Two Poems from Brian Carpenter

“Mother knows best”

Familiar foes trained in the arts of escalating conflict from The Butter Battle Book
Matthew is my brother and the salt collected from my tears would make Gandhi’s efforts modest
Self-taught in crying on command from too many nut shots and Indian burns, Matt’s weapons of choice
Rocks and small metal cars inflict minor wounds but lack texture, a component of art
Art must illicit feeling and on this particular summer afternoon I was a rodeo bull
We were in the garage and this place hasn’t been full of pleasant memories
Closing a car door on your hand hurts, but sliding the Previa door onto your hand, it’s like listening to Kids Bop ruin your favorite song, a lingering wound
I don’t know what we were fighting about but my face was brick red, funny I should say that
This was the stuff doggy dares are made out of and seeing that brick so inviting like a free chocolate sample, it was time for shot-put stance
Brick in hand, with the salt factory running at full speed and inhibitions paused mother interrupted the argument
Matt, although larger in stature, had taken refuge behind the Camry and that’s when the keynote parenting quote rang out from my mother
“Don’t throw that brick at Matthew, it could hit my car”

Two cents is no sense

Advice is ice cream at Baskin Robins
Every scoop comes at a price
So many angles all unique
Pistachio, mint, anything to fill your cheeks
Brain freeze
This one’s no good
Like a cavity pulling from the root
Oh ice cream
Why are you so sensitive?
Yet immune to my true cause
I think I’ll have two scoops today but hold the dairy
I’m feeling fat
Excuse me?
Ok then, make them separate
Like a divorce, yeah
That’s my two cents, well after inflation, $3.95, goodbye!

3 Responses to “Two Poems from Brian Carpenter”
  1. rumpydog says:

    I really like that second one!

  2. Pete Landers says:

    I’m feeling fat lately, too, so I’ll have three scoops.

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