The Federal Voyeur Hotline

We created the Federal Voyeur Hotline
because sometimes people can't decide
if what they're watching is a crime,
so we say you shouldn't try
because you can never be wrong
if you let us decide what's right -
especially when so many matchsticks
are begging for a reason to strike.
So it's better if we watch too,
and if you don't call us
then we'll watch you.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

The Managing Partner

I'd like to thank Edge of Humanity Magazine for publishing this poem first.  If you are unfamiliar with this journal, it publishes a lot of interesting art, poetry, and commentary.  You can find the journal here http://edgeofhumanity.com

The Managing Partner

Don't tell me he was fooled by a pretty face -
not when we've given him the run of the place.

Yup, he paid her 45,000 and begged her to stay.
She said thank you and still walked away.

Did she at least give the money back?

Nope, it hit her account and she started to pack.

[Sound of Toilet Flushing]

I'd be fired if I negotiated such a deal.
He took her to dinner and she ate his meal.

[Sound of Water Running in Sink]

When he spilled Jamaican coffee on his shirt
she grabbed his fork and ate his dessert.

[Sounds of Self-Satisfied Smiles in Mirror]

Then without even a backward glance,
she walked away wearing his pants -
down the block and across the street
joined another firm, free to compete.

If the facts got out the partners would riot.

I wonder if he'd pay us to keep it quiet.
Because if we tell he'll lose his lofty position
and he'd never accept such a humbling transition.

He does lead us like a hearse to the tomb
all while believing he's the smartest in the room.

But his brilliance wears a brilliant disguise.
It's only seen with a mirror and only with his eyes.

[Sound of Door Opening and Closing]
[Sound of Toilet Flushing]

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

NTGILTY2

Looking good, McSmugly, looking good!

That's what I hear whenever I see
my marbled face staring back at me.
Not that I seek my reflection out - 
it's just that in my office
I have so many mirrors about.

And who might McSmugly be?
Is that what you're asking?
                                                      Seriously?
How have you not heard of me?

I am the Creator

of a law firm:  Swift in Justice LLC.
Visit my website for a wonderful profile of me.
Win a pass for the free parking lot,
and read my motto:

The Truth Is Negotiable - My Fees Are Not. 

I do personal injuries
but I specialize in misdemeanors and felonies.
Are you sure you haven't heard of me?

I have storefronts in two states.
Hell, I drive a gold Lexus with vanity plates.
They say NTGILTY, which is what my clients tell the jury
then I take over and earn my fee,
because alibis don't sound like lies
when they're spoken by me.

I have never lost a case
though my clients have lost quite a few.
But I have no time to rue their fate - 
not when I'm Prometheus chained to an hourly rate.

That's how I live NTGILTY too.
When you charge by the hour, how much you make
depends on how long you stay awake,
and your ability to bill during a bathroom break.

So I never have time to reflect
and the only thing I ever regret
is all those fees I fail to collect.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

A Prayer for Less Love – MasticadoresUSA

We are thrilled that MasticadoresUSA has published our poem A Prayer for Less Love. We really appreciate their kind support.

A Prayer for Less Love

I’ve heard what you say in the name of love
and your favorite word is no.

I’ve seen what you do in the name of love
because the purple bruises still show.


Please go here https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2022/04/05/a-prayer-for-less-love-by-luvgood-carp/ if you would like to read the rest of the poem.

Thanks very much.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
  

Empty Boxes for Cats

Inconceivable!
Did he not see the signs?

I am sure that he did.
Still, he refused to comply.

Did you politely ask him to stop?

I certainly did,
and he said he would not.
Instead he mocked me much more,
did a lewd dance - 
called my mother a whore.

Inconceivable!
He can't insult people here.
It's simply not allowed -
the signs make it perfectly clear.
And your mom's not a ho.
Has he even met her?
Is there something he may know?

Oh, he knew what he was doing.
He saw the signs and smirked.
Then the profanity started spewing.

But the signs should have kept him away -
like empty boxes ward off cats
and old people avoid Tampa Bay.
Why does he keep saying such vile stuff?
Could it be the signs aren't big enough?

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

Why Are You Clutching a Cat?

Did the kitty commit a crime
and in your imagination's prison
is this how felons do their time?

Or did no one want to sit with you
because humans find your company
as terrifying as cats do?

Do you crush anything that's cute?
Should we notify the ACLU
or wait for PETA to file a lawsuit? 

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

Chinos

Now this is progress.
The trash trucks are new
crisp and clean.
I can see my silver reflection
deep inside the battleship gray panel
protecting the womb where the waste is crushed.

This speaks well of my city -
removing the rust belt that trapped it
inside grungy jeans covered with coal dust.
The city can now put on a nice pair of chinos
and reasonably hope the beige stays clean.

The trucks glide to a tuneful stop
and the refuse managers emerge from the cranium
in crisp clean battleship gray uniforms.
They tenderly lift the comatose
larva-like addicts and homeless
and gently place them in the womb.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

  First Published in BOMBFIRE

Denise Denies It All

But Denise
the ceilings have ears
and eyes are in every wall.

Argus hides in the cloud spying 
on your Uncle Sam bobble doll,
which nods nervously on the dash
looking for a place to crawl.

And if Argus spies it
then she spies you
because no one accuses 
you of being small.

Everything you hide is a peepshow 
behind a thin glass wall.
Every lewd whisper and Judas kiss
is recorded for instant recall.

But Denise -
Denise denies it all.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief 

The Poet Taster

Why does Homer's Muse disdain me?
Why won't nymphs touch my flute?
When heroes sail the wine-dark sea
why stay at my desk and salute?

When will I know love from lust?
Why is it both cause a stomachache?
Why are lies all that I trust?
Why is drool all that I make?

My muse is a mouse in a cage
who refuses to obey my command,
and when I touch the cold chaste page
it slaps the dry pen from my hand.

Wicked muse, eat your stale cheese,
blow your foul breath on another fake -
allow my feeble tongue to unfreeze
because I've forms to fill, calls to make,
and I'm near the end of my coffee break.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief