Sunday, January 31, 2010

Chester Arthur

Chester Arthur, son of the preacher.
Son, God is your teacher.
Slavery is wrong and must end.
We must fight its growing trend.

Chester Arthur, young Whig.
Who would have thought you'd be so big?
Fight the dissenters in a brawl,
But what difference does it make at the end of it all?

Chester Arthur, young lawyer.
Elizabeth Jennings had wrongs against her.
A black woman on the public trolley?
Fight for her rights, end this folly.

Chester Arthur, Brigadier General.
Organizing New York for the Army Federal.
The Union must fight the rebel uprising,
And your hard work and command is surprising.

Chester Arthur, Conkling machine cog.
You're on Roscoe's leash like a dog.
Work at the Port of New York as Collector.
Don't fight the system in your current life chapter.

Chester Arthur, Vice President.
Working against the White House resident.
Garfield was shot and killed though.
It seems Conkling owns the Executive, although...

Chester Arthur, US President.
Make Roscoe Conkling no more than a peasant.
The Pendleton Civil Service Act is passed,
And you kicked the spoils systems' ass!

Chester Arthur, who now?
Fade into obscurity, you may not bow.
No one knows you anymore.
You're stuck with Millard Fillmore.

Saturday, January 30, 2010


I'm waiting for the moment
Which I promised to you
But that moment isn't until tomorrow
And it seems so far away.
I would bring it early
But you were promised
Before it came.
That time passes so slowly for me
How does it feel to you?

Thursday, January 28, 2010


Life has its ups and downs.
Happy, sad, smiles, frowns.

We push onward through deepest pain.
But what's it matter? It's all the same.

The pain leaves for a minute.
But not if it returns, when it

Comes back you're up a creek,
Because the cure you again seek.

But the pain always wins.
Creeps in by your sins,

Or maybe by your friends,
Or by family's measley ends.

So why should we fight the pain
If we cannot break its chain?

It's difficult to go ahead and choose
Fighting pain, when you'll always lose.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010


They tell me I'm a nerd,
A worthless loser, a geek.
These hurtful titles I've heard
Are not the words I seek.

And so I decide to break
From the white smart teen
Stereotype. For my sake,
These things I will not seem.

So I get my grape drank,
Fried chicken, and watermelon too.
I won't give you a penny, to be frank.
Now I'm a black Jew.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Stronger Will

In a clash of two wills,
The stronger always wins.
But what happens when
Both wills are from within?

One side of me wants
To beg on my knees.
The other side says
To acknowledge your needs.

It hurts so bad
To sit back and wait.
But what else?
Could I tempt fate?

You'll come around
One day or another.
That thought makes
One will beat its brother.

Monday, January 25, 2010


How would you like it?
What if I hid something?
Is it time for me to quit?
Time for the right thing?

They say honesty is the best policy,
But is it the best policy with you?
My studies of the American polity
Aren't half as complex as what's true.

Sometimes I feel confident,
But you make me small.
I'm thankful for my confidant,
Else no one would know at all.

Maybe tomorrow you'll know
The truth beneath everything.
As time continues to go,
I hold onto this ring.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

I wish I were Ralph Waldo Emerson

If only I were famous
This poem would be good

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Haikus are the best

Haikus are the best
When you need a quick poem
It's just a minute

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Gatsby and Standin

Agents Gatsby and Standin were great friends together.
So great, in fact, they learned to change the weather.
Though that was mostly Gatsby, and his skills in science.
And it had the side effect of making Standin live in silence.

This was a horrible thing; Standin had a great voice.
So great in fact, the world would hear it and rejoice.
Gatsby had to get it back for his friend.
Let me make this clear, NOT his boyfriend.

He used his less science-ish knowledge of history
To try and find a solution to this great voice mystery.
His best solution was to revive Andrew Jackson,
A great president and a greater man of action.

It wasn't military expertise that would help Standin.
It was the sciency phlebotinum made by John Brandon.
The phlebotinum was in the depths below the Washington Monument,
Dedicated by Chester Arthur. But back to the present...

Jackson led a brigade, with Standin and Gatsby at his side.
Each of the three had a rocket-powered rocking horse to ride.
They took over the United States' capital city,
But assured Obama they weren't too sketchy.

Gatsby found the tools he needed,
So he took them and then pleaded
The president to pardon their crimes.
He promised in return some sick rhymes.

Obama nodded slowly, with the pistol to his head,
For if he hadn't agreed, his ass would be dead.
So Gatsby left dramatically, with science in his mind,
Contemplating briefly if for this he should be enshrined.

Meanwhile, Standin rekilled the seventh president.
Again he became a national underground resident.
Gatsby met with Standin and restored his voice.
Standin opened his mouth and the world did rejoice.

Standin's voice was unequaled on Earth.
Even better than an Australian's from Perth.
It had to be saved, for the greater good.
You'd have done it too, or at least you should.

Writing for Fame

I'm playing the game
Writing for fame
Emotion and theme
Are eating ice cream
Crying to themselves
For they know very well
They have no place
In my rich estate
I'm in it for money
I want the honeys
I'm playing the game
Writing for fame

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

I Feel Fantastic

I look around, before I go to bed.
I think thoughts flowing through my head.
My life is pretty good.
I feel just as I should.

I feel fantastic.
Everything comes together so perfectly
As though my life is all in great harmony.

No tragedies are drastic.
I have no reason to dwell in pain.
I haven't sunk like the USS Maine.

I just feel fantastic.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Where are you? I'm so lonely.

I was lonely for so long, laying here.
Then you came along after many a year.
My birthday each time, you did celebrate.
Flowers and cognac, your gift is great.

But I counted the days in anticipation.
And this year, you missed the celebration.
Have I lost you, my friend?
Am I again alone until the end?

Is turning 201 just too old for you?
That would be shallow, and cold too.
I'm Edgar Allan Poe, please don't leave me.
Then again, I've always been in agony.


You gave me a shoulder when I needed to cry
You gave me kind words when I wanted to die
You gave me a hug when I was so far down
You gave me a reason to turn the frown upside down

You were the force that kept me on my feet
You were perpetually perfectly sweet
You were always there in my time of need
You were never expecting it when I mutinied

I got better and moved along
I left you behind as I sang a new song
I was gone when the tables had turned
I didn't help when you yourself were burned

I didn't need you anymore
But walk into my door
I'll welcome you as before
I now realize, you're my amor

Monday, January 18, 2010

Haikus are dumb

Who can get a thought
Completely out in a mere
Seventeen sylla---

3 in the Morning

We've typed to each other halfway through the night.
Fighting off sleep any longer for you doesn't seem right.
But it's addicting, reading each word you spell.
Oh dear, some of what you put will make me go to hell.

The grandfather clock sounds its old bells.
One, two, three o'clock is the time it tells.
I see each letter, a character of one byte.
You and I, we can make it 'til the Sun's alight.

Your words ensnare me
As I slowly close my eyes
I lay my head down

But no, I musn't fall asleep, not right now.
I'll make it through the night, with you. Somehow.
I type my reply, a short, quick, "lmao."
I look at it send, but little did I know

You weren't being sarcastic, I was just slow.
You poured out your soul and I let it go.
I see my chances with you take their final bow.
They fade into the Internet, but I refuse to say ciao.

I send you a text
I send you an email, too
I must make contact

We had such chemistry going together, my dear.
I simply cannot let this minor nadir
Prevent a new zenith where we are together.
We could talk with each other, no matter the weather.

Between our fates, don't you too see the tether?
You and your computer make me feel light as a feather.
The rules of the universe to which we must adhere,
They say you need to come back to me, I'm quite sincere.

You will be back soon
Of this I'm so very sure
I will be online

Saturday, January 16, 2010


I'm sitting alone
Next to my phone.
I put it on vibrate
And I wait
For a text from you
Because I need to.
Time seems forever.
Give up? Never.
Just a minute.
You'll get it.
You'll reply,
I'll sigh
In relief.
But good grief!
It's been hours.
They become days.

I can't believe you haven't texted back.
It's been a week.
Maybe I'll try to again establish contact.
But I'm not a creep.

I must try.
Else, I'll cry.
Just a quick text.
What next?

I wait again.

Romania Man

Romania Man
You're a horrible hero
But I love you still

Friday, January 15, 2010


If I were to write a poem,
I would not hold myself to silly rules.
End rhyme, diction, rhythm,
Along with all the other linguistic tools

Would have no place in my writing.
Imagery as well, would have to go.
I'd cast it out like weeds,
To let the true thoughts and emotion grow.

In fact, I may forsake
The Great and Almighty Line.
Such a thing
Could never help to enshrine

My name, my ideas,
My works of art in history.
Instead my orthodoxy
Would have me become a mystery.

If I were to write a poem,
My verse and I would be free.
My innovation would make me the best.
Most surely.