A Group of Words Meant to Simulate a Poem From the Perspective of Ron Polar At the Grocery Store

Saw some food. Got some food.

Damn pretzels on the floor.
Should I kick them
underneath the frozen food section,
or let that bored-looking bag boy know?

Maybe I shall crush them underfoot
and then let the poor kid clean it up.

But I won't watch,
I'll just chuckle
at my own imaginings
of his pissed-off demeanor.

A Poem Written from the Perspective of DJ Quicksauce on a July Morning

The sight of a rainbow tiger
or circles of dancing skulls
remains our of reach
or out of focus beyond
these files

I have knowledge and knowledge
and knowledge
without knowledge
of what it is for

In fact that knowledge
is not
I would say

Words and actions
interchangeable

My footsteps on the sidewalk
have taken me further
this very morning
than the vapor trails
that criss-cross the sky

I have taken the long road
with one foot and
carelessly tossed the shoe
from the other

Alas

wondered
what the sunsets and sunrises were, what they were like
on a day when coming felt natural.

Tim always laughed it off,
but thought hurt feelings later,
there was no way to moo
for the milk.
No way to trot
his trot.

Lungs gasp, hands grasp,
but the ponies of Reggie from Cleveland,
surpass.

Nietzsche was a treeloper,
dangler of fire.

And the ash of Tim
is more exciting
than the palm of his hand.

Free Diggle

Upon Tim Management

Tim is dead.

Mary always thought he was nice.
Said, "Maybe if you could focus more
when you come,
you'd understand the difference
between sunsets and sunrises."

Tim always laughed it off,
but thought hurt feelings later,
like she didn't like the way he
was coming, or worse . . .
didn't like the way she was coming.

There are only so many moos in
a day and so many gulps in a lifetime.
So many gasps in a lung, and so many
pokes in a finger.
Every drivers license falls apart someday.

Edit-me PLEASE -- I have one time, Mr. Polar.

I will get your rivets?
Will you get mine?

"Are you getting rivets?" she asked, and "What's the
time?"

Electric horse field?
Or nether regions?
I'm not sure which is divine,
in this line of work.

Reggie stands grunting, grunting
phunting with musphunts and
caruphumbuses on one foot.
On one Cleveland toe, which you shall
just leave behind me.

"Get on the lopsided elevator, prick."
"Are you being born? Or do I simply
own you and everything you thought
you believed?"

Nietzsche was a treeloper,
and a barralogist,
over time, he will pass from
us as urine usually does.

We'll go through the fortress
of the jack
of all
fakers
or down
to the town
of Wonderjerks.

Tiy wants to know
the name of the
name you gave him
at the restaurant.