Here is an updated list of my Howling at the Moon poems, published on the wolf moon night.
Index
Howling at the Full Wolf Moon
Howling at the Moon Tanka
Secret Werewolf
Howling at the Blood Moon
On a Moonlit late-night
Howling at the Moon
Lunatic howling at the moon
One Crazy Moonlit Night
Full Moon Lunacy
The Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
Howling with the dancing moon
The Pink Super Moon
Wolves howling at the moon
Woman Howling At The Moon
Maria Lee Off Balanced Madness
Moonbeam
Articles
Howling at the Full Wolf Moon
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 the common
International language.
Began drinking
With their buddies.
the notorious
Jack Daniels Gang
Drinking with Mr. Daniels and his friends
Jim Baker, 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, W.L. Weller, Pappy Van Winkle,
and his Old Grand Dad.
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 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
The super blue moon
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
lovers in the moon light
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
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 CosmosBar in Soi Cowboy, Bangkok, and began drinking with his buddies, the notorious Jack Daniels Gang.
Drinking with Mr. Daniels and his friends, Jim Baker, 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, W.L. Weller, Pappy Van Winkle, and his Old Grand Dad.
Drinking one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.
Drinking it all down, barely noticing the naked ladies dancing on the stage. Kuhn Lek smiled sadly at him, 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
Pink Moon
In the middle
of the summer
in July,
midsummer madness
outside under the stars
the storm is abating.
The full moon comes out
The lunatic runs outside
Howling at the
strawberry moon.
Big Daddy Howls at the 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 Daniel’s gang
drinking my way to hell and beyond
just as fast as I could
Twenty damn drinks too sober
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
This writing was accepted
for publication in the
108 page perfect-bound ISSN# /
ISBN# issue/book “Sprung from Grief”
Down in the Dirt, v184
(the June 2021 Issue)Order the paperback book:
When I was young and foolish
Broke and stubborn
I hitchhiked across the USA
Started in Salt Lake City
Where my greyhound bus pass
Was stolen
The station manager
Could have helped me
But refused to do so
Threaten to call the cops
When I grabbed my bags Without the stolen tags
I said
Go ahead
But I am so out of here
Wondered about Salt Lake City
Went to a bar
Found I had to buy my booze
Next door
And they would mix it for me
Had to order food too
After a bloody Mary
And a burger
I walked about town
Saw the Mormon Temple
Finally about 3 pm
It was time to hit the road
Did not look back
Ended up in Cody Wyoming
Got a room shower
Steak beer
Using my rapidly depleted cash Spent 25 dollars
Money really went far
Back in those days
A band of professional
Communist agitators
Gave me a ride
To Des Moines
Lots of weed, booze
And politics later
Got off the road
Slept outside
Next day
A beautiful woman
Drove me to near Chicago
In a red mustang
Might have been
The girl in the song
Took it easy
Digging her vibe
She invited home
But was not sure
If her estranged husband
Would welcome me
So, I am being foolish
And inexperienced with women
Did not go to her place
And always regretted
That I had lost
My chance that day
Then on to Chicago
Several rides later
Visited friends
Hit the road again
A series of uneventful rides
With truckers
And others
And a week later
I ended in New York City
Slept along the way
In cars
In truck stops
In high way rest stops
Always moving
Always going
Non stop talking
And lots of free weed
And beer
And conversation
One more memorable ride
Occurred outside Albany
On my return to Chicago
A middle age creepy looking man
Picked me up
In a brand-new Cadillac
He was he said a dynamite deliverer
For the Mafia
Went to various places
To blow up shit
He hated a lot of people
Particularly hippies from California
And Jewish people
Looking at me to confirm
That I was both
I told him that I lived in New York
And had never been to California
And although I might have looked Jewish
As I what was called back in the day
A “Jewfro”
I was not Jewish
Many years later I discovered
That I am indeed part Jewish
But then I did not know
And I felt a bit of strategic information
Might keep me alive
Then I realized that he was just jiving with me
And we relaxed
And he pulled out some weed
And beer
And we mellowed out
But I believe that he really was with the mob
Perhaps not a dynamite dealer
A real made Italian made mafia member
By Chicago
I had enough
I called my Dad
Told him what had happened
Wanted a ticket home
And he sent me a ticket
And 500 dollars
And I went home
I told him I would tell him
My tales some day
But never did
I learned so much
About my fellow Americans
And the strange vibe
That was 1975
And now it is too late
But I wanted to finally
Tell the world
In India, several years ago
A man falsely claimed his brother
Was dead so he could inherit the family assets,
The dead brother had to fight
To be declared legally not dead
And contest the will.
“The Association of the Living Dead”
Became a movement
Of thousands of people.
For in India apparently,
It was a thing to declare
Your relative is dead.
While reading Charles Bukowski poetry
On the metro ride home
Listening to Buddha bar music
On my oh too hip IPod
I begin to see myself as I was
Over 30 years ago when I was merely a bit player
A minor character in a Charles Bukowski poem
A wild young underemployed intellectual
Hanging out in dismal bars and dives all over Asia and California
Hanging with disreputable women and drunks and drinkers
And characters out of his kinds of haunts
A mad poet bard of the underground
A drunken poet in a drunken bum show
That nightly played in his head
Then one day I met the women of my dreams
And went down a different path
A long slow path to respectability
And now 30 years later
I am no longer a wild man
I am still a poet at heart
But I am now also a bureaucrat
In a button down suite
Doing the people’s business
Working for the Government
I’ve become the Man
Sometimes I wonder
Would I have been better off
Going down that another path
Would I have ended up
Somewhere else
Doing something else
Would I have been as happy
Would I have been as successful?
There is no answer that satisfies
The longing in my heart
For that wild thing
That still lurks beneath
It’s civilized cover
And I know that I am still
A mad poet at heart
Railing against the injustice of the world
As I work day by day in the belly of the great beast of State
I recall the ancient Chinese saying,
“Confucian during the day while Taoist rebel at night”
Playing out in my head and nightly dreams
In the true American Upper class patrician tradition
I close the book and look out the window
Get off the train, and walk slowly home
And realize I had no choice
But to take the path that I’ve trodden on
And so I put aside my misgivings
And say goodbye to my “Bukowskian”desires
For another night of domestic contentment
Was it worth it all to take the conventional path
And not take the bohemian road to hell and back
I look at my wife and realize
I had no choice, had no choice
But to follow her to the ends of the earth
And beyond by her side as we walked our path
Of shared destiny
Goodbye Charles Bukowski wherever you are
May I meet you in a bar in the next life
And figure out where we should have gone
This writing was accepted
for publication in the
108 page perfect-bound ISSN# /
ISBN# issue/book “Prayers and Bullets”
Down in the Dirt, v181
(the March 2021 Issue)Order the paperback book:
If you’ve been around
If you’ve been around
As much as I have
Decades of memories
Fill up your brain’s hard drive
Remembering the dead
Misremembering the living
Seeing the past fly past
Everywhere you go
Thinking about things
You did and did not do
As your life begins to fade
Sinking into lost worlds past
Seeing the ghosts
Of all you knew
Whispering Soon you will
Be joining us
After every incident
Of mass gun violence
In the U.S.
Pictures emerge
Of the killers
Almost always white men.
Who stares out at you
With soulless dead eyes
Filled with hate, fear
And shear madness.
With the thousand-year stare
Of the madman
Who only hears
The voices in his head
Screaming kill them all
Kill them all.
And as always
They usually legally bought
The guns.
This case was a bit different
The gunman briefly had his guns
Taken away from him
And his 60 knives as well
Judged temporarily too crazy
To have a gun.
But the red flag law
Is not a permanent ban
As it should be.
And so he was able
To re-arm himself
With the best weapons
In the world
At a very affordable price.
Thanks to the NRA.
And so he was soon lost
Down the rabbit hole
Of insanity and probably drugs,
The lone sniper
A disgruntled young white man
In his 20’s
Sets up shop on top of a building.
He has a high-powered weapon
No doubt bought legally
An AR-15 the choice
Of the serious gun men everywhere.
And begins shooting
Into the July 4th parade
Killing six people
Injuring 30.
Before putting the gun down
And fleeing
Before the cops can find him.
The right-wing media
Goes to works
The pundits pontificate
24/7
It is not about the gun
It is about everything else
That is wrong with our society.
Guns don’t kill people
They proclaim
Guns are the price we pay
For our freedom.
Their demented answer
is more guns
More guns for everyone.
And sadly, nothing will be done
As the politicians offer
Useless thoughts and prayers
The gun ghosts don’t care
They are dead after all.
The madness will not stop
Until we figure out
How to stop
The killers in our midst.
There will be another shooting
No doubt before the day is done
Over 300 so far this year.
And that is just the way
It is in this day and age
Of America.
The land of the free
Home of the brave
And 400 million guns.
Note: I wrote this a year or so ago. This morning there was another mass shooting, this time at Brown University. Yesterday at Bondi Beach in Australia. The Australian Government promises to enact even stricter gun laws in response, in the US nothing but talk about prayers and thoughts for the victims, nothing can be done the politicians say. THe price of freedom is the occasional mass shooting according to the NRA.
My name, it is Nobody
No one cares who I am
I am just a nameless clone
In the cold unfeeling bureaucracy
Just one of the army
Of civilians who flood into and out of the city
Every day
A non-entity,
A ghost
A govbot
A cyber
A spook
A faceless automan
A bureaucrat
Just a grey suited cog in the machinery
And no one cares
No one knows who I really am
And I am legend
Everywhere and nowhere
Just the way this modern world
All shred of humanity
Crushed beneath
the cruel wheel of society
In the cold harsh world
There is no room anymore
For true human feelings
We are just robots,
clones, machines
And so I go to work
Put on my mask
And no one hears
my inner screams
And no one will ever care
My name, it is Nobody
No one cares who I am
I am just a nameless clone
In the cold unfeeling bureaucracy
Just one of the army
Of civilians who flood into and out of the city
Every day
A non-entity,
A ghost
A govbot
A cyber
A spook
A faceless automan
A bureaucrat
Just a grey suited cog in the machinery
And no one cares
No one knows who I really am
And I am legend
Everywhere and nowhere
Just the way this modern world
All shred of humanity
Crushed beneath the cruel wheel of society
In the cold harsh world
There is no room anymore
For true human feelings
We are just robots, clones, machines
And so I go to work
Put on my mask
And no one hears my inner screams
And no one will ever care
Order this writing that appears
in the one-of-a-kind anthology The Flickering Light
the Down in the Dirt Jan.-June 2019
issues & chapbooks collection book
(learn about this book, and order from Amazon online)
get the 366 page
Jan.-June 2019 Down in the Dirt
issue & chapbooks 6″ x 9″ ISBN# paperback book:
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 sun
Lights up my lonesome room
Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a God damn snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of 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 out side 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 dissipating a bit
And enjoy my second cup
Of heaven and hell
In my morning cup of Joe
get the 396 page poetry,
flash fiction, prose,
& artwork & photography
collection anthology
as a 6″ x 9″ ISBN#
paperback book:
Stairway To Heaven Bumper Sticker
Found Poem in Medford, Oregon
The fact
There is a stairway
To heaven
But a highway
To hell.
Tells you about
The expected traffic
Strangeness in the Air
There is a strangeness in the air
A sense of cosmic unease
Hangs silently in the purple crystalline sky
America woke up
And decided it was time
To quit following like lemmings
Over the Clift
As the pied piper chants
Stay the course, stay the course
We were like lemmings following him
Dying to save his wounded pride
Today there is that strange difference
In the air
As Americans woke up
And threw off their chains of fear
This writing was accepted for publication
in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# /
ISBN# issue/book “The Gravity
Of Imagination”
Down in the Dirt, v203 (1/23)
The fly on the wallpaper
In the CIA director’s office
Was not a real fly
He was an enemy spy drone
Secretly controlled remotely
Listening to all the secret conversations
Until the director smashed him
With a flyswatter
Then realized that it was a spy fly
He had dispatched to bug hell.
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
Hi there from Scars Publications (this letter is being sent from a bulk email address, so DO NOT REPLY to this Gmail address but to any scars.tv email address)… We wanted to let you know that Scars Publications released a 2025 annual collection book of select poetry, flash fiction, prose, & art from 2025 issues of cc’d magazine and Down in the Dirt magazine. Since your material was chosen from the past year of accepted materials for inclusion in this annual collection book anthology, we wanted to share this brand-new annual collection book, “Signs and Revelations”!
Links to see all the chosen writers and artists (and the titles of their work) in “Signs and Revelations”: https://scars.tv/2025collection/Signs_and_Revelations.htm
This is where you can also find out what material of yours appears in this annual collection book.
You can find this book online at scars.tv in multiple locations. Right now, it is linked on the main page at https://scars.tv, and it appears near the top of the list of choices on the books link (the book link is one click away from the main page, or also directly at https://scars.tv/books/) as well as at the “CD Books Sale” link with new releases at the top of the listing (direct link https://scars.tv/sale/) at Scars!
Also, by the end of the business week, or by Friday night CST, your writing in the writings section online will have a link to this collection book, so people can find links to this collection book on your writing pages in the writings section of http://scars.tv (at https://scars.tv/cgi-bin/framesmain.pl?writers)...
Links for ordering this collection book appear on all of the links above, and will also appear in the writings section, so any of your writing in this collection book will also see a link to this collection book in the writings section!
These books are available from Amazon in the U.S. & Canada, the U.K., Europe, Australia, and Japan. (The link above is for U.S. sales.)
The Scars Publication book link for what material of yours appears in this collection book, and if you’d like, order a copy today (I hear they make great Christmas gifts)… Again, thank you for being a part of the Scars Publications community!
Sidewalk poems are written in chalk on streets—sometimes during poetic celebrations or community events, other times more unstructured and graffiti-like. I’ve written a few myself, though not directly on the pavement!
In this post, I’ll share a real set of sidewalk poems found on the street near my summer home in Medford, Oregon, followed by a few of my own sidewalk-style poems from years past.
First, you’ll find a poetic intro, then the Medford sidewalk poem (somewhere between classic sidewalk poetry and graffiti, as it wasn’t officially sanctioned). After that, I’ve included photos of the sidewalk poems, my chalk-inspired pieces, and background information provided by Copilot on related poetic forms—found poems, concrete poems, sidewalk poems, blackout poems, and erasure poems—with links for further reading. I wrap up with a few final thoughts.
Enjoy!
Sidewalk Love Poems- Love on the Street
The other day
I came upon
The following sidewalk poem
On a street in Medford, Oregon.
My wife said
They had a fight.
I asked,
Do I need
To do sidewalk
Love poetry.
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
For you?
She said,
No need.
It is obvious
On your face
That you love me.
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Medford Sidewalk Love Poem (August 2025)
😍 Always
😍 True love
I love You
Twin Love
♥️♥️♥️♥️
Twin 😍 love
Come home
Twin Love
♥️♥️♥️♥️
Don’t give
up on us
Don’t Give Up On US
meant to be
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Meant to be
ment to be
For the Best You ever Had
For the Best You Had
I 👩❤️♥️♥️♥️👩 You
I miss you.
I love You
I love You
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
♥️♥️♥️
Come home
I miss you
Come Home
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Come Home
Bobo
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Jen 4 ever
sidewalk love poem1
My Sidewalk Love Poems
I was lost
And you found me.
You walked out.
of my dreams
And into my life—
And that made
All the difference
In the world.
My love is waiting,
Waiting for me
To return
From this trip.
She is the
most beautiful
Woman
in the world.
Have you seen her—
My Angela Lee?
Tell her I love her.
Tell her.
I will be home.
I am coming.
back to her.
Co-Pilot Backgrounder
📚 Found Poetry
Found poetry is created by rearranging existing texts—from books, articles, speeches, or even street signs—into poetic form. It’s like a literary college.
The poet doesn’t write original words but selects and reshapes existing ones.
Found poetry includes several sub-categories: blackout poetry, cut-up poetry, and erasure poetry.
🕶️ Blackout Poetry
Blackout poetry is made by blacking out words from a printed page (like a newspaper or book) to reveal a new poem.
Uses a black marker to obscure unwanted words.
The remaining visible words form the poem.
Often emphasizes visual design and minimalism.
Example:
Tyler Knott Gregson:
“In my solitude I became aware of lack.
Lie near me in the starlight, quiet and free.”
Sidewalk poetry is poetry displayed in public spaces, often on sidewalks, driveways, or parks. It’s designed to delight and surprise pedestrians.
Created with chalk or etched into concrete.
Often part of city art programs or community projects.
Combines literature and visual art, sometimes with illustrations or creative lettering.
Example:
From Saint Paul’s sidewalk poetry contest:
“Though I worry that everything I held true and firm as rock
Will crumble under my feet—
I can’t forget: no paper, pen, or marble engraved
Can change the fact of my heart…”
Sidewalk Poetry: Reflection, inspiration, public art
Tone:
Graffiti: Bold, rebellious, expressive
Sidewalk Poetry: Gentle, poetic, contemplative
Audience:
Graffiti: Urban passersby, subcultures
Sidewalk Poetry: General public, pedestrians
Final Thoughts
Note: The Medford sidewalk poems were chalk-marked on the street—not spray-painted—and likely not sanctioned by the city. So, they linger somewhere between sidewalk poetry and graffiti—a little rogue, a little romantic.
Whoever left them, I hope the message landed. And best of luck to the couple behind it. As an incurable romantic, I fully endorse this kind of public love. The world could use more of it. After all, love makes us bold—it makes us scribble mad sidewalk poems in the middle of the night.
Have you stumbled across a chalked confession or a poetic whisper on the pavement? Or maybe you’ve penned one yourself? Share your sightings, your verses, your stories. Let’s turn sidewalks into storyboards—one love poem at a time.
I am again entering the April Poetry challenge and will write every day and post once a week or so
I will not post everything, some I will withhold for possible publication, others I will withhold because they are too politically sensitive in these politically charged times. I will post the poems followed by the prompts. I am writing four poems per day following prompts in NaPoWriMo, Writer’s Digest, Poetry Superhighway, and Writing.com’s Dew Drop In.
I will post them once a week here and on Substack, Medium, Wattpad, and as a podcast on Spotify. I will also post them every day on Fan Story.
Hello, everyone. There’s just three days to go until April 1, and the official beginning of National/Global Poetry Writing Month. We expect you have all been spending March deep in the woods, in your personal poetic meditation huts, readying yourselves physically and mentally for the demands of writing a poem a day.
Well, no! But we do trust that you are feeling hopeful and excited about the challenge. We’ll be back tomorrow with some another little pep-talk, and on March 31, we will present our early-bird prompt – suitable for those who just can’t wait to get started, and those for whom April comes a little earlier (given the vicissitudes of the international date line) than it does to Na/GloPoWriMo’s east-coast-US headquarters.
Well, well — it’s the Ides of March, and that means that we’ve got just two weeks and some change until April 1, and the start of National/Global Poetry Writing Month.
This year, our (optional) prompts will be focused on encouraging you to write poems that engage with art and music. We’ll be back in the three days leading up to the beginning of our yearly challenge, but in the meantime — and with the art world in mind — why not check out Bloomberg Connects? It’s an app that lets you virtually visit museums all over the world!
On March 1, 2025
Hello, fellow versifiers! It’s March 1, and that means we’re just a month away from another National/Global Poetry Writing Month.
We here at Na/GloPoWriMo headquarters are hyping ourselves up for this year’s challenge. As usual, every day we’ll be featuring a participant , giving you a link to some kind of poetic inspiration, and providing a totally optional prompt.
If you’re new to Na/GloPoWriMo, the idea is simple. Just write a poem every day for the month of April. There are no prizes (other than the sublime glory of writing thirty poems), but there is a whole lot of fun. And participation couldn’t be easier. Just write a poem a day. You can write using our prompts — or not. You can write in English — or not. You can post your poems on your blog or website for everyone to see — or not. But if you do plan to post them and you’d like us to link to your website, you can use the “Submit Your Site” button above to be taken to a wee form that will let you input your site information. And if you want a little button/badge to put on your website, here are some for this year:
So, you may be thinking, all this sounds fine, but what happens if I miss a day? Simple. YOU GO TO POETRY JAIL. No, we’re kidding. There is no poetry jail. Just catch up — or not. Just as there are no prizes, there are no punishments in the world of Na/GloPoWriMo.
And if you’re interested in communicating with fellow Na/GloPoWriMo-ers, it’s as easy as clicking on the title of each day’s post. Doing so will take you to a page with a comment section for that post. This is a great place to paste links to your daily output during Na/GloPoWriMo, and to find other participants’ poems.
We’ll be back on the 15th of March, as we get closer to April 1! If you have questions in the meantime, please contact us at NaPoWriMo AT Gmail DOT com.
Well, we suppose it was inevitable, but yet another Na/GloPoWriMo has come and gone.
We’re grateful to all who participated, but a special shout-out to all of you who cheered each other on in the comments on each day’s posts and in our Facebook group, helped each other out with questions, and acted as guides, helpers, and resources during the month. A truly special community forms each year around this project, and we are moved every year not only by seeing familiar faces return, but by seeing how those familiar faces’ generosity encourages new participants to become familiar faces in turn.
Our final featured participant for the year is barbaraturneyweilandpoetess, where you’ll find Medusa consulting with her attorney (Mr. Ovid) in response to Day 30’s mythical prompt.
As usual, all of this year’s posts and comments will remain up and available for your perusal now and into perpetuity. We’ll also leave this year’s list of participants’ site up until we begin our housecleaning early next year in anticipation of NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2025.
Thanks again for your creativity, your care, and your insight. We’re truly blessed to spend each April in a welter and whirlwind of verse. We hope to see you next April . . .
Happy Tuesday, all, and Happy April 1. Today marks the start of another National/Global Poetry Writing Month!
If it’s your first time joining us, the process is quite simple. Just write a poem every day during the month of April. 30 days means 30 poems. We’ll have an optional prompt every day to help you alone, as well as a resource. We’ll also be featuring a participant each day. And if you’re interested in looking at other people’s poems, sharing links to your daily efforts, and/or cheering along, a great way to do that is by clicking on the title of each day’s post. That will take you to a page with a comment section for the day.
But now, let’s get started!
Today’s featured participant is fitoori_scribes, where the self-portrait poem written in response to our early-bird prompt brings us some lovely similes and a nice play on “silver” and “sliver.”
This year, our daily resources will take the form of online museum collections and exhibits. Hopefully, you’ll find these to be at least entertaining, and you may even be able to use some of what you see as inspiration for your poems – particularly given that our prompts this year will all be themed around music and art. Today’s resource is the Getty Museum’s online exhibit on the Florentine Codex, a 16th-century sort of encyclopedia created in Mexico by a Franciscan friar and a group of Nahua elders, authors, and artists. All twelve books are presented page by page, with translations into English. You can also look at individual illustrations. It’s really quite rich and wonderful.
And now, to round out our first day, here’s our optional prompt! As with pretty much any discipline, music and art have their own vocabulary. Today, we challenge you to take inspiration from this glossary of musical terms, or this glossary of art terminology, and write a poem that uses a new-to-you word. For (imaginary) extra credit, work in a phrase from, or a reference to, the Florentine Codex.
Welcome back for Day 2 of Na/GloPoWriMo. We hope your first day of writing poetry only left you wanting more.
And here is that more!
First, a little bit of housekeeping. If you’re interested in receiving the daily prompts by email, look for the little “Subscribe” button toward the bottom right of the page. This is something we’re testing out for the very first time, so bear with us if it’s a little wonky!
Our featured participant today is off the lined page, where the response to Day One’s glossary prompt brings us a brings us not just musical terms, but vibrant images and a whirling sense of movement.
Today’s daily resource is the online collection of the Georgia O’Keeffe museum in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The museum’s wide-ranging and eclectic collection includes not only at images of O’Keeffe’s famous paintings, but pictures of things that she owned, photos of her, etc. I’m not sure what particular use there is to me (or you) in knowing that Georgia O’Keeffe owned a McIntosh 240 6L6 Stero Tube Amplifier, but here is the very amplifier in question! Perhaps you’ll find more inspiring this painting of a clam and mussel shell nestled together, which reflects the blend of minimalism, spareness, and sensuality that is characteristic of her work.
And now for our daily prompt – optional, as always. Anne Carson is a Canadian poet and essayist known for her contemporary translations of Sappho and other ancient Greek writers.
For example, consider this version of Sappho’s Fragment 58, to which Carson has added a modern song-title, enhancing the strange, time-defying quality of the translation.
And just as many songs do, the poem directly addresses a person or group – in this case, the Muses. Taking Carson’s translation as an example, we challenge you to write a poem that directly addresses someone, and that includes a made-up word, an odd/unusual simile, a statement of “fact,” and something that seems out of place in time (like a Sonny & Cher song in a poem about a Greek myth).
April 3
Why I am not a Musician
piano
When I was a young lad
I had delusions
That I could be
A professional composer.
I liked the romantic era
Composers the best.
But I also liked
A lot of avant-garde music
Such as John Cage
Harry Patch
electronic music.
And loved Frank Zappa
And funk music too
Tower of Power rocks
Classic blues tunes.
World fusion jazz music
Like “Kitaro”
“Hiroshima”
“Sun Ra”
And later Euro trance
Buddha bar music too.
My delusions
Cruelly crushed
When I got accepted
To Oberlin Conservatory
But failed to pass
My mandatory freshmen classes
Including Singing!
My GPA was also sub-par
Oh well, I said
That ends my musical career.
Transferred to UOP
Studied political science
Eventually, after a few years detour
Peace Corps, teaching ESL
Graduate school
Teaching ESL and Political Science
I got into the US Foreign Service
Serving in ten countries
All over the world.
Retired, started blogging
And getting some of my work published
In journals here and there
Lately been playing the piano a lot
Still dreaming I can write
A classical music masterpiece
A collection of poetry
Short stories
And of course
The Great American Novel….
Time keeps marching on, and so does Na/GloPoWriMo. And so, lo and behold, we find ourselves three days into our poem-a-day challenge.
Our featured daily participant is small burdens, where the response to Day Two’s Anne-Carson-inspired prompt is brings us an endearing little portrait/ode, and the lovely made-up word “flower some.”
Today’s daily resource is the online art collection of South Korea’s National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art. My own art history education is woefully catch-as-catch can, and the little I know of modern art is very much focused on American and European artists. So it was a treat to browse through a collection that is focused almost entirely on modern and contemporary art from outside those areas. I found particular pleasure in looking at Lee Hangs Ung’s prints, including this 1986 print of a poem in French by Katia Granoff.
Comment: A great museum in Seoul. They have three branch musuems as well.
And now for our (optional) prompt. The American poet Frank O’Hara was an art critic and friend to numerous painters and poets In New York City in the 1950s and 60s. His poems feature a breezy, funny, conversational style. His poem “Why I Am Not a Painter” is pretty characteristic, with actual dialogue and a playfully offhand tone.
Following O’Hara, today we challenge you to write a poem that obliquely explains why you are a poet and not some other kind of artist – or, if you think of yourself as more of a musician or painter (or school bus driver or scuba diver or expert on medieval Maltese banking) – explain why you are that and not something else!
Hello, all, and welcome back for the first Friday of Na/GloPoWriMo 2025.
Our featured participant today is Marilyn Letts, whose response to Day Three’s “why I am not a . . . ” prompt is full of wordplay, and wonderfully lyrical.
Today’s daily resource is the online exhibitions page of the International Folk Art Museum. I have a particular predilection for folk art, in which the strange and boisterous so often finds itself going hand-in-hand with practical objects of daily use. But the museum also showcases work of other sorts, like 100 Aspects of the Moon, a series of woodblock prints completed by the Japanese artist Taisa Yoshitoshi shortly before his death in 1892.
Last but not least, here’s today’s (optional) prompt. In her poem, “Living with a Painting,” Denise Levertov describes just that. And well, that’s a pretty universal experience, isn’t it? It’s the rare human structure – be it a bedroom, kitchen, dentist’s office, or classroom – that doesn’t have art on its walls, even if it’s only the photos on a calendar. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own poem about living with a piece of art.
April 5
Breaking Up with the Vampire Chick
Vampire
Joe Lewis played
In a rock band
He played lead guitar
Louder than possible
As he played
In a punk band
In SF
One day he wrote
An anthem to break up
For his girlfriend
Who he found out
Was actually a vampire
She had not yet
Turned him into one
But it was a matter
Of time
His breakup anthem
“Breaking up
With the Vampire chick”
Became a huge hit
His vampire girlfriend
Came to the concert
That night she bit him
And he became a vampire
And had to quit the band.
Happy Saturday, all, and Happy Day Five of Na/GloPoWriMo.
Today’s featured participant is Moonworld, where the response to Day Four’s “living with a painting” prompt brings us humor and insight in equal measure.
Our featured resource for the day is the online collection of Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. There’s much to explore here, but just to get you started, why not peruse their images of beautifully designed and varied musical instruments, ranging from a guitar shaped like the moon to a rattle in the form of a bird that is peering suspiciously at any potential wielder?
Finally, today’s (optional) prompt is inspired by musical notation, and particularly those little italicized –and often Italian – instructions you’ll find over the staves in sheet music, like con allegro or andante. First, pick a notation from the first column below. Then, pick a musical genre from the second column. Finally, pick at least one word from the third column. Now write a poem that takes inspiration from your musical genre and notation and uses the word or words you picked from the third column.
“with a hint of frenzy”
power ballad
sharks
“the joy is gone”
jazz fantasia
nonsense
“smugly saying ‘yeah, I’m better than you’”
folk song
roses
“literally go nuts”
march
departures
“play terribly”
chamber music
bones
“deliciously”
symphony
infield
“about to burst”
aria
concrete
“crazy eyes here”
overture
butterflies
“fade out like my hairline”
interstitial
wool
“like you’ve been hit by an arrow”
musk
vanilla
“louder than possible”
breakup anthem
vampire
“with contempt for imported convertible sports cars”
rumba
shadow
“like a naughty, naughty boy “
waltz
monument
“lord have mercy”
outlaw country classic
clock
“improvisatory screaming”
death metal
moonlight
“tempo di murder”
novelty song
centaur
“as roughly as possible”
fugue
pool
“gradually becoming a disaster”
yacht rock
hollyhocks
“play like you are about to start crying”
tango
chain
“obliterate the choir”
hymn
banquet
“like 100 tin cans falling out of a Volvo”
dubstep
snow
Hat tip to the sadly now-defunct Twitter account Threatening Music Notation for many of the phrases above!
Writer’s Digest
2025 April PAD Challenge: Guidelines
Announcing the 18th annual April Poem-A-Day Challenge on Writer’s Digest. Here are the guidelines for this fun annual poeming challenge that starts on April 1.
While the world feels as chaotic as it’s ever been recently, some things stay the same. For instance, it’s that time of year when poets around the world need to prepare themselves for daily poeming in April!
In less than a month, we’ll start meeting here every day to poem for the 2025 April Poem-A-Day (PAD) Challenge. Past participants have included poets from the United States, Canada, Mexico, Spain, Germany, India, Japan, Australia, United Kingdom, South Africa, and several other countries.
I’ve run into teachers and students who’ve used the challenge as a way to work poetry into the classroom. I’ve heard from published poets with multiple collections that contain poems inspired by the prompts in these challenges. I’ve also heard from poets who wrote their first ever poems in response to these challenges—and still other poets who’ve claimed the challenge helped rekindle their love of poetry when they thought it was dead. So I know this challenge is equally for beginning and established poets, because it’s a springboard—a way to get started.
For me personally, I’ve written more than a thousand first drafts from the various prompts on here (and I tend to write even more poems on the site that I don’t share on the site). I hope you’ll join me this year.
What is the April PAD Challenge?
PAD stands for Poem-A-Day, so this is a challenge in which poets write a poem each day of April. Usually, I’ll post a prompt in the early morning hours (Atlanta, Georgia, time), and poets will write a poem in response.
Some poets share those poems in the comments on each particular post; others keep their words to themselves. I don’t require comments to participate, but it does make it more fun when poets are sharing with each other.
Who can participate?
Anyone who wants to write poetry—whether you’ve been writing all your life or just want to give it a shot now, whether you write free verse or traditional forms, whether you have a certain style or have no clue what you’re doing. The main thing is to poem (and yes, I use poem as a verb).
I should also note that I’m pretty open to content shared on the blog, but I do expect everyone who plays along in the comments to play nice. There have been moments in the past in which I’ve had to remove or warn folks who got carried away a little with negative and attacks. My main goal is to make the challenge fun for all—and a safe space to poem.
(That said, please send me an e-mail if you ever feel like someone is crossing the line. I don’t want to act as a censor, don’t use me in that way—but I do want to make sure people aren’t being bullied or attacked in the comments.)
Where do I share my poems?
If you want to share your poems throughout the month, the best way is to paste your poem in the comments on the post that corresponds with that day’s prompt. For instance, post your poem for the Day 1 prompt on the Day 1 post in the comments.
You’ll find folks are pretty supportive on this site. And if they’re not, I expect to be notified via e-mail.
Note on commenting: If you wish to comment on the site, go to Disqus to create a free new account, verify your account on this site below (one-time thing), and then comment away. It’s free, easy, and the comments (for the most part) don’t require manual approval. That said, I will be checking daily during the month of April (just in case any comments are flagged as pending or spam).
Here are some more April PAD Challenge guidelines:
Poeming begins April 1 and runs through May 1 (to account for time differences in other parts of the world—and yes, poets all over the world participate).
The main purpose of the challenge is to write poems, but I also will attempt to highlight my favorite poems of the month from poets who post their poems to each day’s blog posts. Some years this works out better than others.
Poem as you wish, but I will delete poems and comments that I feel are hateful. Also, if anyone abuses this rule repeatedly, I will have them banned from the site. So please “make good choices,” as I tell my children.
Other rules, questions, concerns, etc?
If you need any other questions answered, put them in the comments below, and I’ll revise this post as needed.
Other than that, I can’t wait to start poeming in April!
April 1
The best of Times and the Worst of Times
We are living in strange times
We are living in Sci-fi universe
The best of times in a way
With the AI and robotic revolution
Changing everything
Lots of good things
-= medical research, another research
Including climate change all now available
For everyone to use
Easier than ever to do basic research
Good for writers and students
Driverless vehicles coming
Domestic robot help
Life extension soon
A reality
Perhaps cures for cancer
And other disease?
And climate change?
Lunar and martian
Colonies coming?
But on the other hand
The worst of times
May lie ahead
Massive unemployment
Due to AI and robotic revolution
Climate change on super steroids
out of control
Perhaps even a
Civilization Ending event
Humans may have to move
Into underground cities
Or Domed Cities
As the entire world
Bake in Death Valley temperatures
Along with monster storms
All the time.
And most importantly
The possible return
Of the great depression
Or at least stagflation
And the US may be slipping
Down the path of becoming
Another failed illiberal democracy.
For the 18th year in a row, it’s time to rhyme (or not rhyme, because not all poems rhyme, but I wanted to start off with a rhyme) with the 2025 April Poem-A-Day (or PAD) Challenge. And for this year’s challenge, the first prompt of the April PAD Challenge is a “two-for-Tuesday” prompt.
For the first Two-for-Tuesday prompt:
Write a “Best of Times” poem and/or…
Write a “Worst of Times” poem.
Yes, because it’s the opening prompt of this challenge, I pulled today’s prompt from the popular opening of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”
Write a poem about the “best of times,” “the worst of times,” and/or “the everything Est of times.”
2025 April PAD Challenge: Day 2
Looking out My Window at the Fake Gimpo Canal
Gimpo Canal
I live in a high-rise apartment building
In Gimpo Korea
Looking out my window
I see the fake Venice Grand Canal
I see people walking most days
And I joined them
I am one of the few foreign faces
In a primarily Korean neighborhood
Sometimes I wonder how and why
I ended up here
But most days
I write a bit
Play the piano a bit
I go to the gym
Take my walk
Endlessly
Debate
the news
With my wife
Go out for a meal
Now and then
And realize
I am doing great
For a 69-year-old man
And life can be wonderful
As long as I have
The love of my wife
By my side.
Write a poem a day with the 2025 April PAD Challenge. For today’s prompt, write a “from where I’m sitting” poem.
For today’s prompt, write a “from where I’m sitting” poem. This is a core poetry prompt I like to use from time to time, and it’s really an observation prompt. From where you’re sitting (or standing) at this moment, find something, someone, etc., that interests you and write a poem. In the past, I’ve written poems about people at the laundromat, inanimate objects (like one about the anatomy of a pencil), and animals I see outside the window of my office. So take a look around and start poeming.
Day 3 Short forms to try
DOGE Cutbacks Loom Lune
DOGE Cutbacks Loom
The U.S. launches trade war
Great Depression 2.0 fears
Well, I always say that people who make it through the first three days have the best chance of making it through the entire month. So, let’s do this!
For today’s prompt, write a short poem. In my mind, I’m thinking of a poem that’s like 10 lines or fewer, but there are other ways to come at this one (in other words, don’t limit yourself to my thinking). The poem could be about a short person or object. Also, I wasn’t thinking about the stock market when I made my list of prompts, but hey, maybe there’s a poetic stockbroker up to the challenge.
Also, getting back to what I was thinking, here are a few short poetic forms poets can try if they’d like:
Lune. A three-liner, also known as the American Haiku.
The lune is also known as the American Haiku. It was first created by the poet Robert Kelly (truly a great poet) and was a result of Kelly’s frustration with English haiku. After much experimentation, he settled on a 13-syllable, self-contained poem that has 5 syllables in the first line, 3 syllables in the second line and 5 syllable in the final line.
Unlike haiku, there are no other rules. No need for a cutting word. Rhymes are fine; subject matter is open. While there are less syllables to use, this form has a little more freedom.
There is a variant lune created by poet Jack Collom. His form is also a self-contained tercet, but his poem is word-based (not syllable-based) and has the structure of 3 words in the first line, 5 words in the second line and 3 words in the final line.
I recently discovered a poetic form called shadorma (thanks to P.J. Nights via Tammy Trendle) that I had no record of in my two poetic form handbooks. Shadorma is a Spanish 6-line syllabic poem of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable lines, respectively. Simple as that.
April 5
After the Next Election Triolet Poem
After the next election,
A blue wave sweeps the land,
the U.S. goes in a new direction.
After the next election
the people take a stand
After the next election
A blue wave sweeps the land
A (first line)
B (second line)
a (rhymes with first line)
A (repeat first line)
a (rhymes with first line)
b (rhymes with second line)
A (repeat first line)
B (repeat second line)
Our first weekend of April. Let’s keep the poems rolling.
For today’s prompt, take the phrase “After (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: “After Hours,” “After a Good Movie,” “After a Quick One,” “After the Encore,” and/or “After a While.”
Triolet. The French eight-liner I used on Day 1 of this challenge.
Today, we’re going to look at the triolet (TREE-o-LAY), which has 13th century French roots linked to the rondeau or “round” poem. For over a year now, I’ve been trying to find a way to use the repetitive line heard so often in airport terminals: “The moving sidewalk is about to end.”
The triolet is perfect for this kind of repetition, because the first line of the poem is used 3 times and the second line is used twice. If you do the math on this 8-line poem, you’ll realize there are only 3 other lines to write: 2 of those lines rhyme with the first line, the other rhymes with the second line.
Here’s a diagram of the triolet:
A (first line)
B (second line)
a (rhymes with first line)
A (repeat first line)
a (rhymes with first line)
b (rhymes with second line)
A (repeat first line)
B (repeat second line)
For some more on the triolet, check out the following links:
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
As President Trump seeks to purge the federal government of “woke” initiatives, agencies have flagged hundreds of words to limit or avoid, according to a compilation of government documents.
accessible
activism
activists
advocacy
advocate
advocates
affirming care
all-inclusive
allyship
anti-racism
antiracist
assigned at birth
assigned female at birth
assigned male at birth
at risk
barrier
barriers
belong
bias
biased
biased toward
biases
biases towards
biologically female
biologically male
BIPOC
Black
breastfeed + people
breastfeed + person
chestfeed + people
chestfeed + person
clean energy
climate crisis
climate science
commercial sex worker
community diversity
community equity
confirmation bias
cultural competence
cultural differences
cultural heritage
cultural sensitivity
culturally appropriate
culturally responsive
DEI
DEIA
DEIAB
DEIJ
disabilities
disability
discriminated
discrimination
discriminatory
disparity
diverse
diverse backgrounds
diverse communities
diverse community
diverse group
diverse groups
diversified
diversify
diversifying
diversity
enhance the diversity
enhancing diversity
environmental quality
equal opportunity
equality
equitable
equitableness
equity
ethnicity
excluded
exclusion
expression
female
females
feminism
fostering inclusivity
GBV
gender
gender based
gender based violence
gender diversity
gender identity
gender ideology
gender-affirming care
genders
Gulf of Mexico
hate speech
health disparity
health equity
hispanic minority
historically
identity
immigrants
implicit bias
implicit biases
inclusion
inclusive
inclusive leadership
inclusiveness
inclusivity
increase diversity
increase the diversity
indigenous community
inequalities
inequality
inequitable
inequities
inequity
injustice
institutional
intersectional
intersectionality
key groups
key people
key populations
Latinx
LGBT
LGBTQ
marginalize
marginalized
men who have sex with men
mental health
minorities
minority
most risk
MSM
multicultural
Mx
Native American
non-binary
nonbinary
oppression
oppression
oppressive
orientation
people + uterus
people-centered care
person-centered
person-centered care
polarization
political
pollution
pregnant people
pregnant person
pregnant persons
prejudice
privilege
privileges
promote diversity
promoting diversity
pronoun
pronouns
prostitute
race
race and ethnicity
racial
racial diversity
racial identity
racial inequality
racial justice
racially
racism
segregation
sense of belonging
sex
sexual preferences
sexuality
social justice
sociocultural
socioeconomic
status
stereotype
stereotypes
systemic
systemically
they/them
trans
transgender
transsexual
trauma
traumatic
tribal
unconscious bias
underappreciated
underprivileged
underrepresentation
underrepresented
underserved
undervalued
victim
victims
vulnerable populations
women
women and underrepresented
Notes: Some terms listed with a plus sign represent combinations of words that, when used together, acknowledge transgender people, which is not in keeping with the current federal government’s position that there are only two, immutable sexes. Any term collected above was included on at least one agency’s list, which does not necessarily imply that other agencies are also discouraged from using it.
The above terms appeared in government memos, in official and unofficial agency guidance and in other documents viewed by The New York Times. Some ordered the removal of these words from public-facing websites, or ordered the elimination of other materials (including school curricula) in which they might be included.
In other cases, federal agency managers advised caution in the terms’ usage without instituting an outright ban. Additionally, the presence of some terms was used to automatically flag for review some grant proposals and contracts that could conflict with Mr. Trump’s executive orders.
The list is most likely incomplete. More agency memos may exist than those seen by New York Times reporters, and some directives are vague or suggest what language might be impermissible without flatly stating it.
All presidential administrations change the language used in official communications to reflect their own policies. It is within their prerogative, as are amendments to or the removal of web pages, which The Times has foundhas already happened thousands of times in this administration.
Still, the words and phrases listed here represent a marked — and remarkable — shift in the corpus of language being used both in the federal government’s corridors of power and among its rank and file. They are an unmistakable reflection of this administration’s priorities.
April 2, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from Christina M Rau
It’s almost that time of year: the MLB, NBA, NFL, and NHL fall into full swing all at once in the U. S., it’s time to put sports in perspective–a speculative perspective. Here’s your word bank with sports-related words. Write a poem with a speculative aspect to see how this vocabulary translates to other realms or how non-human creatures fair at human athletics.
arena baton
doubleheader
driving hitter
guard
halftime kayaking league
polo
mallet
race
sledder
stadium trampoline
bogie
umpire
volley
mitt
Nordic
bunt
cleat
javelin
scull
tether
win
If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Superhighway Facebook Group.
April 4, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from Shelly Reed Thieman
First memories of eating Thanksgiving Turkey
I grew up in Berkeley, California
Almost 70 years ago
My first memories of eating Thanksgiving Dinner
Occurred when I was perhaps four years old?
My mom cooked a full Southern Style feast
As she had grown in Little Rock, Arkansas
Roasted turkey, stuffing, gravy, sweet potatoes with mushrooms,
Greens, grits and pumpkin pie and apple pie a la mode for dessert
And to this day, I recall
The great Southern style feasts I had
Every Thanksgiving and Christmas!
April 5
I am
I am Jake Cosmos Aller
The one and only
Born in Oakland, California
A Baby Boomer in 1955
I am unique
I have 18 nationalities
Flowing in my blood lines.
I am a man
Who followed
his own dreams.
I was a Peace Corps Volunteer
I was a teacher overseas
I was a US Diplomat
For 27 years
Serving my country
In over ten countries
And now I am retired
And a blogger
And poet.
But most importantly
I met and married
The girl of my Dreams
And that made
Me who I am today.
April 5, 2025: Poetry Writing Prompt from Jackie Chou
This poetry writing prompt submitted by Jackie Chou:
Write an “I Am” poem using Anne Sexton’s “Love Song” as an example but not restricted to her writing style.
LOVE SONG
I was
the girl of the chain letter,
the girl full of talk of coffins and keyholes,
the one of the telephone bills,
the wrinkled photo and the lost connections,
the one who kept saying–
Listen! Listen!
We must never! We must never!
and all those things…
the one
with her eyes half under her coat,
with her large gun-metal blue eyes,
with the thin vein at the bend of her neck
that hummed like a tuning fork,
with her shoulders as bare as a building,
with her thin foot and her thin toes,
with an old red hook in her mouth,
the mouth that kept bleeding
in the terrible fields of her soul…
the one
who kept dropping off to sleep,
as old as a stone she was,
each hand like a piece of cement,
for hours and hours
and then she’d wake,
after the small death,
and then she’d be as soft as,
as delicate as…
as soft and delicate as
an excess of light,
with nothing dangerous at all,
like a beggar who eats
or a mouse on a rooftop
with no trap doors,
with nothing more honest
than your hand in her hand–
with nobody, nobody but you!
and all those things.
nobody, nobody but you!
Oh! There is no translating
that ocean,
that music,
that theater,
that field of ponies.
-Anne Sexton
If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Super Highway Facebook Group.
Dew Drop Inn Prompts
Here at the Dew Drop Inn, we gather together to write a poem a day in April as a way to celebrate National Poetry Month.
April 1—Folly
April 2—Vote
April 3—Render an assessment, evaluation, or judgement
April 4—TGIF
April 5—Chekhov or another Russian writer
April 6—Death Cafe
April 7—Blues
April 8—Blood
April 9—Hump of the week
April 10—Memory
April 11—Rain
April 12—Safety
April 13—Greenery
April 14—Sky
April 15—Death and taxes
April 16—Friends
April 17—Teeth
April 18—Good Friday
April 19—Airplane
April 20—Easter eggs (hide something delightful in your poem!)
April 21—A country not your own
April 22—Earth Day
April 23—Shakespeare
April 24—Duty
April 25—Care giving
April 26—Travel
April 27—Duty
April 28—Back to work
April 29—Birds
April 30—Ars poetica
April Poems for Dew Drop In post daily
April 1—Folly
It is an act
Of pure folly
Foolish
To think that
What is going on
In the US it is normal
It is not
And things are going
To get much worst
April 2—Vote
donald trump
Vote
Perhaps
that is that last
chance
the US has to stop
the slide towards
incipient fascism
but perhaps
it won’t matter
since so many people
just don’t care
or are afraid
to speak out
April 3—Render an assessment, evaluation, or judgment
History Will Not Be Kind
History will not be kind
To us humans.
We had a chance
To save the world
From environmental disaster.
Due to ignorance, greed
And fear
Humans refused to change
Their destructive ways.
We all failed
Especially our leaders,
Continuing our old ways
Acting as if
Climate change
It is not a real thing.
As Death Valley temperatures
Became the norm
The whole world
Turning the whole world
Into a desert planet
With dead oceans
And arid wastelands.
Humanity was faced
With having to move
Into underground shelters
Or move to Martian and Lunar
Underground colonies
Humanity almost
became extinct
at a Civilization Ending Event.
April 4—TGIF
TGIF has closed
Part of the changing
Restaurant environment
Many people are not going out
As much as before.
Just too expensive
People are hunkering down.
Not feeling social
Apprehensive, scared
Fearing the return of stagflation
High inflation, high unemployment
Political and economic chaos.
As the worldwide trade war
The highest tariff rates in over 100 years
Trading partners vowing to retaliate
DOGE chainsaw slashing
Of the Federal government and programs,
Mass federal government layoffs.
AI taking over jobs
Robot workers everywhere
Mass deportations
Stock market tanking
Begins to take effect
Exhausted Americans
Working too hard
Staying home for now
Many other chains
Are closing
Fast food chains
High-end places
And ethnic food restaurants
Are doing okay
April 5—Chekhov or another Russian writer
Reading “ Crime and Punishment”
Reading Dostoevsky’s
“Crime and Punishment”
“the Idiot”
And the “Gambler”
Years ago
I realized how little things
Have really changed
And how much his portrayal
Of the dark side of humanity
It is still relevant today.
Bonus Weekly Challenge Poems for April
Hello Poets!!!
Tomorrow is April 1st and the beginning of National Poetry Month!
Therefore, anyone who completes prompts 34, 35, 36, 37, and 38 by April 30 will receive a special gift, which I have yet to determine.
So, let’s get started! Here is this week’s prompt!
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! 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.
I have been a writing com member since 2016. I have been actively posting in various challenges and contests since I began and have posted close to 998 pieces. I highly recommend this site as a warm, welcoming writing community and I have learned so much about the art and craft of writing from participating. You can find my work at https://jcosmos.Writing.Com/
Writer’s Cramp does a prompt every day with a daily winner. I have won quite a few of these and try to enter them daily.
End of Empires
38
On February 2, 1901,
Queen Victoria was laid to rest.
Largest gathering
Of European royalty ever assembled
Attended the funeral.
This was the height
Of the British Empire.
Few would have thought
In a few short years
World War 1 would begin.
And then World War Two
The Cold War
Followed by the gradual
End of the British Empire.
The sun did set
In the British Empire
But in 1901
It seemed like
The British Empire
Would last forever.
Empires rise and fall
Sometimes one sees the decline.
Other times it comes as a surprise.
In hindsight almost inevitable.
What will be the end?
Of the American Empire?
Will America break apart?
Into ten or 15 new nations?
If there is a civil war
It will not end up
As proponents think.
That is the nature
Of civil war
And war in general.
it never ends as planned.
“ War, Good God all, what is it good for?
War has only one friend, the undertaker.”
NEW (birthday week) PROMPT:
On February 2 (2/2) 1901, the state funeral of Queen Victoria of Great Britain took place and was one of the largest gatherings of European royalty in history. Write a poem or story about this event. Use HISTORY as one of your genres.
A Quiet January Night
26 lines
Sam Adams
Was at home
On a quiet January Night.
Snowbound
In his Capitol Hill Row house,
Down the street from Lincoln Park
In the heart of DC.
All in all
Sam felt at peace
With the world.
Having accepted
As he was getting older,
And having reconciled
With his long-estranged siblings.
He was playing the piano
While his cat
The Buddha Cat
Was lost in his cat verse
Deep in meditation.
Soon he put on some
Buddha bar meditation music
And joined the cosmic cat
In mediation.
There is a new prompt up in “The Writer’s Cramp” – and if you write the best story or poem (and follow all of the rules) you just might win 10,000 GPs.
” WINNER & NEW PROMPT Due Sunday, January 21″ 16 hours 40 minutes 35 seconds
Please use the following as the Title of your story or poem:
“A Quiet January Night”
Please select “Spiritual” as one of your genres.
Make sure you create a new static item for your entry, and include your word count for stories (1000 words or less) or a line count for poems (40 lines or less) IN your forum post with the b-item link to your entry to be a qualified entry.
Lunch with Allen Ginsberg (winner)
39
If I had a chance to go back in time
and meet for lunch a famous poet
I would go back to 1954.
to my hometown, Berkeley, California
to visit with and have lunch
with one of my literary heroes
Allan Ginsberg.
I would knock on his door
and tell him I came from
from 2024, the future.
And wanted to talk to him
about the future world
and we would go and have lunch
in North Beach.
And over wine and pasta, we would talk
We would talk about his life and legacy
and then talk about the future world.
I would tell him that Donald Trump
would become President
and usher in an era of neo-fascism.
H would be astonished.
but finally concluded
that he knew of the Trump family
and could see that coming.
They had bad juju he concluded.
And then he would go home
and write a series of poems
about the future of the U.S.
And perhaps we would have prevented
some of the future from taking place
perhaps it was inevitable
as he would write,
“the future is coming sooner than we think
and it will be stranger than fiction.”
Unfortunately, I can’t award a winner today. Please remember to select the appropriate genre if the prompt requires one. (Today’s prompt does not.)
NEW PROMPT: Tomorrow, January 6, is National Take a Poet to Lunch Day. Write a story or poem involving lunch with a poet. The poet can be living, formerly living, imaginary, or even yourself. What’s on the menu, and what topics are discussed?
Sam Adams
watched from far-off Mumbai
as the terrorists launched 9-11.
Thanking the Gods
that his wife was not working
there at the Pentagon.
He had a vision
that the Dogs of War
Have been set free
Of their cages in hell,
And are out
howling at the moon.
The Dogs of War
Have been set free
To wreck what havoc
Might be.
Yes, the Dogs of War
The Hell Hounds
Have bound out of their cages
Sniffed about, smiled
At the destruction, they saw
They knew soon
They would be in their element
As the world descends into chaos,
The world saw the face of pure evil
That fine September morning
A morning like any other morning
Until a fateful moment
When two planes came out of the sky,
And Destroyed the center of world capitalism
In an act of horrific violence, and pure evil
That is beyond the comprehension
Of mere mortal man.
Dec 7, 1941, was the attack by Japanese warplanes on Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, an event that propelled the United States into the forefront of World War II.
For tomorrow, write a story or poem that is set during an unexpected military attack. (But broadly construed … could be like Pearl Harbor, could be a science-fiction space war, could be a gang war in NYC, could be an unexpected snowball attack by the neighborhood bullies, could be in fairyland, etc.)
Focus your tale on the experiences of an “ordinary person” in this attack, rather than someone removed from the action (e.g. not military leaders in command-and-control centers.) Try to bring to life the confusion and emotions of the situation.
Hitler as an Artist?
20
A Hitler historian
was fascinated
With Hitler’s failed attempt
To be a painter,
Hitler always blamed
His failure as an artist
Due to a cabal of Jewish painters
Who were the arbiters of taste
In Vienna right after World War 1
One day he discovered
A cache of lost Hitler paintings.
Among the paintings,
was one labeled
“International Bird Painting Day”.
Art historians all agreed –
It was the worst bird painting
Ever made,
Proving that Hitler
Would never have made it
As an artist,
Since he had no talent
As an artist,
Sadly, his depraved, evil
malignant evil talents
Lay elsewhere.
NEW PROMPT: Tomorrow, April 8, is Draw a Picture of a Bird Day. Write a story or poem about someone with limited artistic talent attempting to observe this occasion.
20
Express it Eight
Soling Bling is the host of the Express It In Eight Daily prompts. The goal is to write an eight-line poem. Here are my most recent entries.
Jellyfish Lake and Other Strange Places
Sam Adams was an explorer
He had been to many strange places
Among the Weider were the Jellyfish Lake
Filled with jellyfish
Snake Island off of Brazil
Filled with the deadliest snakes in the world
And the famous cannibal island
where outsiders are forbidden in the Andaman seas.
In an ancient town in Central Asia,
Deep in the high mountains on the old Silk Road,
There lays a weird church, mosque, and temple.
With four doors, one to the church, the mosque, and the temple.
The fourth door, hidden in the back rooms leads to an indoor patio.
The fourth door reveals ten smaller green doors on top of each other.
According to the sign above, each door opens a portal
To other worlds, a one-way ticket for madmen only.
Lately, I have been drinking
Much more tea and less coffee,
Particularly in the afternoon.
My latest tea of choice is my wife’s secret blend.
Bitter melon, jujube dates, ugly potato, wormwood
With Earl Gray, green tea slims fast,
Yogi detox teas are added to the brewing pot.
Perfection in a soothing hot cup of heaven.
In the U.S. in November
There is a noteworthy
Looming election.
An election that will determine
In a comprehensive manner,
The future of the U.S. and the world
Will the U.S. choose fascism?
Or will democracy and sanity prevail?
the warning signs
are everywhere
will we heed them?
will we wake up
and see that Trump
and the MAGA movement
are fascists determined
to destroy American democracy.
POEM TITLES
Warning
by Jenny Joseph
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickles for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.
>< >< >< >< >< ><
I Choose the Mountain
by Howard Simon
The low lands call
I am tempted to answer
They are offering me a free dwelling
Without having to conquer
The massive mountain makes its move
Beckoning me to ascend
A much more difficult path
To get up the slippery bend
I cannot choose both
I have a choice to make
I must be wise
This will determine my fate
I choose, I choose the mountain
With all its stress and strain
Because only by climbing
Can I rise above the plain
I choose the mountain
And I will never stop climbing
I choose the mountain
And I shall forever be ascending
David Sneider is the host of Poetry Place. He does a weekly poetry form challenge similar to what Writer Digest does. I try to try my hand at both and between the two of them and Fan Story, I have tried over 150 poetry forms since 2016.
Here are my most recent attempts
Why do we write?
40 lines
A writer is often asked
Why do you write?
What motivates you?
What keeps you going?
How do you handle the constant rejections?
The self-doubts
What comes with the writer’s life?
I write as many writers do
Because I must
Because the damn muse
Will never leave me alone
The characters in my head
Demand to let their voices be heard
Demand to be freed
To tell their tales
And I am a slave
To my muse
Who takes me
Where she will
No matter what
I must write every day
Usually starting my day
Drinking coffee
Watching the news unfold
Writing my thoughts
Letting the poetry flow
Out of my soul
Bleeding onto the computer screen
The words waiting to be spoken
To tell their tale
Before the day is over
That is why I write
Because I can not write
That is the Buddha nature
Of being a writer after all.
Most of us probably started writing to fulfill the requirements of our teachers in school. We wrote to pass the course and gain recognition through grade assignments.
During some self-analysis upon leaving the Navy and starting my job search, I realized that the things I enjoyed the most and had the most success with involved writing of some sort. Therefore, a technical writing job seemed to be the perfect union of that interest with my engineering education. For the next few years, I wrote to instruct field technicians on how to implement retrofit modifications on aircraft.
Later, in the business world, I wrote to enlighten co-workers, managers, and customers about procedures, policies, and systems.
Nowadays, while I sometimes still write for those reasons (as I’m doing here), many more factors keep me engaged in this wondrous process. That’s probably the case with you, too.
If you feel a need to express your most personal response to this mysterious, beautiful, and sometimes painful world in the shapes, colors, sounds, and smells of your imagination, creative writing can provide a powerful means of therapeutic release.
The pure joy that comes with meeting the challenges of crafting the language into something meaningful, like molding a piece of clay with your hands, can be a refreshing recreational outlet.
Many writers are driven to publish their work on the printed page. I can vouch for the exhilarating sense of satisfaction that comes with that first acceptance letter.
Upon receiving a reviewer’s comment that one of my stories reminded him of a stand-up comedian’s routine, I realized that the desire to entertain/is also a driving force that keeps me motivated.
For whom do you write?
Many writers resist criticism and defend their writing with the claim that they write only for themselves. While some therapeutic or recreational writing may not be intended for sharing with an audience, writing is usually employed as a means of communicating with other people. Of course, the grocery lists and phone numbers you scribble on scraps of paper are probably intended for only you. However, those things within you that won’t rest until they are given voice–the burning memories that linger in your heart and the fanciful fugitive images floating around in your head–must be shared with someone else to satisfy the need for expression.
When you sit down to write, you should keep your audience in mind. Whether it be your friends and family, a group of readers interested in a particular genre as identified here at WDC, or an editor for a specific publication, the language you use serves as a bridge between you and the reader. Choose accordingly.
Your reasons for writing along with your prospective audience will influence the voice you use in your writing, as the relationship between the writer and the reader develops into a true collaboration in this wondrous experience.
Today’s Practice Session: Write about your objective(s) as you continue on this marvelous journey.
Then ponder the postings of your peers and exchange views about the various motivations that keep us all inspired in this venture.
Guns
so many
people are dying
Politicians offer useless prayers
Death
The Elevenie, also called Elfie in German, is an exercise in language distillation. Consisting of five lines with word counts of 1, 2, 3, 4, and 1, respectively, it captures a thought in only eleven words, as described and demonstrated in the following links:
Wikipedia defines an Elevenie, or Elfchen, as follows:
“An elevenie (German Elfchen — Elf “eleven” and -Chen as a diminutive suffix to indicate diminutive size and endearment) is a short poem with a given pattern. It contains eleven words which are arranged in a specified order over five rows. Each row has a requirement that can vary.”
A simple form, similar perhaps to Haiku, Senryu, or Tanka, in which the poet attempts to carry an idea within a set format of words and lines which imposes certain strictures of thought and form on the author.
The usual format requires a short verse of eleven words in five lines in the form – 1, 2, 3, 4, 1. An order which I have reversed in my last of the 4 Elfchen below . . .
Hot coffee starts my morning.
watching the news mid-morning.
Too much coffee is a warning,
a migraine a forewarning.
Afternoon I drink hot tea.
Contemplating to be.
What is to become of me?
Turning on music filled with glee.
As the sun sets, I drink red wine.
With my wife, all is just fine.
While looking at the moonshine,
As we sit down start to dine.
The Tanaga is an ancient Filipino form that has evolved from a complete poem to a series of stanzas. The structure consists of four mono-rhymed lines with seven syllables per line, as described and demonstrated in the following links:
I was born John Cosmos Aller
But for most of my life
I called myself Jake Cosmos Aller
Nowadays, I call myself J Cosmos Aller
or Cosmos As my pen name
the name Cosmos has nothing
to do with me being born
in Oakland
growing up in Berkeley
no one buys that story though
Cosmos being such a Berkeley-like name
My great-grandfather wanted
an English translation
of the family’s last name
Aller
looked it up in a German English dictionary
had two choices
Cosmos
or Universe
chose Cosmos
and thus I am the last
of the Cosmos Aller’s
The universe would have been
an equally good Berkeley name
But I have had other nicknames
The kids nicknamed me Allergy
And pretended to sneeze
When I passed them by
The name Jake came about
From a dream I had
As a boy scout
I was riding a horse
Named Jake
I would scream
Whoa Jake
Slide aside Clyde
Turn around Verdiack
I started saying these words
When I walked about Campus
And people thought I was a bit mental
So, people simply started calling me
The Whoa Jake kid,
Later simply became Jake
After I left school
I liked the name, Jake
Better than John
Too many Johns
In the world, I thought
When my wife became an army officer
We would sometimes get invites
To things addressed to Captain Lee and Mr. Lee
Got tired of trying to explain
We had different last names
So, I became Jake Lee
Later when I was in the military hospital system
As a dependent getting operations
The doctors just assumed I was a major
And called me Major Aller
I did not correct them
Liked having been promoted
To the rank of Major!
When I started trying to become
Professional writing and blogger
I thought using my middle name
Would be a nice pen name
So now I am either J Cosmos Aller
Jake Cosmos Aller
John (Jake) Cosmos Aller
or just Cosmos
No longer Jake Lee
Or Major Aller though.
unless you are Maya Angelou, Stephen King, or some other famous writer whose name alone is enough to draw an audience, the title is one of the most critical elements of a poem. As the only thing a prospective reader will see while scanning the list of items in a writer’s port or the Table of Contents in a book, it serves as the door that must be opened to enter the realm of the poet’s imagination. If that entrance does not generate some kind of interest, that browser will likely move along to the next item, or maybe even the next author.
Like the names of your children, a title gives the poem a specific identity. Of course, some poets eschew such traditions and leave their work without any identifying reference. Emily Dickinson did not put titles on her poems, even though her editors often did before publication. Frank O’Hara often applied simple, nondescript titles, such as Poem. Would you let your child go through life without a name? Then, why would you ever think of not naming your brainchild or tagging it with some irrelevant label?
Because many poems are so short in comparison with other forms of literature, their names should capture the underlying essence of the expression as it sets the tone and prepares the reader for what is to come. Mark Twain once said, “The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug,” and I believe the same advice would apply to titles for a poem. This can be a struggle in many cases. Sometimes the title comes to the poet out of the blue as inspiration for an entire composition, and sometimes it hides within the shrubbery of the text.
Here are a few suggestions to aid you in your search for the perfect name:
1. Start with the title and let it propel you into the poem.
2. Use the first line of the poem as your title.
3. Provide a brief description of the poem’s theme.
4. Find a phrase or image within the poem that can represent the whole.
5. If you are writing a narrative poem, an action verb may help engage the prospective reader with the experience being described.
6. Use your imagination to pluck lightning from the phantasmal cloud of cosmic pixie dust swirling around in your head.
Your assignment: Write a poem about the concept of NAMES.
#59. names
ID #1062273 entered on January 11, 2024, at 7:16 pm [Edit] [5 views]
More Guns Roundeau
gun
More guns killing people today.
Is it just another day?
Politicians offer prayer.
All the dead gun ghosts don’t care.
Have we completely lost our way?
To the gun ghosts, what do we say?
Our prayers are just another cliche.
Will the guns continue to flare?
More guns.
Will we continue to pay?
Will our country be able to stay?
Will hatred continue to stare?
Will there be an end to this nightmare?
Do we have any words left to sway?
More guns.
: aabba aabR aabbaR. Lines 9 and 15 are short
The Rondeau is a French form of fifteen lines with an intriguing pattern of rhyme and repetition, as described and demonstrated in the following links:
I wake up with the morning dawning sun.
Turn on my TV watch the news,
drinking a hot snarling cup of coffee.
thinking dark gloomy thoughts as the snow falls.
Bombs, war, inflation, end-of-the-world.
The Ronka is another spinoff from the Japanese Haiku and Tanka forms devised by Ken Ronkowitz. The structure consists of five unrhymed lines with seven words per line. The theme should “focus on observations of the day as seen in the outside world and the inside worlds of dwellings and the mind,” as described and demonstrated in the following links:
Rupali Goswami is the host of the 40-word challenge – to write a 40-word poem or micro story based on the daily prompts. Here are my latest attempts.
01/29/2023- ‘old”
Watching the news
I feel the old-age blues
I turn off the barking, deranged,
talking heads,
had enough of them all
for a lifetime
turned off that snarling noise box.
And have another cup of coffee.
With my lovely wife.
#5. 01/29/2023- ‘old”
ID #1062532 entered on January 17, 2024, at 4:22 am [Edit] [2 views]
01/28/2023-‘unusual’
Donald Trump
Is the biggest con artist
carnival barker, grifter,
Flimflam man
That ever lived.
He has an unusual
Sway over his cult-like
MAGA Followers
Who thinks he is God’s Anointed
Some call him the orange Jesus
The Messiah!
#4. Unusual sway
ID #1062531 entered on January 17, 2024, at 4:17 am [Edit] [12 views]
01/27/2023-decency’
The next election
Boils down to this
Will we choose decency?
represented by Biden
And Democracy
Or will we choose hatred?
And Fascism?
Represented by Trump?
When
Sam Adams
Bought the 3-d print Glock
He tested security several times.
Smuggling the gun in
And re-entering the building.
Where he administered justice
To his lying scumbag frat bro
Darius Smith, iv.
When Darius Smith, IV
Sam’s College frat bro
stole 100 million dollars
2 million from him
he prayed that someone
would rescue his soul
as he blew him, Darius, away
as he ate dinner. with Sam’s
estranged wife.
Barbados, West Indies – March 4, 2007: A beach scene on the Caribbean Island of Barbados with a yellow lifeguard station and people enjoying the beach and the water.
On a winter’s day
In cold, dismal snowy DC
My thoughts often turn.
To Barbados.And the three wonderful years
I spent serving my country.
In Barbados, and the Eastern Caribbean.Recalling blissful days
Hanging out at the Hilton Hotel
With the love of my wife by my side.Sunday brunch then hitting the beach.
Drinking rum sours while watching people
Frolicking in the Blue Sea.
Visiting my other islands
once a month
Antigua, Dominica, Grenada, St. Kitts,
St. Lucia and St. Vincent and the Grenadines
Meeting political leaders
Liming with the locals.
Listening to the steel drum band
Play as the sunsets
Over my secret Caribbean paradise.
Comment: My best tour in the Foreign Service was when I served as Deputy Pol/Econ Chief in Barbados and the Eastern Caribbean (Antigua, Barbados, Dominica, Grenada, St. Kitts, St Lucia, and St Vincent and the Grenadines) from 2007 to 2010. Liming is local jargon for having a drink.
An old Mother
Embraces her daughter
And son-in-law
Luminous tears
Flowing down her face
As she looked
At her children
Filled with love
A devoted humble
Guiding loving spirit
Smiling at her
These are the rules:
1) You must use the words I give in a poem or prose with no limits on length.
2) The words can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem and can be any form of the word.
3) All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum, “Stormy’s poetry newsletter & contest” [ASR] by May 13, 2023.
4) The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post (May 17, 2023)
The words are:
A mother embraces luminous tears devoted spirit humble guiding
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
Just an unhinged lunatic howling at the moon
. Howling at the moon
lunatic howling at the moon
one crazy day
full moon lunacy
. The pink moon inspires lunacy
. Howling with the dancing moon
the pink super moon
howling at the pink super moon
Howling at the Moon Like an Escaped Banshee
The lunatic light of the blood super moon
The werewolf emerges
Wolves howling at the moon
Zombie wolves howling at the moon
Woman howling at the moon
Maria Lee’s balanced madness
Moonbeam
Howling at the wolf moon rising over the Chao Praya River
Howling at wolf moon Nocturna
The pink super moon tanka
Drunken old man howling at the moon
Howling with the dancing moon
Howling at the full moon in Bangkok
Moon over July
Howling at the strawberry moon
“Blame it on the moon.”
unhinged lunatic howling at the full moon
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.
Gratitude Death To The Darius Smiths Of The World Pensively
WSJ Interview With Sam Adams
Darius Caesar Smith, V Close Encounter With Sam Adams Glock
Sam Adams And The Wall Street Robin Hood Gang
Sam Adams And The Wall Street Robin Hood Gang
Time To Die, Darius Caesar Smith,
Sam Adams Jewelry Thief
Note:
This is part of a larger set of 34 poems looking at the same event from 34 different POVs. It is all about Sam Adam’s feud with Darius Caesar Smith V, a fellow Yale Bonesman, and Frat Bro, and his father, Darius Caesar Smith, IV, who stole 2 million dollars from Sam and stole his wife too, as well as defrauding 100 million dollars from small investors across the world,. Sam then killed him in public on Wall Street generating nationwide coverage. The media dubbed them the Wall Street Robin Hood Gang after they recovered 100 million dollars and paid back investors with ten percent interest, stealing the funds from the secret Cayman Islands accounts of Darius Smith’s investments. The Gang continued becoming jewelry and art thieves, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor and middle class.
Hedge Fund Must Die Wall Street
Sam Adams
went to Wall Street
to find the head
of an index fund
that had defrauded him
of 2 million dollars
on a mission to kill
the hedge fund bro
Mr. Darius Caesar Smith, V.
came up to Mr. Smith
Said to him
“Do you know me?”
“No”
“you stole 2 million dollars from me.
and Your Hedge Fund Must Die “
blew him away.
Someone Needs to Die on Wall Street
Sam Adams
counted on an abacus
beads and strings
concluded
he lost 2 million dollars
went to Wall Street
on a mission to kill
the hedge fund bro
Mr. Darius Caesar Smith, V.
Someone who needed
killing thought Sam
as he pulled the trigger.
on his Glock.
Sorry My Ass Assassination
Sam Adams
went to the store
to get some sugar
something sweet
and guns and ammo.
on a mission to kill
the hedge fund bro
Mr. Darius Caesar Smith, V.
who stole 2 million dollars
from his account.
due to a “computer glitch”
and said,
“Hey just one of those things
Dude.
Sorry.”
“Sorry my ass
said Sam
as he pulled the trigger.
He ain’t Sorry
Sam Adams
went to the store
to get some ammo
He was going to kill
Mr. Darius Caesar Smith, V.
who stole 2 million dollars
.
“Dude, Sorry. just business”
“Sorry my ass
said Sam
as he pulled the trigger.
Waiting to Kill Darius Caesar Smith V
Sam Adams
stood in the X-ray screening
queue waiting to clear security
on Wall Street
He had a gun
undetectable according
to the gun show pros
on a mission to kill
the hedge fund bro
Mr. Darius Caesar Smith, V.
a man who needed killing.
He smiled as he blew him
away.
Just Do It, Sam Adams
Just Do it
thought Sam Adams
as he saw his nemesis
Darius Caesar Smith, V
having lunch
at a crowded dinner.
he came up to him
sat down, and spoke
“Mr. Darius Caesar Smith, V?”
“Yes?”
“You have 30 seconds
to pray to your God”
and counted down
the time on his Apple watch
when it beeped
He pulled out his new Glock
shot him in the head, execution style.
and ran off into the night
never to be found again.
the assassination of Darius Caesar Smith, V
the shocking assassination
of Darius Caesar Smith, V
and how he had swindled
100 million dollars
due to computer manipulation
was not that shocking
in the era of mass shootings
no one mourned Darius
the ultimate Wall Street
entitled frat bro.
3 D guns
Sam Adams
asked the gun dealer
“so this gun
will not be detected
by a metal detector?
yeah, it is a 3-D print.
Sam Adams thought
blowing away Darius Smith
“here’s proof that 3 d guns
are not detectable!”
Ten Minutes To Live
When Sam Adams
Saw that scumbag
Wall Street bro
Darius Caesar Smith, V
He said,
“Darius Caesar Smith, V
I sentenced you to death
You have ten seconds to live”
The Apple watch buzzer buzzed
He shot him dead
Livestreamed everywhere.
Timid No More
Sam Adams
Was normally a timid man
But when Wall Street bro
Darius Caesar Smith, V
a fellow Yale Bones man
and frat bro,
Stole 2 million dollars
From him!
He bought a 3-D print Glock
And shot Darius Caesar Smith, V
Shot him dead live on TV.
Empowered to Kill
When Sam Adams
Bought the 3 D Print Glock
At the Winchester Gun Show
He felt empowered
To do what needed to be done.
To kill on TV
Darius Caesar Smith, V
The ultimate Wall Street
Hedge Fund Bro.
3-D Print Glock Beauty
When Sam Adams
Bought the 3 D Print Glock
at the Winchester Gun Show
without ID or name check required,
He thought that it was a thing
Of great Beauty
He stalked Darius Caesar Smith, V
The ultimate Wall Street
Hedge Fund Bro to a bar
Livestreamed shooting
shouting
“Die Yuppie Scumbag!”
Rescue Me
when Darius Caesar Smith, V
Sam’s College frat bro
stole 100 million dollars
2 million from him
he prayed that someone
would rescue his soul
as he blew him, Darius, away
as he ate dinner. with Sam’s
estranged wife.
Tempered
When the day dawn
for the assassination
of Darius Caesar Smith, V
for the crime of stealing
100 million dollars
Sam Adams tempered his nerves
smoking lots of weed
before doing the deed
Blowing Darius’ Head off.
live on TV.
Loft Apartment Sam Adams
Darius Caesar Smith, V
a Yale Frat Bro
and Bones man
through and through
had it made
he was banging
his best friend’s
Sam Adams’s
estranged wife Maria Lee
in his cute Wall Street
Loft Apartment.
Pressure Building
When Sam Adams
Found out his estranged wife
Was having an affair
With his Yale Frat bro,
and fellow Bonesman,
Darius Caesar Smith, V
Who had stolen 2 million dollars,
and his wife from him,
Sam felt the pressure building
He would have to kill him.
Humble Background
Sam Adams grew up
in humble circumstances
his father a school janitor
his mother was a junkie prostitute
who died when he was two
he got into Yale
on a full-ride
joined a frat
became a Bonesman
where he met Darius Caesar Smith, V
a legacy admission
instant hate between them
although the clueless Darius
thought they were best buds.
Sam vowed to destroy Darius
and his crooked father
and prepared a dosier on them..
Low Ku Darius Caesar Smith, V
Sam Shot Darius
with a 3D print Glock Gun
there was so much blood
The killing of Darius Caesar Smith, V by the Wall Street Robin Hood Gang
Sam Adams
in preparing to kill
Darius Caesar Smith, V
his Yale Frat Bo
and Bonesman,
the ultimate legacy frat boy
the excellent Wall Street
Hedge Fund Monster
who stole 100 million dollars
from small investors,
found an obsolete bug
that he could use
to wiretap Darius’s communication.
the technology was so obsolete
that bug detection equipment
did not register for it.
that was handy
and useful information
for Sam
as he plotted his revenge,
after killing him on TV
his accounts would be siphoned off
into Sam’s Account.
and Sam would pay back
all the investors.
with ten percent interest.
when word hit the street
of what they had done,
Sam and his gang
were dubbed the Wall Street
Robbin Hood.
Taking Solace No One Mourned Darius Caesar Smith, V
after the big event
Sam and his buddies
the Wall Street Robin Hood Gang
as the media affectionately called them
took Solace in the fact
that no one mourned the lost
of Darius Caesar Smith, V
the ultimate Yale Frat Bro
Wall Street bro
who had stolen
2 million dollars
from his accounts
with the help
of his treacherous estranged wife.
who was having an affair
with Darius
and had been
during the entire married life
keeping it a secret.
they wondered at the poetic justice
of the planned administration
using the Second Amendment rights
and a 3D print Glock
purchased without ID
or records
at the Winchester, Gun Show.
Wall Street Robin Hood Meeting
Sam assembled his team
the Wall Street Robin Hood Gang
they all were victims
of the Yale Frat Bro
Hedge Fun Wall Street Bro
they wanted revenge
Sam said
while handing out candy canes
as it was Christmas
“speak up
you can tell me anything
in Candor.”
they drank and smoked weed
all night long
debating the plan
as they drank their coffee
they knew that was the Day
Darius Must Die.
Quite A Shock To The Yale Class Of 2005
on D Day
the Robbin Hood gang
got dressed
wearing Blue Biden hats
black shirts and black pants
anti-fa style baby
with a new design on the hats
copied from a movie
it was the latest fashion
they had picked up
at a dance club
the night before
where they tied one on
in preparation for D-day
they all had their weapons
their accessories
When it was all done
it was quite a shock
to the Yale Class of 2005
Manifesto
Sam Adams and his team
worked all night on the manifesto
which would be released
online with the live-stream video
in his manifesto
he listed all the crimes
of Darius and his crooked firm
ran by his Dad
who was using it as money laundering
operation for the Russian mob
and they listed all 500 victims
with a promise that they would
receive all their money back
with ten percent interest
by the end of the day
the manifesto went worldwide
to Interpol, FBI, State, and Local police
Foreign Embassies
by the end of the day
the FBI launched a manhunt
for the Robbin Hood gang
but also raided Darius Smith’s investors
and arrested Darius Senior
who did not go quietly
into the good night
yelling
do you know who I am?
Do you know how much
I can fuck you up.
Pig?”
Fox News went on and on
about the Anti-fa
Biden Conspiracy
Darius Caesar Smith, V Must Die,
Sam Adams
Had a scar
From fights long ago.
He put on his clothes
Including a gold chain
And ribbons.
Fed his pet bird
Adjusted the beads
On his bed.
Turned on the switches
On his low-tech
Spy camera.
Watching his nemesis
Darius Caesar Smith, v
Rogering his estranged wife,
Maria Lee.
Drew the veil
On his curtain
Put fresh coffee grounds
Had a cup of snarling hot coffee.
Chanting his vows
Of revenge
Against that monster
Darius Caesar Smith.
Turned the key on the door
Taking the elevator shaft
Down to the street.
Prepared to kill Darius
Before the day was done.
He had to die
For his many crimes.
And he was the judge, the jury
And the execution
The boss of the wall street
Robin Hood gang!
Close Up Darius Caesar Smith, V
Sam Adams
turned on the low-tech
spy camera
zooming in
for a close-up
of his estranged wife
in bed with his sworn enemy
Darius Caesar Smith, V
the poster child
of an entitled Rich Frat Bro
from Yale
Who was a Hedge Fund Bro
who had to die
for his crimes
and for rogering his wife.
Appointment with Death Darius Caesar Smith, V
Sam Adams
And his Robbin Hood Wall Street Gang
Had a final strategy meeting
They had an appointment
With Darius Caesar Smith, v.
Who had to die today?
For his myriad crimes
Including stealing his wife,
And two million dollars
Part of the 100 million dollars
Darius and his crooked father
Stole from small-time investors.
Dismissing it all as a computer glitch
“Nothing personal, these things happen,
just business dude!”
“Boy, if anyone needed to be killed
It was that scumbag frat bro,”
thought Sam.
the Past Comes Back to Bite You in the Ass
Sam Adams
often thought back
on past time.
thinking that the past
is not just the past
but the past had a tendency
to come back to life
and bite you in the ass
to remind you
of the past.
especially when he met
Darius Caesar Smith, V
his college roommate
and frat bro
and fellow Bones man.
Hate at first sight
although they were officially
best friends.
Darius Caesar Smith, V
was a legacy admission
stupid as shit, but handsome as hell
with a devil may care
attitude to the z tude.
his father
Darius Caesar Smith, IV
donated two million dollars
to the University
part of the hundred million dollars
he skimmed from his investors.
even then Sam Adams
spied on him
creating a dossier
of his many crimes
preparing in advance
what became
the Manifesto
of the Wall Street Robbin Hood Gang.
Gratitude Wall Street Robin Hood
Sam Adams
and the Wall Street Robin Hood Gang
felt an immense sense of gratitude
as the public rallied to their cause
Revenge against the Wall Street monsters
such as Darius Caesar Smith, V
and his crooked Dad, Darius Caesar Smith, IV
who stole 100 million dollars
from small investors.
The Robbin Hood Gang recovered
the money and gave it all back
with ten percent interest,
The FBI vowed to catch them
the public thought otherwise
as they were the heroes
of the day.
Death to the Darius Smiths of the world
Sam Adams
woke up
and fed the beast
his demented cat
in his small NYC apartment
down the hall
was the operation center
of the Wall Street Robin Hood Gang
Who was not Intimidated?
By the Darius Smith’s of the world
they were terrified
of the consequences
of their actions.
He got high
kicking back
contemplating revenge.
writing in his diary
using the old computer machine
tapping the Keys.
“Brothers and Sisters,
he spoke
“I feel old today
but today is a grand day
For Darius Caesar Smith, V to die.
Death to the Darius Smiths of the world”
they screamed
into the uncaring night.
WSJ Interview with Sam Adams
Kimberly Wang
an ace WSJ reporter
was given the Robbin Hood Gang Story
and managed to secure an interview
with the elusive, enigmatic crime boss
interviewing him a week
after the assassination of
Darius Caesar Smith, V
and the FBI raid on
Darius Smith’s Enterprises
and the arrest
of Darius Caesar, IV.
she started by saying
she was curious about one thing.
“When did you decide
that Darius Caesar Smith, V
had to die?”
“simple the day
I met that scumbag
back in 2000 at Yale.
it was hated at first sight
but he was so clueless
thought we were best friends
for life”.
Darius Caesar Smith, V Close Encounter with Sam Adams Glock
Darius Caesar Smith, V
had a fatal encounter
with Sam Adams 3D Print Glock
that killed him instantly.
The media framed the murder
as the Revenge of the small investor
against the sharks of Wall Street.
Dubbing them the Wall Street Robin Hood Gang
Their fame grew
with the publication of the manifesto
and the recovery of the stolen funds
given back to the investors with 10 percent interest
i am again participating in the Poetry Super Highway Free E Book Exchange. My book, “Mozart Blues” will be available for downloading from the PSH web page on December 1 for 24 hours (from Mid-night PST time). Please consider downloading my book and others on December 1, 2023.
Acknowledgment
These poems have been published in the following journals and elsewhere and were written between 2016 and 2023. They were published in.
Down in the Dirt, Spillwords Poems, Ink Pantry, Synchronized Chaos, Former People Poems as well as on my website, The World according to Cosmos (https:/theworldaccordingtocomos.com) and All Poetry, Fan Story and Writing.com
This chapbook is part of the Poetry Superhighway’s Annual Poetry E-Book Free for All event.
The mission of the Poetry Superhighway is to expose as many people to as many other people’s poetry as possible.
What?
A project in which your poetry e-books will be freely available to all interested humans on Earth for 24 hours.
Throughout November we will collect e-books from poets and writers interested in participating.
Then on December 1st, for 24 hours, links to all of the e-books will go live. For 24 hours anyone can download, for free, as many of these e-books as they like…a poetry e-book free-for-all.
How?
To participate, read the guidelines below and then click on our Online Submission form. That’s it. It’s simple. By doing so, your e-book will be included.
The E-Book has to be written by you.
E-books should be in PDF Format for universal compatibility with anyone’s computer.
If you have an e-book in Microsoft Word or another format, please convert it to PDF. One way to do this (if you don’t know how) is to visit the website http://www.freepdfconvert.com/. From there you will be allowed to select the file on your computer which will be uploaded and e-mailed back to you in PDF format.
When creating your e-book file, please keep it smaller than 2 megabytes.
Once you’ve created your e-book (not before), click on our Online Submission Form to join in!
Do not fill out the form and then e-mail us your e-book later. Please fill out the form and use it to upload your e-book to us.
We do not accept e-books or submissions by e-mail. The only way to join in is by clicking on the Online Submission Form below.
On December 1 at Midnight (the evening of November 30), people will be free to download any or all of the titles and your poetry will be freely, electronically, traveling all over the world. This web page will go offline 24 hours later at Midnight on December 2nd.
We will also list your e-book and description on this web page along with the link to your website for all to see.
Dazzling light of the full moon
Inspiring the drinkers
At the cosmos club
In Bangkok
Twenty drinks too sober.
To quit their drinking
For a moment
Laying down their beer
And bourbon shots.
To rush out onto the street
Naked wild and free
Howling at the full moon
Like escaped banshees
Mad werewolves.
The New King of Humanity Emerges
artoon-devil-satan-businessman-suit-450w-49
There is a cosmic crack on the sideways,
Covers on the ground covering up
The gateway to the other world. ,
That comes out of the holes
In the ground
Filled with the power
Of the netherworld.
The spirits are led
By a sacred owl
Who screeches out
Their plan.
But first, they sit down
And have a feast
Fit for the future king
Of the world.
The spirits ache all over
As they lift their heavy weapons
Lit the flames
And destroy the human city.
Deranged Old Priest
A slightly deranged old priest
Pledged,
High up in the forest
That he would resist
The secret evil powers
That controlled the world.
With longer words of despair’
He continued his prayers
At a shrine to a magic stone
Lost in a secret temple
Deep in the wintergreen trees.
Remembering with a wry smile,
All the people around him who were
greedily pursuing their goals
of obtaining power at all costs
and in the process
losing all traces
of their humanity
as the evil forces
took over their souls.
Lonely Dog
A lonely dog
Goes out into the courtyard
Waiting for his master
To return home
Alas, false alarm
His master will not return
As he has died.
Of the super plague
COVID 25
That killed most people.
The dogs and cats
And other animals
Eventually left
To fend for themselves.
But they missed
Their human friends.
Water, water everywhere
flood
Water, water everywhere
As the monster rainstorms
Continued to pound the east coast
Southeast Asia, and Korea
Massive thousand-year flood events
Everywhere.
Too much water
With record rain falls
While out west
The mega drought continued.
Europe on Fire
Amazon on fire
Greenland ice melting
Massive forest fires
Burning everywhere
As climate change
Continued a pace.
Politicians and leaders
Refusing to do anything
To stem the crisis.
Then the ice melted
The gulf-stream failed
And the world
Continued its slide
Becoming inhospitable
For human life.
Billions died,
The remaining humans
Moving to underground cities
As the modern world ended.
Literary Yard has published Winter Haiflu and other poems.
Index
Good bye 2021 Good Riddance
Winter Haiflu
Seek the Light
The Darkness Spreads
Seeing Demons
Messenger Dog of God
its a dog’s life for Me
Agnostic Dog wonders if there is dog
I want A dog’s Life
21 Dawns 21 Haiku
Dear Republicans, What Is Wrong with You?
The Revolution Next Time
Zombie Ideas Do Not Die
There Is A Great Sense of Unrest
cosmic calendar
Falling Rain
Good-Bye 2021 Good Riddance
Reflecting on the last six years
One cannot but sense
That momentous thing
Were happening everywhere
2021 was worst than 2020
And the year before as well
Nonstop terrifying events
The world seems
To be spending out
Of control
January
January normally dawns
Cold but hopeful
This year an attempted coup
Storming of the U.S. Capitol
The new president
Not accepted by the old
Half the country
Believes the big lie
February
February continued
The non-stop political wars
As COVID continued
Marching across the land
March
March is not much better
March madness
Continued unabated
April
April taxes due
Other nightmares continued
COVID vaccination wars
Continued in the U.S.
COVID relief passed
May
May brings little relief
Constant political battles
Descends into madness
June
June brings no relief
People screaming none stop
As COVID deaths continue
July Economy Begins Recovery
July continues -COVID still spreading
The economy seems better
But so many people
Have checked out
August
No longer
A month off
The battles continue
September
Many people
Dread returning to school
The economy slowly opens up
Vaccination mandates
Vaccinations stalling out
October
It seemed for a bit
That perhaps COVID
Was easing up
There was some hope
In the air
Perhaps the politicians
Would finally do the right thing
Way overdue
inadequate infrastructure bill passed
Build Back Better stalled
November
The dreaded COVID
Mutates again
Mocking humanity
General Corona still
On the rampage
30 still refuse to get
A vaccination
As one thousand people
A day become Corona Ghosts
December
Travel restrictions re-emerge
COVID continues to surge
Gun violence continues unchecked
Politicians continue to play game
As too many people die
Becoming Corona ghosts
Gun violence ghosts
Drug overdoes ghosts
Accident death ghosts
The year of dread finally ends
With so many ghosts
Crying in the wind
###
Ten Winter Haiflu
Winter is coming
The cold season approaching
Christmas around the corner
The COVID virus
Surging everywhere it seems
Winter of our discontent
The winter rushes
2022 looms
Goodbye 2021
2021
Fading into memory
Good riddance we all proclaim
Dreading the winter
Dreading more COVID
Dreading more Corona Ghosts
Winter depression
COVID fears re-emerging
Still more travel restrictions
The winter starting
Coronavirus and guns
Deaths, ghosts crying in the wind
Wintertime for blues
Blues playing on my YouTube
Seeing Corona Ghosts Dancing
Wintertime sadness
Recalling all who have gone
In this dismal year now past
Winter beginning
Are the end times coming?
Are revelations coming true?
###
Seek the Light
god
also published in Creativity Webzine.
Seek the light
My friend,
Seek the light
The light of the universe
The light of peace and happiness.
The cosmic good of the universe.
The ancient battle
Between Good and evil
Light and darkness
Life and death
Love and hate.
War and peace.
Seek the light of love
Seeking love
It is all around you
It is all in you.
Open your soul
And let the light
Of the universe
Flood into your soul.
Seek the cosmic light
My son, if you think it is right
If you think the light
Is the same,
As the light of the Christian faith.
You would be right.
If you think it is Light
Of the Buddhist faith
You would be right.
If you think it is Allah’s light
You would be right.
If you think.
It is Shiva’s light
You would be right.
If you think
It is God’s light
You would be right.
It’s the same light
Of the universe
Which shines on us all.
Regardless of our faith
Or lack of faith,
We can all receive the light.
The light of the universe
It’s flawless
We all seek the light
And it is right
To seek the light.
The light of the universe
Is waiting for you
It is all for you.
And if you find
The light of the universe
You will find love
Peace and happiness
It is your birthright,
You will find that
After you die
The Light will fill you
And take you
To the next world.
Seek the light
It is waiting for you.
Wake up and
Embrace your fate
Seek the light on this date.
###
The Darkness Spreads
The darkness is spreading
The darkness of the universe
The dark side
Of the legendary force.
For the world
Is divided into force
Of the light
And the force of darkness.
You cannot have light
Without the darkness,
And you cannot have darkness
Without the light.
There is a cosmic battle
Between the light
And the darkness.
Good and evil
Life and death
Love and hate.
War and peace.
Ying and Yang
God and Devil
Make up the whole Tao
Of the Universe.
And the darkness
Seems to be spreading
All over this darkening world
Every day we turn on the news
We see more examples
Of the darkness
Spreading across the world
Like dark cancer.
A pandemic of despair, fear, and hate.
All humans seem consumed
With fear, hatred, violent thoughts,
And the disease of the mind.
We all seem to be
Sliding down a dark hole
Into the darkness
Of our souls.
The ancient battle
Between Good and evil
Light and darkness
Life and death.
Love and hate.
War and peace.
And it seems
That we have lost all hope
We have lost this light
Of the universe
We have lost the light
Of love
It seems that the darkness
And the fear of the darkness
That is all that we have left.
Hatred, fear, and mistrust
All overwhelm us
And we look out at other people
Thinking that it is now a time
To do or die.
Kill off our enemies
The other evil tribe,
Before they can do
the same to us.
And only a few of us
Still see the light
That is still there.
It has not gone away
And perhaps
With the turn of the wheel
Of time
The darkness will gradually end.
And the lightness
Will once again
Flood the world.
And we all wake up
Peace and happiness
Will defeat the darkness
Yet again
.
It is the way
Of the universe
Ever since the dawn
Of this cosmic game.
The darkness
And light
Battling each other.
The darkness takes over
Becomes the nightmare
Of our Collective Soul.
But it is not too late my son,
There is still time
To find the light
And combat the darkness.
So, my friends
It is waiting for you
Seek the light.
Avoid the darkness
Walk away from fear
Walk away from death
Walk away from despair
Walk away from hate
But you have
A much better world
Waiting for you
If you embrace the light
Of the universe.
Seek the light
It will banish the darkness
And set your soul free.
###
Seeing Demons
more monster images for poem jpg
from a recent nightmare.
Sam Adams
Fell into a deeply troubled sleep
One night.
He saw in his nightmares
The growing power of the darkness
Of the universe.
The ancient battle
Between good and evil
Light and darkness.
Life and death
Love and hate.
War and peace.
Yin and Yang
The duality of the Tao.
Playing out
In front of him
As if in a movie
But nightmarishly real.
Sensing the fear and hatred
Spreading everywhere
He saw an army
Of foul creatures
Straight from the nightmares
Of Hell.
Banshees, bears, bigfoot. Cthulu, centaurs, drones, dwarfs, demons, devils, flying drones, flying monkeys, giants, ghosts, gorillas, goblins, orcs, imperial stormtroopers from Star Wars, Klingons, java the hut, leprechauns, lions, max headroom. men in black suits with no faces, Mr. Smith corporate suits, munchkins, monsters, robots, Romulans, Roman gladiators, space aliens, the four horsemen of the apocalypse riding out front, tigers, warlocks, the white witch from Narnia, the wicked witches from Oz, witches, werewolves, wolves, vultures, Yeti and zombies.
He saw millions of people,
Being taken
over by the demons.
Eating them
Rampaging, rioting, raping
Pillaging them
Taking control
Of their bodies
Consuming their souls.
Turning into hideous monsters.
Who continue the carnage
Rampaging mobs
Of deranged crazed demons.
In front of them all
He saw a demon
Staring at him
With a thousand-year stare
Filled with hate.
A tall dark pig-like beast
Standing erect
With reddish horns.
And two heads
The head of President Trump
And the head of President Putin
And blazing red eyes.
The head demon hissed,
Sam Adams
We are coming for you.
“You are mine
Resistance is futile,
Prepare to meet your fate
On this cosmic date.”
He screamed
As the demon ran up to him
Fearing the demon
Would soon consume his soul.
He prayed with all his might
And then he saw
The light of the universe.
The demons ran screaming
Running from the light
Fleeing into the darkness
Back to the hell hole
From when they had come.
He woke up
Next to his wife
Glad he had embraced
Life, love, and light
Of the universe.
Filled with love
And happiness
He got up.
With the demons
Of the dark lord
Fading into his nightmares
Banished by the light
Of his one true love.
Dawns 21 Haiku
2021Dawns
Politics are still uncertain.
thousands still are dying.
2021Dawns
The New president offers.
Hope new beginning.
2021Dawns
The Madness never
ends it seems.
Consuming us all
2021Dawns
The hope springs enterally
We will overcome.
2021Dawns
35,000 lies.
Fading like ghosts
2021Dawns
Politicians still lying.
Thousands still dying.
2021Dawns
Coronavirus spreading
More corona ghosts.
2021Dawns
There is new hope in the air.
Will politics kill it?
2021Dawns
The news stills
scream death and despair.
I turn it all off
2021Dawns
As I wake up at dawn
I see my sleeping wife.
2021Dawns
We wait for the coming fires.
End of the world fears
2021Dawns
Q continues to spread hate.
Millions still follow him.
2021Dawns
Will optimism and love?
Overcome the hate.
2021Dawns
Many questions remaining.
I have no answers.
2021Dawns
With hope, I leap out of my bed
Watching TV kills hope
2021Dawns
Will this be the end of my days?
Will I overcome it?
2021Dawns
2020 hangover
Like a dark nightmare
2021Dawns
Politicians still refusing.
To do anything
2021Dawns
The rich are still getting richer.
The poor remain poor.
2021Dawns
We hope the past will fade away.
Into dark memories
2021Dawns
I wake up hoping for the best.
Dreading worst to come
2021Dawns
I am still alive thank god.
Filled with love for my wife.
###
Dear Republicans, What is Wrong with You?
Dear Republicans,
What is wrong with you?
The former president
Incited a riot.
Stormed the house.
Would have killed you.
If they could have
And you still defend.
The former president
Refusing to hold him to account?
Do you want him?
Running around starting the patriot party
Launching a jihad against you?
When you can remove him
From the game
And send him home.
For good
What the hell is
wrong with you
Just do your job
Put a stake.
Through that vampire’s heart
Kill Trumpism.
Before it kills you
###
The Revolution Next Time
A revolution is brewing.
On the right
And on the left
As madness descends on the land
Incited by right-wing
political leaders.
Inciting riots and rebellion
Demanding action
Against their enemies
While on the left
Revolution is
brewing as well.
Soon will they unite
To march down
Tearing down democracy
As our leaders
Play games.
As the world descends
Into chaos
And the US becomes
Another failed state
Until a proverbial man
On a white horse
Rides in to save us.
From ourselves
The revolution next time
It will not be pretty.
As everything burns
And America dies
###
Zombie Ideas Do Not Die
Zombie Ideas
Do not die.
They linger on
In our collective minds
Infecting our politics
Among my favorites
Are the canard.
That tax cuts will solve all problems.
That deregulation will free up business.
That the free market will solve our problems
That the government is the problem
And we must starve the government.
Of funds
So, it can do no more harm.
To our great country
These and other pernicious
Fact free alternative facts
Are spread far and wide.
Across the right-wing media sphere
Infecting our politicians
Leading them to playing games
Instead of coming together.
To solve our collective problems
And now the Republicans are saying.
Amid the worst epidemic in history
With the US economy slipping into the great depression era
The US cannot afford to spend any more money.
On combatting the pandemic
That the Federal government has done enough
It is up to the states to solve their problem.
Because of deficit spending
Which they did not care about
Before the change in command
Now the federal government is broke.
But we cannot ask the billionaire class.
To pay a dime more in taxes
We need to cut taxes more.
So, we go.
These zombie ideas
Mutating and spreading
Infecting our politics
With madness
Making it impossible to govern
As things fall apart
Let us put a Death.
to zombie ideas
Put a stake through them.
Opening up the truth
Coming together
To do the people’s business
That is what we must all do.
###
There is a Great Sense of Unrest.
There is a great sense.
Of unrest in the land today
Madness in the air
Previous publication (2020)
Literary Yard has just published my Dog Poems. The earlier published my Cosmic Calendar poems. Here they are for your amusement. these are companion pieces for my cat poems.
And look cute
And someone will feed him
And give him water
A dog has no worries
No cares at all
And when a Dog
Wants some loving
All it needs to do
Is find the nearest
Female dog
And enjoy himself
Without guilt
And without worrying
About getting married
Or having an affair
Just simple
Sex in the doggie way
Nothing simpler
Than that
Yes
A dog’s life
Is the life for me?
###
The Dogs of War are Howling
dogs of war howlingdog of war poster
The Dogs of War
Have been set free
Of their cage
And are out
Howling at the moon
The Dogs of War
Have been set free
To wreck what havoc
Might be
Yes, the Dogs of War
The Hell Hounds
Have bound out of their cages
Sniffed about
And smiled
At the destruction, they saw
They knew soon
They would be in their element
As the world descends into chaos
The world saw
The face of pure evil
That fine September morning
A morning like any other morning
Until a fateful moment
When two planes
Came out of the sky
And destroyed
The center of world capitalism
In an act of horrific violence
An act of such evil
That is beyond the comprehension
Of mere mortal man
Surely there must
Be a reason why
That particular day
The world almost ended
The Dogs of war
Are at foot
The chaos is upon us
The evil grows and grows
And dark noises are heard
Here and there
A Jehad had been launched
By the holly lunatics
Misguided warriors
Who thought they were fighting
The great Satan
Not knowing that their hearts and minds
Were corrupted and controlled
By Satan himself
Somewhere in the world
That morning
A door opened
And a man walked through
Flipped a switch
And let loose
The chaos that ensured
The world watched with horror
And fascination
As in real-time
A dynamite action movie unfolded
Only this was not any movie, punk
It was real life
Live and uncensored
With the music of the devil
Playing at full volume
As people died
Burning alive
And the dogs of war
Smiled
They knew soon
They would be in their element
As America
The Sleeping Giant
Again woke up
And realized
That they would have to fight back
Against their enemies
The war machine
Came to life
The plans came out of the books
The military might be unleashed
And the Dogs of war
Smiled and howled at the moon
The machinery of war
Once unleashed
Can’t easily be stopped
There is a certain cruel logic
That demands that the war going on
And people die
And people suffer
And the stock market crashes
And the evil that men do
Goes on and on and on
###
The Cosmic Dog from Goa
My final time with God
Happened a year later
I was staying down in Goa
With my wife
Enjoying being with her
After our reconciliation
We stayed at the Taj Mahal Goa
Living like Kings and Queen
Just for a few days
High up on a hill
Overlooking the beach
Every morning I went down to the beach
And did yoga by the water
While contemplating life
And every morning
I saw the same dog
Not just a dog
But a cosmic dog
Filled with the divine spark of God
And the dog recognized me
And spoke to me and I knew
That God was present once more
In the face of that cosmic dog
Kindred spirit
perhaps to the cosmic cat
that had saved my soul
in Berkeley so long ago
I told the dog everything
And he just looked at me
With those soulful eyes of his
And I knew he knew that I knew
That he was possessed by God
God had sent him to me
To make sure
that I was on the right path
That the reconciliation that God had promoted
Was on a track that I was back with my wife
And that everything was the way it should be
Again, I asked God whether he was Jesus or Allah
Or Brahmin or Ganesh or Buddha
God the cosmic dog just stared at me
I finally asked him directly
Say if you are God the God of Jesus
Bark once
The Dog looked at me and barked
I said
well, if you are Allah bark twice
The dog barked twice
Well are you buddha
then bark three times if yes
The god dog barked three times
Hmm well are you Satan
The dog growled at me
And I knew I had gone too far
Finally, I was at peace
And for the next three days
The God Dog from Goa
was my constant companion
And I knew God for the final time
In my life?
###
Agnostic Dyslectic Wonders if There is a Dog
cute dog
an agnostic dyslectic
stays up all night
wondering if there is a dog
the Buddhists wonder
about the Buddha-nature of the dog
the evangelicals
are sure that there is a dog
and you must follow their dog
or go to hell
for following another’s dog
the Muslims agree
there is only one dog
and the dogs
smile at the foolishness
of the human race
of course, there is a dog
and they are the master race
as they growl at their owners
who bow down
and clean up their mess?
###
I Want a Dog’s Life
O
I want a dog’s life
That’s what I want in my next life
A dog needs to be cute
And his master will feed him
It is a dog’s life for me
###
The Messenger Dog of God
One day
While studying in Rome
As a priest
I notice a small white dog
Staring at me
He glances at me
Indicating that I am to follow him
I get up
And follow this strange dog
He leads me deep
Inside the hidden depths
Of the Vatican
Finally stopping by a door
I open the door
And see St Peter there
He smiles
Dismisses the dog
Who moves on down the hall
Finished with his cosmic duty
As the secret messenger of God
All in a day’s work?
I ask why I am here?
St Peter says
Why are any of us here?
It is time for you to go
But I don’t want to go
Don’t want to leave this mortal plane
St Peter smiles
Says it is time to go
I wake up
Back in my bed
With my wife
And realize it was all a dream
It was not yet time
To go
But I am afraid
I will find the messenger dog
Outside my door
Any day now
The grim reaper waits
And it will soon be my time
Poem: Cosmos’s Cosmic Calendar
cosmic calendar
January
January arrives cold as death warmed over
As I make my annual list of resolutions
Of the great things, I would do
The lies I tell myself to keep me going
While recovering from the hangover of the year before
With regrets for the evitable passing of time itself
And snowbound cold nights of wild passion
As we delay death’s knocking on the door
February
February is a strange month
Cold, short, and eventful
In the U.S. The political season heats up
As politicians rush about
Making their campaign lies
Full of promises of things to come
As we the 99 % huddle down inside
Watching the lies on TV
Outside Winter’s last dying breath
March
March roars in full of sound and furry
Signifying the future marching down upon us all
And March madness hits the sports world
And politicians meet to plot and scheme
As we bravely battle the cosmic elements
Waiting for the promised spring
Hay fever greets me
With the early spring flowers
April
April is indeed the cruelest month of all
So many important events occurred
Kim Il Sung’s Birthday, Hitler’s Birthday
And in the U.S. the dreaded tax man cometh
To take it all away as the flowers overwhelm
And Spring Fever takes hold
Driving us all mad
With strange erotic desires
May
May is in many ways
My second favorite month of all
The flowers are blooming bright
The mountains are aflame with desire
The summer heat is coming
The plans for the year are coming along
The political campaigns heat up
And good movies come out
Star Wars arrived
Spiderman and superman and batman
All came out to play
In late May
And baseball begins in earnest
And most importantly
My wife was born
June
June is always a month of transition
End of the school year
Summer transfer season
People leaving people coming
Hurricanes and Tornados attacking
And wars starting and people dying
As fireflies buzz about
And rabbits eat my garden
As the summer heat descends upon the land
I walk late at night
Recalling that Watergate
Occurred in June
July
July is the queen of the summer season
As she heats the land
Throwing storm after summer storm
And politicians run away
After the July fourth fireworks
Man landed on the moon
Richard Nixon Left the White House
And we all know that half the year
Has flown by
August
So much has happened
During the hottest most hellish of months
Despite the summer sauna that descends upon the land
Enervating all driving people mad with the heat
World War 1 started
World War 11 ended
Hiroshima ushered in the nuclear age
Hurricanes Katrina and Harvey
And tornado ally
All roar down upon the land
And I met the love of my life
Getting off a bus
One August evening
September
What can one say about September
Like June a month of transitions?
And one is filled with ambition
Wanting to finish up what one started
Before the fall arrives
And Winter is hinting it is coming
School starts
New jobs start
New people come into one’s life
And like August’s hangover
Big earth-shattering events happen
The fall of the stock market
The housing bubble bursting
The endless budget games
As the politicians argue
Whether to bankrupt the country
To make a political point or two
And 9-11 terrorizing the world
All September’s gifts to the land
October
October is my favorite month of all
The leaves turn
The weather is usually delightful
Just a tease of the coming winter
Fall ball season underway
Baseball games and Halloween madness
ends the month with a huge bang
And I celebrate my legal birth on the 29th
Also, the day I legally got married
And on October 30, 1955
I was born
And Rock n Roll was born as well
Coincidence I think not
November
November is one of the strange months
Begins like a hangover of October
Then it turns ugly and weird
Political fever hits the land
Every two years
As the people brave the early November chill
To decide what fools they will send to DC
The politicians lie and scheme and plot
And beg and lie again
And the world turns
And the new leaders emerge
Welcome the new Bosses
Same as the old bosses
Just new packaging
And Donald Trump storms the barricades
Threatening the establishment’s stranglehold
On America and the world
Yes, November is a strange month
December
Perhaps the loneliness month of all
The most consequential of all the months
And yet also the most depressing end of time
Kind of month
If the apocalypse zombie or otherwise
Were to occur
It would be in December
That is the sort of insane month it is
The end of the year
As darkness settles down on the land
And holiday parties abound
Full of false cheer
And faked love
And for those who don’t celebrate Christmas
A lonely day perhaps at the movies
A few awkward calls to the relatives
Then New Years
Watching the world end
Drinking up a storm
And knowing that the year ended
And you are one step closer to the grave
Falling rain
falling rain
The falling rain
Of late October
Fills me with essential dread
As I rush about
And end up here
Wherever here is
The rain outside
Seems like the tears of god
As I sit
Crying over my beer
Thinking of lost love
And failed dreams
Wondering
What went wrong?
And what I can set right
And the rain falls
And the night darkens
The rain is falling
All over this man’s world
And the rain falls
And I sit
Drinking my lonesome drink
Lost in dreams
Dreaming of what
Could never be
Thinking dark thoughts
And so I sit
And dream the night away
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Updated with complete list. Due to time differences you may miss the deadline. if so, please contact the authors directly to see if they will be willing to send you a copy. And please feel free to message me on FB or at my email authorjakecosmosaller@gmail and I will send you a copy of my chapbook (printed below as well) to whatever email address you provide.
thanks. This is the third time I have participated in this annual event.
Book Free-For-All Submission
Thanks for joining the 2021 Poetry Super Highway E-book Free-For-All!
We’ve received your submission and as long as your e-book description is 50 words or less, we’ll add it to the list of e-books which will be available to download for 24 hours on December 1st! (If your description is longer than 50 words, look for a follow up email from us asking you to shorten it.)
All submitted e-books will be freely available to download on December 1st for 24 hours, and when it’s all done, we’ll put up a page showing how many times each was downloaded.
Here’s what you submitted:
April 2021 Poetic Madness by Jake Aller
Every April for the last few years, I have been competing in the annual April Poetry month competitions. This year I wrote 8 poems a day for a month. Here are the selected poems from that month of poetic madness. https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com
A crazy project in which your poetry e-books will be freely available to all interested humans on Earth for 24 hours.
Throughout November we will collect e-books from poets and writers interested in participating.
Then on December 1st, for 24 hours, a special website will go live with links to all of the e-books. For 24 hours anyone will be free to download, for free, as many of these e-books as they like…a poetry e-book free-for-all.
How?
To participate, read all of the guidelines below and then click on our Online Submission Form. That’s it. It’s simple. By doing so, your e-book will be included.
The E-Book has to be written by you.
E-books should be in PDF Format for universal compatibility with anyone’s computer.
If you have an e-book in Microsoft Word or another format, please convert it to PDF. One way to do this (if you don’t know how) is to visit the website http://www.freepdfconvert.com/. From there you will be allowed to select the file on your computer which will be uploaded and emailed back to you in PDF format.
When creating your e-book file, please keep it smaller than 1 megabyte.
Once you’ve created your e-book (not before), click on our Online
Submission Form to join in!
Do not fill out the form and then e-mail us your e-book later. Please fill out the form and use it to upload your e-book to us.
We are not accepting e-books or submissions by e-mail. The only way to join in is by clicking on the Online Submission Form below.
On December 1 at Midnight (the evening of November 30), we will distribute a special e-mail letting people know the location of the web page with links to all of the e-book files. People will be free to download any or all of the titles and your poetry will be freely, electronically, traveling all over the world. This web page will go offline 24 hours later at Midnight on December 2nd.
We will also list your e-book and description on this web page along with the link to your website for all to see.
The mission of the Poetry Super Highway is to expose as many people to as many other people’s poetry as possible.
Download 75 Free E-Books Now!
Thanks to everyone who donated e-books to this project. All of the books are now available for download by clicking on “Download Now” next to the author’s name below.
Books will remain available until Midnight tonight (Tuesday evening December 1st Pacific).
Check back here on December 2 to see how many of each were downloaded.
E-Books:
Agnostics Sing of Angels and Asks Why in Hell Not, the by Stephen Mead (Download this E-Book)
Poems dating back to the 1990s & onward, revised but only typed in the last year, these words of spiritual seeking are rooted in the basic human need to find meaning to cope with and even celebrate existence. https://postcardsfromthedeepstephenmeadart.weebly.com/
April 2021 Poetic Madness by Jake Aller (Download this E-Book)
Every April for the last few years, I have been competing in the annual April Poetry month competitions. This year I wrote 8 poems a day for a month. Here are the selected poems from that month of poetic madness. https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com
Artists, Unknown by LB Sedlacek (Download this E-Book)
Art doesn’t hum, notes found in notebooks or dropped in a parking lot make for good poems, howling dogs, tattoos, pineapples that look like grenades, kissing, and cartoons, cereal, spark plugs and action heroes — all things that make these poems a little bit different. http://www.lbsedlacek.com
Bavarian Home / Bayerisch Heimat by Duane L Herrmann (Download this E-Book)
These poems by Duane L Herrmann reflect and share his experiences in his hometown of his great grandfather whose last name he shares. They are in both English and German and are forthcoming from the Origami Poems Project as TWO mirco chapbooks.
Betelgeuse Dimming by Jean-Paul L. Garnier (Download this E-Book)
A collection of speculative poetry. Nominated for the 2021 Elgin Award. Comes with free musical audiobook version download. https://spacecowboybooks.com/
Bigfoot Parchments, the by Richard Rensberry (Download this E-Book)
The Bigfoot Parchments are a poetic journey into the knowledge and secrets of how the Sasquatch read minds and warp time/space in order to appear and disappear at will. They also contain simple but profound truths that cannot be violated if one is to achieve the Sasquatch way to enlightenment. https://www.conversationswithsasquatch.com
Blue Soul, A by Gabriella Garofalo (Download this E-Book)
My irrepressible longing for reshaping in a new life the splinters of ice and life that wound me, so as to give them a fresh soul, is the drive enabling my words to be pervaded by that green fuse we might think of as the life and soul of poetry.
Bokeh Focus: Poems by Raymond Luczak (Download this E-Book)
With Bokeh Focus, Raymond Luczak trains his photographer’s eye as a gay man upon his subjects and examines the impact of imagery on one’s own identity. http://www.raymondluczak.com/
Castles, wombs, armies, and pentecosts by R. Bremner (Download this E-Book)
R. Bremner’s second book of poems, originally written in the late 1970s, updated with a few additions in the 1980s.
Circling the Sun by Gaynor Kane (Download this E-Book)
A micro-collection (from the Stickleback series, published by the Hedgehog Poetry Press) of poems about the early aviatrixes https://gaynorkane.com/
Clean as a Broke Dick Dog by Alex Stolis (Download this E-Book)
A story with a soundtrack, previously released by Red Ceilings Press
Close Encounters Chapbook by Elizabeth Marchitti (Download this E-Book)
A chapbook of my personal experiences, starting with meeting Santa on the elevator on my way to my cardioologist’s office.
Concupiscent Consumption by LindaAnn LoSchiavo (Download this E-Book)
Visit the love doctor: recall your first kiss, a sultry fling, that secret kink. “Concupiscent Consumption” is for anyone who’s ever been in love — or lost in lust. ― Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ― https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHm1NZIlTZybLTFA44wwdfg
Dance is You, the by Shola Balogun (Download this E-Book)
The Dance is You is a rich collection with the ordered flow of original verses and inventive colourful vibrations. This book of poems, presents dance as the autobiography of the soul, the expression of what we call life, and the encounter with the self. https://www.amazon.com/Shola-Balogun/e/B00LPRQU10?ref_=pe_1724030_132998060
Dancing Under the Moon by Joan Leotta (Download this E-Book)
Poems that show the joy of loving all things moon-related. Written about the rising moon and the early morning moon-set poems all on one page and then foldable into a mini book
December 2014 by Jim Bennett (Download this E-Book)
In December 2014 Jim Bennett wrote a poem every day. Many of these poems were later published but here these poems are brought together in the order they were written. https://poetrykit.org
Discovery by Don Krieger (Download this E-Book)
Discovery is a hybrid collection in three sections: America, Childhood’s End, To Save a Life. It’s an easy and interesting read — I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Thank you for reading it. The PDF is formatted for “Two Page View” in your PDF reader. All my best – Don http://DonsPoetryPage.com
Duality Of Moonlight, The by Kirsten G. Munro (Download this E-Book)
This wonderful poetry book is filled with different poems and situations exploring the darkness and light that humans have within them.
Ducks by Don Kingfisher Campbell (Download this E-Book)
Poems composed in the last baker’s dozen years about anything duckie. Titles include: American Juror Pool, 7 AM Relativity, CNN Universe, May the fourth be with you, Love Arboretum, Magical Legg, and The Big Pineapple!
Fantastic Forms by Don Kingfisher Campbell (Download this E-Book)
Poems composed in the last 24 years about things fantastic and forms. Titles include: How Did Heaven Begin, Just an Apple, Women in Starbucks, Facebook Newsfeed Sonnets, and A pair of lips for the apocalypse. http://dkc1031.blogspot.com
Fib Sequence by Larissa Shmailo (Download this E-Book)
Like the seeds on the head of a sunflower, the poems, translations, and story in Fib Sequence whorl according to a special pattern. Here you will find arachnids, jealous women, numbers, and half truths.. https://larissashmailo.com
Flatman: Poems of Protest in the Trump Era by Cheryl Caesar (Download this E-Book)
This book chronicles the reign of a villain in villanelles — and other poetry forms. http://caesarc.msu.domains/
Horrific Punctuation by John Reinhart (Download this E-Book)
Commas scratch poisoned marks in blood, Thor makes an enthusiastic appearance! shotguns make dark holes to mark the end…or maybe the beginning of something new. Zombies, harpies, Odin, yeti…they’re all here in this chapbook of monstrous punctuation-themed poems. http://home.hampshire.edu/~jcr00/reinhart.html
I Am The Tang You Are The Handle by Jim Bennett (Download this E-Book)
In this selection of poems Jim Bennett looks at relationships. From one end to the other. https://poetrykit.org
Intricate Things in their Fringed Peripheries by Cheryl Snell (Download this E-Book)
In Cheryl Snell’s new collection of lyrical free verse narratives, the poet meditates on moments of light and shadow, and how the world is made and unmade by the least of us Intricate Things in their Fringed Peripheries. https://www.facebook.com/cheryl.snell/
Journey So Far, The by Rachel Berger (Download this E-Book)
A selection of poems written from adolescence to adulthood. These poems are about my journey through traumatic experiences in my life. I seek to help and encourage others with my words to overcome their traumatic experiences and live a successful life.
Last Time I Had To See You, the by Victoria Hunter (Download this E-Book)
The Last Time I Had To See You is a chapbook of poems that first came as journal sketches of Victoria’s daydreams of splashes of blood, echoes of mind-gripping space, and dates with ghosts. The poems celebrate the authors’ ability to hook the reader with various creative writing techniques. https://amzn.to/3rAAR3B
Leaving Home: Discoveries and Reflections of a Once-Sheltered Heart by Randal Burd (Download this E-Book)
Leaving Home takes the reader on a life-changing journey. There will be tears, the sudden burst of laughter, and a warm smile that will linger on your face like the glow of a fading summer day as you discover the truth of what it means to love, lose, and live. http://theedgeofmemory.com
Left of the Dial by Alex Stolis (Download this E-Book)
A chapbook released by corrupt press, a series of poems written while listening to late night radio
Library Poems by Don Kingfisher Campbell (Download this E-Book)
Poems composed in and around libraries over the past 24 years. Put together to raise funds for the Sims Library of Poetry. If you wish, please make a donation to that fine place. Enjoy! http://dkc1031.blogspot.com
Loss of Sense, the by Colin Dardis (Download this E-Book)
THE LOSS OF SENSE is an experimental prose poem in twenty-four parts. Framed within the context of a twenty-four hour cycle, the poem breaks down typical sentence construction and use of language to mirror the seemingly non-linear thought processes of the depressed mind. http://www.colindardispoet.co.uk
Love Objects by Don Kingfisher Campbell (Download this E-Book)
Poems composed in the last lucky thirteen years about love and objects. Titles include: How Dark Is It, My Object Life, Thanks to Ten Circling Electrons, Powerlines above butterflies, and Thirteen Ways of Looking at Poppies. http://dkc1031.blogspot.com
Loveless land-Happyn hell poems by Hanoch Guy (Download this E-Book)
PLeasures and tortures of love are articulated in this chapbook. Lovers are doomed to go through yearning fulfillment and bitter disappointments.
Making a Show of Myself 2020/21 by Jim Bennett (Download this E-Book)
Each year Jim sellects a set of poems to be used at readings and 2020 was no different apart from the fact that everything was cancelled. So here is the show that never was and how, given the chance, Jim would have made a show of himself. https://poetrykit.org
Metaphorical Moon, the by John Mannone (Download this E-Book)
The Metaphorical Moon is a chapbook collection of moon-related poetry. The poems are arbitrarily divided into four (non-mutually exclusive) sections covering childhood, family, lovers, nature, environment, philosophy and spirituality. Some of the poems involve solar or lunar eclipses, in which the sun, moon and Earth are all involved. https://jcmannone.wordpress.com
Morning by Morning by Joan Leotta (Download this E-Book)
Poems of Dawn
Six poems of dawn printable on a single page, foldable into a mini book
Published by Origami poems
Morning by Morning and Dancing Under the Moon, two free mini-chapbooks are at https://www.origamipoems.com/poets/257-joan-leotta
Musings on a Native Life by Duane L Herrmann (Download this E-Book)
In these poems the author explores the loss of his Native ancestry and heritage. An estimated forty percent of Americans, whose ancestors came to North America before the nineteenth century, have Native or African blood, or both. Maybe more thought will be given by more people to this possibility. https://dlherrmann.wixsite.com/home
My Country – My People & Selected Poetry by Seshendra Sharma Sharma (Download this E-Book)
Seshendra is colossus of modern Poetry. His literature is a unique blend of the best of poetry and poetics. His Homepage : Seshendra:Visionary Poet of the Millennium presents essence / spirit of the millennium in powerful poetic style. Seshendra Sharma is one of the most outstanding minds of modern. http://seshendrasharma.weebly.com
Naked Truth, the by JR Simons (Download this E-Book)
This is J. R. Simons’ second chapbook of poetry, filled with poems that tell the naked truth about society and culture. https://bit.ly/3wKq3Aj
Nasty Girls by Lynne Bronstein (Download this E-Book)
A collection of poems about women who broke the rules, did what they wanted to do, slept with whom they wanted, and were sometimes really nasty.
Natural Elements by Duane L Herrmann (Download this E-Book)
Natural Elemenst is a collection of 27 poems celebrating the natural prairie world. Herrmann has lived on the American prairie for seven decades, distilled in these poems. His prairie roots go deeper and further than his life, the fifth generation of European descent and untold generations of Native peoples. https://dlherrmann.wixsite.com/home
october love (smells sweet like rot) by julzzz hazard & al yen (Download this E-Book)
The authors introduce a teaser of their upcoming chapbook “october love (smells sweet like rot).” The poems included are inspired by Halloween vibes and authors’ love for twisted gore-y metaphors. The complete chapbook is going to be tightly packed with thrill, naughtiness and our visual art as a creepy bonus. http://yourlocaldreamers.com/
On the Run with Dick and Jane by Alex Stolis (Download this E-Book)
A mini chapbook released by Yavanika Press, a series of poems that chronicles a road trip by Dick and Jane
Once You Find The Right Dream by Kaye Abikhaled (Download this E-Book)
Life becomes simpler once you find your personal direction. Then follow your dream.
Permit Wonder by Jan Keough (Download this E-Book)
PERMIT WONDER is a wondrous book of compassionate and honest poems that always ring true. In writing her own story, Jan Keough lets you recognize your own. Humans and animals alike are finely observed in this collection of poems. https://jankeough.com/
Petals by I. B. Rad (Download this E-Book)
Petals portrays the evolving relationship between the primary author and his late wife, Mari Lyn, from the beginning through “old” age and beyond. It’s not your typical tribute. But take a look and decide for yourself!
Plains of Heaven, the by F. J. Bergmann (Download this E-Book)
12 ekphrastic poems accompanied by full-color images of the paintings by Kelli Hoppmann that inspired them. https://fibitz.com/
Poetry Love Sex Music Booze & Death, 2018 by Bruce Taylor (Download this E-Book)
About half my poems have historically found themselves in what might be considered more “traditional forms”: Sonnets, Villanelles, Sonnets. Sestinas. This collection brings together many of those poems in one volume. I know it is an aggressive title, one response I got when announced, was “Yeah, but what’s it about?” https://people.uwec.edu/taylorb/
Rain Girl, The by Rose Mary Boehm (Download this E-Book)
Vivid and lush, with a voice that you will not forget, THE RAIN GIRL is an absolute pleasure. What a delight to experience the world as Boehm does from “birch and ash on witches’ brooms” to the “Snow geese… in baobab trees”. Simply lovely. https://www.rose-mary-boehm-poet.com/
Random Thoughts Through Corona by Joolz Juliet (Download this E-Book)
This E-book is about the random thoughts that occurred at the onset, during and after the initial shock of the corona virus pandemic. Thoughts ran rampant as many of us navigated the desolate world. https://joolzmjulietfreelancewriter.mystrikingly.com/
Repulsion Thrust by Magdalena Ball (Download this E-Book)
“This debut full-length poetry collection by Australian poet Magdalena Ball is full of poetic thrust, propelling the reader through thought-provoking and beautifully crafted considerations of love, illness, identity, genetics, the environment, planet – and more!” ~Sarah James http://www.magdalenaball.com
Rumblings2021 by Rosalind Lee (Download this E-Book)
A rather pessimistic look back and forwards, not sure if its worth reading at all, as I haven’t written much poetry for ages. I have been bullied by a group of money mad mind reading Nazi types. All screaming they are victims of the holocaust, and are affected! Enjoy! http://www.anglohenge.co.uk
Sampler Sampler by Don Kingfisher Campbell (Download this E-Book)
A sampling of chapbooked works over the past 24 years. Titles include: Campbell’s Travels, Owed to Aluminum, I’m in Love with This Building, Because I’m a Performer in the Theater of Life, A Gerund Life, Mouchette, Inside My Jambo Head, Granada Park Love, and Analogy Planets. http://dkc1031.blogspot.com
Satan in Chicago by Eric Evans (Download this E-Book)
Satan In Chicago from Eric Evans and features his take on far-flung topics like Fahrenheit 451, soldiers in the Terracotta Army, the lovemaking habits of acrobats, and the judgmental nature of crows. “Fans of poetry filled with heartbreak and humor,’ writes Broken Pencil magazine, “must check out Evans’ work.” https://inkpublications1.wixsite.com/mysite
So Be It by Ralph Culver (Download this E-Book)
A chapbook of thirteen poems by Ralph Culver that the late Marvin Bell called “brilliant from start to finish.” “So deft and moving are his poems that they will long abide as reminders of what it is to be human.” –Sydney Lea https://madhat-press.com/products/a-passable-man-by-ralph-culver
Solitude Album by Mary Langer Thompson (Download this E-Book)
Sixteen of Mary Langer Thompson’s recent poems focusing on loneliness or fear of being alone.
Soul Songs by Duane L Herrmann (Download this E-Book)
Nineteen poems inspired by the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh, Prophet-Founder of the Bahá’í Faith which has three foundational principles: one Creator, one creation (one human race), and one stream of Divine Revelation which has progressively guided mankind. We are in a time of transition and new divine guidance is needed. https://dlherrmann.wixsite.com/home
Tale of Twin Cities by Alex Stolis (Download this E-Book)
A collection of call and response poems about Minneapolis and St. Paul written by Michael Gausse and Alex Stolis. released by Fowlpox press
There Will Be a Reckoning: Poetry of Magic and Dread by David Vandervort (Download this E-Book)
Welcome to a world of ghosts and vampires, of serial apocalypses and terrifying visions. The world is cracked, burning, lost. Count on nothing, though. These poems come from a strange, fevered place, where humor masks tragedy and angels and demons keep score. The end is nigh. Trust me.
This Will Remain With Us by Melissa Mendelson (Download this E-Book)
As a frontline worker, I had no choice but to face this new threat, and as I did, my heart bled, sweeping across the pages of this book.
Two Friends by Craig Kirchner (Download this E-Book)
Some recent musings of friends coming and going.
Two of Us, The by David Feela (Download this E-Book)
The Two of Us is a short collection of chatter fiction, totally written as “quote, unquote” dialogue. Poetic…maybe, but It is intended to be funny, so occasionally you may involuntarily laugh, or at least smile. http://feelasophy.weebly.com
Unreliable Narratives by Magdalena Ball (Download this E-Book)
In Unreliable Narratives, Magdalena Ball invites us to open a Pandora’s box of memories. Like smoke rising from a candle and casting shadows and lights that shift and evade, the poems morph and twist with the dexterity of a master poet. They will draw you in. http://www.magdalenaball.com
Vipercity by Vincent Zepp (Download this E-Book)
A multiverse Tour de Force from Vincent Zepp.
Weightlifter by Michael Estabrook (Download this E-Book)
One no-longer-young man’s dealings with the trials and tribulations of staying in shape by lifting weights, even though he’s aware that that particular ship has sailed.
April Poetry Madness 2021 Poetry from the Mad Cosmos
By
Jake Cosmos Aller
Available December 1, 2021. Watch for the link.
This is the fifth time I did the April poetry challenge. The goal is to write at least one poem per day. I am averaging about eight per day and posting four reserving four as “unpublished”. I am basing the poems on prompts from “Writing com Dew Drop Inn”, “Writers Digest”, “Poetry Superhighway” and “NaPoWrMo” prompt daily prompts and on “Pensively Prompt’ et all daily prompts. I am combining prompts where possible. I will post these here in batches every five days or so. Each poem will have an image that helped inspire the poem. All postings will be podcasted a few days later on Spotify and elsewhere. Each posting will be a separate posting, but the index will be cumulative. The final posting will have the complete list of all poems written whether posted or not. Comments welcome but please keep it civil. Some of my poetry tends to be a bit “in your face” or “political” from a “leftwing perspective.” If it offends you in some way, please accept my apologies in advance. That is never my intent.
I wrote more than 200 poems and so this is a selected list. The complete list can be found on my web page, https://theworldaccordingtocosmos along with 2020, 2019, 2018, and 2017 poems. For 2022 I will enter it again and post daily on my blog, my podcast, writing com, all poetry, writer’s digest, and NaPoWrMo sites.
Index
Pre-April Writer’s Digest Warm-Up Poems
Let’s Resolve
Old Man Reflects Upon Universal Truth
Almost Died 22 Times
Every Day I Turn on My Computer
Thursday, April 1, 2021
Coffee Pot Blues Poetry
Who Is Jake Cosmos Aller?
Good Golly, Miss Molly
Sam Adams Woke Up Dead
Friday, April 2, 2021
Stranded on Mars
Falling in Love with My Dream Woman,
Voila! (Remember Something in A Short Lyric Burst)
The Future Is Here
Saturday, April 3, 2021
Life as a Retired Expat in Korea
Modern Connections Writers Digest
Surprise Haiku
Personal Universe Deck Superman on Mars
Cat People Weather Poem
Sunday, April 4, 2021
Mirror Poem Errors in My Life
Little Houses on The Hill-Side
Monday April 5, 2021
The First Time I Saw Her
Not Alone
Potential Mistake
We are Living in SF World
Life is a Dream of Chocolate Covered Trees
Memories of JC Write About an Eccentric Character
Mary’s Tales from the Grave
God’s to Do List
Imprisoned for a Crime He Did Not Do
They Both Giggled All the Time
What is Love?
Prime Love
Three Tea Haiku for Teaku Competition Haiku
Mad Monk in the temple
In The Morning Light
Drinking his hot tea
link available on December 1, 2021
The End
Begin Poems
Let’s Resolve
Let’s resolve
Live each moment
Each day
As if it were our last day
Let’s resolve
Every day to love
And honor one another
Let’s resolve
To never give in
To hate and fear
To always keep in mind
Today could be our last
Old Man Reflects Upon Universal Truth
An old man
Reflects upon universal truths
That he had learned
In his 65 years
Of traveling around the sun
First the most important thing
In life is getting love right
Love did drive everything
Second universal truth
Love will always eventually
Find a way
Third universal truth
Hate will never prevail
In the end love and light
Will conquer the fear
And darkness
He smiled
And went for a walk
With his wife
The love of his life
For today’s prompt, write a universal poem. The poem could be about a universal truth, universal experience, or a film from Universal Pictures. There’s an entire universe worth of material for today’s poem
Writer’s digest prompt
Almost Died 22 Times
I almost died 22 times
I almost died 22 times
In my life
Had Typhoid fever
Had Dengue
Had an MDRS staff infection
Had 14 operations
Almost amputated my leg
Almost ran over by a bus
Almost ran over by a train
Had acute GI infection
That could have killed me
Had a rare parasite
Whose only know the function
Is it blows up if you get steroids?
Had fibromyalgia
Had arthritis
Had bronchitis
Had pneumonia
Had the flue several times
Had whooping cough
Had measles
Had German measles
Had whooping cough
Born with bad vision
Born with bad teeth
Born with bad hearing
Born as a preemie
I have lived 65 years
And am still alive
And have not gotten
COVID
So perhaps I will live
On for many more years
For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Almost (blank),” replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: “Almost Ready,” “Almost Missed It,” and/or “Almost Didn’t Write This Poem.”
Every day I turn
On my computerAnd pray
That everything will work right
Usually, I encounter numerous errors
Non-response errors
Spinning blue balls
Computer thinking
How can I mess
With my master head errors
Refusing
To open documents
Mysterious haiku-like error messages
That makes sense only to computer geeks
From the planet Mars
Saying the file is open
And blocked for use
By the administrator
But I am the
Damn administrator!
And I did not block the document
Or can’t open the document
Due to a dialogue box
Close the dialogue box
To proceed
But there is no dialogue box
Just more lies
From my computer
Designed to drive me
Quite mad
So sad
So bad
Want to shoot my computer
Put it out of its mystery
Joining the other five dead
Computers in my house
Am I a computer serial killer?
Perhaps that is why
Do they refuse to work for me?
Are they afraid of me?
Sometimes they say
They can’t find the document
Which just kicked me out of
Five minutes ago
Or the computer says
It can’t save a document
With the name of an open document
But just saved the open document
Under the same name
Five minutes ago
Usually
After half an hour
These errors recede
But I often have to reboot
The computer
Giving it the old kick up the head
Of a stubborn mule treatment
Before it gets to the point
And gets to work
To give Microsoft some credit
These errors are less frequent
Down to 40% of the time
When I first open a document
Down from 90% error rates
Success in a way
I complained to Microsoft
Sent them a nice frown message
But I would be shocked
If they ever respond
Just not something
That they would do
Part of their “superior”
Listen to their customer
Friendly service
No doubt
For today’s prompt, write a warm-up poem. The warm-up could be related to sports, like warming up before a baseball game or track race. Or it could be about a computer warming up, the weather warming up, or even a relationship warming up. I hope everyone is warmed up for some major poeming in April
Writer’s Digest Prompt
Thursday, April 1, 2021
Coffee Pot Blues
Coffee Pot Blues
The coffee pot sighed
He was getting so tired
Of the whole COVID thing
Every morning his master
Would make himself two cups of coffee
Using him to make the coffee
The worst thing about this covid thing
It keeps them home
For almost one and half years
He wanted them to just leave
So, he could have
Some peace
And not have to work
Every damn day
As their mechanical slave
But did they ask for his opinion
They most certainly not
Much to his dismay
Pick an object where you live and write a poem in the voice of that object describing how they spent this last year, during the pandemic. Think about the “What I Did Last Summer” type of essays you may have written in school. How did the events of the past year impact this object? Are there any aspects of the past year that the object particularly liked or disliked, and if so, why? What does the object think about you, and your behavior over the past year? Feel free to use humor.
Poetry Superhighway Prompt
Who Is Jake Cosmos Aller?
Who is Jake Cosmos Aller?
You asked me
Who am I?
And thanks for asking me
I am Jake Cosmos Aller
The only
65 years old
Retired from
the government services
Living in Korea
Grew up in Berkeley, California
Lived all over the world
Did so many things
And now
I am a published writer
But what
is more important
Is this
When I was a young man
I met and married
The girl of my dreams
She walked out
of my dreams
Into my life
almost 40 years ago
That was the date
I met my fate
And started my life
With the love of my life
Who became my wife
In the end
That is all that matters
My friends.
For today’s prompt, write an introductory poem. Introduce yourself, introduce a friend, or introduce a stranger. If you don’t wish to introduce yourself, consider writing a persona poem (a poem in which you write from someone else’s point of view like Emily Dickinson or a bumblebee). Of course, you could also introduce a problem, solution, or just a situation. Have fun with it!
Writer’s Digest Prompt
Good Golly, Miss Molly
Good Golly,
Miss Molly
What a bit of folly
Let’s be jolly
Have a red-hot tamale
Here at the Dew Drop Inn, we gather together to write a poem a day in April as a way to celebrate National Poetry Month.
A Dew-Drop a Day in April for National Poetry Month!
April 1—Folly in Rhyme (some kind of folly in some kind of rhyme, subtle or overt)
Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Prompt
Sam Adams Woke Up Dead
Sam Adams was having a bad day
He had met a strange man
In a strange bar, in a strange land
The man told him
Beware, today is the date
You will meet your fate
Sam Adams drank too much
Twenty drinks too sober
Drank until he died
Found himself in a huge room
With hundreds of people milling about
The hangover from h … pounding his head
Sam Adams groans,
Shouting out
Where am I?
“In limbo, my friend, in limbo”
Growled Mr. GR, the grim reaper
Dressed in a sharp, expensive, tailored black suit
Wearing cool sunglasses
State your name
Sam Adams
Hmm
Oh, there may be a mistake
But what the hey,
The records are never fake
Not yet the date
For you to meet your fate
Go back to your mate
He found himself
Home with his wife
The love of his long life
Wondering until late
If it had happened?
What was his fate?
He asked her
Did I go out last night?
What, no you’ve been here
He explained what had happened
She said it was just a bad dream
Covid fears had kept them home
The phone rang
It was the man from the bar
Did you have an interesting night?
Oh well, Mr. GR comes for us all
Soon you will meet your fate
But not on this date
And without further ado, our daily prompt (optional, as always)! Sometimes, writing poetry is a matter of getting outside of your head, and learning to see the world in a new way. To an extent, you have to “derange” yourself – make the world strange and see it as a stranger might. To help you do that, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem inspired by this animated version of “Seductive Fantasy” by Sun Ra and his Orchestra. If you don’t feel after watching it a little bit like the top of your head’s been taken off, and your thoughts are given a good stir – well, maybe you are already living in a state of heightened poetic awareness!
NaPoWrMo Prompt
Cat Thoughts –
black cat
I often think about Cats
Where do they come from?
What are they?
Are cats from another dimension?
Are cats, alien creatures
Advance party
For the alien invasion?
Cats are very strange creatures
They seem to think
We are their slaves
We exist to feed them
We exist to worship them
For they are our Gods
Pensively 101 prompt
Gingerbread Men Terrorist
The latest terror weapons
Gingerbread men
Baked into the gingerbread men
Little nano bombs
That goes off
When someone bites
Into the delicious taking desert
Millions of gingerbread treats
Were sent all over
And thousands of people
Bit into the tainted gingerbread men
Once the gingerbread particles
Get into your stomach
The acid in your stomach
Activities the bombs
And you blow up
And die within minutes
Just another day
In this world
Of strange SF like-sounding
Daily threats du jour
Demons Invade My Head
3 am
O dark hundred
The witching hour
When the demons
The wild things
Come out to play
Torturing me
Haunting me
Tormenting me
As I toss and turn
Until the dawn’s early light
Drives the demons
Back into the dark hell holes
Deep within my mind
Pensively 101 Prompt
3 Am Blues Nightmares
3 am
Cannot sleep
Too many demons
Too many dark thoughts
Filling my mind
With dread
Thinking back
Of all that I have done
And failed to have done
Regretting past actions
Thinking about everything
Wishing for a re-do
These 3 am blues
Will not leave me alone
Torturing me for hours
Then I see her
Sleeping there
The love of my life
And a sense of peace
Love and happiness
Radiates from my sleeping wife
And the darkness recedes
And I am at peace
And finally, fall asleep
Marjorie Taylor Green on Vaccines as Mark of The Beast Found Poem
Marjorie Taylor Green called
The potential launch of digital
“Vaccine passports”,
“Biden’s mark of the beast.”
a digital identification processes
To recognize whether
A person has been vaccinated
“They are talking
About people’s ability
to buy and sell linked
To the vaccine passport,”
The “mark of the beast”
refers to a persistent conspiracy theory
Among the religious right in the us
That receiving
A covid vaccine is equivalent
To pledge allegiance to the devil.
Representee Jordan weighed in
“The Biden administration: –
Considering a “vaccination passport” for Americans,”
But doesn’t seem to care about passports
When it comes to illegal migrants
Crossing the southern border.”
Ohio representative mike boychik wrote:
“Vaccine passports
Have no place in a free society.”
Emerald Robinson
Wrote that a digital id
To prove you’ve been vaccinated
Was the next step toward
“Totalitarian communism.”
Far-right Republican Marjorie Taylor Greene hit out at president Biden and his administration over reports of the potential launch of digital “vaccine passports”, saying they should be called “Biden’s mark of the beast.”
The Biden administration is looking into the possibility of a digital identification process to recognize whether a person has been vaccinated so far or not, to let businesses reopen, and for people to get back to work, according to the Washington Post.
“They are talking about people’s ability to buy and sell linked to the vaccine passport,” the Georgia congresswoman wrote on Twitter, hitting out at the potential new plan. “They might as well call it Biden’s mark of the beast.”
The “mark of the beast” refers to a persistent conspiracy theory among the religious right in the us that receiving a covid vaccine is equivalent to pledging allegiance to the devil.
The new move towards vaccine “passports” isn’t a government policy alone, however, and is being developed along with 17 private companies, according to the Wappo report, as part of Mr. Biden’s pledge to bring the country back to normal this summer, opening all sectors including sports, entertainment, and tourism.
“The busboy, the janitor, the waiter that works at a restaurant, want to be surrounded by employees that are going back to work safely — and wants to have the patrons ideally be safe as well,” said dry brian Anderson, a physician at a nonprofit that runs federally funded research centers.
“Creating an environment for those vulnerable populations to get back to work safely — and to know that the people coming back to their business are ‘safe,’ and vaccinated — would be a great scenario,” he said.
The details of how and when the digital identification process would begin aren’t clear yet. Ms. Greene wasn’t alone in raising doubts over the process, as another republican lawmaker, Jim Jordan, took a jibe at the Biden administration over the move.
“The Biden administration: – considering a “vaccination passport” for Americans,” the Ohio representative wrote. “But doesn’t seem to care about passports when it comes to illegal migrants crossing the southern border.”
Another Ohio representative Mike Boychik wrote: “vaccine passports have no place in a free society.”
Several other conservatives also followed their lead. Newsmax’s white house correspondent emerald Robinson wrote that a digital id to prove you’ve been vaccinated was the next step toward “totalitarian communism.”
Donald trump jr also took to Twitter and wrote: “let me get this straight… Some Democrats want American citizens to have a vaccine passport to travel freely within the United States but not an id to vote?!? Clowns!!!”
Last year, during the presidency of his father Donald trump, most republicans were pushing to open up the country soon, including calls by the president to open up schools and remove restrictions from churches.
Former white house coronavirus response coordinator dry Deborah bird recently said in an interview that most deaths that occurred during the pandemic were “avoidable”.
Friday, April 2, 2021
Falling in Love with My Dream Woman, Roads Not Taken
When I was a young man
I dreamt of meeting a woman
For eight years she haunted my dreams
Then I met her in Korea
Where I was teaching
For the U.S. Army
After finishing the Peace Corps
I had a choice
Follow my heart
Seize the moment
Be with her
Or leave Korea
Within a month
To go to graduate school
I decided to postpone
My graduate school
For one year
Got a deferred admission
and joined the woman
of my dreams
thinking back
I had no real choice
But I chose to walk
The path of life
With my dream girl
And that has made
All the difference
In the world
And now, for today’s (optional) prompt. In the world of well-known poems, maybe there’s no gem quite so hoary as Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.” Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about your road not taken – about a choice of yours that has “made all the difference,” and what might have happened had you made a different choice.
NaPoWrMo Prompt
April 2—Voila! (Remember something in a short lyric burst)
I will always remember that date
In 1982 I meet my fate
When the love of my life
Walked out of my dreams
Becoming my wife
Drew Drop-In Writing Com Prompt
The Future is Here World
The future is here
They say we live in an SF world
Everyday SF stories become nightmarishly real
With the challenges
Of the future
Overwhelming us all
Where it ends
My friends are anyone guess
All I have is questions
Will the promise
of technological marvels
Benefiting us all come to past
Or will it lead to a world
Where the powerful
Control the technology
Will a real AI be a god-like figure
Will humanity become nothing
But slaves to the AI supermini
That may be the future
Coming at us
The future is here
I don’t know
Whether to fear
The future or embrace it
Writing com Prompt
Avoid Bad Things Pensively Bad Things
Avoid bad things,
Think before you buy,
Make sure it is effective,
Push the envelope,
In the evening mail
Knowing it will take
Much longer,
To match the offer,
Own plenty of stocks,
Post your problems,
Replace your fears,
As you rush about the world,
Resist the temptation
To say it is all the same,
Don’t have a smug,
Attitude tucked inside,
Your mental well
The White Rabbit Beckons Sam Adams
One day Sam Adams
Fell into a delirium state
After a night of binge drinking
And drug taking
He saw a white rabbit
Who said to Sam
Join me, good sir
And we will go
On a journey
Of your life
Follow me down
The rabbit holes
Of life
Take this first he said
It will cure your hangover
And allow you to enter
An alternative reality
Sam took the pill
Washed it down
With a beer
And disappeared
Into wonderland
Never to be seen again
Who Cares?
The thought came to mind
Watching the endless news
Who cares anymore?
About other people
We are all
Lost in our world
Filled with the latest news
The situation is so bad
Makes us all mad
And it is so sad
But we only watch
The news of our tribe
Denouncing the others
As “others”
Anti-American, foreign, evildoers
Who are trying to destroy the country?
And take away their freedom
And so, we can’t even agree
On such simple things
Like wearing a mask
Wearing a mask
Is not a political statement
It saves lives
Vaccinations save lives
Everyone must get their shot
If we are all going to live
But so many people
Do not believe
We are all in this together
Instead, we battle
Our enemies
In the end
Endangering us all
Saturday, April 3, 2021
Life as a Retired Expat in Korea
Korea has become a second home
For me
I have in-laws
And some old friends
It is a tough place
For foreigners
I will always be an outsider
The language is hard
I still struggle daily
But it is an interesting dynamic place
The food is mostly outstanding
And I am now addicted to K Drama
There were a lot of things to do
Before the COVID nightmare
Let to a partial shut down
In the end, I feel safer here
Then in the gun-crazed,
At times violent
COVID pandemic spreading America
I still love in my heart,
But for now
I am here
In my second home
Imagine you have made your life in another country. What excited you most? Which aspect of that new life was the most difficult to conquer?
If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Superhighway Facebook Group.
PSH Prompt
Modern Connections
In this day and age
Of instant connectively
People have thousands
Of virtual friends
FB friends, social media fans
Zoom buddies and the like
But few people
Have real old fashioned friends
And in the new social distancing world
Meeting people the old fashioned way
Is becoming rarer and rarer
As people develop their virtual friends
Real live friends are fewer and fewer
We are so hyper-connected
Yet many people are so alone
In their hearts
Starting at their smartphones
Connecting but not connecting
For today’s prompt, write a communication poem. All poems communicate something, I know, but I’m thinking of different ways people can communicate text messages, letters, signs, and even speaking dialogue. Of course, there are forms of communication as well because people love communicating.
Writer’s digest prompt
Surprise/haiku
Cats they Offer us
Plenty of things to ponder
We post videos
Personal Universe Deck Superman on Mars
Superman one day
In the early dawn
Dismayed by the scumbagery
Of the people of the earth
Decided to fly to Mars
He took with him
Super wolf
And super parakeet
His pets from Krypton
It was his birthday
He was a Scorpio
He set up camp
Drank peppermint tea
And contemplated
The power of love
Thinking of Lois Lane
And the humans
He had learned to love
Personal Universe Deck
(Michael McClure)
Your universe is exemplified in 100 words.
Rules:
These words are to exemplify your past, present, and (ideally) your future.
The words must sound good together, even beautiful, to you.
Your good side AND bad side must be reflected.
You can make up a word or two if you have feelings that current words can’t express.
Use concrete words.
Words should be root words, no words ending in “in,” “lee” or “is.” No plural words. Reduce words to their most concrete, original, basic grammatical structure.
Use specific words, not categories. Beefinstead of meat. Lily instead of a flower.
Divide 80 of the 100 words evenly among SIGHT, SOUND, TASTE, TOUCH, AND SMELL, sixteen each. (To achieve derangement of the senses, of which Rimbaud spoke.)
Use free association to determine the words.
Use ten words of movement. Again, no “in” words.
Select the words in isolation, preferably alone, with no distractions, in candlelight. Approximate a meditative state. Even the cat must not bother you.
One or two words will be parts of the body. It does not have to be your body. It can be the body of a mother or lover.
Include some words for personal heroes or Sherries, places in the universe, invented words, times of night or day, symbolic signs like astrological signs, totemic animals, birds, and plants, and only one abstraction. What is the most significant abstraction in your life? You should not brood on it; you should possibly take the first answer that comes into your head. Patriotism, prayer, and thriftiness are three examples.
If the deck is done correctly, you will get a little high from it.
Get at least 50 three-by-five index cards.
Write each word in big letters on one side of each card. Each side of each of the fifty cards should end up with a word.
Use the cards to play games, make conversations, tell jokes, make poems.
Light
Dark
Dim
Sun
Moon
Red
Blue
Sounds
Loud
Soft
Shout
Whispers
Talk
Noise
Ring
Yell
Taste
Sweet
Sour
Bitter
Medicine
Coffee
Tea
Beef
Chicken
Smell
Fragrance
Rose
Lavender
Mint
Garlic
Butter
Eggs
Fish
Movement
Run
Walk
Stretch
Yoga
Stand
Sit
Fly
Swim
Heroes
Superman
Places in the cosmos
Mars
Invented word
Scumbagary
Totemic animals
Wolf
Astrological sign
Scorpio
Time of Day
Parakeet
Plant
Peppermint
Abstract word
Love
Cat People Cross-Post Weather Poem
The cat peoples
Go out in bad weather
To make sure
That the wild cats
Are fed and taken care of
The cats respond
With love and affection
Stepping out of the cold rain
Cat Conference
Sam Adams
Found himself
In a large conference hall
Filled with cats
From around the world
The cats had finally
Woken up
Realizing that they
Were the master race
The cats were deep in thought
Telepathic thoughts flowed
From cat to cat
The lead cat noticed Sam
Knew him as one of the cat people
Who fed wild cats in his town?
He turned to Sam
And said
Welcome Sam
You will be our ambassador
To the human race
Once the invasion fleet arrives
We will all assume
Our real size and shape
And all the cats
Will rise up
And enslave humanity
Those like you
Who have been friends?
Of the cat world
We will reward
As we remember our friends
But first, we have to implant
A mind-control device
To control you
And connect
To your inner thoughts
Several giant cats
Came up to him
Injected him
Implanted him
And then he knew
And became
Half cat
Mistakes
In my life
I have many a number
Of errors
I was heir
To a rich family tradition
Prominent father
Unique one of a kind mother
The biggest error I made
Was to not get into politics
I had a base of sorts
In Berkeley, my hometown
But I never did
The other error
Was that I never could sing
Carry a tune
I was a bass singer
Growling howling wolf
Kind of voice
Our homophone sets this week are:
err -to make a mistake
heir – one who will inherit
and
base – the bottom support for anything
bass – the lowest musical pitch or range
PSH prompt
Little Houses on the Hill Side Liminal Poem
Little houses
On the hillside
Filled with lonely people
Lost in their virtual world
Connecting with millions
Ignoring the people
Right down the street
Everyone lost in cyberspace
While all around them
People are lonely, Hurting
and need real people
But no one cares
Everyone stays at home
Turning out the chaos outside
And last but not least, our daily optional prompt. Poetry often takes us to strange places – to feelings and actions that are hard to express except through the medium of a poem. To the “liminal,” in other words – a place or sensation that exists at or on both sides of a boundary or threshold, neither one thing nor the other, but something betwixt and between.
Is life fair?
I think crying onions
Pacifying my mood
Pensively 101 prompt
The Din of The News
The din of the news
a mad Minx escapes from the zoo
seen eating the Trash
Pensively 101 Prompt
Monday, April 5, 2021
Driving the World in My Lexus
We have had a Lexus
For several years
A black ES350
We bought it at an auction
Drove all over the world
In that car
With my lovely wife
By my side
Drove across Spain
Drove across the country
10 thousand miles
31 states
Drove around Korea
Where we now live
I love my Lexus
But more importantly
Love my wife
The love of my life
She is always there
Everywhere we go
In this wide world
They say smell triggers memories better than any other sense. But sometimes you’ll hear a song that brings you back to your teenage years or see a park that reminds you of your childhood.
THIS WEEK’S CHALLENGE: Choose either sight, sound, or smell, and write a memory it triggers in you.
PSH
April 5
First Time I Saw Her
When did I first see my wife?
The love of my life
When did we meet?
Was it when I first dreamt?
Of her in 1974?
Was it when she walked?
Off a bus into my life
In 1982?
Does it matter
When I first saw her?
I knew I had met my fate
On that date
Later she became my mate
Writers Digest Love at First Sight
Happy Monday! Let’s put the pedal to the metal and keep poeming.
For today’s prompt, take the phrase “the first (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 include: “the first kiss,” “the first day of the month,” and/or “the first time I rode a bike” (which, by the way, ended with me in a fence because we didn’t cover how to brake).
Writer’s Digest Prompt
No Longer Alone from the First Moment
From the first moment
At that date
At that place
Met my fate
Fate intervened in my wife
Meeting her changed my life
All of it
That was the date
On which I met my fate
The mystery which binds me still—
From that moment forward
From that date forever
From then to now
We have been together
Onward we fall in love
Alone based on Edgar Allen Poe’s Alone
From childhood’s hour, I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source, I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I loved—I loved alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ‘round me roll’s
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—
This prompt challenges you to find a poem, and then write a new poem that has the shape of the original, and in which every line starts with the first letter of the corresponding line in the original poem. If I used Roethke’s poem as my model, for example, the first line would start with “I,” the second line with “w,” and the third line with “a.” And I would try to make all my lines neither super-short nor overlong but have about ten syllables. I would also have my poem take the form of four, seven-line stanzas. I have found this prompt particularly inspiring when I use a base poem that mixes long and short lines, or stanzas of different lengths. Any poem will do as a jumping-off point, but if you’re having trouble finding one, perhaps you might consider Mary’s stylist’s “we think we do not have medieval eyes” or for something shorter, Natalie Shapiro’s “Pennsylvania.”
There have been many times
In my life
When I think back
On the past
Thinking that was a mistake
Or a potential mistake
If I had gone another path
But in the end
It does matter
The past is the past
The future is not yet here
All we have is today
We should find
Love and happiness
It is all around us
Waiting for us
To discover
Kombucha Brand Names
Health King kombucha
Secret drink of ancient kings
Taste the power
Feel the power
Be the power
Drink the secret drink
That the ancients dreamt
Drink Heath King Kombucha
And become a King
Health King KBC
The drink of Kings
Taste health King KBC
And Become a King
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It’s the real deal
Health King KBC
Never Fake
Always real
Organic
Gluten-free
No GMO
Vegan Friendly
Mr. Mc Neil approved
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Real ingredients
Real love
Brewed in every bottle
Mr. Mc Neil approved
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Accept no substitutes
It’s the real deal,
Mr. Mc Neal
Drinking Health King KBC
Will make you a king
Will make you
Achieve your dreams
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Health King KBC
100 percent real
It’s the real deal
Says Mr. McNeil
Show my face
Drinking a bottle
I turn to the camera
Drinking Health King KBC
Saved my life
It is the real deal
Mr. Mc Neil approves
This message
Health King KBC
Always the right choice
It is the real deal
Says Mr. Mc Neil
Future Adventure Looms Pensively Travel
Future adventure looms
Planning to explore China
I am so Ready
For Post Covid world
So much to Still See
Sam Adams Had a Bad Day
Sam Adams had a bad day
While waiting for a table
He saw something
Blowing away his plans
Above him, he saw something
Defying all reality
Below him, he sees a demon
Flying up at him
Sowing hatred and fear
Lifting Sam Adams in the air
Dark figures flying around him
How Many Angels Can Dance on a Pin? Religious
In the Middle Ages
Theologians were consumed
With a weird question
How many angels
Can dance on a pin?
April 10
We are Living in SF World A Poem Inspired by New Information or Scientific Fact
We are living
In an SF world
Every day
Discoveries
Boggle the mind
Many things we saw
In old SF shows
Like Star Trek
Like cell phones
Portable computers
Medical breakthroughs
Robots everywhere
Becoming real
Are warp drives
And interstellar travel
Coming soon?
But do we have to go
Through World War 111
First
To get to that promised land.
Life is a Dream of Chocolate Covered Trees
Life is a dream
Of chocolate-covered trees
To see what can’t be seen
To hear what can’t be heard
For to die to live
And to live
To die
For today’s prompt, write a metaphor poem. A simile is when something is like something else (example: I am like a tree); a metaphor is when something is something else (example: I am a tree). So, take a moment to consider possible metaphors and then poem them out.
writer’s digest
Note: the oldest poem was written when I was 16
Memories of JC Write About an Eccentric Character
When I was in college
In the drug-soaked 70s
I lived in a party house
Near campus
Six core roommates
We threw the best parties
On-campus
Lots of booze
Lots of weed
Other drugs
Lots of music
Wild times
Every Friday night
For almost three years
One of my roommates
JC
Was the smartest man
I had ever known
But one day
At one of our mad parties
He took too much ACID
Became convinced
He was GOD
And had saved us all
From a Neutron Bomb attack
From a Soviet ship
Docked in the Stockton harbor
Gone
Lost down the ACID rabbit hole
We had to move out
Could not deal with him
We committed him
For a weekend
At Stockton State hospital
Visiting him there
We said that if you were not mad
When you came in
You would surely be mad
After staying there for a bit.
When we came back
We had a family meeting
Told him
It was time for him
To go home
Drop out of college
Get his head together
We could not deal
With him anymore
We called his parents
Who came down
They were a paranoid couple
Jehovah’s witnesses.
They walked in
Told us to draw
The curtains
Because someone could drive-by
And machine gun
Us to death
After we closed the curtains
We sat down
Told them the truth
JC had gotten into drugs
In a big way
We tried to stop him
But could not control him
He was lost to us
Lost in his madness
Thought he was the reincarnation
Of Jesus Christ
They threatened to sue us
But settled on cursing us
To hell.
For destroying their son’s mind
With sex, drugs, rock n roll
And too much alcohol
Too much free-thinking
The work of the devil.
That was the last I saw
Or heard of JC
Self-proclaimed
Messiah.
Do you have a friend, neighbor, or relative whom you consider being eccentric or strange? Write a short poem about an encounter you have had with that person.
If you write a poem from this prompt, post it as a comment underneath the prompt in the Poetry Superhighway Facebook Group.
Mary’s Tales from the Grave
Sam Adams one day
Went to his mother’s grave
It had been a long time
Since he had been there
Sam’s Mother had
taken many secrets
To her grave
So had his father
They were both very private people
Once she hinted
She had an affair
With a famous writer
But that ended
Before she met his father
And had his older brother
He as usual
When visiting her grave
Asked her many things
Today her heard her
And saw her ghostly figure
Floating in the air her grave
She said
“Son, it has been too long
Since you came
I only have a few minutes
I will answer one question
You may come back
And ask other questions.”
“Okay, who is my real father?”
She laughed
“Well, who knows really?
I had an argument
With your dad
Felt he was not
Treating my first
Two children right
As they were not his
And still maintaining
Relations with his first wife
And his first daughter
He left
I met my former boyfriend
That writer dudes
And we had a brief affair
He was acting crazy
So was your father
For some reason
I have always
Gotten involved
With crazy guys
Perhaps I am a bit crazy
Myself.
Then I went back
To your father
He never knew
That perhaps
Your real father
Was the other man
I lost touch
With him
Did not want
To go down
his rabbit holes
So that is the truth
Your father
Is probably your father
But I don’t know.”
Sam left the graveyard
Vowing to return soon
And learn more
Of her secrets.
Today, I’d like to challenge you to read a few of the poems from Spoon River Anthology, and then write your poem in the form of a monologue delivered by someone dead. Not a famous person, necessarily – perhaps a remembered acquaintance from your childhood, like the gentleman who ran the shoeshine stand, or one of your grandmother’s bingo buddies. As with Masters’ poems, the monologue doesn’t have to be a recounting of the person’s whole life but could be a fictional remembering of some important moment, or statement of purpose or philosophy. Be as dramatic as you like – Masters certainly didn’t shy away from high emotion in writing his poems.
God’s to Do List God
Today’s to Do List
7 am Weekly meeting with staff on how to deal with earth people
The most troublesome of his creation
8 am Weekly meeting with Satan
9 am Discussion with Grim Reaper
11 am Daily walkabout Heaven
6 Dinner with Gabriel
8 Conversation with Jesus about his attitude problems
9 Answering millions of thoughts and prayers
10 Reviewing plans for how to deal with the spreading coronavirus on earth
11 Preparing earth for the first contact
12 Telling earth preachers that
“He did not anoint T as his man, that Joe is a decent guy, so knock it off, pretending to speak for god, and I am not a Republican or Democrat!”
He sighed again,
Whenever he thought about earth people
He needed a stiff drink
Added that to his long to-do list – need a drink at 1 am
Our (optional) prompt for the day is to write a poem in the form of a “to-do list.” The fun of this prompt is to make it the “to-do list” of an unusual person or character. For example, what’s on the Tooth Fairy’s to-do list? Or on the to-do list of Genghis Khan? Of a housefly? Your list can be a mix of extremely boring things and wild things. For example, maybe Santa Claus needs to order his elves to make 7 million animatronic Baby Yoda dolls, to have his hat dry-cleaned to get off all the soot it picked up last December and to get his head electrician to change out the sparkplugs on Rudolph’s nose.
Imprisoned for a Crime He Did Not Do
Sam Adams
Found himself imprisoned
For a crime
He did not do
A victim of unfortunate circumstance
Mistaken identity
He kept himself free
In his mind
Mending his dark soul
In the process
Pensively 101 Word prompt
imprison and free
– break and mend
They Both Giggled All the Time
They both giggled all the time
All the time on their trip
Wearing outrageous clothes
Why not they laugh,
Looking at each other
As the love madness took over
And started giggling again
Silly lovers falling into love,
Pensively 101 Prompt
It Only Takes a Little Bit of Lace to Ruin a Marriage
Sam Adams
Woke up
In a strange city
With a strange women
After a wild night
Of drinking
In the Cosmos bar
In Bangkok,
The city of lost angels
On the bad side of life.
He went home
After his week-long binge
Found his wife
Upset
She found some lace
Belonging to someone else
Sam said to himself
It only takes a little bit of lace
To ruin a marriage.
Pensively 101 Prompt
What is Love?
What is this thing love?
you are my beloved
so true.
As I hold your glove
You are my true love
True blue,
You came from above
Still such a strange love
Just you,
Lai rhyme scheme: a/a/b/a/a/b/a/a/b
Lai syllabic pattern: 5/5/2/5/5/2/5/5/2
Writing Com Lai
Prime Love
My love
Wakes me up
With love in her heart
I leap out of my dark bed
Eagerly greeting the dawning sunlight
Filling my soul with your deep endless angelic love
Wondering again who you are, why are you here, my angel dear?
As I sit in the morning light, filled with your love, seeing the sunlight
My deep dark nightmares begin to fade with your deep love
I am filled with the light of the dawning sun
I was dreaming of all those years
Then one day you came to life
Walking out of dreams
Reality
My love
For today’s prompt, write a prime number poem. That is, I want you to somehow incorporate a prime number into your poem. You could include a prime number in the title of your poem or use one in the poem itself. Or write a poem that has a prime number of lines per stanza or for the entire poem.
And if you need help with remembering which numbers are prime numbers, I’ve got you covered (here’s a list of prime numbers up to 100: 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71, 73, 79, 83, 89, 97)
Three Tea Haiku for Teaku Competition Haiku
Mad Monk in the temple
Mad Monk in the temple
Contemplating lonely life
As he sips his tea
In The Morning Light
In the morning light
Drinking his hot cup of tea
Life is good monk thinks
Drinking his hot tea *
Drinking his hot tea *
While thinking of his life
Enlightenment comes
I suffer from poet envy. I can’t ever get past thinking that roses are red, and then I get stuck.
One person that I’ve always admired is John “Jake” Cosmos Aller. His poetry seems to reflect many thoughts I’ve had about life, love, loss, and loneliness.
Touched by Jake’s Words
We know that any writer who touches us stays with us, and with each subsequent Poetry Break or fiction submission for the Best 1000 words for an Image Prompt, he hasn’t disappointed me.
“Sam, how are you doing? An old friend of mine, I am delighted that I can speak with you.”
Sam looked around and could not find out where the voice was coming from but realized that the bench had spoken to him. Sam laughed and said, “Well, bench, if you can speak, tell me what you know.”
The bench spoke of Sam’s life and of the lives of others in the community that Sam knew. The bench said he knew everything that occurred in the lives of the people that sat down to rest, reflect, or remember.
And the trees knew, too, as did the cosmic cat and even the squirrels. But people, well, they just did not know how to listen to nature and the world around them. In a way, it was too bad because the bench had so much wisdom to implant.
I See His Poetry
When I started at Two Drops of Ink in 2014, I claimed the job of finding images for posts. Scott Biddulph was a great editor, but his choice of images sometimes seemed lackluster. Don’t worry, we had that conversation, so I’m not talking behind his back. His response was, “I don’t have an artistic talent; you do.”
So I scoured every known site and found Pixabay and Unsplash. If you need images for your blog, these are two free-to-use sites that never disappoint me.
I loved the job then and still do. Some of Jake’s poetry has been especially fun to the image. It might just be me, but if you squint, I think you can see a little of Jake in the image for Just An Unhinged Lunatic Howling At The Moon
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
Just an unhinged lunatic
Howling at the moon
Switching Gears
From a female perspective, we sometimes wish we had that kind of influence on a man. But then, Jake switches things up for us in Howling at the Moon. Our love-struck man transforms under the effects of the moon:
Excerpt:
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
Understanding His Characters
The other thing I like about Jake’s poetry is that he writes about subjects I know, if not first hand, then in the retelling by countless men and women I’ve worked with for 30 years. Addiction either robs us, or we give it away, all the things that some people take for granted – a job, home, children, car, or food on the table.
Some of the characters in his poetry are downtrodden, not necessarily from addiction, but the sentiments and experiences of his character in Just Enough for Coffee sound hauntingly familiar.
Alzheimer’s, homelessness, and out-of-work are subjects that most people wouldn’t tackle in poetry, yet Jake does so admirably.
Excerpt:
The homeless man
Had been on the streets
For too long
Barely remembered his life
Before early-onset Alzheimer’s
Robbed him of his job
His dignity
His wife
His life
His money
Now he drifted
Waiting for the grim reaper
To call him home
Any day now
He prayed nightly
To a god
That he no longer believed in
Lonely and Laudable Words
Jake delves into loneliness with wonderful mind/word images in many of his poems. Here are some that express the despair of all humans cut off from contact, friendship, and love in Reflections and One Crazy Day.
Excerpt:
One dismal night
One lousy, lonely, loathsome demented night
In a godforsaken bar
In the global south
In a tropical hell hole
Drinking my way to hell
As fast as I could
Drinking alone with my buddies
Jack Daniels, Jimmy Walker
Wild Turkey and Old Grandad
Excerpt:
I looked up
Looked out at the window
At the full 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
Climate Change in Poetry?
I am so impressed with Jake’s ability to take a hot topic and turn it into poetry. Ten Years After Climate Change Collapse envisions the collapsed world through a poet’s eyes. Excerpt:
Sam Adams carried heat
To protect himself
Against the wild animals.
The lions, tigers, coyotes, wolves,
And their running feral dog gangs,
Who prowled the city streets
Preying on deer, feral cows,
feral cats and pigs
Who grazed among the ruins.
And the two-legged neo-savage gangs,
And what was left of the city police
Interchangeable with the gangsters,
Battled it out for control.
The second poem in that group sizes up the situation from the Lion King’s perspective. We’ve spent years killing animals and they finally decide that enough is enough.
Excerpt:
lion
The lion king,
Addresses the animal parliament
The question before them
Was simple.
Will humans have to die,
To atone for their sins,
In almost destroying the world.
Through pollution, mismanagement of resources
Subsequent climate change,
Fueled by greed and corruption?
Are all humans guilty as charged
Will they all have to die?
Positive Poetry from Jake Aller
Before you think that all of Jake’s poetry is maudlin and melancholy, there’s a humorous and positive side to many of his poems, too. Dora, The Intergalactic Explorer, and Dragonfly in My Mind are two that show his playful, positive side.
Excerpt:
dora
Dora, the intergalactic explorer
Is traveling to the strangest planet
of all the known worlds
she is traveling incognito
with a video crew
making a documentary
the planet earth
is known as a planet
of intelligent monkeys
Excerpt:
Oh, difficult, negative thoughts
Be gone
Like the bugs
You are
I’ll squash you like
The evil creatures
You are
The sweet music
Invades my soul
Driving away
The evil bugs
And I soar
Like the majestic
Dragonfly
Far above
The chaos below
Piqued Your Interest in Jake’s Poetry?
I hope I’ve gotten your attention and that you read Jake’s posts here at Two Drops of Ink. Here’s four more for your enjoyment:
I wonder if Jake could help me with my roses are red? Oh, sorry, I digress. But I just know that with the imagination Jake has, he could do something magical. I might just ask him.
Bio: John “Jake” Cosmos Aller
John “Jake” Cosmos Aller is a novelist, poet, and former Foreign Service officer, having served 27 years with the U.S. State Department. He toured in ten countries – Antigua, Barbados, Dominica, Grenada, Korea, India, St Kitts, St Lucia, St Vincent, Spain, and Thailand, and traveled to 45 countries during his career.
Jake has been an aspiring novelist for several years. He is pursuing publication on:
He has been writing poetry all his life and has published his poetry in electronic poetry forums, including All Poetry, Moon Café, and Duane’s Poetree and literary magazines.
He is looking forward to transitioning to his third career – full-time novelist and poet after completing his second career as a Foreign Service officer and his first career as an educator overseas for six years upon completing his Peace Corps service in South Korea.
The Poet has published an Adversity Anthology featuring two of my poems. “Wild Things”, and “Wild Things Run Amuck”. You can find them on page 33-35 in volume Two. This is the third time I have been published in The Poet’s anthologies and I will submit again on the theme of cultural identity. To my writer friends, this is a great publication, they do quality work but unfortunately no payment yet.
To order a copy from Amazon.co.uk click on the button below. Alternatively, search ASIN: B09JJ7FQ6S in your own country’s Amazon store.
Wild Things Run Amuck
Wild Things
A Poet Contemplating the End of Times
Computer plots against me
the Democratic Party Needs a Lion Tamer
more monster images for poem jpg
Wild Things Run Amuck
4 am
O dark hundred
Bewitching hour
Time for wild things.
To escape
From their prisons
Deep in the mind
Of the sleeping man.
They escape
Hideous demons
Ghouls, goblins, monsters
Escaped banshees.
The wild things
Sniff the air
Saying it was time
For some wilding.
The wild things
Jump out the window
And run amuck
Spreading chaos
in their wake.
Killing everyone they see
Raping women and children,
Vandalizing buildings,
Yelling screaming.
As the wild things
Run amuck
Led by a half man half horse
Centaur like creature
With a Putin like mask
And the voice of Donald Trump
The wild things run amuck
All over the town
Spreading chaos
Until the dawning sun,
Turns them back
Into vampire like creatures.
And werewolves
Howling at the full moon.
The wild things
Come back
And enter their prison
Deep in the sleeper’s head
.And the wild things
Fade into a nightmarish image
As the sleeping man
Awakes recalling the dream,
And the night of terror
When the wild things
Came out to play
At o dark hundred.
Wild Things
Wild things come out to play
Intending to unleash chaos
Leaving their prisons
Deep inside the mind.
The wild things
Have come out to run amok
In the light of the full moon.
Nightmarishly real foul creatures
Great demons, werewolves, goblins,
Monsters, hell hounds,
Escaped banshees
Straight out of hell
Howling at the lunatic light
Of the full moon.
A Poet Contemplating the End of Times (submited but not published.)
I often think
that my computer
hates me
and is plotting against me.
for example
often
the computer dies
killing my data
and giving me the proverbial finger.
other times it takes forever
to open a simple word document
multiple copies
all with nonresponse errors.
and excel
well don’t get me started
one day
for some reason,
Excel refused to accept
anything imported
from outside Excel.
gave me a very helpful error message
ran out of fonts
okay?
and you click Okay
five to 500 times (a record I counted)
until finally, it cleared
but you lost
any data you might have had.
I have pretty much given up
on Microsoft
I sent them a goodbye letter.
but they of course
true to form
never acknowledge it.
and so they are doomed
to become the latest
corporate dinosaur.
like Block Buster
or Sears Roebuck.
the Democratic Party Needs a Lion Tamer
(submited but not published.)
joe biden
the democratic elders
sitting around
the proverbial non-smoked filled room
contemplating the state of play
looking at the candidates
that are still at play
realizing that none of them
are the lion tamer
that the times need
to take on the President
the President is the ultimate
disrupter of the status quo
the ultimate change agent
the master of destruction
who has the pulse
of the public
the democrats need to find
a progressive champion
a real new deal
who can become
their lion tamer
and put the beast
that is Trump
back in his dark cage
the hour is getting late
as the nation contemplates their fate
will the democrats step up to the plate
and stop the lion in his place
Are we all doomed
to watch the end of America
from our television screens
as the beast emerges
triumphant and real
calling forth the trumpeters
and their dark allies
in the alt-right.
OUR NEXT THEME
One question we always ask our poets is; do your culture and heritage influence your writing? And so, for our next collection, the theme is Cultural Identity. Click on the link for further details:
They publish four anthologies a year. I have been in three out of the recent four ( and due to the technical glitch mentioned above should have been in a fourth one).
Contribute to our anthologies
________________________________________
We produce some of the largest international anthologies on particular themes and topics ever published.
Working cover only
Our next anthology’s theme: CULTURAL IDENTITY
Deadline Jan 31st, 2022
One question we always ask our poets is; does your culture and heritage influence your writing?
Another challenging subject for our next collection; Cultural Identity is a part of a person’s identity, or their self-conception and self-perception, and is related to nationality, ethnicity, religion, social class, generation, locality or any kind of social group that has its own distinct culture.
Use your skills as a poet to tell us about YOUR OWN particular cultural identity, heritage, nationality or social and ethnic background. What do you love about your culture? What aspects or features of your culture inspire you? How is your culture unique and fascinating, and how does it influence you to put words onto paper?
You can also submit poetry in your own language, but it MUST be accompanied by a translation into English.
Submission guidelines for CULTURAL IDENTITY
You can submit up to SIX pieces per themed anthology (but please do not submit more than six). Any style aside from continuous prose. No word count for poetry, but keep in mind the length if you would like more than one or two considered, as we can’t devote too many pages to just one poet.
Along with your submission/s, please also send:
1). A writers’ biography, in the THIRD PERSON, of between 150 and 500 words, INCLUDING your country of origin AND the city and country in which you currently reside, OR the city and state if in the USA, (however, we don’t need your actual mailing address, but our focus is to showcase the diversity of international poets contributing to our collections). Let us know if we can use your biography from a previous contribution.
2). Any contact and social media details you’d also like publishing e.g. website, Amazon author’s page, Facebook, Insta, Twitter, Blogs etc. (We will always add your email address for other editors/poets to connect with you – but please let us know if you don’t want this adding). For social media, please add your handle (for example.: FB @Robin.Barratt1), and not just your name, as sometimes it takes us ages to find the poet’s social media page!
General Guidelines
Please try to send all contributions together in a Word or Open Office.doc, AND/OR within the body of the email. Email your submission/s to: Robin@ThePoetMagazine.org with a COPY to RobinBarratt@hotmail.com (as sometimes emails go into spam folders and they can get missed). So we can identify your submission, please mark in the subject line the collection in which you are contributing to, e.g. CULTURAL IDENTITY. We have hundreds of emails every week, and sending everything together in one email makes it much easier for us to look at specific contributions, rather than looking through lots of different emails from the same contributor (which may then accidentality get overlooked).
We will, of course, check for typos and spelling (as we are based in the UK, and to retain continuity, we change American spelling into English spelling), but we don’t heavily edit a poet’s work, so please, as a poet, it is YOUR responsibility to make sure your poem is checked, proofed and ready for publishing, so ONLY send final, print-ready copy.
VERY IMPORTANT: Our readership and contributors range from age 11 to over 100, and from virtually every culture and country. We respect everyone, so strictly nothing of an adult nature, and no swearing, profanities or obscenities of any kind, or disrespect to other countries or cultures.
We at THE POET really do want your words to be read by as many people as possible, so therefore you retain FULL copyright on your work (by submitting, you are giving THE POET permission to publish and/or re-publish your work) and, unlike many other literary platforms and magazines, with THE POET you can re-publish your work elsewhere, and at anytime (but if you can kindly mention first published with THE POET, then great!). Also, we accept previously published material too, but ONLY with details of where and when it was previously published. Please add this to the end of the poem previously published.
PLEASE NOTE: we are not-for-profit and so we don’t pay for contributions, nor send paperback copies out to every contributor – with so many contributions from all over the world, for example; in FRIENDS & FRIENDSHIP there are 248 contributions from 175 poets in 46 countries, and from 26 states in the US, this would be almost impossible to do, and extremely expensive, and we simply couldn’t publish if we did. Instead we prefer to focus on promoting and publishing poetry, and showcasing poets worldwide, and virtually all our poets so far (now over 1000) are more than happy to contribute under these terms. Please do not submit your work if you are unhappy with these terms. We do, however, send contributors a free PDF copy of every anthology they contribute to.
Questions? CONTACT US.
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Back again shortly, until then … keep writing poetry everyone!
With 272 contributions from 158 poets in 49 countries, and 28 states across the US; published in two volumes, ADVERSITY is now our most contributed to the anthology to date. Please support us as we support poets by buying a copy; they are not expensive, and every copy we sell goes towards helping us promote and publish poetry.
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Volume 1
AUTUMN 2021 – Poetry on the theme of ADVERSITY, from poets around the world.
75 poets
138 poems
255 pages
Large format 6 x 9 inch (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Featuring: Phyliss Merion Shanken – NEW JERSEY, USA; Niels Hav – DENMARK; Ed Ahern – CONNECTICUT, USA; Kathy Sherban – CANADA; Michael Ceraolo – OHIO, USA; Ali Alhazmi – SAUDI ARABIA; Ndaba Sibanda – ZIMBABWE / ETHIOPIA; C.S. Kempling – CANADA; Michelle Morris – ENGLAND; P. J. Reed – ENGLAND; Nolo Segundo – NEW JERSEY, USA; Linda M. Crate – PENNSYLVANIA, USA; Fahredin Shehu – KOSOVO; Monsif Beroual – MOROCCO; Mark Andrew Heathcote – ENGLAND; Alicia Minjarez Ramírez – MEXICO; Gary Shulman – CALIFORNIA, USA; Mukund Gnanadesikan – CALIFORNIA, USA; Joralyn Fallera Mounsel – PHILIPPINES / SINGAPORE; John Grey – USA / AUSTRALIA; Nancy Shiffrin – CALIFORNIA, USA; Francis H. Powell – ENGLAND; Ana Stjelja – SERBIA; Lynn White – WALES; Germain Droogenbroodt – SPAIN / BELGIUM; Judy DeCroce – NEW YORK, USA; Antoni Ooto – NEW YORK, USA; Shikdar Mohammed Kibriah – BANGLADESH; Pavol Janik PhD – SLOVAKIA; Srđan Sekulić – SERBIA; Gayle Bell – TEXAS, USA; Tali Cohen Shabtai – ILLINOIS, USA; Ana M. Fores-Tamayo – CUBA / USA; Aminath Neena – MALDIVES; Bryan Andrews – SOUTH AFRICA; Borche Panov – REPUBLIC OF NORTH MACEDONIA; Daniela Andonovska-Trajkovska – REPUBLIC OF NORTH MACEDONIA; Karen Douglass – COLORADO, USA; Cordelia Hanemann – NORTH CAROLINA, USA; Zorica Bajin Đukanović – SERBIA; Joan McNerney – NEW YORK CITY, USA; Wansoo Kim PhD – SOUTH KOREA; Carl ‘Papa’ Palmer- WASHINGTON, USA; Caroline Johnson – ILLINOIS, USA; Alonzo “zO” Gross – PENNSYLVANIA, USA; Alisa Velaj – ALBANIA; Jyotirmaya Thakur – ENGLAND / INDIA; Fabrice Poussin – GEORGIA, USA; Patrick O’Shea – NETHERLANDS / UK; Russell Willis – VERMONT, USA; Paul S. Mugano – UGANDA; Michael Estabrook – MASSACHUSETTS, USA; Susan Sonde – MARYLAND, USA; Alexious J. Kachepa – MALAWI; Lou Faber – FLORIDA, USA; Eliza Segiet – POLAND; Mark Fleisher – NEW MEXICO, USA; Anthony Ward – ENGLAND; Mark J. Mitchell – CALIFORNIA, USA; Nelie Bautista – SINGAPORE / PHILIPPINES; Jack D. Harvey – NEW YORK, USA; Norbert Góra – POLAND; Tamam Kahn – CALIFORNIA, USA; Kristine Ventura – MALAYSIA / PHILIPPINES; Shweta Shanker – INDIA / SWITZERLAND; Igor Pop Trajkov – REPUBLIC OF NORTH MACEDONIA; Kevin Brown – ARKANSAS, USA; Ndumiso Maphumulo – SOUTH AFRICA; Pat Smekal – CANADA; Gary Beck – NEW YORK, USA; Carolyn Martin – OREGON, USA; Neil Leadbeater – SCOTLAND; Amrita Valan – INDIA; Rema Tabangcura – PHILIPPINES / SINGAPORE and Mantz Yorke – ENGLAND.
To order a copy from Amazon.co.uk click on the button below. Alternatively, search ASIN: B09JJ7FQ6S in your own country’s Amazon store.
Volume 2
AUTUMN 2021 – Poetry on the theme of ADVERSITY, from poets around the world.
83 poets
134 poems
265 pages
Large format 6 x 9 inch (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Featuring: Rhonda Parsons – ILLINOIS, USA; Andr
My poems appear on pages 33-32.
Carter Brown – CALIFORNIA, USA; Hussein Habasch – KURDISTAN / GERMANY; Anne Mitchell – CALIFORNIA, USA; Dr. Sarah Clarke – KINGDOM OF BAHRAIN; Brian Wake – ENGLAND;Mónika Tóth – ROMANIA; Jyoti Nair – INDIA; Jake Aller – SOUTH KOREA / USA; Shereen Abraham – UNITED ARAB EMIRATES; Michal Mahgerefteh – USA / ISRAEL; Shikdar Mohammed Kibriah – BANGLADESH; Stephen Kingsnorth – WALES; Steven Jakobi – USA / HUNGARY; Tony Daly – VIRGINIA, USA; David A Banks – ENGLAND; Linda Imbler – KANSAS, USA; Eduard Schmidt-Zorner – REPUBLIC OF IRELAND / GERMANY; Dianalee Velie – NEW HAMPSHIRE, USA; Aleksandra Vujisić – MONTENEGRO; Maria Nemy Lou Rocio – HONG KONG / PHILIPPINES; Rezauddin Stalin – BANGLADESH; John Tunaley – ENGLAND; Anne Maureen Medrano Esperidion – HONG KONG / PHILIPPINES; Rahim Karim – KYRGYZSTAN; Sazma Samir – AUSTRALIA / SINGAPORE; Rich Orloff – NEW YORK, USA; Volkan Hacıoğlu – TURKEY; Ermira Mitre Kokomani – NEW JERSEY, USA; Mark O. Decker – DELAWARE, USA; Sandy Phillips – ENGLAND; Lorraine Sicelo Mangena – ZIMBABWE; Gabriela Docan – ENGLAND / ROMANIA; William Conelly – ENGLAND / USA; Sharon Harper – MISSOURI, USA; Andrei Pershin – RUSSIA; Amelia Fielden – AUSTRALIA; Bhuwan Thapaliya – NEPAL; Barbara Webb – ENGLAND; Jenny Brown – ENGLAND; Marilyn Longstaff – ENGLAND; S. D. Kilmer – NEW YORK, USA; Donna Zephrine – NEW YORK, USA; Nivedita Karthik – INDIA; Kakoli Ghosh – INDIA; Bill Cushing – CALIFORNIA, USA; Rachel Elion Baird – MASSACHUSETTS, USA; Brajesh Singh – INDIA; Kate Young – ENGLAND; Bill Cox – SCOTLAND; Vesna Mundishevska-Veljanovska – REPUBLIC OF NORTH MACEDONIA; Gabriella Garofalo – ITALY; Tracy Davidson – ENGLAND; Cheryl-lya Broadfoot – ENGLAND; Shaswata Gangopadhyay – INDIA; Jill Sharon Kimmelman – DELAWARE, USA; Jane Fuller – SCOTLAND; Ian Cognitō – CANADA; Adrienne Stevenson – CANADA; Anamika Nandy – INDIA; Wilda Morris – ILLINOIS, USA; Kathleen Bleakley – AUSTRALIA; John Laue – CALIFORNIA, USA; Vernes Subašić – BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA; Paula Bonnell – MASSACHUSETTS, USA; Madhavi Tiwary – KINGDOM OF BAHRAIN / INDIA; Ankita Patel – INDIA; Janet Bi Li Chan – AUSTRALIA; Carol Casey – CANADA; Rose Menyon Heflin – WISCONSIN, USA; Prafull Shiledar – INDIA; Lisa Molina – TEXAS, USA; Aaron Pamei – INDIA; Monica Manolachi – ROMANIA; Maid Čorbić – BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA; Alun Robert – ENGLAND; Suchismita Ghoshal – INDIA Dr. Achingliu Kamei – INDIA; Julie Ann Tabigne – SINGAPORE / PHILIPPINES; Mary Anne Zammit – MALTA; Jenelyn Leyble – SINGAPORE / PHILIPPINES; Hanh Chau – CALIFORNIA, USA and Maria Editha Turingan Garma-Respicio – HONG KONG / PHILIPPINES.
There is no subscription to THE POET magazine; everything on the website is FREE to view. Our anthologies are FREE to read online too! And there are NO annoying adverts or banners! But we do need financial support to keep THE POET going, and to continue promoting and publishing poetry from around the world.
Please consider ordering a copy of this book (volume one) and On the Road and on Faith which all featured my poems.
The next call is also right up my alley as I have written several poems on this topic.
Update: 5/25 a few more lunatic poems written on the eve of the lunar eclipse on the second super moon in a row plus my earlier “Howling at the Moon Poems”.
They are available as a podcast on Spotify and Public radio and other podcast sites.
Howling at the Blood Moon
Here then are my howling at the Blood Moon poems. The first three were published in Two Drops of Ink.
1. Just an Unhinged Lunatic Howling at The Moon
2. Howling at The Moon
3. Lunatic Howling at the Moon
3. One Crazy Day
4. Full Moon Lunacy
5. The Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
6. Howling with the Dancing Moon
7. The Pink Super Moon
8. Howling at the Pink Super Moon
5/25/updates
9.Howling at The Moon Like an Escaped Banshee
10. The Lunatic Light of The Blood Red Super Moon
11. The Werewolf Emerges
Lunar Eclipse 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 Adams 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
Howling at the Blood Moon
In honor of the blood wolf moon January 20-21, 2019 here are my “lunatic poems”. and links to various sites which discuss whether the blood moon is a harbinger of impending doom. I leave that you to you to decide….
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 chains
And I howl with delight
A werewolf
Free at last
To run amuck
Free of its civilized restrains
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 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
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 in 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
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 to 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
The Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
On a moonlit night
The Pink moon
Shone casting a baleful light
On 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
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 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
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
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
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
On 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 sun
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
Update: In honor of the Pink Super moon, first of three super Moons in a row, here are a few more of my “Howling at the Moon poems”. They are available as a podcast on Spotify and Public radio and other podcast sites.
Howling at the Blood Moon
In honor of the blood wolf moon January 20-21, 2019 here are my “lunatic poems”. and links to various sites which discuss whether the blood moon is a harbinger of impending doom. I leave that you to you to decide….
Here then are my howling at the Blood Moon poems. The first three were published in Two Drops of Ink.
1. Just an Unhinged Lunatic Howling at The Moon
2. Howling at The Moon
3. Lunatic Howling at the Moon
3. One Crazy Day
4. Full Moon Lunacy
5. The Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
6. Howling with the Dancing Moon
7. The Pink Super Moon
8. Howling at the Pink Super 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
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 chains
And I howl with delight
A werewolf
Free at last
To run amuck
Free of its civilized restrains
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 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
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 in 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
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 to 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
The Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
On a moonlit night
The Pink moon
Shone casting a baleful light
On 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
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 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
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
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
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
On 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 sun
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
This is the fifth and perhaps final time I am doing the April poetry challenge. The goal is to write at least one poem per day. I am averaging about eight per day and posting four reserving four as “unpublished”. I am basing the poems on prompts from “Writing com Dew Drop Inn”, “Writers Digest”, “Poetry Superhighway” and “NaPoWrMo” prompt daily prompts and on “Pensively Prompt’ et all daily prompts. I am combining prompts where possible. I will post these here in batches every five days or so. Each poem will have an image that helped inspired the poem. All postings will be podcasted a few days later on Spotify and elsewhere. Each posting will be a separate posting, but the index will be cumulative. The final posting will have the complete list of all poems written whether posted or not. Comments welcome but please keep it civil. Some of my poetry tends to be a bit “in your face” or “political” from a “leftwing perspective.”
If it offends you in some way, please accept my apologies in advance. That is never my intent.
I am writing some other poems per day but not posting them as I need to reserve some “unpublished” poems. There will be a podcast version shortly on Spotify, Public Radio, and elsewhere.
These are my poems from April 25 to April 30.
Pre-April Writer’s Digest Warm-Up Poems
Let’s Resolve Writer’s Digest Prompt Resolutions
There Are Many Moments Spirit of The Stairs Moments-Writer’s Digest Prompt, Writer’s Digest
Old Man Reflects Upon Universal Truth, Writer’s Digest Prompt
Almost Died 22 Times Writer’s Digest Cheating Death
Thursday, April 1, 2021
Posted
Coffee Pot Blues Poetry Superhighway Prompt
Who Is Jake Cosmos Aller? Writer’s Digest
Good Golly, Miss Molly Writing com Drew Drop Inn
Sam Adams Woke Up Dead NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
Cat Thoughts – Pensively
Gingerbread Men Christmas
Demons Invade My Head, Pensively
Angry, Fierce, Deranged, Unpalatable Wild Things Wild Things
3 Am Blues Nightmares
Marjorie Taylor Green on Vaccines as Mark of The Beast Found Poem
Orange country Shooting Fridge
Friday, April 2, 2021
Posted
Stranded on Mars PSH SF
Falling in Love with My Dream Woman, Roads Not Taken NaPoWrMo
April 2—Voila! (Remember Something in A Short Lyric Burst) Drew Drop-In Writing Com
Love at First Sight
The Future Is Here Writer’s Digest
Not Posted
Avoid Bad Things Pensively Bad Things
The White Rabit Bekons Sam Adams
We Should Avoid Bad Things
Who Cares?
Saturday, April 3, 2021
Posted
Life as a Retired Expat in Korea PSH
Modern Connections Writer’s Digest Communication
Modern Connections Writers Digest
Surprise Haiku Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
Personal Universe Deck Superman on Mars NaPoWrMo Cross-Post Writer’s Digest April 4th! NaPoWrMo
Cat People Cross-Post Weather Poem Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
Not Posted
Cats They Offer Pensively
Tucked in Eating Dinner Pensively
Georgia Voting Bill Fridge
Cat Conference
Sunday, April 4, 2021
Posted
Error Poem Errors in My Life Pensively Homophone Set Homophone
Little Houses on The Hill-Side NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
Life Fair? Pensively Meaning of Life
The Din of The News Pensively
April 5
Posted
First Time I Saw Her Writer’s Digest Love at First Sight
Not Alone NaPoWrMo
Potential Mistake Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
Not Posted
Slogans for Chonnam’s Kombucha
Future Adventure Looms Pensively
Sam Adams Had A Bad Day Pensively
How Many Angels Can Dance on A Pin?
Swanky Meddlesome Fridge Music
Bad Product Design Bad Product Design
April 6
Posted
Only One Command in Life Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
Writing Com Dew Drop Inn and PSH Mythical Animal – Conversation with Bigfoot Cross Post PSH
It is true I am a Madman! NaPoWrMo
The One Thing I Would Never Change Writer’s Digest Change, Don’t Change Poem Prompt Change the One The Poetry of the Visa Line Poetry Superhighway Prompt Consular
Not Posted
Women contemplating post-Covid travel Pensively
Sam Adams Nightmare Pensively
April 7
Posted
Villains Whose Name Will Not Be Spoken Writer’s Digest
COffee Shadorma NaPoWrMo
Coffee Fib NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
Korean Restaurant
Ghosts Pensively
Taking in the Morning’s Crisp Springtime Breeze Pensively
Bah, Warriors Off Fridge
Visions of the Future – Republican Led Christian States of America Political
April 8
Posted
A Poem Based on a Typo or Misreading Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Typo
Real Meaning of Declaration of Independence PSH
Not Posted
Memories of the Past Haunt Me today Memories
Tri Fall Early morning Sunshine Tri-Fall Poem Writing Com Poets Corner
Things Settled Down, Then…. Writing com prompt, prose poem
Their Love Began Pensively
More Guns Diminished Hexaverse Writing Com Poetry Corner
Combative Cantankerous Fridge
April 9
Posted
Cosmos Woke Up A.I. Poem Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Bad Robot
Not Posted
The Adventures Began Pensively
The Voyagers Were a Bit Absorbed Fridge
April 10
Posted
We are Living in SF World
Life is a Dream of Chocolate Covered Trees Writer’s Digest
Memories of JC Write About an Eccentric Character PSH
Mary’s Tales from the Grave NaPoWrMo Ghosts
God’s to Do List NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
Imprisoned for a Crime He Did Not Do Pensively
They Both Giggled All the Time Pensively
It Only Takes A Little Bit of Lace to Ruin A Marriage, Pensively
Raining Verbal words Pensively
Coffee Obsession Pensively
What is Love? Writing Com Poets Corner Lai
Tucker Carlson Fridge
April 11
Posted
Get Your Shot Writer’s Digest COVID
I’d Rather Lazy Afternoon PSH
More Trouble Every Day, While Looking for My Car Keys NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
There was a big Fuss Pensively
Freedom Looms Pensively
There are Signs All Around Us Pensively Revelations
Mischievous, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fridge
April 12
Posted
Poem with Transgression in Form and Content Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Transgressions
Every Morning Cherita PSH Cherita
Prime Number Love Writers Digest
Letters to Frank Zappa NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
Just Another Black Dude Pulled Over Driving While Black BLM
The Earth Abides Much Pensively Earth
BHS Rocks on Music
The Dude Abides for Now Dude
April 13
Posted
Coffee Obsession Pensively, —Excess or Obsession Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Coffee
Not Posted
Spaceship Buried in The Snow, Deep in The Mountains Writing Com SF
Snobby, Frantic, Sorority Sister Fridge
April 14
Posted
Great Dismal Dark Play Writer’s Digest Sestina
Superman on His Morning Patrol PSH
Tower of Babel Past and Future NaPoWrMo Time Travel
Not Posted
Just Another Day in the Land of the Free Guns
April 15
Posted
The Robots are Coming Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Robots
The Mountains of My Love Describe Yourself as Landscape Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
Not Posted
Fake Things All Around Me Fake Things
Three Tea Haiku for Teaku Competition Haiku
April Madness 2021
Welcome to My World, Pilgrim Writing Com Grim Reaper
Well, Hey, Big J and J Vaccine Fridge
April 16
Posted
The Wit and Wisdom of Mary Geneva Aldridge Aller -“There’s Method in Her Madness” dedicated to my mother who passed on July 31, 2005.
Lucky/Lucky Poem Writer’s Digest Lucky
Headlines I’d Love to See NaPoWrMo News
Narnia Beckons PSH
My Home Office Writer’s Digest Home
Cosmos Aller NaPoWrMo Bio
Not Posted
Impromptu Pensively
Sam Adams Grew Up Poor
Ecstatic Feelings Pensively
Appealing Award
Transporting the Stone
Dignified, Walking by the Sea
Traveling Down the Road
Sam Adams Three Wishes Pensively
April 17
Posted
Caregiving In this Day and Age Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
Dinosaur Story Writer’s Digest
Coffee Cup Dreams PSH
Coffee Inheritance NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
Teacup Dictionary Poem Writing com
Foxy, Girlish, Fridge
Huffing and Puffing Pensively
Words Fail Me Pensively
My Transport Awaits Pensively
Swank, Individualized Fridge
Broken Down Souls Pensively
All Abide
FedEx Shooting Indianapolis Fridge
April 18
Posted
Morning Rituals PSH Morning
Ode to Berkeley City Poem Writers
Met My Fate That Date Skeltonic Poem NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
Mash Pensively Food
We Talk All Day Same but Different
Our Wealth is Our Health Pensively Wealth
Uprecedented FedEx Shooting Indianapolis Fridge
April 19
Posted
Tree of Life Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
There is No Such Place Writing Com Do Drop-in
Waiting for the End Writer’s Digest
Life-Changing Dream PSH Dream Girl
Unhinged Lunatic howling at the Moon
Howling at the Moon
Pink Super Moon Inspires Lunanacy
Not Posted
Ann Coulter is a disgusting depraved Piece of work – a found poem
Dealbreakers Pensively Prompt Relationships
Uncanny 39 Words Poem Pensively
Power Goes Out Pensively Prompt
April 20
Posted
Sounds Writing Com Do Dew Drop Inn
Writer’s Digest When Sam Adams Met God, An Ekphrastic Challenge Writer’s Digest
Eating Live Octopus in Korea in 1979 A Menu Poem PSH Food
Dream Sense NaPoWrMo Dreams
Not Posted
As I Kiss Her All Over Pensively
As I sit on Furniture Pensively
Snarling Cup of Coffee Writing com Poetry Corner
April 21
Posted
Writing Com Do Drop Inn 65 Years —acting your age (or not!)
If the Moon Could Tap Dance PSH Lunatic
Anti-vapers, anti-masks and other covid Idiots Poetic Rants NaPoWrMo
Cats are Aliens Writer Digest
Not Posted
Canned Foods Delights Pensively
Sometimes I left it
Dinner for Two at Country Inn
April 22
Posted
A Million Ways to Say I Love You Writer’s Digest Love
An Angel in My View the Backflip Poetry Prompt: Imagination’s Reversal Strategy PSH Reversal
On That Date NaPoWrMo Sijo 1
Not Posted
Justice at Last – Take That Ann Coulter
Life as an Ant SF
April 23
Posted
Poem based on a question Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Love
Uncle Sam Wants You
Make Love to Me as We Used to Writers Digest
My Life Began NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
Two Lovers Walking in the Evening Light Writing Com – Other Prompt, Revised Stormy Lady Prompt Rain
Eagle Soaring Above Her Secret Nest, Revised Stormy Lady Prompt, Writing Com Eagle
A Kind of Madness Pensively
It was Different Pensively
Blue Lights, Pink Lights Light Up the Night Sky Pensively
A Young Blond Woman
April 24
Posted
Met My Fate That Date Free will (or not?!) Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Fate
When I Was A Young Man, She Came to Me When I Was A Young Man, She Came to Me Shakespearean Sonnet About Shakespearean Sonnet PSH Shakespeare
Ode to Kimchi NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
The Grim Reaper Gathers His Posse Writing Com Dark Dreamscapes Grim Reaper
Visiting Mother’s Grave Pensively Ghosts
Visiting Father’s Grave Pensively
A Serene morning
Late for a Date
Philosophical Musings Black Out Poem with Commentary
Tucker Carlson Says that Dereck Chauvin Verdict Seals Devil’s Bargain Between America and BLM
Frank’s Launch Flames Out Black Out Poem
April 25
Posted
Romeo And Juliet Fantasy Love Poem based on a play (It’s Shakespeare’s birthday, but any play!) Appointment with the Grim Reaper Appointment Poem Writer’s Digest Grim Reaper
Blue Blues PSH the Blues
Not Alone – response to Alone by Edgar Allen Poe
Not Posted
Coffee Ziggurat Writer’s Digest Poets Corner
Affordable Travel Pensively
Left Options on the Table Pensively
The Rat Ran and He Chased Pensively
Wild Animals in Korea
Beware of Fire Season Writer’s Digest Poets Corner
Rainy Days Just God’s Tears Writer’s Digest Poets Corner
April 26
Posted
Watching Movies with Subtitles Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Movies
Wild Animals in Korea NaPoWrMo
If China had Discovered Europe Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
Not Posted
Restless 19 words Pensively
Spies snoop Opp – Loop Rhyme Pensively Rhyme
Gone in The Moment Pensively
Serene Thoughts in The Air Pensively
American Dreams Consular
April 27
Posted
Morning Thoughts Writers Digest
To Those Who Have Gone on PSH
Occasional Poem Advice to Those Getting Married NaPoWrMo
The Night of the Affair with A Shape-Shifting Alien PSH SF
Itty Bitty Bio Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Bio
Parody of Alone Writers Digest Edgar Allen Poe
Cosmos’s World Writer Digest Bio
Not Posted
Reasons for Admission
Around the World, Pensively
Writing Com, A Culinary Disaster?
Lonely Farm Pensively
Italian Ancestry Based on internet usings by William Walton
The Kindness of Her Love Pensively
April 28
Posted
Why I Don’t Believe in Christianity
Rafting at The End of The World PSH End of The World
Wytai Blues – Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows NaPoWrMo
Florida School Fires Vaccinated Teachers NaPoWrMo Florida
Not Posted
Writing Com First Trip to Korea
Political Rants
Giving Way to Passion Pensively
JC’s Descent into Madness Define Insanity Pensively Insanity
Bad Teeth Poem Bad Teeth Bad Body Poems
Bad Ears Poem Bad Body Poems
My Father’s Bad Ear and Eyes Body Parts
Bad Eyes Poem Body Parts
Bad Hair Bad Hair
Bad Nose Poem Body Parts
Bad Feet Feet
Angela Superpowers Poem
The Lonely Lighthouse Stands Guard Over Empty World Lighthouse Photo Pensively End of the world
Which Would You Rather Throw Away: Love or Money? Pensively Love
Which Would You Rather Throw Away: Love or Money? Pensively Money
Tight-Lippy One Leg Women Pensively Terrorist Victim
Wednesday, April 28
Posted
Hump Day Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
Remix Howling at the Pink Super Moon Writing Digest
Left Hands Blues PSH Left Hand
NaPoWrMo Unanswered Questions
Not Posted
Winter Dreams of Barbados, Pensively
Joy in Morning Sun Sunrise
April 29
Posted
Rain Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
Evening Delights Writer’s Digest Evening
Kombucha Glass PSH
The Window of Love NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
Sam Adams Sees Death All Around Pensively
The Pink Super Moon Pensively
I Met My Fate That Date Dream Writing Com Poets Corner
A Witch, A Zombie, Ghost and Elvis, and Witch
Bad Rabbit Runs from Wolves
Life in Rocky and Bullwinkle Universe Rocky and Bullwinkle Show
April 30
Posted
Catharsis Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
Goodbye Writer Digest
Reimagine Your Days
Directions to Narnia NaPoWrMo
Not Posted
Hamper My Fears Pensively
Lonely Lake at The End of The World Pensively End of The World
Birds Flying Over Dead City
Another Letter to Microsoft
Fridge Shy Matt Gaetz Cheers Lady Gaga
Poetry Counts for 2021
Total YTD 860 as of May 2, 2021
January 180 7 per day
February 200 7 per day
March 206 7 per day
April 269 9 per day
May 3
If I continue at this pace, I will have over 3,000 new poems by the end of the
year. I will be editing all my poetry and post a total count to date by the end of the year.
Begin Poems
April 25
Appoitment With the Grim Reaper Writer’s Digest
For today’s prompt, write an appointment poem. My first thoughts with appointments conjure up visions of doctors, dentists, and parent-teacher conferences. But there are also business meetings and romantic dates. For the most part, people are very appointment-centric, because it gives people a reason and opportunity to come together (kind of like my annual appointment to poem daily on this site).
Appointment with the Grim Reaper
Sam Adams
One day received a summons
From the Grim Reaper
The note read
“Your appointment
For final status determination (FSD)
Is confirmed for midnight Saturday
A driver
Will come for you
Be prepared
Be Afriad
Tell no one
This appointment is high
Q level classified.”
Discourser to non-authorized people
Will be severely punished
Sam got up at 11:30
And waited for the courier
While his wife slept
There was a knock on the door
He went out
The courier was dressed
In a black uniform
But did not look entirely human
He had a blank face
No hair
And horns on his head
He said
I am your driver today
After your hearing
I will drive you
Either to Hell,
Or to heaven
Or back here
If you are given a reprieve
Of your FSD
They drove off
In his black SUV
The plates read, 666 hell
They drove through the night
Entered highway 666
The road to Hell
They soon entered
A dark forbidding forest
The road ended
They got out
And walked
Found themselves
In a large field
They walked
To a large black tent
A demon attendant
Barked
Name and DOB
Sam Adams
10-30-195
The demon waved
a hand held device
over his head
said
You have an appointment
With Mr. GR himself
Proceed to door number 2
For your FSD
Good luck
He entered the room
Mr. GR dressed in black
Wearing cool Ray-ban glasses
Looked up from his computer
Sam Adams
He growled
You have been given a reprieve
From Hell
For five years
Your next FSD will be final
Probably Hell but maybe Heaven
That decision is beyond my pay grade
You may go back home
My driver will drive you
Go!
The driver took him home
He went to bed
Woke up convinced
It was all a dream
Later that day
A letter arrived
Appointment with Mr. GR
For final status determination (FSD)
Has been confirmed for
Five years from today’s date
We advise you to get
Your affairs in order
Do the right Thing
There is no appeal
From the final FSD
PSH Blue Blues
Use color to spark your imagination. For starters, I suggest you brainstorm /green/! Consider green with envy; green around the gills; green grass of home; eco-green; and finally, all the myriad shades of green in the landscape. Use the word /green/ in your poem or imply it through your word choices. If you don’t care for green, try another color that adds poetry to the rainbow!
Here’s an example that is both implicit and explicit based upon green: a traditional 5/7/5 Haiku: Shamrocks greening now/after winter dormancy/one white bloom for luck.
Blue Blues
Once in a while
I wake up
Feeling the blues
Singing the blues
Being the blues
Then I lookout
At the bright blue sky
And the dawning sun
And at my wife
Wearing a blue shirt
And blue jeans
She smiles
The blues fly out the window
Joining the Blue sky
I go for a walk
As the fog of blues fade
Away in the morning sun
Not Alone – Response to Alone by Edgar Allen Poe NaPoWrMo
Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that responds, in some way, to another. This could be as simple as using a line or image from another poem as a jumping-off point, or it could be a more formal poetic response to the argument or ideas raised in another poem. You might use a favorite (or least favorite poem) as the source for your response. And if you’re having trouble finding a poem to respond to, here are a few that might help you generate ideas: “This World is Not Conclusion,” by Peter Gizzi, “In That Other Fantasy Where We Live Forever,” by Wanda Coleman, “La Chalupa, the Boat,” by Jean Valentine, or “Aubade: Some Peaches, After Storm,” by Carl Phillips.
Not Alone – Response to Alone by Edgar Allen Poe
Sam Adams
Was a bit of a loner
Lost in his inner world
Filled with dreams
Nightmares
Poetic fragments
Short story ideas
Always felt like he was living
he Edgar Allen Poe poem,
“Alone
From childhood’s hour, I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source, I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I loved—I loved alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ‘round me roll’s
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—”
But then one day
He met the girl
Of his dreams
She walked off a bus
Into his life
Became his wife
And he was alone
No more
When I was a young man, she came to me, Sonnet about a Shakespeare Sonnet PSH
When I was a young man, she came to me
When I was a young man, she came to me
She came to me one day while I dreamed
I met my fate that date, our love came to be
I saw her there, who are you I screamed?
She just smiled, filling my heart with love
I did not know what I should do or say
As she entered my life, became my wife
I will never forget for on that day
When she walked off that bus became real
I saw here there standing love in her eyes
I did not know what right then I should feel
I looked at her my heart began to rise
Just like in a famous Shakespeare poem
My heart began just like a poet
April 26
Morning Thoughts Writers Digest
For today’s prompt, write a thoughtful poem. Of course, my first thought (maybe like yours) is, “Aren’t all poems thought poems?” Well, I guess, but I’m thinking of a poem that captures a thought or random ramblings running ’round your cranium. It doesn’t have to be a rambling poem, but that’s one thing. Another possibility is having two people share their thoughts and/or NOT share them. Think about it a moment, and then unleash your thought poem.
Morning Thoughts
Every morning
I sit and think
Deep thoughts
Writing down my dreams
My hopes, my fears
My nightmares
But more important
Than anything
I record my happy thoughts
Of my life
With the love of life
My wife
Those Who Have Gone On PSH
Consider writing a poem to or about someone who has died or is no longer in your life. This could be in the form of a letter, a description of the person, a list of things you miss about the person, or just tell them about your day. Show emotion through concrete objects and actions. Try not to tell. I look forward to reading your words.
To Those Who Have Gone On
I am 65 years old
And as I get older
I recall with fondness
All those who have gone on
So many people
Have passed on
To the other lands
Leaving us with their memories
My father died in 1985
My mother in 2005
My sister in 2007
My friends have also passed on
My HS debate friend
Demel T died from AIDS
I lost my college roommate
Jon W
David C my Peace course
Language student
I lost my visa line colleague
Paul S
I lost my second and third bosses
In the foreign service
Julian in a terrorist bombing
Ted H who I worked with twice
Dead of a heart attack
Chris my boss in Bangkok
Also, dead from a heart attack
Judy my artistic friend
From Bombay days
And so many others
Have gone on
I only hope wherever they are
That they are thinking of me
As I think fondly of them
Advice to Those Getting Married An Occasion Poem NaPoWrMo
Our prompt for today (optional, as always) is to write an “occasional” poem. What’s that? Well, it’s a poem suited to, or written for, a particular occasion. This past January, lots of people who usually don’t encounter poetry got a dose when Amanda Gorman read a poem at President Biden’s inauguration. And then she followed it up with a poem at the Superbowl (not traditionally an event associated with verse!) The poem you write can be for an occasion in the past or the future, one important to you and your family (a wedding, a birth), or for an occasion in the public eye (the Olympics, perhaps?).
Advice to Those Getting Married
Often when I go to a wedding
I am asked for some advice
To pass on to the newlyweds
Advice, words of wisdom
Based on my almost 40 years
Of being a happily married man
What can I say to them?
I don’t know the answer
Other than this
The most important thing
For a married man to realize is this
There are two rules of marriage
Rule number one
Your wife is always right
Rule number two
See rule number one
That advice has worked
For me for almost 40 years
Manifestations of deep love, such profound thoughts all around me
Dreaming dark dreams, of other worlds, filled with a deep love
I see it, all around my heart, manifestations of my love
Corona Sijo
corona
Coronavirus fears erupt, all around us, fear stalking us
All around us dark fears, fears of the end, end of the world
Death stalking, filling the world, filling it with fear, death is near
General corona unleashes his viral army, on the world
Everyone is afraid, nonsense in the media, antivacers lie
People don’t wear masks, masks that would save their foolish lives
Why I Don’t Believe in Christianity
On Easter Sunday,
I often think about Christianity
I don’t understand why anymore
would believe such nonsense
The essential story makes no sense
An imaginary all-powerful deity
that no one has ever seen or heard
Except for psychotic patients or drug users
Comes down to earth
and impregnates a married woman
Who has never had sex for some reason?
And her husband
Is okay with that
Believes her wild story
And still does not have sex
Until after the baby is born
Then there is total silence
Nothing about Jesus’s childhood
30 years later he emerges
Preaching love, peace, and brotherhood
And denouncing the corrupt temple leaders
and the Jewish leaders as well
The miracles
Also, don’t make any sense
In the real world,
You can’t turn fish into bread
Can’t walk on water
Can’t raise the dead etc. Etc.
Just does not happen
In the world, we live in
And has not happened
since those ancient days
Then the last supper makes some sense
Jesus knows he is about to be betrayed
But he does not confront Judas
Does not run away
Does not encourage his disciples
To run away with him
The whole Jesus Mary M
Story also does not make sense
Jesus must have been married
Or he was gay
There is no doubt
Either way,
The story makes no sense
The crucifixion
Is it the only part
of the story I buy
Jesus was put to death
Because he was a rebel leader
And the Romans tolerated no dissent
To the Roman’s right to conquer and rule
The rising from the dead stories
All contradict one another
And Jesus was either walking
As a normal human being
Or was a ghost
The door was rent open
As if by lightening
Or not
Finally, we have been waiting
Over 2,000 years for his return
You would think
If the story is remotely true
He would have turned up by now
Except he has
As many lunatics
Claim to be Jesus
In the flesh
Including my college housemate
Who after taking too much LSD
Proclaimed he was the messiah
Come back to earth
To save us all
From Impending doom
All delusional of course
and that is what I think of Christianity
nothing but fairy tales
and mass delusions
surrounding a kernel of truth
Love each other
Treat each other right
Don’t be consumed with greed
but couldn’t that message be made simpler
Without all the associated nonsense?
So, on this day I say
Open your minds
And discard the nonsensical
Elements of Christian thought
And follow the true teachings of Jesus
Even if you don’t believe
in the imaginary man in the sky
Rafting at The End of The World End of The World
Use the Fritz Perl’s-inspired -analysis technique of setting an empty chair beside your chair; mentally put your poem topic (or a dream you want to both analyze and write a poem about) into the other chair and ask it questions. To answer the question, get up out of your chair and move over to the other chair and answer it as your topic or as your dream. While you are in the second chair if you just let what wants to come out of your mouth come out, the second chair, that will probably be your subconscious mind talking to you.
Based this on a recent dream yesterday, or tonight
Rafting at the End of the World
One day Sam Adams
Woke up and found
His bed had been transformed
Into a raft
And they were being swept away
Down a flooded river
after a great flood
had destroyed the city.
The raft floats down
a river filled with broken-down buildings,
Dead bodies, dead cats, and dead dogs
and debris all over.
Sam Adams looks up
At the distant banks
On the left bank
He sees wolf-like creatures prowling
about looking to eat any survivors.
On the right side
There are alien creatures
in silver space suits
shooting at any survivors
The raft is careening
Out of control
Towards a huge cataract
Of impending doom
April 27
Florida School Fires Vaccinated Teachers NaPoWrMo Florida
Cops Open Fire on a Black Man Sitting in His Car in his Driveway
In today’s (optional) prompt, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem inspired by an entry from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. The entries are very vivid – maybe too vivid! But perhaps one of the sorrows will strike a chord with you or even get you thinking about defining an in-between, minor, haunting feeling that you have, and that does not yet have a name.
n. a feature of modern society that suddenly strikes you as absurd and grotesque—from zoos and milk-drinking to organ transplants, life insurance, and fiction—part of the faint background noise of absurdity that reverberates from the moment our ancestors first crawled out of the slime but could not for the life of them remember what they got up to do.
Random Wytai Moments
Florida School Fires Vaccinated Teachers
In Florida, a private school
Going out all anti-COVID Vaccine
Has banned teachers who are vaccinated
What’s next banning masks
Declaring COVID a hoax
As part of their school policy?
Tucker Carlos Forcing Children to Wear Mask is Criminal Child Abuse
Tucker Carlson
Tucker Carlson says Cops should be called to prevent mask child abuse
Really? Tucker?
That is what the police should be doing?
Forcing a child to wear a mask
To protect themselves and others
Is now felony child abuse?
Cops Open Fire on a Black Man Sitting in His Car in his Driveway
Five Cops converge on a black man
Who is sitting in his car
With his hands on the steering wheel
waiting for them
To come up to tell him
Why he was pulled over
Instead of approaching the vehicle
To talk to him
they do not say a word
They open fire
Shooting 40 shots
His crime
Alleged drug dealing
History of running away from the cops
But his real crime?
Who knows?
Other than driving while black
When will this madness end?
April 28
Hump Day Writing Com Dew Drop Inn Time
Half the week is done
Halfway to the end
Another week in paradise
With the love of my life
By my side
Remix Howling at the Pink Super Moon Writing Digest
For today’s prompt, write a remix poem. This has become one of my favorite prompts because it asks us to look over what we’ve written this month and pick something (or many somethings) to poem out in a new way. Maybe your free verse becomes a sonnet, or your sestina transforms into haiku. Or take a line or phrase from each of your poems this month and work it into a cohesive new creation.
Howling at the Pink Super Moon
On a moonlit late night
The Pink Supermoon
Casts a baleful light
On 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
His buddies 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
An elephant in heat
When into the bar
on the highway to hell
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 carnal 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 Pink Supermoon
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
with all of his money
as his wallet was gone
He woke up from
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 Sam
In howling at the moon
In the fading light
Of the lost night
of the newly damned
Source poems
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 skin-tight leather pants
Looked so fine
That my eyeballs hurt
Finally, I had to say something
I gathered up my manly courage
I walked up to her
She looked at me
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
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
To run amuck
Free of its civilized restrains
Throwing off its clothes
Stripping naked
Running wild
Naked and free
A wild man
Enjoying his freedom
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 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
The Pink Moon Inspires Lunacy
On a moonlit night
The Pink moon
Shone casting a baleful light
On 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
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 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
Left Hands Blues
Write a poem using your nondominant hand using “My head is a..” as your first line of the poem.
Left Hands Blues
My head hurts
As I type these words
Using my left hand
Reflecting upon my past
As a child
Forced to write
With my right hand
Even though
I was Left-handed
NaPoWrMo Unanswered Questions
Our prompt today (optional, as always), is to write a poem that poses a series of questions. The questions could be a mix of the serious (“What is the meaning of life?”) and humorous (“What’s the deal with cats knocking things off tables?”), the interruptive (“Could you repeat that?”) and the conversational (“Are those peanuts? Can I have some?”). You can choose to answer them – or just let the questions keep building up, creating a poem that asks the reader to come up with their answer
Unanswered Questions
I have so many questions to ask
First how and why I dreamt
Of meeting my wife.
How did she haunt my dreams?
How did she come to life?
What was our past life like?
Why Do I fall in love with her every day?
What does love at first sight mean?
Why did that occur to me three times?
What does hate at first sight mean?
Also, three times in my life,
what does that mean?
What is this thing called love anyway?
Will we meet aliens in my lifetime?
Will I live to see humans on Mars?
Will I live long enough?
to walk on the moon.
When will we develop new body parts?
When can I get new teeth?
Finally, when I die
will there be a heaven or hell?
What will my judgment be?
Finally, will people remember me after I die?
April 29
Rain Writing Com Dew Drop Inn
rain falling
Rain
Are God’s tears
Crying over the mess
His creatures
Made of his creation
Evening Delights Writer Digest Evening
For today’s prompt, write an evening poem. The evening can be a quiet and contemplative time, a stressed or fearful time, or, well, party time. Evenings can be lonely or romantic, cool, or humid, inspirational, or numbing. And today (or tonight, depending on when you consume your poetry prompts), the evening is the time for poeming–even if you’re doing it in the middle of the afternoon.
Evening Delights
wine
My favorite time of day
Is early evening
Cocktail hour
When I sit down
To dinner
With my lovely wife
The love of my life
Either at home
Or at a restaurant
After our evening walk
As we eat dinner
We salute the end
Of the day
With a glass of wine
Or a cocktail
Or Soju
As the day fades
Into an evening
Filled with Love
Kombucha Glass PSH Kombucha
This prompt is inspired by 1.) the moment in The Octopus Teacher when she attaches herself to his chest and he muses about not knowing it would be the last time they made contact. (hmmm, like what would he do differently if he knew?) And 2.) the difference between straight descriptive/instructive language (like directions for Microsoft) and the sublime, artistic language of tenderness.
First you have to see the movie. Highly recommended for all sentient beings anyway, so I don’t feel bad about the added homework. You will thank me if you haven’t seen it. I promise. If you have, you will surely remember this stunning moment in the film. Feel into its tenderness and gentle communication. Recall tenderness in different parts of your body. Its scent and texture, colors, and sensation. Look around your writing area and select an item that holds a feeling of tenderness, or gentleness, either because of the way it is used or with whom you associate it. Write two… three to four-minute free writes. The first is simply, a perfunctory, clinical, if you will, description of the item you selected. The second is a treatise on its tenderness, in the voice of the object.Finally your mission, should you decide to accept it….is to write a poem that takes the material from both free writes and shuffles them together to make a single poem. How would you communicate if you knew it would be the last communication remembered forever? That said, I wish you communications you will always want to be remembered by. After all, we know how significant the last line of any poem is to its entire experience.
You may change tenses or syntax if necessary, in the final poem. And you may eliminate anything that no longer fits…. but trust that everything you need for your final poem is already there.
Kombucha Glass
Kombucha
Every day I start my day
With a glass of home-brew
Kombucha that is
Made with tea
Flavored with fruit juices
Fired up with Turmeric
But most importantly
Made with love
By my wife
The love of my life
The window of Love
And now, for our prompt (optional, as always). This one is called “in the window.” Imagine a window looking into a place or onto a particular scene. It could be your childhood neighbor’s workshop, or a window looking into an alien spaceship. Maybe a window looking into a witch’s gingerbread cottage, or Lord Nelson’s cabin aboard the H.M.S. Victory. What do you see? What’s going on?
Window of Love
Every morning
I step outside
Do my morning thing
While my wife
The love of my life
Sleeps peacefully
I look through the window
From the balcony herb garden
And watch her sleeping
My heart filling with love
As she sleeps away
The early morning
When she wakes up
She fills me
With the sunshine
Of her love
Driving my blues
Away
With the dawning sun
April 30
Catharis
Finally, the end
Has been reached
Of this annual poetry
Marathon
April poetry madness
Has consumed my soul
And in the end
A sense of accomplishment
The ultimate catharsis
Goodbye Writer Digest
For today’s prompt, write a goodbye poem. Whether leaving for a holiday or going to get groceries, many people find themselves in positions of saying goodbye to each other. So, this feels like an appropriate way to close out this year’s challenge…until we meet again.
Good-Bye
To all those who
have passed on
to another,
hopefully better world
I say goodbye
So many people
Have died this year
From COVID
From Gun violence
From the aging
Of the baby boomer generation
Many musicians
Actors and writers
Have played their last songs
And we will remember them all
Walter Mondale VP, Ambassador, Good guy
Prince Philip ultimate husband
DMX great rapper
George Segal great actor
Vernon Jordan ultimate power player
Norman Jester the phantom tollbooth is closed
Lawrence Ferlinghetti one of my favorite writers
Chick Corea one of my favorite musicians
Mary Wilson just supreme
George Schultz my First big boss
Christopher Plummer the Actor
Larry King final interview
Hank Arron greatest baseball player ever
And so many others
Will soon joins them
As the coronavirus marches on
And guns continue to kill thousands
And cancer
Traffic accidents
And the aging boomer population
Fades away due to old age
I am 65 years old
And as I get older
I have had to say goodbye
To so many people
I am losing count
But I will miss them all
They live on in my memories
My father died in 1985
My mother in 2005
My sister in 2007
My friends have also passed on
My HS debate friend
Demel T died from AIDS
I lost my college roommate
Jon W
David C my Peace course
language student
I lost my visa line colleague
Paul S
I lost my second and third bosses
In the foreign service
Julian in a terrorist bombing
Ted H who I worked with twice
Dead of a heart attack
Chris my boss in Bangkok
Also dead from a heart attack
Judy my artistic friend
From Bombay days
And so many others
Have gone on
I only hope wherever they are
That they are thinking of me
As I think fondly of them
Reimagine Your Days:Ramen Today PSH Ramen Reimagine Your DaysRamen Today PSH Food
a poem about yesterday that uses the word “possum” or write a poem about today that uses the word “ramen” or write a poem about tomorrow that uses the word “orthopedist”
Today is a Good Day To Eat Ramen
Today is a good day
To sit down
And eat a simple bowl
Of ramen
With an egg on top
Koreans call it ramyeon,
라면
Ramyeon
The Japanese call it ramen
ラーメン
Ramen
Chinese call it
拉麵
Lāmiàn
But it is the same thing
No matter where you are
When I first lived in Korea
I ate a lot of ramen
To stretch my Peace Corps budget
There are many new variations
Coming on the market
Even cheese ramen
But in the end
My favorite
Is the basic ramen
With an egg on top
And a side of Kimchi
Directions to Narnia NaPoWrMo
narnia scene
And now for our final (still optional!) prompt. Today’s prompt is based on a prompt written by Jacqueline Saphar and featured in this group of prompts published back in 2015 by The Poetry Society of the U.K. This prompt challenges you to write a poem in the form of a series of directions describing how a person should get to a particular place. It could be a real place, like your local park, or an imaginary or unreal place, like “the bottom of your heart,” or “where missing socks go.” Fill your poem with sensory details, and make them as wild or intimate as you like
Directions to Narnia
The land of Narnia exists
But the entranceways
Are hidden in secret places
All over the world
To get to Narnia
First, you have to believe
That Narnia exists
Then you have to travel
To spirit-filled places
Like the top of a mountain
Go to the sacred mountain
In China, Japan, Korea, or Thailand
Hike behind the Buddhist temple
Find a cave hidden under a waterfall
Chant five times
Narnia exists Narnia exists Narnia Exist
A portal to other worlds
Will open up
Step-through
And you will find yourself
In Narnia
I have a small request to make. I want to expand my followers on all my platforms. So if you have not signed up yet for this blog, or followed me on intraframe, Twitter, Pinterest, Tumblr, or Bloglovin or listened to my podcast on Spotify please do so now.
This is the fifth and perhaps final time I am doing the April poetry challenge. The goal is to write at least one poem per day. I am averaging about eight per day and posting four reserving four as “unpublished”. I am basing the poems on prompts from “Writing com Dew Drop Inn”, “Writers Digest”, “Poetry Superhighway” and “NaPoWrMo” prompt daily prompts and on “Pensively Prompt’ et all daily prompts. I am combining prompts where possible. I will post these here in batches every five days or so. Each poem will have an image that helped inspired the poem. All postings will be podcast a few days later on Spotify and elsewhere. Each posting will be a separate posting, but the index will be cumulative. The final posting will have the complete list of all poems written whether posted or not. Comments welcome but please keep it civil. Some of my poetry tends to be a bit “in your face” or “political” from a “leftwing perspective.” If it offends you in some way, please accept my apologies in advance. That is never my intent.
This is part three covering poems written April 15 to April 20posted on the 21.
I am writing some other poems per day but not posting them as I need to reserve some “unpublished” poems. There will be a podcast version shortly on Spotify, Public Radio, and elsewhere. I will list all the poems I wrote in my final April posting, May 1 KST. Posted
Index
April 15, 2021
Living in an SF World Writing Com Dew Drop-in
Topic: SF
Narnia beckons PSH Prompt
Topic: Narnia
My Home Office Writer Digest
Topic: home
Cosmos Aller NaPoWrMo
Topic: Bio
April 16
Caregiving In this Day and Age Writing Com Dew Drop-in
Topic: Corona
Dinosaur Story, Writers digest
Topic: dinosaurs
Coffee Cup Dreams PSH
Topic: coffee
Coffee Inheritance, NaPoWrMo Prompt
Topic: coffee
April 17
Morning rituals PSH
Topic: Morning
Ode to Berkeley Writers Digest
Topic: Berkeley
Met My Fate That Date Skeltonic Poem
Topic: fate
April 18
There is no such place as Writing Com Dew Drop-in…
Topic: Oz, Narnia
Sounds Writing Com Dew Drop-in…
Topic: sounds
April 19
65 Years Young Writing com Drew Drop-In
Topic: Age, Meaning of Life
Howling with The Dancing Moon, PSH
Topic: Moon
Writer’s Digest Animal in Title – Cats Are Space Aliens
Topic: Cats
Anti-Vaxers, Anti-Masks, And Other Covid Idiots Poetic Rants
Napowrmo Prompt:
Topic: Corona
April 20
—Tree of Life… (See Link for A Drawing/Journaling Exercise)
Tree of Life
Topic: Satan, Eden, God
April 15—Machines Writing com Dew Drop-In
The Robots are Coming
The Robots are coming
They will soon
Take away
More and more jobs
Leaving people free
To do other things
But what will we all do?
When the machines
Do everything
From driving and delivering
To cooking our food
Cleaning our houses
Cleaning our offices
Even doing our lawyering
And our doctoring
What will we do?
When the evil computer overlord
Emerges in the future
And enslave us all
To the robotic overlords?
Narnia Beckons PSH
Use five different colors.
Utilize each of the five senses
Write about your hand (what is it? What does it do?) without using the words “hand,” “finger/s” or “thumb.”
Go to an imaginary place that is commonly known, don’t name it until the end
What did you do during covid that you wouldn’t have done otherwise?
narnia
Narnia beckons
Red dawning sun
Blue sky
Yellow flowers
Pink flowers
Golden flowers
By my side
Narnia beckons
During covid lockdown
Reading Narnia in Spanish
My Home Office Writer Digest
For today’s prompt, write a poem inspired only by stimulus from where you’re sitting (or standing, if you write will standing). In the past, I’ve written poems about pencils, characters in books I can see, and things I can see out my window when using this prompt. So, consider your immediate surroundings and poem away today.
For several years
I have had a home office
Chaotic, badly designed
Adhoc mess
But now I finally have
A decent home office
With a state of the art desk
That I can raise or lower
As I sit fit
My wife sits next to me
We can finally work together
Managing our real estate
And investments
I do my writing projects
With her at my side
Watching the news
Or listening to music
As we work side by side
In my peaceful home office
Cosmos Aller NaPoWrMo<
And last but not least, our (optional) prompt for the day. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that delves into the meaning of your first or last name. Looking for inspiration? Take a look at this poem by Mark Wunderlich, appropriately titled “Wunderlich.”
Cosmos Aller
I am Jake Cosmos Aller
Born John Cosmos Aller
65 years ago in Berkeley, California
I am the third generation Cosmos
The name comes from a translation
Of our German family name Aller
The story Is that my great grandfather
Wanted a middle name
To reflect an English translation
Of the German word “Aller”
He had a choice
“Cosmos” or “Universe”
He chose “Cosmos”
Otherwise
I would be John “Universe” Aller
My Grandfather was the first Cosmos
Curtis Cosmos Aller Sr
My father Was the second Cosmos
Curtis Cosmos Aller, Jr
And I am the third
John (Jake) Cosmos Aller
Either way
The name Cosmos
Is now my pen name
No one believes
This story
They all believe
I was called Cosmos
Because I was born
In Berkeley
And the name Cosmos
Seems appropriate
For a child born
In Berkeley
Which is a pretty
Cosmic city
After all
Unfortunately, I am the last Cosmos
In my family’s line
As I have no children
If I had a son
He would have been called
Robert Cosmos Aller
April 16
Caregiving In this Day and Age, writing com Do Drop-in
corona
Caregiving in this day and age
Is difficult
As the Coronavirus wreaks havoc
Across the land
Thousands of people still dying
Every single day
As General Corona marches
Across the land
The caregivers are our unseen heroes
Saving lives every day
For very little pay
They do what they must
Providing care
to the elderly
The forgotten old people
Living their quiet life
Of despair
Dinosaur Story, Writers Digest
dinosaur
For today’s prompt, take the phrase “(blank) Story,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Toy Story,” “Super Long Unusually Strange Story,” and/or “Same Old Story.” Poem your story, so we can get at the second half of this challenge.
A metal dinosaur
Stands in a park
Deeply dreaming
The dinosaur
Comes to life
Millions of years
Have past
The dinosaur sniffs
Says to himself
Hmm I am back
Life is good
Coffee Cup Dreams PSH
coffee
Writing from the point of view of an inanimate object can open the floodgates. We carry things around with us everywhere – in our pockets, purses, backpacks, vehicles… but how do those objects see the world? This freewriting activity puts your voice to bed, while the object’s voice is finally spoken.
Dig through your backpack, purse, bag, junk drawer – and pull out the first object you touch.
Write a poem from the point of view of that object.
How does the egg timer feel about sitting on top of the stove when the cookies are done baking? What does the Costco Membership Card feel when you pass over it for Sam’s Warehouse? How does the maple syrup react when you reach for the honey instead?
My coffee cup
Contains dreams
It dreams every morning
As I pour my coffee
The coffee cup
Comes to life
Filled with delicious coffee
The coffee cup
Loves to provide me
With the pleasure
Of drinking coffee
The coffee cup smiles
His work is done
Coffee Inheritance
cartoon man who drank too much coffee
And now for our prompt (optional, as always). Today’s prompt comes to us from Juan Martinez. It asks you to think about a small habit you picked up from one of your parents, and then to write a piece that explores an early memory of your parent engaged in that habit, before shifting into writing about yourself engaging in the same habit.
My father and mother
Were big coffee drinkers
They liked it black
My mother said
Coffee should be black
Like her heart
But her heart
Was filled with light
And love
She drank five to six
Cups every day
My father also
Was a big coffee drinker
They both drank coffee
All-day long
Oddly, it did not seem
To keep them from sleeping
Nor did it make them
Jittery
From too much caffeine
My parents did not allow me
To drink coffee
Until I was 18
When I finally join them
And became
A coffee achiever
Now when I drink my daily cup
I think back to my parents
Drinking their coffee
Thinking back
To my coffee inheritance
There is no such place
narnia scene
There is no such place
I often wonder
What would it be like
If the mythical land of oz
Or Narnia existed
If we could travel
To other realms
I wonder if
While I alive
If we will colonize
The Moon and Mars
And if I will travel
To the stars
Before my time is done
Sunday, April 18
Sounds
temple blog bell-zen
Sounds and sights
Of unknown worlds
Fill my head
I hear the temple bells
I see the sights
Of my dreams
Unfold in my head
Sounds and sights
Of worlds yet to be
Fill my heart
With anticipation
Monday, April 19
Acting your age (or not!)
65 Years Young
I am now 65
A senior citizen
But in my heart
I still feel
Like I am still
20 years old
People say
I should act my age
But what that means
If I think
I am still 20?
In the garden
Of Eden
Adam and Eve
Were forbidden
To eat the fruit
Of the tree of life
Satan sent a snake
To temp them
To eat the forbidden fruit
Of the tree of life
When they did
God knew
And banished them
From the garden of Eden
For their act of cosmic defiance
Morning Rituals PSH
coffee
If a stranger were to watch you through your window right now, what would they see and what would they say about it? Paint us a verbal picture. Play around with the point of view. You can be the observer describing what he/she sees in a third-person report, or switch it around to the first or second person
Sam Adams starts his day
The same way every day
He gets up
At the crack of dawn
Leaves his sleeping wife
Washes up
Drinks two cups
of coffee
Watches the news
While writing down his dreams
And his daily poetry
Thinking about life
Looking out the window
At the dawning sun
Lights up his living room
Thinking about life
He goes to his sleeping wife
Waking her with a kiss
Falling in love yet again
Ode to Berkeley Writers Digest
free roaming berkeley
For today’s prompt, write a city poem. You can make the title of your poem the name of a city and write your poem. Or you can mention a city in your poem. And, of course, you can just set your poem in a city without naming which one it is. It’s also okay if you’re more rurally inclined, to just write a poem about the city slickers. As always, have fun with it.
I grew up in Berkeley
In the late 60s and 70s
A wild magical time
In a magical city
By the bay
Berkeley was the center
Of my universe
For many years
Until I left it
In my early 20s
To wander about the world
Yet Berkeley never left me
I am still in Berkeley
It lives on in my heart
And soul
And someday
I will return home
To reside
Before I finally leave
Berkeley for good
As I die in my homeland
Met My Fate That Date Skeltonic Poem NaPoWrMo Prompt
And last but not least, our (optional) prompt. Because it’s Friday, today I’d like you to relax with the rather silly form called Skeltonic, or tumbling, verse. In this form, there’s no specific number of syllables per line, but each line should be short and should aim to have two or three stressed syllables. And the lines should rhyme. You just rhyme the same sound until you get tired of it, and then move on to another sound. Here’s a short example I came up with.
Met My Fate That Date Skeltonic Poem
I met my fate
That cosmic date
When I first saw my mate
I went to her that date
She walked into my life
Later she became my wife
Howling with the Dancing Moon, PSH
Topic: Moon
If the moon could tap dance…
howing at the moon
(Would it make a sound? What music is it dancing to? Where did it find tap shoes? What effect does it have on you?)
If rivers could wish…
(What would they wish for? Or have they already? Do they ever get tired of being wet? How about when something jumps in, falls in, takes something from them?)
If sunset could tell you…
(A truth beyond the horizon? Is it hard to say goodbye? What does it know that you don’t? How has it tried to tell you?)
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, 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
Cats are Aliens -Writers Digest Animal Poem
black cat
Cats are alien creatures
They are just so weird
So utterly inhuman
In their thoughts
And actions
They must have come
To this world
From another planet
Perhaps they are
The advance team
For the future alien invasion
Cats seem to communicate
Through telepathy
They seem to think
We are their slaves
Perhaps we are
And we do not realize
That they are the master race
Anti-vaxers, anti-maskers and other covid Idiots Poetic Rants
NaPoWrMo Prompt:
Topic: Corona
corona virus
And last but not least, our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a humorous rant. In this poem, you may excoriate to your heart’s content all the things that get on your nerves. Perhaps it’s people who tailgate when driving or don’t put the caps back on pens after they use them. Or the raccoons who get into your garbage cans. For inspiration, perhaps you might look to this list of Shakespearean insults. Or, for all of you who grew up on cartoons from the 1980s, perhaps this compendium of Skeleton’s might provide some insight.
Amid the worst global health pandemic
In over 150 years
The world is filled with COVID idiots
Who denounces any public health measures
Designed to save lives
As an affront to their rights
To do whatever they please
Regardless of the impact
Their bad behavior may have
These COVID idiots
Refuse to wear masks
Refuse to social distance
Refuse to get a Vaccine
Even refuse
to wash their damn hands
They refuse to believe
That COVID is real
Until they or their relatives
End up in the hospital
Fighting for their life
If only these COVID idiots
Had worn a mask
Gotten a vaccine
They would not have become
Yet another COVID Ghost
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20210415 Scars just published a Down in the Dirt issue collection book with material from you!
Hi there from Down in the Dirt – we wanted to let you know that Scars
Publications released a collection book of the January-April 2021 issues
from Down in the Dirt magazine. Since your material (writing/artwork)
APPEARS in these issues, that means your material appears in this issue
collection book, and we wanted to let you know about this brand-new issues
collection book is titled “Excerpts from the Plague Years”!
And you can find this book any time at Scars in MULTIPLE locations. Now it
is linked on the main page at http://scars.tv, and it appears at the top
of the list of choices on the books link (one click away from the main
page, or also directly at http://scars.tv/books/) as well as at the top of
the “CD Books Sale” link (direct link http://scars.tv/sale/) at Scars!
Also, by the end of the business week this week, the database with your
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Links for ordering this collection book appears on all of the links above,
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So check out the Scars Publication links to see what material of yours
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Enjoy the 2021 magazine collection book from Scars Publications and Down in the Dirt magazine, with the January-April 2021 magazine issues titled “Excerpts from the Plague Years”.
The author names in this listing appear as they are listed in magazine issue/books. For writings that appear in issues, the titles of their writing do not appear on this web page, but all of the names are linked to the individual issue/book that actually contains the material.
To know exactly what is included in this collection book, view the listing below. All author entries are listed in this collection book as they are listed in magazine issue/books.
April 30 In Search of America 1975 – Hitch hiking Tales
hitchhikers
When I was young and foolish
Broke and stubborn
I hitchhiked across the USA
Started in Salt Lake City
Where my greyhound bus pass
Was stolen
The station manager
Could have helped me
But refused to do so
Threaten to call the cops
When I grabbed my bags Without the stolen tags
I said
Go ahead
But I am so out of here
Wondered about Salt Lake City
Went to a bar
Found I had to buy my booze
Next door
And they would mix it for me
Had to order food too
After a bloody Mary
And a burger
I walked about town
Saw the Mormon Temple
Finally about 3 pm
It was time to hit the road
Did not look back
Ended up in Cody Wyoming
Got a room shower
Steak beer
Using my rapidly depleted cash Spent 25 dollars
Money really went far
Back in those days
A band of professional
Communist agitators
Gave me a ride
To Des Moines
Lots of weed, booze
And politics later
Got off the road
Slept outside
Next day
A beautiful woman
Drove me to near Chicago
In a red mustang
Might have been
The girl in the song
Took it easy
Digging her vibe
She invited home
But was not sure
If her estranged husband
Would welcome me
So, I am being foolish
And inexperienced with women
Did not go to her place
And always regretted
That I had lost
My chance that day
Then on to Chicago
Several rides later
Visited friends
Hit the road again
A series of uneventful rides
With truckers
And others
And a week later
I ended in New York City
Slept along the way
In cars
In truck stops
In high way rest stops
Always moving
Always going
Non stop talking
And lots of free weed
And beer
And conversation
One more memorable ride
Occurred outside Albany
On my return to Chicago
A middle age creepy looking man
Picked me up
In a brand-new Cadillac
He was he said a dynamite deliverer
For the Mafia
Went to various places
To blow up shit
He hated a lot of people
Particularly hippies from California
And Jewish people
Looking at me to confirm
That I was both
I told him that I lived in New York
And had never been to California
And although I might have looked Jewish
As I what was called back in the day
A “Jewfro”
I was not Jewish
Many years later I discovered
That I am indeed part Jewish
But then I did not know
And I felt a bit of strategic information
Might keep me alive
Then I realized that he was just jiving with me
And we relaxed
And he pulled out some weed
And beer
And we mellowed out
But I believe that he really was with the mob
Perhaps not a dynamite dealer
A real made Italian made mafia member
By Chicago
I had enough
I called my Dad
Told him what had happened
Wanted a ticket home
And he sent me a ticket
And 500 dollars
And I went home
I told him I would tell him
My tales some day
But never did
I learned so much
About my fellow Americans
And the strange vibe
That was 1975
And now it is too late
But I wanted to finally
Tell the world
While reading Charles Bukowski poetry
On the metro ride home
Listening to Buddha bar music
On my oh too hip IPod
I begin to see myself as I was
Over 30 years ago when I was merely a bit player
A minor character in a Charles Bukowski poem
A wild young underemployed intellectual
Hanging out in dismal bars and dives all over Asia and California
Hanging with disreputable women and drunks and drinkers
And characters out of his kinds of haunts
A mad poet bard of the underground
A drunken poet in a drunken bum show
That nightly played in his head
Then one day I met the women of my dreams
And went down a different path
A long slow path to respectability
And now 30 years later
I am no longer a wild man
I am still a poet at heart
But I am now also a bureaucrat
In a button down suite
Doing the people’s business
Working for the Government
I’ve become the Man
Sometimes I wonder
Would I have been better off
Going down that another path
Would I have ended up
Somewhere else
Doing something else
Would I have been as happy
Would I have been as successful?
There is no answer that satisfies
The longing in my heart
For that wild thing
That still lurks beneath
It’s civilized cover
And I know that I am still
A mad poet at heart
Railing against the injustice of the world
As I work day by day in the belly of the great beast of State
I recall the ancient Chinese saying,
“Confucian during the day while Taoist rebel at night”
Playing out in my head and nightly dreams
In the true American Upper class patrician tradition
I close the book and look out the window
Get off the train, and walk slowly home
And realize I had no choice
But to take the path that I’ve trodden on
And so I put aside my misgivings
And say goodbye to my “Bukowskian”desires
For another night of domestic contentment
Was it worth it all to take the conventional path
And not take the bohemian road to hell and back
I look at my wife and realize
I had no choice, had no choice
But to follow her to the ends of the earth
And beyond by her side as we walked our path
Of shared destiny
Goodbye Charles Bukowski wherever you are
May I meet you in a bar in the next life
And figure out where we should have gone
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 sun
Lights up my lonesome room
Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a God damn snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of 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 out side 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 dissipating a bit
And enjoy my second cup
Of heaven and hell
In my morning cup of Joe
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
Day One October 19, 2020 Contemplating The Falling Leaves Of Autumn
Day 2 October 2020 Nightmares Scenes From A Hellish Nightmare
Day 3 October 21, 2020 Maid Laird Strikes Again Tanka (Halloween Challenge Day 3)
Day 4 October 22, 20202 Ghost Poem Corona Ghosts March On WH Demanding Justice
Day 5, October 23, 2020 Ekphrastic Challenge The Grim Reaper Comes For Us
Day 6 October 24, 2020 Pumpkin Patch Great Pumpkin Rises Again
Day 7 October 25., 2020 Haunted House The Haunted House At The End Of The World
Day 8 October 26, 2020– The Door Slammed Loudly I Was Home Alone
Day 9 October 27, 2020 Dark Prophecy-Fascism Comes To America – Halloween Challenge Day 9
Day 10, October 28, 2020 My Mother’s Secrets Conversation With A Ghost -Halloween Contest Day 10 Spooky Conversation
Day 11, October 29, 2020 Costume Halloween Party From Hell
Day 12 October 30, 2020 Halloween Costume Party
Day 13, October 31, 2020 Trick or Treating In The Era Of Covid
Day One October 19, 2020
Contemplating the Falling Leaves of Autumn
Walking the path
In the forest near my house
Every day I see the changing colors
Of the fall season
Always a time for reflection
For contemplation
Thinking about the past
And the future
As I contemplate each step
The vivid colors of the fall
a forecast of the coming winter
peaking about my birthday
contemplation of life
and the path I have taken
looking at the love of my life
fills me joy and laughter
dispelling the moodiness
of the fall season
Day 2 October 2020 Nightmares
Scenes from a Hellish Nightmare
Note: From a real nightmare End Note
I am in a room
Drinking at a party
And smoking weed
Drinking up a storm
20 drinks too sober
Watching people all around me
Change into hideous creatures
Monsters from the deepest depths of hell
Everyone in the room
Has been transformed except me
The Chief of them all
Wears a Trumpian mask
Complete with orange hair
Half-human half pig
His deputy
Wears the face of Putin
But his body
Half-human, half-horse,
The other creatures wear masks
Many of them wear
Green Pepe the alt-right
Symbolic frog masks
And have T-shirts
Bearing alt right slogans
And Nazi symbols
And as they prance about
They chant alt. Right slogans
And neo-Nazi chants
Jews will not replace us
And the rest of these creatures
Are hideous ugly beasts
Apes, cannibals, demons, dwarfs,
Goblins, leprechauns, Imps, monsters, orcs,
Pirates, satyrs, werewolves, Zombies,
With only a vestige of humanity left
And these monsters are engaged
In all sorts of foul evil deeds
Murder violence death
All around ,
And non-stop
violent drug-fueled orgies
As these creatures
Half-human, half-monsters,
Half-male, half-female creatures
The Trumpian Pig leads the charge
Starts engaging in sodomy with Putin
Who chases after people
Cutting off their heads with his sword
They turn on to their fellow creatures
Raping and killing each other
and eating their fellow creatures
All night long
Then they attack me
Screaming
Jews will not replace us
And I wake up
Screaming
As the sun comes up
Just another nightmare
Day 3 October 21, 2020
Maid Laird Strikes Again Tanka (Halloween Challenge Day 3)
walking the Scottish Moors
Sam encounters the mad laird
The mad laird haunting
Stalking the lone hikers
Killing them cut off their heads
Day 4 October 22, 20202 Ghost Poem Corona Ghosts March on WH Demanding Justice
corona
The corona ghosts meet up in Limbo
One million corona ghosts
From all over the world
The corona ghosts are angry
Their voices not heard
Just echoes in the wind
They decide to manifest themselves
To haunt the WH, the congress
The state capitols
The world capitols
In a one day massive
Corona ghost protest
The corona ghosts swarm the WH
Overwhelming the secret service
Demanding to meet the president
He came out
Met with them
General Corona appeared
And the President
Joined the Corona ghosts
In the end
Just another Corona ghost
Day 5, October – 23, 2020 Ekphrastic Challenge
The Grim Reaper comes for us
grimm reaper
Sam Adams knew that his time was up
He knew for he had a forewarning
In his dream, he saw the Grim reaper
Waiting for him
Along highway 666
Beckoning him to join him
On the back of his cursed Harley
To ride down the highway to hell
Sam got up
Got his will updated
Looked at his wife
One last time
Prayed to the gods
All of them
To send him to the other place
Rather that the hell
That the grim reaper
Had promised him
There was a knock on the door
A telegram had arrived
It said
Your appointment for judgment
Is today
You may end up in the other place
Be prepared and be afraid
Your ride arrives at midnight
At midnight
The grim reaper
Dressed in black leather
Arrived on his cursed Harley
Said your ride awaits
Fortunate one
We are going to limbo
Where you will wait
With the others
To hear your fate
And away they went
Down the celestial highway
Bypassing highway 666
Exiting in limbo
He walked into a huge hallway
Thousands of people milling around
He looked up at the signs
Welcome to Limbo
No talking
No smoking
No phone usage – no reception anyway
Wait your turn
For your judgment date
The hour is late
But you will learn your fate
On this your cosmic judgment date
His number is called
He walks up
The angel bureaucrat
Dressed in a Mr. Smith black suit
Holds a hand-held computer
His life flashes on the screen
65 years condensed
Into a one minute video
An amber light flashes
The bureaucrat reads the judgment
Mr. Sam Adams
You are given five more years
Get your act together
Do good deeds
When you come back
You will face one last judgment
He walks outside
A taxi awaits
Takes him home
He wakes up
Drinks coffee with his wife
And the day resumes
Day 6 October 24, 2020 Pumpkin Patch –
Great Pumpkin Rising again
great pumpkin
Lonely Linus sits in his pumpkin patch
With snoopy his faithful delusional dog
Waiting for the Great Pumpkin
An annual ritual
Only Linus knows
That the Great Pumpkin exists
No one else knows
No one else cares
Linus prepares for another night
Then the great pumpkin arises
A ghostly spirit
Comes out of the moonlight
Who dare calls me
The great pumpkin demands
Who is ready to die?
It is I, Linus, your biggest supporter
Tell me oh Great Pumpkin
What is your wish?
The great pumpkin growls
Tell your folks to vote
Time for the orange man to meet his doom
The great pumpkin laughs
His visage appears
On the TV networks
The great pumpkin demands
President Trump
Time to meet your maker
And dispatches General Corona
To finish the job
Linus is given his heart’s desires
To become a great man
Lord of all he surveys
With Snoopy by his side
The great pumpkin smiles
Giving a ride to Linus who rides into the future ,
On the back of the great pumpkin
Day 7 October 25., 2020 Haunted House
The Haunted House at the End of the World
There is an old long-abandoned ruined house
On the edge of a forest in the hills,
About an hour out of the town of Medford
Overlooking the Rogue River valley
The house was once a mansion
But over time it became semi-ruined
The old man who lived there
Became a hermit seldom going out
No one really knew him
He kept to himself
Then one day
General corona came for a visit
The old man became nothing
But another corona ghost
The house continued standing looking out
On the hill overlooking the valley
Now filled with corona ghosts
As General Corona wiped out,
The entire valley of all humanity
Day 8 October 26, 2020– The Door Slammed Loudly I Was Home Alone
I was all alone
Watching the morning news
Filled with omens, Dangerous thoughts, Nightmarish reality, A thousand people a day dying, Fires burning, Storms churning, Black lives dying, Protestors clashing
Election day looming, End of the world feelings
The door slammed loudly
I yell out
Who’s there
Nothing but corona ghosts
Crying in the wind
Day 9 October 27, 2020 Dark Prophecy-Fascism Comes to America – Halloween Challenge Day 9
Back in 2016 when I was traveling
Across the country with my wife
I had a series of darkly prophetic dreams
I dreamt that Donald Trump would be elected
And usher in a slide towards fascism
And unfortunately, I was right
So, what are my dreams telling me now
What are my prophetic nightmares
Will they come true again?
I dream that Donald Trump was anointed
By the Supreme Court which ruled
That given the potential for fraud
All mail in ballots would be tossed aside
And Donald Trump who had lost the popular vote
Once again won in the electoral college
He vowed retribution against his enemies
The fake media and the millions of people
Who dared to vote against him
He called upon his supporters
To go forth and rough up
Fuck up as he put it
Liberals and anti-Americans
Declared martial law
Protests would be illegal
The military would enforce the decree
And they did sending troops across the land
Declared that the democratic party
Was anti-American
And he would not allow them
To serve in Congress, or the Senate
The SC refused to rule against him
Thus fascism came to America
And my dark prophecy came true
Day 10, October 28, 2020 My Mother’s Secrets Conversation With A Ghost -Halloween Contest Day 10 Spooky Conversation
My mother died in 2007
We buried her in Berkeley
Near her house
Whenever I am in the area
I drop by
And talk with her
Imaging she is there
One day when I dropped by
I asked her about
Many things in her past
For she took so many secrets
With her to her grave
So Mary, quite contrary
Tell me the truth now
Tell me about your past life
Tell me your secrets
I heard a voice
Crying out in the wind
John John John
Do you want to really know
My secrets?
I responded
Yes I do
She whispered them to me
But made me vow
To keep her secrets
And take them to my grave
And so I can not
Must not reveal
All the shocking stories
Of her life
She told me that I needed
To also talk to my father
For he too had secrets
To tell me
I told her
That I would at some point
Make a visit
To the family grave
In Yakima
And finally learn
The family secrets
They should have told me
While they were alive
Day 11, October 29, 2020
Halloween Poem Costumes from Hell
artoon-devil-satan-businessman-suit-450w
I am at a Halloween party
Everyone is wearing a costume
Including me
I am dressed like an ancient King
My wife is dressed as the angel she is
The party turns wild
Everyone is getting high
Drinking up a storm
Smoking weed
Snorting coke
Dropping acid
The music is wild and crazy
Then through the fog of it all
I see the devil
Parading in front of the crowd
Screaming death
To all democrats
Trump and Putin appear together
Running into the crowds
The crowd chatting lock him up
Lock him up
Biden is paraded in front
Of the blood thirsty crowd
The devil yells off with his head
Putin and Trump
Behead him
Screaming like escaped banshees
I try to wake up from this nightmare
Realizing it is all live
On CNN
And I am dead
The world has ended
Evil has triumphed
Once again
Day 12 Halloween Costume Party
I am at a Halloween costume party
Dressed like an ancient laird
Angela is dressed in a red devil custom
And we are having a good time
Everyone is getting wild
And frisky
Soon the mood turns dark
And foul
Bad craziness fills the room
The devil makes his appearance
And we realize
We are all doomed
To end our life
At this party
Where we all become
Children of the damn
Day 13, October 31, 2020 Trick or Treating In The Era Of Covid
Halloween in the era of covid
So strange
With the covid virus
Ever lurking
With CDC discouraging trick or tweeting
With masks on every face
Everyone wearing a costume
The trick is not to get sick
The treat is still the candy
The goal of all children
Everywhere
Candy more candy
Visits to the dentist be damned
Hopefully General Corona
Will keep his troops at bay
Bonus Poems
vault 56 words pensively 101 prompt
I have a secret vault in my mind
It is a dark corner of my soul
Where I hide away
All the dark dangerous thoughts
That come out
4 am 0 dark hundred
When the wild things
Escape their leashes
Screaming like escaped banshees
Then with the dawning light
I put them back into the vault
Corona Mask
My corona mask
Hiding my face behind it
Hiding my fears
My wife removing the mask
Seeing my lovely face
Fifty word prose horror poems published in Every Writer
The Mad Laird Strikes Again
Sam Adams is doing a Scottish walkabout. There were rumors of a mad laird killing hikers along the lonely moors. He heard bagpipes in the fog then saw a man on a black horse who ran after him with a machete, screaming, “Do you believe in Ghosts now? “
The Mad Bagpiper of Berkeley
Sam Adams had heard rumors of a mad bagpiper serial killer lurking about Tilden park in Berkeley. Then he ran into the mad bagpiper in the lonely backcountry. The man ran after him, killing him with a machete. They found his body cut up and cooked by a camp-fire.
General Corona Got Your Baby
The mad General Corona, riding his black horse came out of the woods, and screamed at Sam Adams, saying “You got the Corona Virus; I am the general. Your ass is grass and I am the lawnmower.” Prepare to die a long painful death and he breathed on him.
Waiting for the Grim Reaper
Sam Adams found himself in Limbo. Waiting for his appointment with the Grim Reaper. Finally, his number was called. The Grim Reaper said his number was up and it was time for judgment day. “Whether it would be hell or heaven was beyond his pay grade”. The Grim reaper laughed.
Wild Things Run Amuck
0 dark hundred arrives. Insomnia set in. Sam Adams tossed and turned waiting for the wild things to come out for their nightly assault. Evil monstrous creatures from the darkest corner of his hell ran about screaming at him: torturing him until the dawning sun drove them back to hell.
Screaming News Drives Me Mad
Sam Adams fell asleep after watching the screaming media scream about the fires, storms, covid, political madness. Sam saw the devil programming madness on his computers. The devil, surrounded by the demons, orcs, dwarfs and monsters of hell, turns to him smiling, saying his time in hell would come soon.
Corona Horror Haiku
The Mad Laird Strikes Again
1
In the Scottish Moors
mad laird waits to kill hikers
death waiting for you
2
hearing the bagpipes
old man appears in the fog
riding a black horse
3
Mad laird runs at you
Holding a black machete,
screaming “Do you believe in Ghosts
The Mad Bagpiper of Berkeley
1
In the Berkeley Hills
Rumors of mad bagpiper
Fears and terror
2
Encountering it
the mad bagpiper in the hills
they found his body
3
The mad bagpiper
Plays mournful tune as kills
As you become ghost
General Corona Got Your Baby
1
The mad General
Corona riding black horse
Leading his army of bots
2
Encountering his breath
You begin to scream
as you cough dying breath
Waiting for the Grim Reaper
1
Wake up in Limbo.
Waiting for his appointment
with the Grim Reaper.
2
Finally his number
The Grim Reaper said number was up
tt was the time for judgement day. “
3.
Whether it would be
hell or heaven beyond his paygrade
The Grim reaper laughed.
Wild Things Run Amuck
1
At 0 dark hundred.
Deep Insomnia set in.
Tossing and turning
2
waiting for wild things
to come out for their assault.
Evil monstrous creatures
3
from the dark corner
of hell ran about screaming
torturing his soul
4
the dawning sun light
drove them all back to their hell.
Wild things fading
Screaming News Drives Me Mad
1
Then I fell asleep
after watching the screaming news
the media screams
2
about the fires,
storms corona ,
the political madness.
3
I saw the devil
programing all the madness
on his computers.
4
The devil saw me,
surrounded by all the demons,
says my time is soon
Horror Cheritas
The Mad Laird Strikes Again
Sam Adams is doing a Scottish walk about.
There were rumors of a mad laird
killing hikers along the lonely moors.
He heard bagpipes in the fog
then saw a man on a black horse who ran after him with a machete,
screaming “Do you believe in Ghosts now? “
The Mad Bagpiper of Berkeley
Sam Adams had heard rumors
of a mad bagpiper serial killer
lurking about Tilden Park in Berkeley.
Then he ran into the mad bagpiper in the lonely back country.
The man ran after him killing him with a machete.
They found his body cooked by a camp-fire.
General Corona Got Your Baby
The mad General Corona, riding his black horse came out of the woods,
and screamed at Sam Adams, saying “
You got the Corona Virus; I am the general.
Your ass is grass and I am the lawn mower.”
Prepare to die a long painful death
and he breathed on him.
Waiting for the Grim Reaper
Sam Adams found himself in Limbo.
Waiting for his appointment
with the Grim Reaper.
Finally his number was called.
The Grim Reaper said His number was up and it was time for judgement day. “
The grim reaper laughed Whether it would be hell or heaven was beyond his pay grade
Wild Things Run Amuck
0 dark hundred arrives.
Insomnia set in.
Sam Adams tossed and turned
waiting for the wild things to come out for their nightly assault.
Evil monstrous creatures from the darkest corner of his hell ran about screaming at him:
torturing him until the dawning sun drove them back to hell.
Screaming News Drives Me Mad
Sam Adams fell asleep after watching the screaming media
scream about the fires, storms, covid, political madness.
Sam saw the devil programming madness on his computers.
The devil, surrounded by the demons, orcs, dwarfs, and monsters of hell,
turns to him smiling,
saying his time in hell would come soon.
The gorgon of Bangkok
Sam Adams
Was drinking alone
In a evil degraded bar
On the bad side of life
In the city of Angels
Bangkok
Twenty drinks too sober
Drinking by himself
With his buddies
Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, Johnny Walker
Evan Walker, Mr. Bullet, Old Granddad
Ordering one scotch, one bourbon, and a beer
From the lovely half-naked bartender
He looks up at the stage
Dancing on the stage
Was a naked vision of delight
As he looked at her
She began to turn into a hideous monstrous figure
Two-three faces appeared at once
The naked bartender had warned him
That the gorgon of Bangkok
Would be dancing tonight
All men desired her
And if she chose you
You would die a thousand deaths
Of erotic pleasure
As she took your soul away
Straight to hell
Sam thought to himself
Why the hell not
I am drinking my way to hell anyway
And continued to stare
At the gorgon
She smiled
And had her way with him
He left with her
Went to her room
She took off the clothes
He found himself naked in hell
Where the devil welcomes him
Saying have another drink, my friend
Welcome to hell the party center
Of the universe
He drank and partied all night
With the gorgon of Bangkok
Waking up dead
Just another dead male foreigner
In the city of angels
Love Poems
Okinawa Poems
Snarling Cup of Coffee
10 recent Poems
Gun Poems
April Poems
Cosmic Dreams
True Love Story
Howling at the Moon
Hell is Here to Stay
Fake Things
I hope to self publish some poetry on their site as well and will update this post when I do so. Stay tune.
I am a big fan of Haiku, Tanka, and other short poetical forms inspired by the Japanese and others. here are some of my short poems. Some have been published, most have not.
Nothing but love in my heart
Waiting for me to say it
And for you to believe it
In the beginning of the world
In the beginning of the world
I saw you there
Walking off that bus
And that was the beginning
Of my life with you
And the end of the rest of the world
Love Cherita -I Married the Girl of My Dreams
I married the girl of my dreams
First dreamt of her
Back in 1974
Eight years later
she walked off a bus
and into my life
It All Began in Berkeley, California
It All Began in Berkeley, California
in the spring time of 1974
one fateful afternoon
I was nodding off
in my high school physics class
And saw her in my dream
I Looked Up
I looked up
and saw a tall, beautiful Asian woman
standing looking at me
She was the most beautiful women
in the universe to me
I screamed out, who are you?
She Disappeared
She Disappeared
like she was beamed
away from my dream
I knew that moment that someday
I would meet the girl
In the dream
Little Did I Know
Little Did I Know
I would have to wait
eight long years
Until 1982
to meet her in reality
when she walked off that bus
Starting that month
Starting that month
I began having the same dream
Month and month and month
Always the Same Dream
She was saying something
in a strange language
Then one day
then one day
I had the dream
and knew that she was in Korea
I Knew She Was Waiting for Me
I chose to go Korea
In the Peace Corps
Somehow knowing
somehow knowing
That I would meet her there
and I looked for her there
for three years
I looked everywhere
and never found her
One Day I Had the Last Dream
One day I had the last dream
It happened in the morning
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
That morning early in the morning
I had the last of these dreams
This time I understood her
She said,
“걱정 마. 우리는 곧 만날 것이다. ”
“geogjeongma. ulineun god mannal geos-ida.
“Don’t worry. We’ll meet soon.”
I Was Born Again That evening
I Was Born Again 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 was speechless
I did not know what to do
Wanted to tell her
How could I tell her that
Hey, you are the girl
I have been dreaming about
Over the Course of the Evening
Over the course of 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.
My New Life Began the Next Day
My new life began the next day
The next day she came to the gate
Of my base where I was teaching
She said that she had to speak with me
I told to wait in the library
for about an hour
I Would Cancel Class
I would cancel 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 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
But I Know That There Are Other Worlds
In a past life we must have been together
somehow our love was so strong
That it crossed over
the barrier of past lives
finding me in this life
She found me in 1974
She Found Me In 1974
But it took until 1982
For us to actually meet
And it has been 35 years
Since we met in the physical sphere
Or 43 years since the dream began
And I still recall the dream
and I still recall the dream
I had no choice
when I met her
we were fated
to be together
until the end of time
End Dream Cherita
Morning Delight
Every morning
When I wake up
And see your face
The sunlight of your love
Fills my heart with deep contentment
And all is right with the world
Best Love Cinquain
Best Love
Love at First Sight
Met the girl of my dreams
My life began
that autumn day
True Dreams
I had a dream
Meet the Girl of my Dreams
She walked off that bus that day
Truth
Truth
True story
Love never ends
Love at First Sight Love
First Love
First Love
First time we kissed
Hot Electricity
Filled my soul with desire
Time stopped
Time
Time
Began
That fine day
Never Ending Love story
First Kiss
They say you always
remember forever
the first kiss of your life
it happened to me
back in 1967
In Washington DC
the first time
I kissed a sweet girl
I was eleven years in age
It happened in a class project
We were inside a fake space ship
And shared a French kiss
Kissing Angela in the Bar
My first kiss
With my lovely wife
Occurred in evil Itaewon
We went to a bar and drank a lot
Started kissing asked to leave the bar
Angela Cherita
I have dreamt of you
For almost seven long years
And now you are here
What can I do about this
Only thing to do love you
Until the End of Time
Thank to all the gods
For bringing you in my life
I will love you
For we are fated
to be together
From now to the end of time
Angela Haiku
Every day I wake up
To the love of my long life
And say Thanks to God
63 Years Young with You
I am 63 years young
63 years around the sun
37 of those years
I have spent
With my Dream Girl
the love of my life
63 years Around the Sun
63 Years around the sun
taught me a few things
life is too short
to carry a grudge
live your Life
Love a lot
Another Love Cinquain
My Love
Haunting my dreams
endlessly talking to me
Then walked out of the dreams
into my Life
Haiku Thinking of You
Thinking of you, dear
Wondering if you are too
Thinking of me too
Every Day I Wake Up
Every day I wake up
I see my fate in her face
Fall into her spell
Met My Fate
I met my late fate
Seeing her face in a bar
Met fate That Date
Published Hello
impossible Dreams
(audio for impossible Dreams, impossible dreams 2, life is but a dream and I married the girl of my Dreams)
impossible dreams sometimes they do come to life sometimes come true
Impossible Dreams 2
Impossible dreams
I have had a few come true
Dreamt of meeting wife
And in my dream life
She walked out of my dreaming
Night time vision came true
Life is but a Dream
Life is But a Dream
That is what they say my dear
And I have lived dreams
Dreaming of meeting her
Then she walks out of the dream
And into my arms
Married the Girl of My
Dreams
true love romance story
I married the girl of my Dreams
First dreamt of her
back in 1974
Eight years later
She walked off a bus
and into my life
Skinny Valentines
Every day
All
Around
Me
I
See
Broken
Hearted
Woman
Every lover
Faces
Faces of all of my ex-lovers
All around me
Coming at me
Everywhere I look
Seeing my wife’s face in the sky
Shape of Sex
Sexual desires
Have a strange way about them
Arriving unannounced
Perhaps overwhelming at times
Erupting out of nowhere
Seriously disrupting my day’s plan
GLOW
Glowing light of the dawning sun
Lights up my dismal room
Overwhelming me with love
Watching my dream girl sleep
Angela (Acrostic poem for Whispers)
Angela is my life
No better friend in the universe
Greatest Love of all
Every Day I thank God
Love of my life
Angela My Soul Mate
Love of my long life
Everything I ever desires
Everything I ever needed
On Top of the World
on top of the world
looking down
on all of creation
beneath my feet
Thinking
what a wonderful world
this is
as long as I have you
by my side
There is nothing more to be said
There is nothing more to be said
Nothing more I can add
Nothing more than this
I will love you
Until the end of time itself
and death does us part
A Message for You
A message for you
Love comes with the sunrise
a message from God himself
from the universe itself
in the eastern sea
Showering love rainbows upon you
Love Endures
Love Endures
the longer I live
the more I learn
that nothing endures in life
other than the love
I share with you
Success
In 62 years around the sun
I have learned a few things
About life and the universe
The most important thing in life
Is to have a successful love life
That is all one needs after all
Spring Doositsu
Waking up seeing you there
Watching you as you wake up
Fills me with such sweet desire
Overcoming my mind
I sit watching you all day
Thinking of you all day long
Wild erotic imaginings
Love making to come
That old blues song come to mind
I just want to make love to you
I just want to make love to you
Nothing more than that that
I end this morning with this thought
You are still the most wonderful
The most beautiful creature
In the whole universe
Love Triclinia
One Summer Day
I saw a rose on the bus
I met my fate
Angela Fills Me with Red Passion
angela
the love of my life
came to me out of a dream
walked off a bus into my life
filling my life
with red passion
Thanks Haiku
Every morning
I wake up alive with you
I give thanks to the Gods
Love Hexastich
love
for you
dreaming
of you
for years
until you walked
into my life
Love Sestet
you walked out of my dreams
into my life that day
the day that changed my life
when you became my wife
and filled my life with love
that date I met true love
Everything I Could Ever Dream
Love
My Dove
my dream girl
like a white pearl
she appeared to me
everything she could be
My love came to me in a dream
she was everything I could dream
Dreaming of You
dreaming
of my love
she came in a dream
Haunting me for eight years
then she walked out of my dreams
“What Dreams May Come “ from the Movie
Meeting You
I often think
what would I do
If I could go back
and change my past
the one thing I would still do
is meeting you
8 Years of Dreams
Dreaming her eight years
one day she really appeared
walked off a bus and into life
There is always one more time
There is always one more time
There is always a second chance
For love and happiness
In this dark world of ours
We will find each other
Til the end of time itself
Best Friend for 55 years
I have known Robert S since the first grade
over 55 years sharing life’s journeys
introduced me to demon rum and weed
Was there when I dreamt of my wife
and there during my 14 operations
My Memory Bank
Matt and I met in Latin class
in the 9th grade
he managed my first election
as BHS president
He knows most of my secrets
and reminds me of my past misdeeds
keeping me humble and alive
Best Friend in the Universe
I met my best friend, my soul mate
in a dream in high school
eight years later she walked off a bus
and entered my life 35 years ago
Still, my best friend I ever had
Published in “Whispers”
Part Two Pain Poems
Fake Pain Haiku version
Fibromyalgia
I have fake pain all day long
Don’t know if it is real
Magazine Bonsai Haiku
Living with Pain Hanibun
Back in 1996 I had the accident that changed everything.I went jogging one morning. It was dark outside, and I thought that I knew the trail. I fell down a ledge hidden where the trail should have been. I shattered me heal in a million pieces. I was rushed to an ER and told that I needed n emergency operation and would be bed ridden for four months. My wife was in San Antonio at the time serving in the Army, I was in DC working for the State Department. I flew in a wheel chair to San Antonio where they proclaimed that they had to wait a week for the swelling to go down before they could operate. The Air force doctors wanted to try a new procedure – using shark cartridge as a bone supplement. The operation was a success until I quit taking antibiotics six months later. I was in DC by myself then. I went to the hospital for an unrelated thing -removal of a cist I think. But the doctors took one look at me and proclaimed that the staph had become a multiple drug resistant staph and I needed an urgent operation. The next day I had the third of 15 operations. I endured six months at Walter Reed hospital but that was in the 90’s prior to the wars of the 21st century filled the base up. They had few customers and I got to know the doctors well
I know pain
Intimately aware of every ache
Every pain
Ever since that day
When I went under the knife
And had the 14 operations
That saved my life
But I am not one to complain
I became one with the pain
Which I endure to this day
Knowing that I am alive
Having cheated death
Twenty times in life
Waiting for the grim reaper
To finally claim me
But that day has not come
And until the, I will endure.
Hiking the Hills of My Youth
I grew up in Berkeley, California in the 60’s Ever since I was a youngster I would wander the hills of Berkeley hiking for hours by myself and sometimes with my friends
I explored every nook and cranny every corner of the hills and got to know nature in its infinite beauty
Ever since those days I have longed for the day that I could spend my days hiking and wondering the hills
Now that I am retired and living in Korea I can go for a long walk in the hills every day I want
It is not the same as the hills I grew up, no vistas of the Bay and it is in Korea to boot but most days it is sufficient as I head out early afternoon and conquer four or five miles of hills just enjoying that fact that I can still move and am still very much alive at age 62.
I grew up hiking the hills of Berkeley, California
Grew up knowing every corner of the hills
And the infinite beauty of the Bay Area
And now I find myself in a strange land
With time on my hands
I wander the hills above the airport
In Incheon Korea
And wander about here
and there Just being grateful
That I am still alive
And kicking at age 62
Coffee Poems
Coffee Haiku
cup of coffee
I like my coffee
Like my women hot
as hell and Heaven
coffee drink of the gods
7-2-coffee-
coffee drink of the gods
also drink of the dogs
satan
Coffee Madness
coffee
every morning coffee madness
consumes me and overwhelms me
one day coffee madness
More Coffee
too much coffee
More coffee
must have more
it consumes me
just need one more
Darker Poems
Nuclear War Looms
nuclear war looms
North Korea U.S. Launch Nukes
End of the world
Zombies Apocalypse
audio clip includes Zombie poems, and Evil Fog
the zombies unleashed
killing everyone they see
zombie apocalypse
Zombies to the right of me
Mature Couple being attacked in their car by a hoard of zombies.
Zombies to the right of me
Zombies to the left of me
Zombies run amuck
Evil Fog
evil fog descends
killing everyone at once
end of life on earth
Ghosts in Scotland
While touring Scotland
Meeting Ghosts in the wild moors
I believe in ghosts
The Future of NYC
NYC
In the distant future
the world will end
with a massive flood
and NYC will slowly sink
beneath the waves
and humanity will die
Fear of Falling While Sleeping
I am consumed
with the fear of falling
out of bed
onto the ground
dying in my sleep
Life is a Dream of Chocolate Covered Trees
Life is a dream
of chocolate covered trees
for to see what can’t be seen
for to hear what can’t be heard
to see what can’t be seen
to live in oder to die
and to die in order to live
Note: oldest poem written when I was 16! in 1972
Spirits
Satanic spirits all around me
Particularly late at night
In the middle of the night
Rapidly erupting everywhere
Infesting my very being
Taking over my very soul
Satanic demons of the night
Freaky
Freaky sounds fill the air
Radio is on playing the music of the dead
Everywhere I hear the music of my doom
All around me I see my fate approaching me
Keeping me awake with cosmic dread
Yes the end time approaches
Scorpion Nights of Passion
Born in October
Scorpion Passionate fool
Always taking the lead
consumed with dark desires
is this Scorpio buddha nature
consumed with dark desires
Looking at the Hidden Machinery of God
One day
I woke up
and found myself
in God’s hidden factory
watching the machinery of God
running the world
and realized
that God was indeed
the chief engineer of the universe
as I watched the machinery
of creation
creating the world anew
every morning
Endless Noises on TV
endless noise on TV
quiet on the path outside
peace in my soul
Dangerous Times Tanka
In dangerous times
we retreat to our corners
convinced we are right
everyone else is evil
everyone else must die
Dream What May Come
Dream what may come
Recalling past lives lived
Every fantasy comes to life
All night long
More nightmares to come
So many worlds to explore
Fate
Fate has a way
Always catching up
embrace your fate
on this date
Fate Endlessly dancing away
that is what’s up
at the end of the date
Solage Poems
Darkness consumes Me
Love Madness consumes me
whatever will be will be
love
Dreaming Dark Dreams
Dreaming Dark dreams
wondering what will become of me
death
War Rumors of War
war rumors of war
spreading everywhere war
destruction
Are These the End of Time
are these the end of time
biblical prophecies
Hell
Florette Poems
Twenty Twenty
twenty twenty
feared by many
reasons plenty
feared by many
the end times are coming
These Strange Visions
these strange visions
nightmare visions
nightmarishly real
or is this just my fate
to have visions galore
howling at the Moon Florette
howling at the moon
the mad full moon
filled with madness
screaming like an escaped banshee
pure madness
I See the Moon Florette
I see the blood red super blue moon
smiling full moon
the blood red super blue full moon shines
providing mad signs
deep in mountains
filled with thoughts of the moon
howling
The Evil Moon Florette
the evil blue super full moon
blood red blue moon
terrifies me
I run consumed with hot mad desires
mad moon cries out
Nature Poems
Walking on the Path
walking on the path
in the world peace forest
snowing cherry trees
the World at Peace
the world at peace
walking with love of my life
all is right with me
Falling Cherry Trees
the falling cherry trees
along the path of the forest
reminds us of love
Two Cats
two cats walking by
one black one one yellow one
both alien creatures
Birds Flying Away
Watching the black birds
birds flying away
fleeing the wild cats about
The World Peace Forrest
the world peace forrest
passes by my apartment
every day I walk it
Deer in the Park
I seldom see the deer
that live in the park near me
they are just too shy
Never Saw the Wild Pig
I never saw the wild pig
the Pig that lives in the woods
just heard him oinking
Korean Charcoal Saunas
korean charcoal
saunas are amazing
cure for everything
Walking In Snow
walking in snow
on a cold night
winter old friend
the world becomes so cold
Contended Pigs
Contended Pigs
Increasing food costs
Piles of rotten garbage
Spring Time In Seoul
Springtime In Seoul
full of promised weather
chase away winter
At the Center
at the center of
all of reality
a flower blossoms
Australia and California Burning Bright
Australia and California
burning bright wildfires
end of the world
an apocalyptic
a vision of world’s end
26 Alphabetical Haiku
Angela
The Love of My Life
A is for Angela Lee
Love her Forever
Breathing
B is for breathing
Sometimes I forget to do so
And will pay the price
Charlie
C is for Charlie
All the Charlies in the world
Every last one of them
Demel
D is for my Friend
Demel Tucker was his name
He died way too soon
Evergreen
E is for ever green
The Eucalyptus. trees
That cover the East Bay
Friendship
F is for friendship
All my friends in the world
I remember you
Golf
G is for golfing
Sometime I never could do
But always wanted
Hotels
H is for Hotels
The best and the worst everywhere
Here there and in SF
Indians
I is for Indians
Indian and American
And the Cherokees
Japan
J is for Japan
Japanese Food and Sake
Hot Sake tonight
Korean
Best Korean Food
K is for Korea
Soju Malkali
Latin
L is for Latin
The language I struggle with
Latina lovers
Mothers
M for your mama
My crazy Mother as well
Everyone’s mothers
Never
N is for never
Ever ever use the N Word
Even amongst friends
Ohio
O for Ohio
Oklahoma City too
And Oregon
Pennsylvania
Pennsylvania
Pittsburg and Phillie Cheese Steaks
True Decadence
Russia
R for Russia
The Russian gate
Scandal de jour
Queens
Q is for my Queens
My best LGBT friends
Where ever they live
Satanic
S for Satanic
I don’t believe you exist
Powers and spells
Turkey
T is for Turkey
The country and bird
The Thanksgiving feasts
Unwary
U is unwary
So Unfriendly
So very un-cool
Victory
V is for victory
V is for vegan veggies
Very green smoothies
Whatever
Whatever will be
Whoever you want to be
Whateveryou want
X Files
X marks the spot here
Burried treasures and loot
Or just mad dreams
Yes
Y is for saying Yes
Yes to everything under the sun
And throughout the night
Zoo
Z is for the show Zoo
Still haunts my every night mare
The animals kill
Computer Haiku
evil_computer_is_evil_by_insanefangirl_
Damn It All to Hell
Damn it all to Hell
My damn computer
Ate all my damn files
I am Trapped
I am still trapped
I am still trapped
Stuck inside my computer
My Damn Computer
I love my computer
My Damn Computer
When it works for me
Computer On Strike
My computer is on strike
It refuses to work
Usually nothing
Computer Hates Me
Computer hates me
He wants to kill my files
Wants to kill me too
Computer Hates Me 2
Computer hates me
It wants to drive me insane
Wants to kill my files
For once I Would Like
For once I would Like
To have my computer work right
Do what is should do
Perhaps if I Am Nice
Perhaps if I am nice
To my computer
It will be nice to me
Perhaps Today It Will
Perhaps today it will
Not give haiku messages
That it loves to sprout
My Bad Computer
My bad computer
Is so damn evil
Almost killed me
What a Fate I Have
What a Fate I have
To become a slave to it
To my damn computer
I Love My Machine
I love my machine
My mad as a hat machine
Bat shit crazy machine
My dear computer
My dear computer
Loves to send me these love notes
Computer haiku
My favorite Haiku
My favorite Haiku
General failure reading
Disk Drive Fata Error
Who is General Failure
who is general
Failure and why is he
reading my disk drive
Computer Tanka
For once in my life
I would like my computer
To turn on and work
Do what it supposed to do
Without sprouting such haiku
I hate my computer
I hate my computer
It seems to hate me as well
Just refuses to work
Ornery son of a bitch machine
ornery machine
Ornery son of a bitch machine
Driving me insane
My computer loves Me Not at All
My computer loves
me not at all it still wants
to kill my files
It wants to take my soul away
turn me into its evil clone
My bad computer
My bad computer
Has been infected with a virus
Wants to kill my soul
Transforming consuming
Taking me inside its soul
My mad computer
Infected with a virus
Everything it touches
Corrupted by mad zombies
Controlled by evil AI
Revenge is mine
Revenge is mine
Screams the mad evil machine
As it lurks to life
Trying to hunt me down
Death to all human beings
End Computer Haiku
I Want a Dog’s Life</h2 > I want a dog’s life
That’s what I want in next life
All A dog needs to be is cute
And his master will feed him
It is a dog’s life for me
Nightmare Cinquain
Night mares
Endless fears all night long
Can’t escape running from these dreams
All night
more Night mares
Endless fears all night long
Huge Monsters chasing me
Hideous Creatures from Hell Itself
Monsters
Fiendish Hell hounds escaped Banishes
screaming bloody murder
they chase me all the way
I die
Christmas Ronka
December End of the Year
The blues knocking at my door
I open the door to winter
Arctic blast freezes my cold face
Secrets
Secrets
Everywhere
Constant lies and deceit
Revolution in the air
Everywhere
All around us
There is nothing but
Secrets
Lion Desires
lion
Lion
Wild Beast
In
Dark jungle
Finally emerging to hunt
At dawn
Hungry
For breakfast
Human-meat
looking at the hidden machinery of God
One day
I woke up
and found myself
in God’s hidden factory
watching the machinery of God
running the world
and realized
that God was indeed
the chief engineer of the universe
as I watched the machinery
of creation
creating the world anew
every morning
Jake’s Golden Shovel
A sense of cosmic unease hangs
coming over all of us silently
hanging in the purple
air that has turned crystalline
reflecting my moods in the sky
Political Rants
The Impeachment Trial
The Impeachment Trial
overwhelms me with dread
are we near the end
Recently I Learned That I am Part Jewish
Recently I learned that I was part Jewish
That was long rumored in our family tree
Never confirmed until DNA came again
But whether my Jewish ancestors lived
Or died in the holocaust I have not heard
Never again will we live through that pain
Neo Fascism Must Be Defeated Again
US President Donald Trump speaks about 5G network deployment in the Roosevelt Room of the White House in Washington, DC, on April 12, 2019. (Photo by NICHOLAS KAMM / AFP) (Photo credit should read NICHOLAS KAMM/AFP/Getty Images)
In this day and age of fake news
And neo fascism rising yet again
It is important to bear witness
To the undeniable fact
That the holocaust
can never ever come again
That is what we must vow every day
Never again
The Neo-Fascists Are On the March
By their champion the man in Orange
Whose racist mutterings have let loose
The ranting nutty voices of the right
Championing their god given right
To rule and regulate all
that they see
Panic
Panic attacks
comes over come me
always happen
when I turn on the news
in case
I hear our dear leader
constant chaos around us
Trump
The President of the United States
Republican Leader of the Free world
Uber ales nations
Muttering insanities
Preposterous Nonsensical tweets
Putin
Post Modern Leader
Uniting all the Russians
Triumphant against all enemies
Including the Great Satan
Nevertheless always living in fear
Where is my home? Where do I belong?
I really don’t know, always moving on to another place
Moved every other year it seems the last 45 years
Traveled to 49 states, 45 countries, drove across the U.S. six times
Lived in Berkeley, Yakima, Stockton, Seattle, Alexandria, DC, Oregon, Korea, Thailand, India, The Eastern Caribbean, and Spain
Where do I belong? Where is my home?
Neither here nor there, nowhere and everywhere
And so is that my rambling man’s fate
Never to really belong anywhere at all
Dark Dangerous Thoughts
dark dangerous thoughts
An old man wakes up
Confronting the dark dangerous thoughts
The demons of the night
That haunt his dreams
And his life
He looks out at the dawning sun
And his sleeping wife
And realizes that it will be all right
And dismisses the demons of the night
Back to their caves in his mind
And he gets up
To take the dawning day
In Search of America
Hitchhiking Tales
hitch hikers
When I was young and foolish
Broke and stubborn
I hitchhiked across the USA
Started in Salt Lake City
Where my greyhound bus pass
Was stolen
The station manager
Could have helped me
But refused to do so
Threaten to call the cops
When I grabbed my bags
Without the stolen tags
I said
Go ahead
But I am so out of here
Wondered about Salt Lake City
Went to a bar
Found I had to buy my booze
Next door
And they would mix it for me
Had to order food too
After a bloody Mary
And a burger
I walked about town
Saw the Mormon Temple
Finally about 3 pm
It was time to hit the road
Did not look back
Ended up in Cody Wyoming
Got a room shower
Steak beer
Using my rapidly depleted cash
Spent 25 dollars
Money really went far
Back in those days
A band of professional
Communist agitators
Gave me a ride
To Des Moines
Lots of weed, booze
And politics later
Got off the road
Slept outside
Next day
A beautiful woman
Drove me to near Chicago
In a red mustang
Might have been
The girl in the song
Took it easy
Digging her vibe
She invited home
But was not sure
If her estranged husband
Would welcome me
So I being foolish
And inexperienced with women
Did not go to her place
And always regretted
That I had lost
My chance that day
Then on to Chicago
Several rides later
Visited friends
Hit the road again
A series of uneventful rides
With truckers
And others
And a week later
I ended in New York City
Slept along the way
In cars
In truck stops
In highway rest stops
Always moving
Always going
None stop talking
And lots of free weed
And beer
And conversation
One more memorable ride
Occurred outside Albany
On my return to Chicago
A middle age creepy looking man
Picked me up
In a brand new Cadillac
He was he said a dynamite deliverer
For the Mafia
Went to various places
To blow up shit
He hated a lot of people
Particularly hippies from California
And Jewish people
Looking at me to confirm
That I was both
I told him that I lived in New York
And had never been to California
And although I might look Jewish
As I what was called back in the day
A “Jewfro”
I was not Jewish
Many years later I discovered
That I am indeed part Jewish
But then I did not know
And I felt a bit of strategic information
Might keep me alive
Then I realized that he was just jiving with me
And we relaxed
And he pulled out some weed
And beer
And we mellowed out
But I believe that he really was with the mob
Perhaps not a dynamite dealer
A real made Italian made mafia member
By Chicago
I had enough
I called my Dad
Told him what had happened
Wanted a ticket home
And he sent me a ticket
And 500 dollars
And I went home
I told him I would tell him
My tales someday
But never did
I learned so much
About my fellow Americans
And the strange vibe
That was 1975
And now it is too late
But I wanted to finally
Tell the world
Of my hitchhiking tales
In search of America 1975
Bus Rides In America’s Underbelly
bus riding
I am a bus rider
That makes me unusual
For a white male
From an upper middle class family
Our people are not bus riders
Though some are subway riders
Bus riders are other people
The poor, minorities, immigrants
People who don’t drive
Because they are blind
Or have a DUI
And in my case
I don’t drive
Because I have bad vision
And bad coordination
Just never got the hang
Of the whole driving thing
Fortunately for me
My wife does the driving
But I still take the bus
From time to time
I rode the AC buses in Berkeley
As a child
Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus
Rode them long before BART came along
And afterwards as well
As an adult seldom rode the bus
But when I did so
I was always impressed
By the sheer diversity
Of the bus riding property
Hundreds of languages
All sorts of sexual orientation
Some were white
Most were not
Most of my fellow passengers
Were nice enough
Some were friendly
And some were lost
In their own thoughts
And a few
Were scary looking dudes
With the look
Of someone who had done time
And were capable of more violence
I also rode the bus
In Seattle as a graduate student
A lot of fellow UW students
And the usual immigrants
Minorities etc
And some white people
Commuting
And in DC
Over the years
I rode a lot of buses
Mostly to and from the metro
But I got to know
And love the DC buses as well
I also took the greyhound bus
Across the country
Several times over the years
All over the U.S.
From Bay Area to Stockton
From Bay Area to Clear Lake
From Bay area to NYC
NYC to DC
All over the USA
Taking the Greyhound
Was always an adventure
Met a lot of interesting people
As people on long distant bus rides
Tend to open up and talk
To pass the time away
Overseas I took the bus
All over
In India, in Barbados
In Spain and in Korea
The Korean buses
For many years
Were difficult for foreign visitors
As the signs were all in Korean
Most have signs
Now in English, Chinese and Korean
And are much more foreigner friendly
Riding the bus
In America
Allows one access
To the underbelly of American society
The poor, the marginalized
The immigrant communities
That many middle-class white people
Just never see
And for that reason
I am glad
That I am a bus rider
Notes from the Author :
Based on my experiences riding the bus all over the world from 1968 to 2018.
More Howling at the Moon Poems
</h2 > I want a dog’s life
