Tag Archives: Luvgood Carp

The Santa Cycle – Part 5

It was the eighth shopping day
before Santa jumps in his sleigh
and sprints around the world
on a trip fueled by meth and cocaine
stealing my cookies and all the acclaim
for the gifts I bought with a card
I'll no longer be allowed to retain.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

Miss Disdain

I met a girl whose smirk was fire
when on the edge of thirteen.
I'd been a boy unblemished by desire
before she burned her brand on me.

Her disdain drove me to distraction.
Her antipathy struck me as wise.
She taught joy brings no satisfaction
and contempt is Love's favorite disguise.

Miss Disdain grew up and multiplied, 
and I have delighted in each Fury's spite.
Knowing all the flaws that I hide
their indifference can only be right.

She was the alpha of all cruel passions
whose touch would make lesser men wince
and in various forms and fashions
I've chased Miss Disdain ever since.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

Union Street

Let's go down to Union Street
where impoverished people meet
around barrels brimming with green despair.
They'll fidget nervously while we stare,
as each in turn dips a cup,
lifts to quivering lips and drinks it up.

On Union Street the barrels overflow
so we'll see many rounds before we go.
And as they drink themselves blind,
we'll walk through a door they'll never find.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

Neptune Returns Home

Lord, could it be I'm not as great
as they've been telling me?

I was told at an early age
that I'm better than the rest.
I have trophies that prove it true,
but now in every contest
I'm beaten by more than a few.

For years I splashed in a tub
pretending to rule the wine-dark sea,
but when I go to Dad's club
no one confuses Neptune with me.

Now here I am back in my old room
(having finished my education)
with an hourly job and minimal pay
and these trophies say participation.

Lord, club-footed Byron couldn't dance
but You gave him eloquence and artistry,
and now he's the avatar of romance.
So, Lord, what gifts do you have for me?

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

A Tiny Voice

Yes, of course,
we, too, care about
a neglected rose struggling to survive
among the scattered bricks
of a crumbling house,
but we've already done
all we can.

Remember
a child has a tiny voice
and no money -
hardly the sturdy platform
on which to make demands.
Yet here she stands
with her small voice,
empty pockets, and 
accusing eyes,
while we continue to tell her
to trust the spider
who swears
he wouldn't hurt a fly.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

Mrs. Muzzle

By Monday morning,
a furious Mrs. Muzzle
pounced on Uncle's lap,
took her petite paw
and gave his smirking lips
several wicked whacks.

But he continued to talk
as if he was used to that
repeating a tedious tale
about a dubious time
when Smear the Queer
was a Hunger Game
the neighborhood kids
would play.

And everyone was proud and happy
though no one was proud and gay.

Problem people stayed silent
otherwise they were gagged,
and proper people spoke English
with a mid-West accent -
the same one Jesus had.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

Precious Little Useless Things

What do we call the innocent?
Those precious little useless things
we honor with large words
and then largely ignore.

As we do ethics.  Or courtesy.

Better yet -
those prophets of doom 
with science degrees.
What do we call them?

Oh, yes, we call them fools.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

Crows

I like how you describe that poem
more than the poem itself.
You see things I don’t,
and the things you see have deep meanings –
deeper perhaps than the poet intended.
You see birds symbolizing change.
The young leave the old
and neither knows the impact of the parting.
Shockingly this lack of comprehension is of no consequence
because there is love in the leaving.
Even after reading the poem several times,
I see crows.


I am not sure you are right,
but I know you are not wrong.

I would like to see that poem as you see it.
But whenever I see you and me in a mirror,
I am reminded:
you have poor eyesight and a temperament that is too tender.
They are your most egregious shortcomings,
and I have benefitted from both.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

The Thin Resentment

There was his strength that now is gone.
There is his memory of strength that cruelly consumes
and there is our failure to find any solace.

There is my feeble suspicion that somehow
he allowed this to happen
and my thin resentment that this will be my inheritance.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

For the Record

Scientists on Earth
believe oxygen on Mars
is behaving strangely.

But how would they know?
They have never visited
that remote red rock.

And who made them judges
of what is normal and what is strange?
When they know nothing of normal
and they, themselves, are so strange.

Have they considered instead
that maybe oxygen behaves
normally on Mars and 
strangely on Earth?

Or maybe oxygen
can behave no other way
because Mars is nasty
and treats oxygen like
a noxious gas.

The HR department believes
I’m behaving strangely.

But how would they know?
They have never endured
the daily indignities
I am subjected to.

Have they considered instead
that maybe I’m behaving normally -
given the circumstances?
Maybe they wouldn’t judge
if you had been nasty to them;
treated them like a noxious gas;
left them to live life
like cockroaches in the dark
wondering what will happen
when the light turns on.

So for the record,
if there ever is one,
this is not my fault.

If you had only returned
my calls, texts, emails,  
or come to the door
when I pounded on it,
your basement window
wouldn’t be broken.

I wouldn’t be bleeding
in your airless closet.  

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief