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 Eleven, Poem Number Eleven: “Jude, The Patron Saint, Falls In Love”

These are not Halcyon days and nights
for those wearing exposed hearts
stitched clumsily to their arms.
They should be afraid
or at least alert;
put up your guard!
I say.

The hospital volunteer in her vermilion stripes and exhibitionist skirt,
offers to help the ailing and hapless but even worse
our body’s defenses are low.
She infects this vulnerable man,
an unprotected soldier sans armor
caught in her barbed wire,
destitute.

Like a dentist, she comes in grinning, porcelain, smiling innocence
brandishing tools and clamps and other things that are good for my health.
And if I’m a good boy, here’s a sweet, except
my molars shatter every time
they bite down on your
hard candy,
doctor.

Another role, another face, she fills the shoes gracefully, a glass slipper
forms around her foot, molten glass never burning the skin.
Instead the clear membrane embraces it, thankful to have been chosen.
Until the day the scuffs and the dullness
become embarrassing
and she kicks it off
shattering it.

At last, a waitress comes around to deliver the check,
and the price is hefty, perhaps too high to pay.
She knocks over a bottle of wine yet
her charm is disarming so
I don’t mind the stain.
It all trickles down
to the bottom.

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