poems by Rudolf Kurt Penner

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July 27, 2020 Posted by | social commentary | Leave a comment

About — Poetry Spoken Here

interesting poetry blog with audio poetry http://www.poetryspokenhere.com/info

May 8, 2020 Posted by | social commentary | Leave a comment

it’s snowing on Canadians

In Feb’uary it snowed
everybody I knew was dying
The flakes kept coming down
How did Canadians become so flakey
No one wanted to pay money to dreamers
no effort was rewarded
but Volunteerism was promoted as the road
to our Dreams

If we couldn’t earn money we spent money
we didn’t have

If you believe in God you will die
in most cases
If you scratch in the earth
you may get a harvest or you may not
Getting is the result of giving, they say
yet I never found what I was looking for

In Feb’uary it snowed
and the geese had flown to America those traitors
Every snowflake is different –– ain’t that the truth
it’s sick to see Canadians getting bossy
when they can’t push back very hard
I have a job and it’s my own
Only I tell me what to do
and will I listen

An old man pissin in the box
carry it to the toilet
no effort goes unrewarded, isnt it that what they say
but I find none of my efforts rewarded

It’s the Snow; it prevents people from driving
very good. And it could be an excuse
for not bringing me my money

We’ve heard of golden platters; and silver
upon which elegant Eagles can be brought
Standing on one leg
being plucked of their feathers
Let it snow
the shadows on the wall are harmless
I fear they’ll not be there next time I crawl by

an old man trying to catch a fly
why not catchem with fly agaric, I say
o, o, never heard of it
see what’s so great about walking in herds
you’ve heard of the Eagle, you’ve heard of sin
you’ve heard of letters written in the sand
the shadows are homeless
The wolf is at the park
Where’s granny –– she’s standing on one leg

In March the Winds came
and people began flying kites again
with a backdrop of steamy chemtrails

©2019 Rudolf Penner

August 6, 2019 Posted by | Not Fade Away, social commentary, Spooky | Leave a comment

Church Fondler

There he am, planning his attack;
the subtlist attack ever known to man,
the piano ––
will play a part
the fanatic molester will go down,
in a heap of flames
in front of everyone he touched the girl

I looked up sexual fondling on the net
this position was not found
there is no mention of it:
touching a 14-year old girl’s waist
and moving both hands up and down
while comforting her about an issue

I watch and while I’m watching,
I can’t believe this is happening
I think: you think you’re getting away with this, but you’re not.

Was she his granddaughter, niece, or church member’s daughter

so clever, not to touch her breasts
but sliding ever so close
same latitude

and smugly suppressing his smile

how long have you been doing this, buddy
not touching breasts or bums or cunts

this poem is owned and operated by Rudolf Penner
©2019 Rudolf Penner

May 12, 2019 Posted by | girls and trees; flowers and bees, social commentary | , , , | Leave a comment

Christmas in July

If you have the Presence of mind
I recommend – Christmas in July
coming to you from Down Under
the rabbits bring the thunder
Have you ever met a Richmond rabbit
You should get in the habit
they eat the little blades of grass
on Minoru Boulevard
it’s a present that doesn’t need wrapping
They’ll also pose for photographs
no matter how good your camera is
I used a phone
and no one said hello

Take out three semi-precious stones
any weekend in July
and the magic will happen
take your alligator shoes
and hide inside: a bottle a’ booze
‘could be Absinthe – ‘could be Chartreuse
Let the Celebration begin
Perhaps Three Dog Night could sing
Jeremiah was a bullfrog…
and all your long-lost stable friends
could have a picnic on the grass

If you borrow all those unused dog baggies
– they’re green you know
You could make a plastic Christmas tree
for all we know: Love is All You Need
if you start before Santa gets there
you’ll get no pudding

The Christmas whistles will blow
throw down the odd “ho ho”
and watch a movie: like: Rudolph and Frosty’s Christmas in July (1940)
join your neighbours in a dance
see the two-horned reindeer prance
It’s all up to one-and all

Chomp out some dandy yule log
with the roaring digital fireplace on the screen
hell, take the rollercoaster if you can
bring some pots and pans
and plink and bang upon them like some Tinkerbell
wear you favourite Mrs. Santa suit
or bring your horn and give a toot

Soon you’ll fill with Christmas Cheer
‘cause soon Old Santa will be here
he’ll dance around and spring
and join the picnic like some Roaring Rasputin
And fill his pipe with solar flare
and go raring through the sky at 9 pm

Look at the old photo albums
when you were 2 or 22
and remember your long-lost compatriots

Dream the Dream of Santas past
and hope the sunny skies will last

Call London, call Rome
shovel up after the reindeer and call home
Sweeten up with some Turkish Delight
and set up some candles for the night
they’ll twinkle like a million stars
when seen by strangers from afar

© 2018 Rudolf Penner


Rudolph and Frosty’s Christmas in July Trailer

How to make a yule log


July 24, 2018 Posted by | All Poems, social commentary | Leave a comment

Without Their Consent

Telling people what to do without their consent

Drives ‘em all around the bend

2 grand won’t pay for the way a person feels

4 grand won’t pay for ‘em to ‘eal (heal)

Tight-lipped with no Voice and no Freedom

You may as well have left them bleeding

8 miles down there’s a horse and carriage riding

in the Underworld, that’s why it smells like shit   on  the way to freedom

There is a river and a man with bow and quiver

       taking aim, yet no arrow

nodding for justice and not begging pardon

16 miles along the road to higher learning

there’s a dip , and a ruby mist

waiting to be born on the wings

of a red-breasted meadowlark: soldier bird*

There is unharvested land where nothing is canned

and serpents await the plowing  whereupon

they go out into the fields

older than the leaves of the gingko biloba*

I sit and dream of all the four-leaf clover

it may not pay for all my pain

but sun may smile, and then again

tight-lipped freedom is no freedom at all

on the hind legs of Tatu’s* ball

© 2000 Rudolf Kurt Penner (name of blackbird, and research added April 16, 2018)

lyrics for potential song

*(Leistes militaris) Trinidadian: “soldier bird”: a black bird with a red breast. Also seen in Costa Rica, Peru, Brazil and Nicaragua (Formerly called red-breasted blackbird, but it is not a member of the red-winged blackbird family)

*gingko biloba: a type of leaf from which is made a supplement that helps clear thinking and blood circulation

*Tatu virando bola: a type of armadillo that can roll itself into an armoured ball when in danger. Native to Brazil   https://youtu.be/-x71UlnYVEU name of video:

“Tatu virando bola, Armadillo rolls into a ball – In the wild Brazil”

April 25, 2018 Posted by | All Poems, social commentary | , , , , | Leave a comment

Years later

Years later the poet looks almost the same.


October 5, 2017 Posted by | social commentary | Leave a comment

lost among the ruins

lost among the ruins  Old Gordon Lightfoot plays the fools
and fools are in the show and shoes are in the school
fouling up the lockers, scaring all the schoolgirls
webfeet wetness and street sense smartness
calling coo-cooing through the fields
with trees on their side
and old wagon wheels rotting between
the long grasses

I grew my cherry on a tree that grew and grew
beside a children’s playground. And hardly
any one knew it was there, just my pet detective

west among the flowers I dot my q’s and p’s
and fools are lost among sloughs and snowmobiles in the great outdoors
messing up the scenery, ticking off the animals
snoeshoe webness and backpacking hardware
tempting Natures’s own strict laws
4000 ft above the ground
timber lying across
the boy’s skinny legs

I grew up but never compare my growing
to the maturity of others my age and older
we were not fond of each other. they all knew
it and we knew and slandered each other

© 2017 Rudolf Penner

October 5, 2017 Posted by | esoteric/unintelligible, nature, Not Fade Away, social commentary | 1 Comment


As we were walking

  and in a group, she said

I’ll put that on when we get to my place:

  it was Fernando, by ABBA

and that was the artist, Inge

  but she never did

But some forlorn loudspeaker

     that was rather quiet,

       was playing it on the street

I said I could play in on the guitar:

     no comment, so I said it again

     no comment  plus – I’ll put that on

       when we get back home

I have that one

The sun was shining for once; and we’d met

  on the wall that goes around the sea

There I was taking photos of my friend Sylvia

        practicing kung fu

born of a forlorn preacher

The Russians stept in,

and everybody left; everybody who could, that is,

   they soldiered on thru

       to other continents,

miserable oceans by boat

I caught a glimpse of my mum’s Chinese,

   but she would say she forgot

   she would lay in bed for days

     after she got cancer

     and stink up the house with

her rotting peaches

What a drag it must be, to be like that

mentally ill people don’t get cancer

at least I’ve never met one

      miserable oceans apart

what it must be like, living on

  a dog’s leash

a gift of the horse in the mouth

     a grave on either side

     some artist wrote a book

some author plays the game of brandy + cigars

   talks with the gen’lmen-scholars

  and they go back to their boots and hunting

      and triggers and hairpins

and planning the annihilation of the enemy

Tigers walk slowly, eyeing up their prey

   the tips of crows’ wings  setting off the sky

What if the grass is greener on the other side

   And parents off the tan their offspring’s hide

I don’t know what i feel inside

with all the oil paint sitting there unused

the tiggers hoped I’d create a portrait

of them stealing through the brush

the way I figger I can’t get caught

doing something bad

   It’s the best linen canvas you ever had

I would lay back for days

coaxing my back back into shape

  It hurts after working

  and the frog outside keeps croaking

Crow may leave a versatile feather

        for me to pick

  from the ashes

in the sand

And I will go play in the band

with all my wet music

  stained and haunted by

        a silent sadness

©2014 by Rudolf Kurt Penner

January 15, 2016 Posted by | about artists/poets, Not Fade Away, Personal History, social commentary | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

One Mountain Lion, One Police Car and One Deer

One Mountain
and One Police car
and one deer

And three trees,
and 2 deserts

One mountain Lion
one woman with long hair
spinning her web

one dried up sea
stretching from see to see point

a rattlesnake wriggling thru

shorten my sentences
with a hangman’s rope
cut with a razorsharp

here we are

bring me a rabbit and a blade of grass

tomorrow’s the nightday

Northern California, close to Reno

one mountain lion
one police car
and one deer

the tracks were laid down long ago
by a featherlight pen

now the pigeons sit on trains
even in boxcars
satisfied by a seed

by a fountain pen

and they were all here

drinking from the well
of the golden snake nearby
asking the camera for a projection

© 2014 Rudolf Kurt Penner

April 23, 2015 Posted by | All Poems, animal poems, social commentary, spiritual | Leave a comment