Divine Spirit of Grace & Love _ new poetry November 2025

Divine Spirit of Grace & Love  

Celestial powers in the sky 

Counting molecules; nuclei; atoms;

Air particles; protons, neutrons; electrons 

Light; energy; radio waves; vibrations

The fruit of Thy Womb; Jesus 

Prophets; pharos; poets; astronomers 

Studying & recording planetary movements 

They all comprehended the Holy Mother 

Christmas Day

New Year's Day

But they didn't predict Easter 

Yet we have Easter Sunday 

And we hold a daily mass 

We say prayers to You

We sing songs of Love

Praising Heaven Above 

Thank You Jesus 

Thank You Lord 

November 29, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

St. Peter’s Gate _ new poetry November 2025

St. Peter's Gate 

Now i may 

Be old fashioned 

By not using his name 

But he negotiated 

With the devil 

And borrowed his fame 

Nothing but evil 

And greed is the game 

Yet he gotta pay it back 

It's Sunday and every Sunday 

It's just the facts 

If he really wants heaven 

You want to get in

Go get on your knees 

And confess to Jesus 

All your hideous sins.

If he really wants heaven 

Well. Hey. Start with Mass.

Then show an ounce of class

He disgraced the human race 

Stop being an example of trash

By the way try not to be late 

Don't make judgement wait 

"Sisamnes can't make your case,"

The devil patiently states.

Ultimately there's no debate 

Gazing from below at St. Pete's Gate 

November 23, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Cathedral of Learning _ new poetry November 2025

Cathedral of Learning

Well i only have one friend 

His name is Mike 

Ok well two I like 

You too (two S. & G.) I likes

And to me they're both so nice

Higher learning with coal dust

Oh, man, they're women i lust 

Custom tour buses, no fussing 

It's about soil turning

Writing what you're yearning 

It's about university learning 

Mr. Tattoo has no Voodoo 

He / She is a poser post 

Oh my, where's your Holy Ghost 

It's Saturday and November sunny

Sunday with Saturday shoes she's funny

The petty president only wants money

And now your MG Red Kit Car is f*cked 

No Longer running on orange Kool Aide

It requires Tiger's Blood from the grave 

So prostrate to the magistrate, good luck

250 years ago writing an explosive prose 

And how we got a loser everybody knows 

But, hey, yeah, man, we're all super white 

Until a bulldozer clears up over developed blight 

So Saturday morning Sarah I drove to the city 

Fox News was saying it was a burnt out kitty

Their propaganda whores we learn to ignore

At Caliban Rare Book Store I opened the door 

To the store clerk I did quote:

"Why does a pebble sink but a log floats?"

Ah Ma, yearning at your Cathedral of Learning 

November 22, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Hammer Wind (in the Heartland) _ new poetry November 2025

Hammer Wind (in the Heartland)

She got an illegal cough

She said it was bought

At some big box

A store that got cost

Never takes a loss

Honey, how come you moo?

moo. moo. at dawn

when the milkman comes around

Rooster calling

repeating quotations

drawing situations 

Light candles the pawn holds

An agenda driven grudge

She's the president's judge

Winking a crumbling promise

"Case dismissed. Case dismissed."

Don't believe the worm baited fear

Rally bullhorn whispering in your ear

From:

The 'only I can do it" lodge

Like a bowling pin to be dodged 

Move along and don't look too long

Out of the woods is a bald friar 

See through propaganda and liars

Reject the false tone in Satan's Choir 

"Put your head into my dark dream"

Pay your taxes for the rusted guillotine 

She has some great big gall 

with roller-skates in the carpeted hall

Sleeping through a phone call

Projected on a penthouse wall

Innocence is a Monarch Butterfly

Resting in Central Mexico from ice & fire

Laughing at American dollars spent to travel

How did we get here? Let's unravel

The wind growls outside like a hammer

For real freedom traded they now clamor 

250 years later he alone strangled her

The Declaration couldn't be any whiter 

Invisible ink makes the blank page cleaner 

November 20 - 21, 2025

John Alan Conte` Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Turkeys on a Forklift _ new poetry November 2025

Turkeys on a Forklift

with a head full 

of ideas and mouthful

full of Twix

ask her a question

all she does is bitch!

"A bologna sandwich 

or turkey & ham

which one is which?"

she shuts up like a clam

From inside a muddy ditch

the tire salesmen kibitz 

"How many turkeys can fit

while you drive that forklift?"

Now she points with a tilt 

"Fifty"

The salesmen, "nifty."

It's the end of the shift

November 21, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Mirror on the Wall _ new poetry November 2025

Mirror on the Wall

with muted stares
better beware
of her affairs
she does speak
talking in her sleep
the pillow in disbelief

J. Conte` Jr.
November 21, 2025
MyStrawHat.com

Anonymous Ley Lines _ new poetry November 2025

Anonymous Ley Lines

We've never seen this kinda thing before
It's clearly apparent he's been cured!
Call the doctor. Call the priest.
Call the girl who massages his feet.
An artist took the darkness out of his heart
And took it straight to the sea to depart.
She told him to defy it
Passing ghosts of wrecked ships
The sea floor at ungodly depths
Underwater volcanoes erupt
She brings him a bioluminescent fish
Kiss this and make a good wish
He smiles at her with laughter.
It's the present that matters.
Sand on the shell of Sam the Clam
He donated to the aquarium at the zoo
A record setter he found with his sister
It was in black & white in the newspaper
The bread truck pulled up along too
Loaded with bricks of green money
Blaring sonic Seattle Mud Honey
Simultaneously broadcasted in Morse Code
From NYC to Europe via Trans Atlantic Cable
The spectacled speaker speech is quite able
Causing the victims heads to literally unload
Speaker's glasses shrink as his nose grows
And a Potomac salamander shows a spine
Screaming the president he has no clothes
Standing straight up as her whistle blows.
Sand. Head. TV. Foreign airplanes. Red MG.

Written November 17 - 18, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

Drunk on Friday Night _ new poetry November 2025

Drunk on Friday Night 

Now I got off work 

About 5:05 

Was feeling lucky 

Making it out alive 

No time for passenger side 

Jumped in my pick up truck 

Thank God it wasn't stuck 

And aways away down town

Saw old LeeroyBrown 

He said he was bad all right 

Well there's no need to fight 

Fixin' to blur my eye sight 

Hey let's go get drunk 

Leeroy laid tools in his trunk 

Cranked up some 70's punk 

Hey hey 

Hey hey 

Yeah yeah 

Okay 

Drunk on Friday night 

This ain't no competition 

It's all about repetition 

Bartender a frosted mug

Red wine from a jug 

One after another we chug 

A waitress with her huge hug 

Leeroy Brown he feel in love 

A praying mantis isn't a bug 

He's more like a violin monk 

It's Friday night and he's drunk 

Playing games of Kerplunk 

With marbles and sticks 

He takes it out quick 

Hey who's that chick 

My ear she just flicked 

Wow she's out of sight

Wishing with all my might 

Drunk on Friday night 

Hey hey 

Hey hey 

Yeah yeah 

Okay 

Having so much fun 

Downing one by one 

She twisted his tongue

The master auctioneer 

Made him sound queer

Flirting with a lawn deer

Oh my goodness dear 

He claims he's John Deer

And he's worth a fortune 

Telling everyone in the room

He was on mushrooms

Doing Karaoke into a broom 

We'll be there again real soon 

Drunk on Friday night 

November 15, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone