• Welcome to Brian James Rational Poet’s poetry blog

    Welcome to my poetry blog. I love reading Plath and Sexton and Dickenson and Maya. But to me, the best poets I have read are the unknows. The giants are great for sure, but the friends and locals and groups are a joy to participate in. I encourage everyone who writes poetry to be themselves. It is ok to have influences, but you should always in the end be yourself. There is only one them, and only one you.

    Let words be your canvas, show them the raw you, in all your happiness and sadness. Show them your love of nature, and empathy and kindness, but also make them think, provoke, even blaspheme. The poet’s job to me, is to never be shy or timid, but use every word in your vocabulary to paint the best pictures you can. Paint your sunrises, your sunsets, your romance, your fears. Paint your insecurities, your addictions, your successes, your tears.

    This blog is dedicated to my late mother Jane. She was my biggest supporter and never let me fall through the cracks. While she was a bit of an authoritarian growing up, that all melted away in her late years, and we grew as close as any parent child could. We had so much fun with our silly car games and rubber duckies, and counting the trees. And our wordplay games, and our thumb wrestling. And forget Yahtzee and backgammon, she always kicked my…… at that. I love you mom. I miss you horribly.

    And also my late best friend ever, Bob. He unfortunately passed away in 2017. He lived in Australia, he was a science geek, and he taught me a lot about debate, and some science. I can only grasp overall concepts, not real nitty gritty details. But he most importantly made me feel comfortable in my own skin. I miss you too Bob.

    Then there is this annoying guy from Okleeee homa, who says “tators”, and “videeeaaaa” instead of “video”. And don’t get John started on banjos. He is my best friend and he is always there for me, and I love that redneck.

    And also Dwayne, Stacey and Vicki. You saved my life all of you. Thank you.

    All poetry posted by me on this website is attached to @brianrrs37, handle RationalPoet on Twitter ,as well as “Brian James Rational Poet” on Facebook/ META. And is subject to copywrite on all my pages.

    A Special thanks to Brian Sapient of Rational Responders http://www.rationalresponders.com for hosting my poetry thread for so long. Thank you.

    AND….. YOU are more than welcome to share this link on your social media. Especially Meta and Twitter, but your own social media too. Any help bringing traffic here is more than welcome. THANK YOU.

    This poetry blog may contain some material that may be considered sensitive to some viewers. Reader discretion advised.

    Now, everyone, grab your popcorn, glass of wine, and watch me make a fool of myself. Enjoy.


    I only have two Twitter accounts.



    NEW EDIT………

    A special thanks to Zaylen of “Okay Atheists” on the Discord app, for allowing me to guest host this poetry reading available on their YouTube channel originally aired 5/22/23. Here is the link

    If you want to leave a comment to any poem, click on the BOLD title of the poem first, scroll to the bottom of the poem, and you should see a field to leave the comment in.



  • Inevitable

    Inevitable, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    In a concert
    There is a last note
    In a book
    There is a last page
    In a movie
    The credits always roll
    While time will
    Always take it’s toll
    Enjoy it while it lasts
    For tomorrow
    Is always extra.

  • Always Bet On Black

    Always Bet On Black, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    I am glad my panther does not bother
    I am glad I don’t get under his collar
    I am glad he is domestic and is not taller
    Because he if he was he could make me holler

    I am glad he isn’t a Navy Seal
    I am glad he isn’t a Ninja that is real
    I am glad he isn’t a crow or raven
    If I were a sheep I’d be mutton

    He is furry, purry and healthy
    Silly, funny and stealthy
    While he can’t make me wealthy
    He can silently sneak around me

    He’d make a great October decoration
    Hitch a ride on a broom, witch with a declaration
    A carved pumpkin could be his companion
    He’s everything Halloween can imagine

    He could be the the Karate Kitten
    But he’s grown and his name isn’t Danial Son
    He blends in to the shadows, and sleeps on my pillows
    His name is Anneplath, and he’s the cutest fellow.

    Anneplath, pronounced “Anna-plath” or “Anna-pleth” is a boy cat, he has grown up and gotten real big. His sister Kelly is a Calico, I named her after Jaclyn Smith, because two months before I got the pair as kittens, I got a Tweet from the real actress.

    “Anneplath” is a hybrid name of two of my fellow poets “Anne Sexton” and “Sylvia Plath” thus “Anneplath”. And it is appropriate because he is dark and many of their poems are dark.

    The funny part of him in reality, is that if he is in a shadow even during the day, I can walk right by him even if he is in front of me and not see him. I especially have to be careful when feeding him because he likes walking around my legs.

    I just wrote this poem because, like almost every day, he picked a very good spot right laying on my bed, and because I had no lights on, he just blended into the wall behind my bed which is dark in color as well. Sometimes my anxiety makes me think maybe he darted out the door when I take out the trash, but the truth is he is strictly an indoor cat and he is afraid of the outdoors, at least for now.

  • Left Of Center

    Left Of Center, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    Don’t ask me how I ended up
    Left of center west of Adelaide
    It was a concoction of my R.E.M.
    Something my slumber had made

    The traffic just wasn’t right
    I had just left my dorm room
    Trying to call my mother at night
    The cockroaches gave me a fright

    I had no money, my passport gone
    I found myself wondering the streets
    Looking for help, what went wrong
    9 thousand miles away, how did I go astray?

    I was worried what my mother would say
    I knew her panic would never go away
    If she couldn’t contact me this very day
    I was desperate to get to her, had to find a way

    Then suddenly on the side of the road
    A family in opposite traffic walking their dog
    I waved at them with tears in my eyes
    I explained to them I didn’t know why

    Didn’t know why I ended up here
    Left of center, west of Adelaide
    They lead me to their home, I had made
    I asked them about the creatures on the way

    The scary ones that could kill me any day
    Like the spiders and snakes, oddly enough
    I wasn’t worried about the salt water crocs
    I have heard of the jellyfish in the shape of a box

    They told me I had nothing to fear
    That the danger wasn’t that near
    But this movie suddenly became foggy
    My restlessness made me groggy

    Where was a phone, a phone, a phone
    I wanted to call home, my home, my mom
    Suddenly it was all gone, all gone, all gone
    The reality of daylight’s dawn

    Kelly stirring in her crate, breakfast wont be late
    Her brother insistent too, their meal overdue
    I had to take the trash out too
    This oddity, Odyssey, sadly finally through.

    Mom, mom, mom, I wish I could talk to you.

    I had a dream where I woke up in a college dorm room full of cockroaches, don’t ask me why. I fled outside and found myself somewhere in Australia, but couldn’t figure out where. In reality I have been to Australia, just not Adelaide. But in this dream I kept on asking people where I was, and they kept on saying I was slightly west of Adelaide. I was also worried about getting a hold of my mom because I didn’t want her to worry. In real life my mom would get worried if I didn’t call her the instant I got home.

    So in this dream I panic about the dangerous animals as the family is guiding me back to their house. In reality animals don’t bother you unless you go looking for trouble. So finally we get to the house, and I start hearing rustling in a cage, and in reality it was Kelly trying to wake me up because she wanted out of her carrier, and her brother Anneplath was making noise too. Today is trash day too. So I never did get to talk to my mom in the dream. When I woke up, it made me sad knowing she has been gone for 6 years.

    The city of Adelaide is at the bottom of Australia not quite the center of the country.

  • Barrage Balloons

    Barrage Balloons, by Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37)

    The airborne ships tethered tips
    Unmanned shields floating above
    Deliberate obstructions put in place
    Used to slowdown the Nazi’s pace

    Dive bombers it gave fits
    Steal cables attached to it
    Razor blades to enemy wings
    Wrapped around crashing things

    Now the Nazis live again
    Though they hide in different name
    Attacking minorities is their game
    LGBTQ and drag queens too

    Lets be their barrage balloons
    The bully MAGAS cannot win
    When their allies protect them
    Make the bigots history again.

    If you ever watch WW2 footage of the landing of D-DAY, and you notice blimps floating above the ships. Those were used to discourage dive bombing and force enemy fighter aircraft to attack from higher altitude making them less effective.

    This poem is basically a call to LGBTQ and drag queen allies to raise our voices.

  • Not a poem, but an OP/ED

    I cannot know how it is to be a target of hate that LGBTQ go through and especially not transgender. But I just saw an MSNBC/NBC story that gives me hope, that most of America does not agree with the MAGA right, once again, on yet another issue.

    While this isn’t an NBC poll, this Forbs article does reflect the average same numbers. 80% of American SUPPORT protections for LGBTQ in regards to things like jobs and housing. “Including 66% of Republicans”, according to this article.

    Just like firearms, the MAGA right are behind most of the rest of the nation. MAGA Trump republicans love to shout about how much they love freedom, and bitch about “cancel culture” but are doing everything they can to deny the human dignity to LGBTQ minorities.


  • This Round Is On Me

    This Round Is On Me, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    I was in a run
    In a frenzied scurry
    Trying to avoid bears
    That could potentially eat me

    I ended up on rice
    Translucent as jellyfish
    Salmon swimming upstream
    This round is on me

    I could be in the Meadowlands
    Rooting for the Giants or Jets
    And maybe at a baseball game
    City Field rooting on the Mets

    I could be at an office party
    Everyone smiling and jolly
    While they sit on the copying machine
    Bet you think that is funny

    I could be at a beach resort
    Surrounded by tiki torches
    Hula dancers shaking hips
    This round is on me

    One evening my friend and I
    Ended up at Bennigans
    We ordered our usual drinks
    And this is what happened

    Two more drinks
    Landed at our table
    We were a bit confused
    Because these we didn’t order

    The waiter pointed across the bar
    To a man sitting alone
    “These are on him”, the waiter said
    He had bought us another round

    We smiled and waved
    But I couldn’t let it go
    I went over to his table
    To thank him for the round

    I invited him to sit with us
    After what he did for us
    “Come over to our table”
    I didn’t sense his trouble

    He collected his jacket
    His keys, his glass
    Redirected the waiter
    To the new table, his order

    Initial common banter
    “What is your name
    What do you do?
    Nice to meet you”

    His balloon became barren
    Our shot glasses like goldfish
    Went down with our gulping
    The next round was on us

    His wit withered slowly
    His smile he had initially
    Slithered out of our booth
    Though his body never left

    Swirling his near empty glass
    Raised his hand like a kid in class
    To get the waiter’s attention
    He wanted it filled again

    What was he filling it with
    Where did the other guy go
    His shoulders now slumped
    His head bowed in sorrow

    “What is wrong?”
    Our voiced of concern
    Hesitant he said
    “I don’t want to talk about it”

    But we couldn’t help it
    We wanted to know
    How he could go from 80mph
    To dead stop zero

    It turned out to be his father
    Retired cop turned investor
    Made tons of money
    He lavished on his son

    “You have everything”
    We said, “You should be happy”
    I patted him on the back
    But that didn’t seem to help

    “You don’t get it”, he responded
    His eyes swelled with tears
    “I could be standing right next to him
    But a million miles a way it feels”

    I could be in a stadium
    I could be at a party
    I could be with dozens of people
    And still feel isolated and lonely

    The rivulets
    Spidered down his face
    Dried up over his red flush face
    He wiped his tears, took a deep breath

    Sighed and resigned
    At almost closing time
    Last call had arrived, he said
    “This round is on me”.

    This is about a real encounter with a guy at a bar back in the 90s who bought a round for everyone at the bar. We invited him to our table, and at first he was cheery but that slowly melted away and it came out that he was depressed that he couldn’t have a close relationship with his father the way he wanted. His father’s idea of love was giving money and material things to him, but this guy wanted a deeper relationship with his dad, one with sensitivity and listening and understanding and companionship.

    The first two stanzas are me feeling my own want of escape away from work and stress and wanting to escape the rat race like a salmon wanting not to be sushi or be caught in the bear jaws of life.

    The rest of the stanzas are about him, but also having that feeling of isolation even in big crowds like at sporting events are backyard parties. I wrote this poem originally a few years ago.

    “His balloon became barren” , “balloon” is a type of bar glass that you would put say a brandy or wine in.

  • Children’s Bible

    Children’s Bible, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    The MAGA wing scared of rainbows
    And beer cans and Target’s cloths
    Have no problem with Hooters
    And Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders

    And when you go to the doctors office
    There’s always a children’s bible somewhere
    With cute stories about Noah saving his family
    And saving two of all other cute species

    Spurious it would seem to me, to call the Bible
    “The Good Book”, funny how they leave out
    The graphic parts, like Lot and his daughters
    Or David and Philistine foreskins, as a dowery

    They are worried about rainbows
    When on both coasts at the beach
    We see skin all the time, and nobody
    Thinks kids seeing that is sexualizing anything

    Moms, I am quite sure, go into the Walmart
    With their little boys, into the women’s underwear
    To shop for themselves, I’ve seen the packaging
    Passing by to the men’s section

    Lacy and some thin and some boosting
    And I am sure dads take their little girls
    Down the men’s isle where they see
    Men in boxer’s and briefs on the packaging

    But these same MAGA republicans
    Are worried about a rainbow?
    This isn’t about a rainbow
    This is about buying into fear

    Buying into bigotry, being insecure.
    Let me clue you in MAGA
    You cannot be magically turned gay
    You cannot be magically turned lesbian

    And there is no
    Junk slicing
    Of kids
    Unless you are Catholic or Jewish.

  • For Your Consideration

    For Your Consideration, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    One may ask
    What is the reason
    The poet puts pen to paper
    The response is your reaction
    The thoughts invoked in the action
    Of our putting pen to paper
    It is our adventure
    One for you to discover
    Words for you to devour
    Fill your mind with wonder
    Fill your mind with horror
    Feel the flames of a lover
    Give you a place to wander
    Something for you to consider.

  • Oh What A Louse

    Oh What A Louse, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    Cymothoa exigua, eats L. Lingua G. Glossa
    Cut your tongue out, the cat’s already got it
    You’ve been told before, bite and hold it
    But these skeptical fishes don’t buy it

    If you are a sucker, and swallow it
    It won’t give you a Columbian neck tie
    But it will, speak and eat for you, tell every little lie
    Indoctrinated at birth, less likely to ask why

    A parasite’s paradise, unwanted French kiss
    The man of the cloth from the pulpit
    His ancient predecessors stole the obelisk
    In St Peter’s square is now where it sits

    He’s the middle man, insight he insists
    Your palate is cleaned, symbolic cannibalism
    Unleavened wafer, he sticks in your mouth
    Morality, morality, he pontificates about

    It is too late, he’s dictated your meal
    Council of Nicaea, cemented the deal
    The three headed figure, is now your trident
    Ventriloquist pews in which you sit

    Cymothoa exigua, dines in your jaws
    Recites in dead language, ancient King James laws
    Let us offer a sign of good reasoning , better skepticism
    Is a great seasoning.

    (DISCLAIMER) I am an ex Catholic. Now yes, this poem is extremely blasphemous. But it is strictly about bad logic, and early childhood indoctrination into any religion. I just happened to write about my former religion in this poem. It is not advocating violence towards Catholics, or anyone at all. It is arguing that religion in general does make moral claims about the nature of reality, with no evidence whatsoever that that a particular sect has a patent on morality.

    The other point of this poem is that it is ok to think for yourself and to consider that you do not need a holy person to figure out right or wrong. The Pope has no more power over anyone than the person is allowing the Pope to have over them.

    I do believe outside my skepticism, that if someone is in need of help, say they’ve been in a car accident, everyone would agree, the labels go out the window, the debate goes out the window, and you stop and help that injured person in distress. Humans always deserve the dignity of care in distress.

    This poem is strictly about bad use of logic and where our species morality really comes from.

    “Cymothoa exigua” is a parasite that invades the mouth of a fish, whom accidentally mistakes it for food. The parasite will cling to it’s tongue eating it, and living in the fish’s mouth eating the food that should go to the fish. In many cases, this does not kill the host fish.

    “L. Lingua G. Glossa” is the scientific name for the tongue.

    An “Obelisk” is a type of shape, like that of the Washington Monument in D.C. There is an Egyptian Obelisk in the middle of St. Peter’s square that was originally stolen from Egypt by the Emperor Caligula and placed on a nearby hilltop. Eventually the early church took it down off that hilltop and made it a monument in the middle of St. Peter’s square.

    I am arguing for people to speak for themselves instead of letting someone speak for them.

    This is what the parasite looks like.

  • Okay Atheists Poetry night on Discord recording 5/22/23

    With the help of @Zaylen99 who runs the Okay Atheists show on the Discord app. And special reading by Zaylen99 and @derickijohnson. This recording is available to listen to on Youtube at the following link. Special shout out to Creative Chick and Luminous.


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