Sometimes I have to
stop asking for poems.
Sometimes I have to
tell someone’s story
other than my own.
Sometimes I have to
say wait a minute
you have the privilege
of bringing someone else
back to life
breathing their breath
thinking their thoughts
speaking their truths
sometimes I have to.
©️Mark W. Ó Brien
27Apr2022
Simon Peterson went for a walk in the sun
across the barnyard of change.
That rooster was pretty cocky this morning.
Chicken dinner was looking good!
His buddy Heyzoos had kept him and his friends
up all night speaking in paradox and paraphrase.
Simon tried to hit the snooze button twice but
the third time that cock crowed he was cheesed.
Even with Heyzoos’ warning the night before
he hadn’t expected Leghorn to foghorn.
When he did Heyzoos pointed right at Simon
in front of all the guys. “I told you so!” He said.
Simon looked Leghorn in the beak accusingly but
that chicken just shrugged and denied it. Three times!
©️Mark W. Ó Brien
16Apr2022
Elvis is the driver on our bus.
He is good operatively.
He ferries us to and from Outpost Haros.
We wear headphones.
Listen to AC/DC at half speed on our Walkman’s.
Even our batteries are dying.
I use duct tape to hold the cassette in.
Elvis is impressed.
Offers me his lunch box but I say:
“No, I’ve already had my polk salad for today.”
Elvis gets all shook up. I tell him:
“You ain’t nuthin’ but a Cerberus whining all the time.”
He puts us out. Bill hails a cab and
Elvis drives away as the bus shakes, rattles, rolls.
©️Mark W. Ó Brien
15Apr2023
It’s springtime
and there is the sound
of a ballgame being called
on my front porch.
Cat on my lap. “Stee-rike!”
Dog at my feet. “Pop!”
“…that’s a single to right…”
“…the winning run is on base…”
“Crack!!”
“Five to Six to Three!”
“Doub-ble-play!”
“Raise The Jolly Roger!”
At the end of the day
all is right with my world.
©️Mark W. Ó Brien
14Apr2022
Democracy Jones has gone off to
warbling again.
I try not to let it affect my world.
Uncle Joe is my choice
to defend the free verbs because
I only eat organic cheese heads now.
We always make sure to drink
an eight ounce glass of
wasabi with our supplements
on an empty flummox.
I have decided never to use the word
mmm-demic ever again
from now on its baklava
and this baklava is endless!
©️Mark W. Ó Brien
13Apr2022
Gehenna is rocking
and I’m rolling over.
There is nowhere else to go
so I build up.
Falstaff, teeters on the brink
of warbling.
They accepted the poem
but reheated my bio he says.
This is not the second time for everything
because iconography is his first language.
An adjective gets stuck in your throat
you begin coughing up nouns.
Elvis stokes the crucible with words
It’s going to be a long night.
©️Mark W. Ó Brien
12Apr2022
All of the wee folk of my youth
grew up to become the Angels of my now.
They no longer scare me and
we speak lively when we’ve the chance.
Often, I listen to their council
and regret it sure when I don’t.
I kept them rather busy as a child
rescuing me from the fires of Gahanna.
Where as once we were mischievous and bold
now they are my councilors and we are old.
“Remember that time…” I hear one say.
“Yes, and that other time…”
“How did we ever survive?!” I cheek.
In dreams, in dreams, in dreams…. They reply.
©️Mark W. Ó Brien
08Apr2022
