Saturday, April 27, 2019

today's special - lasagna


by bofa xesjum



the anondyne belligerence of the comatose
dissolves the ecstatic fulminations
of the growing boy in hot tears

here is insolence indeed
just when your best friend is crowned king
the laughing mastodons of necessity

overwhelm the posturing quoters of regulations
sad, but totally understandable
very well, then, order the expenses to be approved

but do it yesterday
in the best traditions of the department
the time honored traditions of expedient delivery

what? did i hear you correctly?
there is no more vanilla extract in the medicine cabinet?
i have always known you hated me

it all goes back to the summer day
when we first met
at jerry’s thin crust pizza in detroit michigan

which no longer exists
except in a faded photograph
in the wind, and the sad rain



Friday, April 26, 2019

try me again tomorrow


by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"



you can write a poem on a piece of paper
you can catch a fish with a worm
you can ask people to listen to your poems
and watch the poor creatures squirm

i wrote a poem about the sunset
though i never go to bed
the pillow on the bed was pearly white
and the sunset was cherry red

noah built an ark of wood
jonah was swallowed by a whale
my papa called himself a preacher
but they still threw him in jail

my mama washed rich folks underwear
and hung them on the line
i polished st peter’s brogans
and he saw his face in the shine

all you lords and ladies
in your gowns and powdered wigs
you’ll have a hard time getting into heaven
though your bankrolls are ever so big

o listen to my sad story
and take heed of my fate
i ate all st christopher’s biscuits
there is nothing left on his plate



Thursday, April 25, 2019

romain rolland: a dream


by bofa xesjum



i dreamed i was woodrow wilson
with a top hat full of mice
i asked d’annunzio for a sandwich
but i had to ask him twice

when mata hari saw my sandwich
she demanded one of her own
lloyd george tapped on the window
but he was only skin and bone

i asked sir edward grey for a pumpkin
and up popped stefan zweig
he offered me a crumpet and a shoelace
and i had no place to hide

what is this strange creature
playing solitaire in the sand?
i thought of asking for a ticket to cairo
and it replied: romain rolland

the waiter hovering in the shadows
looked like babe ruth
he asked if i would sign his treaty
but i was afraid to tell the truth

don’t cry for me, tanganyika
on your carefully worded knees
but bring me the price of raisins
and walk in the rain, if you please



Wednesday, April 24, 2019

everybody and everything


by chuck leary



everybody wants to be president
everybody wants to be a bum
bureaucrats like their whiskey
pirates are partial to rum

my daddy was a preacher
my mama was a railroad man
some called me mister stanley
by others i went by stan

i went for a walk with livingstone
down a shady street
but although we quoted scripture
no prophets did we meet

we searched the sky for rainbows
and signs that spelled the end
we did these things together
though he was not my friend

we came upon a polar bear
selling basketballs by the ounce
we bought one for a dollar
and yet it would not bounce

we saw the queen of sheba
ride her bicycle on the lawn
and we were sorely puzzled
because we thought it was frowned upon

everybody wants to be president
everybody wants to be a bum
they tell you they know nothing
but they are only playing dumb

everybody knows everything
you know that this is true
everybody knows everything
except me and maybe you



Tuesday, April 23, 2019

thoughts


by jean-claude etranger




there are many things that a visitor from another planet might find curious about this one.

one is the situation of the drunkard, a familiar figure in virtually all earthly societies.

the drunkard is despised, though not, as a rule, vehemently. he is not quite regarded as a criminal, and he does not excite the horror accorded the “drug fiend” or the contempt directed at the lecher.

but the curious thing is that he is not only tolerated but enabled. in “good “ times and “bad”, in war and peace, in famine and plenty, in the golden ages of empires and the desperate declines and upheavals of civilizations, somehow the drunkard always finds a way to his drink.

the river of drink never stops flowing. this despite the fact that few drunkards brew their own potions.

this although the drunk, by definition, is “lazy” and “good for nothing” and a parasite on society.

the constant flow of drink is never a stated public concern. no seeker of votes stands before a cheering crowd and announces, “my fellow citizens, i plan to raise taxes in order to buy booze for every bum in every doorway in the city.”

no enlightened reformer of society ever declares, “the most important thing we as a nation must do is provide for the unslakable thirst of the most sluggish and inebriated among us.”

no conqueror enters a city and announces, “under my enlightened rule, all law abiding citizens shall work three extra hours a day, so that an army of unwashed and unshaven rabble may sit in taverns and on sidewalks all day wallowing in self-pity and further dulling their feeble brains.”

no child says, “mommy, please work as many hours as need be sewing burlap bags, never go to bed or sleep, but make sure daddy has his gin.”

the drunkard has “nothing”. but the breweries and wineries and distilleries of the world never sleep, and the ocean pours forth for him, and never recedes.

very strange.

waiter, a bock!



Monday, April 22, 2019

alphonse


by jean-claude etranger




alphonse, a young man from the provinces whose most distinguishing feature was that he looked about fifteen yeas older than he was, arrived in paris with the aim of achieving renown as a poet, and he initially pursued this path with the same tenacity and singleness of purpose with which his peasant ancestors had tilled the soil.

once settled in a little room in the old city - not indeed in a garret but on the third floor of an ancient and decaying five story building - alphonse followed a strict routine.

every morning he arrived at a small cafe just before dawn, and before the cafe was open for business. when the door of the establishment opened, either the proprietress herself or sometimes a waiter or waitress would appear and take the orders of alphonse and any other early arrivals. alphonse would take a seat outside on the street, unless the weather absolutely precluded his doing so.

alphonse always ordered black coffee, which he replenished at regular intervals until noon, when he switched to gin or absinthe. for nourishment, he ordered a croissant just after the sun came up, and another just before he retired for the evening, usually about an hour before midnight.

alphonse carried with him a series of small black notebooks, such as schoolchildren and commercial travelers use. during his long day, when not staring into the distance, he would slowly fill the notebooks with poems, and with his thoughts on life, love, history, and immortality.

his hope was that somebody - a famous poet, a distinguished literary critic, a beautiful woman, an urchin with a shoeshine kit, anyone at all - would notice his occupying himself in this way, and enquire about it.

he resolved that, if, after a year, or after filling forty notebooks, whichever came first, not a single person approached him, he would return to his native town and marry the healthy and moderately dowered young woman his family had selected for him.

the end approached. the last night of the year’s term he had allowed himself was coming to an end and alphonse was staring at a blank page in his thirty-ninth notebook when he was suddenly startled by the appearance of a beautiful and well-dressed young woman, who had emerged soundlessly out of the fog.

“excuse me, monsieur,” the vision addressed alphonse, “but can you tell me the quickest way to the rue de h—————?”

“why, of course.” by this time alphonse was very well acquainted with the geography of the area around his lodging and the cafe, and he quickly gave the young woman the precise directions she required.

“thank you, monsieur.” the young woman turned to go, but alphonse stopped her.

“excuse me, mademoiselle, but might i request a small favor of you?”

“a small favor?” the slightest of frowns showed on her perfect forehead. “but what might that be?”

“to read one of my verses, if you please.”

“read one of your verses?” the young woman replied politely. “but why should i do that? i have my own business to attend to.” and with that she was gone, as silently as she had come.

alphonse was left alone… with the sound of the shutters of the cafe closing for the night… with a single star in the sky overhead… and the dim light of a cab coming up the street… in the mist… with his glass of absinthe…



Sunday, April 21, 2019

just like old times, part 4


by rhoda penmarq



the the tide started going out
the diner was open 24 hours
but not the metropolitan museum

i bet your mother called you sweetie pie
especially on the beach
dad was a strange man

how he loved the metropolitan museum!
you liked it yourself
remember the bus stop?

strange people waited at it
in tulsa oklahoma
you liked tulsa oklahoma yourself

when mother called you her little whatever
because you were not so ordinary looking yourself
especially with your evil smile

spot was a good dog
he waited for the bus like a person
back in tulsa

how about yourself?
do you remember oklahoma?
and spot, that wonderful dog

that was how it all began
on a rainy day
with spot sleeping on the old couch

and mother asking you to go to the drugstore
because dad was acting strange
and you were not so ordinary looking yourself



Saturday, April 20, 2019

just like old times, part 3


by rhoda penmarq



not in a roadside diner
what a cute little dog
and so it all began

in columbus ohio
it all began
not in ronnie’s roadside diner

on a rainy day
or a bus stop
the buses run every hour

you’re not so ordinary looking
on a rainy day
in columbus ohio

you’re a strange man
shall we begin?
not in a roadside diner

in lexington kentucky
on a rainy day
not in the metropolitan museum

i bet your mother called you cutie pie

“i am afraid i did not make myself clear”

back in columbus ohio

or tulsa oklahoma
and yourself?
not on the beach

to the sound of crashing waves

“as long as you are sincere”

not in the metropolitan museum



Friday, April 19, 2019

last words


by jack dale coody



you know what i think?
i think it’s all a scam
you can call me crazy
but that’s just who i am

who will stop the rain?
who started it?
pharoah built the red sea
moses parted it

moses took it fast
joshua took it slow
everybody sang and danced
at the battle of jericho

alexander rode a horse
a horse as white as snow
when he came to the river
he had nowhere to go

julius caesar ruled the world
and put his face on a dime
everybody flipped the coin
but that was in the old time

mark and matthew wrote their books
luke and john wrote others
and yet they never saw the day
when sisters would be brothers

they say the end is coming now
and that it won’t be long
but i just walk along the road
singing my little song



Thursday, April 18, 2019

why?


by jack dale coody




why is the sky blue?
not because of me and you
why are the clouds white?
because everything is going to be all right

why is the grass green?
maybe that is just how it seems
why is the sun yellow?
because uncle bob is an fine fellow

why is the sunset red?
ask uncle fred
why is the farm quiet?
because nobody wants to buy it

why do birds sing?
because they know everything
why do snakes crawl?
because they are giving it their all

why does a cat meow?
because it is not a cow
why does a dog bark?
because bodies are buried in the park

why is the night black?
because there is no turning back
why is the ocean deep?
because cousin jane is asleep



Wednesday, April 17, 2019

love poem


written on the flyleaf of a copy of the bright shawl by joseph hergesheimer, priced ten cents at a yard sale in truro, massachusetts




if wishes were raindrops
and dreams were umbrellas
you’d be one of the gals
and i’d be one of the fellas

we would live in a city
of smiling faces
we would go to the beach
and we would go to the races

no bosses would tell us
what we had to do
our eyes would be bright
and our hearts would be true

we wouldn’t answer the phone
or look at the clock
we’d just look at each other
and let people talk



Tuesday, April 16, 2019

the lamb


by nick nelson




mary had a little lamb
who had nowhere to go
and the lamb was very much disturbed
by mary’s ebb and flow

mary liked to watch tv
and eat raspberry croissants
and the lamb could only wonder
as she brushed crumbs from her capri pants

who is this strange creature
the lamb thought helplessly
who never walks in the wind and rain
and has no desire to be free?

mary’s favorute show was friends
and also star trek and cheers
and gunsmoke and big valley
confirming the lamb’s worst fears

and so the decades drifted by
in pixels and sound waves
and though the lamb prayed fervently
mary would not be saved



Monday, April 15, 2019

poem written on the back of a flyer for a lost cat torn off a telephone pole in oroville california


by bofa xesjum



i am special
not like you
the universe would fly apart
if i were not the glue

the universal cosmos
protects you every minute
the only reason that it does
is because i am in it

i walk the streets unnoticed
unheralded and alone
but if i only wished to
i could turn you all to stone

someday it will be raining
i will sit down by the road
and all of you will disappear
when i lay down my load



Sunday, April 14, 2019

poem written on a computer in the kearney nebraska public library


by bofa xesjum



i write this poem
and since i want it to be true
i write it for myself
and not for you

i never liked flowers
i never liked birds
peace and love and happiness
are just words

all i ever wanted
was to rule the earth
but everybody laughs at me
because i am truly cursed

i am just a lonely zombie
walking in the night
you think that i am nobody
and you are right



Saturday, April 13, 2019

identical


by timothy t jones



the cans of
peaches

looked identical
so i picked

one
and the

desk clerk
grimaced

and sneered
in the shadows

no, they
are not

identical
at all

i woke up
trembling

what a
narrow escape!



Friday, April 12, 2019

just like old times, part 2


by rhoda penmarq



you don’t think they followed us all the way here from reno, do you?
i wouldn’t put anything past them
but that was before i met you

we have to do something
we are running out of time
i don’t know how to say it

then don’t try
i am going to take a look outside
why? don’t you want to live any more?

the sound - it is closer now
you made me what i have become
but we have to do something

after all this time
they followed us all the way here
i never would have believed it

how they must hate us
hatred must be all they have
what did you do to them anyway?

what did i do to them?
what did you do to them?
not that it matters now

give them credit - they waited a long time
longer than our love
yes, you heard what i said

and i will say it again
our love is dead
as dead as we will be when they come through the door



Thursday, April 11, 2019

just like old times, part 1


by rhoda penmarq



“here we are again”

i felt so strange
and then i met you

there is still time
did you hear that?
i thought i heard something

i didn’t want to live any more
there is still time
but we have to act fast

you’re a strange man
did you hear that?
outside in the parking lot

“i never really knew you until now”

they followed us all the way here
i don’t know how to say it

i thought i heard something
you made me look at the stars agan
i didn’t want to live any more

all the way from oakland
it’s been a long time
because you’re a strange man

you could say that
but i didn’t want to live any more
or at least from carson city

you are right - i hear it
i remember the first time i met you
outside in the parking lot!