"zookeeper" poems
Let out my ego and sense of order this comes from beyond this comes from the me between me if I listen I may hear it speaking, it's sleeping but talking and rocking, not still, and perhaps it awakens, perhaps it will open its eye but we mustn't depend on the idea that once he has opened his eye the whole dream of the world will just fade like my dream tomorrow morning which I already know I'll forget, like specific angles and perspectives of specific places in space and time that have slipped away but once in a while break through to consciousness
Like the sliding breakaway walls of Timber Drive elementary school
Or the rippling pond into which I fell and the old smile and laugh of my flesh and blood rescued me and held my body afloat in the air for a moment; and once I was the proud owner of a wind powered hovercraft, another invention spilling out onto the table of attention like the actual pig intestines the popular girl's parents used in her science fair project, the one that dragged on until the last monkey refusing to be locked up with the windows 98s in the archaic computer lab was tranquilized and convulsed on the gym/cafeteria floor in front of the PTA, who'd peed blood all down the front of their sweatpants; he was firing wildly hoping to commit suicide by zookeeper
Not knowing that humanitarian laws would prevent him from achieving his bliss, for the monkey knew as the Gnostics did that to bring a child into this black iron prison is a sin.
Did the Jonestown Kool-aid free them from the prison? Do they now walk among gods within the kingdom of the heavenly spirit? None shall know until the 13 crystal skulls are re-assembled and total gnosis emanates to the people in globe-spanning shockwaves.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
I remember well my first day of preschool
When the teacher taught us the Golden Rule
And how we were all God’s little caterpillars.
I remember the love I bore my stuffed horse
And how tightly I hugged my stuffed dog with great force;
I would be the world’s best zookeeper.
I remember my parents’ copious gifts of books,
How they were more important than my friends’ good looks;
Their stories still represent my dear childhood.
I remember the first time I discovered music of my own
Through a 90s band CD I had as a loan.
I danced with my headphones like a dryad.
I know the exact date I noticed at last
How much of my life friends had seemingly surpassed
And I vowed that I could never again be happy.
The stories were never again a fully open door,
More like a ditch dug out in the floor
Behind which I could hide my face forever.
One day, songs became a desperate race
To see who could sing and play bass,
So I’ve dropped out like a sixteen-year-old kid.
Now, lying under the stars thinking of this and that
I actually cower from the once-beloved animals like cats
Because they have uncomfortable interest in worms.
I was better off a caterpillar.
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 3:58 AM UTC
We slump on the couch when we return like lifetimes
have passed before us.
We have to, even though it was only a seven minute walk
to the dining hall, because 1) the food was just
“weird consistency”
(which we tend to say regardless), 2) the light
in there yawned indifferently to us (when does it not?), and
3) the reassuring clink of our forks on our
plates wasn’t even there this time it was
hiding underneath slop
and smothered on top by the intruding sound waves
(who asked?)
of our next-table neighbors’ lives.
You made a sly remark about seconds to catch
a glimpse of youthful ****
She’d gone to get some more baby carrots and cucumber slices
to put in her salad maybe
(who knows? who cares?)
Either way, her youthful **** would make the food taste like
something to you. And you
described them to us when you sat down again so
the slop would taste like something to us
(there’s pride in that type of generosity, don’t forget) and
(congratulations)
we had the faint impression of
some sort of
****** there, but
we didn’t tell you
(it’s easier that way).
A cup, a squeeze, a kiss on her ******* yes that could feed
our hunger for a night. And tonight was a night
like any, so her ******* led us to talk
of women, and women led us to talk of
love
(and the blooming one for the poor *******
as we who lost withstood the vicarious twinge of
an addling ****** very different from
the first.
This one led us to pine for sweets, but the ones we found
were dry, so we left the table, left the dining hall, looking around at
the others: the lonely, the couples, the blessed
lonely couples, and the fortunate friends
huddled against everything with open laughter, enjoying
the weird consistency like drunk theoretical physicists before
they discovered bubbles and inflated eternally meaning
when they safeguarded a
zoo with a pistol they didn’t know how to
use, in Soviet Russia.
(So you see?) We have to slump on the couch
when we return like lifetimes
have passed before us.
No one even bothers to pick up a guitar, we leave all four of them
strewn on the floor like
dead wooden boxes because
Dylan or Young or Cash (or whoever)
is already in the living
room. Any
bubbling, inflating, theoretical physicist
(any drunk, pistol-packing zookeeper, for that matter) will
tell you that.
So we slump, comfortably uncomfortable,
(at least we’re trying!)
feeling their (our) strings plucking. No sounds, no voices.
Because we don’t need
to hear this that.
Not right
now. (Not right
now).
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
.*pre-scriptum alternatives... either a bus-driver... or a garbage-man... ha ha... Leibniz... was a ******* librarian!*
a zookeeper,
a warden in a prison...
or some obscure,
accolade role
in an asylum...
i'm being pushed the role
of a chemistry teacher...
mind you... i know that the best
way to pet cats,
is to "ignore" them,
let them play their
solipsistic hide & seek game
with plain view of the target...
but i'm thinking of 3 dream jobs...
horticulture isn't an option...
must be the sort of man
with a floral pattern
rather than a sky-scraper
in my underwear
to provide gender
exclusive role play...
whatever the hell the means...
but teaching children
chemistry?
d'ah ****
i want to be on the forefront...
a gorilla zookeeper,
a prison warden,
an accolade
for what's the upper tier
of nursing,
namely, inside an asylum...
but i won't ever get a chance
to prospect myself for such roles...
hence the poetry...
given that i'm a chronic drunk
in England, but a sober
sparrow in Poland...
come to think of it...
i'm ever only drunk,
when i start talking...
alone, drinking?
i can catch a judge
play-thing sober...
but those are my dream
jobs...
and in all three instances...
none, are advertised for
potential applicants...
like a safe pass into a business of
past, trans-generational funeral homes...
just like they said:
it's not what you know,
it's who you know -
unless of course there's a merger,
and you're thinking
about emperor Nero stabbing
himself in the neck...
within the confines of a self
acknowledgment, "question".
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 8:29 PM UTC
Tiger land we got the virus
You thought animals couldn’t get it
But a tiger got it and
He was from the Bronx zoo in New York
He got it from a zookeeper
Really that it is bad
That this tiger got the virus
We should watch out for his class
That this tiger could do more than
Bite if you annoy
To every girl and boy
He could give the virus to everybody around
And the tiger doesn’t have the knowledge to wash his hands
Like the humans do
But this tiger can spread the virus
To everybody here
If they touch body, nose and ear
Tigers can spread this virus
So how are we going to
Keep this tiger in isolation
He won’t perform on social media
Cause he is a cute tiger
And god knows if a tiger could get it
He could escape and do more than
Bite our *** to death
He could spread the virus for our deaths
I rhymed death with deaths
Who cares because a tiger has the virus
And hopefully they can keep this tiger
Safe and in quarantined forever and ever
Orange and black
Keep this tiger safe
Oh yeah
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 9:43 PM UTC
Postman
and poet?
love letters in mail
Accountant
and poet?
precision, detail
Archeologist
and poet?
sifting for feelings
Electrician
and poet?
a jolt
leaving one reeling
architect
and poet?
drafting with words
Zookeeper
and poet?
singing of birds
Bus driver
and poet?
observing life's roadways
Minister
and poet?
perhaps how he prays
Lawyer
and poet?
though about win or lose
her poetry just might amuse
Economist
and poet?
Aren't we all that?
though we wear different hats
distilling things downwards
saving on words
whoever you are
whatever you choose
listen, observe
welcome your Muse!
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 10:03 AM UTC
A careless zookeeper lost the key to a cage
A lion sneaked out ,
said good bye to its cubical home
Curiosity was the urgency to flee
Surveying a potential new residence
Perhaps seeking new environment...
Lion was excited to discover
The excitement of the world outside his zoo...
He ran and ran as he had his golden chance
Soon he'd find out the reality of life
in the human zoo...
Will he be Spending the nights
reminiscing the place and his people
those he had left behind. ... ?
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 12:46 PM UTC
She was a girl with soft lips and a hard heart. One you kinda veered off from when you're next to at the mall. She was lovely specimen of perfume and paint which soaked her veins and made me enamored with her sweet perfection. And before I knew it, I was a victim of love itself. Love, one of innocence falls solemnly to its unknown vices, unaware of the pain and terrible heartache one can be trapped after loving someone. I loved her without hesitation. I loved her without holding a single song back. I loved her, with the knowledge that she may never see me throw cupid's spell that little naked babe cast on me. She was a mystery. One who kept to herself as if she had been a victim of pain brought on by the horrible tragedies that love can create. Maybe that's why I was so in love. She was a caged tiger, still incredibly beautiful yet dangerous to the touch. Only distance would protect me, but I was like a zookeeper. And distance was not an option. I could no longer look from afar. I was done with just looking. To feel her brown gold locks against my skin would be as if I'm lying china silk. To have those diamond eyes look at me with kindness and affection would be staring at the face of a cherubim. A ****** from sins of this world who would be the very one to restore my soul. I was enchanted, infected, and very much obsessed for this girl was…unfathomable and one I could only write about, so I did.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 12:56 AM UTC
I am a little boy again
Is the supermarket empty?
I am the ugly duckling
Is there life outside the pond?
I am a cub in a giant cage
Is there a zookeeper?
I heard there was an oasis beyond the desert
My warmth adds up, the numbers don’t
My spirit searches, my mind wanders
There are a billion faces behind my own
Is one of them me?
I clutch my teddy, violated
Looking for a lake to wash in
I slap on a face before I go out
Zane, Zack, Z’karyah, kotch, Psalmspitter,
Tenderfoot, Buddha, Dylan, Matthew, MiaR
I look for shalom, but find chaos
A thousand roads forward and back
Do any of them lead me home?
Where? What is that?
Sides draw battle lines, I am cut in two, or three, or four
As the little boy inside me tries
To figure out what to search for.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
The monkey mocks
the lion rages
it doesn't matter, in separate cages
zookeeper smiles
at the war he wages
the seals perform on the stages
the hawk escapes
the bear wishes
the zookeeper collects his riches
the lion roars
the monkey flinches
the crowd watches from the benches
the elephant gets ignored
nobody wants to mess with the elephant
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
If I wish on a star
Will my dream come true?
Will it end all my fantasies
And my dreams of you?
I hate that I love you
Your smile, your touch
I hate that I love you
When you hurt me so much
Without a care in the world
I used to trust and believe
And without a care in the world
You savagely made my heart bleed
He was my Zestful Zookeeper
And I was his Lovely Ladybug
We had a 'once in a lifetime'
We were undeniably in love
We shared the same spot
In our cozy bed at night
I slept right on top of him
I love how he'd hold me so tight
It was the lyrics to a song
That won me his heart
It was his innocence and humor
From him you couldn't tare me apart
Yes we had problems
Like all relationships do
But I swore I'd never see the day
When ours came so quickly unglued
We had a studio downtown
It was our sweet home together
It was also where I found him
With that girl, his secret lover!
I tried so hard to be strong
I tried to hold it together
But he maliciously murdered my soul
I see it in my mind just play over and over!
Now I'm scared to fall asleep
It's only of him that I dream
Maybe it's God's way of reminding me
Nothing is ever what it seems
.......So time has passed
And I tried to move on
Now it is him that is tortured
So he keeps singin his song
With lyrics of regret
He sings of sorrow and mourn
He left me heartless and cold
He left himself alone and self-scorned
So I look into the night's sky
And what do I see...
A beautiful falling star
I hope was meant for just me
If I wish on this star,
Will my dream come true
That I'll never dream again
And I'll stop loving you?
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
A zookeeper makes a lotta fuss
Over a zoo's hippopotamus.
For if it gets sick,
Its hide is so thick
It's hard to find a phlebotomus.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 3:00 PM UTC
We walked the Topeka zoo
yesterday and looked at
all the animals being held
against their will.
The angry zookeeper
told us about the bear
that got its head stuck
in a peanut-butter jar.
“It’s not a laughing matter.”,
he said.
The children laughed anyway.
“This bear would’ve died,”,
he said. “if we wouldn’t have
come along and taken him out
of the wild, removing the
peanut-butter jar, and nursing
him back from starvation.”
The bear was asleep in a thin tree
above our heads.
He’d climbed up there to be closer
to the warm sun,
my youngest son advised.
I wondered if he hadn’t climbed
up into that tree to sleep farther
away from the din of his jailer’s
voice as he shouted to the herds of us
who’d paid our six bucks to stand in
the cold and listen to his angry
voice tell us about peanut-butter jars
removed from the heads of bears and
how that’s what it takes to save lives
around here.
No one asked the zookeeper
or the bear if either one
of them still liked peanut
butter eaten straight from
the jar.
No one asked if either one
of them ever missed their
mothers.
We just watched the bear
sleep in the crook of the
highest branch of that
thin, leafless tree.
His head lulled into the
crook of his elbow and his
*** dangled in the chilly
air.
I suppose he was dreaming
of escape.
Maybe he pondered, dreamily,
what that zookeeper tasted like.
Perhaps he dreamed of peanut-butter
eaten straight from the jar,
knowing his head wouldn’t get stuck
anymore.
But, I bet he was dreaming
of his mother.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 5:40 PM UTC
Before Noah left the house,
he fed his pet cat and mouse,
he looked in front of his feet for bugs,
so as not to **** any little beetles or slugs.
Noah was a zookeeper who loved animals with a love that was more than love.
He got to work that Monday, and at first it was like any other day.
At about noon, Noah's boss, and a young rough looking man came into sight,
Noah was told he had to train the young man, No longer like any other day, but not unusual.
At four O-clock, it was time to feed some of the animals, Noah showed the new worker what to do for the different animals.
When It came time for the Lizards, things took a slight turn for the odd. The new guy loved putting the bugs in the cages for the lizards and snakes, He loved it a lot, with an almost disturbing sort of enjoyment, he continued to feed the reptiles, before turning to Noah and saying, "is there anything bigger to feed them?"
Well It did so happen that the larger snakes ate mice, and this information was told to the new employee, with an excited grin he continued until it was time for the large serpents to be fed.
Noah brought out a large glass box, in it were 14 beautiful, silky, white as milk, mice, with eyes the size and color of ladybugs.
The new worker sprang over to the crate and snatched up (rather violently) one of the mice.
He hurled it into the snakes pit, the snake, (which was a python) didn't move.
The trainee, (To the astonishment and disgust of Noah, But he was too shocked and even a bit too intrigued to do anything.) reached in his hand, and yanked the snakes tail, endangering himself just to see a mouse be killed. what happened next was exactly what you would expect, the snake devoured the mouse and the new employee smirked.
Noah was so shocked by this display he quit at the end of that night, and never came back out of fear for seeing the young man again.
I think none of us have ever been witness to such a bizarre display,
sadly this is not an unusual display.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 8:52 PM UTC
dreamt of fame since being small --
actress, artist, vet.
fashion designer, writer, zookeeper.
and poetry.
why poetry?
lacking topic,
lacking talent,
lacking a poesy heart.
i
am
broken
the only way to convey dejection
is spilling my words onto parchment
emotional purging for mental empowerment
surprisingly makes me feel better.
I Finally Feel That I Have A Melancholy Heart.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
Postman
and poet?
love letters in mail
Accountant
and poet?
precision, detail
Archeologist
and poet?
sifting for feelings
Electrician
and poet?
a jolt
leaving one reeling
architect
and poet?
drafting with words
Zookeeper
and poet?
singing of birds
Bus driver
and poet?
observing life's roadways
Minister
and poet?
perhaps how he prays
Lawyer
and poet?
though about win or lose
her poetry just might amuse
whoever you are
whatever you choose
listen, observe
welcome your Muse!
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 12:43 PM UTC
The News Today
Louvre in Paris has closed its door the staffs stand
on the steps and sing the national anthem they have
no lifeboats and can't stop Louvre being filled with
the art of debris, cleaning up will be a headache
what is art and what is *******
Meanwhile, 80 million rats have sought higher ground
occupying rich people’s homes sleeping and eating silk
sheets and Foie gras get drunk and aggressive on rare
wine and defecating on Persian carpets
Also in the news, a boy in Japan has been dancing with
bears and eating their blueberry jam.
The boy says he will be a zookeeper when he grows up
to put his parents in a cage. The rest of the news is boring
the routine stuff about useless wars on sand dunes
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 8:13 AM UTC
some birds recently died of a smog overdose
this is not a big deal but activists are raging
last night they destroyed the lion's cage in the zoo
the lions ate all of them but they died with a certainty:
"we stood against the psychological torture of animals"
when the activists took their last breath, fulfilled
as their arms and legs were bitten off, they sobbed,
deeply concerned if the lions could digest human flesh
unselfish souls, good-hearted people; their families miss them
now they are waiting in front of netherworld's entrance
memories are rolling over their retinals, they are scared
fear is flickering, the activists are looking at gigantic doors
did they really do the right thing? dying as early?
when things have become unchangeable, doubt is arising
doubting is one of the cruelest acts of thinking and feeling
doubting leads to an idealization of the self; mirror-addiction
to kiss a shark is dangerous but some doubts will **** you
we may think that we control them – they dominate us
the mobiles of the activists are switched off
relatives and partners are trying to reach them
zoo visitors hear a ringtone coming from the lions
later on, the zookeeper finds an iphone in their feces
but the activists are fine, they died for a purpose
their funerals will be events of glorification
nobody will speak badly about them; nobody will criticize anything
they left babies, toddlers, wives, husbands and relatives behind
but they died for a purpose; they really did and that's what counts
it's over: stars are vomiting, the cemetery god is reading epitaphs
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 10:40 PM UTC
_A little boy once told his mom
"I will never visit a gay bar."
Later in the future he became a two-headed turtle
Attack helicopter was too mainstream
Even though he had a dream to fly into space
He's now a zookeeper and animals love him._
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 4:00 AM UTC
What name can I give you?
Surely there are none
and it is pointless to try,
like giving names to
celestial bodies,
or quantum particles.
I thought I could capture it,
that the gaps would be filled in,
like space between
crocodile teeth
clasped on a zookeeper's hand.
I thought
If I could paint like Wyeth,
I'd have my Helga.
What name do I give you?
Maybe Odessa,
laughing on the crest of a wave,
dragged by purple currents,
among gulls on Earth,
and storms in the sea?
Perhaps Athena,
with gleaming eyes
and an owl in your hand?
Or Queen Maeve,
raw with beauty,
buried upright
facing your enemies?
Infeasible,
but it must be something,
for the shake of necessity,
So as to call out when
loitering on lake's edge,
or from across a room
when I see you there,
uncanny as my reflection
in a convex mirror.
I'll call it out.
It's not that I want to,
but that I do;
Just as frogs jump,
just as the tongue
pushes on the aching tooth,
I see Venice in
cheekbone crevices,
smell Vienna in a tangle of hair.
This tropism is
an elephant stomping
the marrow out of me,
and it's alright,
it feels good,
and Wisdom is her name.
Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 3:03 PM UTC
Welcome to the zoo-
and who are you?
And is it true that you are free?
All the animals you see
are often coming up to me
and asking: “Which way to the door?”,
but I don’t answer anymore,
for I have lost my way as well.
I wonder then if you can tell-
is this the zoo, or is this Hell?
Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 5:19 PM UTC