Love Poem for a Loveless Age

Oh Lotto Ticket!

You make phone sex obsolete, your tongue
moves over the gutters of my body like a street cleaning truck.

Your love is like a red, red
Tube of toothpaste

You are better for my mouth than Scope
You are better than bubble gum blown
during an action packed movie

You’re more exiting than Twitter
More meaningful than Google
I get lost in Best Buys
Dreaming of your stupid afterglow grin.

When I think of what your fingers do for my Friday nights
A free Lamborghini… Bores me.
I am obsessed by what we do in bed more than what I do with my…

 Visa at Nordstrom’s

You are to me
What potatoes are to potato salad, big dresses were to Mama Cass
Tie-dye to hippies
Plastic surgery to Tinsel Town…
You’re hotter than a Hollywood Comet, cooler than Kevin Spacey

You’re my “Living End” 

My Marilyn Monroe Sleeping Pill
Janis Joplin Hypodermic, Buddy Holly Plane Ride
Jim Morrison Parisian Bath
Your my Billy Holiday Heroin-dusted Gardenia, my Birthday Wish

You pop out of a ten foot cake to give me free orgasms an hour
Then go for one more…
Oh Fuckkitten, Loveclone, Suckpuppy on your knees in the morning
The best thing about you without doubt is that    

You… are… imaginary!

ccR13
http://www.rattle.com/print/10s/i13/

Note: This poem first appeared in Rattle 17 years ago! Wow, has it been that long? The version above is updated and revised to make it more current, but the thrust of the poem is the same: Anti Consumerism & Comedy. ~ Rayn Roberts.

I Woke One Days & Was a Man

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I’d wondered how it would be in a body
Rented from God–
Damaged goods, cargo bruised each day

I thought being a man
Would mean
Being free to go wherever I want

Not bound by the chain Mr. D yanks to remind me
This is his game and he’s nearly won.

I recall being a boy
Dreaming big
Ready to invent a man, needy

So restless, eager to leave
And be here
In this bag of  walking skin and bone, waiting

Feeling time pulled out from under me slowly
God’s clown, Death’s dog

 

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Where Does Buddha Sit?

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In truth Buddha nature is everything, so then
Did Buddha nature play a part in
Bombing Nagasaki and Hiroshima and why
Are the histories of the Buddhist east

As bloody and as savage
as the war-torn Christian west?

I have no easy answers
But offer this

Buddha Nature-Nuclear bomb
Nirvana a bomb

To the illusion of self
That’s what nirvana is

No suicide, but still
A gun to the head of self.

Nature says do, survive, assert, intend
Buddha sees the third eye explode
A mushroom cloud in your head–
Buddha sits in every whole and broken atom.

 

The Quantum Buddha

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Poem appeared first in

“Of One and Many Worlds”

Poetic Matrix Press

JUST BREATH

Who in the World Is He?

Biography

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Rayn Roberts, a poet who writes about peace, war, political and social issues was born in Jacksonville, NC; was a long-time resident of San Diego and graduated from the University of San Diego where he studied English Literature and Religion. For many years he lived and taught in Japan & South Korea, but now he lives in the Pacific Northwest. He’s published three books. His latest, published by Poetic Matrix Press is “Of One and Many Worlds”. The Fires of Spring, a collection of Buddhist poems, was reviewed by editors at The Golden Lantern and Poetic Voices. In 2006 he was included by Evolving Editions in their interfaith understanding series …

Illuminations: Expressions of the Personal Spiritual Experience

His work appears in the printed anthologies: The Book of Hope & The World Healing Book from Beyond Borders Press ~ In the Arms of Words: Poems for Disaster Relief by Foothills Publishing and Sherman Asher and The Philosophical Library of Escondido California’s New Anthology entitled Paths. He is also found in Journals Chronogram, The Golden Lantern, Rattle, Rattapallax, Retort Magazine, City Works, The Sow’s Ear Review, Poetic Voices, Voices in Wartime, PoetsWest, Thunder Sandwich, The Pedestal Magazine, Fireweed, Poet’s Corner in Fieralingue and others. His books are available on Amazon and Poetic Matrix Press. For more info google the name Rayn Roberts or go to….

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Of One and Many Worlds

 

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I Have It All

I am the lone lion of my home
Not lonely, but self-contained.
Everything here is for me alone
Scratching post, furniture, food

Supplied by one I keep away
Until I want the warmth of a lap.
Leaping up, I settle fur and stay
As she reads on couch or chair

Purr to sleep as if she were a bed
Allow the idea that I am a pet
But I own her; let no one forget
Why am held so dear by all…

I am my own self without doubt
Cat, without apology or excuse
The universe is here just for my use.

 

Rayn Roberts

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