The Rip Post                                                                                              


XMAS POEM: TOO MUCHMAS

Elmore's
blues
haiku.

Concatenations
derived from
the grave.

Jesus' birthday,
have you been
saved? Check
out our interest-
plus accounts
before you
check out!

Oh we are so
insane, 6,264,358,428
ticks on the pop clock.

What's it all for, pop?
Is it still all right, ma?
I'm only breathing,
hot-cha-cha!

Time to get serious
it's not so mysterious
wings not broken
so why don't you fly,
little birdbrain guy?

Amazing Abe will
sell you stories
of his shame,
trading his grief
for a few dollars
and seconds of fame.

Renegade Reilly
vents his soul in style, he
has no direction home.
Throw ol' Rover
another shin bone.

Philandering Phil
gives the ladies a thrill
knowing all the while
he's a penny-ante shill.

Marvelous Maude
with her bodacious bod
dances snakes dance
in Central Park,
ghoulish dervish
heart with no spark.

Militant Millicent
rants at the gates
of WTO and TIA,
madre mia, let's hope
she never gets her way.

Grumpy Gus, he
always makes a fuss,
beam in his eye and
gore in his teeth
nothing more than
an inglorious thief.

Shades of perdition
knocking at the door
ignorant wraiths
clutching valises
filled with grim tracts
about bloody ol' Jesus,
fangs and grim drool
they call upon you
to shed your old skin
best not invite them in.

It's Christmas time
in the city, hop to it
with this blathering ditty,
you know you'd love
a good laugh, but the
time for fun is over.

---Jack Oakes

BACK TO POETS CORNERED


2002 Rip Rense. All rights reserved.