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

William Katt
You are not that
You are however

A silly pussy cat
Jaclyn Smith
Angel’s namesake

You are a character
Make no mistake
You love to jump

When you crouch
About to launch
Of your landings

I have no doubt
You could have been
The feline Ralf

Believe it or not
You’re flying on air
You never thought

You could be so free
Flying away
On a play full day

Who could it be
Believe it or not
It’s just Kelly

Your landings
Have much
To be desired

Crashing
Most of the time
Don’t you get tired?

I love you
Kelly
But you have no grace

You soar
Like an eagle
And land

Like an octopus
Tentacles spread out
No parachute to aid

Maxwell
And counselor
Anneplath his name

Kelly I am afraid
Though we are
On the same team

You wont ever
Be able to stick
That dismount

Off of the balance beam.
(end)

For those who don’t know I am playing off of the theme song to the “superhero” show of the 80s called “The Greatest American Hero” and the theme song “Believe It Or Not”. Actor William Katt played Ralf on the show. The character’s friends were an FBI agent named Maxwell, and his lawyer love interest Pam, Maxwell often called “counselor”.

This is an ode to that show and how it shows that even the dorks, the clumsy are loved and matter, and fun and silly, and great to have as friends. Kelly and Anneplath both have a time of it sticking their landings when they flip in the air to attempt to grab the fuzzy toy on the string just above their heads, and do a backflip on the way down, but it looks so awkward the way they land. It is so silly and fun to watch.

“Ralf” was the hero in the show, space aliens chose him to wear and use a “super hero” leotard full body, with a cape, and it allowed him to fly. But Ralf couldn’t stick the landings. That is how I feel watching my cats play. I love them so much.

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

You think of us
Sullied seeds
Spoiled soil

The ground
We worship
Of the devil

Faces of gargoyles
Breath of fire
Maniacal laugh

Evil our path
We wish you death
Graves our gift

We stalk
We haunt
We wallow

In filth
Like pigs
This is

What
You want us
To be

Hate to tell you
Hate to face you
With reality

We feel love
We feel empathy
We need companionship

And we can get lonely
We have family
We have friends

We hate dictators
We’re not
Communists

We won’t rob you
We won’t stab you
We won’t kill you

Your kittens
Would be safe
Under our care

These false ideas
Were sold to you
By other’s fear

As for your logic
That is up for debate
We are not doormats

So give up your hate.
(end)

A sarcastic yet serious poem about how fundies see atheists and stupidly think we love dictators or we want a lawless society, or we are evil deserving of eternal hellfire. No fundies, we will not barbecue your kittens.

“Life Is Pretty Therefore”, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

Such a common refrain
Yet another pratfall
Reasoned in vein

The bounty of life
So much, so much
It has to be God

That did all such
The bees buzzing
Makes us honey

Of the eye
Such complexity
And the calm

Nighttime sky
Pretty pretty stars
Glimmer into eyes

The baby’s birth
Brings wonder
To parent’s minds

Childlike reason
Gap filling
Comforting lies

Nobody is willing
To note that nature
Isn’t always pleasing

Humans want
Divine meaning
They want a maker

To pick them winner
To corner the market
As to why

Why do we die
Because we do
Not because

He wants you
Not because
He is punishing you

Not because
He needs friends
Not because

Of a master plan
Life is ugly
Life is violent

You can
Make up mythology
Ignorantly defiant

But nature
Needs not
To be compliant

A volcano
A tornado
A wildfire

An earthquake
A hurricane
A zebra foal

Eaten in whole
By a pride of lions
Survival the goal

Another meteor
Will hit earth
And take it’s toll

And our cruelty
To each other
Is not in short supply

As he sits
Up in the sky
With folded arms

As time goes by
Selective deadbeat
Seems to let slide

Crimes against humanity
But only he knows why
So it’s ok

That you’re a toy
You’re a pawn
You’re a lab rat

For his selfish joy
I say no
To this ploy

I know too much
Of the universe
Of this planet

Our species
Short time
On it

And of
5 mass extinctions
That took place

Your mythology
Won’t save face
Your superstition

Will lose the race
Centuries from now
Gods get replaced

Is there good
In life?
Most certainly

Yet tis bad logic
For to argue
“Life is pretty”.
(end)

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

Though it be
The first month
Of the year

I write of nothing
I speak to no one
Truly a deaf ear

Muddied dried and cracked
Arid tongue went black
Inspiration I lack

Scorpions attack
Imagine diamondback
Poison my imagination

The frigid gloom
Winter looms
Shackles bones

Brittle cold
It cant be told
These thoughts withhold

These poems grow old
Never to be sold
Will ever be read?

I don’t want them dead
Parched is my head
As I lay in bed

I want to bleed
This shivering season
Into spring, shed this treason

Frostbite becomes fire
Once again, summer gives life
To my pen and then

I feel the ink flowing
Trickling, gushing, rushing
Breaking the doldrums

Writing more poems.
(end)

Another poem about how I am in a cold snap of inspiration and distraction poisoning my attempts, wanting to break out of this dry spell and get back to daily writing. Another metaphorical poem about writers block.

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

You didn’t have it
Before you were born
You’ll have no use for it
After you are gone

It is false comfort
To equate it to
Immortality
The ages due

It preys on envy
It preys on greed
It can cause
Many a dirty deed

It can create
Prisons too
To be of such wealth
Not to know, if friends are true.

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

The art
Of the sliced
Heart
The satin
Dance
The rage
Of winds
The reaper
Wins
The eagle
Glides
Starry skies
We read it
When
The ink dries.
(end)

Why the poet reads and writes.

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

Whoever
The haters are
With nose
In the air
Are minds
Shut
Devoid
Of palate
No paint
No canvas
Just noisy
Scoffers
Of ignorance
Full of jealousy.
(end)

This is a poem to all my critics and haters of my poetry. If you don’t like it that is your right. But others do like my poetry so it really does not matter what the haters think. I think many poets can identify with this.

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

She’s a shadow
I talk to her
Though I know
It is just self comfort

The milestones pass
Her birthday
My birthday
The holidays

This spinning marble
Falling around the sun
Roulette wheel
I cannot feel

Her touch
Her hugs
I cannot hear
Her laugh

The revelers
In Times Square
Will countdown
And cheer

My mother
Is gone
She won’t sing
O Lang Syne.

December 25th, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)

As some
Might say
Of this day
Only one way
To celebrate
As if it was
A mandate
Some do not
And that is ok
Even if
You feel sad
On this day
It really is
Ok.

I’m Dreaming Of, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)

Spending the day
With my cats
Nothing about

Red and white hats
No fireplace no socks
No Christmas ham in broth

No deforestation
No plastic tree
No train set going around thee

You say I am a Grinch
Ask what is wrong with me
Why cant I be cheerful

Or happy? Oh I can
But you cant see
I simply don’t celebrate

It’s not for me. There
Are no laws that force me
We are not a theocracy

In any case, a little history
Your own holy book
Says not to bring in a tree

And if you pronounce
Santa correctly, Sinter Klaas
It was originally

And Thomas Nast
Civil War cartoonist
Depicted him as

Small and elflike
Not the big rotund jolly
Man we sing Holly Jolly

Not to mention
It is a time of stress
And for others loneliness

Buy buy buy
Creates mounting debt
Buy buy buy

People fight over it
Don’t get me wrong
I get the excuse

To hang out with family
I love that ruse
But I will always refuse

To let commercialism
Or religious tribalism
Or arguments from “tradition”

To put pressure on me
And if you flip out
Over a coffee cup

If you demand I always must
Greet you with certain words
If you scream and cuss

You are an intitled insecure brat
I will not engage you
I’ll have none of that

I’m dreaming of
You do you
And leave me alone

I do not owe you
I’m not your clone
Yet someone may call me

On my phone
Ask me to come over
So I won’t be alone

But the friends I have
Are fine with me
Being myself and wouldn’t you agree

Isn’t that what
Solstice celebrations are about
Less division, more harmony?