Antarctica

Last summer I went to Antarctica.

It was covered in ice.

White ice

Cold white ice

Cold melting white ice

Global warming was taking over.

He was blowtorching the polar ice caps.

At Antarctica, I saw pink penguins.

It was warm so they’d taken off their feathery jackets.

They were nude penguins.

Nude and pink like people who’d just sunbathed.

Penguins are cooler black and white.

In a Pot of Bubbling Sauce - The Result of a Quick Poetic Exercise

He had been prowling the streets
The usual routine
Checking for spies
Or even traitors
But the godfather could not save him now
He was far too deep in his own pasta and meatballs
The spaghetti ropes were overcooked and falling everywhere limp
Like the clandestine antiestablishmentarian establishments
Fuck. He thought...he was stuck in a pot that he had not wanted to even step into
Magenta walls towered over him as he hoped someone would find him
Down this dark alley vertical in the ground
He looked up hearing a voice...Bharti? Was it her? Was it that no good mother of his come to rescue him everytime he couldn't solve his own problems?