By Samatar Elmi
Who art in Cali.
Programmer by trade.
Thy start-up come,
thy will become
an FTSE 500.
Give us this day our…
Programmer by trade.
Thy start-up come,
thy will become
an FTSE 500.
Give us this day our…
Explore Poems: Humor
Showing 1-20 of 679 poems
- By Xi ChuanTranslated By Lucas KleinIf I could, I would put on a facemask and walk into the desert to meet with fairies and angels.
I put on a facemask to resist sandstorms, put on a facemask to resist smog, put on a facemask to make... - By D. A. PowellSaid my illness
I’m tired of being
serious all the
time I don’t
like how you
treat me like
we haven’t shared
the same apartments
for eighteen years
long enough to be… - By Natalie ShaperoGod come on stop cutting me
out of your photos God stop dragging
the mouse around my shopworn
body like a chalk outline then clicking fill
with background God I know
that times are tight I know you only
made one death per person I’m sorry
to... - By Rafael CampoOutside somewhere, beneath an atmosphere
So pure and new each breath is musical
And silent, mouth-watering, without taste,
So full of butterflies one can’t imagine
Because it hurts to be so free, out there
There was a hospital where AIDS was cured
With Chinese cucumbers and... - By Susan BrowneI know something’s cooking
When you give me that look,
Your eyes appearing slightly crossed
Above your CPAP mask,
Which you start taking off,
The mask that saves you from death
By apnea but makes you look like a snorkeler
From dreamland or an escapee from a... - By Amorette "Epiphany" LormilI’ve parked parts of an 8-knot tongue somewhere in my breath
My glottal effect be global
Sound like everywhere I’ve been
Speak like 441 and Peachtree
My language is southern
The fine line between bourgeois and uppity
I am narrator of the equator’s talk
Got a whole... - By Wanda Colemanwhat bohunkian images i have of you
crash against my niggernoggin as i shiver and stroll
long air-conditioned aisles at 2 a.m. the liquor
1 under lock and key, the lettuce full and moist with
a fresh spray of mist and neon
my cart wobbles... - By Ya ShiTranslated By Nick AdmussenImagining another person is like writing my diary in poetry.
We don't know each other, but the same demon possesses us both,
like we're playing a game before they carry out our "destruction" —
A competition between idiots; nobody knows its delights.
Here, I denounce... - By Kit SchluterYou can call me Puppy, or you can call me Sweetybuns.
You can call me Glasscake, Cromagnonpoops, or Pigeonselter . . .
You could even just click your tongue twice whenever we
catch eyes—
ah, from no matter how far away... - By Betsy FrancoSend to: techno_cat@catmail.com
From: me@catmail.com
When writing friends an email
I sometimes &p*&%^$#
have a fit
if Mitchell walks across the keys
k:j^$% and adds a note
vpq#peifgu3gy ... - By Raymond LuczakAfter being abducted by aliens and left incoherent
in the woods across the street, the government
would quietly whisk me away into a secret hospital
where machine parts would be grafted, little by little,
onto my nonfunctioning body parts. Now bionic,
I would hear the... - By Marcus WickerSome of you future motherfuckers oughta be
ashamed about the state of your ply count.
Ol’ hologram square, skid tread-
bare, pressed-dandelion-dust-on-a-roll-having
jokers. Bet you’re allowed to have company over.
For shit’s sake, fam. What you know about Chanel
Cottonelle? Perfumed & powdered
as your Great Aunt... - By Dorothy ChanChinese superstition tells me it’s bad luck
to get a haircut when I’m sick, and my hair
gets cut twice a year, because I let it grow,
tying it into a ponytail, exposing my forehead,
looking... - By Wendy VidelockDear Writers, I’m compiling the first in what I hope is a series of publications I’m calling artists among artists. The theme for issue 1 is “Faggot Dinosaur.” I hope to hear from you! Thank you and best wishes.
... - By Al ZolynasI look over my own shoulder
down my arms
to where they disappear under water
into hands inside pink rubber gloves
moiling among dinner dishes.
My hands lift a wine glass,
holding it by the stem and under the bowl.
It breaks the surface
like a chalice
rising from... - By Paul MuldoonI’ll be the Road Runner
To your Wile E Coyote
I’ll take you in my stride
I’ll be a Sancho Panza
To your Don Quixote
Your ever faithful guide
I’ll stand by you in the lists
With our market strategists
I’ll be your sideman, baby,
I’ll be by your... - By Alberto Ríos1
Pies have a reputation.
And it’s immediate —no talk of potential
Regarding a pie. It’s good
Or it isn’t, but mostly it is—sweet, very sweet
Right then, right there, blue and red.
It can’t go to junior college,
Work hard for the grades,
Work two jobs on...