McMansions

FRANWATSON

For years, the trees crept in on me.
Then Mcmansions bloomed
Heat consuming, barn sized things
With way too many rooms.

And each of them laid waste the land,
Consumed the creeks and trees
Till all the hills are cold and bare
And birds and bunnies freeze.

There is a justice, though, sometimes.
Seems now they are foreclosed,
They tumble daily back to dust
For mortgages still owed.

Urban Poet

We have them here.
They tucked a few along the slope
beside the highway.

So now the trucks spew fumes
into their yards, frustrating hope
as children play.

There is no reason to be of good cheer
when wealth brings bling to such a dope
to place his family as pollution's prey.

We drive the trees to their knees
and bushes blush to see the flowers fade
but that is mere hyperbole
compared to what they do to you and me.

Save the planet! Leave a space
for the hapless human race.

apathy & ignorance

from the 4 corners
of this spherical point
in an unbounded universe

we gaze across the empty plain
of human indifference
and wonder why

we don't care either

help yourself

people like to gripe
but you know it's all hype
if they weren't pleased
they'd be quick to leave

can you help me he whined
then my friend said no
but if you're inclined
we can tell you where to go

if you need a hand
it's at the end of your arm
you know you understand
work will do you no harm

i've met a few who had reason to cry
but they never contemplated lying down to die
they did what they could to make it through the day
working so hard they had no time to pray

an empty chill

freezing in a heatless house
the cold has killed off every mouse
but cold will never kill me too
buddhists know just what to do

write a haiku and declare
cold is really an illusion
absence of heat, not something there
shivering is only mental confusion

branches clattering
shivering in the cold night
but feeling nothing

turn the dial
electric heat
rise to warm
my frozen feet

but my frozen feet don't care
cold is really 'nothing there'

practice

urban poets
turning words
into sidewalks
into birds
into jobs
and into parks

into haiku
lacking sparks
of inspiration
without reason
telling stories
out of season

but the day will come when each
learns what poetry can teach

dayvee an tha kat

bryt sunshyn gleemz
off massav fangz
az peepal skreemz
wyt tygar dreemz
av eezing hungur pangz

in narro alleez
rodents run
hyd frum tha sun
tha tygar seez
tha hunt iz fun

az dayvee growz
hiz kat stayz smoll
but stil hi showz
tha fangz rat knoz
kan kill them oll

Dave:

It is I, the great and glorious
Vampire Gerbil! -- at least
that's my story!

On the other side,
undead rodents take pride
in leaving pain behind.

Who needs it?
My family, my friends, my dogs --
I can't be serious!

Stacie, where are we now?

Stacie:

Together ...

pun-ishment

the lowest form of humor
as anyone can see
is higher than anything you find
on anyone's tv

a play on words
is for the birds
as any twerp
can learn to chirp
but only those
who really know
can make a sound
that will astound
within the bounds
of paronomasia
that I’ve found

a common pun
is merely fun
but nonetheless
I bless
the rare one
that's well done

staring at the monitor

midnights come and mornings go
the nights are passing slowly
why i'm awake i do not know
to sleep well would be holy

damned to sit before the words
the world wide web provides
chirping like the heedless birds
beneath them all the cat still hides

off at three o'clock to walk
through empty streets and dark
only with myself to talk
not even dogs will bark.

coming home
it's damp and cool
not far to roam
where demons rule

come read

In hoc loco vinces,
in this place, you conquer
boredommm and restlesssnesssss;

returning to write poems,
less for what we say than
for the chance to say it.

miserable creatures

luminiferous ether
glaring in my eyes
blinds me as I leave here
for my alien skies

nothing wrong with earthlife
that logic wouldn't cure
but mathematic certainty
they surely can't endure

without a dose of raw emotion
they'd still be fish beneath the ocean

begin again

Whatever has come over me,
to fail to add to poetry?
I've missed our public verbal show,
but why, I do not really know.

Perhaps I'm bored with tired lines,
and common subjects, simple rhymes;
I need a challenge to be free
of apathy.