Morning Would

I’m awake at

five forty seven,

feeling perky,

and a

little bit lewd;

drinking a

vodka-orange,

eating leftover

Chinese food.

Think I’ll go

sit outdoors

in my undies,

and welcome in

the new morn;

perhaps it’ll

inspire poetry,

perhaps with a

slight hint of porn.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Taboo (a poem): In the quiet stillness I would lay...

In the quiet stillness

I would lay,

dreaming about how

we might play;

if I weren’t as timid

as a mouse,

and got you to come

to my house;

we’d run our fingers

here and there,

tickle our bodies so

young and fair;

clothed in darkness

in my room,

under the blankets

I’d assume;

touching new places

we’d not been,

doing what’s natural,

far from sin.

How sweet the tho’t

of me ‘n you,

fucking back then, if

it weren’t taboo.

~gj duerrschmidt

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The Orangenous Zone 

Shades of Gray

Cast

aside

your

need

for

black

and

white,

and

play

with

me

amid

the

shades

of

gray.

~g

  j

 d

 u

 e

 r

 r

 s

 c

 h

 m

 i

 d

 t

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The French Fry Lady

In a busy, crowded

diner,

sits a white woman,

middle-aged,

and

middle class;

Having lunch with

her lady

friends, sharing

gossip,

and

talking crass.

While at another

table,

sits a black woman,

poorly dressed,

with

a young son;

Leaning to tell

the boy

they’ve enough

for one small soda,

and a

burger on a bun.

The three women

soon

get their lunches:

deluxe everything

with

tons of fries.

The young mother

tries to

dissuade her son,

not to stare

with

hungry eyes.

 Calling the waitress

over,

the white woman

quietly asks

another

plate of fries,

To be added to her

order,

but taken to the

mother and son,

free,

as a surprise.

The young boy

smiles

with eyes so big,

when the fries

are

first set down.

Knowing there’s

no such

thing as free lunch,

his mother turns

and

looks around.

In a busy, crowded

diner,

sits a white woman,

middle-aged

and

middle class;

Having lunch with

her lady

friends, sharing

gossip,

and

talking crass.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Diversery Rhyme: Three Men in a Tub

Let’s take a little time

with  a nursery rhyme,

about these three

guys bathing.

It’s innocent enough.

They’re in the buff.

But, to some it might

seem scathing.

Rub a dub, dub,

three men in the tub?

What was that author

thinking?

Three strapping studs

playing in suds,

grabbing for soap

that’s sinking!

“Ooooh, that’s not it,

you silly twit!

Here, let us both reach

in and help you.”

Rub and tug, tug,

three men in the tub,.

oh what big fun in

such a small venue!

~gj duerrschmidt

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Same Sex Marriage: You May Now Hide the Bride

I’m covertly in love with someone,

who prefers that no one else know.

When I call him on his cell phone,

a faceless icon appears, yes, it’s so.

I’m forbidden to be on his Facebook,

for all his friends and family to see;

how could he explain my comments,

he says, and justify what he is to me.

We’ve lived two lives for years now,

outside, we are simply good friends;

but in private we morph into lovers,

burning with passion that never ends.

Now he’s talking rings and marriage,

but demands that I must first agree,

to keep the news that we’re husband 
and husband, between us for eternity.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Florida Keys: Paradise Interrupted (or, an old man's lament)

So, I sit and wonder

     laughing at my inability

     to surf the Internet

as I scratch my gut

     reminding me that

     I’ve lost my desirability

to the young and beautiful

     and, ask myself why

     why, damn it!? Why?

How has it gotten this way?

     and here I am again

     another weekend alone

clutching my remote control

     eating macaroni and cheese

     in my luxury Florida beach home

an old guy and a hundred houseplants

     tropical fish and a dozen wind chimes

     given up on material dreams

watching my sons become alcoholics

     and my cock

     go unused

~gj duerrschmidt

More from this writer at:

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Past Perfect (or, Tale of a White-Haired Pauper)

I’m drinking yesterday’s coffee,

and dreaming yesterday’s dreams;

I’m wearing yesterday’s clothing,

that’s faded with unraveled seams.

I once made more than two million,

then lost even more than I made;

I’m now an old, white-haired pauper,

whose debts will never get paid.

Voted the best dressed in high school,

the one who’d most likely succeed;

no clue as to what the fuck happened;

to know now, there’s really no need.

What I know is the future came quickly;

there’s no time left to alter its course.

I suppose that it’s time I accept this,

after screaming real loud ‘til I’m hoarse!

~gj duerrschmidt

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Volkswagen Bus from Nantucket

There was a Volkswagen bus from Nantucket,

while having its oil drained off in a bucket,

said with a grin, as it slowly poured in,

“I’d finish quicker, boys, if you’d suck it!”

~gj duerrschmidt

 

 

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Rain Dance

Waited all week

to light a fire;

to suck suds

with buds

was my desire.

But, it’s raining,

the wood’s

getting wet;

not to party’s

such a regret.

So I say…

tho’ it may seem

somewhat insane,

B.Y.O.B.!

Come play

in the rain!

Let’s dance naked

around the pit;

get drunk,

get wet, not

give a shit!

After all, when all’s

said and done:

who’ll care?

what the fuck?

Let’s have fun!

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer, visit:

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Chillin' in the Slow Lane

Too much rage and anger,

too much speed and guile;

I like driving slowly,

making people smile.

An icon from an era when

youthful voices cried for

giving peace a chance;

making love, not war;

I now make memories shine

on wrinkled, grinning faces;

of roads once traveled,

of long forgotten places.

A peace sign, a thumbs up,

a wave, or happy laughter;

bringing joy to others

is truly what I’m after,

chillin’ in the slow lane.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Prince of Nails: A Spoof of Genderous Proportions

The prince had his nails did,

royally chillaxin’ in a chair;

a manicure fit for a king,

(or, perhaps a queen, but

we’ll not venture there.)

Young damsels heave heavy

sighs at even the mere tho’t;

no, not of bedding his highness,

but of his radiant beauty,

so natural, not store bought.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

why are we none so fair as he?” 

'Cuz he’s the fairest of them all, 
oh foolish maids, and his 
Prince Charming you'll never be!  

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer, visit:

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