SHOT OF JAMESON TO CHASE THE BEER

I skipped out

on the poetry reading

at the free library

where I was scheduled to read

a new brewpub opened

just down the street

and my whistle

required a little wetting

so I walked down the street

oblivious to any consequences

or hurt feelings attached

my name was on the list

for the open reading

They’ll call my name

and be greeted with silence

and they’ll call my name again

going once going twice. . .

Perhaps, I consider,

my best reading ever

as I belly up to the bar

and order my first beer

but I’m also feeling

a little frisky

so I order a shot of Jameson

to chase the beer

I really don’t know why

I felt so nervous an hour earlier

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1101450

AMERICAN ZEN KOANS: Schaefer, George: 9798809062107: Amazon.com: Books

NAKED GUY (haibun)

You’re just trying to have a good time enjoying the music.  They tell you that all the crazies like to congregate on the field in a quasi mosh pit of sweat and flesh.  A few of the crazy manage to work their way up to the nosebleed section to shatter your tranquil peace.  Hey, you’re at Citi Field in Queens.  You have to expect as much.

Quietly passing a doobie and enjoying the ride when a drunken (or high) lout starts harassing people.  He is bothering the women and then wanting me to kick his ass.  I just want him to leave.  He is finally escorted away by police and we notice that he is not wearing any pants.  He was shoving his junk in other people’s space.  He wants me to hit him.  I await security and police to escort him out.  No one injured but a few people stirred by the event.

Pants still required

no one wants any mushrooms

at least not that kind

Then after he is removed, we all wonder about it.  I didn’t even realize he was half naked when I was trying to convince him to just walk away.  I never beat up a naked guy before.  I’m glad I didn’t have to start here.  I don’t think I need something like that on my resumé.  It’s not an entry on my bucket list.  I assure you of that.  Then a couple police officers had to find his clothes including his undergarments.  That was a rather unpleasant recovery.  It made me glad to just be a drunk, stoned Deadhead.

Mad search on bleachers

find abandoned underwear

reclothe nude moron

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/prose/1099622

Cannibalized Haibun: Schaefer, George: 9798416456573: Amazon.com: Books

TRUTH FROM A BLUTH

And so for some reason, George and Lucille Bluth are my parents and we are living in a rather elaborate treehouse.  I’m not sure what happened to the old model home.  I must have turned into GOB since I was dating Marta or at least a chica Latina muy caliente.  I field many criticisms from a sister who feels I am unworthy of such love.  Apparently, we have opened up a restaurant and are trying to make our fortunes.  We keep losing money even though the restaurant is always busy.  An obsession with the truth emerges as we try to come to grips with what is going on.  I find myself trying to get down from the treehouse to investigate

So truth from a Bluth

Are we expecting too much?

Lonely view from top

A bookstore employee comes forward to reveal the truth.  The news channel is running a special segment on our family’s deceptions.  It would appear that the end is near  We huddle in the treehouse determined to find a way to overcome this latest adversity.  Someone suggests that we tell the truth and get everything out into the open.  The news anchor on the TV screen is still ripping into the integrity of the family.  Maeby is off in the corner playing coy with George Michael.  The news channel is now on a continuous loop of a news anchor tearing down our family

We concede the truth

but a Bluth don’t know the truth

lie we live too deep

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/prose/1101675

Cannibalized Haibun: Schaefer, George: 9798416456573: Amazon.com: Books

IT AMAZES ME

It amazes me

I think in blue rhyme

of language splattered

across sullen minds

of timid boys

pistol whipped by sergeants 

and bullied into 

this transgression

by subconscious dreams.

Hidden desires

left unfermented

fossilized in back reaches

we cross that land

avoiding Mongol warriors

& wicked con artists.

And of fire

these eyes burn intensely

with that overflow;

the raging impassioned cry

of search and defeat.

This game is not over yet

No, this is not the end of it.

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/poem/1070369

Choke the Chicken (or Auto Erotic Asphyxiation Gone Horribly Wrong): Schaefer, George F: 9798434885959: Amazon.com: Books

NORTH CITY BUS ARMATURE EMPLOYEES

People need a sense of identity.  This can apply even when the identity is not such a good one.  I worked at numerous shit jobs over the years,  The pay was low and the benefits were poor.  Of course, they were just pass throughs for me,  It was a means to survive for a few months or a year or so.  But the employees often took on a sense of identity even if it was a poor one.  When things went wrong, they would exclaim, “Normal people wouldn’t put up with this shit but we’re North City Bus Armature employees.”  There was a sense of identity even in working a shit job.  People need that sense of belonging and sometimes it comes even when it’s a shit job.  Hey, I can’t be a rock star or an NBA star but I’m a North City Bus Armature employee and that is my sense of identity.

Sense of belonging

we identify poorly

deluding ourselves

into a sense of import

even under great abuse

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/prose/1121291

DON’T TAKE LIFE SO SERIOUSLY

Someone

took the time

to offer sage advice

while all

I really wanted

was a quite space

to relieve myself

so I sit

& contemplate the words

Life is serious

It’s really yourself

you shouldn’t take
so damn seriously

I want to live a long life,

create art,

add beauty to the world,

help others

and make the world a better place

so I’m poeticizing

bathroom stall graffiti

cuz I really do think

my shit is all that

and doesn’t stink.

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/poem/1080162

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE TO DO POETRY AGAIN: Schaefer, George: 9798449725561: Amazon.com: Books

JUNIOR’S SLIPPING GRADES

Hitchhiking

Bristol Pike

thumbing a ride home

drop off at 7-11

to snag large Slurpee

and a pack

of Fleer baseball cards

no longer sure

why I collect

maybe I’ll get a Schmidt

or a Carlton

usually a bust

I get the scrubs

no one will remember

10 months from now

let alone

10 decades from now

but the Slurpee

is purple

and more grape

than I can handle

crossing train tracks

I follow Second Avenue

and slip back home

a new Van Halen album waits

the cradle

will indeed rock today

loud and clear

as Junior’s slipping grades

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1115641

RETURNED THE FAVOR

We had our falling out
and she went on the warpath

I became the villain

in all her tales and pomes

And somehow

the best poem she ever wrote

is about

what an asshole I am

My response  was

to express pride knowing

I inspired her finest poetic moment

I sip my beer

and reflect

30 years later

still her finest work

perverse pride emerges

She probably doesn’t hate me anymore

She probably doesn’t

even think of me anymore

30 years later
still the best poem

she ever wrote

and I do toast a lot

when I drink

I can take twisted pleasure

even being the asshole
twirling my mustache

and howling with laughter

but, of course,

if people come

to love this poem

I suppose

she’ll have finally

returned the favor

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1090198

MEANDERTHAL MAN: Schaefer, George: 9798826122174: Amazon.com: Books

DAY OF RECKONING

Sitting at the Trestle Inn indulging in a Trestlewide.  There’s a candle on the table and a video on the wall.  It’s footage of Nancy Sinatra presumably singing “These Boots Are Made for Walking”  but there’s no audio.  There’s a young lady on stage in the backroom dancing some go-go.  I snap a couple pictures of the dancer that come out blurry.

Young lady dancing

leisurely gyrating hips

enthralling vision

I notice that “Dancing Queen”  is playing on the P.A.  I make no comment on the soundtrack.  In my younger days, people got beat up for listening to Abba.  I figure that a day of reckoning may be upon us.  Perhaps another Trestlewide is in order.  I am greatly enjoying watching the dancer.  It’s an easy decision to make.  We do need to restore some order in the universe.  It’s not like I need another Trestlewide but I want one.  And I’m content listening to the music and watching the dancer.

Pour me another

let the moment continue

perception slipping

slowly draining of clear thought

just one more moment in time

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/prose/1107525

SQUANDERED SERENDIPITY: A Second Helping of Cannibalized Haibun: Schaefer, George: 9798354488872: Amazon.com: Books