Poetry


a pious Student of religion
at a prestigious university
sat with tired vacant eyes at a bar

a Woman getting off her second job
sat next to her

the Student turned to the Woman
and asked how she could look so content so peaceful
in a world of confusion violence religious bigotry poverty

“well take this glass of beer for example…”

“oh!” said the Student butting in “you mean look at how the glass of beer wants nothing does nothing yet is perfect just being a glass of beer and quite content without trying to do anything and we can just imagine that all the whirring wild atoms or banging and fizzing bubbles of its carbonation might be overwhelmed if they just saw things from their little perspective but always in realtiy they’re perfectly together composing a lovely smelling amber ale. as the beer is so is the universe and everything in it. that’s what you mean right?”

“what i was going to say” said the Woman “was now you see it now you don’t.”
and with that she drained the glass in one long gulp

“oh!” said the Student “you mean to say that everything changes and that this too shall pass, right?”

“honey” the Woman said “i don’t know if you’re some religionist or on some philosophy trip or what. but if you promise to stop thinking so much and get some rock and roll outta that juke box i’ll buy the next round.”

“oh!” said the Student and understood

there was one who invented a machine
he called it Dread Necessity
others called it War

the Machine was elegant, honed and keen
so well did it work that hymns were written
for it and tithes laid at its feet

Dread Necessity worked very well
it was a Machine that once begun
could not be turned off
and where there was neither
dread nor necessity it made them

despite the pious priests’ hymns
and redoubled offerings
and the devotion of the people
the Machine ate them whole
without distinction

when all others were gone it ate its creator

alone and solitary
Dread Necessity churned its gears
with pleasure

there was no enemy
there was no one

all were safe from risk
all were dead

there is a story told
of one who carried swords

named by one wiser than he
his swords were called
Orphan and Dowager

this warrior’s last victim
locked himself
around the warrior in a death grip
unable to be broken

the warrior’s last days were spent
with carrion birds circling

 

 

if you hurt
you are human
and there is hope
healing comes to where there is pain

if there is desire in you
to cause hurt
you are human
and there is hope
healing is found when one sees
one’s self fully

if you are
there is hope

dried barnacles
of lactic acid
drunk slept
in muscle dregs

the birds
circling the battle’s dead
undead
a mental knife
struck deep
in one’s lungs and legs

HipHop still ain’t broke unlike everyone else!

If you’re needin’ mass cajones I am mas sabor
like empty bowled Oliver Twist I’ll have you beggin’ for more
I’ve got more bling, arm wings, and shingles than straight up Zsa Zsa Gabor
If rhymes were grains of sand I would be Episode IV
Just a poorman’s street ranter flippin’ beats like flops and burgers
Just a simple kid from Minnesota a scruffy lookin’ nerf herder
and I got an alphabet soup of beats like Sue Grafton’s got murders

I’m ice cold as a Klondike bar and as cool as cool ranch
I set the sex ed gold standard like the Golden Girl’s Blanche
So if French kissing ain’t your thing we can go closed mouth
but if tongue wets your whistle let’s lingua franca down south

Like Michael Keaton’s got White Noise I’m bringing the static
my rhyme’s electric like GE or Harrison Ford in Frantic
I’m outta this world like Marlon Brando you might scream that I’m ‘Stella’
other MCs are sea cows and I’m an outboard propeller

I’m sweet as a sleeping kitten or spoon o’ Nutella
I gots mad furs on my back like I’m Glen Close’s Cruella
I got more rhymes than Dalmatians and Arabian Nights
And I’ll shockya like Khan, a Cuckoo’s Nest, or Ben Franklin’s kite

I shrug off guff–showering down lines like dandruff
I’ll do an unplanned handstand got more ‘ands’ than an ampersand

My serpentine lines writhe in rhymes spit mad truths like Delphi
kickin’ Ides of March 24/7 much more madder than Hyphy
I’m a rhyme philanthropist got more 12 bars than felons 
I’m handin’ out a beat down of lyrics like straight up Carnegie Mellon
My lines will make you soar– like Kitty Hawk in flight
My lines tighter knit than thighs to lycra or Kit to Knight
My lines ride up like camel toe while wack haters play possum
my ride gots more side to side than a corpus callosum

That’s right!
HipHop still ain’t broke unlike everyone else

I asked my dad: should I be a poet or an air force pilot?
Be a respected, fawned over, hero to children
or a troubled and troubling egomaniac?
“Mehhh. You do whatever you think you need to do.”
My dad was always a hands-0ff kind of parent.
A man of few words and less attention, he held to the adage
“don’t speak unless spoken to” for both of us.
Uncomfortable silence is like the smell of baking cookies to me now.
I ride office-tower elevators just for the homey feeling.
Nevertheless my dad thought himself a wordsmith and a modern Mark Twain.
I always told him ‘cheating in a race between yourself and a frog and writing a story about a person who cheats in a frog race are two different things.’
A short list of his ‘folksy wisdom’ might go like this–
‘chance favors the mind prepared enough to have rigged the game’
‘better never than late if it means less paperwork’
‘you can’t uncrack an egg but with the right tools you can unbirth a llama’
‘judging a book by its cover if you’re illiterate shows initiative’
‘never bring a knife to a gunfight, always bring a gun to a knife fight, and always bring a well armed chimp to a monkey knife fight’
‘your largest sex organ is your brain and if not congratulations’
‘let the Wookie win’
Because I get airsick easily and look horrible in jumpsuits
(both traits I get from my father)
I took to the path to become penniless, reviled, and
with any luck posthumously forgotten.

I entertained the idea that one can love loud enough to drown out a small town’s whispers
I spent summers where my biggest problem was evening moths in my red wine and how to drink around them
I found a sonnet in the sight of Kotex in a wastebasket

Insert into your mind “Danger Zone” here

I lost lines between the bottle and the page
I memorialized the sudden silence on linoleum that grew in a kitchette
I passed by others’ definitions of success like some drive upstate two-lane blacktop to watch trees’ leaves die

Put ”Take My Breath Away” in your mental tapedeck

Some might say poetry is as dumb as Tom Cruise playing sand volleyball in tight blue jeans
And I’d say ‘O! To be those blue jeans!’

My father was a man who always followed the maxim: “Never leave anything unsaid.”
That only meant that he was esoteric, largely meaningless, and impolite. He was still a man of little words.
That’s because he also followed the maxims: “If you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all.” and “Speak softly and carry a big stick.”

Everything I know or pretend to know I got by watching my dad. They say that actions speak louder than words and that’s very true. Especially when your actions are usually impaired by alcohol and are trying to recreate scenes from Star Wars. (My dad loved Star Wars but the Ewoks drove him to the drink)

But my dad didn’t leave my raising to chance. He wanted to make absolutely sure that I learned to ignore everything he said by fueling me with endless litanies that he called “good ol’ fashioned wit and witticism”. He said he fancied himself a Mark Twain but I told him that cheating in a frog race is different than writing a story about it. 

Anywho, here’s a compilation of my father’s wisdom, folk sayings, and cliches. You’ll see why no jury could convict me.

Abstinence makes the heart go yonder.
The early worm gets the dirt.
A penny stolen is a penny unearned.
Twenty apples a day–keep the doctor on speed dial.
Mind other peoples’ manners.
Any scapegoat will do.
You can’t uncrack an egg. But with the right tools, you can unbirth a llama.
Don’t let the public lice bite.
I could eat the broad side of a barn.
Keep the ball out of your eye.
The ugly stick is actually her leg bone and she beat herself with it before eating it.
When life gives you shit, make a shit smoothie.
We’ll fill in that moat when we get there.
Warmer than a wizard’s taint in a wool cloak.
A bird in hand may be worth two in the bush, but birds of a feather flock together so hold your hand near your bird net.
For some the only red carpet treatment they’ll know is when their springer spaniel is in heat.
Better never than late if it means less paperwork.
Judging a book by its cover if you’re illiterate shows initiative.
A watched Sun boils.
If Iowa is restless sleep, Minnesota is a sleepwalking wetdream.
Don’t kiss a gift horse on the mouth.
Busy as a bee with its stinger tied behind its back in a stinging contest.
A person who gets all wrapped up in themself is most likely going to need their yoga teacher’s help.
Eating butterflies will give you butterflies in the stomach. 
The brain is the biggest sex organ you have. And if not, congratulations! Woof!
The only thing worse than putting fish in a barrel is shooting them.
A stranger in a strange land of strangers from estranged families.
Let the Wookie win.
Unfit as a tuba.
Drunk as a skunk in a trunk.
Tight as a drunk drum. 
Those who cannot remember the past most likely had a great time.
As difficult as cheesecake.
He bent over and spilled the beans. 
Whatever kills you makes you impervious to pain.
Televangelists are great leaders. In the same way that the lemmings in front are great leaders.
Horny as a no-peckered goat.
Before God we are all equally wise. And equally fucked.
Practice and performance enhancing drugs make perfect. 
Idle genitals are God’s workshop.
Always bring a gun to a knife fight.
Always bring an orangutang to a monkey knife fight.
Creme de la creme de la creme. 
Built like a brick shithouse and conceived in one too.
Chance favors the mind prepared enough to have rigged the game.

–Telemachus S. Groan

Now that its spring, its time for love. And ducks.
This poem is called Love Duck. I hope it touches your heart.

You caught me in your webby arms
Transfixed me with your fowlish charms
Hush now please don’t speak
Just close your eyes let me kiss your beak
You and I are birds of a feather
I want to spend the night together

You know, its emotionally dishonest for me to continue any further.
I just don’t
feel it, you know? I’ve been having tough times lately. I’ve been haunted by the ‘big questions’.
Why am I here? When will my manager give me a raise? How much discharge do I have to expel until I need to get that checked?
In short, I’m ‘blue’ man.
My therapist tells me maybe I should try thinking of life as a game.
I tried and I think that life is like a game of Pin The Tail on The Donkey.
Only instead of a donkey, its me and instead of a tail, its death.
I don’t know what to believe anymore.
But I’ll tell you what. Rule number one: don’t believe everything you read.
Rule number two: don’t believe your girlfriend of two years when she tells you she’s going to Tahoe over Memorial Day and no, you can’t come with because its a ‘girls only weekend’ for shopping and spas and no, she won’t call you because she can’t get reception up there for some weird reason and no, her ex-boyfriend Nathan doesn’t still live in Tahoe.
You can see why its hard for me to trust.
And for a person like me who spends a lot of time on the internet (even without World of Warcraft) I’m conflicted because I hate the internet. Its just a high tech vehicle for bitter, hateful gossip and banal mediocrity where you never see another person.
And for me, I’ll take my bitter, hateful gossip and banal mediocrity the old fashioned way: face to face with people at church social functions, barbershops, polio vaccination drives, and zeppelin launches thank you very much.
Don’t even get me started on love. It get harder and harder to find love on the internet now that I’m living with my parents again and they monitor my computer usage.
I’ve taken to trolling Craigslist’s “Strictly Platonic” category in hopes that I’ll find someone who mistakenly believes that ‘platonic’ means “obscure Japanese sexual fetish”.
And I know what you’re thinking. And no, its not 17th Century Kabuki theatre. You’re about two hundreds years off.
And you’ve got to be careful on the internet. Rule number one: clear your website history before your roommate comes home.
Rule number two: don’t ever respond to a dating service add that reads…”Me, a non-descript white guy in a blue hooded sweatshirt. You, a size 38 stabs chest and a size .8 strangles neck.”…I mean c’mon!
Those measurement are totally unrealistic. I haven’t been a size .8 strangles neck since like middle school!
And not that TV is any better.
My mom used to tell me that ”TV is mental masturbation”.
And she thought that
would dissuade me from watching TV!
She might as well have told me that BBQ skewers are ’eye popsicles’.
I don’t know how many times I was left blueballed after watching Siskel and Ebert.
What false advertising! “two thumbs up”. Humpf.
Anywho-

When I asked for mock duck soup you made me a cup
I love you so ducking much because you quack me up.
I can’t wait ’til you come home to roost you little Love Duck.

This morning I was looking at pictures of incense I’d placed on my Gaia shrine
(because incense smoke is so pollutive)
and while in a trance I was visited by the Spirit of Earth Day Past.

I held onto his sleeve and he flew me to Earth Day 1972
where we watched the first time Travis Wells of Dayton Ohio overcame great trepidation
to try out his roommate’s suggestion of “if its yellow let it mellow”. It was not as exciting of an ecological victory as you might imagine.
He then whisked me to Earth Day 1990 when I was twelve
and I was able to watch myself save the Sears catalog’s undergarment section from being thrown into the landfill.
My mother later sent it to the landfill and sent me to counseling.
It was worth it, Earth!

I then met the Spirit of Earth Day Future and lemme tell you: good news is on the way! In the year 2830 most everyone’s forgotten that really embarrassing thing you did during your blind date with Matt.

During this vision, I had to come to terms with the way I’d treated Mother Nature over the course of my life.
To be honest, I don’t have a perfect record in my treatment of animals and the environment.
And the shame of it makes me break out in hip hop.   

I lambasted a lamb and basted a ham
a xenophobed a zebu until it got out of hand
gave a snake bite to a snake though it rattled and hissed
and ostracized and scarlet lettered an unmarried ostrich

Because I couldn’t tame it I eschewed the shrew
and never gave the honey bee its credit due
I harangued an orangutang and hounded a poodle
I overfed a German Shepherd hefeweisen and strudel

I shook my fist at a platypus
told a bison to blow me with animus
On Halo3 I owned a hippopatamus
You should watch it on YouTube, it was rediculous

But that was the old me. That was the Tatooine Luke. Now I’m the Endor Luke.

I watched an awesome blockbuster movie this week with great special effects that taught me to reverence the beauty of nature.
It was called “Jaws”.
Its the relatable story of a workaday shark just trying to get by in life who has to face down three antagonists representing the id, ego, and superego. The shark falls victim to a ‘home invasion’ by the three assassins but doesn’t back down–she fights back as any mother would. In the end, the shark protects her home and dignity as a suicide bomber with a high pressure diving tank held in her mouth. Though the shark doesn’t take Roy Schneider or that creepy guy from What About Bob with her, she has performed a righteous act of jihad and will be rewarded with seven buckets of chum.  
And I think that’s a message we can all feel good about this Earth Day.

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