Sad Poems II

Here are three news poems from Sad Poems Volume II (working title):

All I want for Christmas

It’s been this way since eating candy in bed
when a glass of water was my floss.

What a loss, lustrous enamel.
Shield of dentin.
Aegis to shy oral nerves.

These teeth,
pitted like pumice,
brittle and rank.
A haven for the wayward organisms
seeking warm, wet peace.

I had a home once.
It was called bad oral care.
I can never leave this home,
even though I’m miles away.

The cracks keep growing
the blood blisters and flows
Like the flakes outside my window on this hallowed eve.

All I want for Christmas are whole new teeth.

Graduation Day

Hey Mr. Bigshot,
All doe-eyed and scroll holding,
Ready to save the world with expensive wisdom,
“book smarts” as the intellectuals say
It’s all ceremony.
Receiving or conferring of an academic degree or diploma does not a man make.
Exercises, commencements, convocations.
Bullshits, if you ask me.
Get ready to enter a real school,
LIFE!!!
In this school the tests have real consequences,
the dorms are a small apartment, and your car remains relatively unchanged.
You don’t get your food handed to you on a silver tray
You have to buy it with your own bloody fists
Throwing greenbacks to and fro akin to the chaotic ballet that is your commute.
Classes are now called jobs,
Girlfriends are now called Internet,
Drugs are now called beer,
Taught, nubile skin is now called leather.
This is the first step to your death march,
so buck-up!
and congratulations.

Iraq

Planes Hijacked.

Let’s attack Iraq.

Backtrack:
Saddam was slipped US greenbacks.
Because Iran was whack.
The war was stacked.
But Saddam got claque.
And he began to rule like a quack on crack.
His bigger plans couldn’t be pulled-back.
To the UN he had no tact.
(Not that America was laid-back.)

Let’s attack Iraq.

Jam-packed planes scream off the tarmac.
Cities are ransacked.
Civilian eyes gouged with flack.
Explosive knapsacks.
Kids that lack snacks.
Sunnis and Shi’ites yacking wisecracks.
Poison sumac.
Inflated bidding on Jackson Pollacks.
Dueling populations that feel bushwacked.

Let’s attack Iraq.

But don’t mind the setbacks
Democracy is on track.

So let’s kickback,
pat our backs,
and relax.