Brian37 AKA Brian James Rational Poet…… My Poetry

  • 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 RationalPoet@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. You may not publish individual poems without my express permission. Any links to my poetry must be credited to me.

    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.

    HEADS UP….. THERE ARE PEOPLE MIMICKING MY TWITTER ACCOUNTS……

    I only have two Twitter/X accounts. Twitter has now changed it’s name to “X”. So all poetry in this site referencing Twitter is also including the new name “X”.

    “RationalPoet@brianrrs37”
    AND
    “Brian@rationalpoet37”

    I have also joined Facebook/META poetry group “Facebook Poetry Society” Under “Brian James Rational Poet”

    Also I just joined http://www.allpoetry.com under the user name “RationalPoet37”

    THERE ARE MORE PAGES. WHEN YOU GET TO THE BOTTOM OF EACH PAGE, in mice print….. It says “Next Page”. <—-CLICK ON THAT.

    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
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_ikCkc7lWE

    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.

    UPDATE EDIT AS OF 11/13/2024. I have a new account at Bluesky Soical under the handle @rationalpoet37.bsky.social .

     

     

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  • This Outsider

     This Outsider, (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)
     

    He’s always on “your” side
    Isn’t he? Most certainly, definitely
    Forget the adversary, who says the same

    How confident you are, willing to kill
    Unwilling to see, your adversary will
    Kill you too, through and through

    The ravings of antiquity, in tribal states
    Devine right of kings, get you to follow their fate
    And they hand their hate, down to you

    Mesopotamia has these three
    Knives cut throats so easily
    Books justify their actions properly

    That dove scurries and hides
    From all of you, seeking the submission
    Of others who, don’t follow you

    The caldron of confidence is obvious to
    This outsider, who wants nothing to do
    With your petty gods, who cannot do

    Without enraging you, and you kill
    Hoping it will, finally get you, everything
    You hoped for, your honor is due

    But it never does, does it? Endless wars
    In his name, the battle of insecurities
    This deity blames, it all on you

    He is the parent with 3 kids who
    Sticks swords in their hands, and
    Demands you stab,  put them on a slab

    And the last one standing, gets to
    Hang out with you, somewhere above
    What a reward this is, is it not?

    You win the grand prize, all others are lost
    Thrown in the pyre, at his pleasure
    You did his bidding, and you feel better

    So take your knife, take your gun
    Start your holy war, have some fun
    But me, this outsider, I am done. 
     (End)

    I always stipulate that I believe most people are good. But unfortunately our species is also tribal and religion is the biggest cause of war throughout human history.

    A Twitter follower of my calling himself “ZacksMind” said this

    QUOTE @ZachsMind “The perceived good of religion does not excuse the bad that is evident. Anything good or bad that can arguably be credited to religion can also be accomplished secularly. We. Don’t. Need. Religion. At best it’s redundant. At worst, it excuses suffering.” END QUOTE.

    I agree. We see other species convey acts of empathy and compassion and unfortunately cruelty too. To say because we can build sky scrapers and create cures for disease does not negate that we can also rape, and murder and create nuclear bombs. We are the only species that is capable of inducing our own worldwide destruction knowingly.

    To think that there is a super hero in the sky that cares for us, but lets us suffer, and blames us for our own suffering, and cherry picks who lives or dies, and ultimately we still die anyway, seems inefficient and ham fisted and selective and arbitrary.

    But when one takes the idea of a super hero out of the story we call life, it forces us as a species to solve our own problems. It also takes away the excuse to use religion as a justification to oppress others.

    I do not say this as a call to force the end of religion, as if I could or wanted to. It is simply a call to reason, a call to consider that maybe you only think you need religion.

    I would argue that if one is willing to admit someone outside their religion/sect can be good and do good, that they should consider that religion isn’t doing the good, the individual is and simply attaches it to a religion.




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  • Helmholtz Resonance

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


    The discarded bottleneck
    Tipped and spun 
    Unbeknownst to me
    It’s opening cavity 

    Declined
    And stopped it’s speed
    It’s final resting spot
    Over the floor’s air duct

    Everything collecting dust
    Half eaten this, a discarded that
    But that was nothing new to me
    Slowly, carelessly, and eventually

    One snowflake, then another
    But I didn’t bother
    I’d get to cleaning eventually
    But the whiteout snuck up on me

    My crowed subway
    No standing or sitting room
    All occupied by slovenly
    The roaches gleeful gluttony

    Everest sized Hefty Bags
    The linebackers had long since
    Broke through the line
    Brutally self inflicted penalty 

    I’d become
    The garbage collector
    With no way
    To haul it away

    Then suddenly
    An annoying noise
    Whispering humming baritone
    Nagging and pestering my auditory  

    Coming from everywhere
    High ceilings
    Vinyl flooring
    Minimal insulation

    Soundwaves ghostly bouncing 
    I paced around to find the sound
    That was playing hide and seek 
    Bedeviled beleaguered frustrated

    I almost called in a panic
    Someone to fix my H-VAC
    Mistaking the source
    It was the bottle of course

    The vent blew air over it’s cavity.
    (end)

    “Helmholtz resonance” is the sound produced when air travels over a cavity of some sort, like when you blow over the top of an empty bottle or jug.

    I am on the wagon now, have been for a little over a year now. I was also a hoarder. I let my house go, trash and food bits everywhere. One day I had dropped a bottle and it landed on the floor and the neck top ended up over the floor vent. But because I couldn’t see it, and because of my high ceilings and hard vinyl floor and very little furniture, everything I do echo’s in the house, so the low and noticeable hum from the bottle I could not see, bounced everywhere in the house and I eventually thought my heating air unit or AKA “H-VAC” was broken. I almost called the repair man but at the last second I spotted the bottle.

    The “snowflake” and “whiteout” are not metaphor for cocaine use. The hardest drugs outside alcohol I did was pot, and LSD, but that was back when I was a teen, and I stopped pot in college, and that was over 23 years ago and I haven’t even touched that. I stopped drinking a year ago.

    By “snowflake” and “whiteout” I simply mean losing track of a buildup and not accepting the impending overwhelming size of my hording, like as they say, boiling the frog slowly. My hording got to the point of not being able to see the floor, or much of it. Snowstorms can start out slow and then suddenly become intense and leave piles of buildup.

  • Critics, OP ED

    When it comes to poetry I am never a critic nor do I want people criticizing my poetry. Lots of people misunderstand why I take that position. And it isn’t because of any narcissism or insecurity. I have anxiety and suffer from depression, and can feel insecure and fear being judged. But that isn’t about my work. That is about feeling left out, bullied, awkward and I have trust issues. But again, that is not about my work. I defend both my crappy work and my good work. Here is why.

    I do not want people thinking because I don’t take criticism it means I am insecure. No, it means I am not afraid of making mistakes and letting people see my bad work. I do not dwell on trying to fix a broken car,. I simply move onto the next poem. Much like a high speed photographer will take 100 pictures, but you only see maybe 10 of them out of the lot. I simply put it all out there. If I slaved over every poem obsessively I would be paralyzed and would never be able to write at all. I would rather write 100 crappy poems to eventually get to that one that is publishable. And with all art, it only takes one.

    NOW that is not to say nobody should ever seek advice on making art. If you want advice by all means ask for it. I only say don’t force your advice on others. If they want it, give it. If they don’t ask for it, don’t give it.

    I also do not presume what others should like, or how they should write. I will always tell someone when I like something or a line here or there. But if I do not say anything, I am not saying your work is bad. Art is subjective and I do not get to tell others a work is good or bad. I can only say if I like it.

    I have lots of unknown poets on social media who have written things that blow me away, and also at the same time write other poems that I am not into or don’t like. So again, since art is subjective, I limit myself to telling someone if I like something. If they ask me for advice, I will tell them I am not the person to do that because I do not presume what other people should like or how they should write.

    I will never claim every single poem I have written is a masterpiece, only a deluded person would think that. I am simply saying that everyone I read, and including myself, will write things people get and like and at the same time write things other people may not get or may not like. That is why I do not like being a critic, nor do I seek advice myself.





  • Codswallop

    Codswallop, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    Is codswallop
    A dollop of sour cream?
    Is it a screen door
    On a submarine?

    Seems absurd
    From what I can glean
    I don’t think
    I am being mean

    Is it a taco
    Made of broken glass?
    Is it a talking donkey
    Or burning bush ash?

    Is it a man
    Living in a whale?
    Is it the hollow threats
    Of burning in hell?

    Is it a man
    Pierced in his side?
    All the blood drained out
    Until he died?

    Why is it this God
    Won’t go on Maury?
    Prove it isn’t Joseph
    Take a paternity?

    Testy testy
    You seem to me
    Why are you crying
    About blasphemy?

    If you say
    He is this boss
    If I am a toy
    That he could toss

    Out like garbage
    It would reason
    He could manage
    To fight his own battles

    What kind of damage
    Could I do to?
    This all powerful being
    How could I destroy him?

    Yet you jump in the ring
    As a third party
    To protect him
    My chances less than slim

    According to you
    I am bug squashed
    Under his shoe
    What could I do?

    Codswallop
    Are unicorns too
    Loc Ness Monster
    And Big Foots do

    Fancy the minds
    Without science review
    Yea, you can believe it
    If you want to

    But expect not of me
    To accept it as fact
    Expect not of me
    For evidence you lack

    Daises made of
    Pixy dust goo
    Codswallop
    All the way through.
    (end)


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  • Empty Space

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

    It was a conversation
    Not a NASCAR race
    Danica talked to Neil
    About the in between space

    The area of nothingness
    Between the nucleus
    And the electrons
    The baseball diamond

    One could imagine
    A pea on the infield
    Between the pitchers mound
    And third base

    Particles pass through
    Everything every day
    Ernst Rutherford
    Shocked to his dismay

    He took gold foil
    And bombarded it
    With particles to see
    How many would stick

    How many would stay
    Most went through
    He had to conclude
    That things are not as solid

    As we like to think
    Now ponder this
    Amazing fact
    If of our body atoms

    All gaps did lack
    And all that was left
    Was just the matter
    No empty space

    For anything to pass
    If you took all humans
    Today, and shrunk them down
    With out the gaps

    It may shock you
    To know this
    We’d all fit into
    The size of a peach.
    (end)

    I was just watching a video of former NASCAR driver Danica Patrick interviewing Neil deGrasse Tyson on general science matters. I was already freaked out long ago, before watching this, that a particle called “neutrino” is so small it can pass through an entire planet without hitting anything. And neutrinos are passing through your body right now as you read this. That was already pleasantly blowing my mind.

    But then he tells about this physicist Ernest Rutherford who conducted an experiment where he bombarded a extremely thin slice of gold foil to see how many particles would stick and how many would pass through. To his shock it turned out that most of the particles were passing through.

    So that made the scientific community aware that even within our own bodies most of the space between our atoms, and between our electrons and nuclei is empty. So if you eliminated all the gaps, and just left matter, in all the atoms of all the humans you could shrink our entire population down to the size of an peach. LET THAT SINK IN!

    Here is the link to that Ernest Rutherford experiment.

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geiger%E2%80%93Marsden_experiments

    And here is a link to the YouTube video.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxV92NPNy8o

    I think he said apple but still, the point is there is still far more empty in our bodies, and even in the universe than there is matter.



  • Tick Tock

    Tick Tock, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    I cant find slumber
    At this overnight hour
    Tick tock
    The time devores

    Wait a second insomnia
    The pillow my enemy
    The tv
    Incumbers

    The late night comics
    Usually put me under
    The anticipation
    Does not hinder

    It’s a minute
    Then another
    I toss and toss
    Over and over

    Those wool carriers
    Are of no help
    Fleece time from me
    No recovery

    My cats both asleep
    Dreaming of pouncing
    Tick tock
    The clock denouncing

    Pacing on
    Relentlessly
    I’m jealous
    Of their serenity

    Curled up
    Side by side
    Of my desire
    The clock wont abide

    At least they’ll rest
    And wake up fresh
    Tick tock
    This night’s a mess.
    (end)

    An obvious poem about my insomnia. I look at my cats in peaceful bliss and am jealous. Usually by trying to deliberately stay up for the late night shows I fall asleep and miss them because I am trying to stay awake, if that makes sense. But sometimes that does not work, and I end up not being able to sleep at all, but not because of the tv or anything, but anxiety for feeling stupid or feelings of being judged, even if irrational, keep me awake.

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  • Assuage

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

    The specter of shadows
    The scrutiny of others
    The worry consumes me
    The anxiety smothers

    It slithers around
    In my brain
    Gripping my attention
    I can’t assuage

    The needless distraction
    The trap has sprung
    The planted doubt
    Claims to have won

    It pesters me gleefully
    In my brain seemingly
    Gripping my attention
    I can’t assuage

    I can’t manage
    The random thoughts
    I don’t want them
    To cause more doubt

    The specter of shadows
    The scrutiny of others
    The worry consumes me
    The anxiety smothers

    Landmine garden
    I’ve grown so well
    Pestering thoughts
    On such I dwell

    I fashion a maze
    Without a pause
    I cant assuage
    The root cause

    I want it to go
    But it just grows
    The worry consumes me
    The anxiety smothers

    I try to convince myself
    I can put these feelings
    On a shelf, but they keep crawling
    On my bookshelf

    Go away, turn the page
    Stop pestering me
    Anxiety, let me assuage
    Let me breath, if only a day.

    You are the gnat
    Buzzing around in my head
    Go away
    I want you dead.
    (end)

    Sometimes I dwell in my anxiety, and it just pesters me, it is hard to shed sometimes. And the logical side of my brain knows I am blowing things out of proportion, but I have had anxiety issues my entire life, and I have to accept it will aways phase in and out, and can only be something I can manage, not cure. It usually goes away after a while, but it is frustrating when it is happening.

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  • You Don’t Have To Be

    You Don’t Have To Be, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    Jeni,
    You don’t have to be
    Jerry Seinfeld

    Richard,
    You don’t have to be
    Dickenson

    Her wise words
    About living under
    The microscope of fame

    Your sitcom did not gain
    You were somebody
    Before you got sold that game

    That if you fail
    You are worth less
    If you fail

    You are worthless
    You didn’t try
    Didn’t try your best

    Yes you did
    You made me laugh
    At my time of despair

    On a dark path
    It snapped me out
    I came about

    You had the talent
    You had the art
    You were there for me

    Before I fell apart
    You didn’t get that start
    But that is ok

    You didn’t have to
    End your life that way
    I wish you had chosen to stay.
    (end)

    This poem is an ode to the not well known comedian Richard Jeni. Unfortunately he got depressed because his career did not take off like he wanted it to. His sitcom got cancelled and that pushed him over the edge. He will never know how he snapped me out of a deep depression after a woman broke up with me because of his “Love Songs” act. He was a great comedian, and if he had only been able to do bars or local his entire life, he still would have been a great comedian.

    Emily Dickinson also wrote a poem “I Am Nobody, Who Are You”, a very short two stanza poem about the drudges and downside of being in the spotlight.

    The most important thing to me is mental health, go for what you want in life, who knows. But also know that the higher up you go the fewer spots there are. And there are far more talented unknows who will never be nationally/internationally known than the ones you know.

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  • Not a poem, but because of recent events.

    I am not talking about any specific person when I say this. My cell is cheap, I have the minimum $35 dollar plan. When I use my home wifi as a hot spot to avoid throttling back on my phone, if I am in a voice space for over an hour the quality of keeping up with the room declines. Sometimes my buttons lock up on my screen, and it can seem like nobody is talking when they are. But I highly suspect it was more than my cell phone acting up on me.

    I think in this one instance my opinion of life got me in trouble and not the actual unintended interruptions. I am an atheist, and I make no apologies for it. Many of my poems are skeptical and it isn’t designed to say believers are evil, but only to say, “have you considered this”? I think most human beings are good, I simply don’t think anyone needs a deity to do good or be good.

    And as far as getting rich and famous of of writing poetry, that is rare, and while not impossible, it will not happen for most. That is not being negative or pessimistic. If a writer gets on the map I am always happy for them. But at the same time, I do not want to see someone dive into a deep depression, or gain an addiction, or commit suicide if they do not reach that goal. The competition simply does not allow everyone to be on top all at the same time.

    I take this very personally because my favorite comedian, who never rose to Jerry Seinfeld fame, Richard Jeni, committed suicide because his short lived sitcom “Platypus Man” got cancelled. He was a very funny guy, but even as a standup road comic, he could have had a lifetime living even without becoming the level of Seinfeld.

    Whoopie Goldberg said on “Inside The Actor’s Studio” when a student in the audience asked, “Will I sit where you are sitting someday?”. Her rightful response was, “You are all capable of being great actors, but most of you, if not all of you, will not sit where I am sitting”, meaning they would not rise to her national/international fame.

    If an artist, musician, sports player, business person, anything, wants to shoot for the brass ring, by all means, try. But the top of the top, the people we know nationally and internationally, are outnumbered by the unknows. Not because they don’t try, or because they are bad. But because the competition is fierce.

    I simply do not want to see good people end up depressed or suicidal because they did not get to the top. It is a very rare place to get. As a poet, I read many people that will never be famous, who deserve it, who could rival Plath and Dickenson and others you know. It may be your dream to make it big, but you still have to be grounded in the math of odds if you want to remain mentally healthy. All art must always be done first, for the love it, not the money, not the fame. I will not apologize for saying that.

  • School Of Piranha

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

    I was that Carl with the pizza face
    I could never have a Blair
    She was out of my class

    The girls weren’t nice
    The jocks were worse
    I hated my teen years

    It was a curse
    I never fit in
    I never looked right

    I was easy work
    If I got in a fight
    I always had to

    Run and hide
    I had no best friend
    By my side

    I was a minnow
    In a school of sharks
    I felt invisible

    I lived in the dark
    A school of piranha
    Made it’s mark

    I don’t want to go back
    Lived under attack
    The school of piranhas

    Cut me no slack.
    (end)

    This is an ode poem to a particular episode of “The Facts Of Life” that hit close to home for me. In Season 3 Episode 20, “Kids Can Be Cruel” The jocks pick on a character named Carl who is wimpy looking and has a bad complexion. I was that guy, except his character was actually more educated and smarter than me as implied by the script by comparison. His character knew about famous abstract artists like Picasso, I didn’t know shit about art back then. I was simply scared and wimpy and felt dumb all the time.

    And I longed for a good looking girlfriend at the time. But girls were not attracted to me. I look back at that now, and the truth is, I did blow off one girl who liked me because everyone was teasing her and me about our relationship, and I was too scared to stand up to anyone. I was an easy fight, you could knock me over with that “feather” as skinny as I was.

    “School Of Piranha” is what Ms Garrett called the kids after discovering how they had treated Carl, thus the title of the poem.

    I will say to the writers credit, it was a lesson on how not to be a bully be kinder to others. My childhood sucked, my teen years sucked. I am lucky that I no longer have to live in that kind of isolation and fear. But every generation has those asshole bullies and they honestly do not know the damage they cause and that is something someone can carry throughout their entire lives.