Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Thirty, Poem Number Thirty: “Stupid Children”

I finally got caught with my pants down
Leaving more on her face than a frown
She spat and struggled and shrieked
And told the world that I’m a dirty cheat.
I behaved like a weakly selfish degenerate
That sent her running for a warm straightjacket.
There was never a better one for me to meet,
We’re a pair of blind toddlers crossing the street.
I’ve been warned and threatened to stop the calls
Or else she’ll finish me off and take my balls.
Although this isn’t a comedy meant for cheers
The madness has me laughing through the tears.
Hopefully one day I’ll grow into a man
And tear off the filthy tights of Peter Pan.

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Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Twenty One, Poem Number Twenty One: “Calendar Carousel”

Sin fayo, sin fayo,
cada Cinco de Mayo,
salen las hormigas
actuando como descarados.

Pint after pint,
with no shamrocks in sight,
they drink their green beer,
then fights they’ll incite.

Celebrate independence
by burning down your fence.
Fireworks are good for starting
a war as intense.

We can’t always observe
in ways so absurd.
So let’s recognize the spirits
in actions more than words.

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Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Twenty, Poem Number Twenty: “Naked Snow Angels”

I saw it in a dream
or maybe on the internet.
The year I die is 2055.
I have forty two years left.

There are many things I need to do before then.
I want to travel around the world,
set foot on every continent, including Antarctica,
I’ll make naked snow angels, my body unfurled.

I will get cold undeniably,
but no one can stop me, not even the penguins.
They’ll waddle by knowing they have nothing to fear
for I have nothing growing on me resembling a dark grey fin.

Though this poem may seem odd,
full of gibberish and silly lines,
at least I did one of the things I wanted to do before I die.
I wrote about both penguins and my nudity and made it rhyme.

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Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Sixteen, Poem Number Sixteen: “Twins”

You’re a wet cigarette
gone limp in the rain.
I’m a dud pack of matches
devoid of all flame.

You and I shall inherit this planet
since we are scared and meek.
When the strong kill each other with hatchets
we’ll hide in our holes for a week.

We’ll meet on the ground above,
as the last people left on the earth.
It’ll be impossible for us to fall in love
because we’re both afraid of getting hurt.

This is how the world ends
with two lonely people
who cannot be friends
or shelve their damaged egos.

The species will die off with a whimper and a sigh,
and I’ll stroke your hair, begging you not to cry.
I’m sorry I said those things about your weight
I was just upset you ate the last of the cornflakes.

You’re a wet cigarette
Gone limp in the rain
I’m a dud pack of matches
Devoid of all flame.

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Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Nine, Poem Number Nine: “Tonight and Tomorrow”

Tonight the moon looks like a flashlight peeking out from a closet bulging with grey suits.
Tonight the moon looks like a night light obscured by cobwebs in spooled loops.
Tonight the moon looks like a pupil less eye judging our every move.
Tonight the moon looks like the only clear spot on a magnificent bruise.

Tomorrow the sun will shine like the second hand cufflinks on a poor man’s suit.
Tomorrow the sun will burn like not being kept in the loop.
Tomorrow the sun will warm like an awkward first kiss when you make your move.
Tomorrow the sun will heal all but a damaged heart’s bruise.

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Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Six, Poem Number Six: “By The Way”

(An Ode to Love, Leftovers, and William Carlos Williams)

I awoke today
to leftovers of
your fried mac and cheese
in my fridge

I’m sure
you left it accidentally
hoping
to eat it later

I apologize
for devouring
your tempting
and tasty food

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