My life is measured out
     in bags of dog poop.
Morning, noon, and night,
     we walk -- I scoop.

My life is measured out...    (by Chris Kermiet, read by the author)

Oh Beautiful for polluted skies,
And genetically modified grain;
Strip mining tears off mountain tops,
While landfills dot the plain.
And smokestacks rise to dim the skies,
Small birds no longer sing. 
And as we gaze toward latter days,
What will thy future bring.

Merika, Merika (Oh Beautiful for spacious skies...)

Absurd.
Sitting here on the edge of time
with this gnawing feeling
in the pit of my stomach.
No feeding will cure —
neither coffee nor tea
nor milk nor beer.

Absurd/Hungry

Absurd/Hungry (by Chris Kermiet aka K1, read by the author)

O desert, thou driest me out!
I feel like the train tracks
that march through thee to nowhere.

Desert Psalm

Desert Psalm (by Chris Kermiet aka K1, read by the author)

Happy Birthday. What's the big deal?
You're always just as old as you feel.
If you're feeling older, and closer to death...

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday! (by Chris Kermiet aka K1, read by the author)

Deck the house with Christmas lights
Won't this neighborhood be a sight.
Put lights in the shrubs and lights in the trees.
We'll decorate the house the way we darn well please.

Deck the House (with Christmas lights)

Deck The House (with Christmas lights)

Nothing can be done 
about our salvation.
By a God, or a 
politician, or an election...

Creating Our Salvation

Creating Our Salvation (by Chris Kermiet aka K1, read by the author)

Intelligent Design?  I have suspicions,
when I see our monkey politicians —
Creation must be accidental.
I see nothing Providential ...

Intelligent Design?

Intelligent Design? (by Chris Kermiet aka K1, read by the author)

'Twas the eve of Old Christmas 
and all through the land, 
not much was happening, 
and the Christmas tree stand 
was empty, and waiting 
to be put away,
with eight tiny reindeer 
and a miniature sleigh ...

The Eve of Old Christmas

The Eve of Old Christmas (by Chris Kermiet aka K1, read by the author)

Would you leave your daughter alone with this man?
Why, He's the President of the land.
Better watch your daughter, he might nab her,
He's our President Pussy Grabber!

President Pussygrabber

President Pussygrabber (by K1 aka Chris Kermiet)

Orangy, Porngy, what a guy!
Grabbed some pussy, told a lie,
Or two, or three, or five, or ten –
Make America Hate Again!

Orangy, Porngy #2

Orangy, Porngy #2 (by K1 aka Chris Kermiet)

Mitch the Grinch

Chris has had several careers in his lifetime: as a jazz performer and arranger, a rock drummer and record producer, a traditional dance caller and teacher (contras, squares, English Country Dance), and as a composer (primarily electronic and choral music). He's been writing poems since his early 20's, and has been putting them online, one per month for the last 4 years, at http://poemofthemonth.us

Chris Kermiet

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