Evan.
Johhny Walker brothers,
And old granddad looked on.
Encouraging him to drink
one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
He looked up
at the naked dancing ladies
dancing up a storm
with an attitude
a z tude
that could kill.
He stood up
stepped outside
and howled
at the pink moon
who smiled at him.
Howling with the Dancing Moon
More Pink Moon
A man
sits drinking late into the night
on the night of the blood-red
super pink moon.
The lunatic light of the moon
inspires him
as he drinks
in that depraved din of inequity
on the left side of society.
Drinking with his buddies
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Mr. Evan.
Johhny Walker brothers,
And old granddad looked on.
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon
and one beer.
Watching the naked woman
Dancing on stage.
He finishes drinking
20 drinks too sober
he walks outside.
And sees the naked moon
dancing up a storm
flying across the sky
ripping her clothes off.
Tap dancing
to the insane disco beat
of the bar.
He gives in
jumps into the sky
dancing with the naked moon
howling with the moon maiden.
Like an escaped banshee
from the lunatic bins
of hell.
The Pink Super Moon
The pink super moon
casts a cold baleful glow
over the sleeping world
inspiring the drunken men
to howl at the moon.
Howling at the Pink Super-moon
More Pink Moon
On a moonlit late-night
the pink supermoon
casting a baleful light
in the world below.
While inside
Sam Adams sat drinking
in a depraved bar
in a den of iniquity.
In an evil part of the city
on the left side
of society.
Drinking up a storm
with his buddies
Johnny Walker, Jack daniels
Jim Beam, and Mr. Evan
and old granddad looked on.
Encouraging him to drink
one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
He was just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
Watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes.
Walking by the street
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
He looked up
at the naked dancing ladies
dancing up a storm
with an attitude
a z tude
that could kill.
When into the bar
walked the most beautiful women
in the universe.
So wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
He did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
In skin-tight leather pants
looked so fine
that his eyeballs hurt.
Finally, he had to say something
he gathered up my manly courage
he walked up to her.
She looked at him
instantly bewitched his soul
with a devilish grin.
He lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic.
Under the lunatic light of the full moon
of the blood-red lights of the moon
full of wild passions
the lustful beast stirs again.
And starts running and running
howling at the moon
riding into the new dawn.
on a demented harley davis cycle
with two naked babes on his back.
Riding into the moon.
90 miles per se.ond
at the speed of thought.
he disappears into the lunatic light
of the full moon,
Sam Adams woke up alone,
in his bed
the naked babes
having disappeared
from his demented dreams.
Saying,
“man, that was quite a night
i better not go there again.”
The wild beast
laughs
he has heard that before.
And joins him
in howling at the pink moon
in the fading light
of the lost last night
of the newly damned.
Wolves howling at the moon
As the night falls
The full moon
The blood-red full moon
Begins to rise
Carving a sign
Across the night sky
Now you begin to
To hear the pitiful sound
The thumping of the wolves
As they gathered together
Dropping from their hiding places
Gathering together
Revealing their lies
And in one breath
Snarling begin to howl
At the full red blood moon
Zombie Wolves Howling at the Moon
As the moon rises
Over the forest below,
Two wolves gather together
And with one breath
Begin howling at the moon.
Their awful din
Soon wakes up the dead
Zombies walk out of graves
Attacking the living.
The wolves continue to howl
Joined in the zombie hoard.
Woman howling at the moon
A madwoman
Drinking all night
At the Cosmos Bar
Twenty drinks too sober.
Looks outside
At the lunatic light
Of the full moon
Shines over the Chao Praya River
In Bangkok.
She jumps up
Running outside
To howl at the full moon
Like an escaped banshee.
Maria lee off balanced madness
Maria Lee looked up
From her perch in the Cosmos Bar
Looked out at the street
Under the petrichor umbrella
The elastic holding back the rain
It was a gusty early evening
She went out to the street
Looked at the full moon
She began to howl at the moon
Moaning with pleasure
As the pear-shaped moon
Rose overhead
Casting a purple hew
To the mad scene
She jumped overboard
Into the river
Suddenly struck voiceless
And began swimming
She was off balance
As the moon continued
To illuminate the scene
The scent of bad craziness
All around her.
Mad Moonbeams
Sam Adams went out drinking one night
ending up twenty drinks too sober
as the last call for alcohol rang
he looked up and saw
the lunatic light of the full moon
moonbeams beaming at him
he runs outside howling at the moon
dying when a drunk driver ran him over
Howling at the Wolf Moon Rising Over the Chao Praya River
As evening set in
On a typical Friday night
In Bangkok.
The denizens of the Cosmos Bar
In Soi Cowboy.
A motley crew from all over
The world, and locals too.
Lust for the common international language.
Began drinking
With their buddies.
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johny Walker, Evan Williams
Wild turkey, and Old Granddad
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
As the destroyers
Sang on the loudspeakers
And porno played on the tv.
And naked women danced
With an attitude
That could kill
an elephant in heat.
The woman circling the bar
Looking for their eventual dates.
The scent of bad craziness
Hung in the air.
The wolf moon rose
In the sky
Over the Chao Praya River.
Casting its lunatic light
On the never-sleeping
City of lost angels.
The drinkers
20 drinks too sober
Ran out into the street.
The lunatic light
Of the full wolf moon
Transforming them
Into deranged lunatics.
They began
Howling at the moon.
Like escaped banshees
Freed from their alyssum
In hell.
They howled at the moon
As the moon continued
To overwhelm
The howling lunatics.
Howling at the Wolf Moon Nocturna
Drinkers in the Cosmos Bar,
Twenty drinks too sober,
Staring at the lunar star,
rising over the river.
on that night in october.
Running outside looking upriver,
Howling at the full wolf moon.
no longer stone-sober,
Will be very drunk soon.
Basset Puppy Howling at the Moon
In the late afternoon shadow
the red sunset darkening the sky
the basset hound puppy.
.
Stirs and gets up
hearing the distant sounds
of the train in the distance.
Scenting bad craziness in the air
the dog begins to howl in the night.
Howling as the moon rises
casting its lunatic light
on the mad scene.
Deranged lunatic dog
inspired to howl when he sees it
super blue moon
sits drinking late into the night
on the night of the blood-red
super blue wolf moon.
The lunatic light of the moon
inspires him.
as he drinks
in that depraved din of inequity
on the left side of society.
Drinking with his buddies,
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker
Old Granddad,
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon
and one beer.
Watching the naked woman
dancing on stage.
He finishes drinking
20 drinks too sober.
He walks outside.
And sees the naked moon
dancing up a storm.
Flying across the sky
ripping her clothes off.
Tap dancing
to the insane disco beat
of the bar.
He gives in
jumps into the sky,
dancing with the naked moon
howling with the moon maiden.
Like an escaped banshee
from the lunatic bins
of hell.
The Pink Super Moon Tanka
More Pink Moon
The pink super moon
casts a cold baleful glow
over the sleeping world
inspiring the drunken men
to howl at the moon.
Drunken Old Man Howling at the Moon
A drunken old man down on his luck
was drinking in a nameless bar
in a disreputable forgotten part of town
where decent citizens and police feared to tread.
twenty drinks too sober
he was drinking his way to hell
surrounded by his fellow low-life bums
outlaw scoundrels one and all.
he looked outside
transfixed by the full moon
the lunatic light of the moon.
Blood red super moon
inspired him compelled him.
he stood up and growled
and ran out into the street
and started howling
at the full moon.
the other denizens of the bar
the derelicts, drunken bums, barflies
rushed out and joined him
in howling at the moon.
went back inside
and continued to drink
their way to hell.
Howling at the full moon in bangkok
sam adams was feeling blue, down on his luck. He went to his favorite watering hole, the cosmos bar in soi cowboy, bangkok, and began drinking up a storm with his buddies, jack daniel’s, johnny walker, old granddad, evans, and jim beam, telling the comely barmaid, kuhn lek, bring me one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer. Drinking it all down, barely noticing the naked ladies dancing on the stage. She smiled sadly, knowing that there was nothing that would change his mood. He kept drinking until, at last, he was twenty drinks too sober. Then he ordered fried fish thai style for his midnight dinner.
He looked up and out at the street, noticing the full moon outside. The full moon shed its lunatic light on the streets of bangkok. Sam adams stood up, and said,
“the moon is full tonight. Let’s go out and howl at the moon. “
he ran outside onto the road, stripping naked and dancing waving a feather, as he howled like an escaped banshee at the dancing moon. Inspiring others to join him in howling at the moon. He ran down the street and was run over by a drunk bus driver, ending his life as the moon continued to shine on the mad scene.
Moon over july
In the middle
of the summer
in july, midsummer madness
outside under the stars
the storm is abating.
The full moon comes out
the man recalling mad lyrics
starts howling at the lunatic light
of the wolf moon
like an escaped banshee
as the mad moon
stares down at them.
Howling at the Stawberry Moon
Big Daddy was talking
to his best friend Sam Adams
in the Cosmos Bar
in Bangkok, Thailand.
Sit down and listen
to me.
God,
i wish I had
my yarn and needles with me
that’s my latest hobby
helps me focus.
In the end
it is all about money
it is all about the benjamin’s
nothing personal at all.
Hey there is cool water in a jar
let’s drink some water
and a shot of mekong whiskey
it is cocktail time, my friend.
And as usual
they drank through the night
until o dark hundred.
Twenty drinks too sober.
When they joined
their fellow inmates
in their insane asylum
of a bar.
In going outside
howling like escaped banshees
at the strawberry super full moon
shining its lunatic lights
over the Chao Praya River.
Blame it on the moon
Pink Moon
“blame it on the moon.”
that is what Sam Adams said
to the police
after they picked him up
leading a pack of rabid “farang”
men and woman
running naked down the street.
They had met in front
of the infamous Cosmos Bar
in notorious bangkok
at o dark hundred.
They were heading to the riverbank
when the police arrested them,
for disturbing the peace.
They were all incoherent
just staring at the blood-red
full moon overlooking
the “Chao Phraya “ River.
Looking like escaped banshees
howling at the lunatic lights
of the full super blue moon.
The cops laughed
saying on full moon nights
they had a lot of such incidents
On the night of the blood-red super full moon
I sat in an evil, depraved godforsaken bar.
drinking drams of demented, fermented dream dew
washed down by endless rounds of whiskey
rum, tequila, vodka, soju and of course beer
drinking with my buddies the jack daniels gang.
drinking my way to hell and beyond
just as fast as i could
twenty damn drinks too sober.
just an unhinged lunatic
dreaming of howling at the full moon.
watching the world walk by
looking at all the fine-looking babes
walking by the street.
thinking wild, erotic thoughts
of endless wild libertine passions.
when into the bar
that din of cosmic depravity.
walked the most beautiful women
in the universe.
so wild, so free
so wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
as this vision of delight
sauntered through the bar.
in a skin-tight leather pant
looked so fine
that my eyeballs hurt.
and finally, I had to say something
so, i gathered up my manly courage
and walked up to her.
and she looked at me
and instantly bewitched my soul
with a devilish grin,
i lost all reason
and became a raving lunatic
unhinged lunatic
howling at the blood-red full moon.
foaming at the mouth
a wild, free werewolf
howling at the lunatic light
of the blood red blue full moon.
Thank you for submitting your work to our “13 Days of Halloween” series. We were thrilled by the overwhelming number of high-quality submissions this year.
While your piece wasn’t selected for inclusion in that particular series, we are delighted to inform you that it will be featured as part of our “Spillwords Halloween” collection.
‘Partying with the Grim Reaper’ is scheduled for publication on 10/27/24, at 12am Eastern Time (ET).
Once it’s live, you can access it through this link:
Joe Lewis was a retired, divorced, US Gov bot on a last fling trip in his life, and died one day after drinking too much at the Cosmos Bar in Soi Cowboy, Bangkok, Thailand on Halloween night. He sat down with his buddies, Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker, Old Grand-Dad, and Evans Williams. And began drinking his way to hell. Twenty drinks too sober, he gets up to go home, walks out the door, and a drunken bus driver runs over him, instantly killing him.
The light of the blood-red full moon woke him up at 0 dark hundred hours. He found himself in a dark, forbidding, hot, humid jungle with a foul smell of death and decaying vegetation everywhere. He sensed that creatures in the jungles were looking at him with evil, hungry, malicious intent, then he saw them as the dark fog lifted, and a bright red moonlight lit the jungle forest. The nightmare creatures were staring at him with evil hatred flowing from their red eyes.
He saw a terrifying nightmare vision, – seeing giant apes, space aliens, banshees, bats, Bigfoot, centaurs, Cerberus, cheetahs, crows, coyotes, Cthulhu with tentacles, dragons, demons, dinosaurs (raptors and T. rex), devils, dwarfs, gangbangers, gangsters, gangster rappers. Gators, goblins, ghouls, ghosts, giants, giant ants, giant wasps, giant spiders, giant lobsters, gunmen, hellhounds, big game hunters, government bureaucrats, holocausts, imps, Imperial Stormtroopers from Star Wars, naked incubus, leprechauns, jihadis, Lucifer, lions, politicians, mafia made men, ravens, monsters, orcs, reporters, bewitching beautiful yet deadly sirens, Satan, satyrs, snakes, winged monkeys, serpents, special forces soldiers, tigers, werewolves, wolves, witches, warlocks, wraiths, wild things, yeti, and zombies all staring at him. A half-centaur, half-pig monster with two heads–Putin and Trump led the mob.
The Putin-Trump pigman yelled out, “After him. All humans must die. Kill Joe.”
They began chasing him through the dark forest. Even the trees came alive, trying to trip him up, as the nightmare creatures ran after him, the hunters, and soldiers firing flaming arrows and semi-automatic weapons lighting up the night sky, and the birds dive-bombing him trying to get his eyes and face, and the other creatures getting closer and closer screaming.
“Death to all humans. Death to Joe Lewis.”
He looked back. They were gaining on him when he came to a dark, foul-smelling river. A ferryboat filled with hundreds of evil, depraved people on board was floating down the river.
Just as the creatures were about to pounce, he swam into the water, the boat stopped, and two strange-looking men pulled him out of the water. The human monsters on the ship looked at Joe and dismissed him as a loser, a refugee fleeing the monstrous welcoming committee, and not worthy of their time.
The two gentlemen who had pulled him out of the water were strange-looking people, rough-edged, but better than the party people who continued to ignore him or made mocking references to the refugee. Charon, the conductor, an elderly Italian man dressed in a black suit, stood in front of the boat. The Grim Reaper, dressed in a dark suit wearing ray-ban sunglasses, looking oh so cool, stood next to him. The Grim Reaper had a pan-ethnic look, could be almost any ethnicity in the world, but was vaguely non-quite human looking.
When he came aboard the ferryboat, he asked the two strange gentlemen who had rescued him,
“Thanks for saving me. Where am I?”
Handing Joe, a cup of Hell whiskey, the older of the two introduced himself saying,
“I am the Grim Reaper, and this is Charon, and you are on the ferry to Hell. You are floating down the river Styx, heading to Hell and beyond. We saved you from the welcoming committee. Normally they kill our visitors and take their dead bodies to Hell where they receive a bounty, and then you are reborn as a zombie slave, possessed by demons, becoming a ghost, or a ghoul, or are sent to Hell for punishment. But sometimes, virtuous people manage to escape and per our SOP we are obligated to take in the refugees and take them to Limbo for processing. Stay here my friend, because if you go to the party, you may never return to earth.” They are all going to the other place. You do not want to go there I assume”.
He pointed out the partygoers, who ignored Joe. Many of them were infamous figures, including anti-vaxxer crusaders, bar owners, celebrities, corrupt politicians of both American parties, including Governors, Representatives, Senators, drug dealers, members of the British parliament and parliaments around the world, criminals, crooked cops, fake news reporters, gangsters, gangbangers, gangsta rappers, internet bloggers, idiots in both high and low places, “Criminal Lawyers ” media darlings, pharma bros, scumbags, scoundrels, wall street executives, thugs, Italian, Korean, Japanese Yakuza, and Vietnamese Mafia figures.
They were all standing around as if they were at a cocktail party of the newly damned, drinking, smoking dope, snorting coke, and meth, dropping acid, and flirting up a storm, enjoying the free food, drinks, and drugs provided by the” Hell Catering “company using robots and demonic slave labor. They were partying as if it were their last day on earth, and they knew where they were going. Many of them felt that they would somehow manage to thrive in Hell and were looking forward to it.
None of them felt remorse or regret for the actions they had taken in their life. They were mostly entitled “rich people,” the self-proclaimed “masters of the universe. A punk rock band played non-stop punk anthems and obscene parodies of rock and disco songs.
The Grim Reaper went on,
“We are taking you and Mr. Alvarez to Limbo for further processing. He may be going upstairs but being an attorney, I have my doubts. You know what they say about lawyers in heaven, there are almost none and Hell is filled with lawyers, crooked police officers, and mafia figures. Limbo is filled with bureaucrats and the red tape takes forever, and the computer system is always crashing. What can you expect? Well, it is hard to get tech support in Heaven or Limbo, all the tech folks tend to go to Hell. “
Mr. Alvarez was an elderly Italian attorney, a lifelong fighter against corruption, the mafia, and organized criminals, and a famous human rights attorney based in Rome.
They chatted about his life and Joe’s life. Mr. Alvarez said,
“Our new friend, GR said I might be the only lawyer getting into heaven in a long time. Most lawyers end up in the other place.”
The river was black as it was after midnight. There was a stench of decay and death, fire and brimstone, and fires burning in giant pits in the distance. The welcoming committee of nightmare creatures followed the boat shouting obscenities and jumping in the water to retrieve partiers who fell off the boat, taking them to shore where they tortured them, murdered them, and ate them.
The boat stopped at the gate to hell. The other people walked off to the basement of 666 6th Avenue, NYC, where there was one of many secret back doorways to the world above Hell. Demon functionaries dressed in Matrix Mr. Smith-style black suits met them at the ferry terminal. They disappeared into the depths of hell.
The Grim Reaper took Joe and Antonio to the next step, Limbo. A giant black building reached the sky, filled with demonic bureaucrats dressed in Matrix-like Mr. Smith black suits. The Grim Reaper said, “Wait here. It should not be too long; I like you so we will put you in front of the line.”
He saw hundreds of lost souls wandering around. There were signs in multiple languages saying.
“Welcome to Limbo. Your judgment day awaits you. Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid. No one can escape your fate. Wait your turn. You will be processed in the order received. No drinking, drugs, food, phone use, or sexual activity allowed. And no sleeping either. It should not be too long.”
Sometime later a demon comes over and gives him some breakfast – coffee hot as hell, fried eggs, and a burger.
The demon hisses,
“Finish your breakfast. Then follow me to your appointment with Mr. GR”
He follows the demon through the crowd, and found himself in an office, where the Grim Reaper was waiting.
“Joe, Antonio, glad to see you. Please tip the demon.”
Joe paid him 100 dollars and Antonio 100 euros. The demon demanded more. The Grim Reaper swore at him in Demon speak and the demon disappeared into the crowd.
The Grim Reaper consulted his handheld computer, saying,
“Hmm just as I suspected. You are wanted upstairs, and a guardian angel is watching you. But you almost did not make it in time. The computer program has a glitch, and you are being sent back to Earth. Your time for final status determination will be sooner than you think. I hope you and I can be friends. I can hire people as my assistants. We had a lot of fun. It is a career-changing once in a life-time opportunity. Think about it when you come back.”
Joseph Lewis woke up in bed next to his wife, he got up turned on his computer, and read the following message,
“Mr. Joe, I hope you enjoyed your tour last night. But unfortunately, there was a computer glitch in the matrix system that controls limbo, heaven, and hell. It is hard to get tech support in Limbo or Heaven, most of the engineers end up in hell. But in any event, we determined it was not yet your time.
Your friend made it fine and sends his regards. The drinks are on him when you and your wife finally make it. Oh, contrary to the old song, “In Heaven, there is no beer” we have the finest beer, wine, and spirits you can find in Heaven, and Hell as well.
As for the others, you saw, they too will visit the ferry for the last journey within a few years for most of them. But you know where they will end up.”
Thank you! I like the energy in “Just an Unhinged Lunatic” and will publish your pieces over a few issues, starting with that one.
As always, please feel welcome to visit our current site at synchchaos.com and leave comments for our currently published authors and artists. We all appreciate feedback 🙂
Watching the world walk by Looking at all the fine-looking babes Walking by the street Thinking wild, erotic thoughts Of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar Walked the most beautiful women In the Universe. So wild, so free So wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do As this carnal, deprave
lustful vision of delight
Sauntered through the bar In a skin-tight leather pants
Looked so fine That my eyeballs hurt
And finally
I had to say something So I gathered up
My manly courage
And walked up to her And she looked at me
And instantly
Bewitched my soul Mesmerizing me
With a devilish grin.
I lost all reason And became a raving lunatic Unhinged lunatic Howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth A wild, free werewolf Howling at the lunatic light Of the full Moon
One Night in Bombay, India
bombay pictures
One wild night in Bombay, India
I walked into an evil bar 20 drinks too sober
On the wicked wrong end of a Friday night booze run.
On the bad side of the Moon over by where the Martian dudes
Sat drinking their Martian whisky, ogling the Venus maidens.
Leering at the earth women who were walking by
Wearing skin-tight pants made their eyeballs hurt.
I gave in to the spirit and went over to the Martian dudes
And got drunk on the Martian madness, shot after shot
Smoking some good old-fashioned Mars dust.
And flew off to the planet Jupiter
Just to have me some fun with a lady
Who said she was from Saturn?
I did not know she was from the planet Pluto.
Until I woke up the next day, naked, under the alien Sun
In jail on the Planet Alpha Centura, light-years from home,
A million miles away, a thousand years in the future
And I had no money, no honey, no way home.
Still 20 drinks too sober, I just sat down in that jail
And started drinking away my time
Drinking fine cold assed Centurion wine
and Pluto Whisky.
One day I woke up
and found me back in Bombay
Standing outside that evil bar
in the miasmic mist
Over by the Martian whorehouse,
down by the Gate of India
And I walked up to
the Saturn-Pluto babe
And said,
“Man, that was some bad shit
Bad craziness.”
Let’s do it again someday,
she smiled, and I had my way
Knew the day would come again.
When I would be drinking with the Martians
And something wicked my way would come
Just another night of wicked fun
On the wrong side of the Moon
On the right night
in the mean streets of Bombay.
Waiting For The Rapture
While I was sitting on the crowded subway train
Reading the corporate spoon-fed false propaganda news
While commuting from my suburban townhouse
Watching the lies masquerading as so-called truth news.
I became consumed
With dread, fear, and grief,
The ever-growing fear that the terrorists
Have won the war against terrorism.
We’ve given our freedom away
Dissent is un-American, anti-Christian,
and unpatriotic.
“Shut your face, you whiny leftist girlie man
Communist, fascist, Marxist hoodlum punk
Radical left-wing vermin, garbage person,
Un-American terrorist supporting, Tersymps,
Trans gendered, LGBTQ supporting,
wimpy assed piece of crap”
You are poising the pure blood
of our great land
Show us your papers, prepare to be deported,”
Growls the voice of the One True American party
The party that controls our life, rules our very existence
And I want to escape these dark nightmarish times
All around me, but there is nowhere to run
Nowhere to hide anymore, no one cares
What I think anyway.
The terrorists lurk behind every door
Who are the terrorists?
They are not me
I am a god-fearing white Christian man
The terrorist does not go to my church
He does not even believe in my God..
He is a heretic, a Muslim fanatic
A non-believer in Jesus, not like me
They must be killed, exterminated
All according to God’s plan
This has been revealed
to our Prophet in chief
King Donald Trump
, the invincible
Must learn how to believe again
I must reprogram myself
God is watching us, or is it big Brother
As the world descends into chaos
And the Orange alerts
grows brightly day by day
I lay down to pray for the bombs to fall
For the rapture to take me away
Waiting for the end of existence
Cleanse the world of its sins
Bring on the rapture, sweat nuclear flames
With these dismal thoughts
I pick up my newspaper
and look for something
I will never find there.
Truth is nothing but lies
Lies promoted by the spinmeisters
The true masters of the Universe.
Integrity is nothing but a lie
Nothing but a game.
Slime oozes out
of every corner of the media
And so I remain consumed
by dread, fear, and hatred.
Waiting in vain for the rapture
The dropping of the big one
Waiting for the
end of this period of chaos.
It is all going according to plan
The end of the era
according to the ancient Mayan
Revelations and the Koran.
Bring on the rapture
Let me meet my god
If he exists.
If not the hell ahead
Is surely better than this hell
We live in.
AMERICA, WHERE ARE THOU?
I used to live in a place
Called the United States of America
A republic – the first and last hope of mankind
The land of the free, the home of the brave
The envy of the world
The land of the American dream
And now, I am afraid
That the Star Spangled Banner
No longer flies
Over the land of the brave
And the home of the free
I wake up
The red, white and blue
Have been overwhelmed
The dark forces of the red states
Have overwhelmed the light of the blue states
Have trounced the reason offered by the Blue States
And the white forces
Lie trembling in fear
I tried to escape
The darkling night
The ever glowing Orange alerts
And escape somewhere
The leader of the country
The new uncrowned Empire
Rules over us all
Empire Triumphant
Against all enemies
The USA is number one
We chant and scream
And watch FOX TV
As we march off to war
The rest of the world
Trembles in fear at our might
We rule – we rock and roll, and are triumphant
Against all enemies, dissenters, and foreigners
The U.S. marches on to victory
Freedom is on the march
Liberation is at hand
As the rich gather gleeful
Contemplating the plunder of the state
And the poor grow more desperate
I cry out for the country that I have lost
Whose soul has been lost
And the end of the Republic
For which I believed
The empire has won
Long Live the new Caesar
Long Live the New American Empire
Death to all its enemies
As the dream fades into a nightmare
I cry knowing that we have all lost
The last best hope of mankind
Lives buried in the ash heap of history
Tyranny in the guise of Democracy
Rules us all forever and ever
And that flag
The star-spangled banner
Does not waive anymore
Over the land of the free
And the home of the brave
BAD CRAZINESS RISING
Walking into Cosmos Bar
In Soi Cowboy, Bangkok
The city of lost angels.
That nefarious
den of iniquity and evilness
Twenty drinks too sober.
Sitting at the bar
Drinking with my friends
Drinking one scotch,
one bourbon, and one beer.
With the notorious Jack Daniels Gang
Baker Beam, Jim Beam, Mr. Blanton
Mr. Booker, Elijah Craig, Jack Daniels
George Dickel, Thomas H. Handy, Basil Haydens
Henry McKenna, Old Mr. Forester, Mr. Jameson
Mr. Nester, David Nichols, Benjamin Prichard,
George T. Stagg, Colonel E.H. Taylor,
Johny Walker, Evans Williams, William Larue Weller
W.L. Weller Pappy Van Winkle, and his old Grand Dad.
Thank you! I like the energy in “Just an Unhinged Lunatic” and will publish your pieces over a few issues, starting with that one.
As always, please feel welcome to visit our current site at synchchaos.com and leave comments for our currently published authors and artists. We all appreciate feedback 🙂
Watching the world walk by
Looking at all the fine-looking babes
Walking by the street
Thinking wild, erotic thoughts
Of endless wild libertine passions.
When into the bar
Walked the most beautiful women
In the Universe.
So wild, so free
So wonderfully alive.
I did not know what to do
As this carnal, deprave
lustful vision of delight
Sauntered through the bar
In a skin-tight leather pants
Looked so fine
That my eyeballs hurt
And finally
I had to say something
So I gathered up
My manly courage
And walked up to her
And she looked at me
And instantly
Bewitched my soul
Mesmerizing me
With a devilish grin.
I lost all reason
And became a raving lunatic
Unhinged lunatic
Howling at the moon.
Foaming at the mouth
A wild, free werewolf
Howling at the lunatic light
Of the full Moon
One Night in Bombay, India
bombay pictures
One wild night in Bombay, India
I walked into an evil bar 20 drinks too sober
On the wicked wrong end of a Friday night booze run.
On the bad side of the Moon over by where the Martian dudes
Sat drinking their Martian whisky, ogling the Venus maidens.
Leering at the earth women who were walking by
Wearing skin-tight pants made their eyeballs hurt.
I gave in to the spirit and went over to the Martian dudes
And got drunk on the Martian madness, shot after shot
Smoking some good old-fashioned Mars dust.
And flew off to the planet Jupiter
Just to have me some fun with a lady
Who said she was from Saturn?
I did not know she was from the planet Pluto.
Until I woke up the next day, naked, under the alien Sun
In jail on the Planet Alpha Centura, light-years from home,
A million miles away, a thousand years in the future
And I had no money, no honey, no way home.
Still 20 drinks too sober, I just sat down in that jail
And started drinking away my time
Drinking fine cold assed Centurion wine
and Pluto Whisky.
One day I woke up
and found me back in Bombay
Standing outside that evil bar
in the miasmic mist
Over by the Martian whorehouse,
down by the Gate of India
And I walked up to
the Saturn-Pluto babe
And said,
“Man, that was some bad shit
Bad craziness.”
Let’s do it again someday,
she smiled, and I had my way
Knew the day would come again.
When I would be drinking with the Martians
And something wicked my way would come
Just another night of wicked fun
On the wrong side of the Moon
On the right night
in the mean streets of Bombay.
Waiting For The Rapture
While I was sitting on the crowded subway train
Reading the corporate spoon-fed false propaganda news
While commuting from my suburban townhouse
Watching the lies masquerading as so-called truth news.
I became consumed
With dread, fear, and grief,
The ever-growing fear that the terrorists
Have won the war against terrorism.
We’ve given our freedom away
Dissent is un-American, anti-Christian,
and unpatriotic.
“Shut your face, you whiny leftist girlie man
Communist, fascist, Marxist hoodlum punk
Radical left-wing vermin, garbage person,
Un-American terrorist supporting, Tersymps,
Trans gendered, LGBTQ supporting,
wimpy assed piece of crap”
You are poising the pure blood
of our great land
Show us your papers, prepare to be deported,”
Growls the voice of the One True American party
The party that controls our life, rules our very existence
And I want to escape these dark nightmarish times
All around me, but there is nowhere to run
Nowhere to hide anymore, no one cares
What I think anyway.
The terrorists lurk behind every door
Who are the terrorists?
They are not me
I am a god-fearing white Christian man
The terrorist does not go to my church
He does not even believe in my God..
He is a heretic, a Muslim fanatic
A non-believer in Jesus, not like me
They must be killed, exterminated
All according to God’s plan
This has been revealed
to our Prophet in chief
King Donald Trump
, the invincible
Must learn how to believe again
I must reprogram myself
God is watching us, or is it big Brother
As the world descends into chaos
And the Orange alerts
grows brightly day by day
I lay down to pray for the bombs to fall
For the rapture to take me away
Waiting for the end of existence
Cleanse the world of its sins
Bring on the rapture, sweat nuclear flames
With these dismal thoughts
I pick up my newspaper
and look for something
I will never find there.
Truth is nothing but lies
Lies promoted by the spinmeisters
The true masters of the Universe.
Integrity is nothing but a lie
Nothing but a game.
Slime oozes out
of every corner of the media
And so I remain consumed
by dread, fear, and hatred.
Waiting in vain for the rapture
The dropping of the big one
Waiting for the
end of this period of chaos.
It is all going according to plan
The end of the era
according to the ancient Mayan
Revelations and the Koran.
Bring on the rapture
Let me meet my god
If he exists.
If not the hell ahead
Is surely better than this hell
We live in.
AMERICA, WHERE ARE THOU?
I used to live in a place
Called the United States of America
A republic – the first and last hope of mankind
The land of the free, the home of the brave
The envy of the world
The land of the American dream
And now, I am afraid
That the Star Spangled Banner
No longer flies
Over the land of the brave
And the home of the free
I wake up
The red, white and blue
Have been overwhelmed
The dark forces of the red states
Have overwhelmed the light of the blue states
Have trounced the reason offered by the Blue States
And the white forces
Lie trembling in fear
I tried to escape
The darkling night
The ever glowing Orange alerts
And escape somewhere
The leader of the country
The new uncrowned Empire
Rules over us all
Empire Triumphant
Against all enemies
The USA is number one
We chant and scream
And watch FOX TV
As we march off to war
The rest of the world
Trembles in fear at our might
We rule – we rock and roll, and are triumphant
Against all enemies, dissenters, and foreigners
The U.S. marches on to victory
Freedom is on the march
Liberation is at hand
As the rich gather gleeful
Contemplating the plunder of the state
And the poor grow more desperate
I cry out for the country that I have lost
Whose soul has been lost
And the end of the Republic
For which I believed
The empire has won
Long Live the new Caesar
Long Live the New American Empire
Death to all its enemies
As the dream fades into a nightmare
I cry knowing that we have all lost
The last best hope of mankind
Lives buried in the ash heap of history
Tyranny in the guise of Democracy
Rules us all forever and ever
And that flag
The star-spangled banner
Does not waive anymore
Over the land of the free
And the home of the brave
BAD CRAZINESS RISING
Walking into Cosmos Bar
In Soi Cowboy, Bangkok
The city of lost angels.
That nefarious
den of iniquity and evilness
Twenty drinks too sober.
Sitting at the bar
Drinking with my friends
Drinking one scotch,
one bourbon, and one beer.
With the notorious Jack Daniels Gang
Baker Beam, Jim Beam, Mr. Blanton
Mr. Booker, Elijah Craig, Jack Daniels
George Dickel, Thomas H. Handy, Basil Haydens
Henry McKenna, Old Mr. Forester, Mr. Jameson
Mr. Nester, David Nichols, Benjamin Prichard,
George T. Stagg, Colonel E.H. Taylor,
Johny Walker, Evans Williams, William Larue Weller
W.L. Weller Pappy Van Winkle, and his old Grand Dad.
“How Did I End Up Here?
You asked me
How I ended up
In this place?
I mean, I look
Like a reasonable
Responsible white dude
Not a violent thug
Am I right?
Well, my life
Went downhill fast
When I met Maria Lee
In that infamous bar.
You know, the Cosmos bar?
On Telegraph Ave
Down the street
from Mc Arthur Station?
Do you know the UFO place?
Been there?
Yeah then you know
It is filled with hot assed babes
Looking for a little side action
If you know what I mean?
She was a regular there
Stood out from the crowd
Just a drop-dead gorgeous
Korean babe, a real looker.
And I was smitten.
Until she laughed.
I would have happily
Married Maria Lee
If it weren’t for her laughter.
Maria had a horrid laugher
That was just so annoying
A high pitched crackling sound
That filled the air.
Like the proverbial chalkboard
Screeching sound
That got into your ears
And got stuck
Like a malignant earworm.
Her laughter was annoying as hell
And she was a beautiful gal
With a bonkers sexy devil may
Care personality.
Otherwise
We got along famously.
But I just could not get beyond
Her annoying laughter.
That sound made me
Want to beat her up.
Just to shut her up
You know what I mean?
I had to call it off
Before I was driven to murder
Due to her insane laughter.
It was the laugher
Did me in
In the end.
Got five to ten years
In this prison paradise
For the wanton killing
Of Maria Lee.
Last but not least, here’s our prompt for the day (optional, as always). Hard-boiled detective novels are known for their use of vivid similes, often with an ironic or sarcastic tone. Novelist Raymond Chandler is particularly adept at these. Here are a few from his novels:
A few locks of dry, white hair clung to his scalp, like wildflowers fighting for life on a bare rock.
Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.
From 30 feet away she looked like a lot of class. From 10 feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from 30 feet away.
She smelled the way the Taj Mahal looks in the moonlight.
He looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food.
Today, I’d like to challenge you to channel your inner gumshoe and write a poem in which you describe something with a hard-boiled simile. Feel free to use just one, or try to go for broke and stuff your poem with similes till it’s . . . As dense as bread baked by a plumber, as round as the eyes of a girl who wants you to think she’s never heard such language, and as easy to miss as a brass band in a cathedral.
Who is My Muse? Dew Drop-in
“There is no architect
Can build as the Muse can,
She is skillful to select
Materials for her plan”
Emerson the House
My muse
Is a strange one
A strange creature.
That hides deep in my mind
Coming out mostly at night
Whispering words of wisdom
In my nightly fantastical dreams.
Fragments of which
Haunt my mornings
As I try to recapture
The elusive fading memories
Of my nightly movie scripts
That plays on in my mind’s eye
In my private cinema.
I don’t dream mere dreams
I dream movies
And the director of my movies
Is the ever-elusive fairy queen
My eternal muse of beauty.
As I write my poems
And stories
She takes control
Leading me down
Dark rabbit holes
Where I fear to tread,
Encountering the dark demons
And the wild things
Of my imagination.
Who are waiting for me
Demanding I pay
For my entertainment.
I smile as my muse
Negotiates a way home.
And I wake up
And see that my muse
Sleeps on in the form
Of my wife
The love of my life.
That is the power
Of the queen of my heart
My eternal muse.
April 24—Text—Use A Short Quotation In Your Poem, Embedded Or As an Epigraph
The super nonsense man
Appeared one day
In our land.
He appeared on TV, tweeter
Facebook and everywhere
Spreading forth
Across the virtual universe
infecting everything with
One nonsensical conspiracy
After another.
Everything he said
Appear plausible, reasonable
Even desirable.
But it was complete nonsense
Lies based on lies
Wrapped up in lies
Hatred and mind-numbing fear
THEY were after you
To destroy America
He claimed.
All his false words
Designed to deceive,
To weaken the mind
And the spirit
of the gullible.
Who soon begin
Believing everything
The super nonsense man
Sprouted forth on TV.
No one wanted to fact check
No one believed the truth anymore
That was so old school it seemed.
Super nonsense man
Soon took over the world
And became what
Many had feared
Just another con man
Off to grift as much
As he can
From the land
Of the free
And the home of the brave.
Before leading
The alien invasion
Enslaving humanity forever.
In the end,
It did not matter
We all believed
The lies of
super-nonsense man.
And humanity became
Just another failed civilization
In a uncaring universe
For today’s prompt, write a superhero or supervillain poem. It’s OK to write a poem about an established hero or villain, like Thor, Green Lantern, or The Tick. But it would be more fun to have poems about lesser-known (as in, you just invented them) heroes and villains. People like The Recycler, Dr. Dirty Dishes, or the diabolical Pie Bandit. Save the day; wreck the day; but please, write a poem
Life is an endless dream, my friends
Life is an endless dream, my friends.
A dream that has no beginning and no ending
That flows down the rabbit holes
Of one’s mind to dark dangerous corners
Where the wild things do roam
A Metaphor Write a poem that is entirely made up of one metaphor.
3 room press prompt (for April 24th)
The poet dreams lost in memory
While the secret architect
His fairy godmother, his muse
Dances about his head making designs
The Sun and stars shining overhead
The poet finds himself alone
Watching God singing the blues
3 room press prompt (for April 24th)
For the first prompt, grab any book at all. Flip to a random page and scan, making a list of ten or more words that catch your eye. Write a single stanza poem that incorporates seven as end words, for a bonus write a sestina (six lines) poem that incorporates all words as end words.
Prompt words from Emerson ‘The House”
Poet
Memory
Architect
Muse
Designs
Sun
Stars
God
Sings
I Remember Writer’s Cramp
I remember it was in September
A date I shall always remember
For on that date I met my fate
Met the love of my life,
Who soon became my wife,
With such an impact
Looked at her every morning.
Déjà vu moments abound
her love a mirror image
Of my love for her.
When I was in high school
I had my first dream
The dream changed my life.
In my fevered imagination
I saw the most beautiful woman
In the universe speaking to me
She was a tall Asian woman
I knew that someday
Somehow I would meet her
It was my fate
Became my obsession
To find the girl
in the dream
It took eight years
Before I finally met her
On a bus in Korea
I met her
On the day
I was determined
To give up
To abandon this mad quest
To find the lady in the dream
That haunted my nights
That morning she came to me
Said
“don’t worry
We will be together soon”
She walked off the bus
That night
When I saw her there
I knew that it was her
And she knew it too
Two months later
She became my wife.
That was almost 40 years ago
Every day I recall the dream
Of how we first met.
Today’s (optional) prompt is based on the Aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An Aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country /in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which, a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live. Perhaps she will be the Madonna of the Traffic Lights or the Mysterious Spirit of Bus Stops. Or maybe the Lost Lady of the Stony Coves will address you. Whatever form your dream visitor takes,
Flies all green and buzzin’
In this dungeon of despair
Prisoners grumblin
Piss they clothes
Scratch their matted hair
A tiny light from a window-hole A hundred yards away
That all they ever get to know
‘Bout the regular life in the day
‘Bout the regular life in the day
Slime and rot and rats and snuck
Vomit on the floor
Fifty ugly soldier men
Holdin’ spears by the iron door
Stinks so bad, stones are chokin’
Weepin’ greenish drops
In the den where
The giant fire puffer works
And the torture never stops
The torture never stops, torture
The torture never stops
The torture never stops
Flies all green and buzzin’
In this dungeon of despair
An evil prince eats a steamin’ pig
In a tumbers right near there
In the chambers right near there
He eats de snouts and trotters first!
The loins and the groins are then dispersed
His carvin’ style is well rehearsed
He stands and shouts
All men be cursed (4x)
And disagree it, well no one durst
He the best of cause of all the woist
Best of cause of all the woist
He stinks so bad his stones been chokin’
Weepin’ greenish drops
In the room with the iron maiden
And the torture never stops, torture
Torture never stops
Torture never stops, torture
Torture never stops
Flies all green and buzzin’
In dungeon of despair
Who are’ll those people
That is shut away down there
Are they crazy
Are they sainted
Are they heroes someone painted
Someone painted
Are they -isms
Later ornated
Once they come they have been tainted
Once they come they have been tainted
Never been explained
Since at first it was created
But a dungeon and his kin’
Require naught but lockin’ in
Of any anything that’s been
Could be a her but it’s probly a him
Could be a her but it’s probly a him
Its what’s the deal were dealin’ in
Its what’s the deal were dealin’ in
An he stinks so bad it’s hurt
To the pearl and the piles of blast
Any dungeon has a trailer
Were the torture never stops, torture
Torture never stops
Torture never stops, torture
Torture never stops
Torture never stops, talkin’ to you
Torture never stops
April 25—Music—write a(nother) poem in response to a particular song or larger musical work (or to a jukebox situation connected to “drunken barroom layabouts” to quote Harlow Flick)
Broken Down Souls on the Street PSH
You see them everywhere
On the street
On the bus
On the metro
But mostly wandering the streets
Lost souls
Broken down defeated souls
The souls of the living dead
Dead inside
Waiting for death
To deliver them from the agony
Of the living,
They make do
They beg
They steal
They con their way,
Living the life
Living death
Broken Souls
You have two minds
One part of you
the fearful part of you
Conditioned to ignore,
Conditioned to walk by
Ingoing the tragic wounded lives
The broken souls all around you.
But part of you knows
That you cannot do that
But you can’t save everyone.
So you do what you can
You help those whom you can
All it takes is a little act of compassion
A little human kindness
A few bucks or a cup of coffee.
And you walk by
Knowing just knowing
That by a simple act of acknowledging
Our shared humanity.
You have made a small victory
And brought happiness
To yet another broken down soul.
And the fear
that you will be a broken soul
Recedes away
Not me never
Never will happen to me
But one forgets
It is a simple matter
A wrong turn in life
The wrong place wrong time wrong thing
And you could be the broken soul
On the street
Begging to be heard
Begging to be taken away
And so I walk on by no more
I will listen
I will talk to them
I will make a small difference
And in so doing
Avoid becoming a broken-down soul
Entering a Picture (Poetry from Visual Art) by Seretta Martin
Is it possible for a lesson to appeal to all ages from third grade through adult, beginner through advanced? Yes, this one does! I’ve taught it from elementary through high school, at museums, and senior centers. It stimulates the imagination in magical ways. The picture is a focal point for the poem to develop. The student has selected the image for some personal reason yet to be discovered in the writing of the poem. This lesson teaches attention to images, detailed descriptions, the senses, vocabulary research, and more. Sometimes it triggers memories or uncovers unexpected desires. The student’s imagination is stretched when prompted to crawl into the picture and become someone or something in that world. Start this lesson by using a projector to show and read a few successful model poems and show the pictures that were used. Read some of the poems yourself, then call on students to take turns reading. The model poems create excitement and show students how others have approached the lesson with stellar results. After each poem is read, comment on how the poet addresses aspects of this lesson. After writing paper and handouts are distributed, place a batch of pictures on each table. Give students 5 minutes or so to select a picture for their poem. Collect extra pictures so students can focus on the one picture that they have in front of them. You may want to also leave the lesson projected on the screen. Walk them through these steps:
Enter into the painting. Let your mind wander. Think about how you would describe it to a blind person. In your poem, you are going to paint a picture with words. As you write, pay close attention to details. Remember, a blind person needs lots of information to visualize the picture. What do you see in the painting? colors? patterns? figures? What do you feel? Write what first comes to mind. Does the art remind you of a memory? Does it remind you of a family member or a friend? Does it remind you of something you lost?
Describe the place (the setting) that you see in your picture. Is it a meadow? An attic? A candy jar. Your front porch? The edge of a volcano? Think about your five senses and use some of them for rich details in your poem. Describe smells, sounds, tastes, colors, and what things feel like to touch.
What is happening? Use action words. For example, perhaps the creature in your poem does some of these things: sings, growls, chomps, dives, leaps, flees, soars, glides, races, dances, or slouches. Make your poem come to life with colorful and unusual words. Avoid tired (worn-out words) that are overused and consult a Thesaurus.
What is not in the picture? Imagine what happened before, during, or after what you see. Crawl into the picture and become a person, animal, or object. Maybe you want to take a point of view as if you are speaking with someone in the picture and use dialog.
Now, ask yourself questions: Is my first line or stanza so interesting and grabbing that it will make the reader want to read the rest of my poem? Do I want to make my most exciting idea my first line?
Have I used words that paint a clear picture? Do I want to repeat any sounds or words to make my poem more musical? (lyrical) or to emphasize something?
How will you end your poem? Will you surprise us? Reveal a secret? Use an unexpected twist? End with a question? Do you want to leave the reader saying ah, or feeling sad, or what? Think of a unique title that makes the reader want to read your poem, but don’t give away too much of your poem in the title.
Time: 1 to 1.5 hours. More time allows for students to read and share their poem drafts and show their pictures on the projector as they read.
Materials: Pictures: postcards, greeting cards, pictures cut from magazines or calendars, cards from art galleries and museums, fine arts prints, etc., Thesaurus, projector, paper clips (To clip the picture to the poem at the end of the class session.) Posters of: The Senses, The Emotions, Worn-Out Words, Vocabulary, and Action Words. You may want to look up and print out model adult poems by famous poets such as White Wedding Slippers by Anna Swir, tr. by Czeslaw Milosz, The Starry Night by Anne Sexton, Cezanne’s Ports by Allen Ginsberg, Van Gogh’s Bed by Jane Flanders and Mourning Picture by Adrienne Rich.
Published in Poetry Crossing – 50+ Lessons for 50 Years of California Poets in the Schools, 2014.
Response to Watching the War Unfold Writers Digest
Every morning
dogs of war howling
For the last two months
I and millions of people
Have tuned into the unending drama
The trauma of watching the war coverage
In Ukraine as Russia continues their assault
Against their neighboring country
Their cousins as it were
Who dared to declare themselves
Independent from their former Russian overlords.
The world is amazed by the bravery
Of the Ukrainian people
And the plucky courage
Of their leaders
In defying Putin and his war machine.
Where this is headed
No one knows
But one thing is clear
In the end Putin and his evil
Will be defeated
Ukraine will recover
And the world
It will never be the same again
War has a way
Of changing things,
In unanticipated ways
And unknowable consequences
follow.
Once the dogs of war
Are released to wreak havoc
Against the people
Of the world.
The old song put it best
War has but one friend
The undertaker.
And in Ukraine
So many people have died
Becoming war ghosts.
Joining the corona ghosts
The gun violence ghosts
And all the ghosts
That are everywhere
these sad end-of times days.
their voices
crying in the wind.
For today’s prompt, write a response poem. Your poem could be in response to a popular poem by another poet, sure, but it could also be a response to a poem you wrote earlier this month. That’s how I’m coming at this prompt today.
God’s Confession Local gems
I was sitting alone in a dismal dark bar
In a godforsaken evil din of inequity
Somewhere on the lunatic fringes of society
Twenty drinks too sober
On the dismal wrong end
Of a Friday Night booze run.
Ended up in the infamous Cosmos Bar
On the bad assed wild side part of town
Over by the abandoned decrepit railroad tracks
I was surely heading down the highway to hell
As fast as I could drink it down.
Enjoying my lonely drink
Drinking by my lonesome self
With my partners
Jimmy Dean and the Walker brother
And his old Granddad.
Just drinking and hanging
With the Jack Daniel’s gang
Talking with Wild Turkey
and Evan Williams.
Yelling at the sweet young bartender
“Give me one bourbon
One scotch
And a beer”
She smiled as she always did
Had heard this request a thousand times
An old washed up smelly derelict
A crazed bum looking at me
With a thousand-year-old stare
Walks up to me
He begins muttering to himself
Nutty nonsense, crazy words
In a lunatic’s voice
He had the look
Of one possessed
By his own demons
That only he can see
Or hear
Possessed by a secret knowledge
Only he knew,
Despite myself
I was fascinated
By this lunatic’s tale
So I stopped him and said
“So crazy dude,
What’s your game, anyway?”
The short little dude
Stopped his insane prattle
Staring at me
With that thousand-year-old stare
Just another washed up
Crazed lunatic
Too many drugs
Some washed up LSD causality
Leftover from the ’60s
Too many bad nights
On the wrong side of life.
He looked at me
And proclaimed his story
He reared up
And filled up the room
And lifted the bar
On his finger.
And stared down at me
From the sky,
And said
Since you asked
I am God,
Jehovah, Allah
And a billion other names
The alpha and Omega
The real deal
The original dude of dudes
The Sultan of Swing
God of hosts
And the father
of that Jesus dude.
But no one knows me
Any more
No one cares
They think I am irrelevant
They think I am dead
They think I am a fairy tale
From some olden, ancient time
Some say I am dead
Others think I should be dead
That my work is done
I looked at him
Carefully now
And what did I see
An old man
With that lunatic look
thousand-year stare
But there was something else
He was crazy
Sure yes
But perhaps he was the real deal
I mean why not
Why would not God be
A lunatic wandering
around loose
Talking to low lives like me
In a bar on the highway to hell
So I looked at him
And invited him to share
His tale of woe
God tells me
“Well, it’s like this
Many a year ago
People believed in me
But one day
They quit believing in me
And they went on without me
As they left me
My powers got weaker and weaker
And so eventually I became
What you see today
A broken-down drunk
Hanging out
Looking for a handout
Looking for some company
Or at least a free dinner”
And he laughed and laughed
And I looked at him
And saw the beginnings of the end
And the ends of the beginnings
I saw a million planets
Flash by
A billion people
A trillion sentient beings
Thinking all at once
Cosmic thoughts filled my head
Lights flashed
And I knew
He was telling the truth
But it did not matter
In this day and age
Of materialism
God has no role
God is truly dead
And so I bought him a drink
And walked out of the bar
Profoundly saddened
by what I had seen
God was dead
And we had all conspired
To kill him.
Sam Adams one night
Met some space aliens
In the Cosmos Bar.
The first inter-planetary bar
Located in Berkeley, California
A known hangout for UFO nuts
And assorted true believers,
Where the sign
proudly proclaims
Aliens drink for free.
The alien asked Sam
To explain humanity
To them.
Sam said,
Sure. Here’s what makes us human
We are evolved from tribal apes
From distant Africa.
Conditioned by our God
Created in his image
According to his will.
We believe in family values
Except for when do not
Believe in such values.
More importantly than anything else
Is the search for love and happiness,
Few of us ever met our soul mates
We are always looking for the one
The one that will make us complete,
The aliens smiled, Said,
Well, that was interesting
But there is one thing
We can agree on,
You earth people
Sure are crazy
The craziest species
In the known universe.
But you make the best brew
And the best coffee
And play the best blues
In the universe.
Sam said,
Thanks, I’ll drink to that.
Last but not least, here is today’s prompt (optional, as always). It’s based on Faisal Mohyuddin’s poem “Five Answers to the Same Question.” Today, I’d like to challenge you to write your poem that provides five answers to the same question – without ever specifically identifying the question that is being answered.
Dew Drop inn
Sam Adams Met His Fate
Sam Adams
Often thought that his life
Truly began on September 7, 1982
When he met his Dreamgirl
Who walked out of his dreams
He has been having it since 1974
She walked out of his dreams
Into his life
Two months later
She became his wife.
Sam thought
When she became his mate,
That was the date
He had met his fate.
April 18—April 18 Prompt: “Stop! In the name of love, before you break my heart!”—write a poem where love turns everything around somehow, or stops a course of action, or stops everything!
Based on my true love story. See “Dreamgirl” postings on my web page, Dreamgirl re-published
It all began in Berkeley, California
In the springtime of 1974
One fateful afternoon
I was sleeping in my high school Physics class.
I looked up and saw a tall,
beautiful Asian woman
standing there looking at me.
She was the most beautiful women
in the universe to me
I screamed out, who are you?
She disappeared
as if she was beamed
away from my dream.
I knew that someday
I would meet the girl
In the dream.
Little did I know
I would have to wait until 1982
Starting that month
I began having the same dream
Month and month and month.
Always the same.
She was saying something
in a strange language.
Then one day.
I had the dream
and knew that
She was in Korea.
So, I chose to go
to Korea
In the Peace Corps,
Somehow knowing
That I would meet her there.
One day
A year after the Peace Corps ended
A month before I planned
to leave to return
to the U.S. for graduate school.
That morning early in the morning
I had the last of these dreams.
This time I understood her.
She said, “Don’t worry.
We’ll meet soon.”
That evening
As I was getting off the bus
To go to my class
I saw getting off the bus
The girl in my dream.
It was she!
I was speechless.
I did not know what to do.
Throughout the evening
I ran into her several times.
Finally, I was introduced to her.
I muttered some lame excuse
About wanting to find a Korean tutor
and got her number.
The next day she came to the gate
At my base where I was teaching
ESL to Koreans
She said that she
had to speak with me.
I told to wait in the library
for about an hour,
and I would cancel the class
and meet her then.
We went out for coffee.
She told me that she was madly
in love with me
And simply had to have me.
I told her I felt the same way.
I proposed five days later,
And got married one month later.
Does she believe this story?
She claims she does not believe it
Because it is impossible to be true.
But I know that there
are other worlds and other times.
In a past life
We must have been together somehow.
And our love was so strong
That it crossed over the barrier
of time and space.
She found me in 1974,
But it took until 1982
For us to meet.
And it has been 36 years
Since we met in the physical sphere
Or 45 years since the dream began.
And I still recall the dream
And meeting her.
I had no choice
When I met her
We were fated to be together,
Until the end of this lifetime
And the next and the next.
April 18, 2022: Poetry Writing Prompt – jake Aller
This poetry writing prompt submitted by jake Aller:
Write a poem about a premonition of something that would happen in your life, that came true. What was the premonition? How did it occur? How did it come true?
Example: I dreamt of meeting my wife eight years before I met her. I knew that the dream was a premonition of a future event. and in that case, my dreams did indeed come true.
We the People Will Wake Up Soon
gun
We the people someday soon
Will wake up and demand
That the government and society
Stop the gun carnage in our streets
Enough, no more gun madness
The people have had enough,
The NRA and their stooges
Will continue to insist
That the solution to gun violence.
Is more guns for everyone
Only then can we be free
From the fear of constant violence.
The only solution is for everyone
To be armed to the teeth
With the latest weapons of war.
Then we will all be afraid
Of each other
And no one will take a chance,
That the other will pull out
A gun to end their dispute.
The people have had enough
They are sick and tired
Of the constant fear.
And they don’t buy the NRA lies
Anymore.
In short,
It is time for the people
To stand up,
And demand an end
To the gun violence
In our streets.
Politicians are a craven lot
If the public speaks loud enough
They will do something
To shut them up.
Until that happens
Every day
We will watch
Another day of massive gun incidents.
Just ten more
This easter weekend alone
as I wrote this poem.
For today’s prompt, take the phrase “We (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: “We the People,” “We Want It Now,” “We in the Royal Sense,” and/or “We vs. Wii.”
“Don’t fall in love with me”
Sam Adams told his latest flame
Maria Lee
Whom he met at the Cosmos Club
In Bangkok, Thailand
She was a drop–dead gorgeous
Korean woman on the lam
From her husband
She smiled demurely
And said
“Don’t worry I won’t fall in love again
Already done that thing once is enough
But I could use a little loving
If that is okay by you.”
“Sure,” Sam Adams said.
Falling in love with her
Despite his spider–sense
Tingling red alert.
Today’s featured online journal is The Cortland Review, which has published nearly ninety issues over more than twenty years. In their newest issue, I’ll point you to Justin Janisse’s “Missing You, Expensively” and Grace Q. Song’s “Birthday.”
And now for our daily (optional) prompt! Today’s challenge is to write a poem that starts with a command. It could be as uncomplicated as “Look,” as plaintive as “Come back,” or as silly as “Don’t you even think about putting that hot sauce in your hair.” Whatever command you choose, I hope you have fun ordering your readers around.
Good Golly, Ms. Molly Rhyming Poem
Good Golly, Ms. Molly
Good golly
Ms. Molly
Let’s have some folly
And go to Bali
Or Raleigh
Someplace holly
strong>Where we can get jolly
Eating a tamale
Or a Canali.
April 19—Write a silly rhyming poem!
PSH prompt
Three poems about our times Legal
Three poems about our times Medical
Three poems about our time’s Energy
One the legal system faces challenges
In this day and age
Of fear of crime
Crime and punishment
Is everywhere
Hanging and lynching
No longer just historical terms
Judge and jury form the basis
Of our Legal systems
Based on Lies and truth
And justice is not free
Those that have money
Have justice
Those that do not
Face constant injustice
Two Medical Fears Abound
Every day I am afraid
Afraid I might get
The big Alzheimer’s
That took my mother
And my father-in-law
The dreaded cancer
That killed my father
And his father
Dementia that haunted my mother
Fibromyalgia that fills me with constant pain
Three Energy Blues
wind-turbine-11
The world needs energy
Needs renewable energy
Needs to get beyond
carbon-based energy
that is destroying the world
needs to end fracking
needs to end nuclear power
needs to seek the energy
of the future.
Look up an industry completely foreign to you. This could be anything: medical, timber, steel, tech/IT, cosmetics, coatings, pharmaceuticals, office supplies, etc. Pick one and generate a list of industry-specific jargon using a minimum of twenty-five words.
Pick three different industries, so your list is a minimum of 75 words (or phrases, phrases are okay). Write a poem that uses 1 word or phrase per line for the duration of the poem, however long you choose to make it. Mix industries! Write the poem in multiple parts!
This is a time-consuming exercise, but it’s a wonderful one because it so frequently spawns more than one poem, and the exercise is great at pulling writers out of their respective comfort zones.
Writers com
Writer’s Digests What’s Out There – Secret Societies
In Frederick Tennyson’s Atlantis (1888), an ancient Greek mariner sails west and discovers an inhabited island which is all that remains of the former kingdom.
Sam Adams, an old man
Recently returning to his hometown,
Was walking in the Berkeley Hills.
Ended up at Tilden Park
Where he had been hiking
Ever since he was a child.
He was hoping to getaway.
From all the turmoil,
The dismal news of the day
The constant chattering on his TV.
He was often lost in thought
Thinking back on his favorite books
Re-reading the classics
Of his youth.
He loved the Chronicles of Narnia
Often thought
That Narnia was real
That Oz was real
And that Middle earth
Happened as well.
And Harry Potter
Existed in an alternate universe
He imagined finding
Portals to other worlds.
While lost in thought
He came upon an unusual site
An open door in the air
With a note
Narnia is calling you.
He laughed having thought
About Narnia reality
All week long.
He jumped through the portal
Sam Adams disappearance
Remained a mystery.
April 20—Book report—subtly (or overtly) incorporate a book report or response into a poem about something else. (If you name the book, avoid spoilers!)
I like to start my day with a hot cup of coffee
I pound down the coffee
First thing I do every day as the dawning sunlight
Lights up my lonesome room
Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but God damn coffee
I mean, – we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, bitchy, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ass, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, erotic vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists, Zoroastrians, drinking my god damned coffee in Hell; growling, gnarly, happy, hard as ice, Hawaian blessed, high as a kite, hippie, hip, hipster, hip hoppy, hot as hell yet strangely sweet as heaven, jazzy, jealous, Kerouac approved, kick ass, kick my god damn ass to Tuesday, kick down the doors and take no prisoners, grown in the Vietnam highlands by ex Vietcong, Guatemalan grown, kiss ass, illegal in every state, imported from all over the god damn world, insane, lovely, loony, lonely, lonesome, malodorous mean old rotten, motherfucking, nasty, narcotic, never whatever, never meh, never cold, not approved by the CIA, not approved by DHS, not approved for human consumption by the FDA, not your daddy’s sissified corporate cup of coffee, NOT DECAFE coffee, not your Denny’s truck driver weak as brown water cup of fake coffee, not your establishment friendly cup of coffee, Not your FBI coffee, Not FAKE Herbal coffee substitute, but a real cup of coffee, not your farmer brothers dinner crap, not made in America for Americans, not safe for work, not your Starbucks average expensive overpriced crappy corporate chain cup of coffee, Not pretentious, Not White House approved, not State Department safe, nuclear, Not Patriotic, operatic, Peets’s coffee approved, paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11, the cup that JFK drank before he was blown away, the coffee Jerry drinks while driving in cars with random celebrities and political figures, the coffee that Jon Stewart drinks before he goes on an epic take down of some foolish politico, the cup of Arabic coffee that Sadaam drank the day he was executed, the coffee that GW and Cheney drank when they bombed Baghdad, the Indian cup of coffee that Bid Laden drank before 9-11 and just before the seals blew his ass to hell, the cup of coffee that Tiger Woods drank with his mistresses while playing a 3, 000 dollar round of golf at Sandy Lane golf course in Barbados, the last legal drug that does what drugs should do, the cup of coffee that Obama drank when he became President, Vietnamese, Vienna brew, wacky, whimsical, Whisky Tango Foxtrot, wild, weird, wonderful, WOW, Yabba dabba doo! Yada Yada yada Zappa’s favorite cup of cosmic coffee, and Zorro’s last cup of coffee, Good to the last drop rolled into one simple cup of hot coffee
As I pound down that first cup of coffee
And fire up my synaptic nerve endings with endless supplies
Of caffeine-induced neuron enhancing chemicals
I face the dawning day with trepidation and mind-numbing fear
I turn on the TV and watch the smarmy newscasters in their perfect hair
Lying through their teeth about the great success the government is having
Following the great leader’s latest pronouncements
I want to scream and shoot the TV
And run outside
Shouting “Stop the world.
I want to get off this fucking crazy planet”
The earth does not care a whit about my attitude
It merely shrugs and moves around the Sun
In its appointed daily run
And I sit down
The madness dissipates a bit
And enjoy my second cup
Of heaven and hell
In my morning cup of Joe/
And now for today’s (optional) prompt. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that anthropomorphizes a kind of food. It could be a favorite food of yours, or maybe one you feel conflicted about. I feel conflicted about Black Forest Cake, for example. It always looks so pretty in a bakery window, and I want to like the combination of cherries and chocolate . . . but I don’t. But how does the cake feel about it?
PSH prompt
To Friends I Have Lost Along The Way
If you have been around
As long as I have
More than 66 years
On this planet,
You would no doubt
Lost a few friends
Along the way
And family members too.
I recall all my friends
Who have left this mortal plane
Spending way too little time
in my life.
I recall Demel Tucker
My high school black friend
From the debate team
Who died of AIDS
All alone in the end.
I remember Jon Weber
My Austrian born college roommate
Who died of prostate cancer
At age 45,
We had lost touch
Over the years
Last saw him
In the 80s.
I recall Paul Simon
Who shared the visa line
With me in Korea
Went out for a walk
One morning
Did not come back.
I mourn Chris Richards
My boss in Bangkok, Thailand
We were due to have lunch
When he died of an heart attack
That morning.
I recall Julian Bartley
My boss in Seoul
Died in the terrorist bombing
In Kenya.
I recall Judy
From my days in Mumbai
Died suddenly too soon.
I recall my sister Inga
Who died of a mysterious illness
When she turned 45.
I recall my mother
Who died of Alzheimer’s
And my father
Who died of cancer.
And there were many more
And sadly, many more
Will join them
Before I leave this mortal plane.
The curse of getting old
I suppose.
This poetry writing prompt submitted by Joan Fingon:
Prompt word: remembrance
In this exercise, focus on writing about a specific loss of a loved one or dear friend, recent or from your past. What is the essence of your loss and how might you express and honor their memory? What did the individual mean to you?
To inspire your writing be guided by these words as an example…
Welcome to Cosmos’ annual April Poetry Madness. Last year I wrote 300 poems in one month, this year I will write less, as that was just way too much to deal with.
Today’s poems will be April 8th poems, followed by April 9th to 15th in separate postings, one per day.
I will post them as I write them, and try to update them every day or so. I will finish May 1 US time, as that will still be April 30 KST (Korea, where I currently reside.) Most will be G rated but a few may not be. I will try to label those or not post them. The topics will be wherever my mad muse takes me, and I usually don’t have a clue until I write them.
I will post here the poems I wrote based on prompts from NaPoWriMo, (the poetry’s world’s equivalence to the annual NaNoWriMo novel competition which I will enter again in November). Writers’ com’s Dew Drop-in, Poetry Super-highway, Writers Digest, and occasionally other prompts. I will write a few more each day, but not post them, as I need to build up more “unpublished poems” for future submissions.
Daily posting All poetry, Anchor, this blog, FB, Medium, PSH, Wattpad, Writing com, and Writer’s Digest.
I will post each poem, followed by the prompt, occasional author and notes, and photos. I will convert it to a podcast later, available on anchor, radio public, blog radio, Spotify, and elsewhere under the name “The World According to Cosmos: or Jake Cosmos Aller. See the following for more information on the podcasts.
At the end of the month, I will add up the total poems written this month, total posted, total not-posted, and total YTD.
I have found that this annual exercise has been a big help in helping me hone my craft as I am entirely self-taught except for having taken the Mod Po class several times. It helps me stretch my poetic muscles. It has been a lot of fun but a challenge.
He was an ex-University of Arkansas
and Dallas cowboy player
who had worked for the CIA
The agency fired him
for murdering enemies of the state
at home in contravention of agency rules,
but they retained
his services from time to time.
He supplemented his CIA payments
And bar income from money laundering,
drug smuggling, human smuggling
and other assorted crimes, big and small.
Big Daddy had lots of enemies
Many people wanted him dead
Relatives of his many victims
Of the covert wars, he waged
On behalf of his nation.
He had moved to Bangkok, Thailand
after running a bar and grill
in Little Rock for a few years,
He opened the Cosmos Bar
With the assistance of his manager.
Kuhn Lek, and her uncle
The police chief and his cousin
The biggest drug kingpin
In the northern triangle.
The Cosmos Bar
Became world-famous
The spot to go to in Bangkok.
Located in Soi Cowboy
It was an after-hours club
Secretly owned by the Thai police,
One of the few places
That served alcohol 24/7.
It was filled with
Criminals, drug dealers, government agents
Journalists, prostitutes, pimps,
spies, counter-spies, sex tourists,
tourists, undercover cops,
and assorted other low-lives,
From all over the known world.
Had the best looking woman
The best-looking travesties too,
The best beer, wine, and liquor list
In the city,
And the best burgers in town.
It looked like the Bar in Star Wars
Filled with probable human life forms
And perhaps a space alien or two.
Trouble Found Big Daddy
He was hoping to stay out of trouble
But one day trouble found him.
One day a mysterious Korean woman
Came into the bar asking for him
By his universal nickname
“Big Daddy”
Maria Lee was a Korean-American
Drop-dead gorgeous woman
Who was on the lam,
from her rich Korean husband.
She had one question for Big Daddy.
“The word in the Korean community
is that you are a man
Who knows how to launder money.
Can you launder 50 million dollars?”
“Hmm for a fee.”
“What’s the fee?”
“A night of wild sex with you.”
“Done, but only after the deed is done.”
She smiled sweetly.
He called his underworld contacts
and they laundered the 50 million dollars
and he gave her the bank receipt.
He had parked the money
in a Cayman Islands account.
That night
she honored her
agreement with Big Daddy.
The next morning
while drinking his cup of coffee,
She revealed that she had poisoned him
because she did not want anyone to know
about the transaction
and her affair with Big Daddy.
She smiled,
“Thanks, Big Daddy,
I liked last night,
You are a real stud, Big Daddy,
Perhaps that is why you are called, ‘Big Daddy’
But hey it is nothing personal, Big Daddy.”
After all,
it was just a business deal
in the end.
And that was
how trouble found Big Daddy.
Today’s prompt comes to us from this list of “all-time favorite writing prompts.” It asks you to name your alter-ego, and then describe him/her in detail. Then write in your alter-ego’s voice. Maybe your alter-ego is a streetwise detective, a superhero, or a very small goldfinch. Whoever or whatever your alternate self may be, I hope this prompt lets you stretch both your writing skills and your self-knowledge.
Watching Cats Fight in Incheon, NaPoWriMo
cat jpg
Watching two cats
Fighting alongside the sidewalk
In suburban Incheon New Airport Town.
Completely indifferent
To the humans walking around them
And the humans
were indifferent to the cats.
As they stood there fighting
And screeching at each other.
One orange one
One half-black-half-white one
Both middle age in cat years
As I sat there watching the cats
getting into it, I wondered
what they were arguing about?
But since I don’t speak cat
I didn’t know
All I know is they were screeching at each other
And almost looked like they were
about to attack each other
But one cat backed down
As the other cat stood their proverbial ground
If they were humans,
One would have pulled out a knife, or a gun
And someone would have been killed
But being mere cats
They stared at each other
And walked away.
But they kept glancing at each other
So, I knew the fight was not over
Merely postponed until a later hour.
Cats truly are the aliens
Who live among us humans
Or perhaps we are the aliens
Who live among the cats?
Creature—write a poem in the voice of some living creature that is not human.
Death of Big Daddy PSH
After Big Daddy was assassinated in Bangkok
His adult children arranged for his remains
To be brought back for a funeral
In his hometown of Little Rock.
Big Daddy, aka Sam Adams
was the man
who always had a plan.
He was an ex-University of Arkansas
and Dallas cowboy player
who had worked for the CIA
The agency fired him
for murdering enemies of the state
at home in contravention of agency rules,
but they retained
his services
from time to time.
After running a bar and grill
In Little Rock for a few years
He moved to Bangkok, Thailand
Where he opened the Cosmos Bar
With the assistance of his manager.
Kuhn Lek, and her uncle.
The police chief and his cousin
The biggest drug kingpin
In the northern triangle.
He supplemented his CIA payments
and bar income from money laundering,
drug smuggling, human smuggling
and other assorted crimes, big and small.
Big Daddy had lots of enemies
Many people wanted him dead
Relatives of his many victims
Of the covert wars, he waged
On behalf of his nation.
He was hoping to stay out of trouble
But one day trouble found him.
Big Daddy’s Funeral
The funeral was a big affair
Lots of people came to the funeral
Lots of people came to make sure
That SOB was indeed dead.
His children were hoping
To find out where his rumored
Millions of dollars were located.
Hoping that they could gain access
To the ill-gotten gains
Of his life of crime.
Big Daddy’s lawyer
Told them that his account info
Was one of many secrets
He had taken to his grave.
But they were now the owners
Of the Cosmos Club
Which was worth
millions of dollars.
His business partners were willing
To continue to run it
And send them 100 K each
For the year in royalties
Provided that they did not
Interfere in the management
Of the Cosmos Club.
They all agreed to the arrangement
And hired the lawyer
To track down the money.
The money was never found.
For his business partners
Had located it
And looted the account
Before anyone could find out.
April 8, 2022: Poetry Writing Prompt – Duane L Herrmann
This poetry writing prompt submitted by Duane L Herrmann:
“As the casket was lowered into the ground, the four adult children stood dry-eyed and looked at each other with knowing stares.”
Who was in the casket?
What did they know?
Did anyone else know?
What had the deceased done to them?
What will or did they do in response?
If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Super Highway Facebook Group.
#napowrimo #poetry
The Fog Local Gems
Fog in SF
Note: one of my oldest poems was written in 1972 when I was 16. Revised as a Cherita.
The Fog
The Fog
Rolls in and in.
And on forever
Till the end of time
Past where once stood proud San-San.
Now there is nothing.
But bones rolling in
Forever and ever.
Rotting in the blue sunlight
Turning in the yellow clouds
filling the air
With the stench
The fear
The feel
Of a people forever dead
Merging with the fog
Filling the air.
The fog rolls in and in
Laughing as the Sun
Sinks into the purple coated sky
Above the encrusted sky of time
With the people of the earth
Just another dead civilization.
