Devil’s lettuce—
so that’s what we’re
calling it these days
not your mother’s romaine
or your father’s kale
https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/poem/1074185
AMERICAN ZEN KOANS: Schaefer, George: 9798809062107: Amazon.com: Books
MOISTURIZING CREAM
There are still times that I get carded in bars or venues. It’s usually an indication that the establishment sits in an uptight municipality or they recently got tagged for selling booze to (too) young’uns. I won’t give them too much trouble since they’re really just doing their jobs. And also, a lot of venues have guys at the door with necks thicker than a redwood tree. I just show them the card and move on with my life. People say that I should take it as a compliment. Hardly, they aren’t looking at me and thinking that I might be under 21. They’re doing it because some asshole council member wants to make a statement. It would be great if it was a compliment but I’m not that naïve. I’m not standing there thinking “Gee that new moisturizing cream is really reaping dividends.” I’m usually just anxious to get in the door and get settled.
Largely not nessa
a delay in the next beer
thirst waits to be quenched
https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/prose/1086114
Cannibalized Haibun: Schaefer, George: 9798416456573: Amazon.com: Books
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
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.
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.
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
