Heaven by Jakob Chapman

Like eating Canadian bacon
in the shower
while my lover
takes a leak

Decisions 2000 & 8 Sample

A sample of Jakob Chapman's new poetry eBook Decisions 2000 & 8 is now available!

Decisions 2000 & 8 Sample

Publish at Scribd or explore others: Poetry Creative Writing 2008 poetry

Tader Gun by Jakob Chapman

I fell in favor
with my future father-in-law
while piping the PVC
reducing inches
from 4 to 2
with a pinch
gluing the pieces
and filling the chamber
with hairspray
bug spray
and propane
while he stands back
behind the shed
and I launch a spud
somewhere
over the rainbow.

Toadstool in the Sky by Jakob Chapman

I held her hand
as we watched the sky
the first
warm spring sun
setting
casting shadows
on the mountains
capped with ice

we watched the clouds
form fluffy shapes
plume and billow

“It looks like a mushroom,”
she said

I nodded
and we fell asleep

Decisions 2000 & 8 by Jakob Chapman

zealous pie reminds me of horrible treatment
.....nutty cars, complex playgrounds
.....didactic shoes and an extra-large sweater.

an absorbing woman reminds me of anxious operations
.....puffy dust, coherent ladybugs
.....clean market and an upset middle.

free light reminds me of huge competition
.....makeshift meals, a muddled rainstorm
.....fierce fuel and my nippy income.

aromatic toothpaste reminds me of adventurous snails
.....clammy crayons, soggy attention
.....scintillating tomatoes and silly uncles named Sam.

oafish police remind me of an unsightly cannon
.....jittery crime, tart poison
.....illegal shirts and powerful cats.

lean nerve reminds me of thoughtful writing
.....disillusioned feet, wary reason
.....nonstop wash and violet wrists.

a political laugh reminds me of ambitious art
.....obsolete face, ashamed wave
.....magnificent education and a murky mind.

“Little Milton” Inspired by Ian Anderson's “Thick as a Brick” by Jakob Chapman

Would have you minded
had I sat that one out?
Never drawn lace
or black curtains
and laid the bricks
of someone else's fortune?
Who wants to be the poet
who lost his fame
in last minute rumpus
all for the unpopular desire
to be unique?

[FLUTE SOLO HERE]

Progressive rock aside
for a quite moments reflection
after reading the morning paper,
who will remember
Gerald Bostock
for anything after '72?
I never asked
to be a visionary
fictitious poet protégé!
I collect my royalties
and dream
about what life would be like
if your wisemen
knew how it feels
to be thick...
as a....

Because I Love You

I walked home barefoot
tonight
after tucking you in
and locking your door

the sidewalk was wet
uneven in places
warm while crossing
the road

periodically rubbing
rocks out of my soul

I had an answer
prepaired if anyone
were to ask
why I was walking
barefoot

I hope when you find
my shoes
in your livingroom
you understand

I wished you
could have felt
the sidewalk
tonight

Fill thy Purse by Jakob Chapman

O thou lout with surly folly-fallen nut-hooks!
Wherefore art thou a clouted crook-pated pumpion!
Thou didst leave me like a cockered ill-nurtured horn-beast!
Quench my spleeny pottle-deep desire, thou mammet!
May a tottering onion-eyed harpy give birth in your bed.

O thou bugbear with jarring rump-fed measles!
Wherefore art thou a cockered pottle-deep clotpole!
Thou didst leave me like a warped tardy-gaited flax-wench!
Quench my fawning fat-kidneyed desire, thou malt-worm!
May a vain base-court fustilarian give birth in your bed.

O thou fustilarian with puny spur-galled dewberrys!
Wherefore art thou a gleeking rude-growing haggard!
Thou didst leave me like a infectious ill-breeding pumpion!
Quench my spleeny weather-bitten desire, thou hedge-pig!
May a gleeking fool-born strumpet give birth in your bed.

O thou canker-blossom with villainous doghearted codpieces!
Wherefore art thou a reeky rude-growing baggage!
Thou didst leave me like a bootless knotty-pated hedge-pig!
Quench my droning weather-bitten desire, thou malt-worm!
May a vain hedge-born flirt-gill give birth in your bed.

O thou nut-hook with droning shard-borne hedge-pigs!
Wherefore art thou a puny tardy-gaited apple-john!
Thou didst leave me like a infectious fat-kidneyed coxcomb!
Quench my mewling flap-mouthed desire, thou lewdster!
May a droning rude-growing flap-dragon give birth in your bed.

If sticks and stones be the food of hate, break on,
Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.

Dam By Jakob Chapman (Inspired by Barry Seiler’s “Window”)

The gate opens early morning
But ends in flood

It would like to gush fountains
Water-spilled mote

It would like to be an ocean
Suddenly fluid

It would like to be something

Something like this

A dam without a crack

Dam #2 By Jakob Chapman

If spring had a name,
how could I speak hers
in its presence
without offending
the same season
with the sound
that suits her best?

If water could be bound
to only one place,
I would use
the new-found
impossible method
to contain my heart
and shut it away.

Until all bitter captivity
one day turns the sad
broken organ mad,
and sends its contents
bursting the dam wall,
racing around
desperate avenues,
until it finally finds her,
pools about her,

her white bare
ankles.