• Welcome to Brian James Rational Poet’s poetry blog

    Welcome to my brand new 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.



  • You Think I’m Being Mean?

    You Think I’m Being Mean, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    Your gaslighting
    Is mastery
    When I destroy

    Your mythology
    Suddenly you go from bully
    To “please don’t pick on me”

    Ever so the narcissist
    You think it is about you
    When the reality is

    I reject all the claims
    Of humanity, in that of
    Claims of all deities

    You start off
    Acting kind
    With your pleasantries

    You try
    To confound me
    With mysteries

    Which I see
    Really as your

    In such

    In ancient language
    Long since dead
    Somehow still

    It’s stuck in your head
    From the age of toddler
    Thus you’ve been fed

    You never had
    Much of a chance
    Your brain a sponge

    They filled it with
    Pretty farm animals
    And big giant boats

    They glossed it over
    Hid the horrible notes
    Of infanticide, genocide

    Females as prizes
    The bounty of wars
    Concubine and chattel

    Treated like cattle
    Oh and Saul/Paul
    It’s the same guy

    It is in
    The same book
    That I didn’t write

    David wanted
    Himself a wife
    He went to Saul

    Asked what was the price
    He wanted his daughter
    To make him his wife

    Saul told him
    “This would be nice
    100 Philistine foreskins

    Shall be the price
    For my daughter’s dowery
    To make her your wife”

    And this is just one
    Of many horrors
    In that convoluted

    Book belabored
    Kids mauled by bears
    Egyptian first born too

    To please you
    Oh mighty God

    I’m being mean?
    It would so seem
    That humans you thus deem

    To be mere toys
    Lab rats, props
    In your vile

    Violent play
    Where those
    Who don’t obey

    Are beaten
    In genocidal manor
    And kids collateral damage

    This is the book
    You want me to follow
    This is the god to which

    You want me to grovel
    This vengeful beast
    Who does not seem

    To take criticism well
    He smashes his toys
    And burns them all in hell.

    I am not being mean
    To call a myth a myth
    A lie I lie

    I am not being mean
    If I suggest you try
    To think for yourself

    On reason to rely
    Its a much better path
    For to look at life

    With out a bribe
    Without a threat
    Without any fear

    I am not being mean by pointing out to believers, that while I know they find comfort in that book, they are very convenient in skipping over the not so pretty parts, like infanticide, genocide, child abuse, incest, and human flesh as a dowery for payment for a female.

    Would anyone find comfort in Santa if Santa said, ” Rudolph, you can be the lead deer, but for you go get that position, you have to cut the balls off 100 Hindus. <——- Total nonsense meaningless example right?

    But why are people getting upset at me for something I was not around to write. Saul/Paul is just one example. Killing off the Egyptian firstborn, mauling kids using bears. Forcing the rape victim to marry their rapist. There are countless examples of this God character in the bible who is cruel, brutally cruel, even to his most innocent and loyal followers. Job is another example.

    But the two biggest acts this God commits are the global genocide of the flood, and the global genocide of the end times. And in both of these examples there would have to have been innocent pregnant women, babies, toddlers, teens and even adults, whose only crime was not belonging to the correct god club.

    How am I being mean by suggesting someone can do better than what amounts to an old book of tribalism that is used to justify feeling superior to others?

    I would suggest that the real cruelty is perpetuating old mythology which is stagnant and does not allow thoughts to change and especially morality to change.

  • I hate to say it.

    I hate to say it, but these two little buggers, snots, thing one and thing two, frick and frack, these guys are making me so happy. But they are also distracting me to the point where I cannot write poetry. I don’t feel sorry for myself in the least, but it is annoying I cant focus and haven’t been inspired for days. I still love them, and most certainly am going to keep them. They are too lovable and adorable. But damn it, I want to write some poetry.

  • Don’t Make Any Plans

    Don’t Make Any Plans, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet On FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    Want to go to the louvre
    Forget going out for hors d’oeuvres
    Your life is not yours

    Don’t ask me
    To write any prose
    Because who knows

    What these little paws
    Are going to be up to
    Bouncing off the walls

    Slam tackling NFL sacks
    Forget getting up for
    Midnight snacks

    For if they’re sleeping
    I cannot be moving
    For I won’t be disturbing

    These little buttons
    With their furry mittens
    They’re are not kittens

    I am their minion
    Their slave, their obedient

    So sorry Silvia
    I want to finish
    The Bell Jar

    But these two felines
    Won’t let me get that far
    I can’t take my eyes off them

    They get themselves in trouble
    When they are not sleeping
    They are pro wrestling

    Each other, and I am the reff
    Fur up to my neck
    But they are tiny specks

    Attacking my feet in socks
    I can’t tell them to knock it off
    Their playfulness is the cost

    In complete control over me
    That wasn’t the plan at all
    My pleasant downfall

    I promise I will write some more new serious stuff at some point. But right now these little furry Higgs Boson particles are a handful and taking all of my attention right now.

    When they are not bouncing off the walls and NFL sacking each other like linebackers or pro wrestlers. They are intwined in my feet attacking my socks. Or they are paralyzing me in my bed by lying on top of me, or under my legs to the point I don’t want to move because they are sleeping contently.

    It has been a long time since I have been this happy. I have Vicki, my cab driver to thank for giving me Kelly and Anneplath.

  • Can’t move.

  • Puddy Papers

    Puddy Papers, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    Professor Kingsfield
    Knew nothing
    About the laws

    Of tiny little furballs
    Nor could Anne
    Have imagined the papers

    My puddy’s chase
    And when they run
    Out of energy

    They corner me
    In my bed
    Kelly sleeps on my side

    Anneplath head of the class
    The real professor
    Of the Ivy Tail white tip

    Not even freshmen
    Their prose the law
    Sexton never saw

    Not ambulance chasers
    Better than
    The Jesus Papers

    They know of which
    Of my leavers
    To get me to

    Give them vittles
    Then they sleep
    While they cuddle

    So if you ever
    Need a Lawyer
    Or a poet

    They’re your trouble
    Fun is fun
    On the double.

    This is a hybrid poem playing off the title of a short lived legal show “The Paper Chase”. And off of Anne Sexton’s poems called “The Jesus Papers”, but is in total reference to my two new kittens.

    Professor Kingsfield was a character in a fictional Ivy League college. He was played by British actor John Houseman.

    And Anneplath, my kitten, has a bright ivory white tip, thus that line.
    And they cuddle together when I put them in the carrier to sleep. And they own me for sure. They wrote the law of poetry on feline cuteness.

  • Puddys vs Goliath

    Puddys vs Goliath, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    You’d think a guy
    Could sit and try
    To have a bowl of cereal

    At midnight
    But Anneplath
    And Kelly

    Also wanted to fill
    Their belly and climbed
    Up the side of me

    Pin needle claws
    Doesn’t matter
    How small

    Doesn’t matter
    How tall
    They wanted to get

    To the bowl
    I was laughing
    Couldn’t eat at all

    They clung
    To the side of me
    Like little thistles

    Centimeters long
    They had the druthers
    Mountain climbing masters

    They knew
    What they were

    Snorting milk
    Through my nose
    With all that laughter

    Little tiny meows
    Were the nails
    In my coffin

    “You win, you win!”
    I put the bowl down
    Went to the kitchen

    And opened a tin
    Of wet food
    I’m a weak dude

    A pushover,
    They know who
    Is in charge

    It isn’t the big
    The tall
    The large

    I have no chance
    They do their dance
    They know in advance

    I’m their servant
    They own me
    They won the war.

    Anneplath and Kelly wouldn’t let me eat my bowl of cereal. They kept trying to climb up my shirt digging into it clinging to me like thistles. I’d put them on the floor and they would climb up my sweatpants legs and up my shirt again. And of course meowing at the same time. I was laughing so hard. I finally gave up and opened up a can of cat food to get them off my back. They own me. Lovable, redorable, but I know who is in charge and it isn’t me.

  • Patience

    Patience, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    The fashion fur ball
    And the poets saw
    My hoodie hanging

    The string dangling
    The didn’t need
    A Sony Play Station

    But they’d meow
    Their tummies would growl
    Then they’d need

    To relieve themselves
    And that there is
    Where my patience begins

    I can handle it when
    They meow and meow
    And it never ends

    Sleep what is that
    Just like kids
    Bounce off the walls

    Midnight calls
    Then they have to
    Do what we all do

    But they haven’t
    Figured out where
    Their powder room is.

    Wet spot here
    Package there
    Beware, beware

    A mess it is
    But I don’t mind
    They’re too damned cute

    They’re figure it out
    In time, but in the meantime
    No sleep till Brooklyn

    Fortunately I have vinyl flooring and it is easy to clean. My kitties haven’t figured out the litterbox yet. But the fun part in the meantime is that they have really adapted to the house in just one day. They are running round bouncing off the walls right now 2:30am. But I am laughing my ass off. I already have insomnia so at least this is a fun way to have it.

    The only thing I worry about since they are so small is falling asleep with them on the bed and either trying to jump off, I think it is too high up for them right now. And or accidentally rolling over on them.

    So for now if I feel sleepy I put them in their carrier. I plan on getting a big pet cage for them. Other than that they are uber adorable and I can be a prouder daddy right now.

  • Pidder Weapon 2, Cuteness Day

    Action adventure: Kittens Anneplath takes the lead in about to sleep mode, while Kelly is backup. Always bet on black and calicos.

  • Pidders(<–pidder) of my two puddy monsters.

    The black one on top is Anneplath. The calico on the bottom is Kelly. Sorry for the blurry pidder. This is the best I can do right now.


    My puddy monsters Anneplath and Kelly are here. They are siblings. It didn’t take them long to start running around and playing. Looks like they are going to adjust well.

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