Category: humor

Pepper’d Memories

 

Yes — I was the walrus
so too the fool on the hill
I was the nowhere man
sometime I feel nowhere still

but when the Fab4 took the stage
and raised their voice in song
they roused my golden slumber
my spirit sang along

I strolled to strawberry fields
along sweet penny lane
and when miss Rigby died
I felt McKenzie’s pain

stowed in the submarine
and sailed beneath the waves
down with the octopus
among the coral caves

and when the sergeant
struck up his lonely hearts club band
I fell in step by step
to march off to Pepperland

but before I’d hit the road
I ended up wounded in my bed
a delinquent name of Maxwell
took a hammer to my head

he’d come through the bathroom window
I forgot to shut it tight
I should have known better
but it’d been a hard day’s night

my friends had called for help
doctor Robert came in time
I’d said doc don’t let down
he did not — and I feel fine

cops searched helter skelter
looked here there and everywhere
but they found clues for no one
I said let it be I didn’t care

leaving home, you won’t see me
I said heading out the door
when I saw her standing there
my lover from the night before

oh darling let’s go day trippin’
I want to hold your hand
down this long and winding road
it won’t be long to Pepperland

now we’ve come together here
me and my sweet belle Michelle
she’s been writing paperback novels
the kind the drugstores sell

we have no plans to get back
we’re swept up in the allure
of Lucy and her diamond skies
on our magical mystery tour

even with George and Johnny dead
that old magic’s not yet slipped away
because old Paully‘s discovered AI
so a brand new tune is on the way

it will be so very cool
to hear them once again
to remember those wondrous days
get to relive them now and then

*
rob kistner © 4/5/11
expanded version: rob kistner © 6/13/23

Poetry at: dVerse

 


https://youtu.be/oz3JlMhgfq0

Orbisculated


 

E ating grapefruit is quite dangerous
‘cause the juicy things fight back
if you stab it best be careful
better give it your best try
‘cause carelessness will likely get you
a stinging squirt in your left eye
or depending on how your squinting
it just might be the right tonight

see ‘ya gotta keep least one eye open
cause that grapefruit spork is hard to steer
and whether left eye or the right
that nasty squirt will bring a tear
and if when you eat a grapefruit half
you sprinkle salt upon it first
know a salty juicy eye-squirt
absolutely is the worst

so if you plan on eatin’ grapefruit
perhaos some grapefruit eatin’ classes
or better yet — don’t spend big money
just get yourself some cheap sunglasses

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Yeah Sure



So, wadayathinka’ma piercing eyes?
………… sure

wadayathinka’ma brooding stare?
………… right

wadayathinka’ma chiseled nose?
………… uh-huh

wadayathinka’ma rugged complexion?
………… yep

wadayathinka’ma manly beard?
………… hmm

wadayathinka’ma pensive furrowed brow?
………… well, gotta go

hey, wait! — wadayathink, wadayathink, huh… wadayathink?!

rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: Sunday Muse

Wonder

 

Wonder

•

to grow up
is to chase off
our innocence
our naïve belief
in the world as a beautiful place
to harden against the magic
of our childhood dreams

but if by chance
we can cling to just one
perhaps we can hold on
to our precious sense of wonder

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• photo: “Alice in Wonderland” by Yuki Valentine

Ship of Dreams

…I have always loved the fantasy art of Dean Morrissey and James C. Christensen, and this week’s prompt at Writer’s Island put me in mind of their highly imaginative and captivating work, which in turn inspired the poem below, with its “tongue-in-cheek” ending…

 

Ship of Dreams

•

fantastic is this spell I’m under
magic of a splendorous kind
a world of cornucopic wonder
treasure troves of dreams to plunder
in this kingdom of my mind

here I live a life enchanted
here no fear of any threat
sorrow is by joy supplanted
no limit to desires granted
what I want is what I get

fantasy’s elaboration
a god of pleasure I ascend
soar in sweet hallucination
in ships of my imagination
oh, would this dream but never end

Epilogue

well now, oh dear, that was a bit much
somewhat carried away it seems
euphoria finds me out of touch
with reality, good sense, and such
perhaps I’ll temper my daydreams

throttle back my vision quest
bring fascinations down to size
moderation will serve me best
but dreams are so hard to repress
no limits when you fantasize

• • •

rob kistner © 3/26/11

• written for Writer’s Island

• art piece at top by Dean Morrissey

________________________

…below is a sample of the fantasy art of James C. Christensen…

Inseparable

Inseparable

•

if far not near
if there not here
one is not
without the other

so is up to down
and on to off
in to out
as hard to soft

it’s good or bad
happy sad
young or old
if hot not cold

it’s stop to go
either yes or no
as is likewise
fast to slow

dark and light
as in day and night
the quintessential
he and she

it is the one
defines the other
inseparable
as you and me

• • •

rob kistner © 2011


__________

…written for Writer’s Island

Baby Cakes

This poem is offered in response to prompt #22 at We Write Poems.

Baby Cakes

•

crave the taste
of my baby cakes
seven minutes
is all it takes

gotta whip ‘em up
nice and creamy
mouthwaterin’
moist and steamy

oh do not rush
you better not
gotta get that
little oven hot

spread ‘em thick
but not too quick
steady stirrin’
will do the trick

ease ’em in
slide ’em out
hot buttered lovin’
fresh from the oven

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Over The Edge

This piece is offered in response to visual prompt Mag 33 at Magpie Tales seen at bottom of post,
also prompt 22 at Writer’s Island,
and prompt #135 at One Single Impression.

Over The Edge

•

From down there, down there,
it’s coming from down there.
From where — down there?
Yes Sis, I swear!

That horrible smell
that’s filling the air,
the one that’s most certainly
impossible to bear,
is coming from that women
with the massive blue hair
sitting alone on the patio chair,
on the deck of the house,
that’s below us — right there!

What a putrid aroma,
you’d think that she’d care.
There are simply some things
that one never should share,
like the stink that is rising
from that patio chair,
on the deck of the house
that’s below us down there.

And the hideous color
of that mountain of hair —
I can’t help it, can’t help it,
I can’t help but stare.

It’s a tangled and horrible monument to
a disgusting and eye-blinding
shade of bright blue —
and it’s causing a feeling of nausea too!

I must look away my heads starting to whirl,
and I feel that my toes are beginning to curl,
I fear over the edge here I’m going to hurl —
and I don’t want to do that in front of a girl.

Maybe I’m wrong
but I would assume,
if one’s going to bathe
in a noxious perfume,
they’d at least have the manners
to exhibit some pride,
and not foul the ozone,
instead — stay inside.

Not to be the forecaster
of gloom and of doom,
but keep the eco-disaster
contained to one room.

And if you’re chromatically challenged my friend,
consider the others that you might offend.
A monumentally grotesque rat’s nest of blue,
is not something I care to look at on you!

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


Mag 33

Machine Mind

This post is offered in response to prompt #14 at We Write Poems,
the August 9th prompt at Big Tent Poetry,
the August 11th prompt at Three Word Wednesday,
and prompt #65 at Carry On Tuesday.




“…scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could,
they didn’t stop to think if they should…”
Dr. Ian Malcolm


Machine Mind

•

you wink awake at morning’s light
beckoning me to focused task
prompting me of promise

you collaborate
in my keeping touch
in work dispatched
in thoughts transcribed
in matters pure creative

you are my portal into virtual space
to probe mysteries
the vast unknown

the tool I wield
to unearth facts
dig the dirt
to search for truth

tightly spun
within the web
you tend my life
make all cogs turn

my instrument of whim
device of my distraction
are you my submissive
or master of my will

when you’ve surpassed my vision
will you serve me still

have I the power to shut you down
turn my back
walk away

to truly let you keep

in the deep subconscious
does your machine mind
really sleep

• • •

TechReGret

(a lighthearted tanka)

•

my laptop’s frozen

and my cell phone’s out of range

it’s at these times when

I think how life used to be

hand-written letters have soul

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

_________________________

• photorendered collage entitled: “Machine Mind” – by: rob kistner © 2010

IN CLOSING: We live a in a world immersed, if not drowning, in technology. The idealistic and naive early vision was to create technology to serve us, make life easier, less complicated – but the joke is on us. We now serve the technology, and life is more complicated — traveling at a pace we struggle to keep up with. We’ve leveraged our peace of mind in the misguided pursuit of leisure. Is there a remedy? If we do not open a global dialog focused at finding ‘balance’, the situation will, I believe, resolve itself – and the world will not like, and may not survive, the ultimate solution.

As James Martin, one of our great modern thinkers and author of the “The Meaning of the 21st Century” points out in his most optimistic and uplifting book, man stands on the threshold of either the greatest era in human history, or the end of life as we know it – the outcome rests in our hands.

I wrote an essay back in 2007 which deals with humankind’s strange relationship with the technology we’ve created. You can click here if you would like to read it. …rob

Elton The Elf

…I wrote this in response to the spirit of the July 26th prompt at Big Tent Poetry…


Elton The Elf

•

an angel-eyed velvet-clad curious elf
was sitting alone on a leaf by himself
quite lost and he didn’t see anyone else
he was scared and he hid and he tried to be stealth

“I wish I was home like a good little elf
‘cause I left my big glasses on my bedroom shelf
and this is no a place for a song-writing elf
these damp woods are not very good for my health”

his mother warned “Elton, you’re a wee little elf,
don’t go wandering off in the woods by yourself
take Bernie along, and your cell phone as well,
dear son please consider your fame and your wealth!”

but wee little Elton was a quite stubborn elf
tired of playing piano in his room by himself
bored with being a world famous rock ‘n roll elf
with gold records – Don’t Go Breaking My Heart was his 12th

you know it really is hard being a curious elf
curiosity is why he’d snuck off by himself
now he’s lost and can’t find his way home without help
sometimes its dangerous being sneaky and stealth

could this be the end for sweet Elton the elf

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Breakfast Lovers Fanatsy

…I wrote this in response to the July 5th prompt at Big Tent Poetry…


 

Breakfast Lovers Fantasy

•

whether panning for poached
fishing for fried
or sifting for softly scrambled

maybe bobbing for boiled
or sunny side up
angling for over easy

perhaps baiting a hook
for benedict
or dangling a lure for deviled

be they baked in cakes
or dropped in soup
it’s a whites & yolks wet dream

it’s a breakfast lovers fantasy
going to the eggs stream

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

• manipulated photo entitled: “PanFish” — created by: rob kistner

Always Options

…in response to the 10th prompt of 2010 on Writer’s Island, I offer a perspective on perspective…




Always Options

•

he came upon divergent ways
that stretched beyond the road he’d trod

he would go forth this was his mind
but had no notion which way that was

the pathway left was sparse with step
the roadway right was traveled plenty

leaning low to great extreme
he examined close the evidence

it came clear that those who journeyed left
were light of weight with timid step

while those who traveled onward right
wore finest boot of heavy heel

he thought on this for quite some time
until at last he knew for sure

he started neither left nor right
but instead went straight ahead

he hacked and carved and blazed a trail
into the new for those who’d follow

wise in life possessed of logic
he realized to where he’d come

the threshold of a new frontier
too raw for the sated too brute for the weak

those that would survive and prosper
would be among the enlightened bold

it would be those who’d choose this trail
full of promise made by his hand

with spirit full and muscled zest
he whacked and chopped and cleared the way

for those who’d come who were empowered
to seize possibility — a bright new world

• • •

(haiku)

•

trail forked this spring morne
white-tails chose the woods instead
always more options

• • •

rob kistner © 2010



• dedicated to the visionaries who see beyond •

Flash Dance

…response to prompt #21 from Magpie Tales…




Flash Dance

(version 1)

•

like a tiny universe
of noisy
newborn stars

exploding
with sizzle
and fire
in a plethora
of vivid color

a flash dance
of vibrant sparks
showering our dewy
midnight lawn

this cacophony
of celebration
and pyrotechnical
wonders

passes in
then out of existence
in but a moment
this magical night

_____________

(version 2)

•

a tiny universe
of noisy
newborn stars

explodes
with sizzle and fire
a spectacle bizarre

a flash dance
of dazzling sparks
shower the heavens
in wondrous light

this cacophony
of celebration
and pyrotechnical
delight

passes in
then out of existence
in but a thrilling moment
this magical night

_____________

(version 3)

•

a tiny universe
of newborn stars
explodes above us
bold and bright

they swoosh and sizzle
spin and tumble
in mesmerizing
fiery flight

a flash dance
of dazzling sparks
shower the heavens
in wondrous light

this cacophony
of celebration
this pyrotechnical
delight

passes in
then out of existence
in but a moment
this magical night

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

_____________

• photo of aerial fireworks by: Astro Spectacular

Why I Write

In response to prompt #87 at Poetic Asides




Why I Write

•

I write as proof that I exist
so as not to lose my mind

to prevent my sorrow
from choking the life
from my soul

to know what I really think
to ride the currents of my joy
and laughter

to track my growth
share what I have experienced
shed light on my ignorance
to leave my trace

expose my vulnerability
in hopes others won’t rebuke
banish
or hurt me
but rather see me worthy of mercy
of love
to see me not so unlike themselves
and have pity

because there is an urge
to break the mental silence
to make a din
create a literate clatter
to be certain I am not ignored
forgotten
or misunderstood

because I am sad
I am crazy
I am odd
I am insecure
I am lonely
frightened
cursed
clever

because I am thrilled
full of life
nearing death
desperate to know
confident in my knowledge

because I am entangled
and strangled
by the why of it all

because I can
and so that I might

for all of this
I write

and to survive
I have no choice

• • •

rob kistner © 2010