Best Dada Poems

Dear dada
add an “ist”
to it all

I reject 
in the face 
of it all 

Aestheticism 

true beauty 
is found in the 
ugliness of it all

peaking out 
under coverlets 
of mud 

throwing 
spit balls
of pulchitrude

wrapped up 
time bombs
that stick 

to the banal 
unexpected beauty …
of it all,...

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The
random
selecion-
a hobby-horse
art....

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i call you dada
yes you are my sister
though we are not related
your attitude concerns me
and you don't seem to care
because that's what you are
dada,my sister
that's no way for an african beauty to behave
hanging around bars and pubs
waiting on men to buy you drinks
i call you...

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The young generation shouts
“we don’t have a navel because we are descended from above.”

We have no way to measure their eccentric conduct 
with an ordinary scale, they drink water from a toilet bowl, 
they step on a wall to urinate face down and nibble their...

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.
Umbrella 
calls
evening
This
, 
bring
this
.
Your
for
rain
In
,
Pours
and
just
rains
it
when
it...

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the absurd
riding its
hobby-forze...

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Dada, a.k.a.: "Cold blue hammer running red hot."

Limbaugh Mueller intrusion
Harsh fraud gangster Trump
Russian Democrat fusion
Vivid collusion 
False doughnut rump

GPS hotel conspire 
On sanctuary city impeach
Asylum California fire
Wall Pelosi dire
free speech

fake muse

by, Martin Braun
11/29/2018...

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Sorry...No Time To Play UNO With Dada!

Forgotten memory jarred
beholding two decks UNO
materializing from...thin air,
(Spongebob Squarepants nonetheless),
I vividly recall both offspring

as bubbly little girls
their most favorite card game
both daughters grown
into independent womanhood
(playtime verboten shunted aside,

they now chess attend Life)
relished with zeal
beating pants of this papa
feigned shock,...

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He came beating a path
That devolves everything 
That is norm

Strangely kitted 
Strangling patterns 
Dawning and hatching 
Stirring the hope
Of the unmasked kind

Erasing all dreads
Settling to rest
All that was held aloof...

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Das dada = codified bonafide anachronism

me thoughts infused
with thom hankering for yesteryear
circa antebellum i.e.
American Civil War era veer
rilly, teetering, smoldering, rumbling
upon iniquitous tier

United States greenacres crossroads
with petticoat junction spear
ritually hexed courtesy anti abolitionists
pitted against unfair
slavery, yours truly spellbound
gravitating, fixating, entrancing,

an invisible sonneteer
disembodied spirit transported
back in...

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hobby-horse
performance
art
with 
appeal to
    our sensibilities...

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"MoMa Dada"


baby's first words spoken in broken English...

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calling all mistreated jugglers
and wretches of condemned madhouses
bewitched by fingers of freak fame
the spindly fingers of trickster twins
that open the floodgates to occult caverns
unleashing the brusque wraiths

the brittle symmetry of her glacial eyes
cast down from the empyrean skies 
as a sanctified abyss from ancient past
eyes...

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we only wanted to be kids
not heroes.
we wanted to catch ships of clouds at the sky
not black seadevils in the drain.
we wanted lemons for lemonade
not salt for our wounds.

but there it came
the dramatic change of scenery
prohibition of dreams and innocence
he iron lung in the birth...

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follow the poolside shadows
Venus of Delphi
daughter of bitter waves
peek through the peephole
of my glaucous thorax
open your byzantine eyes and
spurn your locomotor ataxia

one glance at our vitreous hands
– a sight for blind sore eyes 
one brush of our riveted lips
– gone astray in malformations
one ponderous confession...

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