It’s official!
I’ve transitioned
from getting old
to being old.
I was at
a bachelor party
watching a stag film.
Everyone was hootin’
& hollerin’
over the action on the screen.
I was sitting there,
incredulous look (I suspect)
on my face
thinking, “Damn!
That position can’t be comfortable.”
https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/poem/1062387
They found him
in a room in Thailand—
pants down, belt around neck
big smile on his face.
The prostitute in the room
sobbing and swearing
it was an accident.
Auto erotic asphyxiation
gone horribly wrong.
And then there are suicidal tendencies
and people hanging themselves.
But families lose the Ka-ching
if it’s suicide
so now we have lawsuits
claiming deceased loved ones
were really just perverts—
No intent to die
Just intent to cum
Auto erotic asphyxiation
gone horribly wrong
But maybe we’re taking
our idioms and adages too far.
Maybe we need
to drop “choke the chicken”
and bring back “spank the monkey”
There will still be
a lot of redness and swelling
but at least you’ll live
to recount your shame.
https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/poem/1071061
Iridescent jewels lay buried
deep within the soul
waiting to be excavated.
I struggle for
the pure stream of consciousness
as twisted ideas
rampage through my mind.
I recklessly splatter
and sprinkle words
across the page
in mock rhythmic cadence.
It’s been suggested
in some circles
that I am a poet.
I haven’t had
the Batman dream
in quite awhile.
That was always
my favorite recurring dream
in my early adult life.
The basic gist of the dream
is that I would be Batman
with uniform and Bat Cave and all.
Of course,
I wasn’t a very good Batman.
I was more interested
in making time with Catwoman
than preventing crime.
Then people ask the obvious:
Which Catwoman was it?
Was it Julie Newmar or Eartha Kitt
or Lee Merriweather or Michelle Pfieffer
or Anne Hathaway?
I’m truly a whore
because it always rotated
among the different CatWomen.
All of them (including Haile Berry)
appeared in at least one dream
and truth be told
I’ve yet to select a favorite.
https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/poem/1065749
Enchanted by
these mystic ballads
sung by princesses
who smoked Moroccan Hashish
and gave head to monks
dipped in Holy Water
as the soul is purified
in thoughts resounding in caverns
never heard to cackle
a harsh or untrue word
https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1087216
Fact is sometimes
stranger than fiction.
A case in point
is a recent Dead show
in Washington DC
I was partying up
in the legendary RFK parking lot
getting primed for the show.
I was talking to
a college girl
about the scene
and explaining how
it’s mainly just in fun
only a few of us
ever actually take it too far.
No sooner do I finish
my soliloquy
than a guy goes running by
screaming at the top of his lungs:
“THERE IS A GOD ABOVE!!!
THERE IS A GOD ABOVE!!!”
and dives into the murky waters
of the Anacostia River.
and I’m standing there stunned
thinking, “Open mouth, Insert foot.”
at this amazing spectacle.
Now, I’ve drank excessively,
done all kinds of substances
both licit and illicit.
I’ve been fucked up drunk,
stoned, obnoxious, dosed,
zoned, dusted, zonked,
blasted, plastered, under the weather,
high, wasted, toasted, roasted, wired,
tripped up, smoked up;
I’ve puked, passed out,
gotten sick, made others sick,
misbehaved, acted like an ass. . .
But in all the madness & chaos
it never once occurred to me
to look for God at the bottom
of the Anacostia River.
6-7-95
https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/poem/1062033
And postulating
on poetry
and wondering if
the inspiration
can be found in mown grass
and dry summer nights
as the beer
is no longer
enough
to fire my soul
a green fairie is beckoned
with a belief
in transcendence
or at least
a serious buzz
https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1094866
I peed on my foot
but pretended I didn’t—
the basis for Zen
We can only imagine
the truth we wish to ignore
https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/poem/1080555
bathroomgraffiti