"committee" poems
*****
I like ***** I like ****
before you touch, you must get permits.
Nothing like a nice pair of assets,
oh how puppies make nice pets.
Bazongas are ***** that are large,
strippers and hookers, will always charge.
Nothing like the perfect *****
but only on the perfect woman.
******* are yummy dark or white,
but first you must wait for an invite.
Some girls even have a third ******
do not squeeze says Mr. Whipple.
I don't mind girls on the itty, bitty, ***** committee,
on a carpenters dream, I show no pity.
They could be called a bust, some call them cans,
a woman's squeeze box, all men are fans.
Chesticles is a term I have never heard,
but everyday, I learn a new word.
I like cones, I like jugs,
girls with big ones, I give hugs.
Al Bundy loved calling them *******
at the restaurant, I wish I was one of the recruiters.
A girl with a nice set of knockers,
might find herself with unwanted stalkers.
Fergie sang about her lovely lady lumps,
a good set of melons, still give me goose bumps.
***** always come in a pair,
why do bra's, they have to wear.
Even men who smoke lots of crack,
still can appreciate a good sized rack.
I don't care if there fake or real.
in a crowded room, I always cop a feel.
Girls love showing off some cleavage,
I wish I lived in a ***** village.
Babies need breast milk to make them stronger,
if the mom is hot, they may do it longer.
In conclusion, I love *****
with whipped cream or melting ice cubes.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
There's a yellow green gas,
You can't see in your glass.
Sometimes you can tell,
It's there by the smell.
It does a great job removing bacteria,
Like Diphtheria,
Or even Listeria.
But what do you think,
Happens to the chlorine in your drink?
I don't want to alarm,
But there's a chance it might harm.
It protects at a price,
Attacking our bacteria that are nice,
And I'm sure it excels,
At killing your own cells,
Forcing new ones to grow,
When a mistake could cause woe.
Some studies have found it an enhancer,
Of bladder and bowel cancer.
Whether old or young,
Do you want it in your lung?
You have the power,
To remove it from your shower.
It's rather grim,
To have to breathe it when you swim.
You're more likely to wheeze,
Or sneeze.
Do you think it will please,
Your inflammatory bowel disease?
Perhaps it's the key,
To why there's Crohns and UC.
Do you think that your skin,
Might become a little thin,
And be filled with dread,
As it starts to turn red.
Can you not feel,
How it's harder to heal?
It makes our tissues grow old,
From what I've been told.
Our cells can only divide,
A few times before they're stupified.
With asthma and chlorine on a map,
You can see they overlap.
Sadly in the West,
Not everyone has guessed,
That there may be a link,
With the gas in our drink.
“But!”, I hear you cry,
“Without it people will die.”
Let go of your dread,
We can use something instead.
The answer is well known,
It's called 'ozone'.
Made from pure water,
It's gone when it reaches my daughter,
Unlike chlorine it's life is brief,
What a relief.
There's many a city,
That make it with electricity,
Splitting water into hydrogen,
And best of all, oxygen!
For ozone is made from O2,
Yes, it's true!
Imagine if you had,
Water with nothing they add.
Already there's Paris and Nice in France,
Where people can dance.
San Diego and Los Angeles in the USA,
Have water that's ok.
And Osaka in Japan,
Now use this plan.
But you don't have to be rich,
To make the switch.
Ask a clever committee,
To stop chlorine in your city.
See if you can arrange,
To have your water change.
I hear you shout,
“Can 'I' get this chlorine out?”
If you leave water in a jug overnight,
What's left will be slight.
Boiling will send it away in the air,
So there's no need to despair.
You can also remove it with a filter,
Or a water distiller.
To learn more have a look,
At 'Question Chlorine' on facebook.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Supposing that we lit some candles.
One for each person on this earth,
we would blow one out at a funeral
and light one up at a birth.
The world would grow darker
every time we lost a fighter
but with every new born baby
it gets just that bit brighter.
If you travelled into a city that was dark and gritty
you'd know that they didn't have many in their committee.
But.. If the light was brilliant and bright
it would send a beaming message throughout the night.
Saying "We are here! And we are alive!"
Not wanting to be alone we endeavor to collide
and form one giant, shining beacon
that burns so fierce we're sure it can't weaken
We sparkle and crackle and bend nature to our whim
the mighty fire so strong it just had to gave in.
With it we forged iron and buildings, cars and computers
and lit paths of lives to guide commuters
We lit up the universe as far as we could see
Improving our lives greatly with technology
obsessed with our professed fixture on practicality
we completely forgot about morality
Our fires forged weapons which we aimed next door
In one swift movement we saw the effects of war
6,000,000 candles extinguished
over arguments on which light is most distinguished
So fixated on this light we blinded our eyes
and the candle smoke filled the skies.
We thought candles were good, they elevated us higher
but now all we have is thick smoke and fire.
The fire consuming all in its route
the root of our lives follow suite.
It's eating the oxygen and burning the grass
the sand is melting and forming to glass.
The glass it shatters into a thousand pieces
more candles are lighting, the temperature increases
The resources decline, as do the candles
buried in ash a hundred thousand scandals.
Now only a few lit candles remain
as they slowly melt and fade away.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 1:39 PM UTC
Say this city has ten million souls,
Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes:
Yet there's no place for us, my dear, yet there's no place for us.
Once we had a country and we thought it fair,
Look in the atlas and you'll find it there:
We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now.
In the village churchyard there grows an old yew,
Every spring it blossoms anew:
Old passports can't do that, my dear, old passports can't do that.
The consul banged the table and said,
"If you've got no passport you're officially dead":
But we are still alive, my dear, but we are still alive.
Went to a committee; they offered me a chair;
Asked me politely to return next year:
But where shall we go to-day, my dear, but where shall we go to-day?
Came to a public meeting; the speaker got up and said;
"If we let them in, they will steal our daily bread":
He was talking of you and me, my dear, he was talking of you and me.
Thought I heard the thunder rumbling in the sky;
It was ****** over Europe, saying, "They must die":
O we were in his mind, my dear, O we were in his mind.
Saw a poodle in a jacket fastened with a pin,
Saw a door opened and a cat let in:
But they weren't German Jews, my dear, but they weren't German Jews.
Went down the harbour and stood upon the quay,
Saw the fish swimming as if they were free:
Only ten feet away, my dear, only ten feet away.
Walked through a wood, saw the birds in the trees;
They had no politicians and sang at their ease:
They weren't the human race, my dear, they weren't the human race.
Dreamed I saw a building with a thousand floors,
A thousand windows and a thousand doors:
Not one of them was ours, my dear, not one of them was ours.
Stood on a great plain in the falling snow;
Ten thousand soldiers marched to and fro:
Looking for you and me, my dear, looking for you and me.
6.6k
the committee
has convened
(kangaroos corralled)
the agenda
is set
(scapegoats framed)
the politicos
are preened
(perfect patriots)
hair coiffed
teeth whitened
(fangs sharpened)
correct talking
points bulleted
(minds closed)
puffed chests
perfectly postured
(bombastic bravado)
freedom fighters
stand firm
(Constitution usurpers)
American flag
lapel pins
(sparkling bright)
liberty's spirit
and tolerance
(roundly condemned)
special interests
are watching
(payola earned)
partisan lines
clearly drawn
(democracy doomed)
Music Selection
Cream: Politician
Oakland
10/1/10
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
Softly, gently, I sipped
your red cherry-lip petals
patiently, silently, I grabbed
your brown nip-let buds
deeply, knowingly, I drowned
into your blue eye-oceans
The feminine body turns
to be a dates garden
amidst my own
barren desert !
Williamsji Maveli
Email: [email protected]
*
KGA (UAE Chapter)
Literary award for Poetry declared for
Williamsji Maveli’s “Arramviralthumbath…”
The Kallettumakara Gblobal Association (KGA), UAE Chapter has announced their first poetry award for excellence to Williamsji Maveli's third poetry collection titled as “Arramviralthumbath …” (On the tip of the 6th finger, published by H & C Books, Trichur) .The award has been declared by Mathew David, Chairman of KGA at their Executive Committee meeting held recently in Sharjah Emirate of United Arab Emirates. The award has also been considered for his poetic works scattered in his recently published book named as “Maa Salama." ( means "With peace" in Arabic). The poems have been gathered from different desert sketches, focusing on his real-time life experiences ,while he was working in UAE for more than 30 years. Williamsji, (Williams George), former Ras Al Khaimah based Journalist and lyricist of tester-years has been nominated for a literary award for the first time for literature. The Award is being formulated by KGA (Kallettumkara Global Association, UAE Chapter) for outstanding contributions to literature from the native writers of Kallettumkara, a village town in Trichur, Kerala in India. The award will be presented by the KGA’s UAE Chapter on the grand occasion of their 10th anniversary, which is being scheduled to be held during September, this year,
according to Mathew David, Chairman of Kallettumkara Global Association.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 3:09 AM UTC
I would have rowed to you
had you not rowed to me, to the city
inside our heads and outside our bodies
and one cracked knuckle was there,
the welcoming committee –
we are inside, we are inside we are in
the most delicious parts of you and me
I breathe in some scent,
fly into another sector, another crevice
thinking love does the strange things:
I would have rowed to you had you
not rowed to me – I would have
rowed to you had you not rowed to
me. And we drown in each other, baby.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
He worked at the War Department,
in the Munitions Ministry,
for the Bureau of Cannon Fodder
on the Condolence Committee.
“On behalf of George, our king,
and the grieving British nation
We regret to have to share with you
the following information….”
Passchendaele was at its height,
he’d written letters by the score.
On the Altars of Incompetence,
what’s a hundred thousand more?
It was the sort of sinecure
in which he took a certain pride:
Informing British parents
that their darling boys had died.
His department heads approved
of his selfless dedication,
recording for posterity
each man’s final destination.
Thus it was they failed to notice
when he received a telegram.
That day he went back to his flat
a changed and broken man..
When next day, his chair was empty,
and they received a telegram,
they were grieved to be informed:
He’d died by his own hand.
“On behalf of George, our king,
and the grieving British nation
I regret to have to share with you
the following information….”
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 1:24 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
From the streets
Of the windy city
In a cold world that
Showed him no pity
He used his gift of gab
To sell their kitty
And it wasn’t done
By committee
Iceberg Slim
I know you heard of him
He was a **** a playa
A consummate lady slayer
Who knew the game
So what’s his name
Iceberg Slim
I know you heard of him
He had no shame
Or second thoughts
He was true to the game
Followed the dots
He ducked the law
Sidestepped their plots
Paid his dues
And carried knots
Iceberg Slim
I know you heard of him
He was a **** a playa
A consummate lady slayer
Who knew the game
So what’s his name
Iceberg Slim
I know you heard of him
Iceberg Slim was
A legend
True to the game
And his profession
Handled his business
With discretion
Then wrote a book
A true confession
He tired of the **** life
In the end
He couldn’t go through the motions
And just pretend
He started feeling like
He might have been condemned
And he didn’t like
What that might portend
Iceberg Slim
I know you heard of him
He was a **** a playa
A consummate lady slayer
Who knew the game
So what’s his name
Iceberg Slim
I know you heard of him
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 3:28 AM UTC
Surrealism gone Awry
Watch, I open my skull on pneumatic hinges,you must have a hungry compulsion to peer inside and see the steamy tomato soup.
There is a certain blasphemy in believing.
See the dictator swill Avalanche in his mouth.
By decree the narcotics language
of surrealism states, that in the hierarchy of apples
Those closest to the sun murmur the sweetest, and in dreams the diabolical devil is obliged to meet you, but a committee of angels will arrive with Uzis loaded with enthusiasm... In time!
Surrealism is the proprietor
Of flowers fervently whirling like dervishes until... It is a place where I narrate lovers melting like pennies at the sight of each other, where home appliances long for your touch.
My fetish is my imagination, wild, wild imagination extravagant as your birth child,
Gaudy and beautiful like a coach built Cadillac by Saoutchick.
Where everything utter is true.
Welcome wide eyed wonder
To my simple things,
Fuel injected heart
Needle and thread
Enameled soul made from a French mind
Small animal pelts and bones for superstition
German precision
With the eye of a Xerox machine.
So one emphatically dream
Emphatically live
Emphatically believe everything uttered is true.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
Images float in-front of your eyes.
Your hair flies in the wind, almost wild.
You struggle with your skirt a little bit,
Feeling glad that you wore shorts underneath.
The wind can be heard even over the
Honking of the cars, as it carries some
Stray, withered leaves.
The sky has darkened and you can smell the
Freshness of grass over the smoke and
Stink of ******* dumps in the open.
The crows start flapping around in
Choreographed committee and start cawing
About the latest weather changes.
It somehow doesn't surprise me that this
Reminds you of countless others you
Might know.
The crows ruffle their feathers and
Take shelter in predefined places.
It is another rainy day amongst
Billions of others that have occurred.
To state the obvious, you have too
Much time in your hands if you begin
Describing another rainy day.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 7:54 AM UTC
Dear politician,
Thanks for stopping by
And for all the cameras
You brought along
This is where my house once stood
Before it was put afloat
And washed away
By what was once a mere creek
I see you came prepared!
An umbrella, a rain jacket
And some rubber boots as well!
Your whole attire
Truly you’re one of us!
So come on board!
We’ll ship down the main road
Look at the destruction together
While you make an earnest face
So everyone will see
How truly devastated you are
You assure immediate help
Promise to tackle climate change too!
Action is what is required?
We’ve stood still for too long?
It must be...
A sudden change of mind I see!
After all your warnings:
Avoid rash decisions!
Remember there is no need to panic!
What do you mean?
Let’s change the subject?
Oh my!
What lovely rain boots you have!
I hope you did not forget
To bring a change of clothes
There is not much time. You’ll be late!
Be on your way!
To the fossil fuel committee meeting
You see,
Your lobbyist is already waiting
Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 12:56 PM UTC
Numerous number systems beyond the real:
complex numbers, octonions, omnions which can eat whole black
holes.
It's axiomatic that your personal history, preferences, how you feel
account for nothing at all.
$30 buys a flock of chickens for a needy family (International Rescue
Committee)
$29 gets a girl a school uniform (CARE), for $300 you can stock a fish
pond (Heifer International)
$69 can start a female entrepreneur in the sewing business (Mercy
Corps)
$5 will buy a bed net that protects a family from mosquitoes (Against
Malaria)
20th century experiments demonstrated that electrical charge is
quantized; that is, it comes in
multiples of individual small units called the elementary charge, e,
approximately equal to 1.602
x 10-19 coulombs (except for particles called quarks which have
charges that are multiples of
1/3e).
Why has the experimentalism of the avant-garde, which has failed in
the novel, succeeded in
poetry? Because poetry is always experimental; while the novel, on
the contrary, by its nature,
cannot be . . . which is to say that experimentalism is synonymous
with poetry, and that applied
to the novel, it leads simply to the substitution of the novel with
poetry. --Alberto Moravia
Man made the town, Fibonacci inflated zero to be the wheel
around which the universe turns and language is the soul
walking and talking quietly or going angrily to war.
"Counting is in its very essence magical, if any human practice is at all.
For numbers are things no one has ever seen or heard or touched."
As are words.
Joan Didion thought the scariest stanza in all of poetry
begins Row, row, row your boat gently
down the stream. The elements, the material penumbra,
irresolvable for the mortal, readily dissolve in words and numbers.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
She told me to
"Imagine a safe place",
a quiet place, somewhere to go
when the fog is at my feet.
But everywhere I went was
crowded with doubt
and a lingering loitering
presence on my shoulder,
come out from the fog to
hurl accusations and taunt.
I can only assume
it's a he on my shoulder,
an enigma,
my father's doppelganger
come to dredge my mind
of all the **** he dished out
when I was a child,
and feed it back to me again.
I tell her I'll need more tools
and stronger ideas.
So she gives me a seat at
the head of the table
where my ****** committee meets,
and a gavel to establish order
or bash in their brains.
She arms my dreams
with weapons and courage,
gives me REM when I'm wide awake.
We fashion a furnace of love,
hot enough to vaporize the
cold darkness pouring into my gut,
customized with levers and pulleys
to push and to pull in the fight.
We tally
Alpha and Beta waves,
trained and retrained,
hard coded messages
sanded smooth by repetition.
*Through it all I give too,
and what I give is all I can give,
it is the warmth of what enslaves me,
and the thought of letting it go….
Well.... lets not go there right now.*
In the long run I'm not sure that
any of it will be enough,
I am weakened by the war.
But occasionally there
are shiny spots that simmer,
You see,
I may have found that place,
the place she first told me to find
way back at the beginning,
the place to feel safe, although
it isn't really a place per se.
If it were true
I could finally ascend to
where no fog can go.
Where my father's voice
cannot be heard,
nor the ghosts I grew
up with.
A place of love and honesty,
where my furnace would sit idle in awe.
There is a picture of us
on our bedroom wall.
It is the perfect depiction of
all that is safe for me.
I look at your smile
and I see peace.
Nothing can penetrate
your radiance,
you are everything
I've never had,
double layered and
impenetrable
by all of it.
By all of the ****
I am learning to go there
when the fog is at my feet,
and the ghosts are in my ear.
When the accusations come
I can escape there with you,
and together we can drown them out
if only for a little while.
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
A bill becomes a law through a process not unlike wet clay curing in the sun, seasonal labor filling the fields in springtime, a drop of sweat absorbed thirstily into a towel, a stain spreading across a tablecloth.
A bill becomes a law eventually, but often, not in time. A bill often fails on the floor, as do some people, as does, just as often,
the attempt to revive them. The attempt looks an awful lot
like a senator's face, energetic and gray and doomed and
looking for any advantage
when the needed advantage is in the ether
and still immaterial until the tenth of February.
I notice the bumper stickers, and I've deputized a Google Alert
to tell me that the popular mass is wakening.
I can also tell when it yawns,
or prods a rib for a pain that wasn't there yesterday.
I can tell when the popular mass has slept funny.
I can tell when it would rather not wake up at all
but the light is streaming in through the window
and the house is full of the sound of the dishwasher.
Pain on both sides, in both ribs, ignored
because sometimes it just happens - pain,
that is - and is a part of getting older,
like how you can't put peppers in your chili anymore
now that they don't grow on this side of the planet,
and there's nobody left to tend them.
I would like somebody to tend me, too,
but the law that sanctions that workforce
is still in committee, and mired in a dispute
about who deserves love.
This one goes out to all of those lying on their kitchen floor
once everyone is out of the house, lifting their legs and placing them on the countertop, listening to their heart ticking
and trying to discover if it reaches everywhere, if they can hear it
in their ankles.
This one goes out to their savings accounts and their kneecaps.
Here's hoping they make it.
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
we stood in our scarlet, costco bought handmaiden costumes
wordlessly taking a stand
because words matter
it is a stoic thing
to make history
kamala harris
wisely having her moment
so far, the height of her career
then we re-enacted various episodes
of House of Cards
all in front of Judiciary Committee
afterwards, we were given some money.
before going home to watch netflix, we had to educate the world
on the language they are and are not allowed to use,
because we need to control the world's vocabulary
especially since so many people are tranny-phobes
and we still think the term "hateful bigot" holds power.
thank god for the 25th amendment,
there is no way in hell that we will lose another election,
but if we do, we can always fall back on 25A.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
Adrift on her very first voyage
With the sea coursing in through her bow
Lay the cruise ship, the S.S. Lumbago
There was scarcely a chance for her now
But Ahoy! On the western horizon
In a flurry of yellow and green
That ender of blight and a damsel’s delight
And he’s always on cue for his scene
It’s Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
It’s got seating for seventy people
And the service is well above par
There’s an adequate medical unit
And a modest but elegant bar
What more could a man ever dream of
In a Luxury Budgerigar?
Well…
The forests of England were burning
So the foxes escaped to the city
The badgers had taken to looting
And the squirrels had formed a committee
But who should arise from a manhole
With a confident gleam in his eye?
That destroyer of woes with a spring in his toes
And he’s quick with a witty reply…
Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
With adjustable hose pipe attachment
It’s got wheels like a feathery car
The forests were dowsed and the fauna re-housed
With a three day retreat at a spa
It’s a thing to admire and surely acquire
The Luxury Budgerigar!
But…
Susan was stricken with sorrow
Twas her darkest, most fearful hour
A spider had wrestled her out of her bath
And set up his home in the shower
But who should jump out of the wardrobe
With an innocent look on his face?
That singer of shanties, remover of *******
And first in an obstacle race
Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar
With a sucker for spiders and beetles
That deposits them into a jar
There’s a tiny wee restaurant to feed them
It was given a Michelin star
A remarkable thing with retractable wings
Is a Luxury Budgerigar
So if you should be in a pet shop
And you see just the critter for you
Please heed this advice: make a note of the price
Then proceed to the back of the queue
When you ask for your preference of creature
Should it whistle, slither or waddle
Do as Sir Patrick Stewart did
And opt for the Luxury model
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
(This poem is on the earthquake that people in Sikkim,India had faced on 18 September 2011. I was one among them too! P.S- on this very that is my brother's birthday! So i remember it more profoundly....just read on to find out more. Certain words mean the following out here-
MG MARG- MAHATMA GANDHI MARG.{Marg means street.}
LAL BAZAAR-refers to a marketing place in the capital of Sikkim,i.e,Gangtok)
MAAL ROADING-Maal road is generally found in most of the hill stations in India. But in my college, Maal Road has a different and funny meaning.)
DISCO COMMITTEE-refers to the DISCIPLINARY Committee in our college,which takes stringent actions against the guilty.)
18 was the date-
When a bunch of girls had decided
to travel through the city.
But I was the one who wasn't prepared,
As it was raining pretty heavy.
The girls planned to eat,roam and shop about,
through the MG MARG and LAL BAZAAR!
Fortunately for me due to some unavoidable circumstances
the plan got dropped....
And all I could see was girls making unbearable pouts!!
In the evening,
when people go out MAAL ROADING,
I went to the shop with a company
for buying a recharge card as done daily!
Though I bought it,
I somehow forgot to scratch it, I rather kept it inside my bag.
Strolling down the campus
We sat on the football field
Watching the players kicking the ball in glee
With their boots,shorts and tee!
At exactly 6:10 pm, there was a great turbulence,
which caused a whole lot of purturbence!
Yes, that was the 6.9 that shook us!
People running to and fro to save their lives,
some shirtless,some barefooted and some in towels!
With buildings shaking and cracking
there was nothing
but utter horror and shouting!
People seemed like Refugees,
With no phone networks to contact friends,relatives and families!
We were told to sleep with our room doors open.
But how could we when there were still tremors coming?
SHAKE! and people would be out on the streets!
Such a day it was, when Mother Nature had terrorised us!
Still the authorities couldn't help themselves from separating boys and girls!!
If they happen to meet each other,
They would have to face the DISCO COMMITTEE all together!
Huh!! When will you get rid off this mentality?
So that we can live joyous and peacefully!!!
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
I do not know poetry
I know my toenails are too long.
I can feel them snag on the sheets that I haven't washed.
I'm out of toothpaste
my teeth feel grimy,
my gums raw
I waited all day to see you
so you could tell me that you don't like my sweater
You say you don't know how to talk to people who are in pain.
You are exasperated with the burden of humanity inherited by humanity
You are easy when you numb yourself constantly
Anger is righteous to accuse you
Defense is a child who is confident
All the villages you've saved but not me
I remember pain
I am so disappointed with your inhumanity
because no one can fail but me
You can read the look on my face
I can tell
So don't make me say things I can't
Pain is a vacuum
It doesn't exist in perfection
In an absence of sound,
even though it itself is so loud,
is inaudible
While I am at the bottom, God is at the top,
and you are somewhere in between
You are blocking the view,
misleading the people
You claim nothing but we demand something
When I left your house I wanted to crash my car into a ditch
Instead I drove home.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 4:42 AM UTC
When a rain-storm surprised the city
Passers-by looked down with pity
At a large group of nutters
Inspecting the gutters
An unfortunate planning committee.
They decided today was good timing
Below-streets they soon were climbing
Where the gutters connect
To the sewers they checked
And all got a very good sliming.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
it's 8:00 somewhere in Washington D.C.
and the global selection committee has made its picks:
for the 473rd time
all the number one seeds are filled by countries
that break the most rims and shatter the most glass.
here we have the U.S of the North American region
taking on Haiti, cos the poorest countries
always place no higher than 14.
China of the Asia region has drawn
Nepal,
Israel gets Palestine,
and Italy pulls Ethiopia.
There are no African countries-
they didn't make the tournament this year.
No problem tho,
the selection committee figures
they've been beaten up
too many times
to even make a layup.
Games start tmrw
so grab your favorite basketball merchandise
and keep the channel set.
There will be no upsets
so don't bother
pulling for the underdog.
They've already been
neutered, anyway.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
Well Annie now you've done it
through your gyrations, characterizations
imitations
a spot of light of spirit
flipped out into the ether
like some kind of spiritual dandruff
all crystal prisms
twinkling stars shook off of you
and floated
through my eyes and ears
and penetrated and infused
my pumping heart
through my circulatory system
snapping synaptic changes,
touching those places
of
dreams and trances.
Well Annie now you've done it all night long
with images of Olive Oil
and no Popeye
I have become a sailor man
unmoored from the safety of the slip
dragging the anchor
until the tether breaks
and find myself floating
on some Jungian sea
of the unconscious far away from the shore.
Well Annie now you've really done it -
How will this all play out
when walking down the faux marble hallways
as I roll up one wave of imitation
and down another in
clients/secretaries/billing clerks
deranged psychiatrists stories
and all of this reality
grabbing trying ranting riffing
how is this all going to play out
when strange guerilla theatre
erupts on backwards
in administrators offices
and leadership committee meetings
when I spread my legs
as my grand opening
in carrot top hangings
and turn to clients
offer them too
this spirit spark of
courage.
Well you've really done it this time Annie
when my door is locked
and pagers are begging for my attention
but I will be in the room at that desk
throwing rules, regulations
and my professional reputation
to the current winds of unwinding
truths and soulful stories.
When they turn to me
and ask for my forgiveness
in their true confession
or when I shift shapes
to the big onion
when everyone who wanders near weeps
when they ask me for that magic sentence
to make it all okay
or write a treatment plan
or
just a hand on the shoulder;
as they begin to talk
like rooms of old echoes-
I will tell them that will cost them extra.
You've done it now Annie forever
in my minute little world
rocked the boat
that spirit
like the butterfly wings causing the hurricane
of courage.
You've done it now Olive Oil Annie
I have found my spinach
and
freedom cannot be far behind...
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
Awesome Young
I stumble, catch myself,
But my breath is still short.
Skip around,
go back and discover,
uncover.
Incredible.
Awesome
in a way that overused word was intended to be
used.
There are so many miracles,
young poets, whose works
lost in the shuffle of the ordinary,
who don't get read, liked or
loved like they awesomely deserve.
One day,
someday,
I will write a poem,
naming names,
before a Congressional Committee,
getting them on the record.
Done it before,^
will do it again,
got take a week off from work
to get 'em all.
Odd,
even then,
will strike out,
can't capture them all,
they keep a-coming,
from all over the world,
places I never heard of.
It almost makes me believe
world peace is not just a
Saturday Night Live joke.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 8:18 AM UTC