featured in the poetry forum September 10, 2019  :: 0 comments

Toast crumbs fall to the floor
looking like ants, or aunts.
It is only Wednesday.

When you come
I will no longer be here, or bee here.
Buzzing in my ears does not alarm me.
Now it is Thursday.

I am not what you wanted,
and it pains my soul, or sole.
I kick off my shoe and it kicks back.
Friday is here.

My back will be sore, or soar.
Flying is the only answer.
Saturday has come, and it is not yet too late.

Mother does not agree; it is always that way.
She says look at the big picture, or pitcher.
I am thirsty. It is Sunday.

Over time I have become more like myself.
I reach out to grab my son, or sun.
It burns me that it is Monday.

Green seems like an answer I can live with.
If only you knew, or new.
I am getting old.
It is already Tuesday.

editors note:

With words to say for every day, no week is weak. (We welcome Spencer to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum April 25, 2019  :: 0 comments

in the beginning
to look a lot like
crystal meth amphibians
live in water park
on the street gangs
of New York
yanks my chained
melody and harmony
in politics suck blood
oranges and lemon
meringue pied piper
of ham and eggs
over easy does it
matter at this point
blank paper machete
cuts jungle love
is the answer
me I’m waiting

editors note:

When genes-is as genes-does too matter. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum March 4, 2018  :: 0 comments

get out of your
mind games people
play hard or soft
boiled in oily
bird gets the warm
engine ear nose and
throw the bawl
your eyes outside
chance of rain
man of la munch
kin you hear me
now I layman’s
terms and conditions
have worsened overtime
game winner every
thyme in a bottle
of beer on the
wall of fame
and four chin
music and dancing
contest your knowledge
and whiz dumb
as a posterized him
on that dunk

editors note:

A game on, pachinko poetry slam… – mh clay