Returns

Returns

Hollywood turns out movies

and sequels by the score.

You say you liked Batman?

Well, here's Batman 2, 3, and 4.

After a concert is over

we stand and yell for an encore.

No matter what it is we like

we always seem to want more.

Hell, we couldn't even stop

after a single world war.

Can there be a return of sanity?

That's the only thing I wish for. - Jeff Barnes

Gizmo

His fur,

a pure white aura,

augments his face

like the mane

of an albino lion.

His eyes,
blue gemstones,

glow like tropical waters

under the light

of the sun.

Afternoons

he takes his rest,

savors the comfort

of the pillows

in his basket.

Dozing,

he knows that all

is as it should be

in his demesne

protected by Bastet. - Jeff Barnes

Bedroom

My childhood bedroom was a wonderland

of stuffed animals and miniature cars,

Little Golden books and records

and plastic men from Mars,

drawing pads and crayons

and stacks of comic books.

In between two chests of drawers

I had a little reading nook.

The monster models on my shelves

always gave me a fright.

I could swear I saw them move

after Mom turned off the light.

My best times were spent holed up

in my insulated, magical place.

I wished I could detach it from the house

and fly it off into outer space. - Jeff Barnes

Dodgy Knob

He'll blind you with the glare

from his spotty bald head.

His shifty little eyeballs

are beady and red.

He comes from a family

that's thoroughly inbred.

Pray he keeps his shoes on

for he has stinky feet,

a piping little voice

like a newborn lamb's bleat,

and despite all this

he is full of conceit.

He seeks out new prey

in the personal ads.

He abandoned his girlfriend

and the children they had.

He doesn't even know

that he is a grandad.

He's got a microhead

that looks more like a node.

He drives an egg-shaped car

up and down the road.

He's got more poison glands

than the average cane toad. - Jeff Barnes

Outside the Window

Rainy Sunday.

The sky is the same

tone of gray it has been

almost every  day

for a month.

Faded lilacs

across the way

do little

to contrast the

oppressive dreariness.

I wish

that the kids

had been out

yesterday

creating graffiti

with their chalk

so that we could
today have seen

a river of many colors

bleeding

    down

        the

           street. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

April morning fog --

dead twigs on the rain-glazed deck.

Mom's been gone a year. - Jeff Barnes

Maximilian Melonhead

Maximilian Melonhead is an interesting case.

I don't know how he copes.

He has a regular human body,

but his head is a cantaloupe.

This is the way that he was born.

Nobody can figure out why.

He has a strawberry for a nose

and two blueberries for  his eyes.

He has a banana for a mouth.

It can be a smile or a frown.

It all depends on how he wears it,

right side up or upside down.

There is no sound too quiet

for him to overhear.

Not a whisper escapes the Saturn peaches

that he has for ears.

Occasionally he has rosacea

that lasts for several weeks,

which is actually a crop of raspberries

that breaks out on his cheeks.

He rises early in the morning

and works from eight to four

at his job as produce manager

of a local grocery store. - Jeff Barnes

ZOOM

Z  looks like speed

a running leg

or perhaps

a cartoon swoosh

Two Os

look like travel

wheels

rolling along

M folds in on itself

like an accordian

or perhaps

something that has been

crashed into

by a Z and two Os. - Jeff Barnes

The Cat on His Head

Titus Taradiddle wears a cat on his head.

His followers blindly swallow his lies.

It's easier than learning to think instead.

Titus Taradiddle wears a cat on his head,

knowing how easily his disciples are misled.

Unable to see the craftiness in his eyes,

they end up believing whatever he has said.

Titus Taradiddle wears a cat on his head. - Jeff Barnes

Transition

Mind where you step!

The sky is under the street!

You can see birds fly

if you look down.

Cows now have wings

and all the buses have feet.

B-52 bombers

are flying under our town.

If you jump straight up

you'll land in the water.

The ocean is where

the sky used to be.

The winter wind

is getting much hotter

while the summer days

average minus five degrees.

The sky has turned green

and the grass is now red.

The most rational scientists

have now become mystics.

Push everything you know

right out of your head.

What was once our reality

is now anachronistic. - Jeff Barnes

Ode to a COVID-19 Mask

My wife made me
a protective mask.

She did it on her own.

I didn't have to ask.

She told me it was

a rather simple task.

The fabric's pattern is

the Day of the Dead

with smiling skulls of blue,

green, yellow, pink and red.

It protects me against

the disease's spread.

It's good to know

when germs are rife

I have such a caring

and creative wife,

one who loves me

and values my life.

I know this poem

is hardly Byronic

and this plague we're fighting

is not bubonic.

But I am protected by

a day of the dead mask.

How ironic! - Jeff Barnes

Stuff

A red push robot with a

silver heart on his chest

always cheers me up

when I'm feeling depressed,

a handful of rubber duckies

with devil horns on their heads,

a little plush purple

unicorn named Ned,

a goofy pink 

dinosaur hand puppet,

though my hand is way

too big to stick up it,

a faux jade Laughing Buddha

that glows in the dark,

a space-suited Snoopy

made by Hallmark,

some skeleton musicians

from the Day of the Dead,

a masked Mexican

Lucha Libre bobblehead,

I've got so much stuff

on my shelves and in nooks,

and that's not even

counting the books! - Jeff Barnes

Optimism

Cold windy morning --

unconcerned budding branches

do a dance of spring. - Jeff Barnes

Retro

Bring your typewriter when you move in.

I still have my old VCR.

I have a cassette deck in the house

and an eight track in the car.

I'm glad that you don't judge me

or consider me a dinosaur

just because my home computer

is a 1982 model Commodore 64.

I may be getting old but I can still

fit into my bellbottom jeans.

I have a swag lamp in my living room.

My stove and fridge are avocado green.

After dinner we can settle back

and enjoy some instant powdered tea

as we watch the programs from our youth

on my RCA XL 100 console TV.

We can sleep in my water bed

and bathe in my claw-footed tub.

I still have all the albums I got

from the Columbia Record Club.

We can listen to mix tapes we made

of all our favorite songs

as we sit together on the floor

and play endless games of Pong. - Jeff Barnes

Over the Top

You're the cream cheese on my everything bagel,

the maple syrup on my fresh from the toaster waffle,

and I feel I must warn you that this poem

is going to get immeasurably more awful.

You're the amaretto flavored creamer in my coffee,

the no calorie sweetener made with saccharin in my tea,

the marshmallows in my bowl of Lucky Charms cereal,

the vanilla ice cream in my cherries jubilee.

You are a warm blanket on a winter night

and this is going to sound even more sappy:

you are a beautiful, mild and temperate day

after three straight weeks when the weather has been crappy.

You are a memory foam mattress for my bed,

an ottoman for my favorite comfy chair,

the feel of a thick shag carpet under my bare feet

unless I step on a sharp tack that I didn't know was there.

You are the feeling of rest and rejuvenation

after a much-needed afternoon snooze,

or a comforting Chinese foot massage

after a five-mile walk in extremely tight-fitting shoes.

You are like going to a Picasso exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art

after I've seen nothing but inept, amateurish doodles,

or like a seven course gourmet meal cooked by a Cordon Bleu chef

after I've had a steady diet of nothing but ramen noodles.

I know sometimes my words spew like lava from an erupting volcano

and it probably would be best if I'd learn to be more terse.

I'll just say you're supreme, you're the best, you are nonpareil 

and conclude this godawful poem before it gets any worse. - Jeff Barnes