Oracle of Humanity

Inspired by this picture:

The Oracle of Humanity

The two most splendid things
On earth
On God’s Green Earth
Are listed thus:
The aquiline face of Fabio
The rigid abs of Fabio

Can humankind
And its frailty
Possibly survive
The blistering power of that heavenly combination?
Would we be Semele
Crumbling to hot ash
In the presence of that lightning bolt?

Perhaps the son of us
Who emerges from the rubble
Would be our civilization’s Haephaestus:
A product of the love of a musclely god
And a people,
Ready to forge fantastic weapons
Ready to marry the most beautiful goddess

But inevitably
And eternally
Completely lame.

Perhaps my fans would like a “backstage pass” to my creative process. Haikus are a good way to get the fast poetry creative juices flowing, aspiring baby poets. After seeing that photo, I knew the muse would strike, so to get her attention, I started typing. Think of it as my own version of doodling.

Fabio, your abs
They could really be improved
By your face in them

And before that one, as I was casting around for inspiration, came this:

what if this damn day
literally doesn’t end
and we are stuck. shit!

Ever yours,
Claudia

Let’s put things in perspective

by request – “Going back to work after the holidays”

The holidays, they effing rule
We soon forget dumb work (or school);
We party hard, relax and then
At some point as we near the end
Those thoughts creep back, we brush away,
But they resurface New Year’s Day.
“It’s time,” they whisper, “Time to get
“Your khakis pressed, alarm clock set,
“Your meetings scheduled, files prepared,”
But listen, workers, don’t be scared.
I know that work is such a bummer,
But look, six months until the summer!

A letter from Claudia

Dear impatient lovers of poetry,

Won’t you lend your patronage to the weblog of some dear friends who, in keeping with our shared appreciation for services rendered at a lightning pace, have taken it upon themselves to provide the world with timely and effective insults? They’re meant for self-defense, and they’re meant for you. At no charge. Please take a look at Oh Yeah, Well…

Accepting submissions as always,

Your Claudia

Fixed Poem: “Unmentionables”

(by request from a dad of a baby boy – fix the poem that accompanies the Beba Bean Pee-Pee Teepee, because it’s not only sexist, its meter is sadly offputting to customers.)

I’ve reprinted the original for your convenience:

Changing a baby girl is not all glitz and glory;
Changing a baby boy is another horror story!
You hold his feet with one hand and the diaper with the other
The whole time praying “Please don’t pee on your mother.”

Here’s the fix I’ve made for the fine folks at Beba Bean, who are welcome to use it as they see fit.

Changing a baby’s not all glitz and glory
And if it’s a boy it’s one big horror story!
While holding his feet up you murmur this plea,
“Please little baby, please don’t pee on me.”

And here is the poem I wrote about the experience with my remaining 9 minutes:

I click on a link.
It’s a wang teepee, ick.
I gotta tell ya
Babies are sick.

Fall Festival

(by request: “Fall Festival.” I don’t really feel this grumpy, but I do have dishes to wash. And I do love Christmas.)

Pumpkins and spices and butternut squash
Leave me with millions of dishes to wash.
The smells of the pies and the hot cider marry,
But big bags of apples are wicked to carry.
Baseball is cool but my team keeps on losing,
I like all my friends but I’m tired of boozing,
The weather is good but I’m sure it won’t last,
So hurry here, Christmas, hurry here fast.

Inconsiderate Blogging Poets

(reader submission – a friend of Claudia’s puts his foot down…and solves his own problem, I might add)

When people don’t update their blogs
The rest of us slumber like dogs
But you are a jerk
If you nap at work
So update! or I will saw logs.

Poems within Poems within Poems

(by request – a poem about Dune)

On Arrakis we eat the spice,
But drinking? We’ve got to think twice,
For water is rare.
So drinkers, take care,
A spoonful will have to suff-ha! I bet you
Thought I was going to end this
Like a limerick.
But I didn’t.
Plans within plans within plans.

RTD musings

(unintentional submission via an online article posted crazily by the Richmond Times-Dispatch. I’d link you but it has since been removed. If you read it twenty times, you reach a sense of inner peace that can only be termed “sublime.” HARNEYF2, everyone.)

Virginia an edge in the world.
Rivers
XXXXXXX XXXXXXXX
HARNEYF2

Say What You See

(guest poet – Bart Fitzhugh)

so we went camping

on the mountain top

was scrawled:

“bonersaurus”

Whispered Low

(by request: What is Shahadaroba)

OK, I can make sense of this.
“The Nile,”
“Silent land,”
“Ancient sand,”
Egypt, right?

OK, we’re in Egypt.
We’re in Egypt and we’re whispering,
Because a dream is dead
And we’re upset about it.
So far so good.

OK, we’re whispering Egyptians
Who are pissed about their dead dreams.
We’ve made up this word
To say to each other quietly
That means “the future is much better than the past.”

OK, looking forward, looking forward.
“Facing the future,”
Got it.
Hakuna matata.
We’re all standing around whispering to each other,
“Shahadaroba,”
Partly to encourage,
And partly because it sounds cool.
The pyramids are behind us,
The camels are waiting to be fed,
Nefertiti is really beautiful,
Our age is becoming pretty golden,
But the future will be a lot better?
Better than our golden age?
When we’re all dead?

OK, “Shahadaroba” is kind of a dick thing to say to us,
Actually.