The White Rose

they said
"Stop it, damn!"
but with pamphlets in her hand
the university student ran
down a poorly lit Munich street
where no one stood to greet
what she knew
to be true;
and they wanted her dead:
they cut off her German head,
tossing it on the 3rd Reich floor,
and soon several more
who refused to eat Hitler's bit
got hit
with a similar fate.
were they too early or too late?
The White Rose
knows
that each voice
makes a choice,
some to take a stand
and others to hide their head in the sand.
what to do?
you?

but joey, i gave it my best

i don't want to scream
but joey
you're a nightmare instead of a dream
sticking fish hooks into my chest
too bad i gave it my best
so, walk a mile in my shoes!
do you know anything about the English poet Ted Hughes?
he's not some mild hoax
not a cheap target for your lame jokes
not a London tart without a heart!
could you guess
he's a genius?
no, but too bad
am i starting to sound rather sad?
a puff of frigid air up your ass
might fill you further with gas
and see the white rabbit stand fully alert
no, i wouldn't want you to get hurt
but joey
seriously dude
why so rude?
since you can't see infinity at least comb your tangled hair
remove the diapers for a pair of clean underwear!
but joey
i'm not undressed;
nor am i impressed
with your version of a cooked goose or seductive eyes
it's not me standing in central Paris wearing a cheap disguise.
it's you
i want to review.

fuck your AR-15

there was a flying fish inside a brown bottle
waiting on the street corner
and the night was cold where i sat.
looking out my window, i saw hard rain come
pissing down like blood.
i earlier heard on the news about the students
running from their Florida class
and yet their story seemed old,
but i'm giving it one more try to pull on my shirt
before someone else gets hurt.
on the radio, sweet Jane sang to a guitar player on a distant stage
while trapped inside her cage:
a puzzled President who kept her there
sent his fleeting thoughts and a insincere prayer,
but his real bag seemed totally empty of care.
in Parkland, the angry children began  to run,
confronting the bastards who were aiming a loaded gun
at the beauty of the noon day sun.
people screamed at the satisfied fat cats
who dressed like robotic beady-eyed rats
scurrying down narrow hallways in the political dark,
their toothy grins resembling a sneaky tiger shark
looking for public places to hide;
they shuffled into polished chambers with hungry mouths and lied:
more children and their parents cried.
there was a flying fish
inside a brown bottle
and it was hard to swallow,
like a bloated promise filled with hollow.

the bear would make a dandy rug

the bear sniffed the tree,
scratched at the old bark,
twisted loose a white grub,
and acted very macho with his red teeth.
he ate some early spring flowers,
sniffed a running doe,
sneered at a low flying eagle,
and shit over small blades of grass,
seeing that they were softly green but in need of other color.
he fancied himself a possibility!
he had no difficulty tearing into the earth:
his sharp claws were recently polished when he
evaded capture
by hiding inside a troll farm near St. Petersburg,
his identity disguised behind bad breath
and a fake accent filled with slavic vowels.
he whispered to one of the frustrated American hunters
"You can't catch me!"
and it wasn't the first time he narrowly escaped,
but this hunter wasn't nervous or sad.
he had heard similar words,
and they again fell on ears still listening
to The Battle Hymn Of The Republic
and bits of Abby Road by the Beatles.
only the lucky few who had knowledge of the
hunter's tools knew what he had planned:
the bear would make a dandy rug.

Woman in an Armchair

the woman in an armchair
with a large, fat dog,
was terrified of animals.
she had to be careful not to leave
any spare food on her front porch;
a passing cat would steal the meal,
or a fox would grab an egg.
the egg would be whisked away,
eaten at a later moment,
raw and uncooked.
but the woman never tried to conceal the egg,
despite the worry etched on her face.
she had stolen treasures stashed in her
huge closets, along with any extra clothes.
she had to be careful where she stepped
when the lights were turned down low;
cleaning was done only once a month,
but with the same old broom.
a little walnut piano sat in one corner
near the sunroom, by the fireplace.
a faint smell of ivory would waft
whenever anyone played an African song.
although she was always happy about
one thing or another, her most favorite things were
necklaces, bracelets, and ceremonial masks.
she wanted to maintain face,
even while having an afternoon tea.