30 Poems About Landlords
#1
Dear lord,
I do remember our agreement,
But I'm sure,
Almost certain,
That you will understand,
When I skip town,
With only immortal dust,
In my wake.
Enjoy
The deposit.

#2
Dear lord.
Dear lord, the rent is due,
And my pockets
Hold only
The void.

#3
Lord,
Who,
Will clean,
The stove
When it becomes
Tarnished
With tears?
I believe in apartment 1A.

#4
The heat has given way
To the night's wintery embrace.
I'd never venture.
To your dark and Polish rooms,
But my children are cold.

#5
Landlords.
Lords of the land.
Holders of deeds.
Cyrillic madmen.
Is
My
Deposit
Lost?

#6
I can hear Barbara,
Looming outside midnight's door.
Today is April 30th,
And tomorrow,
The rent is due.

#7
There is only one problem
With finally paying off a mortgage
After some 28 years.
Suddenly,
You are your own landlord,
And the rage,
That was once directed
At a faceless bank,
Turns inwards,
And begins to consume.

#8
Dear lord,
Are pets allowed?
Can a friend stay,
With me,
For a few days?
Are there wooden floors,
Beneath this stained, satanic carpet?
Well, how about
A parrot, then?
They're small,
And they shit in their cage.

#9
On a morning like this,
A breeze cools my head,
And the knives lie unbloodied,
With my fury gently throbbing beside them.
It's your lucky day,
Oh collector of bills.

#10
Two bedrooms for rent,
Only four fifty a month,
Low, low deposit.

#11
Dear lord,
I seek your blessings,
Financial,
Or otherwise.
You see,
It's not that I don's want to pay you,
It's just that,
I spent all my money
On love.

#12
I remember
The days,
When a lease,
Was written on the wind,
And signed with an embrace.
Now,
Oh lord,
You are not my friend,
But only a long shadow,
Over my happiness.

#13
A stony face.
And a warlord's accent.
The leaves fall,
And still,
I own nothing,
But myself.

#14
I count bedrooms,
As children count sheep,
But stay awake,
And pray to two different lords,
And hope that at least one,
Will grant me a reprieve.

#15
Excessive noise,
Is prohibited.
Page fourteen,
Paragraph twelve.
Here come
The cops.

#16
Dear lord,
Forgive my trespasses.
I am humbled
By your magic.
The papers you hold,
With their enchanted words,
Stamped by Uncle Sam,
And Aunt Susie.
And Apple Pie.
Who am I to argue?

#17
My fridge
Leaks.
Roaches
Have eaten
My cat.
I've called,
At least
N
I
N
E
Times.
When will salvation
Arrive?

#18
Dear lord,
Yesterday,
After touching the radiator,
I had a vision of hellfire.
Today,
I found an icicle,
In bed with me,
Whimpering of loneliness.
Fix the heat.

#19
Scrill coolig flantern on a lease,
Ascrip talroon stalf and release,
But praining trint wist out a tloo,
Comtint unfliven vanderloo.

Each landlord flimps a fettled hink,
Ocrine, and with an unjined stink,
I would not frumple for a single rill,
Quintescent blist upon that final bill.

#20
I saw the best air conditioners of my generation fall out of third story windows,
Purring whirrs broken by that other invisible hand, gravity,
Children gathered around, watching, whispering clumsy words,
As that cornered demon dripped his last drop,
And looked with shuttered, fading eyes at the featureless void,
That is the ground upon which our dream selves walk,
Wearing damp capes sewn from ancient leases,
Continuously realizing and forgetting that even our time here is rented.

#21
I can hear
The thuds
Of thuggish boots.
Approaching.
I lie quiet as a mouse,
And hold my breath,
Trying not to inhale
The doorbell's acrid ring.
A forceful eviction
Is liable to leave scars.

#22
Sometimes I think that I'd rather be
Homeless,
Or out camping,
Somewhere,
Beyond the reach
Of history.

#23
Whoever built this place,
In 1902,
Must have never heard
Of elevators.

I'm told
That climbing eight flights of stairs
Is good for me.
But,
Fitness without choice
Is slavery.

#24
Your entomological assassins,
Wielding green, gaseous swords,
Burst through my door,
Only to be driven back,
By a deep, dark horde
That will outlive us all.
Roaches.

#25
I look forward to the day,
When empty-eyed robots,
Come to collect the rent.
Finally,
True absentee landlordism.

#26
I see him,
At the store,
Buying milk,
Along with everyone else.
And, along with everyone else,
He is just doing his job.
It is too bad
That his job involves
Throwing the poor
Out into the street.

#27
I married a landlord
When I was 19 years old.
Oh, she wasn't a landlord then.
She was an entire world,
Bundled up
In human flesh.
I loved her so much,
That she was barely real.

This whole landlord thing
Was only supposed to be
For a few months.
But ownership tends to possess
Those who dare call themselves
Owners.
And my darling,
My sunny, brilliant darling,
Withered.
And became somebody else's
Dearest lord.

#28
I am not a religious man,
But once a month,
I get down on my knees,
And pray to a certain lord,
Who,
Five hundred years ago,
Would have been called
Feudal.
Some things
Never change.

#29
You live above me,
Oh, Brad Pitt of Skokie, IL.
You own more
Than just this building.
You own
My heart.

#30
I came back,
After fighting grim men,
And their invisible women,
And found a parade being held,
In my honor.

Then,
Everyone forgot my name.

Three identical men,
In red, white and blue suits,
Offered me a building,
In the suburbs.
"Just collect the rent,"
They said.

Now,
Children spit on me.
Women don't see me.
And those men,
Who don't pray to me,
Like to some god,
Plan my death.

To be a landlord,
Is to be lord of nothing,
But misery.