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No I will not write a poem
Obviously I will not
There’s no way anyone can make me
How come people keep trying
I know their efforts will fail
No matter how hard they try to
Great, now I’ve written a poem
God gave us the stars to shoot for
so we would have ***** other
than our sister or brother
eager to reach the shooting range we slammed the shuttle door
on our captain’s silver crown
in a sea spilling from His ichor
sack punctured by our hubris we drown-
memes and cat videos worth dying for

We set fire to the shuttle
gasp as our air begins to leave
Amazon(s) choose to scuttle
trees land and humans need to breathe
a musk most putrid rises as we cannibalize our space ex
who’s so far gone as to not come back
her zombie bridezilla tirade wrecks  
our plan it removes futures from the trajectory track

God gave us the stars to shoot for
so we reduced our target to soot
we revelled in our high score
not feeling the pain in our shot foot
and the cats still in secret revery dance their funny jig
sardonic wit stuffed still in every blank screen -small or large-
on the skeleton of our ghastly ghost space rig
reduced to rubble by a friendly depth charge.

God gave us the stars to shoot for
it was we who chose to use a gun
we chose to ram through the door
not checking if it was open
God gave us the stars to shoot for
leaving the details for us to decide
rockets to be built to make war or explore
as shuttlecraft for a human slingshot ride
an arching advance into the beauties of
our Creator made for us to enjoy in love
We met when you were small
a tiny white puffball
I placed a band blue
round your neck to
show you were my kitty

I knew so exactly
what you should be
good, kind, lovely, sweet
smart, fun, strong, complete
the package with loyal

and you were, so royal
without blemish or soil
upon your pure white fur
heart free of smudge or blur
your name was Snowbell

you grew to know it well
from birth to when you fell
crimson mottled splotch mess
stained your angelic dress
a broken vessel as am I

speaking of how you did die
your life story in my eye
tale of cuddles, head rubbed
rolling joyful in the mud
you spirit confined

by man’s wall defined
freedom’s what you pined
for ever gazing at door
shut stuck wanting outside

Petite Cherie, where now you reside
may sweet freedom fully abide
may you live without doors
fields of grass be your floors
enjoy them, please, it is your right

for this world which held tight
to be lost in pursuit
finally allowed to be you
I let go the band blue
but never my love for you

Petite Cherie, run, be free—
please wait patiently
for the time when we
both have naught but grass floor
no remnants of that shut door.
In memoriam of Snowbell (2005-2019)
She was the best feline companion this fellow has ever been blessed to have.
RequiesCAT In Pace, Petite Cherie
Is there anyone out there who still isn’t clear about what doing the Tinder Tango does to your emotional and mental well-being?

Okay, for the last last time...

Oh magic love guru box,
fulfiller of hookup dreams,
hope’s dope flocks
to your **** screen’s

ability to match
humanity’s what’s-left
for me with the right catch.

do you know I’m not bereft
of personality,
in lieu of a flawless selfie
of a perfect body
what I have is me;

hopeless romantic,
unabashed geek,
fantasy lunatic,
my D & D game’s sleek

as any bikini ***,
I’m your family size
deluxe dad *** god,
hope she’ll realize

I’m the right one,
in a world that’s left
her with no sun,
I hope she swipes right,
or there’s no hope left

matchfaker, matchfaker,
lose me a find, miss me a catch...

Tinder; it’s like putting a gun handed to you by a stranger into your mouth and pulling the trigger
Love is a disease
it starts with a carrier
unaffected by the pathogen
it knowingly spreads

Love is extremely contagious
so much as a single look
is often enough to infect

The carrier finds a victim
unaware of the danger
as eyes meet, hearts palpitate
spreading the venom quicker

Pheremones flood logic centers
neurotoxins inducing insanity
the jade wasp walks its prey
towards the regrettably chill flicks of net

That compel roaches to walk off cliffs
carrying flowers and chocolates
seeking a rainbow bridge of hope
finding no more than pretty-colored moisture

Nurturing parasitic demon babies that burst out of a scooped clean chest
a dine and dash leaving their guest
to pay the unsettled romance cheque
and the hotel room? left a wreck

Befouled by graffiti on room walls written
in what smells like Odin's *****

Roses come in more hues than red
Violets are violet not blue
There's more to romance than what's said
On some card conveying love to you
A poem written in a style influenced by the antipoetry movemement:

presented as part of a Dawkins’-meme based poetrycollection at the “Trash Talkin’” literary Conference at the University of Regina, in Regina, SK, Canada
I will have you know that you are in the mine-ority
If you don’t look at my pic and insta-click “like” on me
I thrive in this weblight, you subsist in ambig-you-ity
Mine is the looking glass of Aphrod-I-te
The un-My-ghty look on my aesthetic perfection and despair

I am the reason there is an earth
All was designed to usher in my triumphant birth
You are just hateful ab-you-sers and mis-you-sers

I am the oh-so-fleeting truth  
Present in a world obsessed with youth
I am only worth what others see in me

I embody the my-jority
My onscreen attention antics
Are the me-ssential components
Required to build a thriving Me-ocracy.
presented as part of a Dawkins’-meme based poetry collection at the 2019 “Trash Talkin’” literary Conference at the University of Regina, in Regina, SK, Canada
Oh Canada
You are one hundred and fifty years young
And across this great nation our many
Cultures are proclaimed as asset
Rather than liability
Or so the Head mouths
Until the Head attempts to ban its own niqab

How can We truly be free
When the Head proclaims:
“Smile, you’re on camera, oh patriot
You have nothing to fear if you but OBEY

If you allow our shears to slice
Your liberties free from you
A twisted plot device  
To put in motion
Taxes, taxes,
Bombings, bombings,
So We don’t fall down!”

The Mouth tells us:

“Your safety comes at a price,
Oh Canada
Safety is not a cheap commodity
Oh nation

We owe it to our southern Big Brother
To help enforce peace
It is time for us to pay the bank
What we are owed
Oh country

Like unto what Ginsberg once said;
‘It’s them Russians, them Russians,  
And them Chinamen.  
And the terrorist Boogeyman.’”

Head smiles approvingly at Mouth
As the Hands share Their gospel:

“Children, do not fret,
All is well so
Keep calm and carry on
we act to protect your safety
Feel the comfort of the
Flak jackets of the Watchmen
Strong and secure among us
Patrolling with tanks, guns, and teargas
All is well, little ones,
Let us tuck you in with a sweet THC sleep
we act as we do in your best interests.

The match which lit the state-approved ****
Snuffed out by the wind of the vox populi:

“We cry
Oh nation
Over the spilled blood
Of the unarmed soldier who died
Protecting the epitaph of the nameless
We mourn for the nation’s first
Whose land was unjustly taken
Their wealth pillaged
Distributed amongst *******
We weep for the babies  
Who cannot get into hospitals
Whose waiting rooms filled for hours
Because the doctors are too overworked
To deliver the children
Who will grow up to find
They have none of the skills
For any of the jobs

We cannot keep calm and carry on
Freedom is in peril
We must defend it with all our might
Protect what’s ours by right
The right to grow love
Not nuclear third arms
The right to be known as a people
Of bravery and longevity
Not platitudes and brevity
We have the duty to remember that we
Are the True North Strong AND FREE
Oh Canada
Your People Stand on Guard For THEE
* in response to Allen Ginsburg's "America". An idea conceived after the 2014 attack on Canadian Parliament, and perfected with  Canada's sesquicentennial in 2017 in mind
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