The strange, the bad, and the weird

some odd poetry to tide you over

Welll… *in my best Bernie Sanders voice*… I am once again asking you for submissions. Send me your missives and your verse, your tall tales and your fables, your cozies and your epics. I must have something to post, or you will all be regaled with my own scribbles, and my own scribbles only.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

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Speaking of which… Behold!

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Implicit

or

Sequins of Dreams

or

The Day Words Sequestered My Mind

1

Figures of females silhouette on the bedroom wall

of the man upstairs. From the street, I read his

speech, and realize no one will die tonight. I drive on.

2

There was a two-fisted girl. She

met a four-

eyed man with a turtle

crawling up his back, shouting,

"Howdy, howdy!"

The man was shouting.

Turtles don't shout.

3

You swallow your gum, wondering

how many years it will hang out

in your gut, passing the time, never

daring to make friends with the digestible.

But you are in school and have a swing.

You swing high and aim

at nothing. You are the envy.

Crows line up to bid you "good-day."

A fish with frog eyes promises to

mail a prop

you ordered, just in time

for the dismount. Jumping

at your zenith and somersaulting.

(summer salting)

(some assaulting?)

No one cheers. But you do

meet five friends of Mr.

Hyper Bully --

Knuckle, Head, and three others

with cuneiform names.

Next stop: Uranus.

4

Hearts are floating through the mall.

Not the shape.

Literal hearts.

Veins and arteries dangling,

spitting. Protrusions bob

like knobs to doors that,

once opened, would

indubitably

break them.

No one believes it,

later,

on the way to church,

sitting in the car,

going nowhere.

All of them, every one a

cynic. "Duh key,"

someone says.

Now we're getting somewhere.

5

There was a caterpillar once...

Which reminds me

of a cat in a pillar.

It was in a back street, dark side

of town. Like the moon,

but more gravity

and cavities. Many cats

had died at this place,

at the end of this

alley. Gory

rags littered the concrete.

"Littered" is not a pun.

6

Weir dammed.

—as appeared in The American Drivel Review

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Photo by Pat Whelen on Unsplash

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If you caught all the hidden messages and puns in that one, I am sorry.

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Speaking in Fonts

The women of my dreams scroll past

in calligraphy. Casually I angle

for Helvetica, but always show my

Comic Sans. From the streets wafts

a Times New Roman babble,

mingled with a few Arial Blacks.

I try not to be racist, I try really hard,

a Georgia by birth, but I don't make the names.

My girlfriend's a Tahoma girl, she

coos my name in Calibri but later

assaults me in Trebuchet.

I try to make an Impact before the crying

begins and I must Consolas her. Outside

a Century Gothic girl walks by

in full daylight, I'm not quite sure how.

A Courier calls to me in mimic Garamond,

carpe diem and tabula rasa, and though

I gather he means to raise my Serif,

maybe first I should retake Latin Bold.

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Okay, okay… NOW I’m sorry.

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Photo by Peter Law on Unsplash

Involuntary Demolition

The ceiling hailed around us.
We gathered the child,
bunkered him outside.
Lost a man

and some teeth. Afterwards, 
the structure resembled
a carcass skinned,
inexpertly butchered.

What wood remained,
we burned 

until the cold rain 
turned coals to cinder.

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Photo by Jacob Rank on Unsplash

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That one I shan’t have to explain, but this next one came out of a simple thought: what if marriage were illegal?

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Under the Influence

After the proposal, she hid her ring
in a flower pot and delivered
secret invitations beneath tables.

Shysters slid in at the reception
with babies and veils, setting fire 
to the garden. Weeds and roses

burned to ash. The guests
scattered, and later, a video
circled the internet. In lieu

of donations, police distributed
the gifts and issued a statement:
"If you wanna rot, tie the knot." 

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Photo by Kalen Emsley on Unsplash

This one explains itself in the title, I think

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And Over There, a Dead Guy

It was half-eaten by the rock,
arms at angles 
reserved for mountain roads, and eyes
fogged over, as if the morning dew 
had found a home at last.
We spent several minutes 
pointing up the cliff, debating 
from which point he had fallen 
and wondering whether 
he was really dead
if no one had been there to hear it.

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Photo by Ankhesenamun on Unsplash

And finally, one for the end of the world. I warned you.

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We are more than matted hair and flesh

In the town square, we waited for the end to come.
The sky thick with lights, and I still remember 
the song we sang, how'd it go? 
There were cars 
in the parking lots, their alarms sounding.
We played along, pounding with the beat.

The adams married the eves
last summer. Their skin melted with the heat 
and chemicals 
into one viscid flesh. We stayed together, 
but we never touched.

The times have changed, my dear. We ignored
the phone, it's not supposed to ring 
anymore.  So many tones
gone, living in memory alone, where you still smile 
at me when I'm close. 
These hands are sticky, 

where I pull your buns from the oven. 
I climb the spruce out back, look down on you 
as you call my name. 
They're ready, you say, 
shouting now. The sun is up. 

Sap clings to my palms, and your head 
lies in my lap, darkness almost complete. 

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Photo by Rene Böhmer on Unsplash

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Now for your honest opinions! A poll! Not at all obligatory! Tell me more in the comments!

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If you liked this, why not—?