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

Kookaburra,
Kookaburra
Chimpanzee,
How does that laughing
Scream out of thee?

Kookaburra
Kookaburra
Cry cry cry
In a Brisbane morning
I watched you fly

Then at lunchtime
I went out to dine
I thought a lamb burger
Would be just fine
Then this black and white bird

Had on it’s it’s mind
After the fries
I had on the side
It cared not that
I was there

That pestering magpie
Not the least was scared
In the land down under
These birds are unique
And dare.
(end)

Kookaburras are my favorite birds in the world. Many people think they sound like they are laughing, but to me they sound like they are screaming in anger.

Magpies are fearless and if you are eating outside, do not take your eyes of your food for one nanosecond. They do not care if you are there. They will get right up next to your food on the table when you turn your head for a second. They are fast too.

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

Faded images of days past
Flash powder, black cloth
Draped over, bent over
The photographer

And the subject suspended
In repose, not dead at the time
Quite live like a ghost
In Victorian chair, in military cloths

Horse and buggy
Antique rails
In the harbor
The steam ship sails

Handlebar mustache
Top hat, monocle
Bonnie and Clyde
Penny farthing bicycle

In Antietam
The body’s lay
Tom Sharky
Wyatt Earp’s say

C-5527
Eastern State
Capone housed in
Leon Czolgoaz

Did McKinley in
Harry Houdini
Escaped at whim
Maye West tempted men

Kodaks imprint
Way back then
Sepia rusts
And always wins.
(end)

This poem is an mish mosh of history in photography for the faded photographs of the 19th and early 20th centuries.

The words “in repose” do not literally mean lying in death for review, but in that old photographs capture the dead, and give them life in the photograph.

An aside, I did not know that famed Wyatt Earp once refereed a boxing match between Bob Fitzsimmons and Tom Sharky in 1896. I actually stumbled on this fact watching an old episode of the 80s detective show Simon & Simon where the character Rick called into a radio show to answer a sports related question to win money. I paused the dvd to see if “Tom Sharky” was a real person or simply made up in the script, turned out he was a real boxer, when I googled the name. But what I did not know was that Wyatt Earp officiate the match.

“C-5527” I have to admit based on the photo may actually be “C-3327” I cant understand the font of the numbers. Anyway, it is one of those Police/Prison processing photos where they make the incarcerated wear a plaque with the number of their processing. That was of Al Capone in Philadelphia when he was arrested for illegally carrying a revolver. Processed at Eastern State Penitentiary.

“Leon Czolgoaz” was the assassin of President William McKinley.

“Penny farthing” is a type of bicycle with that really giant front wheel and a tiny rear wheel.

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

Evening does not
Lead to night
Evening does not
Lead to dawn
Evening is
The last note
The last page
The credits scrolling
At the end of the movie
Evening is the inevitable
Consequence of living.
(end) #vss365

Self evident poem I would think.

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

If not one, surely all
The words they argue
Echo in the same halls

They think they are unique
Separate and distinct
Matching every link

Of our science
Of our origins
Of our morality

My God says
My gods say
My wise man says

My Preacher says
My Imam says
My Rabbi says

My guru says
My Buddhist monk says
My swami says

I am good because
I am good because
My club always is

We invented this
We invented this
All of them insist

They were the first
Of course
That is how it works

A slap of the Hitch
Might tell you this
If intellectual honesty

Persists, “Name me
One good thing said
Or one good deed done,

That no other religion can do.”
Christopher thought it through
Where as most laypeople don’t do

Victor Stenger too
Read his books and see
Our morality

Is evolutionary, not mythology
Our acts of kindness, and empathy
And unfortunately our cruelty

Is not of a tune
A battle between
A super cognition

In the sky
Competing over him
Murder till we die

No Lucifer
Anymore than Lex Luther
Or Darth Vader

Not Dharma
Or Karma
Or Buddha

No Jesus,
Or Allah
Or Yahweh

Paved our highways
It has always, always
Always

Been our species
Making it up
To avoid

Inconvenient reality.
(end)

(DISCLAIMER: This poem does not imply or endorse the oppression or physical harm of anyone or any group. It is also not a poem about hating out of ignorance or bigotry. It is strictly a poem about how humans are far more alike than they want to know in their arguments for uniqueness and originality and morality and matching science. Every religion has apologists who make these arguments.)

Now having said that. I say again, that human rights are always a given to me. I do value diversity. But I am under no obligation to silence myself when it comes to responding to bad use of logic. I owe all fellow humans the dignity of life and being free from physical harm. But if you say something absurd or flat out scientifically wrong, or especially something hateful and bigoted and base that on your religion, that is where my silence is far more likely not to stay such.

In summary, the poem is how I view that there is nothing original about any religion in the world and they all make the same arguments. It isn’t because humans are bad or evil, but because most humans defend that which they are familiar with, used to and local, mostly what society sold them. In that context it is hard for most people to see the overlap, and common themes of arguments they all make.

“A slap of the Hitch” is a take on what many people like to say about Christopher Hitchens when he slams an argument from a theist, we call it “Hitch Slap”. And he has made the argument which I quoted in the poem that basically went, “Name me one good thing said, that no other religion can say, and name me one good deed done that no other religion can do.” To this day I have never gotten a good answer. I suspect I never will.

And Victor Stenger, who is an Author of two of my favorite books, “God The Failed Hypothesis” and “The New Atheism”. In the latter book, “The New Atheism”, in one of his chapters he shows the overlap in moral arguments for each religion, thus trying to point the reader, and quite well I would say, to the argument that morality isn’t in a holy writing, or holy person, or holy book, but in our species, in our evolution.

Cone Of Falsetto, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter.

He’s minus two
I had to do
Snip snip, at the vet

Get smart, what an art
They doped you up
And I am on the wagon

Satellite dish
For a week
This lion once roared

But now merely squeaks.
Hit the high notes
Audition for Alvin

Chipmunks hoped
Anneplath
Would join them

You wobble and purr
Tipsy drunkard
What are you on?

It must be damn good.
(end)

My male cat named Anneplath (Hybrid name of two poets, Ann Sexton and Sylvia Plath) got the big snip. He is high as a kite really doped up, and that sucks for me, because I am sober now and whatever they put him on, he is happy as hell. Falling down like a drunkard but still happy as hell. I love him, but he looks so goofy with that satellite dish.

“Cone of Falsetto” is a play off the fake spy gadget contraption in the 60s sitcom “Get Smart” “Cone Of Silence”, not for the shape of course, but because both the dish on his neck and the fake spy contraption look so silly in their own rights.

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

Love is like a suicide
It comes in many kinds
You’re scared of it
But obsessed
At the same time
It is your addiction
Your knife, your balcony
Your gun, your cliff
Your bottle, your pills
You don’t want to go
But unless you do
You will never know.
(end)

This is not advocating suicide, it is merely poetic license. It is saying that love can be scary and it hits you many different ways but unless you take the plunge you will never know if it will work.

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

You get a bullet
And you get a bullet
And you get a bullet
Everyone gets a bullet

You get injured
And you get injured
And you get injured
Everyone get’s injured

You lose a loved one
And you lose a loved one
And you lose a loved one
Everyone loses a loved one

You get slaughtered
And you get slaughtered
And you get slaughtered
Everyone gets slaughtered

You have no safe workplace
And you have no safe school
And you have no safe worship
Everyone lives in fear

And you get gun
And you get a gun
And you get a gun
Everyone gets a gun.

MSU, and theater’s too
Parkland
And Newtown
It’s nothing new

To the NRA
To the NSSF
To the GOP
From the sane people

YOU GET A FUCK YOU!
(END)

I am fucking tired of writing poems after mass shootings. Michigan State University the latest.

Disclaimer: This poem in no way is intended to reflect the actual views of Oprah Winfrey on guns or gun violence. It is strictly mocking the far right trigger happy nutbags who masturbate over an object and care more about that object than the slaughter of our fellow citizens.