Bad Pregnancy Poetry

Inside a Mother(hood store)

It looked like she was smuggling a globe-
Like she had an entire world under her shirt,
and I was fascinated.

I wasn’t supposed to be here;
I wasn’t supposed to be trying on the robes of maternity
I wasn’t supposed to want to be here.

The thin fabric clung to her newfound curves,
As tightly and softly as a lover’s embrace
I wanted to be a part of that fabric.

I wasn’t supposed to want this
I wasn’t supposed to want the smooth touch of motherhood
I wasn’t supposed to want her

And yet, in the dressing room,
I could not help but touch
The dewy wetness collecting under the earnest bulge.

I shouldn’t be here
I shouldn’t be in this womb of maternity
I shouldn’t be comfortable here.

And yet I was comfortable
Comfortable running my hands over the rising swell of her breasts
Thick with milk and sexuality.

This couldn’t be good,
This couldn’t be sending spasms of pleasures darting around me
This couldn’t be that good.

It was that good,
When my expert hands meshed seamlessly with her aching body
Satisfying and tantalizing at once.

The woman in the slick reflective glass
She wasn’t me
She was me.

Some Spam Poetry

Some Light Verse:

My father’s deposed
I’m being deported
Can you help me out?
(This won’t be recorded)
I’m the son of the king
Prince, is my rank
And I ask but one thing
Your information of bank
I’ve got buckets of cash
And not a person to share
I’m not saying be rash
But there’s not a moment to spare
Help! They’ve got me stuck
On this dark continent
You’ll make a quick buck
Just sign a letter of intent
You ask what it says?
Oh, just this and that
About how in three days
Our pockets get fat
Just send over the PIN
To your checking account
In merely a min.
The money we’ll count
A scam you say?
What a strange allegation
I’ll put it this way
It’s called “reparations”

And a limerick

A man’s dysfunction was erectile
So he opened a “Clikc HeRe!” sex file
Followed the directions
Got massive erections
And became considered a projectile

I’m Not a Poet

I’m not a poet -

I just don’t like punctuation very much

Still, as long as I have unlimited

Line breaks

I might as well use them.

Whether you think you can

or you think you can’t

they won’t let you, so give it up.

Now.

They’ll tell you the world’s getting warmer.

It’s not.

Hell’s just getting closer.

They’ll tell you the God will love you no matter what

He won’t.

Cheer up bro, he was kind of a control freak anyway.

They said that she was just going through a phase.

They lied to you.

Postpartum depression never lasts 17 years.

There’s not really a diplomatic way to put this

so I’ll just say it.

I think calling that a suicide “attempt” is pretty generous.

And I don’t recall you being raised to make one poor effort and slink off miserably

Also, you cry way too much. The sun is out.

So cheer up.

Kind of long prose-poem

forty-seven reasons why i write poetry 

because, sometimes, it will be graded

because i know the grade doesn’t really matter

because that’s no excuse to not give me an A

because i don’t have to use capital letters

because letters are capital in poetry

because in physics time only goes in one direction

because i don’t get cubism

because i can’t play the guitar

because i don’t go to church

because you can’t revise a basketball game once it’s over

because a basketball game can be over

because i have to do something during commercials

because in poetry there are no commercials

because i really don’t want to watch Grey’s Anatomy, anyway

because i don’t have to make sense

because children can do it

because i was a child once

because i still am a child

because i’m not ready to have a child

because one day i might be ready

because one day i’ll die

because once i almost died

because one day you’ll die

because i probably won’t be there when you do

because, hell, i barely want to be there when I do

because i want to measure my life out in something other than coffee spoons

because i don’t even drink coffee

because it gives me an excuse to use sesquipedalian words

because you can rhyme without sounding trivial

because you don’t have to rhyme

becuase yiu can do it with yuour eyes clo\psed

parçe que vous pouvez le faire en français

because sometimes i have french tests

because i don’t always do well on french tests

because it’s less expensive than jewelry

because it’s worth more than jewelry

because that’s what i told my girlfriend, anyhow

because i’m not sure she believed me

because i meant it anyway

because lying too much is a good thing in poetry

because after this, there will only be six reasons left

because there will always be more reasons to write poetry

because you don’t need a reason to write poetry

because it’s nice to have one anyway

because every moment deserves to be captured, somehow

because this one just was

Why not?

 

 

 

I Could Pull off Skinny Jeans

Intro: Are you sick of being judged based solely on your intelligence, looks, clothing, money, ambition, personality, taste, loyalty or charisma? Do you long to judged only for the slendeness of your pant-leg? Me too, friend. Me too.

Chorus:

Well, makeup is cheaper than plastic surgery

And scene girls are cheaper than whores

Hot Topic is cheaper than A & F

And all they listen to anyway is the chorus

Yeah, I picked up the latest Bright Eyes album

I hadn’t realized I was do depressed

Nothing to do now except go buy the skinniest jeans

‘cuz there’s nothing like slender denim when you’re stressed

And I’ve been watching the AFI video

“Cuz I’m edgy and different from the rest

I just hope my all the guys at their next sold out concert

Will hear all about it and be super impressed

Chorus

And being in a band isn’t so awfully hard

All you need is the right hair and a friend who has seven months on guitar

A shy kid with a drumset, any one will do

College? Skinny jeans are what will really take you far

Sick of “One night in Paris?” try one night with Franz

So what if the cool kids all have nicer cars?

They’ll be playing your music on their speakers one day

When your skinny jeans make you into an overnight star

Chorus

Now, when I go home and get into bed, I can be the man of my dreams

I just take off my Bravery t-shirt and pull off my skinny jeans

Outro: Brought to you by Fall Out Boy, and Levi…

high speed internet

in a moment

there is time for a lifetime of ideas

about progress, and the progress of ideas

and the regression of both

there is time enough for emotion

e-motion, they call it nowadays

for the art of seduction

and the seductive, alluring quality that art has

even at low resolutions

there is a click – tick? – enough for talking

big picture

small screen

life contained in a space smaller than the average fish tank

fish have no morals.

there is even time for the hesitant whine of uncertainty

the moment of not-quite-sure

the imperceptible sigh of relief

time enough in the moment it used to take to write a word

in an old fountain pen

mind not to drip!

to download an entire book

but mostly there are Naked Ladies.

Poem

Winter in Eden

Glittering like a prizewinning drag queen,

The ground shifted restlessly under their feet,

the twin imprints still visible.

Silence waited uneasily to leave,

overstaying her welcome

but not knowing where the exit was

There were no more heavy breaths, no more moans

And the sweet nothings were now just

nothings

The crisp sound of the first bite into an apple

wasn’t in the air.

Birds weren’t singing anymore

Even the insects had ceased their persistent clicks and scuffles

Finally, piercing the silence, a static-y noise

A throat clearing.

“Adam, I don’t think this is going to work out.”