A Poet’s Dilemma
By Dennis Domrzalski
Published by Logan Square Press
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Dennis Domrzalski
ISBN:978-0-9851813-1-4
Discover other titles by Dennis Domrzalski at Smashwords.com:
I Got Stinky Feet, Volume One: Open Air Asylum
I Got Stinky Feet, Volume Two: Fools, Losers and Idiots
Raped: Memories of a Catholic Altar Boy
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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CONTENTS
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Introduction
A long time ago I wanted to be a poet, a real poet who saw gloom everywhere, who could look at a gurgling, smiling baby or a meadow of beautiful and fragrant flowers and want to commit suicide. I wanted to write real poetry, poetry that literary critics, creative writing professors and real poets would approve of; poems about death, disease, hunger, depression, war, deceit, greed, poverty, abuse, jealousy and degradation.
I practiced at being a poet. Every time someone laughed, I scolded them and reminded them that someday they would die. I wept constantly and wrote deep, meaningful and depressing lines that no one could understand. I went to department stores and checked out ovens to see which would be best for sticking my head in and turning on the gas. I damned the sun and its light. I brooded and worked up an anger and depression about everything. I fantasized that my poetry would depress the entire world—every single human being on the planet—and that we’d see mass suicides!
I was on my way to being a poet!
Then something happened. One day I sat down with a pen and note pad to write more depressing drivel, and nothing but absurdity came out. I started laughing and enjoying life—I even patted babies on their heads and smiled at them—and realized that I was too normal to ever be a real poet.
Since then I have studied poets and have come to realize how silly and absurd so many of them are as they wallow in depression and angst. And I started writing silly poetry.
I hope you enjoy this collection of poems. They’re fun, and yeah, there are a couple of serious ones in here, but so what.
Have fun,
Dennis
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A Poet’s Dilemma
Why poets are always depressed.
I sit on the bank of the fisherman’s stream,
Feeling depressed and wanting to scream.
For how can I write of the large-mouthed bass
When I’m standing here sticking my thumb up my ass?
How can I bespeak the wonders of thee
When I’ve nailed my tongue to the trunk of a tree?
Oh what a well-read poet I’d be
If I scribbled on paper instead of my knee.
The day grows dark.
The light does pass.
I’m standing here stuffing
My head up my ass.
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Truth
Like a toad without warts
And a kitchen with no sink,
A pen ain’t nothin’
Without any ink.
You can hold it and feel it,
And move it any way you think,
But a pen won’t write
If it hasn’t any ink.
White paper, black paper--
Be it lavender or pink--
A pen won’t write
If it ain’t got no ink.
Like a devil without sin
And a sewer with no stink,
A pen ain’t nothin’
Without any ink.
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Love Never Lies
A love poem for love-sick poets
I love you my darling.
I love you my dear.
I love you at the beginning
And end of the year.
I know you don’t love me,
But like me a lot,
So by the time you read this
I’ll pro-bly be shot.
My brains ‘ll be splattered
All over the wall,
And someone, I know,
Will give you a call.
When you first see me
Please try not to cry;
Just remember, my darling,
It’s for you that I died.
I know you will come
And visit my grave,
And I hope when I’m gone
You’ll fine-ly behave.
When you visit at the beginning
And end of the year,
Just remember, my darling,
I love you, my dear.
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Pain
Sometimes life doesn’t go the way we want.
I’m in love with Mary,
She’s in love with Jane,
Chubby Ed just winked at me--
Life is so insane.
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Cocoa and Iced Tea
I wondered what my underwear
Was doing at her house,
And why I had her pantyhose
And clutched her stained white blouse.
I only went there for a cup
of cocoa and iced tea,
But something happened, and my god,
The things that I did see!
I never really liked iced tea,
But now I think I do.
Whoever thought hot cho-co-late
Would get me such a view!
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Heat
They saw each other in their eyes;
Reflections seared with heat.
Of two lost souls who realized
Their hearts as one did beat.
His racing heart did nearly rip
His heaving chest apart,
How thrilled he was to hold her now
And this this thing to start.
He wanted to consume her soul;
Her essence make his treat--
Her lips and face and inner thighs;
His joy would be complete.
He’d longed to be now where he was,
Since he first saw her then;
He knew he loved her instantly
And wondered only when
He’d have her right here in his arms
And tell her with his eyes,
That fine-ly had he found his love--
She was his only prize.
He knew he could no longer be
Demurring and discreet,
If now he were to take her in
And soil up the sheet.
“All these years I’ve wanted to,”
He said with joy replete,
“Caress your perfect pair of things--
“Those large, sized sixteen feet!”
She hesitated just a bit,
Then wiggled her large toes.
She looked at him and then she said:
“I need your crooked nose!”
They gave each other to themselves
With sheer abandonment,
In sixteen days they finished up
And both were sorely spent.
They went their sep-rate ways and so
Again will never meet,
But he did snap a photograph
Of her large calloused feet.
It’s up there hanging on his wall,
And when he needs relief,
He takes it down and rubs himself
With her sized sixteen feet!
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Coming to Grips
Joy overcomes a fear of the gods
I yearned for ecstasy but feared
Just what the gods would say,
If in my hand I took my joy
And with it tried to play.
“Insane you’ll go,” a stern voice warned,
“If you dare stroke that putz.”
I hesitated ‘till I thought:
“Hey, I’m already nuts!”
Wooooooooheeeeeeeeee!
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Oops!
Be careful what you bring home.
I wondered what her underwear
Was doing on my head.
I didn’t get to think too long,
‘Cause wifey shot me dead.
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Achieving Greatness
Greatness is easier than we think.
All my life I’ve searched and yearned
For something great to do.
Now that quest has ended, dear,
‘Cause I just sniffed your shoe!
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Good Sense
You have to have your priorities straight.
I climbed up to the mountaintop
And took a look around,
I didn’t see a liquor store,
And so I came back down.
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Eyes
I took my eyes out of my head
And laid them on the floor.
A neat and nifty trick it was,
But I can’t see no more.
I tried to pick them up and put
Them back into my head,
But ‘cause I couldn’t see the things
I stepped on them instead.
If you have got some extra eyes
I sure could use a few.
If not I’ll use the ones I lost
And scrape them off my shoe.
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Letting Go
To him she was just everything.
He wasn’t much to her.
And so he had to stop dreaming
Of things that never were.
It hurts when you do realize
That they don’t love you too.
You have to cry and then move on.
In pity you can’t stew.
It hurts when you are not the friend
That you once thought you were;
To know that you misjudged someone--
To know you misjudged her.
I guess you just shed all your tears,
And cry until you can’t.
And then buck up and realize
New love seeds you must plant.
You’ll find it in somebody else--
That you do have to know.
You can’t let sadness get to you.
Your love you must let grow.
So cry my friend until you can’t.
And then just let her go.
Then pick yourself up off the ground
And watch those love seeds grow!
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Ambrosia
The mind doesn’t lie when it comes to love.
To him she was ambrosia,
Sweet to the taste and touch,
He couldn’t shake her from his mind,
He loved her way too much.
Every night she was right there,
In all his many dreams,
The love they made made angels sing,
They were such wondrous scenes.
She wasn’t there when he awoke;
It happened once again,
And so he dozed back off to sleep
To dream what should have been.
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Song to Benjamin
Benjamin, oh Benjamin!
I sing a song to thee.
It makes me feel real weird,
But damn, I sing on key.
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A New Year’s Eve Desire
A strange, but passionate desire.
I’m a big-nosed idiot,