You, my dear, are a ****
You flaunt the fact that
You flout the rules
That other people live by.

You smoke and drink and swear blue air
Truck drivers learn new words from you.
The ones who are not boffing you
Are writing your name on men’s room walls.

You, my dear, are a *****
Society’s precepts mean nothing to you.
A wedding ring is but a challenge;
Another notch on your bedstead.

You pose and you preen
And you bat your eyelashes
But on a coming day not too far away
You’ll finally get your comeuppance.
           ljm

I looked up “demagogue” in my Websters
And there a previous President was
In a smiling photo with fists in the air
Worried the wind would mess up his hair.
I didn’t bother to study the words -
The picture was worth several thousand.
ljm

While walking in the woods one day
A Grizzly Bear came upon a grisly scene.
A Cougar had killed a Lumberjack
And was munching on his carcass.
The bear decided to join in, but soon
Opined the meat was far too gristly
So he deemed it grist for the Cougar
And he slowly walked away.
ljm

I tried to think of someone I could venerate.
I listed all the names my mind could generate.

I thought about war heroes from the Middle East.
They should be listed near the very top at least.

I thought about the doctors and the Nurses.
They deserve our praise in many verses.

The First Responders all deserve applause
Their service never ever takes a pause.

Though there are many people I could laud,
The only one I venerate is God.
ljm

I love you.
I really do.
Honestly and cross my heart.
You’re my sweetie sugar Baby.
And I’m thrilled to be with you.
I don’t care about your money,
I’m just glad you have a lot.
It means we can do special things
And eat in fancy places
And you will know much I love you.
It means that we can travel
To exotic destinations
And I can show you how
I never notice other young men,
And how faithful I will always be.

I love you so much, Pookie Pie,
I really, really, truly do.
You mean everything to me
I don’t care about your mansion
It’s just a place to hang the
Couture clothing that you’ll buy me.
I won’t even see the maid
And the Gorgeous Spanish pool boy.
My eyes will only be on you
Especially as you buy the jewels
I didn’t have to ask for.
I hear the rumors and the whispers
About why we are together;
But I say poo-poo to them
You’re my sugar boo-boo-baby.
As long as you are happy spending,
You will know that I love you.
               ljm

A paucity of creativity
Brings on a lack of productivity
Which causes incivility
That leads me to mendacity.
ljm

My insinuation was the
Fabrication of an
Erroneous derivation
Lacking any Perspicacion
                 ljm

I was given Carte Blanche
To fail spectacularly
At unlimited endeavors
And I utilized that perquisite
With determined concentration
To the maximum that it allowed.
I’m waiting for my banquet.
And the silver plate award.
              ljm

I was given Carte Blanche
To fail spectacularly
At unlimited endeavors
And I utilized that perquisite
With determined concentration
To the maximum that it allowed.
I’m waiting for my banquet.
And the silver plate award.
ljm

Reading ten incisive and astute poems in a row
I look around to see if I can join in that parade.
I wear my 20-20 glasses in order to observe
The indelible accomplishments around me;
But all I see is Major Quincy Bilbo Hum
Always followed close behind by
Gunny Sargent Aloysius Drum.
The recruitment center seems to be shut down
So I’ll just write a letter to my mom instead.
    ljm

Some poets write in captious verse
With  meanings hidden and often terse
Making readers want to curse
Through lips that they in anger purse
With thoughts of mayhem that they nurse
Of poets carried in a hearse
To fates that go from bad to worse
       ljm

Mystic lake, nestled in the kind of scenery
Landscape painters drive many miles to find.
Water. so clear you can see
Almost to creation and the rocks
A hundred feet below.
Cold but never frozen,
It’s water is the color of a Summer sky
Because it is so pure.

Recreation Paradise straddling two states-
Boating, hiking, swimming…
And on one side there’s gambling
Where you can exercise your fortune
With the spinning of a set of wheels
Or the rolling of the dice.
Such popularity has brought
A shadow to the pristine shoreline.

Development and overuse
Are sullying the waters
Once a vivid cerulean,
But now a dimmer version of the color
With a mistiness as depths increase.
Is it too late to stop the damage
Can people yet be made to care
And turn around the gradual fading
Of one if God’s most premier jewels
ljm

I’m famous for procrastination;
I put things off til almost too late
And then I rush to get things done.

Well I’ve really done it this time.
The Church bake sale is tomorrow
I’ve promised them eleven cakes.

I’m famous for my Yum-yum cakes,
Rich with fruit and coconut.
They sell like hot dogs at a fair.

The ingredients are all lined up -
They only lack the blending
But my mixer just froze up and died.

So now I’m really in a mess
No time to go and get repairs
I’ll have to do it all by hand
And I will go stir-crazy.
ljm

My lipstick suddenly lost it’s gloss.
The sheen melted and dripped down my chin.
What was left was neither shiny or becoming
And I said - “no way - not having this - no way.”

So I stomped back to the make-up counter
And registered a vociferous complaint.
The cosmetic clerk attempted to regale me
With some convoluted hugga-mugga
About a glitch in the production line,
Attempting to gloss over the fiasco.

Now I really wasn’t having that,
So I put on a double thick
Lip coating of that diabolical
Oh-so-shiny red lip rouge
And kissed her clear glass counter top
A couple more than fifteen times.
So she will have to clean the gloss off
And maybe next time tell the truth.
ljm

I’ve always overtly admired
The poems I don’t understand;
The ones that others rave about
And praise with honors and awards.

The ones that seem to me to be
Random strings of fancy words
That don’t create cohesive thought
And leave me searching for a meaning.

I wondered if it all was real
Or some arcane bamboozle
And I was the yokel suckered in
By the Emperor’s new tuxedo.

Deciding I would test it out
I scribbled nonsense on a page
And posted it for all to see-
It was such fun I did it twice

To see if I’d be recognized
And called out for my shammery
And taken to the woodpile,
But  just the opposite occurred.

The plaudits soon came pouring in -
My ‘talent’ newly recognized.
My bamboozle fooled them all
I laughed, but then I had to cry.
ljm

Having finally climbed the ziggurat
Known as Bank of America
Customer’s-Non-Service
I was able to order checks.

Not the ones I wanted - oh no -
Somehow ‘they’ wouldn’t let me.
‘They’ being a recorded voice
That said I’m allowed four digits.

But my checks always need five
You cannot order those online -
You somehow have to phone it in.
So, resigned to this, I called.

After clicking one through five
Another robot lady’s voice
Then told me I can order those
By only going back on line.

I tried this several different ways.
It always ended up the same.
No matter which I tried they told me
I had to use the other way.

At painful length I gave it up
And ordered checks with just four numbers,
Starting at quadruple seven
So I can tell them from the rest.

Yesterday my order came
I opened it and felt despair
The checks were not the size I’m used to
And useless to me in my work.

2
Back to the phone’s robotic voice
To stumble on a lucky click
And get Patricia on the line -
A person who could help me out.

Telling her my tale of sorrow,
She promised to replace the checks
With ones in the requested size.
Then as a bonus offered me

Checks that count up in five digits,
Starting where my last ones stopped.
Oh Hosannah in the Highest -
Patricia’s now my Patron Saint.

Banking is a trial by fire
Though they shout convenient
All they’ve done is make it harder
With the loss of human contact.
ljm

When I was young,
A reckless car
Careened into
A lampost.
No one was hurt-
They were just drunk.
My father
worked at his career
As  a dentist.
A sober family man,
He never went
Careering into
Any kind of post.
Somehow in the
Ensuing years
Those different words
Got married and
Combined their meaning;
Putting occupations
In the closet to
Be brought out
Occasionally, as needed.
ljm

Pompous men with secret aims
Gather in the shadows
Hoping to create some sort
Of Panacea for the masses.

One that won’t serve to curtail
Their journey on the gravy train
That stops in oh-so-many-places
To take on endless loads of moolah

All too often soaked in blood
From someone else’s children.
Trying hard to find a salve
For wounds that never heal.

Hoping to placate the mass
That thunders at the door
For just a hint of common sense
And a tiny touch of honor.

The recipe is hard to find
There’s always re-election
Pointing up the need
That overshadows all concerns.

So generate some platitudes
Write rules to be ignored.
Write laws that will not be enforced
Then pat each other on the back
And head back to the shadows.
              ljm

Committees never get things right
Egads they’re thick as planks.
They need my input every night
And seldom give me thanks.

They tell me I’m a gadfly
And I should go away,
But even if I have to shout
I’m going to have my say.

You cannot swat me like a fly
Or swish your horsey tail.
I’ll crash your meeting every night
Until I’m locked in jail.
      ljm

TractabilIty has led me to disbelieve most everything
I’ve ever learned and caused me then to set foot on
A road that will surely lead me nowhere.
I listened to the honeyed words and ate the candied lies.
I turned my back on what was genuine and real
And chased a paper moon across a tinfoil sky.
They told me they were helping me to find  out
Who I am and what I really should believe.
They said that they could fix the world
If I can only help them.
I heard a small bell ringing In a corner of my mind
But they assured me it was nothing real and
Only an illusion.  And I gave in and followed them.
They told me who to vote for and all the reasons why.
The tiny bell became a klaxon, but I tuned it out
And walked their walk and talked their talk
And marked my card the way they said
And dropped it in the ballot box.
Along with my IQ and common sense
And my opinion is intractable today.
ljm

An honest and fair election loss will surely cause the red-hatted people of the USA to foment violence on the non-red-hatted people and the institutions they serve and believe in.

A dishonest and unfair election win will foment the end of constitutional democracy as the non-red-hatted people know it.  The pitchfork and banner market will experience sudden growth.
   ljm

I moved into a home more spacious
   For it was far more efficacious
To the plan that I was hatching
    For the swain who needed catching.
I planned a fete extraordinary
   With decor far from ordinary
Music, food, debauchery
   And maybe even lechery
In hopes the beau I find delicious
   Grants me all my carnal wishes
              ljm

Hello Poetry is the loadstone of my daily life.
It draws me to the keyboard when my duties tell me no.
It satisfies my childish need for approval of my thoughts
Even though I recognize the ephemerality of that.
I’m happy with it just the way it is, thank you.
ljm

Announcement:

Next Tuesday we will  begin a 19 day
driving trip.  It will start with a 5-day
Laurel and Hardy Convention in
Sacramento, CA and go next to my home
town of Longview, Washington, where
there will be a big annual Jubilee on the
4th of July.  It’s called “Go Fourth” and
it's famous over the Pacific Northwest.
I’ll visit my rogue brother who still lives
there, and later move on to my water
totem, Long Beach - the longest sand
beach in the world and blessedly un-
modernized and citified. From there
we drive to Seattle to get rained on
and visit my sister. Then the long drive
home enjoying everything there is to see
in Oregon, Idaho, Utah and Nevada. I
don’t have a laptop, or e-mail on my
phone so I’ll be out of touch and
relishing it.  But I will be back on 7/14.
I’ll miss you all. Don’t go away.
                                       LJM

It is my most sincere and humble wish

That my absence for 3 weeks will not

generate a large Hue and Cry among

Those who cannot exist without my

Daily words of Wisdom and Sagacity

On this site that has become refuge

To so many of us wayward souls.
                                               LJM

My need to pack a bag or two for an exciting trip 
supercedes the urge to spend this hour writing
doggerel in hopes someone will think I am a poet

I’m taking more than I will need. I do it every time
And bring back brand new clothes still neatly folded
Having never left the suitcase or tried on at all.

My poetry is over packed more often than I’d like.
The need to make my feelings clear approaches
Supercedence over litereary form and rhyming.

and the chorus:

A pair of jeans and 4 tee-shsirts is really all I need.
I wondere why I bring so much - it puzzles me indeed.
I wonder also why I write long verses you must read.

I’ll try to cut the wardrobe down, take just one duffle bag.
I’ll try to use far fewer words to raise my poet’s flag
If this should work out either way, I’ll be the one to brag.
ljm

Circumsance newly provides us
With a lissom visage of hope -
A sturdy twig to hold onto when
The hurricane begins its howl.
     ljm

Will the fealty of the masses
who have blindy followed a
Judas Ram into the perdition
we now face be shifted slightly
off target by the clarion call
issuing from the Good Shepherd
in search of her lost lambs.
ljm

Forty eight years of faithful service
Crumpled like a Kleenex and tossed away
By evil people with only ten names between them;
Forcing me to pack up all my grief and anger
And replat a blazing desert to make it be my home,

Far from where I’d ever want to be while
Deprived of what I’ve always loved to do
And surrounded by the things I do not like.
I had to replat the sand dunes of my very soul
To find a little valley where I hope to heal my hurt.
                            ljm

Our ship of state is being piloted by
A captain with no sea legs
and no navigational skill.
Hence the endless yaw
That leaves the passengers
Turning green and huddled
Over the **** deck rails.
ljm

My great job had me in my heyday
The virus then cancelled my pay day
Now I’m sending out a grim Mayday
I can’t bear another away day.
ljm

I ran into my British friend the other day and asked
what he and his wife had been doing lately.  
He replied “meander went to the cinema last night.”
ljm

I’ve been nominated for
Sisyphean Of The Week
I had to work hard to get it
And it will be harder still to win it -
There’s a lot of competition.
It’ll be an uphill battle for sure
But I do believe that faith
Can still move every mountain
And this is just a little stone.
ljm

Cronyism rules the day
It guides the games
That you all play.
You think you’re having
Lots of fun,
But while you play
No work gets done.

The best jobs all
Go to your friends -
It forms a chain
That never ends.
But since you are
The weakest link,
The ship of state
Is bound to sink
ljm

If I live long enough, my goal
Is to be the Doyen of Hello Poetry.
Not because I'm the best, though
I strive to earn that sobriquet too.
Not because I'm wise - Oh no-
Wise-guy is more like it;
But because I never ran away
Without a word
As so many others  have done.
                                       ljm

Common people called him stingy
And with his funds he was.
But he was parsimonious
In areas that they never saw.

                Epitaph
True, he never spent a dime
If he could get it free.
He never wasted any time
That anyone could see.

He didn’t have much love to give
And wanted no love back
He had a certain way to live
Laid out in white and black.

He didn’t give and didn’t take.
He had no use for friends.
He died alone and that’s the way
This kind of story ends
                      ljm

I’M THE MOTHER OF A ***** -TONK GIRL.  ANNA MARIE is out DRINKING TEQUILA and doin’ THE HILLBILLY WALTZ every night.  She’s turning into a total ***** and I’m HURTIN’ INSIDE.  I constantly tell her I LOVE YOU but it’s just as if MY LIPS ARE SEALED - She doesn’t hear me.  If HEARTACHE IS THE FASHION, I’m right in style.  It doesn’t do me a bit of good to ask WHAT WERE YOU DOING LAST NIGHT?  She won’t tell me because she was with MEXICAN JOE and I’d tell her HE’LL  HAVE TO GO. I’d like to ground her between her own FOUR WALLS and keep her HOME, but I’d just be BEATIN’ ON THE DING ****. I don’t understand why she can’t date that nice BILLY BAYOU.
She laughed when I asked her AM I  LOSING YOU, and said, Mom, you’re WAITIN’ FOR A TRAIN that’s never gonna come. So I’m left with just one question:  WHERE DOES A BROKEN HEART GO. I guess it’ll be a case of MOTHER WENT A-WALKING and maybe THEN I’LL STOP LOVING YOU and just climb aboard a slow boat to TAHITI because thats where I’D LIKE TO BE  until I can begin to feeL as though I’M BEGINNING TO FORGET YOU.

I’d be derelict in my duty
That I owe to humankind
If I didn’t help the homeless
By every method I can find

That man may be a derelict
A hobo and a ***
As he slumps there on the gutter
Reeking of cheap ***

His address was a derelict
Condemned to be torn down
They’ve turned him out onto the street
And told him to leave town

But he’s still a human being
And his needs aren’t being met
The city has abandoned him
As one more losing bet

I offer him my tool shed
As a quiet place to sleep
But he turns down my offer
Says the price is way too steep.

He’d have to come and go on time
And follow simple rules
He says he’s better on his own
Among the other fools

Who populate the ***** streets
On the poorer side of town
He shambles off to join his pals
Leaving me to stand and frown.
ljm

Made no longer risible
From a virus that’s invisible

Not allowed to travel
Our spirits now unravel

We can’t get excited
The country’s not united

A very clear selection
At the next election

One’s a crook with orange tan
And one’s an honest, decent man

History will clearly note
How carefully we cast our vote.
               ljm

In a life where malaise
Is the word of the hour and
Rules what the day will become,
I wander from this irritation
To that unknown grumble
And wonder why I feel so bad.
My need to keep going
Is fed by the longing
To see what’s ten years down the road.
         ljm

Doobie
Such beauty I’s beholden
The stuff of all muh dreams
So tightly rolled ‘n golden
Sealed firmly at the seams.

I’s never gonna share it
It’s mine ‘n mine alone
Not even one small tiny ****
You don’t be holdin’, so jus go home.
ljm

Whispers that morph into screeches
Disturb the strands that tenuously hold
The ragged edges of reality aloft
In storms of self recrimination and regret.

Slender stalks of rationality bend down
Beneath the weight of foolishness
Grown fat and heavy in indulgence
That is justified by cobwebs of desire.

The music in the background plays
On bagpipes and a penny-whistle band
While the conductor tries to turn them in
To violins and harpsichords, and fails.

A river jumps it’s muddy banks
And floods the playing field with muck
As strands and stalks give up their load
And it all falls to nothingness.
ljm

Lost and all alone in the shallows of the sea that is my soul
I find the water deepens with each step that I take forward.
Trying to remember if I ever learned to swim, I pause
And turn to look behind me at the raging flames, and hope
I have not somehow turned into Lot’s second wife.

Where there should be swirling sand beneath my feet
I find small pebbles that all roll and clatter with the tide
And make it difficult to stand and move ahead.
On the horizon, where the ocean meets the sky
The Sun is sliding down the waves and soon it will be dark.

There is no wind, and seagulls do not split the sky
With raucous cries and aerobatics.  It is silent
And the stillness becomes ominous and bleak.
I know that I should turn around, for danger lies ahead
But is it worse than the disaster that I just have left behind.

Standing in the rocky surf that is the landscape of my mind
I am uncertain for the first time in my long and pensive life.
I realize there is no going on or back the way I came.
Which leaves me only up and down and if I’m lucky, sideways.
I lift my foot to take a step, and hosts of watching angels weep.
ljm

God sent a sky that promised in crimson
Aflame with the rising of the Sun
Sailing a sea of apricot and indigo
That a boy child will be born this night.

Not in the storied Bethlehem stable
Not in a far land we'll likely never see
Not in a book passed down through the ages
But deep in the heart of all we believe.

Were it not for the glorious sunrise
The clouds flung across the sky
Would bode an oncoming storm
In the cold of the Winter weather.

But the light of the angels was glowing
And the darkness turned pinkey and orange
As it faded into a cloud haloed morning
While the world in all its Winter splendor
Waited to hear the angels sing.
                                  ljm