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David Nelson Nov 2013
Plunk your Magic Twanger

years ago when I was a tike
back when I could barely even ride my bike
there was this silly show I loved and had to see

on Saturday mornings just for kids
they showed short films and had funny skits
so weird it seemed they were just talking to me

films about this kid they called the Jungle Boy
he rode on an elephant and brought me great joy
always tracking down men doing evil things

then there was always this special guest
a doctor, a scientist, someone who impressed
who would try to demo and explain

their special skills but is was to no avail
along came the gremlin with water spritzer and pail
and on the poor speaker he would make it rain

he was called Froggy the Gremlin a puppet at best
he'd dance like a clown and stick out his chest
and he was always introduced with this silly chant

plunk your magic twanger froggy, oh my dear
and boing in a puff of smoke he would appear
and bedlam would ensue he'd go off in a rant

Hiya kids, Hiya, he'd always say as he danced
on the edge of my seat, I was so entranced
what kind of stunt would he now try to pull

squirt the guest with his seltzer bottle he was so bad
the guest would run away, run away so wet and mad
the gremlin always kept his bottle full

zany comedy, mindless laughter every week
couldn't wait to see who would be the next weeks geek
so innocent then so full of vigor and vim

there is another part to this story someday I will tell
later on in high school before the first morning's bell
Froggy is still alive, no cant forget him

Gomer LePoet...
based on a kids TV show from the days of my youth that were more simple
pixels Oct 2012
Step on the scale
"Three Digits!"
f a t

Shuffle back to Your Room
p r i s o n  c e l l

Drag yourself to the main desk
The Morning Medication line is long today
m i n d l e s s

Pretty pills fill your palm
They have changed colors today
They are all shapes, large and colorful
c y a n i d e


They dive into your empty stomach
Swim in acid and glide through your veins

Emotional Morphine-
You await the glorious numbness
s a n i t y

and still you crave the blade.

*b l o o d
Written on 9.24.2012, while in the psychiatric hospital.
PJ Poesy May 2016

King Khety is blinking madly
Haruspex has left him ominous oracle
Sinuhe is on his return, fugitive no more
Sinuhe brings with him enemy’s daughter
Not prize, Nefru his wife and Libyan lore
Sinuhe from slavery came, poet she did adore

Egyptian tombs do tell in detail
Hieroglyphic tales, this juncture of peril
Khety not King, but Sinuhe’s noble brother
Knows true King come to claim throne
Sinuhe the nobler, knows a life of none other
Than slave sold by Odious, the step-mother

Yes Queen Odious, deep in den of asps
Collected poison venom to undue her marriage
To Sinuhe’s father Merikare, Pharaoh of Moon
Odious’ ghastly act nearly tore Egypt in two
Her derangement sent Sinuhe far across sand dune
Odious took crown, added gilded teeth of baboon

Made her son King, though he did implore
Khety saw insanity and for what, he was in store
Khety remembers his Great Father’s words
“The heart of someone who listens to his temper
Is doomed to follow the stink of camel herds
Better to let heart fly upon sky, as do birds”

Yet by years tormented, Khety became undone
More like his mother and even more sniveling
Than the Odious one, so he did as he was told
Incessant dribbling marked a life for him
He minded his words lest he knew he’d be sold
Mother’s high priest Abhorus was bitter and cold

Sinuhe’s struggles were unknown to King Khety
Years of near starvation and wearisome labor
Made Sinuhe the better man, as he did never forget
Assurances of his noblest Father, Pharaoh Merikare
Virtue ascribed, Sinuhe kept valor in each trial met
Furthermore, his noblest task still to come as of yet

“Numidian Queen”

Nefru, Numidian Queen to Land of Libya
Recalls young slave Sinuhe’s hostility to captivity
His intelligence overcoming, who once would be King
Of Egypt had not violent arm but ferocious mind
Using wit to overcome adversity and words he did sing
To free his self of internment and all oddity it did bring

Nefru looks upon loyal husband Sinuhe
It is an arduous journey this man has taken
Her commitment be bound now by ivory ring
Loyalty to this man before all forsaken
It is spring, and amongst abundant life come dead things
Fledgling birds first flight failed or so siblings did fling

Now swept into his pilgrimage, Nefru perceives
All adversity Sinuhe did overcome so nobly
To her, he is chukar, partridge of rare plumage
It is to the ground, which this bird be bound
Never reaching sky, low brush be its’ *******
Though its’ song give to her heart an anlage

Freedom from slavery, is Sinuhe’s triumph
Vindication of crown be the mark of new flight
He prays to Horus Behudety, Winged Sun God
Nefru knows of her husband’s will and might
She gifts to him her father’s pinioned golden rod
Scepter of enslaver Mehru, and his feathered shod

It was not of great agreement by Mehru
Should his daughter Nefru marry a slave?
Much less to son of Merikare, an arch enemy
Yet he be so brave, impressions of Sinuhe’s strength
Be made so to change, very nature Sinuhe’s destiny
So much so, Mehru did lament in Merikare’s elegy

So it came to be, a slave marries Queen
Sinuhe and Nefru’s love broke all patterns
Such a love to win hearts of, Gods and Goddess’ unseen
Who rule other worlds and all rings of Saturn
History had never known affection so purely clean
Gatherings from far off fields came to witness such glean

“Haruspex And Detritus”

Haruspex, soothsayer speaks in half-truths
King Khety believes only small contingent
Be on way to Byblos, presently approaching Qedem
Little does he know, armies of Elephant in tow
Masses of feathered and golden archer’s stem
Blessed by breath of Bat, Goddess and her phlegm

Detritus, Animal Man, hired scout to King Khety
Possesses claws and hair of lion, his home Serengeti
Animal Man’s mane is thrashed in thorns and rubble
Smells of cat ***** but has nose that knows much
Such why Detritus be tolerated, though be much trouble
Haruspex twists tale of tailed man, speaks of him double

Calls him lazy, shiftless, yet Haruspex be cryptic mess
Detritus be banal yes, but true to Khety none the less
Knew his father well, Merikare be his master
It was always Queen Odious, Detritus distrusted
Knowing her demonic betrayal and Egypt’s disaster
She kept him in gypsum cave, scratching alabaster

Kindness had left this Kingdom sometime ago
When Odious and Abhorus overthrew rule
Merikare Moon Pharaoh mummy cry from tomb
Sinuhe ripped from his side by Abhorus
His funeral a very mockery and Detritus’ doom
Haruspex made way from Libya, eyes mucous rheum

Planted by Mehru, Haruspex be sent through desert
King of Libya be wise, sent this oracle as disguise
Not soothsayer at all but spy of opposition
King Mehru knew upon Moon Pharaoh’s death
Peace upon land would not soon come to position
Quickly he sent Haruspex, strangest magician

Detritus knew by the first smell of him
Haruspex came from earth west, not with best
Intentions to natural order of land and sky
And this test of two egos be quite perplexed
With each other and another reason why
This brawny epic riled through years gone by

“Ode ‘O’ Odious”

Motioning her battalions, priests and beasts
Evil Queen who overthrow, joins Abhorus’ feast
Beldams be this clergy, **** all about Odious
Snapping of rabbits heads in cacophony of blood
Plunking chalices of malice’s, sacrifices melodious
All in dark chamber halls in depth’s commodious

Stretching of intestine to fine tune harp
Butchers waylay innards with daggers sharp
Mawkish music be Odious’ fame
Concavity’s entrance a perilous scarp
Passers-by enticed by bergamot oil’s flame
Fall to their death to be eaten by dame

Ode ‘O’ Odious, Ode ‘O’ Odious
Drunken mayhap through day and nightcap
She rumpus muck, she ruckus all luck
Ode ‘O’ Odious, Ode ‘O’ Odious
Chambers fill with all matter of bile guck
Bites cobra tails, hooded heads protrude to ****

Death be her power to innocence’s pain
Queen Odious oblivious to her own danger
Seems unstoppable to submissive subjugates
Spinning her terror, cackle calls to maidens
Fem ferocious, how ‘O’ Odious undulates
Casualties collected in long hundredweights

Probity of her high priest be none
Abhorus puppets Odious and will be done
With her second rare blue water lilies run out
The Nile produces this flower of intoxication
Extinction of it is of all certainty, no doubt
Named after her, O Odious flora beguiles lout

Ode ‘O’ Odious, Ode ‘O’ Odious
It is Evil Sorceress and midnight blue flower
Power of it be all in her high flighty head
She misuses its’ tincture to her own final hour
Harvesting it foolishly, nearly till it is dead
And when it is, it will be to all worlds’ dread

“Oasis In Iaa”

Sinuhe receives word elephants parched
Water need be found, arduous trek campaigned
Nefru never witness such worry, Sinuhe’s face
Ox tail be split to drain nourishment from beasts
No water for miles, no sea birds upon sky to trace
Sinuhe prays, “Montu, God of War find oasis to race!”

Sekhmet, Archer Goddess visits Nefru
Great Lady is besieged by dessert’s spell
Hallucinations bring mirage to Nefru’s sight
Transfixed on dessert’s horizon her eyes
Contingents warriors, bands of archer’s fright
Paths set forth, only to journey by starlit night

At dawn Sinuhe strands his band
Takes his most devoted men of arms
Bhaktu, Parsi, Rhaktu, follow their Lord
Each having faith in man and his wisdom
Eastward they find Syrian tribe in horde
They are welcomed, none need draw sword

Master of Syrian tribe Abu Sefa
Understands who Sinuhe is and was
Orders falconers to find Nefru and throng
Apprises Sinuhe of oasis beyond hummocks
All are soon joined together in wine and song
Oasis found, Iaa, fruited land and lagoon long

Khety is warned of revelry in Iaa
Sends legions Egyptian arms, by order Odious
Anubis, jackal head God given zebra sacrifice
Detritus employed for battle with spears
Copper shields, mediocrity will not suffice
All swords be sharpened by order thrice

Lifeblood battle of Egypt ensues
Sinuhe taken off guard in Iaa,
Elephant screams to be heard for miles
Bhaktu cut down, Rhaktu not found
Parsi’s archers never saw such trials
From lagoons come seething crocodiles

Twist Of Fate

Rensi was chosen by Abhorus to speak for Khety
As High Priest, Abhorus did most doling of employs
This proxy Rensi though, be mockery of King
His speech more stammered than Khety’s noise
Grossly disfigured as well, soundings as mice sing
Rensi aware of this, musters all dignity he may bring

Perigee moon at present, o howling now
Hyena laughing at dissertation of Khety’s proxy
Ill ease overcomes this Rensi, an impediment
Speech undone on terrestrial stairs to Memphis
Escalades flora, fauna; monsoons washing sediment
Tefnut, great rain goddess turns world to excrement

This not so illustrious disquisition muted
By torrent winds and torrential liquid compounds
Tefnut’s tears plunk upon all, turning mud blood
Looking out from his great house Khety embroiled
Bares soul to Sobek-Re, Crocodile God; Sun and Crud
Sobek-Re answers prayer, suspending flash flood

In Iaa, as gore of battle ensues, fate lose
As twist of tale find new bemuse and worlds infuse
Detritus sees his lost master Sinuhe encroaching peril
This recognition swells an emotion deep and confuse
Detritus bent in memories flash reacts nobly not feral
With a roar to be heard over all, clamor become sterile

Sounds of battle cease and gaze of majesty
Sinuhe seeing Detritus is overcome by sensibility
Two old beloved friends stare upon each other
Dragging swords behind each move to indemnity
Embrace of each other; secures allegiance another
Sinuhe kisses feet of Detritus; calls him “brother”

As witness to such, all weary legions unite
Moon turn blue, assured sign of Pharaoh Merikare
Mehru’s star battalions federate Moon Pharaoh’s armies
Together as one to Memphis they shall siege Khety
Overthrow Queen Odious and her sinister parties
This mainly being High Priest Abhorus’ autocracies

Epitaph Of Detritus

Odious in lair drinks tinctures blue water lilies
Abhorus her advisor suggests only more intoxicants
Khety is shrilling at sight of this deceptive lure
Haruspex makes prophesy of Detritus’ betrayal
Khety sends hunters to trace Animal Man’s spoor
Abhorus finds more legions of archers to procure

Leaving Iaa and moving toward Memphis
Detritus is fitted by Nefru’s maidens new armor
Embroidered with gold, a striped khat is made to adorn
Detritus is humbled by Sinuhe and Nefru’s gifts
His body is perfumed and oiled; his mane then shorn
Beholden to the true King of Egypt, Detritus is sworn

Two men of different lands, both once slaves
Overcome their adversities and rise upon sun
Sinuhe and Detritus’ bond is legitimately noble
Wearing of these worlds bare them new providence
Seemingly this union appears fortuitous global
Keeping steadfast of Abhorus’s archers now mobile

In Sakkara, south of Memphis come tempest
Raining arrows as if raindrops, Sinuhe’s challenge
Detritus’ valor finds reckoning to his last will
Defending Sinuhe, Detritus falls to cumulating
By strength this virtue witnessed, Sinuhe rise still
Throwing down legions of archers, making his ****

Abhorus, Odious, and Khety with no troops left
Surrender to Sinuhe upon his return to Memphis
Odious drinks last vials blue lily tincture, expires
Abhorus struck dead by hand of Khety in resolve
Khety bows to Sinuhe and his Queen as requires
King Sinuhe , Queen Nefru read parchments and fliers

In honor of great Detritus and his noble deeds
Commissioned is greatest sculpture Animal Man
During its’ long construction, most joyful jinks
Song and dance to honor a great warrior true
Each artisan so proud to have heritage to links
Of Animal Man, Detritus, now known as Sphinx
This is my adaptation of The Tale Of Sinuhe. It is the oldest known work of Egyptian literature. This epic poem was written by me with the intent of creating a puppet opera. I hope to collaborate with other poets, musicians, artists and puppeteers to see this come to life. Between each chorus should be arias which embellish the plot and theme. If you may be interested in working on this piece, please let me know via private message. I hope to make it a collaborative work.
Danielle  Apr 2018
The Sea
Danielle Apr 2018
Half remembered clichés dance along the pier.
The divide between,
Sweet salty land and unending depths.
My talking dolphins sing a tune,
Unsettling and threatening.
Feed scraps from the dinner table
by my curly haired gambler.
I only see him at that old dollhouse,
Cracked and weathered by the Sea.
It insists on knocking on our red door
and staying for supper.
So it can beat us at throwing pennies in a cup
Had a dream and it made me really happy so I wrote a poem about it. It was a pretty weird dream truth be told.
Mike West Dec 2012
This morning I had to go ***** so bad
I squeezed and I pushed with all that I had
And after what seemed like a great battle
I heard a ker-plunk from what I did straddle
The mighty splash that this thing made
To have a look, my curiosity bade
So up I did rise slowly and sure
So as not to drop any poo onto the floor
I looked into the bowl not believing my eyes
This terd was of a most bodacious size
The cause of the strain was now easy to see
I new then not what I had set free
It leaned upright on the side of the bowl
Like it was in a jacuzi relaxed and whole
As I looked at it again in utter disbelief
I knew I had to flush away my relief
But when I pushed the handle on the toilet I found
All the **** did is spin round and round
Like a wooden stick in water being stirred
I was amazed at the stiffness of this ****
When the flush was done I looked with disdain
The **** was still there and left not even a stain
I flushed again with greater resolve
And the **** broke in half as it did revolve
But then as it started to finally go down
Something then happened that made me frown
It got stuck and clogged up the hole
I watched in horror as water filled the bowl
It plugged the toiled up tight like a cork
And now I wished I'd chopped it up with a fork
I grabbed the plunger from off of the floor
And plunged real hard, for my toiled to restore
But though I plunged with all of my might
It seemed that the **** was winning this fight
After several minutes the water went down
But only at a trickle as again I did frown
So along I did move from plan A to plan B
I'd show this **** who's the boss, not it, but me
So with hot water, a bucket I did fill
And dumped it in so it could swallow that pill
After twenty buckets, the **** did give way
And I was able to flush. Hip-Hip-Hooray!
Mikaila Jun 2014
I never want to be second best to a man because I am not one ever again. It BOTHERS me. It keeps me up nights. It's... humiliating. It stokes a rage in me that I don't like- it's ugly, and hot, and pressurized, and it never seems to lessen, only grow. I am so good at being silent, at being nice, at being a good sport. But I've been getting worse at it for years. As I've begun to realize just how much I've lost to men because they think they're better than me, because everyone thinks they're better than me, because sometimes I even think they must be better than me. I've started to lose my grip on that quiet, humble girl who doesn't fight for what she loses. I sit up at 1:30 in the morning and sometimes I can't stop stewing over the fact that some men think they can unclothe me with their eyes and I'll secretly like it, that everyone on the ****** earth assumes that I will want a man, marry a man, that I'm LOOKING constantly for a ******* MAN. Is that what straight girls do? I didn't think so... But as I look around, really look, the world makes it seem as though every ******* thing is centered upon finding and keeping a man. And I don't want one. And I resent having to explain that day in and day out to everybody I ever meet, and even to people who have known me for years and KNOW how I feel about the subject. And no, nothing set this off- this is how it is all the time. I am just disgusted sometimes, that if I don't shout constantly (obnoxiously) people will slide me into my designated spot in the world- a white picket fence with a hubby and 2.5 kids and a small adhd medication habit- and I will be LOST to that. Obliterated by what is expected of me. I'm not doing it. I will never do it. I don't want a man. I don't want to BE a man. I don't want to marry a man. Honestly, on days when I truly allow myself to think about this subject in depth, I don't even want to LOOK at a ******* man. I don't want to know that because my hair is long and my waist happens to be 20 inches, men find me attractive. That my long eyelashes and high heels make it oh-so-hard-to-believe I'm not straight, and that much more disappointing if, in fact, they ever do believe me on the subject. I don't want to look up by accident and see a guy leering at my ***. I don't want my sarcastic remarks taken as flirting. I don't want to ever hear the phrase "You're too pretty to be a lesbian." again. I'm not gay because I'm angry at men. I'm angry at men because I'm a woman. Being gay happens to slide the binary into focus even more. Masculinity is valued. Femininity is insulting. There are classes on it. And I understand that not all men are *******, but honestly... all men take from me. They do. I'm sorry if that offends you, or if that makes it hard to view the world the way you do, but hey, it offends me. Offense is not an order of change. It's how you feel. And I am deeply offended that men win over me. I'm offended that it's a contest, and I'm offended that I am ill equipped to compete. I'm offended that women seem to see having a boyfriend as an achievement, as something you earn and flaunt and show off to other girls and boast of, when I was hardly able to hold hands with the girl I loved in high school, in fear that her family would find out. I'm offended that she couldn't be proud to be with me the way she'd be proud to bring a boy home and plunk him down at the dinner table on Thanksgiving- "Look, Ma, I got one!" I will always be offended. I don't expect anything to be done about it. But I do sit up nights and think about it. I do. It bothers me that men are worth more than I am- and for what? What are they really that I am not? The answer is very simple and utterly infuriating in its pointlessness: They are men.
This would be the rant that ended up on facebook this morning... And this would be the comment I left below it:
(I swear to god, do NOT comment on here and try to begin a debate about individuals and how men are all different people and blanket statements are unfair and- no. I happen to have a brain. I do know this. I'm talking big picture, large scale, the gender that rules the earth and has since the dawn of time, and the things I've lost because of the culture that has grown out of that. And so help me, if you try to start an argument about how I'm actually the one victimizing people, I will lose my mind. It is my right to be offended, and if you are offended by my offense, that is your right. And we both have our lovely emotional rights, and we needn't talk about it. Okay? Okay.)
Mark Wanless  Aug 2016
Mark Wanless Aug 2016
the glassy grasshoppers shatter
when bitten       with straight white teeth
chilled yellow peach pulp       a glacier
low blond table wood       biting silk liquid
fresh hyacinth       jasmine
music       plunk on plunk
pearl skin       soft cloud
rose petal       lips
Rose DiMatteo Jan 2010
to spark the story funny cards are best
that reindeer's bushy ******* and his backward grin
makes each of us a burly teamster Santa  
but best of all, the irony of ***-end-joy
makes this the perfect millennial American Greeting
                to plunk down the Wal-Mart buck-fifty for

alas, the real juice of narrative's left at the store
the all-night mind spins out its setting
action arch of dialogue to dénouement
then lost in the well-stocked silence of stuff

somewhere in those reels, maybe a better person
crafts hearts breaking open to a generous life
and emerges from those screenings joyful—
grateful for the chance to evolve from the self-serving
                multitude of errors sporting masks
posts gentle merry wishes and even ribald humor
                to that impossible God-blessed everyone
Scott Chase  Jul 2018
Scott Chase Jul 2018
The blind man slowly rises to his feet. Bending over and momentarily fumbling for his walking stick.Finding it propped against the flat topped boulder he uses as both a table top and chair. He takes the usual 27 steps to the mouth of the cave.Just before reaching the opening, he feels the slight breeze freshening his cheeks while gently tossing his beard about. As if nature were trying to comb his his coarse and weathered ****** hair.
At 28 steps, the sun greets his skin with an early morning warmth. A faint touch of dew washes through his nostrils, reminding him of the brief rain shower that woke him just before the break of day. Justifying the stiffness in his joints. Yes, best to sit a spell and allow the sun to warm the marrow. Perhaps keeping his movements spry and youthful for an hour or two. Carefully measured to a bit arduous after that.
Now, the morning unfolds before and below him in the high mountain meadow that provides him most of his meager needs. The stream to his left, babbling it's way across the rocks and tickling his ears. Then, rushing outward and downward, diagonally across the meadow. Slowing on the far right side before narrowing and winding it's way into the hardwoods. His memory still strong, long after his sight left him those..... how many years ago now?
The cry of an eagle pierces his ears. No doubt a rodent or rabbit is in peril shortly. Not a fish he ponders. Just across the stream,not too far, maybe forty to fifty feet, the sudden scraping of hooves against the small pebbled bottom of the stream. Preceded by the hollow plunk of the nervous steps of a fawn as she slowly lowers her head to quench her thirst before bedding down for the day. Doe is nearby watching her, listening intently for signs of danger to her young one. Yes,there it is, a rushed deep and anxious breath tells him so.
The old man ambles back into the cave to fetch his hat.

Now, tell me...Did you see what the blind man saw?
spysgrandson  Oct 2011
Old Lyrics
spysgrandson Oct 2011
(Old Lyrics referring to those heard from "vinyl" albums of the 1960s)

from dusty cardboard covers
and winged time that flew by
oh poetic ponderous parchment
you have become my sacrament
my sense and soul, my mind’s eye

my grandchild cries in the background
faux fighting to stay awake
while I sit in monitored light
distracted by her playful plight
penning lines for others to partake

some have scripture and prayer
to make their journey into the divine
I plunk rhapsodic rhyme on an electric page
inspired by what I read in a golden age
now seen by me in tragic decline

so I whisper words of the mystical muse
and let them be my guiding light
and weave me through this tangled dream
like some moonbeam on a trickling stream
flowing into my deepening night

— The End —