You Say Gazelle, I Say Ghazal

Like the graceful leap of the wild gazelle,

the thoughts bound high that the stanzas tell in this ghazal.

 

Like the ambitions of Prometheus reaching for fire,

the poet aims his lofty goal to assail in this ghazal.

 

Like the prophets and philosophers of days long past,

the poet calls for revolution but prepares to fail in this ghazal.

 

Like the epics of those legendary ancient bards,

the poem employs figures, each word a sail in this ghazal.

 

If writing poetry is pretentious, even dangerous,

then poems about poetry are the unholy grail—hence this ghazal.

Copyright 2019

T. Allen Culpepper

Stream of Unconciousness

Grandpa livestreams Grandma to split smitherscreens,

dispersing her particularly across the cyberverse,

as if he could convert her to a cartoon meme

in lieu of writing sonnets in iambic pentameteors.

 

Of course, he didn’t mean to do it; he’s merely

a few arcades behind with his technology;

though his aspiration for her’s meant sincerely,

his actions might eventfully require an apogee.

 

But it’s dutiful he’ll dismember; these daze

his mind’s not quite as Sherpa as it once was,

and sometimes it travels in thyme and spaces,

or skips out on its office to take long lunches.

 

Grandma, meanwhile, is blessfully unaware,

humming showrooms while she wishes her hair.

 

Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper

 

 

Fairy Tail

Advisory:Sexually explicit

 

Once under a time out of the water nearby,

rode a knight with a shiner, armoured,

on his lusty steed, seeking a handsome young prince,

bored and expiring, to bore some spirit into.

 

Everyone he met, he questioned,

“Where can I find a handsome young prince,

bored and expiring, whose hungry hole

needs some liberation?”

 

And always they answered the same:

“There’s a prince, just like you describe him,

kept in a dungeon under the castle,

and rumored to take all comers.”

 

So off to that dungeon rode our knight,

the motion of his steed, along with the

anticipated action, making him more

than a little bit horny.

 

Arriving at the castle and barging

into the dungeon, the knight saw

the young prince, handsome as promised,

naked and shaved and tied to the bed.

 

“Well, fuck!” said the knight. “Everything’s

just as they said! “What’s your story,

my ravishing young prince? How did

you get yourself into this predicament?”

 

“Simple enough,” the prince responded,

“My royal parents grounded me here

to keep me from being promiscuous,

but it hasn’t quite worked out as planned.

 

“They always forget to lock the door,

so every night a new knight shows up

to fuck me and leave me—and leave

me unsatisfied, because all their cocks

are just average, and I need a lot of lance.

Will you kiss me, untie me and take me away?

I am ravishingly handsome, after all,

and you look a little lonely yourself.”

 

“Eventually,” said the knight, but first

I’m going to ravish you, handsome,

and liberate your slutty ass with a lot

of my lance, which I think you will find

more than adequate, but if you’re still

unsatisfied, we can have a three-way

with my steed, who’s hung like a horse

and always up for anything.”

 

No doubt the knight with a shiner,

will fulfill all the desires of the

bored young prince, and they’ll kiss

and ride the steed off together.

But, right now, it seems

they’re still going at it.

 

Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper

 

Hesky Kluk? Check!

He wasn’t actually Czech, of course,

though he checked all of my boxes,

European possibly, or Latin American,

speaking a Romance language to his friend,

in line behind me at the grocery checkout,

buying flowers, lilies, I think, for someone

else, probably one of his lovers,

but I had already checked him out

from produce, over by the mangos,

his hair tied up, muscular T-shirted torso,

lightly-haired legs between shorts and sneakers,

probably an international student at the uni,

not Czech at all, but still a pretty boy.

 

Copyright 2018

T. Allen Culpepper