Tag Archives: Free Verse

When The Light Goes Out Things Get Dark

There is one green light bulb

From an old Christmas tree

In the upper-left-hand plastic ring

Of the thingy that holds together

A six-pack of generic-brand cola,

Reclining in an Ohio landfill,

Never again to be lit

Or decorate a house

Or hold public office,

But the bulb is happy

Because it will outlast the family

Who chucked it in a hefty bag

And forgot all about it.

The bulb remembers.

The bulb is patient.

The bulb is all out of mercy…

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There’s A Guy Who Gets His Ass Kicked In A Dark Alley

Sometimes I lie away at night

Wondering which fancy jackass

Invented the word “pretentious.”

If our positions should coincide

In an unlit walkway between buildings

I’d like to thrust a limb pertaining to my lower body

To the rear-side of the juncture connecting his counterparts of the aforementioned lower-body elements

Purely for hedonic gratification.

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The Answer, At Last!

All the single ladies

Ask where all the good men went,

Dreaming of the good old days

When the six-foot-plus millionaires

Without egos or exes

Would contact them conveniently

And buy them stuff

All without leaving the house.

Meanwhile the six-foot-plus

Drama-free millionaires

Are in their basements

Roleplaying car thieves

And writing bad poetry blogs.

You’re welcome.

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This Poem Doesn’t Rhyme But My English Professor Still Hated It

I think a good name for a dog

Is “Help”

Because when you call after it

Other people look at you

And some of those lookers

Are rich and/or sexy

And enjoy the company

Of cheekily named dogs

And their owners…

Just sayin’.

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You Expected A Rhyme? I Expected A Nurturing Home Environment. Ha!

If you’re the type of person

Who’d name their child “Splorch”

I want to meet you

Because my name is Splorch

And my parents left me

When I was young

And you’re probably them.

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Hard Hypotheticals

If I could clone myself

And make an evil twin

I probably wouldn’t.

But somewhere out there

The guy whose evil twin

Would’ve killed Hitler

Is regretting his choice

Not to make an evil clone.

Now I’m doubting my decision…

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It’s All Aroun’, Bringin’ Us Down

What comes up

Must come down.

What goes sideways, as it turns out

Also must come down.

What doesn’t move at all

Never will go up.

It is for these reasons

That gravity makes a crappy topic

For poetry.

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