I’m  at work
Buzzing to get out of there
Out of the fluorescence
And the din of screaming children
As it downplays the howling heads
Of their mothers who
Dream of their children’s exposed
Necks and getting out of the grocery store
Before it starts to rain.

I am Bobcat Goldthwait
underneath
The large hanging lamps,
pale green as barge lights
I make little sounds with my lips
And tongue, little incoherent sounds
To push the time forward .

A man comes through
My line holding a beige patch
Of cloth
Over his exposed trachea beneath,

with a voice like he crushes cement
puts it in his coffee
and ***** it up through a fiberglass straw.,
He drops some
Toothpaste and a brush on the counter
And says to me with that mutilated
Voice:
“there are only two types of *****,
Big old *****,
And old big *****.”

His skin is blotchy in the cheeks
like the husks of craters seen from the sky,
and the corners of his mouth
are dry and cracked
snaking and splitting outward like dry riverbeds.

For a second I want to laugh so hard,
That people will think I’m crazy, and
Maybe one of the twitchy managers will have
Me committed.

If he says any more, it’s this:
“You’re young, enjoy it,
if you worry
About the fuckups now,
you’ll Be worrying
until you’re an old ******
and that doesn’t do you any good,
***** hates the old **** ups.”

Posh poetries in the minds of the youth
Aren't we all such genius minds?
(Doesn't that sound cool? I'm just puffing smoke!)

Pretty women, walking by
Men that lack a stronger eye
(It rhymes, but I mean willpower)

Just in case you didn't know,
I assume you do.
(Once again, I'm talking about my
analogies and wordplay)

Talking in text
Because face-to-face is awkward
But your smile downplays it,
And I'm happy to bask in it
(It being the awkward situation for you
grammar nuts out there.)

I figure I'd be funny
Poetry like Bugs Bunny
I just hope it's a little more "PC"
(Politically-correct, Bugs Bunny was not, though
funny he was.
If you don't know who Bugs is, educate yourself!
You sadden me.)

She downplays my emotions
I may be sad,
But she's depressed.
I may be stressed,
But she's been running around all day.
I had a long day,
But hers was even longer.

I am unhappy,
But my emotions aren't as important
As hers.

It is impossible to write an honest love poem
I'm sorry not every ****** noise I make sounds like a sumptuous sonata

The cork squeaks between my teeth as I go to take a drink
Lustful delusions come to me
Forbidden odd pleasure

And  I remember the seafaring man
Busting through the barriers to his one
Coming back home
With the scorching scorn towards the malicious storm
As he displays his immortality
And downplays the danger
Onward
Homeward
Forward
You coward

       -Tommy Johnson

The primitive violence engraved in wild animals, having to ****** daily to survive, downplays all that haunts us, people.
Does a fox lose it mate and not question where its gone?
How similar does loss and trauma feel in us?
To every, fear is the same.
I don't believe intelligence matters, we're all scared

Back in September, certain members
Of Congress learned from the CIA
In secret briefings that Russia had
Very maliciously found a way

Through cyber intrusions, for example,
To take advantage of circumstances
To sway our presidential election
By giving a boost to Donald Trump's chances

Of winning, which would have to be
An unprecedented stunt
By a foreign government
To meddle here. Such an affront!

Mitch McConnell and others chose
Not to believe what they had heard
From the CIA, and consequently
Decided not to spread the word,

Thereby allowing certain factors
To affect our election. Imagine instead
If the Russians had helped Hillary Clinton.
Republicans would have been seeing red!

Trump downplays the news, of course.
Through all of this, one thing is clear:
People hear--unfortunately--
ONLY what they WANT to hear.

- by Bob B (12-12-16)

The boy walks alone, angered
He downplays her death
He does not fear danger
He wants her lifeless, out of breathe

The thought is strong, it is real
The blade sharp, it is steel
The blood, it drips it pours
The pool is there, he wants more

The puddle, crimson and warm
Her face, no expression
She thought it be safe, her dorm
Her parents, soon in depression

He smiled as another is dead
Laughs as the it drips from her head
He loves death
He'll never forget her last breath

A day rolls on, red and blue
The pig asks, "Who?"
He watches from afar
Staring at her blood in a jar

The world, it mourns
As he sits in the shadows
Knowing her family is torn
He is a monster

He cannot be stopped
Another will suffer
He just cannot stop
He feels too much of a rush

He keeps the blood
He keeps the blade
He has a collection

He is an animal
He is, enraged

(nevertheless ex post facto still flattered
genuine heartfelt kinship mattered,
hence the reasonable rhyme
across the webbed wide world
I subsequently scattered).

Linkedin to the previous poem,
(similarly written scant few years ago.

I also codified, glorified, and lamented
an unexpected cessation of communication
with he/him who affixed yours truly
appellation of wise man, which modesty
of mine gently downplays.

Bhutan names defy affiliating,
determining, identifying... gender,
and what a faux pas this dada admits,
when a blessed high school
student did league gully tender

benighted, gifted, ordained yours truly
with sobriquet "Guru"
alluded to in previous poem, render
ring this foolish hearty good fella (me)
falling prey to embarrassing situation,

(I did miss render
as would be expected
from this crash test dummy,
who dented his psychological fender),
vis virtual mind ******,

when an initial presumption
smarted Matthew Scott as offender,
asper online youth NO pretender
by him, aye mean the sender
communicated his admiration,

adoration, adulation for this big spender
of sincerity, viz singular poetic magi - (ha)
made presumption that
unknown messenger slender,
and female, and

upon enclosing appender
referencing person as "lovely princess"
did respondent clarify finding deface
of zee poet here -
logic chops went thru blender

as if slapped by a suspender
experiencing irrevocable shame
as though a contender
attempting to guide false supposition
playfully mistaking ******

identity of male sender,
he (young kneeler)
bowed as winning scoring goaltender
down as mine professed

metrical feet, he who acquiesced
non Asian minor, friender
NOT seeking moneylender,
nor mistook my heart of gold,
mine apology I did obligingly surrender

and possibly chuckled to himself,
asper an uproarious hellbender
whereat my countenance turned
sixty plus four shades of lavender.

Well my dad has "a cancer"
And I suppose I want to write about it

I've just been to the chiropractor and
My beloved back ******* did something weird
Or I tensed as he heaved his mass
On top of my lower back to crack it
And now something in my right lower back dimple
Hurts

He collapsed on friday
Mom and I were home
It was a caustic flood of terror and dread
As we raced up the stairs
To find him
In the tub, unaware of himself

The screaming that ensued, the drag of the
Seizing, vomiting body to the floor
The wetness from his mouth
From his crotch where his body gave up its most basic functions as he left us for a while

Later he said he could still hear us
Screaming

I couldn't find my phone to call 911
I almost slipped on the stairs as I scrambled to the house phone

She was screaming "No! Estas vivo! Dios! Jesus! Estas vivo mi amor!"
She had her fingers in his mouth again
To keep him from choking on what was coming up
Even as jaw tightened and his teeth closed down around his fingers
Later I saw blood on his lip where
His teeth had clenched down on her fingers
And caught the thin skin of his lip there
Blood and bile on the corner of his mouth

I remember one doctor we talked to
Said she shouldn't put her fingers in his mouth
I tried to pull them out
Her eyes bulged from behind her glasses
His eyes lolled, glossy and crossed
The foam across his lips, the limp body
The tightening mouth

I realized I needed to call 911
I ran for my phone but could not find it
I flew down the stairs, nearly slipping on my white socks
Screaming "No puedo encontrar mi telefono! Mi telefono! Perdón!"

I wondered if the extra seconds spent
Getting to the house phone
Would make or break his life span
As I shouted "perdón", I clocked the irrationality of that thought
Surprised that in this moment
I had the wherewithal to begin to blame myself
And to also dismiss the self-blame

I found the house phone and dialed

Sprinting back up the stairs

Her screams were even louder
I was screaming too,
Who knows if there were words in my screams

Nothing strikes horror into me
Like the sound of my mother's gritos
Terror, shrieking, demanding he live NOW
That he come back NOW
I don't properly know the words to describe how she sounded
I've never heard sounds like this
Screams like this

Ratcheting terror, acidic piercing
It was not a wail,
Something in a wail has given up
This was a plead overflowing with fear and pain
While also a demand dressed in adoration and purest love
It was the sound of a child calling to her god
To save her love
The sounds of a wife demanding to her husband's
Earthly form that he STAY
The sound of a mother demanding to the child still living in this man
Invoking each of his cells to come back to her
Calling him back from whatever ether
She could sense him disappearing to

He wasn't slipping away
He was seizing and foaming
There was no peace
It was maybe the fullest sound I've ever heard
I'm sure I'll hear it the rest of my life

Then I hear the 911 operator
Her tone condescending at the screaming
My screams were guttural
I have no idea what place those screams came from in me
I'm sure having my mother to mirror
Having her fullness to echo caused me to panic further
My body that once lived inside of her
Heard that sound and nothing could be right
Everything was wrong
So I screamed and screamed,
Crying, guttural, shaking

The 911 operator said a few things and I heard her
I knew I could not speak kneeling there on the floor,
Everything in me, energy and body going out of myself
To these two who brought me to life

I leave the room and try to explain we need an ambulance
I tell her the address
Half way through the numbers
I hear my mother screaming again
And my numbers end in screams

I lean my forehead against the wall
I breathe slowly
And I explain the situation

Please send an ambulance
He's not conscious
Or is he?

I go back to the room
He is conscious
My mom is thanking god and holding his head
He is trying to brush her away
Feeling overwhelmed

He tells us he's going to stand up
My mother tells him no
He tries
I hold his arm and tell him no, you are not getting up
He says not to call an ambulance
My mother and I incredulous at his utter
Stupidity
The 911 operator tells us that he shouldn't move
He looks in my eyes and gives me his best death stare
I tell him no again
He stays on the floor and more vomiting begins

I grab a towel for him
It's not enough
My mother tells me to grab a plastic sort of square bucket thing from beneath a rocking chair nearby
I don't like that bucket though
And I don't think he would like it either
So I go downstairs to grab a mug
The 911 operator has become more sympathetic to our plight
I suppose now that I am no longer screaming in her ear
The ambulance is on its way

I pick a large flowery mug with a funny base and a round middle
My mom says it's not big enough
I go downstairs again and grab a bowl this time
I take it up but it's not right either

My mom insists I get the square bucket thing from under the rocking chair
I do
It's right
I go back downstairs
The 911 operator says the ambulance is in the neighborhood now
I cry a bit as she soothes
I selfishly take this moment alone in the hallway by the front door
With the 911 operator on the line
Soothing tones and soft "yeah, I know, that's pretty scary stuff"'s
Wash over me and I cry again
Telling her this is the second time
She sees that on the file

Out of the porch window I see the ambulance, I let her know they are here
She wishes me a good day and hopes everything will be alright,
I hold her well wish in my heart as I open the front door for the paramedics
They go up the stairs and to the right

My parents and I are slight people, we are all under 5'6 and petite
These paramedics are so tall and large,
Equipment makes them even bulkier,
They fill the space so completely,

I don't want to go into the room,
I don't want to watch him dismiss my mother yet again
When yet again it was her who
Beseeched, demanding, begged, pleaded, created
With everything in her
For him

And he brushes her away with a swat
Of his large knuckled hand
He's an old white man
She's a youthful Latina woman

Wearing pajamas, swollen eyes,
An accent giving equal parts joy and suffering to her words
Frizzy hair in a low pony tail,

The paramedics follow his suit,
They want to dismiss her as well,
They downplay the seriousness,
He downplays,
They downplay,
And she sits beside him anyway,

I leave the room,
I pet my cat,

I go downstairs to text the family group chat from my moms phone,
I still can't find mine,

My brothers are coming into town today
For dads birthday dinner tomorrow night

I text them them a brief synopsis,
I hear the paramedics upstairs joking around,
My mom is helping my dad change into other pants
In the bedroom,

They carry him down the stairs in a chair,
They take him outside to put him in a stretcher,
I say "I love you", he waves
I go upstairs to check on mom
She will be in a frenzy trying to decide what to wear to the emergency room

I tell her to put on sneakers
And that the hoody she had on was just fine
She is beyond frazzled
She has to change her underwear and get new pants too

I stand just outside the bathroom door
She puts on the hoody
Then throws it to the bed with the dramatic flare of whatever panic attack she is stiffling
I demand she put on the hoody
Grab her purse and go downstairs now

He needs to go to the emergency room now
And she needs to go with them,

She obeys

She leaves the house

The ambulances leave the house

Mercifully, I am alone

I clean up the vomity things
I wash the dishes
I put clothes in the wash

At some point in the madness my mom told me
To turn off the grill
There was a brisket there
And it shouldn't burn
I go back to the meat
I can't turn the grill back on
I try the same useless technique for several minutes

Savoring the crisp air
I feel a bit selfish again
Wondering if there's something else vital I should doing
But I realize that no
There is nothing more to do

I let a few juicy self-pity thoughts soothe me
I'm just a child (I am 29)
I shouldn't be cleaning up my parents ***** soaked pants
Calling 911
Cleaning his bile from a square bucket thing
Then I realize of course
I am 29
My dad is 80
This is what happens
Sometimes

Later at the hospital
They did some things they needed to do for him
He fainted from low blood sugar
He had been starving for a month or more
A growth in his esophagus
Not allowing food, water, even saliva to go down to his stomach
He had lost nearly 30 pounds in three months

He refused to go to the doctor earlier
In these three months,
Refused to be urgent when he spoke to the nurses or doctors
Refused to heed us that he needed to be seen immediately
But finally even his body could not resist his ego's need
To be okay,
And his body did what it needed to do,
To get the help it needed,
His body sent his mind away,
So that we might help his body,
Because he would not.

Now 6 days later I'm sitting in a Barnes and Noble writing this out
He's been released from the hospital,
He is home and eating again thanks to a stent in his esophagus
Next week there is a meeting with
The very nice oncologist
Today there was meant to be another procedure
But it got cancelled because of the stent
I am waiting on a call from the oncologist
Apparently she called us several times to let us know that the appointment was cancelled
But no one received any calls
I wonder what number she has been calling

We got up early this morning and went to the hospital
He didn't eat anything all morning and spent unnecessary energy walking around
He needs every pound he can get
But I breathe slowly
I can smell my charcoal and lavender deodorant
It's actually really soothing

Party in the USA is playing
I'm having a pistachio late
And right now, everything is okay

He is at home, eating some soup or something
Having a protein shake
He is stable and okay
It's all okay now

But it wasn't okay then
At all

And now it is okay
Which is hard to accept right now

I am exhausted.