Bow Wow! Bow-Wow Baby!
A Beat Poem
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
Ratched is Death-Angel
come to put all my promises
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!
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,
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
“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
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!