December Poem 6

Divergent Loathing in Las Vegas.


Gotta get em young.

Hotdog crust fried chicken.

They gotta eat.


Jesus. In that dress I teabagged,

She seemed miraculous:

A shift from non-ceased following,

A negative in an instant,

And often, an expert use of a hundred logic arrows.

My God, her butt did look big.

‘Twas the Day After Rapture

I was looking through my stuff and found some old poems from 2012. This poem was written in the style of “‘Twas The Night Before Christmas.”

‘Twas the day after rapture, and life still went on.

Morality was here, but the Christians were gone.

There churches stood empty and neglected from care,

But it was only their dreams that rose through the air.

Selfish and lazy, they neglected their kin,

For they had a redeemer to absolve their sin.

Yet, I had an epiphany for what was ahead,

And I knew that organized religion was dead.

Could it have been when Camping began all the chatter

When I took to the internet to make fun of the matter?

Or I think maybe it was the Archdioceses

That let the abusers do as they please.

But then, maybe it was the Westborro Hags,

Who proclaim to the world that their God hates them kinds of folks.

Or it might be the folks from James Town,

Or in the punch bowl where their children were drowned.

Or was it in Waco where God’s love did turn

And with Koresh that the Gospel did burn?

Or was it Jeffs and his polygamous kin

That dug into God’s soul and did God’s love in?

But is it a sin? Is it hypocrisy

When a child of God is what I wish to be?

I wish and I dream for a kingdom in the sky

That is loving and kind and calling me nigh.

A little old man with a white beard and white coat

Who can float on a cloud as if it were a boat.

My life would be leisure for mine enemies he’d tame

As he shouted like thunder, “The lord God is my name!”

But Hindus, and Buddhists, and Taoists, and Sikhs,

And Muslims, and Jews just miss what he speaks.

The Christians are saved, but the rest have to fall.

So walk away, waste away, burn away all!

It seems to me that the kingdom of God

Is unbelievably small and insufferably odd.

Religion should be beautiful, saintly and strong.

Not used like a mask to hide who does wrong.

I think it happened when I was the age of twelve

When I learned not to believe in magic and elves.

The Lord’s light is a mist to disguise the truth,

And faith is lacking without any proof.

But God took his Gospel and clenched tight his teeth

As the halo encircled his head like a wreath.

God yanked his strong arms, and his kingdom was gone.

Lacking God’s guidance, the whole world moved on.

Did anyone need God’s existence on this Earth?

There is still love, charity and wonder in his dearth.

Or did God wink his eye and give a twist of his head

To let the world know we have nothing to dread?

So there is no need to pray. Just go straight to work.

Don’t live life as a criminal, and don’t be a jerk.

Give a beggar some money, and look him in the eyes.

Who needs the rapture when one wants to rise?

There is no more room, for God’s kingdom is nigh,

Are we relegated to suffer in hell when we die?

I say, don’t look on the end of life with dread.

There is no heaven or hell when you die your just dead!

December Poem 5

The most beautiful thing I have ever seen

Is the universe grinding my lifetime

Over centuries to sharpen its tools.

The missing under the direction

One diminishing friend

Having been teacher

When people are looking for length

To be trusted but being destroyed.

Having beauty or similar grinding.

The iron axe head

Is not created

In the inescapable grinding wheel.

One can achieve again,

Be bound by the laws

Of the most beautiful thing,

And be inspired to precipitate back beauty.

December Poem 4

This woman, her closet, was trembling

In the temple of devil.

Bringing down conviction and brimstone.

The reaching is real,

And he was trying to grab her from underneath.

The night rose as adult children.

And he was hiding in her heart.

She awoke in the middle of the cracking iron bands.

NaNoWriMo Wrap Up

I didn’t reach my 50,000 word goal for November. In fact, I only wrote about 12,000 legitimately useful words, and toward the end of the month I tried to catch up by writing a bunch of gibberish. However, I only got the total word count up to 25,000 words. I will keep working on my novel and keep updating it to WordPress, but I will be taking my time on it as I plan to go back to posting poetry on my blog. I am not sure if I am going to keep trying to post one poem per day or if I am going to cut back, but I guess I will be keeping you posted.

December Poem 2

A white daughter, frightened.

Frightened by a seizure.

She killed.


Car accidents.

Acid grown.

Center of bowel bubbling.

Steaming froth rose from her head.


Adult woman,

Whom these things devil away her breath.

Her devil, phantom scented.

A grown woman mustered

On her pitchfork. A heart.

The tool of her finest of false façade.

The woman’s bloody fangs.

The devourer of souls.