"doggone" poems
Enter—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
There are crop circles dancing
in a wave on Neptune,
with corn rows gleaming from
the man on Mars.
Tail feathers toss toward a
flute near Venus.
Fly me like a rainbow
to the nearest star.
Sirius B
has nothing for me.
Anunnaki women want
to dig my scene.
Don’t take me seriously;
I’m bluffing like a rookie
with a pair of queens.
Moon Unit lands with a
Zappa on Pluto.
Yoda on Saturn
plays steel guitar.
Moses rides in on a
doggone quasar.
Captain Trips sleeps
by a medicine jar.
Sirius B has
something for me.
Hot Nibiru babes try
to make my dream.
Don’t greet me furiously.
I’ll drop you like a comet
heading to the east.
Exit—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
I don't know what Jonas has been preaching,
There's a pigmie on the roof
And claymores in the kitchen.
I never rejected nothing
Cept when I was dazed and dazed and confused and confused
If I wanted to leave
I would use the door I saved for later
That leads out into the void.
I need to take a day away
Or breakdown and watch Casablanca all day long...
Because I thought it was a forever song I was singing,
But I'm out of tune,
And my rheumy eyes are liars,
And I want to christen my great granddaughter
But I'll be dead...
I just wanted my declarations to resound,
But in a town of disrespect
Chain link fences make for noisy neighbors.
I have every bit of it on the line for YOU.
I'll drop it,
But it will stand on end,
Like a trick quarter.
Four in the morning
Forty five caliber bullets blasting
I found myself in the backseat
Of a burned up police car.
Every thing is rotten,
Except the infantine seamstress
Who doesn't come out anymore,
Because you scar(r)ed her.
I just wish I could eat a bag of salt brine soaked
Ballpark peanuts, shells and all without having a **** stroke.
I wish I could, smoke, without Jiminy Cricket, calling my doctor,
And the red squad arriving with the straight jackets,
And the bear mace.
I can't project the rigght radiation,
I get that, but its not for lack of dying.
So this is my death letter, to be read to my reincarnated infant self
Twenty three times, by twenty four different people,
I want a life size wax model of Eeivel Keneival
To throw rice at me thrice
Once for each marriage,
But on the third throw wild rice
Because that is what I think of when I think of you.
The burglar ate my begging strips
And the ravenous dog
Is getting impatient....
I've seen the truth in the darkness of the soldier core.
Why not open the gate to abracadabra land,
Give me a list of your one thousand forms
In code of course,
And I will pay the piper
So he can finally change this doggone song.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 6:56 AM UTC
When you see
the colorful little buggers flying,
it's somewhat comical,
almost amusing,
as if God gave
these winged creatures
the prettiest array of feathers,
the most beautiful beak,
on the planet.
But they pay for it,
it's huge,
it's so doggone heavy
they can't keep
their headsup
in flight.
Well,
maybe that's not funny,
they could hit
somebody
or something,
knock themselves out!
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 7:15 AM UTC
long hair long johns of sad happy
clear fog is the dog god doggone dog
kind of you to kind of listen
kindling burns like Hong Kong midnight brightlights
whose birthright, or birthwrong
down-under daggers for flags
flagged
flagulation
creative sensory compensated penitentiary
forward lad landing laughter for the last log on the fire
the last day for earth to say
please plead for plaid shirts to pay for themselves
otherwise there will be ****** for you to see
summer in the winter if I sprinkle a little bit more wood on my splinter
sink or swim, sink and swim, sink to swim
swim to sink
ah
um
oh
ehhem
undo your dress and undo your last mistake
please retake the photo so I can stay awake.
don't, I mean, yes
yes
hands could be cold
but
then
a
g
a
i
n
I just call it what I must
plustwo double yous in a zoo for the future flu's to cruise like truce
11/11/11 armistice
missed the list when you kissed my wrist
I extracted bliss from the Buddha's jist
just
cause?
just call for the muse music
don't mind me
I mean
yes,
yes
motorcade king of spades I got laid to the silence
of a forest in the poorest richness I've never ditched this
**** zip
zap
my zipper is a little critter crawling through the litter on the city's twitter account
doesn't amount to much but I sound like I'm salted in breath
dead like MacBeth, the challenge was the shaken speare
sprained everclear of the diamond tear or the shattered cheer of ancient seers
truth
is greater than fiction.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 11:24 AM UTC
pick the ending- 1 or 2 and any comments
standing at the bus stop chilled to the bone
just now realizing he was all alone
everything in his life had been destroyed
when he lost his little boy.
a father who is single trying to make it in this life
no family members and no wife.
his sons life had been taken by a drunk driver that day
when he sped through a red light
as he tried to get out of its way.
too many memories does he face-that he has to leave this place.
so many memories flood his mind
as he thinks what could he have done if he had the time.
the driver has convicted of drunk driving but not jailed
the judicial system to him had failed.
his son was dead and his life was shattered
nothing in this life ' now mattered'.
#1- two years had passed and he would now get revenge
the life this driver knew would soon end.
he staggered out of the bar and headed to his car
when the sledge hammer hit him across his knee
then another blow on the other knee, as he started to scream.
two more blows on each leg, and on the ground he would stay.
stuck in a wheel chair for the rest of his life
he's now paid the ultimate price.
or #2
he prayed every day for justice for his son
this man was still drinking and driving
and nothing being done.
the question always entering his mind
is this judicial system so doggone blind?
why wasn't this man taken off of the streets
are they waiting for more bodies in a crumpled heap.
yet! he always believed ' what goes around comes around'
and his justice will be found.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC
Such artificial nonsense rhyme,
That can turn art into slime,
And make your thoughts not worth a dime,
And words a total waste of time.
Throw away the limiting forms,
Burn all the idiotic norms,
Old-fashioned rules apply to fools,
No one but me plays with my tools!
The new trinity is Me, Myself and I!
I set the rules for every game,
And follow none, just the same,
Anarchy rules all, and that's no lie!
Iambic pentameter? Pyrrhic substitutions?
Who the hell cares about those illusions!
Counting syllables and each line?
Grand, old, pompous idiocy most sublime!
Write a sonnet? I'd rather wear a pink bonnet!
But if I do 15 lines it will be
Why, 'cause I say so, doggone it!
And no idiot ABAB CDCD EFEF GG
I am GOD and rule it blasphemy,
To follow both hard and easy rules,
That can make heads hurt, you'll agree,
Or burn in eternal hell as reactionary fools.
There is more art in a cow's mighty ****
Than in Milton, Shakespeare, Wordsworth and Pope,
If you can't beat them, marginalize them from the start,
Drag them through the mire to raise me up, that is my hope.
From now on all couplets shall triplets be, thus do I decree,
Come to me on bended knee and I will set you free,
Everyone's a poet, welcome to the new reality.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 1:51 PM UTC
I am the "Lap Cat".
"Lap cat"???
Why am I
being called a "Lap Cat"? --
Then the "steak" *** roast)
came out.
Oh yea . . . !
We be likin' the "steak".
In fact,
I'd do most anything -
even be a "Lap Cat" -
to keep the "steak" comin'.
Unfortunately,
two other critters
with whom I share this humble abode,
have discovered
my secret passion
and,
doggone it,
demand
their share of the loot.
In case you're bad at math,
this leaves less for me.
I'll just
have to
puke up the Meow Mix
a little more often
to accentuate my point.
The battle
of the (animal vs human) minds
has begun;
don't underestimate
the devious methods
of . . .
the "Lap Cat".
by-
Fred
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
I am in a room where the darkness writhes.
I am fine I am fine I am fine I am fine.
The silence—
It chokes me,
And still I swallow it down.
But in this doggone echo chamber
All I hear is myself.
I am going insane to the sound
Of my own voice.
I beg the shadows
“Please, don’t leave me
Here,
Alone,
Forever.”
I scream,
“SAY SOMETHING TO ME.”
I cry,
𝘞𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯?
Jun 14, 2024
Jun 14, 2024 at 7:38 PM UTC
Remembering you makes amnesia appealing.
There's no anesthetic for what I am feeling,
you high-heeled, cheating, cheap, double-dealing...
I'm rabid with rancor
doggone it.
You're only honest when you're not talking.
I'd rather get jiggy with Stephen Hawking
so don't come knocking if you need focking
Put THAT killer bee in your bonnet!
I wouldn't help you change a flat tire.
I wouldn't *** on you if you caught fire.
If you jumped off a building I'd wish it was higher.
Your photograph has my spit on it.
You're much less attractive than Nancy Grace
(who's an ugly slug with a monkey-butt face...)
I hope you're abducted to outer space!
I've got one more shot...
Do you wannit?
Do I feel angry and hostile? You bet!
I've become bitter as bitter can get!
But, baby, you haven't heard anything yet...
Wait 'til I write my next sonnet!
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
Elusive, but far from intrusive, if
You asked me to describe him.
When you had his attention,
You were his sole focus.
“Attention must be & was being paid,”
Mr. Miller’s words immortal,
Arthur’s epitaph for Willie,
Little Man Willie Loman,
Wee Willie, Willie Loman,
The punch line you expected:
“Exact, demanding & deserved.”
But, ah . . .
Elusive flake flits on,
Leaving you speechless,
Verklempt, inhabiting a
Dry and drooping,
Dark and dreary
State of ****** . . .
(If you dig, my Edgar.)
In short, he is sorely missed.
Marvin Gaye - I'll Be Doggone Lyrics | MetroLyrics
www.metrolyrics.com/ill-be-doggone-lyrics-marvin-gaye.html MetroLyrics/ Blowing my money all over this town. Then I wouldn't be doggone. Hey, hey, I'd be long gone. Then I wouldn't be doggone. I'd be long gone. Now hey, hey, hey . . . (Thank you, Louie--my agent who sells ad space in my poems. The poet, for once, rejecting the die in the gutter, art for art’s sake career track, making poetry pay for a change.)
Simply put:
He’s no longer here or there,
“He wouldn’t be gone long.
He’d be long gone.”
Not just emptiness.
Absence.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
Tried my darndest to forget, but should have known
That doggone memory of yours has a mind of its own
Never lets up, forever haunting me like a megalomaniac
Peace for day or two, then without warning it comes back
Take some pills or get drunk to forget feeling of being sad
But, next morning your memory is back and twice as bad
Keep busy at work, think positively and try not to feel blue
I relax and unwind it takes over again, **** memory of you
Up and left without notice, you ran off with another man
For weeks crying myself to sleep, not able to understand
Wasn't enough? piercing my heart with a venomous spear
Please take your memory back and just make it disappear
Had some fabulous times with you, there's nothing I regret
Please keep your memory to yourself now and let me forget
Mind becomes a bit clearer each day as apart we have grown
Home alone at night your memory comes back, mind of it's own
To get on with my life now would make me so very very glad
Even the fondest memories of you now only make me feel sad
Nothing I would love better than to meet another woman one day
Won't happen if you don't take back your memory and pack it away
Need to do things properly, don't like to do things by halves
Got rid of your clothes, belongings and all the photographs
Now at night when I can't sleep I look up to God and I pray
Ask if he'll get you to come and take your dang memory away
Always thought your memory would be something to keep
Not now! it gives mixed emotions and keeps me from sleep
There's nothing worse I reckon than having a grown man cry
With your memory bugging me I just want to curl up and die
Heartbreak and pain is worse every day, so I've discovered
Please help me, by keeping your memory home in a cupboard
Keep it to yourself and don't let it loose to wander and roam
Please control that memory of yours, it has a mind of it's own
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 9:24 PM UTC
My babe is the sexiest kitten I know,
she's meeker than a lamb & bolder than a lion,
there's no denying, she's tastes like the sweetest ****
captures my heart with everything she does,
I feel her genuine love for me,
all the time.
I'd be lying if I told you she was mean,
there's not a single bone like that in her body.
She's never shoddy, she dresses to the hilt.
From her birthday suit to her tight fittin' jeans,
everything about her is so doggone cute.
She's a romancer & a fantastic dancer,
the way she moves is smooth like butter,
her undulations are exquisite & exotic,
she wins all the awards for being ******
nope, definitely not neurotic,
yep, hypnotic.
Oh sure, she can cook & sew & keep a clean home, but she's so much more than all of that.
She knows what you need to know about motors & tools & paint & plumbing & guns, too.
I dream about her a lot,
know how supercool she is,
she's so much fun when
she comes alive
out of the lonely
recesses of my mind,
day and night.
I never miss her kisses,
'cause I just make them up
& whenever I want another,
there's no reason to fight her,
she smothers me with a lot of them.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
The note that read,
"It isn't my cup of tea
and it's too hard to shoot
when made too blind to see.
I couldn't make it.
It fills them with hate
and they never lend me ears
when I prognosticate.
They ripped my pockets
for the things I never had.
I was killed everyday
and now killed to death.
Thus death never killed me
but welcomed me abode"
It chiseled through my doggone heart
when I read your death note.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 8:30 AM UTC
fast as a blitzen comet,
this dashing prancer
contra dancer
(i.e. Rudolph nary hoof) didst zip
with cupid ditty toward his ***** wife,
who loosed a suppressed yip
asper one discovering remains of the day
from the donner
(newt the majority) party whip
ping her olive drab camouflage attire,
as if she hapt to be a vip
endlessly congratulating herself
(and bow wowing her ego) bing awarded
the housekeeping seal of approval,
and expected me to tip
her gore gee us Martha Stewart déclassé
snoop doggy dog rendition
as she did slip
agilely (with broom and dustpan in hand) rip
peat head lee uttering
an apropos Mary Poppins quip
booting muck can clear across to Compton
(wherever that might be) pip
pin like a cat on a hot tin roof,
where no cure existed to nip
in the bud at this stage,
and rid thine beloved Narberth bride,
who caught a bout clean destine
feverish frenzy to make house beautiful,
oblivious to beseeching despair,
sans this husband who cried
plaintively imploring divine intervention,
lest extreme heroic measures
need be taken, thus guide
me asap before her blistered hands
rubbed red as tender (vittles) raw hide,
which could find her catatonic, doggone
ill eagle lee flying a boot
like a bat out of hell, and stupefied
hence, this urgent message typed out in a huff
for less severe invasive
experimental treatment truly tried
on this, that, or some other missus so and so
.....please pardon this abrupt end,
plus initial idea wide
lee differing from my initial intent won
during how to write an elegy to mister son
describing, how aye felt enervated with run
hills of beaming solar rays, oh how none
synthetic drug to bathe,
enhance, suffuse away mon
day moody blues,
and now...gotta tend tummy ***
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 9:21 PM UTC
the dog, strains against
the leash, tied to the
no parking sign.
all, quivering white
and caramel fur
docked tail, ears up,
eyes bright and
searching, searching,
for his alpha love.
water bowl, full,
next to him,
ignored.
eyes firmly set,
to the grocery store
door,
quivering, wriggling,
animated, anticipation.
every time, the door
swooshes open,
a double yap.
"i am here.""i am here."
doggy devotion,
denied by food health regulations, master inside,
but i am here waiting,
still.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
If putsch comes to shove,
aye ain't no doggone fraidy cat
nor chicken little
fearing coup d'état,
yours truly simply
risk averse, and more exact,
he stays sequestered
within these four walls,
cuz tis safest inside this flat
always... mein kampf,
I remember when fertilization begat
after nine months in utero...
ah dat womb dar full habitat
i.e. ****** cradled humanity, whereat
teeming bajillions primates
peopling planet Earth
couples made lovey dovey after spat
(which species among
other flotsam and jetsam),
got shot out (think) analogous
muzzle loaded gat
excellent marksman aimed
then squirted packed heat hot
as summer temperature
gets within Gujarat
recorded courtesy, thee
oldest functioning thermostat,
albeit microcosmic primordial vat
testy sea men don
(May comb hairy
gah great again) conical hat.
I surmise proto humans
especially storied hall
(conjured in Peer Gynt
by Edvard Grieg
of mountain king)
trumpeted, tooted thwacked,
and announced presence
courtesy posterior primal mating call,
which vibrant cheekiness heard all
around the mulberry bush to Gaul
hmm... maybe e'en hot air
inspired Marc Chagall,
while sitting atop porcelain throne,
nonetheless scandalous
****** blasts methinks help explain fall
of Rome, whereby noxious
generated silent but deadly nauseating
noisome pall mall
felled friend and foe alike
analogous on minuscule
scale to Chernobyl
level 7 nuclear accident
also linkedin, when
Polar Vortex doth stall
across avast swath planet Earth
forcing quick thinkers to marshall,
what (mathers) matters
such as... antique pinball
machines worth a mint,
a ***** to install.
Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 5:30 PM UTC
Nationwide Insurance twas on my side yay
cuz, earlier this July forth
two thousand eighteen ja way
windows closed, doors locked, and
car keys visibly splayed
on driver seat oye vay
feel free to call me a horse's *** today
utter anxiety compounded,
plus unable to locate master key,
thence fodder for poem and more to say
rifling thru boxes without success,
an impulse arose to call road
upon learning policy
doth include locksmith service,
ah felt less doggone snappish,
and uttered hoo ray
though modest aye,
congratulated awesome,
fulsome, and handsome
self on quick thinking,
and automatically became less tiresome
pondering for no particular rhyme nor reason
(as a getaway) Panama or Paraguay
then immediate decided,
sans ditto explanation,
but no how and nay
yet honest to dog suddenly felt
like a young lovestruck lad
during month of May
and without further delay
a compulsion arose
to putter along, though
momentarily gazing heavenward
and counting (just beak caws)
glistening black crows
plus painfully aware
a spike in recurrent
"senior" moment of forgetfulness grows,
thus starkly aware significant rustiness
increasingly, frightfully,
and chokingly coats
lix spit tillage harrows
resuming schlepping dishabille
crotchety bedeviled aching
body electric irksome
with fringe benefit (such as
momentary lapse of reason)
quite aware mettlesome
ness of youth nonrefundable,
non-reliable, and non-retrievable,
and guaranteed continued
pricking, viz nettlesome
degenerating aging telomeres,
sensate perspicuity, and oxysomes
leaving a once robust person some
what discombobulated
and easily toilsome.
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC
Less any objection with the missus,
versus never experiencing living alone
well...yes during that rough patch,
(sans during early adolescence),
I existed in a bone
huff fied impenetrable cocoon,
and just maybe before
yours truly dies, a clone
can be created from
stem cells of this doggone
melon collie, whimpering
beastie boy finally revelling,
where destiny does enthrone
me rendering unfettered
with round the cluck nymph fone
mani yolk hen pecking, nagging,
and leaching... from blood *******
vampire spouse foregone
as a "bad" dream worse
than getting Rhode
Island sized gallstone
removed subsequently
saving said as gemstone
whiling away hours, days, weeks...
chiseling away at my gravestone,
no matter yours truly will get cremated
ashes scattered, liberated, and dispersed
finally exempt from grindstone,
where thee spirit
of Math Hew Homophone
Scott Harris appeased
as powdery gray flecks
similar to limestone,
that swirl reintegrating with Earth,
this quirky I poetically intone,
and soundlessly utter from jawbone,
perhaps communicating more
clearly by knucklebone.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 5:15 PM UTC
SOoo,...it's popcorn for dinner...
...how the gin soaks up the hours...
scouring some words...
To/bring/an/end
The END
{no epilogue required}
...To the aching spaces in my marrow
The Binding/Cinching
across.my.chest
...the natural consequence;
every time I think your...
Name.
Because the whiskey won't do
O
R
the wine or the smoke
...it's just me
~And my dog~
...wondering...
what is to become of me.
And
I was f i n e before I found you,... how-we-wish
you'd come
...Fetch me.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 2:25 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Seems I’ve over dosed
On politics
And cable TV
Gives me my fix
I watch it for interest
As well as for kicks
When I know that all of ‘em
Are nothing but *****
I’ve listen to pundits
‘Til I’m blue in the face
When I should have ignored them
But in any case
I get a thrill from
Watching the race
And wondering who
Will come in in first place
It shouldn’t be hard
For anyone to understand
Why I’m in bad need
Of some Narcan
Cuz I’ve overdosed
More than most man
And when I started out
That wasn’t my plan
I’m in bad need
Of a rehab
But I’ve said no, no
Doggone it dag nab
So if I’m not careful
I’ll wind up on a slab
From ODing on someone’s
Gift of gab
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC
Wynken Blynken and Nod???
(ah...oh methinks this pissant pooch woof lee
barked up the wrong tree –
reed don my mongrel friend)
This poetic endeavor doth not boast nor brag
to take digs on front page
headline grabbing news, nonetheless dag
nab bit significant dysfunction prevails
when ****** energy
does shutterfly like a black flag
without rapid eye movement,
this lix spittle chap
feels like an old hag
whereat every friggin bone (er)
in this straggly,mangy, and creaky ship
of state feels like jag
head shards piercing thine flesh
with pronounced jet lag
and reacts with
the slightest provocation
like a curmudgeonly
cranky compromised nag,
yet, this muttering mouth foaming
flea bitten doggone chow barker
bows down in (toto) obeisance
(like an obedient Dachshund)
tail wagging, trump petting,
and snout sniffing out provenance
on par with the smell of new sofa despite
fur vent angry ma
stiff masta paws zing
aghast at dog eared, glom haired,
and icky stained new furniture,
how petty, versus slumber
lest awakening the Cerberus within,
hence faux long enough
to excel as the top notch mix breed
boxer golden retriever terrier
male delivery postbag
(as taught at canine obedient school)
upon spilling contents,
the bulk of printed material
detailing importance,
sans letting sleeping
Canis lupus familiaris lye undisturbed,
especially after a bath
when pooch resembles
a limp dish rag
all apropos hot (gravy trained) relevant
topics for instance,
when feeling sleep deprived
detailing how to shepherd
and summon the snoop doggy dog
inchoate hounding gnarly
Marley elusive dream
fostering feigning fearsome nightmare
asper getting lost without a name tag.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:57 PM UTC
in the I am not sure
how maybe my pets might be my keeper
at times,
and there is profound
and there is doggone wise,
and slow to come to you
or answer to any name are cats,
but they seem to absorb my
worry, and wag back at times,
mostly when the stove is on,
and if I project emotions
upon them, they never seem to mind,
or go off on rants,
especially when they see I am depressed.
They have only ****** on me
when I was happy.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
Do It Again
my baby broke my heart
then she kissed it and made it better
her kisses or so doggone sweet
they seal every letter
she sends to me notes of love
the kind that make me shiver
thinking of her tasty lips
she makes my body quiver
I sometimes make her very mad
it makes her bite her lips
but when I hold her very close
both hands around her hips
her eyes light up with a smile
and start my kisses at her chin
working my way up and down
she says please do it again
Gomer Lepoet...
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 7:06 AM UTC