Old World English

I want to talk about a word
severely underused
as of late.

A word created then lost-
callously discarded to the
depths...of the 1990's.

This word is rad.
Coincidentally the word I'm
talking about also happens to be the word: rad,
but rad's pretty rad so it still works.

Let's face it,
there isn't a nugget of vocabulary
that rolls off the tongue as easily as rad.

That rug is rad,
that hat is rad,
that raggedy rickety rabbit is so very righteously rad.

That broom is rad,
that chair, so rad,
that broom on that chair?
Rad, rad, rad!

What's better then rad?
Nothing, and the only reason
I can think of for why it's fallen
out of style is that it was indeed
too rad.

Like Pogs, and Whistle Pops,
it was just too rad.

Dramatic Poem

Who doesn't love a good dramatic poem?

I'm talking about a poem that

makes you cry, a lot.

I'm talking about a poem that makes you

cry so much you just

waste away in the chair you were sitting in;

cry so much you just soil yourself

right in the chair you were sitting in;

cry so much that you 

stain your petticoat,

roll on the floor sobbing,

and then stain the petticoats of 

those that flock to your side

to comfort you.

I mean, that sounds great time to me.

Who doesn't love a good couple of verses,

or even 85 versus, all working together in

unison to make you burst into

a water-factory of woe.

A good dramatic poem

pulls you into

a depth of melancholy 

you never thought possible.

Those kinds of poems are my favorite.

I can't stand poems that aren't dramatic.

Those poems and the poets that write 

them should all explode on conveyor belts.

The Perfect Moment in a Week

Miserable Monday,
to an amiable after,
Wednesday's half-decent
and Thursday's okay.

Thursday night, however,
leaves me feeling superb:
Almost better than Friday, Saturday and Sunday combined.

Peanut Butter

There's a struggling class war going on.

It's happening here! In OUR homes!

At this very moment!

It's a protein-rich clash, full of flavors, 

and mingling consistencies and it's hit

dire straights people. It's come to war.

Nobody knows when it started,

who threw the first blow,

when the first battle was fought,

or even who won, 

but nobody can deny its necessity. 

With the feeling of inferiority fueling one side

and stubborn pride the other, both sides, incapable of retreat,

have formed a sticky gridlock of grinding teeth

with hatred to spare.

It hurts to talk about

but I'm always seeing results of the conflict,

and the tireless struggle is enough to drive me to tears,

because:

To end it would be easy.

All it would take is some compromise.

All it would take is some understanding,

and some trust...

but if my mom just thinks she can keep buying 

creamy, she's dead wrong.  

 

In my House

When you're entering my house:
be sure to take your shoes off at the door.

When your're entering my house:
you must make it your goal to not get mud on the floor.

When you're entering my house:
the cheese and meat platters are indefinitely stocked.

When you're entering my house:
the window on the veranda is never locked.

When you're entering my house:
the band plays at two in my brand new garage.

When you're entering my house:
imagine a post-industrial-bachelor-beaver-lodge.

When you're entering my house:
don't touch the vase, it's insured, and I'll sue.

But you're not entering my house:
because you didn't take off your shoes.

Fifty Rabbits

The significance of fifty is obvious
but ever-changing to fit its context.

Fifty can mean middle-aged
and wizened, slack but determined.

Fifty can mean test-failing,
cursing and destroyed, hardened but hurt.

Fifty can be half of a partnership,
half of a crumb cake,
half of a crummy partnership,
or even half of a crumb cake you made with a partner.

Fifty can be math class,
filled with percentages,
fractions and no fruit filling.

Sometimes fifty can be the worst,
but sometimes fifty can be a lot of rabbits,
which can good or bad,
depending on the context.

The Mechanical Mode of Me

Whenever I eat my mother's brownies
I always raise one eyebrow
and let out a shocked and awed, "Mmmmmmm,"
as if I didn't know they'd taste so good.

Whenever I'm down on my luck,
I tend to throw my
arms up in the air
and say, "aw well."

I know I'm full from eating too much
when I sigh a lot,
or when it hurts to breathe
and I'm above water.
If I'm underwater then that my be
the reason it hurts to breathe,
but how often does that happen?

Whenever something good comes my way,
I also do the brownie thing.
Like, "MMMMmmmmm, I'm so honored to be receiving this academic achievement award!"
Or, "MMMMmmmmm, I'm so happy to be swimming in a lake of brownie batter!"

I have these mechanics that allow me to operate successfully,
you can find them in my schematics
which can be located in my user manual.
They aren't very complicated but they're firm
and operate on a set of strict guidelines so keep in mind
that If I happen to be underwater
and full at the same time I'll probably let out a big sigh and drown.