One Day I’ll Find A Body

When every leaf is a dead body
Of the rodent caste
And each discarded rag a pigeon
That has long since passed

The sidewalks telling stories of
A jaded negativity
A rope sentenced as guilty for
Weird sexual activity

A pair of old discarded boots
Left lonely in the street
I’m sure each hold their designated
Now dismembered feet

All typical of just another
Walk on my work day
When I see an old used condom and
Just ponder “How cliche”

A bit of a departure for me but a true rendering of my break-time outings at work ever since my office moved from an upscale neighborhood in Sherman Oaks to an industrial ghetto in Van Nuys. Highlights have included a rat scurrying under my sandaled feet and a man driving by who pulled up to me to ask if I was ‘working’. The image below is an actual street view, but the office is buried all the way in the back of the lot and I think the picture doesn’t near do the disgustingness of the place justice. Maybe next time I can embed the smell.



The Muses Are At It Again

All my nine muses sat so sweet
A pretty row there at my feet
And to those dear girls I did say
“What should we write about today?”

Calliope said “To please aesthetics
Let’s make this no less than epic”
To which Clio said “Oh please
Those no one has the time to read
Though you would find me most euphoric
If we chose a theme historic”

Erato yawned said “Boring, boring
Who’s up for a little whoring
We know sex sells, so why bicker
I’ve a wetness in my knickers”

“All you think about is sex!
Let’s consult a religious text
I feel a need for veneration
Do your best to leave out Satan
For your mortal soul I’ll pray”
So Polyhymnia had her say

Then Melpomene said “Enough girls
With all the sadness in the world
Let’s write one so they’ll end up crying
I’m thinking say, some puppies dying”

“How could we write ’bout such things
I’d so much rather dance and sing”
“Oh Terpischore let’s make it plain
You dance just like Seinfeld’s Elaine

Oh doesn’t everybody see
We’ll likely go with comedy”
Said Thalia sporting a smug grin
Urania whined “You always win”

Thalia said “Your whining pains us
How ’bout some jokes about Uranus!”
“And some music?” Euterpe crooned
And Clio said “You’re out of tune!”

Then such a sight, I live and breath
As Euterpe pulled at Clio’s weave
The claws were out most horrifying
Fake nails, underwear went flying

Thalia made a ninja move
Then punched Erato in the boob
So from the room I made a sprint
As someone screamed “Oh no you didn’t!”

But don’t you know this awful fighting
Happens often when I’m writing
Every time there is a doubt
Of what I want to write about

So your reading experience might make more sense, here is a brief summary of The Muses:

Calliope – epic poetry

Clio- history
Erato – eroticism
Euterpe – music
Polyhymnia – religion, hymns
Melpomene – tragedy
Terpischore- dancing and singing
Thalia -comedy
Urania – astrology and astronomy
Thanks to Aquileana at La Audacia de Aqulies for the information and inspiration.

Strange Bedfellows

You must look out for Cupid and
Make sure you’re aware of
What he may do on the 14th
When we’re looking for love

He’s not exactly evil maybe
Just a little twisted
I hear he’s got his arrows and
He’s looking to make mischief

This year he’s on the warpath or
At least that’s what I heard
So beware all you sluts cause you
Might end up with a nerd

And all the goody two shoes might
Wind up with those who sin
I hear he’s pairing meat eaters
With vegetarians!

Republicans with Democrats
And if that doesn’t vex
He’s also putting Star Wars fans
With those who like Star Trek

The young ones with the old ones and
The skinnies with the fats
He’s even getting dog people
With partners that love cats

Leos with Aquarius
And if that’s not a shock
I hear there’s rappers hooking up
With people who like rock!

So look out for the 15th’s awkward
Breakfast conversation
That Cupid can do funny things
And so can desperation


Prince Albert In A Can

I want to make prank phone calls that
Are so clever and cunning
Call my teacher up to ask if her
Refrigerator’s running

I could call my mother’s boss up and
While trying not to snicker
Confirm an order with his wife for
A Mexican stripper

Or ring best friend’s sister, oh
I surely could be wicked
When she hears that she happened to win
Some One Direction tickets

Or tell someone’s old grandma that
They won a dream vacation
Or survey random strangers for
Their private information

Breath heavy in the mouth piece when
They pick up for the call
Or just hang up not having said
A single word at all

Or play recorded pieces of
Two people having sex
Or make my voice demonic and
Say to the phone “You’re next!”

I want to make prank phone calls
And be rolling on the floor
Just like my mom and auntie did
So many years before

I want to make prank phone calls
Oh, how fun it seemed to be
Before those stupid voice mails and
Dumb old caller ID.


The Day After

When Shirley from accounting shows up
Looking quite a wreck
A scarf that covers telltale hickeys
Up and down her neck

And Peter from the mailroom runs off
Without saying hi
And you see that he barely can
Look Shirley in the eye

And workers check their emails and
Without missing a beat
Come to the one that Jackson sent
And quickly hit delete

The humor lost in the fluorescent
Cold reality
A faxed and emailed image no one
Really needs to see

When Kevin sniffles as he packs
His personal effects
Desperate to muster dignity
As he clears out his desk

When Connie from HR looks green
But says she’s doing fine
She runs to vomit in the restroom
For the seventh time

The boss comes from his office with
A look to scare the dead
His hands upon his hips and he
Just slowly shakes his head

And without a word he turns
Around and walks away
But I guess his black eye is saying
All he needs to say

When gazes dare not leave the ground
And vibes are most peculiar
Silence or awkward conversation
Round the water cooler

And it looks as if this week will be
Exceptionally gnarly
It must be the first Monday back
After the holiday party


Who Says Real Men Don’t Write Poetry?

Now gather round and listen to a little ditty,
About the biggest, baddest poet of the century,
When you see him comin’, you’ll know without a doubt,
Cause he’s wears his beret backwards, and sometime inside out.
He’s got William Shakespeare quoted on his neck tattoo,
And if you don’t like it you can go take a haiku,
He’s sharpening knives for the poetry slam,
And he’ll meet you outside if your verse didn’t scan.
So you better be prepared and don’t be no amateur,
He’s a rocket in the pocket with iambic pentameter,
When it comes to writing verse he’s the silver tongued devil,
And he’s takin’ bustin’ rhymes to a whole other level.

All the girls they love him and they stop and flirt,
And they’re wearing leather panties under flowered skirts,
Cause you know he’s getting lucky like the Big Lebowski,
And he’s gettin’ more pussy than Charles Bukowski.
But you know he’s bein’ picky, he ain’t takin’ no rubbish,
And he likes them fast and loose and preferably published,
He’s the man with the plan and he gets down on it,
And he’s gone in the morning but he leaves them with a sonnet.
They go weak in the knees cause they know that he’s the leader,
Writin’ rhymes all the time with impeccable meter,
Cause when it comes to writing verse he’s the silver tongued devil,
And he’s takin’ bustin’ rhymes to a whole other level.

All you people step aside cause you know that he’s the boss,
And he’s gettin more quatrains than Robert Frost,
And no one is badder, and no one is meaner,
When he steps out with a tercet, tanka, rondeau or sistena.
So you best show some respect or he’ll go gangsta on your ass,
Cause he’s bringin’ more couplets than Sylvia Plath,
He’s a rockin’, outlaw cowboy, gets it on the down low,
Got the sweets like Keats, got the spooky like Poe.
They roll out the red carpet because he’s a rock star,
And he’s smooth like Byron and he’s Wilde like Oscar,
And when it comes to writing verse he’s the silver tongued devil,
And he’s takin’ bustin’ rhymes to a whole other level.


Cover Band Man

Step down old man, step down, step down,
Cause there’s a fresh face here in town,
He’s cool, he’s hot, he’s now, he’s new,
He does your schtick better than you.

He tours the world he’s got it made,
I hear he’s even getting laid,
By a whole group of hot, young chicks,
Who come while looking at your pics.

They wonder if you’re still alive,
He’s running through your life’s archive,
It doesn’t take long to discover,
That the music this guy covers,
Clearly wins popular vote,
As the best stuff you ever wrote.

And now it is so clear to see,
You’re not the man you used to be,
You can’t compete, you’ll only loose,
A cover band man fills your shoes.

Who will never know the hindrances,
Drama or creative differences,
Or have everyone sing the tune,
Of crap you wrote in your bedroom.

But play the verses to the letter,
Just like you and sometimes better,
And you wish you had only knew,
How fun it could be to be you.

Inspired by on online conversation I had with Mark Bialczak,


You Should Have Known

She looks at her with weary eyes,
Impatient with her tears,
Foreboding signs, she had been warned,
It’s been building for years.

She tried to point out the red flags,
The hurtful words he used,
The many times he told her that,
He wasn’t in the mood.

She tries to be sympathetic,
How could she not have known,
She disperses one last Kleenex,
And says it time to go.

Her patient’s lack of perception’s
Such a disappointment,
But she has some time to relax,
Before her next appointment,

And so she reaches for her tea,
When her phone lights up,
Her husband says, “Late one tonight-
Honey, don’t wait up.”

This poem was inspired by a book of the same name by Jean Hanff Korelitz.


Depravity Ever After

Cinderella and Charming once adoring,
Now their love is old and boring,
And I fear they may be looking around,
For more inventive ways of getting down.

The princess was caught in a bar,
With Captain Hook’s hook down her bra,
And again we caught the slutty vixen,
Getting freaky with Rumplestiltskin.

But what got Cinderella in to this mess,
Let’s blame not the poor princess,
It seems that she was none the wiser,
When Charming turned out a womanizer.

Into strange fetishes unknown,
Involving calluses and hammer toes,
When she found her once beloved mister,
In their bedchambers with her stepsisters.

And though Rumplestiltskin and Drizella,
Indeed make for strange bedfellas,
Years of predictable perfection,
May qualify these predilections.

And neither party could deny it,
But said,”Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!”


4 A.M.

it’s 4 in the morning
It’s too late to care
So I guess the best thing about you
Is you’re here
Lookin’ at me
While I’m lookin’ at you
And deciding you really ain’t much
But you’ll do.