I am Mechanism

I laid my head

On the ceramic floor tile or existence.

I am mechanism.

The flavor and the heartburn

Of disappearance.


This is a poem I wrote in April 2017 when everything I wrote was completely terrible. Somehow this poem came out comparatively good. At the time I had started experimenting with avantgarde poetry, but I had not yet figured out what makes a good avantgarde poem. I think much of my problem was that I didn’t know what made a good poem of any sort. Now, I have had much more practice at regular poems and crazy ones alike, and I feel like I have a better handle on how to write a poem and how to appreciate one.

If you want to, you can see the original post of this poem here: https://therichardbraxton.wordpress.com/2017/04/13/april-poem-13-napowrimo/

And if you want to compare it to the more terrible poems I wrote in April of 2017, you can do that here: https://therichardbraxton.wordpress.com/2017/04/page/2/

2009 Poem: I’m Slappin’ Yo’ Mama

I’m slappin’ yo’ mama

Running in circles and jumpin’ up and down

I’m slappin’ yo’ mama

Somewhere, nowhere, and everywhere around

I’m slappin’ yo’ mama

Speaking faster at a furious pace

Acting stupidly as I stare into space

I speak so absurdly, my words make no sense

I’m slappin’ yo’ mama

That’s my recompense

NaPoWriMo Poem 26

Both open, two men in dark suits

Stood in the Holy Sepulcher.

Existence coincides out of his jacket pocket

And settled them burnt offerings,

Circumcision, prayer five times a day,

Back copies of Playboy, the top of my head,

Existence of things that don’t exist, can’t exist,

And states that you have to come with us.


But doesn’t it make sense that

God has been hounding me?

The pollution of the earth and the

Resulting catastrophes reveal

A slender cigarette held to her lips.

She let the smoke linger

Between the religious information.


She balanced feeble human mind

Neatly on the bridge of his nose.

Her long nails, bright red with being,

As if pulled by some unseen mark of man,

Did little to beautify a world,

The luscious red of her lips.