I romanticize humanity until what's left isn't even human.
I cook up fallacies about legal aliens and add a dash of cumin.
Your chef tosses salads in the pasta section of the grocery store.
Devil's just as confused, with a ***** and an apology at heaven's door.
You don't know, and no one cares where eggs go when they die.
Godzilla thinks of a car full of clowns like you would a sardine pie.
What happens when an elephant gets alzheimer's and loses keys?
Does the paradox consume an entire circus of trapeze-act-fleas?
I ruin birthday cakes by blowing off the frosting instead of the flames.
How I do that? Count backwards from backwards and say my names.
Bittersweet love anthems pollute the brains of conscientious dames.
Heavy metal doesn't pollute, it pacifies rage quitting from soul-******* games.
Out of the woodwork comes a limp ***** that would work,
Long hours only to find he'd pay millions for a Miley Cyrus twerk,
Which is worth about as much as an all-female circle ****,
Unless you add strap-ons, so strap in and lap up the knee-****-smirk.
It is unwise to handle scissors when one is being cutting-edge,
Because your accountants will dangle themselves off of a three-storey ledge,
When you cut up the ledgers and make light of, that is, burn, the evidence of pledge,
To the monkeys in your think-tank mailing feces to the upstart farmer's hedge.
Now I know you're sick of rhyming and of poems and of liver culling whisky,
But I must inform you of a pirate's missing eye, I've bought sight of something risky,
I implore that when this song and dance is done, you'll assuredly miss me,
Because I've told you everything about depravity, hence forth you must kiss me.
Beacons of hope shine much like cantankerous silver in the moonlight.
If you're a werewolf that will fill you with hope and with immeasurable fright.
One day the world will admit that I'm awesome and impoverished to boot,
Because when the song and dance is done, what's left is just an ounce of loot.
Another poem from my vault that I forgot about.
I wrote this poem today, July 20th, of 2015.
Reading this, I was astounded by the wordplay I employed.
There are certain things I've forgotten how to do poetically.
My poems now are more thoughtful, story-oriented, and laced with meaning.
This poem up here is pure play - wordplay, poeticism, rhyme, contrast, shock, mayhem, chaos. When I wrote poems like this, unknowingly, I did my best to dance around meaning. I played with it. Gave my readers just a taste of meaning as I, with comedy, made a spectacle of words.
I loved playing with words to full effect at the time. I was going through a lot of psychic pain. My illness was rampant. Writing helped ease the pain immensely and gave me joy.
I hope this little poem made you laugh as it did me :)