The Last Race 
Five Poems
By
Jake Cosmos Aller 
 
 
The Last Race

An Aging car racer
Racing in his last race
Driving too fast
Around the curve
Blowing himself up
In a fiery crash
The rating score 
In his last race.

Association of the Living Dead India

In India, several years ago
A man falsely claimed his brother
Was dead so he could inherit the family assets,

The dead brother had to fight 
To be declared legally not dead
And contest the will.

“The Association of the Living Dead” 
Became a movement
Of thousands of people.
For in India apparently,
It was a thing to declare
Your relative is dead.

I never thought 
That the US would have 
To form their own 
“The Association of the Living Dead”
Until this week.

The cyber ninjas 
In their infamous non-forensic audit
In the 2016 Arizona election 
Claimed that hundreds of dead people
Had voted.

They gave their list of the alleged dead voters
To the attorney general
Who contact all 300 dead people
Found that 299 of the 300 were in fact
Not dead and none of them knew
That unnamed political operative
We’re claiming that they were dead.

The one dead voter was alive 
when he voted early.
But died before election day
Thus making his vote not valid
But there was no fraud involved
As he was alive when he voted.

Perhaps they need to form 
The “association of the living dead”
To fight for the right of the non-dead people
To continue to vote and receive other government benefits?

What a sad commentary 
On the farcical nature 
Of contemporary life
In these disunited States of America.


Secret Gateways Photo Challenge

There are secret gateways
Portals to other dimensions
All around us
Hidden deep in the mountains.

Leading to other worlds
Other times and places
Where time runs differently
And humans are unknown.

The lonely mother duck
Watched her eggs hatch
In the nest by the lake.

She was worried
About the foxes, wolves
Lions and tigers

That was all around.
Ever since the humans
All disappeared.


The Secret Fly Drone 

The fly on the wallpaper
In the CIA director’s office
Was not a real fly
He was an enemy spy drone
Secretly controlled remotely
Listening to all the secret conversations
Until the director smashed him
With a flyswatter
Then realized that it was a spy fly
He had dispatched to bug hell.