You And Me ( Are Stereotypes)

You and me are stereotypes
And we will die in mass graves
Only every so often
Is there a hero that God saves
You and me are an orchestra
We play at the end of time
We do our best music
And our best rhymes
But somewhere someone laughs
And we hear it echo in our head
People such as us
Often end up dead
To turn it all upside down
That’s what my teacher said
Without the life to figure out
I might as well stay in bed

Are You On Something?

“Are you on something?” the cop said
I said nothing
He shined the light around the interior of my car
“What’s that?” he said
And kept the light pointed
On his face was a look of consternation
As though my lack of answering
Had led him to believe something supernatural
“Wow” he said “can I see that?”
I looked over at what he was shining his light on
It was my painting
I grabbed it and handed it through the window
He held it up
And looked at it
“Amazing” he said “but who is this?” he said pointing
“It’s David and Goliath” I said
“What is it about?  Why is there a severed head?”
“You’ve never heard the story?” I asked
“No” he said
“Well David kills a giant named Goliath”
“And you?”
“Who do you kill?”
“No one.  I’m against that sort of thing”
“Why do you glorify it in your paintings then?”
“It’s a historic painting”
He stood there a minute after giving back my painting
Put his hands on his hips
And perhaps considered killing me
But then he said “carry on” and went back to the cruiser
And drove off

The Gospel Was Solid

The gospel was solid
And I sat with it in my head for days
I daydreamed the ideas and concepts
And unmistakably clever concoctions
I drank down and felt
Felt as another world began to exist
And then I saw by chance
A gaping hole in the belief
My new world was vanishing
And I felt a drop
Of hopeless loss
And desperate
I ran to those who preached the gospels
And demanded the answers
For questions which were killing me
And they dispelled me
With vile words of demons and devil
Which for sure didn’t exist
And they buried me outside the graveyard
And I went to heaven
Which has internet

Nice Try Sandwich

“I think I’m the sandwich you’re looking for”
I said
To the lady in the store
And she sneezed
And I said “that’s gross”
“Well what am I supposed to do?”
“Cover your face”
“And get snot all over my hand?”
“It’s better than in the kale”
“I’m sorry”
“Just no kale chips for me tonight”
I went to get milk
And some cheerios
And a bowl
And a spoon
And proceeded to the self serve check out
The lady was there
Next in line
And I tried to bud
But she grabbed my arm
“Nice try sandwich”
She said
And I frowned at her
I looked in her grocery cart
And there was nothing but eggs
“Big night tonight?” I said taking place in a line behind her
She put her groceries through
And left
And I never saw her again
Did I love her?
Was she the one
I will never know

Your Poems Are So Shitty

Write something new
Write something witty
Do it you tool
Your poems are so shitty
Write something pleasant
That will lift up your spirit
Say it so loud even angels will hear it
Write something profound
Write something brave
Write while you eat
Write while you bathe
Goodness and pleasantries
Are all that are around
The bare naked lady
Hasn’t made a sound
Write something loose
Write something collective
Claim what is yours
Be overprotective

25 Minutes Until Hell

25 minutes until hell
When the devil rings his bell
And I fall down on the ground
With other atheists they found
To mull and gnash my teeth
With no smokes and nothing to eat
To slide and moan
And not be able to write a poem
To feel the fire lash up your body
And feel your flesh and it’s all soggy
25 minutes to hell
To gnashing teeth and splashing fire
To a loudspeaker over and over
Calling me a liar