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badwords Dec 2024
Dead Poet, the name.
'Anarchy', the guise of change.
'Rebel re-run'? Same...
In response to:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4932312/her-breath/

How "Avant Garde" Mr. 'RA-RA-RA'... A a tired and overused and culturally appropriated, entirely arbitrary and completely limited in it's structure. When 'Boring needs to ratchet the dial up to 'THREE!" The poor sad abused and molested Haiku is number one for the poetic equivalent of having DoorDash simply deliver you a work for lack of effort to be wrought.

#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS#KILLHAIKUS

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4857198/obligatory-haiku/
badwords Dec 2024
She looked like a corpse on my front porch
Clutching the spawn of her latest divorce, saying
"Let's get the baby high"

"Oh little pig, little pig, let me in
I've traded food stamps for a bottle a' gin
C'mon, let's get the baby high!"

"For someone like you to get custody
Of an innocent child's a tragedy
No, don't get your baby high."

"Oh, just open up, I've got nowhere to go
My man threw me out and it's starting to snow
So, let's get the baby high!"

"I don't mean to question your parenting skills
But I'm really amazed that kid hasn't been killed
Please don't get your baby high."

"For someone like you to criticize me
Is really the height of hypocrisy
So, let's get the baby high!"

"There's no way in hell I'll open my door
I still have pictures from the time before
No, don't get your baby high."

"Yes I've traded my oldest for a couple a' lids
But it's none of your business how I raise my kids
Now, let's get the baby high!"

"For someone like you to get custody
Of an innocent child's a tragedy
No, don't get your baby high."

"I've asked you politely, now I'm gonna be mean
If you don't open up, I'm going to scream
Let's get the baby high!"

"You can scream all you want but you're not gettin' in
What you do to that kid is really a sin
Please don't get your baby high."

"For someone like you to criticize me
Is really the height of hypocrisy
Now, let's get the baby high!"

"It must be a boy because it's turning blue...
Oh, cootchie, cootchie coo..."

She still stood like a corpse on my front porch
Still clutching the spawn of her latest divorce, saying
"Let's get the baby high!"
Let’s Get the Baby High by The Dead Milkmen"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CgINw0KLBI

Let's Get the Baby High!
https://hellopoetry.com/onlylovepoetry/
badwords Dec 2024
Hope, is a shovel, it's digs holes.
Love is a conquest out of control.
Grace, station of not losing face.
Joy, the toy, running in place.
Peace, the subscribed feast.
Small people, doing their least.
badwords Dec 2024
Hades left, but no one cried,
The bar stayed open, life complied.
Another drink, another night,
The same old faces, the same dim light.

The jukebox dead, the neon low,
The bartender poured, the TV glowed.
Sportsball flickered, some team scored,
Nobody cheered, nobody roared.

A truck pulled in, a truck pulled out,
Engines growled, tires turned about.
The gas pumps clicked, the motel keys jingled,
The air grew cold, and collars mingled.

Nobody asked, “Where did he go?”
Nobody cared, or didn’t show.
They raised their glasses, tipped their hats,
The world moved on, just like that.

The sticky floors still held their own,
The fading lights still cast their tone.
The doors swung shut, the wind went quiet,
Routine returned, a steady diet.

In Nowheretown, it’s always been
A place of ends, a place of when.
Hades gone? It’s just one more,
Life shuffles on, same as before.
Previous:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4930058/2-no-where/

Start Over:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4930049/1-hades-lament/

Check out the Nowheretown Anthology:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/135790/nowheretown/


Go Nowhere:
https://kiloblitz.net/2024/12/09/life-of-nowhere/
badwords Dec 2024
She walks with grace, a quiet tide,
No need for doors; they open wide.
Her presence felt before she's seen,
A shadow cast, a space between.

Her hair a crown of chaos worn,
A tapestry of life forlorn.
Her alabaster skin aglow,
A canvas pale, the moonlight's throw.

Her voice is soft, a tender hum,
A song that calls, “Your time has come.”
Yet in her gaze, no cruel decree,
Just quiet truth and certainty.

Her steps are light, her path aligned,
No chains to bind, no wrath confined.
A necklace swings, an ankh, a key,
Unlocking what is meant to be.

She doesn't judge, she doesn't scorn,
She greets the weary, scarred, and worn.
No need for malice, force, or fire,
For all will answer her desire.

She whispers hope to those who weep,
A promise made, “Forever sleep.”
For in her arms, there lies release,
A final breath, a quiet peace.

Yet in her wake, some still resist,
Clutching life with trembling fist.
But even they will one day learn,
All roads will lead to her return.

Death is not the end they fear,
But a companion, always near.
With gentle hand, she clears the way,
And guides the lost to night from day.
badwords Dec 2024
Forgotten map, a name unworn,
A fleeting place where dreams are born,
Only to falter, thin and pale,
A shadow lost beyond the trail.

A strip of glass, of neon dust,
Where hope once flourished into rust.
The gas pumps hum, the motels sigh,
As endless highways pass them by.

The wind speaks low, a mournful tune,
Of fleeting stars and fading moons.
The people linger, tied by thread,
To ghosts of lives they might have led.

The young depart, their chances thin,
The old remain, their worlds within.
A landlocked isle, a sinking ship,
Where time forgets its iron grip.

Yet in the dark, the lights still gleam,
A flicker born of some lost dream.
The Last Call stands, a fragile throne,
Where silence drinks, and souls atone.

Hades walked its sticky floor,
His shadows etched on every door.
A king reduced, a man unwound,
The echo of this nowhere town.

And when he left, the air grew still,
As if the town had lost its will.
Yet Nowheretown, in brittle might,
Persists within the endless night.

No finish line, no final breath,
It simply waits—a quieter death.
A place for those who can’t move on,
A whisper of the world long gone.
badwords Dec 2024
I was a king of feral dogs,
Teeth bared, a crown of scars.
I carved my throne in crimson tides,
But the echoes of my reign still mar.

In Nowheretown, a purgatory plain,
I lingered where the restless wane.
A crumbling strip, a dying breath,
This sanctuary—a slower death.

The Last Call clung to brittle glass,
A temple for the lives that pass.
Sticky floors, the dimmest light,
A shrine to shadows in the night.

And I, its keeper, silent stone,
The weight of all my sins my own.
I drank to drown the barking pack,
But the ghosts of harm still pulled me back.

She came in silk, in cold November,
A porcelain face I’d always remember.
Her ankh swung low, her steps were light,
And yet, she carried endless night.

“It’s time to go,” she said to me,
“You’ve paid enough; now come and see.
Where we go, your glass won’t dry,
And the weight you bear, we’ll leave behind.”

I nodded slow, no words to say,
For what is left when debts won’t pay?
Not perfect, no, but I did my best,
And to retire—to do no harm—was rest.

In fading glass and failing light,
I left the town to its quiet plight.
Not as a king, nor as a man,
But as a shadow who simply ran.

Through her embrace, the end began,
Not absolution, but a plan.
To do no harm, for good’s in vain—
To leave behind the beast, the chain.

And as the November winds do howl,
I fade into the eternal prowl.
A feral dog, at last set free,
From the ghosts of harm and memory.
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