“Skull Fragments #7 & #8”

VII. I Used To Be

I used to be

A coyote;

Mischievous, and


But, now

I am a deer;

Cautious, and

Aware of my


VIII. Sudden Inspiration


There was a click! and

Flash! from the camera.

The bulb in my

Head burned out

To a crackling dimmer.

© 1993 Mauricio Rincon

“Rally Around Your Family”

Predator drones.

Ice cream cones.

Scientifically designed sheep clones.

The depletion of the ozone.

Middle Eastern war zones.

Decomposing body bones.

Garden variety decoration gnomes.

No-knock search and seizures of homes.

Cellular devices are easier to trace than pay phones.

Universities bury you in deep student loans.

While the Government forces us to live like Flintstones.

Swim or sink down to the locker of Davy Jones.

And prepare to hop on a ride aboard the cyclone.

Use green smoke to signal the landing zone.

Rally up at the extraction before it gets postponed.

© 2014 Mauricio Rincon


My poetry is tougher than leather,

Yours is soft and fake like pleather.

I’ll even recite your wack ass poem or whatever,

And make that shit sound a whole lot better.

Go ahead, try and make yourself sound clever.

You’re just a bootleg pirate fool, you ain’t even on my level.

Any last words, before I make you walk down that plank?

I can either shoot you with a musket, or pull out my shank.

I’ll make you famous, like Billy The Kid or Doc Holliday;

My poetry stay more gangster than yours, on any given Sunday.

You really should go home and pray,

Pray I don’t tap that ass and we both turn gay.

And yes, you are welcome to sit at my table;

As I pour maple on mable that just might enable

You to become stable, ready, willing and able;

As I share with everyone, your falsified fable.

©Mauricio Rincon ®Skeletal Abstract 2013

“Heavenly Divine”

There are no parallel lines above me.
So I stand perpendicular.
An amazing amount of fortitude,
Resides in my testicular.
I’m the shepherd
That leads you lambs to the slaughter.
The pied piper,
That ran away with the Sheriff’s daughter.
I’m one of a kind,
You can say one in a million.
Don’t let me win the lottery,
I’ll build homes for the homeless by the billion.
Upon my death
I will tap dance like Fred Astaire.
And boogie dance
All the way up Heaven’s stairs.
But where,
Where is Heaven, do you know?
I guess knowing is half the battle
Like they say in G.I. Joe!
©Mauricio Rincon ®Skeletal Abstract 2014

“Ghost Writer”

As I sit on my throne,
I have been known,
To postpone
The depletion of the ozone.

Two scoops of abstract,
A dash of actual fact,
Keeps my sanity intact
As poetry leaks out of my urinary tract.

I’m highly skilled,
The strongest willed,
Main attraction, top billed.
Fuck with me and you may get killed.

Get bodied on paper.
This is my latest caper.
Send you to meet your maker.
I’m known as the dream taker.

Let bygones be bygones.
Love women in little thongs.
My words poke like prongs.
Someone should turn my words into songs.

©Mauricio Rincon ®Skeletal Abstract 2015