Bow Wow! Bow-Wow Baby!

Bow Wow! Bow-Wow Baby!

A Beat Poem


Jon Presco

Copyright 2016


I have taken note of this before.

The ghost of Ken Kesey is hanging around in the astral plane

being a real Prankster with reality.

Today, I found myself in a drama, so, bizarre, so strange

it surpasses anything Rod Serling wrote – and Steven King!

I can not give all the details

because we are in a form of arbitration

call it purgatory

However, let me give you just a taste.

How about a good idea for a book?

Yes, that’s the ticket!

It’s safe to pretend this is fiction

even, a science fiction – story?

This is the face I put on as I listen to my neighbors…….tales

This is the face that rejects….my poetry!

Rod Serling and Nurse Ratched

The Cohorts of my Psychic Soul

My young  promise that the mystery

gets even deeper from here

and alas I will have my pot of glory

Rod is the guru of my early teen curiosity

He offered me a way out from

the Catholic embargo on my erections

and nocturnal emotions.

Come, Little Jonny

into the Twilight Zone

bow6 bow7

Ratched is Death-Angel

come to put all my promises

to rest.

She is the one of a kind Succubus

in cranky Saint Paul’s

bombastic and bloody horror show

She is all unkind things – to all men

She hurries your hope off the cliff

then stomps your lemmings

half to death

Mercy is the word

she let live

until it is your turn

to stare into the abyss


For your edification

A lonely senior citizen,

who doesn’t want to believe he is ready

to socialize at the local senior citizen center

but is invited to a course on writing your memoirs held at 

The Last Bag of Tricks Bistro

Time to get it all down

Waiter, another cup of Joe


Having had friends and family die, he is lonely.

His only child hates his stories

and thinks he is a phony

She is only interested in getting  five hundred dollars

for fancy hairdos

and another brand new pony

She has milked him for all he is worth

taken him for all his – money

Their time together is down to twenty-six minutes – a month!

and counting

So, he pays his five bucks

and authors some childhood memoirs

that he soon shares with about twelve

of his neighbors

who wonder if he is still – horny


Right off the old bat

he notices the woman running the group is a tedious control freak.

He marvels at her skill in making her group

do her bidding.

He is reminded of his childhood friend

who makes six figures as a Dog Trainer

for the Stars.

He watched her in action, how she could turn vicious dogs into jello

with the tilting of her head

or, make a dog pee

with a slight snarl at the corner of her mouth.


Being up for the challenge

because he has seen her type before

he goes along with the Group Training Lessons.

For a little while he is the New Teacher’s Pet

but is soon replaced by Mr. Perfect Right-wing Jar-head Boy Scout 

who is giving her a good run.

Not once does he write and recite a memoir.

He is given preferential treatment

like the odd woman who always sits next to this woman.

 This sidekick never shares anything about her family and friends.

Instead, she recites the trial and tribulations

of fixing up her house so she can sell it.

It is a tedious Bill where the costs of things

are gone over and over again.

Bad workmanship, is laid on the group.

Then there is that old furnace she had to replace.

We get to hear how much that put her back,

and now

we get a bank statement.

I tell ya

this ain’t poetry

Finally, she is done unloading he financial woes on us

and, here it come – the in-depth feedback from group members

who know this is Teacher’s Pet No.1

and if you kiss her ass

you are given precious seconds

for your reading and feedback.

She’s like a piggy bank you got to feed, a parking meter.

The more quality feedback you give her

the more praise you get – like a dog biscuit!


Now, we come to Teacher’s Pet No.2,

who has brought his portable CD player from home

And into it he slips – this!

Look up the word INFLICT, and, CAPTIVE AUDIENCE

Is that…SACHMO?

“And I say to myself

what a wonderful world



O.K. That was pretty flagrant.

Ten people watching a man smile as he listens to his favorite song is

…….Twilight Zonish.  

Normal people would not come back

for the next meeting.

However, you are dealing with a real writer

who has got to beat her system.

Like a one-armed bandit

he can’t help but put another quarter in the slot

 and pull the handle.

He is now, obsessed. No justice, no peace!

He can’t sleep at night.

She has him right where she wants him.

Slowly, she is using her cohorts, to destroy him.

Bit by bit, he is hobbled.

It’s too late to just…….walk away!

He has to see it out……to the bitter end!

He used to joke to his friends

how men who go to the senior center

soon end up dead.

He never dreamed he would die for want of just a little feedback

just one little tidbit of dog food, just one…….

little pat on the head.

He begins to waste away.

Then, he heard it from the Horses’s Mouth

she is a Hospice Nurse.

 She was by their side

when many a good man, died.

Did they leave her all their dog biscuits

in order to get alas, their final reward……..


Yes! I see.

Here are the Pearly Gates.

Start reciting your Good Deeds

if she will let you!



About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to Bow Wow! Bow-Wow Baby!

  1. Reblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:

    Here is my prophetic poem ‘Bow-wow Baby’.

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