Yesterday I drank a beer it was marvelous!
Poisonous it tasted…what is that twinge?
Hey look a donkey said the bubble,
what the crap it’s Barney Rubble.
There is a needle in my eye,
oh my God do I feel high.
This poison beer has made me rhyme,
excuse me sir dost thou have lime?
by Garrison Locke
Hope is polished
layers of desire
embedded
in the substrate of our minds.
Exposed when needed –
in times of great vexation –
to move us forward.
by Garrison Locke
Missile silo big and tall
I wonder where your payload falls?
Quaaludes, preludes, balls of wax
destroyed.
Alert the fishes,
Kingdom comes!
Talking to a stoplight –
asking why it’s yellow –
and only getting red…
No!
An hour passes waving slowly,
heads turn up to watch the fire
raze the sky.
The toll is taken –
one dollar per person to cross.
The pedantic reapers come and go,
inspecting the aftermath for souls.
by Garrison Locke
Perfect puzzles pontificate
presidium paperweights
passionately placating
porno pirates prefer
penultimate platitudes
precisely predicting
preferable processes
prayer power pauses
preparation primarily
productizes prototypes
produce paranoid
prints permanently
perplexing Prada
purses propose
prolific polyglots
prepare porpoise
pals plagiarize Parisian
prosciutto penguin poppers.
by Garrison Locke
When we were young we were taught to share.
But somewhere along the way we learned
we shouldn’t use others’ work;
they said it was called cheating.
What changed?
Building upon information,
learning from each other,
contributing back…
Defines our humanity.
by Garrison Locke
Snow falls
and I know it’s you
looking down upon us.
Helping to heal
but never forget.
Soft white flakes –
pure remembrance.
by Garrison Locke
Was Jack Kerouac right?
Are we on the road?
The road to what –
burning
loving
sensing
feeling
dreaming
New York
California
yearning
driving
playing
seeing
believing
We will arrive –
by Garrison Locke
The future’s present is the past;
The one that brought us to our deaths.
And when the day to see has come,
Our cover will as such be blown.
We cannot hide our transgressive acts
From those whose prudence we thought farfetched.
It’s clear now that we were wrong,
We should have listened when they sang their song
Of wonder, warning, winter, and woe.
It was then we should have changed our road.
Now our planet’s days are through,
And they’ll come back to start anew.
by Garrison Locke
frigid winter air
brings monochromatic days –
snowmen come to play
by Garrison Locke
A relentless 72 miles per hour,
Weather changes,
Doesn’t matter.
Send us a prayer.
Echoes recoil
compressing
hope,
help,
heart.
Aftermath of vision
consecrates
fluorescent sunrise
– unnatural nature –
cold,
stale,
hollow,
insincere.
