Pole Axed
Santa’s in a mild depression.
Elves were cut back by recession.
Layoffs dampen his enjoyment.
Blitzen’s getting unemployment.
In the workshop hear the noise
made by all the homeless toys.
Ghost Shelf Life
Produce breathes life into labor.
Decayed cauliflower wins no hearts.
Take that price tag off my skin.
I live only in consumer memory.
Inventory cannot define me.
Customer satisfaction disgusts me.
I am a shadow, bought and sold,
an old bargain looking for a sucker.
My s.k.u. is like a prison tattoo,
defining me in swapmeet hell.
Do not be fooled by my torn package.
Bring me home: the kids will love me.
Eat me whole, or broken into parts.
Surely you’ve seen me on t.v.
I once was placed this close to Barbie.
That’s not dust on my aged package,
but a roadmap of fondled memories.
Don’t put me down now, lover.
Now that I’ve kissed your fingerprints
forever.
The Check is in the Male
The pawns are having fun today.
They’re sacrificed, as is their way.
The castles are aswarm with knights,
the bishops immune to their plights.
While kings and queens,
snug in their beds,
dream Christmas thoughts:
"Off with their heads!"
Final Fix
A poet dreams upon a ledge,
while painters pace abysses’ edge.
As bulldozers level mountains,
architects build indoor fountains.
Nothing in this life is certain.
Every answer has its curtain.
Words are said and weapons raised
as the gods are being praised.
It’s been said that all professions
come with their own crazed obsessions.
Baby, you must make your choices
once you understand the voices.
Behind madness logic simmers:
too much light, you hit the dimmers.
All that gold, it surely glitters,
‘nough to give a man the jitters.
Sea to sea see former monkeys
writhing now like power junkies.
That spark evolved from two sticks
has us in our final fix.
The Positive Power of Numbers
Numbers help me free my mind,
cast my troubles all behind.
When I worry about war,
I think sixes, nothing more.
And when pain of hunger scores,
think of eights, in fields of fours.
When pure hatred gets to me,
I must simply conjure three.
When I need to ease the blues,
no sweat, I envision twos.
Feel the need to combat crime?
Here’s the mantra: just say nine.
For specific knives and guns.
it’s real simple: fives and ones.
Seven lives in number heaven.
One last super hero: zero!
Decaying Enigma
Meet mate at seven.
Wash shoes in hyperbole.
Employ the suffering viol.
Shimmer with preordination.
Shelve the crankcase.
Eat more minerals, pronto.
Collapse periodically.
Invent, destroy, implicate.
Condone hysterical bleating.
Disgorge bulbous neckware.
Contemplate, intimidate, validate.
Express pernicious sympathy.
Caulk pejorative arrows.
Combine, fluff, deliver.
Attenuate cosmopolitan philosophy.
Cradle the blaspheming affirmative.
Shrinkwrap yellowed conjecture.
Divide, accelerate, inject.
