“If our species never questioned social norms, our species never would have left the caves” Me.

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.

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

I only have two Twitter accounts.

“RationalPoet@brianrrs37”
AND
“Brian@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.

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

This thing, this grey matter
This albatross, this dead weight
This filing cabinet
This runner

Bicycle courier, broken spokes
Flat tire, no pump, all that data
Suffocated by that enforcer
Putting a plastic bag over my creativity

Why damn it! Why! Why! Why!
Why can’t I get it down, these words
Doled out like a blind black jack dealer
With no table, spilling the chips everywhere

And you cling to me, inside me
My city hall, office of records
Duplicate, triplicate, lost it
Shredded it, no record of it

I would pull that fire alarm
Just to get your attention
But you just put your feet up
On your desk, taking your time

To come to my office, your office
Our office, just to dump the file
Into the trash can, just to spite me
And there isn’t a thing I can do

Unless, I turn out the lights
Cut off the power
Burn the building down
Drop you off the roof

Hey, do you want to
Go out for a drink after work?
I know this great place
I know the bartender

He’ll give you all the free drinks
You want. And snacks? No problem
Bowls of your favorite pills
Take as many as you like

Don’t worry about the tab
It’s on the house. Tomorrow
You’ll get your severance pay
But don’t look for references.
(end)

This poem is about struggling with my maladies. I have A.D.D. and high anxiety, plus a brain that doesn’t do what I want it do to, when I want it to. It shoots through the roof when I am writing poetry, and can easily lose my thought, misspell a word and miss it, or completely lose my thought and sometimes even an entire poem. And although I have not been diagnosed, I also think I might have slight dyslexia. Not to mention this can cause me to be depressed.

The imagery is about my neurons in my brain. I imagine them as a bicycle courier company that is unorganized, misfiring, scattered and disjointed, and getting frustrated with myself. I will say one thing about this format on this page, it does help reduce my stress level by not being busy in looks, plus having spellcheck. Although even with spellcheck I still can miss something.

My infection, inclination, subterranean
Shall it be, a warm bathtub sleep
Anxiety pills, whiskey on the rocks?

Did I ask you to ask? No, I am here
Reading your words, on the recommendation
From a lady who stuck her head in the oven

She thought highly of you, so why, why
This fascination, obsession, direction
To the carpenter’s questions, never asked

Never asks why, die, die, die
Is it that the razor blade is too dull?
Is it that you are not yet high enough to fall?

I am on that girder, in the skyline
Perched above the metropolis, eating my lunch of fear
Wondering why I am here, dear, my dear

It is no craft, it is criminal, this theft
Of my senses, drawing me in, with your poison
Creative poison, tumultuous, I could stir it

In my coffee, you look like you love coffee
Or is it tea? Anything, anything, will you
Just spend a little time with me, with me?

She won’t mind, she’s too busy
Being interviewed, or writing of giant statues
And prison camps, and pink fizz

And you walk in, grabbing me, dragging me
Into some sort of pact I have not agreed to
I just got here, slow down, I just met you

There you are, the pair of you
Whispering in my ears, “It is painless”
Hawkeye and Trapper sang of it

But for now, I want none of it
Just your company, that is it
Anne, Sylvia, don’t fight over me.
(end)

This poem stems from my listening to a Sylvia Plath interview in which she said she like a fellow poet Anne Sexton. Unfortunately both of them respectively committed suicide, Sylvia in 63, and Anne in 74.

I’ve been seriously suicidal in the past myself. Not now, but been there. Their poetry I can so identify with. I reference both poet’s imagery in this poem. IE, “the carpenter” of Anne Sexton’s “Wanting To Die”. And Sylvia Plath’s “The Applicant” , “Colossus”, “Daddy” and “Cut”.

In Anne Sexton’s poem “Wanting To Die” there is this stanza

“But suicides have a special language
Like carpenters, they want to know which tools
They never ask why build”….<—- Anne Sexton.

That should explain the “carpenter” reference in my poem as an ode to Anne’s poem.

And in my poem you heard/ read “It’s painless” which is in reference to the theme song to the sitcom M.A.S.H. called “Suicide Is Painless”, and Hawkeye and Trapper are characters in that sitcom.

Of course this is an imaginary conversation with Anne, as if all three of us were at a party that Plath invited me to, and Anne tried to steal me from her. It is really dark in meaning, meaning the “pact” I did not agree to.

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

So pristine, this pyrite
Deceptively enticing
Aesthetically pleasing
Everyone is leaving

A new coat over
Over that dry rot
Over the termites
Over the faded wallpaper

The diamond is not
What you thought
What you bought
What you sought

It is the rust
The rain
The pain
You want to hide

Smiles behind
No one can see
Inside thee
Leave me be

I am as happy
As I can be
Cant you see
Cant you see?

Insubstantial
Rickety, consequently
Discarded, forgotten
Look at me, look at me

The claw trap
Has ensnared me
I cannot leave
Cannot leave

I bleed, I bleed
It cuts me, cuts me
The belt sander
Has exposed me

Sawdust and mold
You’ve uncovered
I cannot be repaired
Paint fumes fill the air

Beware, beware
I am never there. I am
The house. My own ghost
With no substance

To scare, to scare
To breath, I fear
To stay or go
I do not dare

The shutters dangle
On rusty hinges
The doors creak
The roof leaks

What of me, of me?

Do You Have A Grape For Me?, By Brian37(AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)

Do you have
A grape for me?
Though I hang upside down
In a tree?

In a cave
I don’t need to see
Do you have
A grape for me?

I want to be
I want to be
Liked by everybody
Do you have a grape for me?

Why is everyone
Scared of me?
I can be very friendly
Do you have a grape for me?

You make images of me
Signals in the moon rarely
My associate rides a broom
Do you have a grape for me?

The Irwins did rescue me
They never, never, fear me
Always have that special treat
Do you, have, a grape, for me?
(end)

Bats get a bat wrap. I think they are super cute. I certainly would not handle a wild bat because of disease, but rescued bats well taken care of, are very socialized and just give them a grape, and you have a best friend for life. I watched an episode of Crikey, and they had rescued an injured bat and in its own group setting they are very social and very friendly.

Stigmatized, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on twitter)

The terrible stigma
Attached to those
Even full bodied
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Buck up”
“Be a man”
“Shake it off”
They’ll never understand
Mental illness is
As much a malady
As a missing limb.

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

From the veranda
Overlooking the sloped backyard
To see the beauty
Is not that hard

Mangrove trees
With octopus roots
In low tide
Attack the drying mud

Great pretender
This halfmoon lagoon
Pretending it is dry riverbed
In some scorching part of Africa

But no,
It is just a slight indentation
In my friend’s backyard
High tide will remind it

Shimmering silverback waters
No, you are not Africa
The underlying turquoise
Of the bay, will remind you

The calm tide slowly creeps in
It wants to sooth the angry roots
Lapping around them, as if
They’re photons acting like both particle and wave

Those clever double slit waters
Undulate the shadows of the roots
Swaying and snaking
Under the broccoli branch mangrove

And those chimps
Are not orangutans
Any which way but loose
They’re kookaburras

Lap, lap, lap
The tide slowly creeps in
A heavy piece of deadwood
Submerges like a Navy sub

But it is only temporary
The tide retreats
Those angry roots
Exposed again
(end)

This poem is about where my late friend Bob lived, on an island just off the tip of Victoria Point in Queensland Australia. I fell in love with his back yard the minute I saw it. In low tide the mud would dry like a riverbed in Africa, and the tide was so gentle going in and out, it would reflect the branches of the mangrove trees. FYI “Any which way but loose” is a play on the real comedy movie staring Clint Eastwood “Any Which Way But Loose”. And I don’t know why they call kookaburras “laughing” birds, they sound like they are screaming to me. But anyway, I love Russell Island and Brisbane and I got to see lots of Queensland, coastal and inland. My favorite island in the world actually is The Great Keppel Island just off the coast of Yeppoon. It is tiny, but looks like it could be a movie set in a romance or adventure movie.

A Stone, by Brian37/Brian James Rational Poet.

I wish I were a stone
Hard and Enduring
It doesn’t blink
Like me
At the thought of snow

I wish I were a stone
Tough and firm
It doesn’t care
Like me
If mud soils it

I wish I were a stone
Unyielding to blows
Unlike me
It needs no defenses

I am glad
I am not a stone
For a stone
Does not care.