Welcome to the new Jeff Lockman Poetry Page. What? You say you didn't know
that Jeff wrote poetry? Well, we don't know that he does either. The following
are works composed about the lovely Mr. Lockman by a number of respected poets.
If you have any short poems or haikus that you would like to submit to the Jeff Lockman Poetry Page, please email them to email@example.com. If I print your poem, I will credit you and give you a cool title. I cannot, however, remunerate you for your submissions because the Jeff Lockman Pages are a non-profit organization.
churning and churning
NMR and phenolic compounds
discourse on hegemony
"If one more frosh complains to me about how much work they have, I'll fuckin' kill 'em"
always running, running
why won't you stop running?
oh, it's because you're on the cross country team
turkey sandwich, coke, milk
and crack, always crack
swaying in the wind
you are the sunshine, or at least a halogen lamp
He has shapely calves
And a house in Michigan.
He's no one's Bitch Boy.
Oh, how to list Jeff's many qualities?
They are so numerous and so quickly seen,
Whene'er he spouts his quotes of Lockman-ese
Or dons his coat of eco-friendly green.
His vast knowledge of chemicals is known
As well as his kind nature, never callous.
But yet methinks he surely stands alone
In representing the almighty phallus.
All week he runs to lab and then around
The track, the roads; wherever legs can go.
But Sunday afternoon he can be found
Playing Erasure on his radio show.
He helps his friends to hold on to their sanity.
He is a fine example of humanity!
Poet's Note on this Piece:
"I'm watching you Jeff... I can see you..."
Poet's Note on this Anthology:
"Yes, they're all dumb, so don't feel bad about leaving them off the page. I'll think of more later..."
A runner is Jeff, he must eat a lot
To longer maintain that muscle he's got
The food that he brought quite often looked bad
But Jeff, our man, he never was sad
Elaine's melba toast and my S-E-J*
Our efforts combined made Jeff's day O-K
Compile he did those nasty programs (accent on a in programs)
But all that he wanted were honey-sweet hams
*Snoby European Junk
Poet's notes on this piece:
"Now I am immortal!! Whah Ha Ha Haaaaaa!!!"
What claims have I to compensate?
What lucky love to find?
Oh.. companions to commiserate
The binding of the blind.
What the hell was I talking of?
A long word on the lure, love?
What of this Lockman fellow?
The beast and breath, of whom, do bellow.
I don't fucking know this guy.
Is there nothing you want to buy?