By the pricking of my thumb,
Something wicked this way comes.
A big nod to Will
I testify. Testified.
Everyone ,
Including me,
Believes truth will taste better salted.
Yet apathy prevails.
Francie Lynch Sep 25
The things I'd do to be with you
Would put me away for good;
So, here I wait in solitude,
No sun, no moon, no light.

I've dug deep to break out,
I've climbed walls in my sleep;
I've dealt and knelt,
Held my hands out
To supplicate for pardon.

But I'm a repeat offender,
A schmuck and poor pretender;
A pled lifer for loving you.
Francie Lynch Sep 21
We stood in a circle in the parlor,
Jim was chatting with his golfing crones;
Her body was there for the viewing,
But we were keen on his hole-in-one.

We gave him our proud approval,
We chorused, Jim, well-done!
Then Jim took his turn on the kneeler,
To ponder before her coffin.

We all know the cold humility,
That an ace needs a load full of luck;
Yet we're pleased to hear all his details,
From the ***** off the tee,
To the flag in the cup.

I waited for my turn behind Jim,
I overheard his solemn words:
... an eight iron... bounced once, then straight in...
Oh, and may you rest in peace too, Mrs. Hobin
RIP Mrs. Hobin. She was the mother of one of the lads in my foursome. Lived a long life, raised a great bunch of kids.
Francie Lynch Sep 18
Words That Rhyme With Trump

Lump:     as in ***** grabbing
****:    as in ***** grabbing
****:     as in his oversized ****
Plump:    as in his oversized ****
Frump:    as in his long red tie
Clump:    as in his vain comb-over
Grump:   as in his tweets: SAD SAD SAD
Chump:   as in the electorate
Slump:    as in his popularity
Stump:    as in understanding Unishid Sshtashs
Dump:    as in the Mid-terms

Mugwump: as in this word speaks for itself.
Francie Lynch Sep 18
Every living body has a digestive system
That ends with an *******.
The body politic is no exception.
Francie Lynch Sep 15
I've used them on my windows
To see the clear outside,
If I'd read the Op-eds,
I'd shudder shuttered and hide.

I've spread them 'neath my plates and cups,
My shelves all neat and tidy;
But the headlines made it clear to me
My glass is more half empty.

They had a place in the litter box
For **** to scratch and squat;
I laid them round my garden plants,
They made fine insect traps.
Rolled and twirled they'd start a fire,
I could fold them into hats.
They cleaned the grease from BBQs,
And they're safe to pick up glass.
Crumple them for packaging,
They work as school book covers;
Add water and some flour,
To shape papier mache lovers.
Fold seeds in them to germinate,
Then use them for compost;
There's many ways to employ
Your Times and local Post.

But I won't subscribe to Dailies
For the felling of our trees;
And yet I miss my papers,
And the ways they worked for me.
But when enthroned,
You'll hear me grouse,
There's no **** paper in this ****-house.

My cell works well to scroll and swipe,
But it's only good for a virtual wipe.
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