There is a man who thinks he's in charge,
he's strong, dumb and very large.
Twenty foot tall and that's a fact,
twenty and a half to be exact.
He can crush you with his bare hands,
you better obey his list of demands.
Not the devil, not a god,
just a huge man who's very odd.
Not a monster, not a myth,
just a man you can't mess with.
Stomps on people just for fun,
chaos for him has just begun.
He can **** you with his mighty fist,
its the third demand on his list.
Can't speak a word only grunts,
eats babies and smokes big blunts.
If he kicks, you will land a mile away,
his nasty teeth are filled with decay.
Getting shot just makes him mad,
will not stop killing til he finds his deadbeat dad.
His demand list has only five things,
you must call him the king of kings.
He has a name, please call him Rick,
or he'll slap you with his seven foot ****.
You already know number three,
he'll punch you if you don't agree.
You don't wanna know number four,
but trust me it will lead to gore.
Killing his father is number five,
keep out of his way, if you wanna stay alive.
Five is as high that he can count,
his dads head he wants to mount.
Giving birth killed his poor mom,
her body exploded like a bomb.
He's only twenty, grew one foot a year,
not even old enough to drink a beer.
Found his dad and ripped off his head,
he actually smiled after the father was dead.
Rick became a very nice guy,
now he is friendly and very shy.
Rick died when he was thirty,
at the wake, Weird Al sang White And Nerdy.
His ashes are in a six foot urn,
this sad story will now adjourn.

Prahu opines re the mathematics of love

Her equations hypotenuse me,
So I write adjacently,
As if we were cosine functionalities.

A special formula,
A Hyperbolic Cosine,
For to equate love mathematically,
We must use verbal hyperbole.

Binomials,  the pair of loves,
Coefficient Trekkers,
On the mountains of waves,
To a product infinite.

So let us,
Reductio ad absurdum
That love is pointless.

Nah, nope.


Love is the point on a curve
that never stops moving,
Even as the curve forever, bending
And the possibilities,
Exponential...
In the sums of love,
The finite answer is always two.

So let us be clear,
This exercise has made me late
For work,
For which
I express my appreciation as follows:

X = xo,

Or

Summation Expansion
  e e=  1 / n!
= 1/1 + 1/1 + 1/2 + 1/6 + ... see constant e
  e -1 =  (-1) n / n!
= 1/1 - 1/1 + 1/2 - 1/6 + ...
  e x =  xn / n!
= 1/1 + x/1 + x2 / 2 + x3 / 6 + ...

I no longer have all of my
soul.
Shards lost and stolen so long ago,
by monsters and men,
both great and small,
have left me with hardly enough love to spare.

I no longer have all of my
mind.
Thoughts fading and forgotten with time,
as others became,
both great and small,
have left me wishing for the past to return.

I no longer have all of my
heart.
Fragments given and never returned,
for unjust causes,
both great and small,
have left me regretting more than I can bear.

My Heart, Mind, and Soul
are missing many parts, but
you can have what's left.

The music was good
I asked the DJ if he had my song
No
But the music was good
There was a shapely bartender with a shaved head
And a long flannel shirt that made it sometimes look as if she
Wasn't wearing any pants
And she wasn't
She was wearing shorts
I asked the DJ if maybe he had a certain other song
No
But the music was still good
There was a smaller room where you could smoke indoors
And a foreign guy with a shaved head
Foreign guy with a shaved head: Hey let me know if I'm in your space or something.
Me: Huh?
Foreign guy with a shaved head: You bumped into me so if I'm in your space or something...
                                                                                                                                                         let me know
It is not my space
I don't own the bar
It is the bar's space
Or perhaps it is the government's space
Or god's space
Or like an alien supercomputer's space
But it is not mine
Or his
I think about picking a fight with this guy
Or letting him kick my *** more likely
So we could share the space
More effectively

I ask the DJ if maybe possibly he had a certain song by chance
No
But the music was still pretty good
There was a girl with a pretty dress and a head full of ****
I patted her head to watch her hair go up and down
She noticed and we got to talking
About musical theatre
A song came on and she said she would meet me on the dance floor
The song came and went and she did neither
I asked the DJ if he had a song I knew he'd have
Yes
The music wasn't so good because it was a boring song
That I had heard many many times before
I danced with a friend
And a sweaty man danced between us
Reeling and mugging for his audience of friends
He picked up my friend and put him down again
To the crowd's delight
I stole his hat
Right off his head
And my friend and I left the bar
We got in the car laughing
And drove away
And the music was good

I came here
To seek a place to hide
To seek solace
Because
I'm absolutely tired of
Being judged
I hate
Being misunderstood

Sure
I'm not good with words at all
But
Leave me alone
Stop harping on
My words and
My views

You've misunderstood me
You've judged me
I could have explained
If you hadn't seen through me

But you robbed me of that chance
As you stepped into the
Weaved
Abstract
Cloud of thoughts
That stemmed from you
Not me

Once upon a time, on a site far far away, I would post and not a soul would comment, let alone read...

  
  
  
  
  
Minor poet,  
I am not even, but odd.  
  
A truth that slaps me unto tears.  
  
I seek your admiration,  
admonish your failure to
admonish me, fail me
unto tears.
  
Your academic hyper-pretensions
gods of overlording silence,
sentence condemnations of the
meagerness of mine deaf,
weary-worn entreaties.
  
Your ignorance and the  
vanity of my weaknesses,
pencil point punctuate my brain,  
holes filling up with the  
approbation of silence.

Tender unto me  
the Onomatopoeia of a concerto of boos,
barrels of bitter alliteratives
regretful rainwater,
send me curses of future inspiration.
immoderate me re my mediocrity!
  
Try try again, to charm thine eyes,  
populate your face with grimaced tears,
penetrate our mutuality  
with uncommon verse,
pricking the winter frosted windows
of a enmity and a common enemy.
  
Another day of self-persauding,
un-succeeding to accept that
successive minor failures,
are undeniably,
a success of sorts,
in a minor way.
  
A play on words,
as y'all play me.
  
Mr. Adminstrator, answer me!
Are we not all prisoners of Poetry?

Do you pay your bills (on time)?

Lunar and sun cycles overlap,
interest accumulates, faster than
human cells compounding,
atoms splitting.

time rules inexorable,
it's justice, ruthless,
so many dues to pay,
for clubs I didn't want to join.

do not deny,
I bought much of my own fate,
my heart, my eyes overwhelming
my worn down, common common sense.

even if I pay my bills on time,
time is the only winner,
and what I possess,
becomes a prison, possessing me.

Packet of Time

T'is the custom of some,
To do their self-sums,
Periodically,
A self-review of
What is seen
When standing before the
Mirror that cannot lie.

Some like Xmas, while others
Count their turkey feathers
on January first.
Others numerical ***** on
The fifteenth of April,
As required by the IRS.

Others habit bound,
Do a spring cleaning,
Or an annualized medical checkup.

Then there are the enviable few,
Who never do
Such an exercise,
For being sure of one's rightness
Precludes the necessity of having their
**** probed, their status, already known.

As I lie in bed at four am,
Waking  after a four hour packet of rest,
Began to wonder, what is the proper period
That a person should time themselves out,
Take a look back, do a "get back Jack,"
To find where they not once belonged,
But where they should set the course heading.

Here is where
This poem gets
Deadly
Serious.

One minute please!

One on, one off.
Did you just spend the minute prior,
Setting your brain on fire,
Scrub away the false pretenses,
Or waste 60 of them on mindless telly?

Day dream, plan and scheme,
Outline the plan, man,
Or curse your fate
The one you, Nate,
Created.

Seems quite expensive,
Spending half a life
Thinking how to
Spend the other half.

But a **** worthwhile,
Notion,
likely to reduce
Self- promotion.

For after but a few such minutes,
You will likely conclude,
Better to think of others,
Than yourself.

Then you truly begin,
The voyage human.