Author: Roger Mugs

my boys

poetry

i’ve me two girls as cute as can be
melt my heart, abuse my soul, manipulate me.
(as only girls can do to their daddys)
but eight months or so and i’ll’ve me two boys
destined to be studs, a different kind of joy.

beer brats, movies with car chases, and eventually
someone to teach to smoke a pipe, drink beer,
love scotch.

and this whole new part of me is revving up in
absurd excitement.

four’s a real family, and i’m a real dad.
a reality strange to me
and any friend i’ve ever had.

scooter

poetry

i wrote me a headline
(something to flatter you in a “i bet you think this poem is about you” kind of way)
and found it constricting
(in a “this underwear is a little much for my ‘wee ones'” kind of way)
to the point of destroying
my creativity
(in a “i should use the word ‘like’ a little more” kind of way)
and so i dropped it
wrote this for you instead
and then gave it the same title anyhow.
sorry.

stoked?

poetry

any given flight around the world
begins and ends with misery/anticipation
as you say goodbyes (even if temporarily)
and uproot yourself 13 time zones.

the food/comfort gets you there
the friends/work gets you back
diarrhea is my only loyal companion

all bark and no bite

poetry

alas, i talk big but know when the time comes
i’ll be incapable of putting that foot confidently
forward into His presence because i know where
that foot has been.
what these eyes have seen.
what these hands have done.
the wrath due is deserved.
and when gone paid by another,
what claim have i to stand?

another ode a la sieve

poetry

when will the world awake from its slumber
and find these cannonball-butts are writing
the most amazing combination of words and
fecal-expressions they’ve ever seen?

it most certainly will be recognized by the
world before the “publishers” catch on.

but since it is still “pre- noticed-by-publishers”
i must assume the time is at hand.
at crusty clasped hand.
(soon to arrive).

we are (after all) brillianceINCARNATE

friggin hate taking tests

poetry

nail biting
cheaterscheaterseverywhere
and it’s obvious the proctors don’t care
the room heats up till
sweatbreaksoutonmyforeheaddrippingdownmypencil
on to my perfectly formed answer circles
(squares)
they call the test
books close. pencils down.
at least they’re supposed to.
cheaterscheaterseverywhere

rewrites the well known

poetry

we feign self sacrifice
laying down our humility
in pursuit of pride,
a great name,
power.

the fire comes and burns away the chaff revealing our work, our building materials, our poor skills at plumbing.
judgment comes.

and you used PVC where you should have used metal piping. and there’s crap everywhere.

power, pride, wisdom, when and where i say.
and bad plumbing