Stress Poem

Well
just look at that
I wrote an entire poem
about the stress and how it is terrible
and this apparently froze my word processor
to the extent that I had to reboot
in the process of which
the stress poem was lost
causing even more stress
and the beginnings of a headache
and FOR CRYING OUT LOUD WHY IS IT SO DRY IN THIS APARTMENT
IT’S SO DRY THAT THE INSIDES OF MY NOSE ARE BLEEDING
IT’S SO DRY THAT MY LIPS ARE A PAINFUL NETWORK OF CRACKS AND FISSURES
IT’S SO DRY THAT I CAN FEEL THE MOISTURE BEING SUCKED OUT OF MY EYEBALLS
OH LOOK
IT’S ANOTHER STRESS POEM

Earworm

Porcupine of terror
why do you burrow into
the folds of my brain
and nest there
all day
every day
until I am ready
to stomp on your evil little head
with steel-toed boots?

No song deserves this
no brain deserves this
no brain deserves this song
out
damn song
out
I say

You are punching me in the cerebral cortex with music
and I cannot approve

Bass Clef

O bass clef of doom
how you torture me

Why
nefarious bass clef
do I find it so hard to read you
while the treble clef seems natural
like birdsong
or waffles

I know basically what you mean
but still I struggle
and I stop in the middle of a piece
to anxiously count your lines
and ensure that that really is a G

I can play by ear like crazy
O bass clef of terror
but whenever I sight read
you are lurking there
smiling your cruel smile

Curses on the head
of the evil fiend
who decided the bass and treble clefs
had to be all different for some reason

bass clef
you bastard

The Starcats Are Mine Now

I have stolen her starcats
oh yes
stolen them and made them mine
and I shall ride them
benevolently
all over this poem

She thinks she can go and
invent starcats and claim
they love her
only her
but the starcats are mine now
because I really like the word “starcats”
and I am an evil jealous possessive
terrible poet

She can’t have them back
no
she doesn’t deserve them
her hair is not blue enough
and doesn’t stand for anything
and she probably wants to eat the starcats
and I would never do that
or almost never
and that is all that counts

I didn’t really steal the starcats
because they were mine all along
and you can’t prove they weren’t
you nasty suspicious person
with your bulging eyes
and lack of starcats
in your heart

This awful poem is dedicated to Sandra Kasturi, who does actually continue to be the Mistress of All Starcats.

Fridge Poppet

I opened my fridge yesterday
and found a poppet in there
OH MY GOD A POPPET
winking and blinking with
its chilly poppet eyes

It’s difficult to explain
what a poppet
A POPPET
was doing in my fridge
wicked poppet
full of vinegar

People ask me what a poppet is
and I tell them
to stop complaining about my use of
really cool old pretentious words
for I am writing a fantasy novel
about a fair maiden named Qatani
and she has poppets in her fridge too

I don’t know if my poppet
is evil
or just hungry
but probably the former
as my fridge contains mostly expired milk
though maybe poppets like expired milk
because of the lumpy bits

POPPET

duck

no one realises
the duck is to blame for everything
the gorgeous duck with burning red eyes
that haunts the apex of my soul

look at its little webbed feet
its evil little webbed feet
imbued with wickedness
and tangled in the weeds of forgiveness
why little duck of horror
why did you leave me

unpunctuated
the duck destroys everything
creates everything
smokes trendy cigarettes with everyone
possesses this poem and
turns it
into word salad

we must stop the duck
by cooking it
and feeding it to nuns
who may not want to eat it
because of the cholesterol