Archive for December, 2018

Why did she neglect to write the poem

about the poem that bored her sister?

The same poem that contained few words

but had enough to drone a dull ache

into her best friend’s frigid head.

The poem that referenced another poem

forgotten and refused by her mother

and a woman who ignored poems when

given any opportunity.

The poem that condensed a short poem

and elongated a briefer one

that discussed an eclogue and an ode

and depicted a bitter argument about


She skipped it all instead and in its stead

wrote another treatise on monotony and bread.


Academia is Dead

Primitive Poetry

They say God is dead.
And we killed Him.
As if we could kill God.
Yet, we bow our heads with a slight nod.

I walk to the front of the chapel,
To pay my respects seems, natural.
Forced to look upon the face,
And forced to offer my disgrace,
When I notice this is not the face
That I was expecting in this boxed place.

It is academia who lies in the coffin.
For students sit silently in rows too often,
While information is spewed onto boards,
We string her up like strange fruit with cords.

Laptops are guillotines for creativity.
They steal ideas like the sharp blade,
That falls at the will of gravity.
As we sit and “take notes,” we fade.

Academia wishes she had died fast.
I know this, because I heard what she said last.
As I looked at her face, she spoke to me.

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Crustbuk the Clown slammed his tumbler of Scotch onto the table.

“Bring me my rust wig,” he growled.

Ofcrust the Clownmaid obediently started to search through the giant walk-in closet full of well-used clown paraphernalia. As a High Clown of the Clownsortium, Crustbuk had a massive collection of the highest quality wigs, floppy shoes, and vividly colored plastic noses all heaped up along with the other required accouterments of a well-rounded clown in his expansive closet.

“What’s taking you so long?” Crustbuk barked.


A dimly lit Taco Bell.


What kind of Christmas tacos do you have?



Christmas what?



You know, pine tree pollo, eggnog asada? What flavors?


I’m gonna barf.

(runs off)


Bastards! I know a war on Christmas when I see one!