my thoughts are filled
with meaty ideas
dripping with sauce
much like spare ribs
and smoky sweet too
filling the air
with wafting illusions
of bar-b-qued hare
but really I’d settle
for just some hot links
to satisfy my appetite
for mental hi-jinks
Author: Jared Abraham
Fall
poetryRed and yellow, orange and green
the leaves blend together in the harmony
of coming death and future life
warning of the impending frost
hinting at the fore-told thaw
Sometimes someone else has to rip off the band-aid because addiction is a bitch
poetryThe new beginning of tomorrow
will also be an ending
in which I’ll no longer have a reason
towatchcnninthemorning
whilstmunchingoncereal
tolistentonpronthedrive
whilstavoidingawreck
towatchnbcnightlynews
whilsteatingmysupper
and while I’ll miss the chatter,
filling my life with incessant white noise,
I might welcome the peace
and the opportunity to wallow
in civil apathy once more.
Halloween
poetryPerhaps i’ll watch a scary movie
and maybe hand out some candy;
I could always drink a brew
and even read a chapter of harry or two.
How poetic!
poetry14.823 gallons
for $30.67.
I die
everytime I see her
offal cry
writing
poetryi feel a new urgency
seeing my possibly,
hopefully future,
seeing my way out
and my way in
my way to stay
and to stop
but first the stack
of papers await,
calling me who does
not get to write now
to judge those who do.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year
poetrythe cold of fall descended
in a northerly wind
with hard driving pricks
of rain that stung my face
when looked at too long,
but still i took the pain
in the joy of feeling
the promise of cold to come,
fighting the shivers
by trying not to notice
the enveloping cold
as it stole into my soul
Is it the osh
or the dissapointment
bubling and gurgling,
stirring within
threatening to come up?
And I hope the osh will
because perhaps in that
meaningless action
I can show my solidarity
in a meaningful way.
With my apologies for my long absences from the sieve
poetryI keep coming and going,
entering and exiting,
writing and avoiding,
wondering who’s to blame
besides my own priorities.
Fall is here
poetryin the wind,
in the air,
whipping,
swirling,
blowing leaves
in my eyes
in my hair
in my face,
bringing the cool
air of death
and the promise
of future life
Thoughts upon visiting the home of my brother-in-law’s supremely rich friend
poetrybeing rich would be nice
because then I could spend
all day everyday
watching my 7
ridiculously large plasmas,
drinking from my private bar
while talking to my
private bar-tender brian
and watching my 7
ridiculously large plasmas,
wandering through the jungle out back
drinking from my private bar
while talking to my
private bar-tender brian
and watching my 7
ridiculously large plasmas,
swimming in the pool
while wandering through the jungle out back
drinking from my private bar
while talking to my
private bar-tender brian
and watching my 7
ridiculously large plasmas,
sexing my wife
swimming in the pool
while wandering through the jungle out back
drinking from my private bar
while talking to my
private bar-tender brian
and watching my 7
ridiculously large plasmas,
and doing naught else
All chocked full of fajitas
poetryMmm
mmmmm
mmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmm
I hate disappointing people
poetryit’s bad when it’s my fault
but perhaps it’s worse when
it’s not because then I still
have to take the blame without
getting to enjoy any of the
fun of living only for myself
Predicament
poetryI really want to go
hunting today
but I don’t want to
call the uncle-in-
law to ask if I can
hunt on his land so
now what to do? what
to do? what to do?
what will I ever do?
In response to Mr. Mugs’ recent post concerning the morality of the honored and respected profession of teacherhood
poetryDear Roger Mugs,
The teaching profession
may indeed be evil
but be it hear known
that said profession
is currently paying
me more than i have
ever made before,
which is probably
more of an indictment
of my past jobs
than a qualification
of the profession.
if only for 7-8 hours a day
poetryall day long
i look forward
to the sweeping
encompassing
oblivion
in which
i cease
to exist
to think
to be
I got nothing
poetryno inspiration
except for poo,
poo, poo, poo, poo
glorious poopoo
smooshed and smeared
and oozing across the page
in the form of words
Another place and time
poetrywhite knuckles gripping the wheel
i drive hard through ike
wishing I was in another place
or in another time,
because either would do
to get me away from
the hurricane
The Clouds Today
poetryare drab, dreary, and beautiful
hiding the world from
the harsh sun,
bathing the land in
glorious shade
the sieve and the sand 
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