Poem: Suzuki Beane Method

(Like we all know about dogs)

(With their crazy four legs)

But what about the dogmen

Hotdogging us before they stick it in

(And with that wild ta)le

Dogma spread across the lawn

Their doggerel

Blossoming like dogwoods in spring

(And we pet them and things)

As the dogs of war

Chew the doughboys like biscuits

(But who cares about four legs)

Three branches two houses eight corporations

(And a ta)le

Told by a barker posing as an idiot

Signifying everything

(When all they really do is) shit.

Author's notes: This was meant to be in more of a "slam poetry" style than some of my usual output. It's also decidedly a protest piece, though like most of my work it's meant to convey an emotional impression more than anything in particular. It should be read aloud at a fairly fast, aggressive clip.

People with absurdly huge reference pools will recognize the lines in parentheses as belonging to a somewhat obscure book written by one Sandra Scoppettone called Suzuki Beane, about a six-year-old beatnik. The title is an homage to that and to the Gorillaz song "Left Hand Suzuki Method."

Another poem

Been a while since I had a new poem, hasn't it? But I wrote another one tonight, inspired by a bit of a favorite daydream of mine lately. I hope you'll all enjoy it.

Cuddle

There is
A tin roof
Over
My front porch,
Someday,
I would like
To lay
In your arms,
Listen
To the rain
After lunch:
Sandwich,
A Grilled cheese
Or a
B.L.T.
Iced tea
Lemonade
Mixed like
Warm blankets
Rain sounds
and
Us.

Strange Magic

(No relation to the otherwise excellent blog of similar name.)

I wrote a new poem. It probably sounds a lot more profound than it actually is, being mostly an exercise in picking a rhythm that was pleasing to my mouth, though it was brought on by the mental image of someone watching a Fritz Lang movie on their iPad, which got me to thinking a little.

As usual I make no promises of quality.

We live in an age
Of strange magic
New madness--
Monochrome Metropolis silent
On a screen in my hand, while--
Screaming Metropolis vibrant
On the street outside the window

And also a world
Of strange madness
Old magic--
The mountain calls Moses, Muhammad
With the voices it spake,

"There is nothing new under the sun
Sure as today birthed yesterday
We all live in interesting times."

For Daddy, 2013

I've never felt good enough
To be worthy of your approval
But not because I wasn't,
(At least I hope,) only because
You are so great
That it seemed like a lot
To live up to the example you set
Being my dad.

My successes now are few
And far between
But I know I can make it
Because I have your support
From the sidelines
Unwavering
And I always will
Even when I no longer need it
When I have blossomed,
The pride of your garden.

Off topic: In which I write a poem

OUTSIDE
The one thing I miss about
Being in school
(It just might be the only)
Was how
On Friday afternoons
In April and May,
I'd look out the window
Or be
Dismissed for the weekend,
And how the world
Seemed full of promise
Outside.