poem - catfish

by horace p sternwall

i dreamed i was tom sawyer fishing in a muddy stream and tom caught a catfish but it was not what it seemed the catfish was abe lincoln and he tossed tom a dime and said, hold on to it, my boy it must last you for all time be wary, said walt whitman for all this will be forgot what is seen will be wiped clean but what is whispered will not then up stepped henry ford wearing a necktie made of worms for he was not george washington and certainly not george burns do not cut down the cherry tree lest all this glory end tom paine is in the parlor making huey long his friend mr vanderbilt has four aces and grant a pair of kings jesse james looks over his shoulder as boss tweed pulls the strings a new book will be written when the old world returns but the children will not read it for no one ever learns tom reeled in the catfish and took the hook from out its mouth custer set out for the territory ambrose bierce went south

daffodils

by genghis gilgamesh

the sun came up like red daffodils. a lone traveler rode across the desert. he could see the fortress on the horizon. but his steed was almost done. the steed was a mighty goronian lizard, and had done the rider good service since he had acquired it in a bazaar on the border of the empire. but now it fell to its knees and could not go on. the fortress loomed, dark and silent, on the horizon. the rider got off the beast. he had one bullet left in his pistol. he had been saving it for the monster in the fortress. the rider had always prided himself on showing mercy to the beasts who served him. but he could not waste this last bullet to put the poor creature out of its misery. he started on foot across the sands. he could hear the great lizard whimpering behind him. after he had gone a hundred yards he turned back. taking a deep breath, he fired the bullet into the lizard’s brain. the shot echoed and reechoed across the plain. looking up, the rider saw the awakened monster emerge from the fortress. the monster was even larger and more terrible than he had been told. the rider drew his sword. the monster rushed upon him in a few great bounds. it was quickly over. the sun rose higher in the sky. the only sound in the desert was that of the gastric juices of the monster, dissolving the rider. it would get to the lizard later.

poem 55

by dog e relaford

clouds drift through the sky nobody asks them why birds hop around in the grass they don’t put their foot on the gas people hurry down the street other humans to meet they wear starched collars and make billions of dollars they had a master plan before the day even began i wish i knew what it was my head is beginning to buzz i wish i lived a million years ago so i could watch the sun move slow over a hill of green in a happy primal scene beneath a sky of blue with nothing at at all to do except find a few berries or grapes and hang out with the lions and apes with no taxes to pay or loans to beg i would let the ants crawl up my leg and the bees float around my head and listen to what the breeze said

poem - deep inside

by dog e relaford

why doesn’t everybody love me? i am not a bad fellow my shirts are white or pink or blue my ties are red or yellow my shoes are brown or black my manner is sincere i do not step on people’s feet and pay my taxes every year you who sit in cafe windows and laugh as i walk by so mocking and superior so knowing and so sly would it knock your organic socks off and your ecofriendly sandals too if i said that deep inside i was really just like you you can order wokeness by the spoonful and enlightenment by the pound but ordinary guys like me make this world go round i work for a soulless corporation that insures the mighty ships that carry the hundred brands of coffee which you thoughtfully sip that is just how it is so i do not mean to complain and keep a smile on my face as i walk through the wind and rain although i speak the truth because my heart is true what i really want deep inside is just to be just like you

bootsie

by bofa xesjum

bootsie was quite a character. everybody loved bootsie. well. almost everybody. a lot of people, let’s leave it at that. people would shout, hey bootsie, when bootsie walked down the street. some people would. the kind of people who shout on the street. most of them, a lot of them, would shout hey, bootsie at bootsie. they don’t make them like bootsie any more. bootsie was one of a kind. the kind they tell stories about. long after they are gone. for a while after they are gone. some people still remember bootsie. and tell the old stories. mostly the old stories, but sometimes new ones, too. which is kind of strange, when you stop and think about it. and makes you wonder. the people who tell the stories, old and new, they will be gone themselves pretty soon. and maybe stories will be told about them. but not as many. not as many as about bootsie. because bootsie was one of a kind. they broke the mold when they made bootsie. you can take that to the bank. good old bootsie.

poem 53

by dog e relaford

everybody hates me i have no friends this is how the universe ends people are bad they should be good this has always been understood and yet they keep on being bad i think it is really really so sad they go to parties and drink champagne and laugh at misery and pain how i wonder did it all begin the wind is howling may i come in? can i tell my tale? will you promise not to laugh? i want the whole world but will settle for half

Life On Mars

 

 Cabin fever come to its fruition 

– almost lost my head to the Empress this morning – 

the sky is falling down as rain, 

the snow has melted,  

 the Mississippi is about to consume the town, 

if not the entire world.

References to ‘magic lanterns’, 

‘floating worlds’ and 

‘backwards tintypes’ 

... applaudable, in my skewed view. 

Yet, should we exit on a ‘celebratory note’? 

golden years --
loose change in a jar
on top the 'fridge

january 20, 2021

poem 52

by dog e relaford

if i could write a poem and paste it on the wall i would send everybody a message including you all humans are lost now but back in the day they knew who they were and what they had to say and who to say it to and at the proper time they would throw a bum a nickel and sometimes even a dime and if the bum said thank you or even if he did not they looked up at the sky and thought beautiful thoughts there is only one road and everybody is on it there is only one blue sky so smile, doggone it

solipsist

 

a wish, a cloud set adrift, it floats, 

beset by chill winds, 

a feeling, solipsistic, 

exhaustion is your friend, 

a sleepless amble, 

a dream awakened by a frown, 

through the mist, across the flume, 

an idle mind wanders, 

searching through each room 

 

poem - never

by dog e relaford

i am just a bunch of atoms smashing around forever but i will always love my mama so never say never i tried to love everybody but could never make it work in the morning i got stuck in the muck and at night i got lost in the murk the. sheriff came and got me and took me to the county jail the night is as dark as a rainbow and the stars are growing pale i asked him for a cup of coffee and he told me to watch my mouth the bears are going north and the birds are flying south i hope grandma comes to visit when they open up at dawn even if i had my mojo i would put my tuxedo on i will offer her a donut though it might be a little stale custer rides into the sunset jesse james robs the mail

the dragon and the duck

by dog e relaford

what a terrible life you lead said the dragon to the duck never sailing above the earth but just flopping around in the muck who are you to say that the duck carefully chose his reply there are many things upon the earth but mostly emptiness in the sky what is wrong with emptiness? the dragon sincerely sneered you have a philistine love of detail just as i feared the duck declined to argue further but calmly walked away the dragon flew away alone though he had so much more to say

fantastic

by anonymous

last night i had the strangest dream. or maybe it wasn’t a dream. it’s hard to describe. it was so real, and yet at the same tine it was totally unbelievable. i was in this place. it was all lit up, but it was dark too. and there were these things, they were hard to describe. they were scary, but i couldn’t keep my eyes off them. and i had to do these things. if i didn’t do them i was in trouble. it was all so fantastic and unreal. i didn’t know how to do the things. the things the things wanted me to do, everything was all lit up, and just kind of moving around. i didn’t know what i do. like i say, it was hard to describe. if i had to use one word, i would say it was fantastic, absolutely fantastic. and maybe it all really happened. or maybe not. how am i supposed to know? go ahead and laugh, it might happen to you.

in the wind

by timothy t jones

american dog waiting on windy corner where is my old friend? american bum standing in coffee shop door i need a new friend no more sable coats or nights at the opera for you or for me right and proper, sir perfect room temperature the way you like it a good martini like a good faithful puppy should not disappoint but my dear fellow you expect me to believe you have no old friends when i was your age i had conquered the old world and threatened the new but now all is lost in the american night on the gray sidewalk in the rain, the rain outside on the gray sidewalk where are my old friends?

september 29, 1946

by nick nelson

johnny allen liked apple pie, and picking apples. betty bradley like to pick blueberries, but dd not much like to bake blueberry pies, or any kind of pie. cecelia carter liked to look out the window at the passing scene, but the scene did not pass as much as it used to. dave davis was one of the last of the old time door to door salesmen. ed smith was a wandering hobo. he claimed he was looking for work. sheriff fred brown had his work cut out for him. george washington was the first president of the united states. how was anybody to know that herb howland was not who he said he was? irene jenkins was the town tramp. joyce jefferson was married to no good tim jefferson, had six children, and wrote poetry in her spare time. ken harris had been in love with joyce madison in high school, and hated to see her married to tim jefferson. abraham lincoln wrote the gettysburg address on a piece of paper. a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. nick norris ran out of gas just outside the state line of nebraska. o say can you see by that rocket’s red glare? st peter had his hands full on that terrible day. it was quiet out in the graveyard. the rain began to fall. since you’ve been gone, the sparrows never come around to the bird feeder. take a minute, son, take just a minute to think about what you are doing here. rita underwood, “miss underwood” to generations of algebra students, had a funny feeling when she woke up from her nap. general robert e lee would have approved of this fine virginia ham. the wind began to howl. excuse me, sir, are you from around these parts? yellow. i say you’re yellow. a rabbit zipped across the road, followed by a -

poem - the house

by anonymous

when the sun goes down the trees disappear the road is dark but it must go somewhere did a king build the road? or did buffalo wear it down? is there a house at the end of it or only a tree? does anyone live in the house? is anyone hanging from the tree? do bandits live in the woods? is there anything left for them to steal? i have so many questions and no sand to write them down in and no rocks to throw at the windows of the house that may be only a tree

poem 51

by dog e relaford

a porcupine and a rainbow went fishing in the deep blue sea the porcupine said, you’re a thundering bore and the rainbow said, who, me? sheriff john brown and rasputin flew by in a red balloon the sheriff said, please vote for me and i will see you see all soon moby dick and jonah’s whale were lying in the weeds they overheard the conversation but paid it little heed the duke and duchess of fare thee well overturned in a canoe and swam home with their straw hats over their faces because it would never do albert einstein and robin hood set up an honest game but their teddy bears turned into army boots and floated away in the rain when the pope woke up in the morning he discovered his wallet was gone he shaved with his rusty old razor and sadly greeted the dawn little bo peep and schopenhauer argued whether life was a dream after a while they got hungry and went fishing in a muddy stream everybody has a moment when they see everything in a flash so carry your credit cards everywhere but always pay in cash

fifteen fricasseed orangutans

by nick nelson

johnny woke up. the rhinoceros was gone. he got up and went to the refrigerator and took out his 333. it was loaded with 17 b-5 pellets. johnny stuck the 333 in his pocket and went downstairs, outside in the wilderness the street was dark and silent. but three blocks away the top floor of hogan’s headquarters was lit up like a birthday cake. because sometimes the prime minister of england has to put ice in his own drink. hogan’s gorillas were patrolling the sidewalk outside his headquarters. i got a message for hogan, johnny said to the biggest gorilla. sure you do, punk, the gorilla laughed. tell him the time for action has passed, johnny said. everything is frozen now. we are all our own ice cubes, no matter how pink or green or blue we were. the gorillas pretended they had not heard him, but johnny didn’t care. he went down to the river. it was quiet. he could see a single canoe on it, slowly making its way toward him in the darkness. he remembered the county fair. he remembered winning a teddy bear for nellie. but now the good times were over, and he had to do what had to be done. the canoe reached the shore. johnny got in, and the blue kid turned the canoe around and headed back across the river to the mountain. the blue kid thought he had johnny’s number was johnny was hip to the scene. when they were halfway across johnny took the 333 out of his pocket and wrote the kid a new ticket. he threw the kid in the river and started paddling himself. a star came out from behind a cloud. when johnny reached the other shore, nellie was waiting for him. she was wearing the pink dress she had worn to the senior prom. it started to rain. they went on up to the big house. bascomb had built a big fire in the library fireplace. tell me what happened with the president, nellie said, after bascomb had served coffee and closed the library door behind him. fifteen fricasseed orangutans went to the county fair, johnny said. thirteen of them got on the ferris wheel. the fourteenth went to the shooting gallery and won a raggedy ann doll for his girl. the fifteenth hid behind the big tent. when night came he went down the country road and started hitchhking to columbus ohio. i guess that says it all, nellie said. not quite, johnny told her. no? i know all about the president. and about hogan. you should not have worn that pink dress. you can guess what happened next. johnny went back down to the river. the sun was starting to come up. but it did not stop. it kept coming up and up and up until it filled the sky. i could have told this story a trillion ways, but this is how i told it.