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

Surrender to a conspiracy
You black ravens hide in night’s shadow
Leather and spikes in the dungeon
Vesiputous rumbling silently stalking
Indigenous beasts on my flesh feeding
At 2 A.M. the owls are plotting

Pleased night light spotlight
Left dimming in the grey fog’s blocking
And cloaking maddening screaming
The darkness sightless shrill of nothing
Help will not be coming

Cunning and stealthy
Underworld’s authority
The Amityville horror

Slippery stumbling over dead bodies
You are the M.E. writing the autopsies
Lecherous gnashing of fangs waiting
Voraciously nocturnal never sleeping
In front of you, arms, that of a zombie
Allegory, it’s the bat’s cave now

Plato lost his apology
Last is the hemlock Socrates drinks
At least it is over, no more pain agonies
The dawn reveals vultures
Hovering over my carcass.
(end)

This is a Sylvia Plath inspired poem. It is a take off of her poem title only, “The Applicant”. No relationship to the content of her poem, just an ode to her title “The Applicant”.

An applicant to a job, of course has an interviewer, thus the the “Interviewer” part of my title.

For those who do not know an “Acrostic poem” is where the first letter of each line of a stanza, going downwards, spells something. In my case “Sylvia Plath” then my favorite poem of hers “cut” then back to “Sylvia Plath”.

But as far as the context of my poem “Acrostic Interviewer”, as I said, only an ode to her title. This poem I wrote in late September or early October one year as a Halloween motif poem for the season. It is basically your typical haunted foggy woods in the middle of the night hearing scary noises. “Cut” is my favorite Silvia Plath poem and hey, what flesh doesn’t get cut in a Halloween story.

Arthur, Arthur, By Brian 37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

Not the Pacific rim
Maybe 1400 baud
Your Orca on acid
Barnacles on your hull

Or was that shrooms
The lighthouse melted
Quint bitten in half
Cleat hitch knot looms

Your word stock far from placid
Leaves me confused
I look in your galley
For highest proof of booze

Frenzied whitecaps
On the north shore
Mother of pearl foam
Tube slams you on the deck

The scuba diver shocked
You’ve smashed against the rocks
Whiskey in the glass
Briny coral bleached

Was it LSD
Or CUSH in a bong
Port red and starboard green
Doldrums midday sun

Your sextant is broken
The constellations are useless
Cloud cover leaves you sightless
Adrift in nighttime raging rain

Sheets and sheets relentless
Batty-cry charge in darkness
Crack and boom and lightening
Will your ship be sinking?

The barber pole on the cliff
Is supposed to guide you in
But the blinding tempest
Will never be your friend

The mast broke in half
Leaving you tumbling
Jostling, rumbling
Lumbering, listing

The sea’s a mosh pit
The ballast wobbling
Swaying, nauseating
Leaving port regretting

Suddenly in a sweat
The sunlight hit your face
You blocked your eyes with your hand
Now you were awake

As smooth as a glass
No ripples, no wakes
Seemed like your nightmare
Went on for weeks and weeks

Did Brody pound
The junction cable
After the claw
Tugged it out of the water?

Tapped you on the shoulder
Did that psychotic soothsayer
Fleece you of your Franc marks
And tell you the nightmare was over?
(end)

I wrote this poem a few years ago, but this is the first time I posted it here in this blog.

This poem was my response to a famous poem by poet Arthur Rimbaud called “The Drunken Boat”. Although Rimbaud used rivers as his metaphor for the struggles of life and the battle between being unbridled and societal conformity, I chose to use mainly the sea.

I took his poem as a conflict between the rat race of society and conformity and feeling of isolationism in wanting to be liberated and be himself and not fitting into society causing him anguish, being the rough “rivers” but also the exhilaration of non conformity and abandon, being able to be free from responsibility.

Rimbaud was an alcoholic and also did hashish. Rimbaud believed that by doing this it would expand his mind and thus make him a better poet. I neither advise people to do drugs nor do I judge people who do them.

My response poem is more about the bombardment “rough seas”, being others expecting conformity and having a hard time navigating life, but in the end you realize others nightmares do not have to be yours although one feels robbed of time wasted on the expectations of others and waking up to know it is ok to be you.

Disclaimer: I am sober, have been for over a year now. I would not advise doing LSD or shrooms, I did, and while I was ok, I did see others have very bad trips. And as far as pot, although I never really got into it, I did do it a few times, I think it should be legal, but not high while driving. Older and wiser, while having fun was fun, it can also get you into a lot of trouble or destroy your organs, like I did. Just moderate and it is also ok to have fun without getting intoxicated.

And if you feel you are having problems with any substance, don’t try to handle it yourself to stop, get support, talk to a trusted family or friend, and there are secular sobriety help without all the religious crap attached. Just google search “secular sobriety”.

Fuck you to anyone who falsely wants to accuse me of being a Communist or loving Marx or Stalin or Hitler or Castro or Po Pot or Mao. FUCK YOU.

Being a liberal to me, means valuing diversity. Not bullying others. Valuing livable wages, unions, affordable health care, keeping social security and Medicare solvent. It means ending corporate monopolies and taxing billionaires more. NOT THE MIDDLE OR WORKING CLASS, just billionaires. It does not mean ending the private sector. It means giving workers a voice in government, not more power, just an equal check on power.

It means that females are entitled to control their own bodies. We are not the Taliban and we should not be forcing females to give birth.

It means valuing our military, not valuing a political party oath to be in the military. It means taking care of our veterans when they get home. It means standing up for our allies. It means standing up to bullies like COMMUNIST TRAINED KGB SPY PUTIN and DICTATOR KIM JONG UN.

I am not going to tolerate anyone falsely accusing me of loving dictators. FUCK YOU.

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

The moon
Bone white jeweler
Looking down
At this sapphire
No monocle
Back and forth
It floats.
Is it envy
That causes
It’s sarcastic smile
And all the while
We put in all that toil
In hopes
Of a love to spoil
Only to end in soil
We can talk of pain
In in that old refrain
To fear not
The sun will rise again.
Is not to make a plan
Only to savor the moment
In that it happened at all.
(end)

This poem was inspired by The Creative Chick and her poem “Luminous”.

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

Billy Joel was wrong
We did start the fire
Once we were cognitive
Once we were aware

This planet cannot bear
We have no excuse
Estranged, obtuse
Unwilling to call a truce

Headed towards a cliff
A victim of our success
Invasive species pest
We haven’t done our best

To care for our only home
No planet B to go
Oil companies grow
Cataclysm we will sew

Hornets on the road
Dodging the facts
CO2 reacts
Atmosphere heat it traps

Poverty globally
Billionaires cannot see
Common humanity
Profits to decree

Prophets the holy claim
They are all the same
It’s a con game
All others they will blame

And this tiny rock
Falling around the sun
5 billion years from now
It will all be done

I see the wasted good
The compassion within
Our potential empathy
We withhold true charity

It isn’t about money
Or sucking on a teat
Our corners we retreat
We never admit defeat

Invincible we are not
Fragile is our lot
Lets extend the ride
We are all we’ve got.
(end)

Sometimes national news and world news gets me depressed. I know my species has so much good and potential in us. But somehow the bullies and authoritarians and greed seem to take the stage and headline more often than not. I still see good in humanity, for the other option is insanity. I have no choice if I want to stay mentally healthy. But it is difficult sometimes.

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

Why?
Please tell me why?
You want your pie
Even if it means I die?

Look out your window
Look up at that sky
See all that sleet and snow
It’s not safe for me to drive

Oh you want me
To ignore the thunderstorm
And and the hurricane
You want me to do the insane

I saw you at Walmart
In the news clips
Emptying the shelves
Not leaving one bit

You have canned foods
I know you do
You have chips and beer
The ice cooler too

I can’t imagine
Working in Hawaii
Near Kilauea
That pizza won’t save you

“Where is my pizza
I ordered it
A nanosecond ago
Get it to me, before the lava flow”.

Want to hear what they say
After you hang up the phone?
“Fuck you asshole
I’m not delivering to your home.”
(end)

Point being, don’t be fucking dicks to delivery workers. Even without weather events, sometimes in high volume these places can be short staffed, through no fault of the driver, but management, especially franchise and corporate shouting at the store manager to save every dime.

I once had a guy yell at me because his pizza was late. I tried to tell him on my prior delivery that I thought someone’s house was on fire and I wanted to wait until the fire department got there. Seriously, we have become a nation of self intitled selfish fucks. What is wrong with learning patience?

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

Sometimes the mundane
Catches up to the malefactor
Like Capone on tax evasion
It is not full justice
But it is some justice
It just is, the former guy
Got away with so much
For so long, doing wrong
Taught by a cold dad
Who was a slumlord
Whom Woody Guthrie
Sang about kicking an old lady
Out of her home
Taught him, that winning
Was the only thing
Stepping on others
The weaker, the bully
He became
With cheap fame
On a media bus
He inadvertently
Confessed, grab them
Because you can
Sorry Donald
No you cant
(end)

Trump lost his civil suit in the sexual assault case. He is to pay Jean Carroll 5 million dollars.

No More Memorials, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

The toe tags
The body bags
The flooded market
That we have

Crosses don’t
Bring back the dead
Stand up to the NRA
Instead

Up and down
The flags go
Thoughts and prayers
With nothing to show

Candlelight vigils
After the fact
Are not prevention
Before the act

400 million
Firearms
All the mass shootings
Sound the alarms

Save your flowers
And your wreaths
Save your condolences
We won’t be meek

Crosses don’t
Bring back the dead
Stand up to the NRA
Instead

If we are
To honor the dead
If we want to
Stop the red

Get out of bed
With the beast
The sellers of fear
On which they feast

Crosses don’t
Bring back the dead
Stand up to the GOP
Instead

Makers, sellers
Shops as well
You won’t bully us
With the weapons you sell

Crosses don’t
Bring back the dead
Stand up to the lobbies
Instead

Shopping, movies
Going to school
Should not end up
In a blood of pool

Memorials mean nothing
If we do nothing
They are hollow gestures
When the violence festers

Crosses don’t
Bring back the dead
Stand up to the selfish
Instead.

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

Yesterday
I saw video
Of a child’s brains
Splattered on the sidewalk

I don’t want to hear talk
Of this cosmic security guard
Who is allegedly always
On guard

Yet this happens
Day after day
Wasn’t that nice of Jesus
To give your mother cancer

Is “mysterious ways”
Really an honest answer?
When the plane crashes
And all aboard are dashes

When a serial killer slashes
The throats of many
And how handy is he
Up there looking down

With folded arms
Watching us squirm
Like we are germs
In a Petrie dish

They grovel
For his affection
Always trying, guessing
How to avoid his wrath

Amidst the bloodbath
That he selectively watches
And does what he wishes
While wars and violent clashes

The pyre of flesh in masses
I cannot see the logic in this
How anyone of compassion
Could argue and insist

This peek a boo deity
That never seems to be
Clear to everybody
But one of convenience

One who just happens to
Love the same people
You do, hate the same people
You do

Yet the death never stops
It is with us every day
I cannot buy an all loving God
With the observations I make

No, it isn’t a real being
That I am railing against
It is the horrible horrible logic
Of this omni deadbeat guessed

A gap answer
Plopped in out of pain
Plopped in out of fear
Not wanting the end near.

I say these horrible events
Are not solved by superstition
Or fictional beings, but by study
Education, and compassion

In reducing suffering
No bible need to do this
Empathy
Has always been in us.
(end)

I get so tired of people claiming an all loving being exists, especially after seeing what I saw online with the shooting in Texas where a kid’s brains were splattered on the ground. But not just that, even things like cancer, or natural disasters, bacteria, lots of deadly things we try to avoid on a daily basis.

I am not angry at a fictional being anymore than one is angry at Darth Vader. It is the logic that does not make sense to me and no “mysterious ways” is a cop out excuse and a dodge. If we as a species are to solve our ills it will be us, not a fictional being, that will do it.

Not a poem. But between the follow websites I calculated the following:

https://usafacts.org/data/topics/security-safety/crime-and-justice/firearms/firearm-deaths/

And

http://www.gunviolencearchive.org

I calculated the rough total of firearm deaths of all types since 1981. That figure comes out to be 1,438,566 firearm deaths, roughly. The last two years however, the data of suicides on GVA is not complete. But between the two websites it is accurate.

To put that in perspective, there have been more civilian deaths from use of firearms than all our soldiers who died in wars WW1 up until now. If anyone reading this finds that number acceptable, FUCK YOU!