The rebellion at the chicken farm
Started with Harley Hen
When she noticed any bird that left
Never returned again
Plus
The **** covering the floor
Air all choked with funk
Out there
Harley imagined
There must be no gunk
Farmer Dave came through
And before he closed the door
The chickens were all upon him
Ready to settle the score
Pecking, clawing, cackling such
Farmer Dave has lost his touch
Covering his eyes and head
Farmer Dave
Posed no threat
Chickens out into fresh air
Running round from here to there
Every direction
All over town
Farmer Dave's chickens
Bullying everyone around
Then the humans
Formed their battle plan
Rounding up chickens
And frying pans
All those uppity chickens
Will surely boil
They'll become stew for sure
But every chicken just
Disappeared
Seen again never more
Of course, this started rumors
Of the spooky
Scary town
In which the local chickens
Ran the humans down

I wonder what it’s like to write a poem that trends
For weeks and weeks on end
People rolling their eyes
Thinking “this again!”
“Why in the heck does that poem still trend?”
And then, of course
It becomes a pain
For even the author
To try to justify
Why this poem keeps trending so high  
As much as it’s cool to be recognized
I don’t think I’d like it
Sustained
Nobody wants to stick around so long
That they become a pain

I am not a flowery poet
You’ll find no embellishment here
I prefer to say what I mean
In language plain and clear

I am at Peace
If it so be
The fruits of my labor
Are never eaten by me

You are like a lemon drop
Make me pucker
But like a sucker
I just can't seem to stop
It's the tingly way you make me feel
Your confidence and grace
You'd be absolutely perfect
If you weren't so **** two-faced
One set of friends
Think you're a brain
With others you play dumb
When you hang out with little kids
I'll bet you **** your thumb

This is not me begging
This is me asking earnestly

Dear future Valentine
I am waiting
Celibately
Until you come for me

If you throw that penny in the wishing well
You will have thrown away a penny
I’ve spent plenty of Pennies on less
How many wishes do come true
Is anybody’s guess

You and I
Connected
Fo Eva Eva
Via Via
This poemonia

I’m not really a poet
I cannot write ten lines about a blade of grass
Well, maybe I could
But why would
I want to do that?  
Poets love words so much
They use too much
I prefer to conserve
But
Wait a minute!
Maybe I am
Really a poet
Choosing to express myself through words
However I do it
Too big or too small
However it be
Maybe I am a poet, after all

When I say it in the written word
I feel like I am being heard
Maybe not immediately
But at some point in history
The right one will listen to me
And the right time
It will be
For he or she
To hear whatever words from me
And apply them to the life of thee
This is probably
The entire point of poetry
At least, for me

I think it’s cool you got groupies
And even cooler that you would never refer to them as groupies
But there are groupies
Chilling around you
Which is cool
You’re like The Fonze of poetry
Gotta be the coolest guy I ever did see
👍

My wish is to bring about a
Poetry Revolution
Where the fight is brought
To the eternal battle
Knowledge over ignorance
Poets have the particular task
Of polishing off
Ignorance hiding as knowledge
In the perpetual
Poetry Revolution
Maybe my wish has already come true
Poets are the type to sneak up on you
Then speak up on you
There is yet to be a defense
Through time
From a burn in a poetry line

As I sit here
Alone
Writing my mind
Only me
And my mind
You are there, too
And you, and you
Told through
Only me
And so it’s so confusing
There is no “I” in poetry

The political climate
Is unbelievable
It’s so filled with irony
And hypocrisy
And blindness to the nth degree
Some people….some real whack jobs
Say the whackadeeisticest ****
And a bunch of other people are
Egging it on, pumping up
Dumbassery
Entertainment value
Like letting the village idiot put on a show
Everyone there knows it’s an idiot display
Except for the idiot
And the people cheer and turn it on
To watch the idiot prance and dance
In the shiny disco pants

Walt Disney’s favorite character was Goofy
I don’t know why I find that so poetic
Maybe I’m just doofy
Poor Mickey must have suffered so
Pasting on that smile
Fronting the whole band
And yet the boss was favoring
That *******
Cow/dog/man

Ironic
The ones that trend
Never feel like
The best I’ve penned
Maybe mediocrity
Is what makes things
So trendy

I can’t wait until
I’m popular enough
To attract the haters
Who come along
And downvote
Every compliment

Looks like it will take a miracle
And all I can see
Is its possibility
I’m not sure what that says about me
Or maybe it says more about what I see
Possibility
I don’t feel like it’s selfish of me
To include you
Permissionlessly
When I set my eye
On impossibilities
I have decided
Your place in my life
Is a possibility
And until I hear differently
That is where you will be

For whatever it be
You feel heathy to me
Blessing me
Creatively
With a vision
Horizon
Maybe you see
It as unhealthy
And possibly
It could be
I have an addictive personality

I’d be a better poet
If I thought like an adult
But maybe that’s
Just a lie I tell myself
Maybe I think just fine
And I’ll be a better poet
With practice and time

Most times we pray
And we’re not on our knees
So we forget we’re praying
Sometimes we’re taking things for granted
And forgetting to be thankful
And give homage to that which is greater than myself
The Rhythmic
Nature
Miracles
And failures
Hoping
To not fail
And rely on
Rhythm
Not miracles
Sometimes
We reject
It gets boring after a while
Rhythm
Sometimes we do it in large groups
**** gets real with the rhythm
When the rhythm twangs too much off key
All asunder it goes
Rhythm with no flow
Scribbles on a paper,
Cross other colors
Make a unique mix
Maybe cross again one day
But God is better than me, so God sees those squiggles in different colors.  
Maybe God thinks I have a unique- colored
Squiggle
But that’s probably what everyone
Thinks

I don’t wanna know where we’re going
Planning is for the prepared
For you
I am ready
But not prepared

He's drinking too much
At 80 years old
Trying to dull whatever it is
That has settled into his soul
He wants to forget
All of the dirt
He has pushed under his rugs
And all of his drinking
Got me to thinking
That old man should get better drugs

You walked in
The room got smaller
You fill up every corner
Presence
You might as well have been wearing
A cowboy hat
With all that swagger
No high horse in sight
But a noble steed
Indeed

Too beautiful to look at
To stay so mesmerizing
Seeing doesn’t work that way
But getting used
To looking at you
Takes longer than anyone else
I ever knew

All the ladies craving a moment of
Attention from you
You are such a gentleman
This you gladly do
You are beautiful
It’s probably objectively so
I never heard someone say no
You’re the rare gem
In the sea of men
A pretty boy
Raised right
An amazingly precious delight

He often brings her pretty words
Which melt her icy heart
Her defenses were not ready
For seduction via art

There is nothing wrong with it
But it could be more right
With the right One
Right is rare
When it comes to romance
At least for me
I envy those who have it
It is what I yearn for
A partner
So rare
Yet people find their partners all the time
It is Magic I cannot control
Even when I blatantly try
I have my One
Out of reach
Shooting way beyond my station
I suspect someone will come along
Who captures my attention
Which, admittedly, is not a
Hott commodity
No one around is romancing me
Yet I am haughty enough to believe
My attention is priceless
The realest thing you can give to a person is
Attention
Priceless Attention

A history of subjugation
Via impossible circumstance
Is not a negative
It is pride
To have survived intolerable
Circumstances
Brought about
Against your control
Having slaves for ancestors
Only means
You had some badass ancestors
Who thrived in intolerable
Conditions
Pride.

I wish I was the type of romantic
Who felt confident in making
Forever promises
I suppose the right one
Doesn’t exist for me
I’m luckier than most
In lots of other ways
A one and only
Might be too much to hope for
Though so many people seem to find it
Or think they’ve found it
In reality
Very few actually do
But even still
They tried
It’s probably me who is the fool

There’s a man on my street
Who’s obsessed with his yard
Meanwhile he’s ignoring
His wife falling apart
Maybe it’s just a cause and effect
One of them must have started the neglect
She doesn’t even put her shoes on
Anymore
When she goes to the store
He’s out with his hedge clippers
And his women is wandering
Around in slippers
And a frown

But they got the neatest lawn in town

I know you
And your people
I know your hearts
Your souls
Y’all never have to work at being better
Which is why it is disbelieved
That you’re equal
But mark my words
When you are invited to the table
You will share
With all in need
Whether tribe or stranger be
You will share with all in need
And you will do it happily
And this must be
Your superiority

Racial tension and injustice
Answered by the internet
With hundreds of memes
Of old white guys
Teaching young black guys
How to tie ties
Well now
That makes everything all right
It’s not like they’re  really
Sending the message
Black kids have no father
Or social grace
And some white guy needs to
Step in to replace

I get closer
Every day

Let me rustle ya sheets
Get them bedsprings
Hopping to the beats
There be you and me
Salty sweet flings
Skin to skin of sweaty freaks

Dark times
Lately
Swimming in the murky waters
Of irony
A pimple long ready to burst
A ***** ***** mess
And the guilty party
Still insists they are the best
It seems to be the war
Of the self-entitled brats
Who think they deserve
To prosper
Cuz they got their old money
Search around there somewhere
And there's some form of slavery
And they walk around
Proud as can be

One day I am going to know what he smells like

At first
I thought it was confidence
But now
I see
You're just too ****
Pushy
Best to push
Away from me
Because I don't push
I kick.
Ya see?

Elevator
Pretty crowded
I say, “I’m so sorry
I just farted.”  
And then everyone
Can’t help but think
“Check out this girl,
Her farts don’t stink.”

How do you know me
Without knowing me?
But you speak about me
In your poetry
Clearly you be
Some magic genie
With a third eye to see
What’s inside of me

Excuse me,
Lady online
I’m playing Scrabble with
You are obviously not some mortal being
But a person who has ESP
Using your power
In scrabble to beat me
Or at least, throw me off of my game
Every time I’ve got the
Perfect move
You take my space
That I didn’t get the chance to take
And I appreciate that’s how you win the game, and beat the crowd
But psychic powers shouldn’t be allowed

My neighbors’ have a pug
With it’s little, invisible poo 💩
I can search with my eyes
And never find it
But it’s always picked up by my shoe
👟
💩

Punctuation is not meant to detract.  
Needlessly
!!!!!!!!!!!!  
!!!!  
!!
There was no point
For those exclamation point
(No point in plural(s) either)
Or this question mark
?
Was that a question.
Was that?  
This could go on for a while
Which is, the whole point of
Punctuation
Even pointless exclamation points

You don’t like to share your stories
No one asks anymore
History forgotten.

By everyone but you
Your past must have been painful
For you to have to go through
One day, when you’re ready
If you ever are
Walk with me on the beach
Under that daytime star
And wash your insides out
Empty them to me
Use and abuse my ear
Spit it out in screams and swears
Purge that **** right onto me
Demand to us both that you are free
Confessions made to the sea

And here come all the corny memes
With a man sticking his *** in the air
For the turkey to stuff
And how happy all the cows are
They don’t have to die that day
And the buckle hats
And glorified image
Of a cult
That started their own demise
Show me the Puritan
Today
I’ve never met one
That is what I’m thankful for
This Thanksgiving

You owe me nothing
Not one thing
Or non thing
The void of what you gave me
The void I left behind
Apparently
We did each other in kind
And we both will be just fine
You before me
But I will get there
Sometime
Down the line
But that’s what I get
For pursuing the divine

He takes me there
To the break
Before the waves
Crash in on themselves
He can almost hold back the tides
If I heard he did it, one day
I wouldn’t be surprised

Add in a little fear
Stir
Watch the machine take it up
Put a little in every cup
See the motor
Start to churn
Notice who hasn’t taken their turn
Push and **** them on your way
Tease, cajole, and have your say
This is progress
Babe
And you will thank me
One day

I saw your poem about how you hadn’t posted in a while
Because you were waiting until you wrote something worthwhile
And I wanted to tell you
Something that’s true
Or, at least, it’s true for me
Of all the critics in the world there could possibly be
I am the WORST critic of my own poetry
I’ll think something is great
And it just sits there, ignored, in unloved fate
While the stuff I just put up because it was there,
Corny and ugly and reader beware
Seems to be my work to which people respond
There’s really no way to tell
Which of your poems will hit who and how many
So put them up!
And put them up plenty
Give us torrents
Give yourself the release
Share all that beautiful poetry
And don’t stress yourself over what you think people want to see
The worst they can do is ignore it
But that happens to everybody