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. (end)
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, 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. (end)
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, 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. (end)
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.
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, 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”. (end)
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.
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, 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. (end)
(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.
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.