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 Jul 2016
Terry Jordan
I sit satisfied
Smiling smugly
Ha!  I think.
Go ahead,
Just ask me anything you want to know
Go ahead.
I defy you!
Huh?
Whaddaya mean
Is it dark
Inside of
Snowballs?
Getting ready to move, I found this poem by my brother Danny Fitzpatrick, "Fitzy", who passed away in 2005.  It was great finding this since I'd been looking for years, asking his daughter Joey & son Tim to look also.  All I could recall was the title.
 Jul 2016
Nishu Mathur
He said with ardor that he loves me
That his heart for my heart pines
Of this obsession I see 
Insanely innocuous signs.
He called me his Winnie the Pooh
His panda and his dove
(Ought I lock myself in the zoo?
Seems I'm an animal that he loves).
He said that like an anthology
I was an interesting read
(He doesn't know the e of my etymology
For I'm written all in Greek).
He said that he would be thrilled
To have me as his wife
(But if I were to light his kitchen
He'd have a short shelf life).
He said that like the sky
My eyes were blue and deep
That my voice was a sweet lullaby..
(Dear me! Should I put him to sleep?).
He said that my pretty smile
Was as wide as a well made road
(Well, he'd have to run for miles
Before he reached my sweet abode).
He said that I was a Wonder
Like the great barrier reef
(I sure hope he goes down-under
I might get some reprieve).
I think it's really not me
That with fervor he thinks he loves
But what he wants me to be
For I am none of the above.
And when I am by his side
Like a bubble I do burst
From him, I must hide
For he brings out my very worst.
And so my handsome lover boy
He rants on and on
How atrociously he annoys
So ****, scram and begone!
 Jul 2016
Ja
One day, my wife
Gave me a kiss
So I asked her why
Now why is this

She said that she
Felt bad for me
So I quizzed her, what
What can it be

She said it’s just
Because you see
I’m real cute
And you’re, ugly

Oh, I’m only joking, she sighed            
Don’t get yourself all riled                        
And as she turned and walked away
She winked, and then she smiled              
BOEMS BY JA 48
 Jul 2016
South-by-Southwest
I was told a brain on poem was a terrible thing to waste . To which I retorted ,"Which one is wasted?"
 Jul 2016
The Lunchtime Poet
I'm the murderer
Who mowed my grass
Killing thousands
With a single pass

Driving over
A giant ant mound
Now there's none
Of them to be found

Running down
A cricket or two
I hate to say it
But I think they're through

Earthworms sunning themselves
In the sun so nice
Cutting them in half
With a single slice

Devastation on the insects
It did rain
Not trying to cause
Them any pain

I'm a quiet guy
Humble and meek
But when I cut my grass
I'm a killer once a week
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