"jeb" poems
Unke, nigahon, se nikali, jo teer
Dil se, ** gaye, bas hum, fakir
Aasman mein, saje, kahkashan
Nek, iradon se, hua, phir nikaah
Khwab aur haqueekat, ki hui, takkar
Bechara, dil ka mausam, hua patjhar
Unke, zubaan se, ab, nikalte, hai teer
Aur, ab, ho gaye hai, hum, jeb se fakir
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
The hinky stinky spider
Spun a crooked web.
His mama called him,
Said “You stop that, Jeb!”
Jeb the hinky spider
Pays nobody mind.
He stumbles on his way
Just as if he’s blind.
The hinky stinky spider
Spins webs around DC
Pulling in Republicans
To his philosophy.
They do not notice
His mind is awful dim.
That is because they
Are half as bright as him.
The hinky stinky spider
Spins old and faulty tales.
Knows half the voters
Will fall for all his wails.
Hoping he is lucky
Like his brother Dub
And gets himself elected
Resulting from a flub.
The hinky stinky spider
Looks just like a man
Looks very much like
A normal also-ran.
Hopes he can win with
What he thinks is fame
Based on ignoring
The blight upon his name.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
The Story Of Shoestring Jeb
This is the story of Shoestring Jeb
Everyone said he had a hard head
Jeb was a fighter, one of the best around
Till one day it was that Jeb hit the ground
Jeb had never lost a fight
He was known as being as fast as light
Jeb was a hero in my part of town
Known as the greatest fighter around
For sure now, it was surprise to see
Who Jeb lost to and buckeled his knees
No one would ever think it could be
That Jeb would fall to little Sally Marie
Sally Marie was a bitty little thing
But she used her size to bring down Shoestring
No flurry of punches to knock out his teeth
She blew him kisses and said he was sweet
Jeb was beaten by a punch never seen
No more fighting at the request of Sally Marie
Jeb lost that last fight but some say that he won
Sally Marie took him out with a punch of true love
Carl Joseph Roberts.
I see a sequel in the future. The continueing life of Shoestring Jeb...lol
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
Ode to My Hero (Me)
to be sung by Donald Trump
with apologies to Gilbert & Sullivan's
H.M.S Pinafore
As a callow youth I served a term
as Senior VP of my Daddy's firm
His moxie and his money so suited me
that now I am the ruler of the Trump fam'ly
When asked a question, my Golden Rule
is to bluster loud and flaunt my cool,
And this evasion so well suits me
that I've become the master of chicanery.
With legal suits, I've made so free
that all my smitten lenders bow down to me
For I pay my lawyers so liberally
that I never lose a dollar on a bankruptcy.
If now and then my luck runs out
I've buckets of money from my TV route,
And since my ******* up name is Gold
the money keeps a 'comin from the young and old.
For my great fame they pay and pay
and their paltry savings they fling away
on Trump U studies they're sure to find, will empty their wallets, not fill their mind.
So listen and learn from my Trumpery
and join white men who hate Hillary
They holler hosannas for their hero DonT, though for Trump adulation they can't beat me!
My heads not troubled by policy woes
'cause I learn all I want at beauty shows
I've put up very well with my three wives,
my yachts & my mansions & my gambling dives.
I've exalted myself unsparingly
and tossed off little lies with impunity
Let fey foes fault me as vain & mean,
their rightful envy leaves me quite serene.
With my big mouth and red regal head
I've clobbered all my rivals until they bled
With frank contempt I dissed Jeb B
bashed Carson & Kasich and Ted's lady.
There's hardly a Republican left to fight
and, in wimpy Dems, I inspire fright
while fearful folks seek my mighty arm
to shield them all from ISIS harm.
Now I've come to the end of this very fine Ode
to march with pride on the Presidential Road
For my boundless bluster's so elevated me
that now I am the ruler of the GOP.
If another Trump you aspire to be,
you must never, never fret about decency.
Just stiff the losers and brag like me,
and you may be the Grand Old Party's nominee.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC
Shoestring Jeb
(Continued Part 2)
Shoestrimg Jeb was a very calm man
Always willing to lend you a hand
Jeb would never try to offend
And if he did he would ask to forgive
Now Sally Marie was Jeb's true love
And he gave to her all he had
He promised her he would never fight
Kept his word till they took her life
Sally Marie was home one day
Three men broke in and had their way
Jeb came home and saw his wife
She was stabbed ten times, he watched her die
The bar was dark, Jeb saw three men
Drinking and laughing over what they did
They saw Jeb but they didnt run
A big mistake, Jeb had his guns
Jeb's guns were his arms, never lost a fight
He beat those men, one at a time
Tied a showstring around three mens necks
Pulled it tight till each one was dead
Jeb never felt bad, not for what he did
He used his shoestrings to **** three men
The law looked twice but wouldnt convict
But Jeb never wore shoestrings again
Now if you see a man with no shoestrings in
Remember this story of Shoestring Jeb
Sally Marie was the love of his life
Three men took her,........ Three men died
Carl Joseph Roberts
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
What the **** is Cuck?
It’s a brand new ***** word
If you’ve been called a cuck
You should know that you’ve been slurred
You may have come across it
While browsing the Interweb
And seen it used insultingly
When describing a Bush called Jeb
It’s short for the old word Cuckhold
But given a new spin
It’s used to insult someone who’s committed
the Political Correctness sin.
If I may be declarative,
The word is simply horrible,
Be ye liberal or conservative
I’d say it’s quite deplorable
The Donald is no cuck, for sure
When he utters dog whistles like this -
If he says “blood comes out of her ‘whatever’”
The true meaning you just can’t miss
Or when he said the Second Amendment People
Might take care of our dear Hillary
Of whom he impugned would eliminate guns
And promised that he would pillory
Apologies are for sissies
Don’t wait for a pivot or turn
Was it voter suppression that rigged the election?
One day, we may learn
Cuck is the word of the day
Like some chirp made by Pepe the Frog
A new epithet from the far alt-right
Who follow our new demagogue
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
racja, raptem świat mały a pocztówka WIELKA! ah ten zazdrości widok! to samo co chytra trumna chce, to samo świat nada obfitą chęcią! grzeb grzeb w równi rękopisu, bo ci mówie, a nie bo ci karze, bo tobie jest nakazana równina ze mną: jak i ze śmiercią i z doliną w zdaniu... ten jeden łyk lekarstwa... to mój polski!
dupa głosi!
o kurwa i 'czak
gzymps wedle
spadku PRO FI TU,
racji węglowodanów
by pierdzieć z iskrą
w kult narodu;
jeb sie ze swą prywatką!
o tu sie zgina dziób pingwina!
ah tak, noworodek
Sopotu!
chciała dume... no to ją ma!
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
by James Bruce
You’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re a Millard Filmore,
You’re the top!
You’re the Girls of Gilmore,
You’re lucidity’s not Huckabee’s weird views,
You’re an immigrator,
A great debator,
You’re not Ted Cruz!
You’re the style,
Of a Ronald Reagan,
You’re the smile of a foxxy Megyn,
Were you Hillary, you’d be pilloried, and flop!
But if Donald, Ailes’s the bottom, you’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re the Wall of China,
You’re the top!
You’re acute angina,
You’re hyperbole that’s a felony in Queens,
You’re Rand Paul’s mama,
Barack Obama,
You’re full of beans!
You’re the star,
Of the G.O.P. camp,
You’re a jam on a Christie bridge ramp,
I’m a crippling loan, a Roger Stone, a flop!
But if baby, Jeb’s sunk lower, you’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re a well-coiffed dandy,
You’re the top!
Your hair’s cotton candy,
You’re assets vast that cast a glow of Trumpf
You’re a Carly visage,
The Greenwich Village,
You’re Friedrich Drumpf!
You’re demure,
You’re a friend of pollsters,
You’re the spur on some heels with holsters
I’m not fit to race, too commonplace, a sop!
But if Donald, I’m rock bottom, you’re the top!
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
They criticized poor Jeb
For showing off his gun
And trying to get street cred’
When he don't have none
His glasses have been shed
The Clark Kent image done
And now he’s chumping Trump
Just to have some fun
Poor, poor, poor Jeb
Has found his energy
But it took his brother’s help
And Trump’s insults ya see
Will he win in the end
How come you’re asking me?
I don’t know the answer
Or his destiny
I call him poor Jeb
But here goes the hitch
No matter what I called him
He would still be rich
His detractors probably say
He’s a son- of- a- *****
No offense intended
Mama Bush PUT DOWN that switch!
Poor Jeb sure knows how
To maintain his composure
Despite the barbs and insults
That just goes to show ya
He’s looking for results
And some final closure
For him the Presidency
Is the ultimate ambrosia
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 6:31 AM UTC
The yellow dog was dead,
starting to bloat on the side
of a more rural stretch of 169
hwy.
It was easy to see,
despite the brevity of
our time together,
that the yellow dog had
belonged to, was part of,
a home, a family.
Even in death,
the dog looked like a
Dutch, or a Butch, or Jeb, maybe Roscoe;
like a dog that belonged
in a setting such as
this.
Not,
however, on the side of this
two-lane piece of asphalt,
but in this patch of fly-over
country that he had, just a
while ago,
snuffled.
Or,
living in the horse barn,
sleeping on the loose caroms
of straw, maybe catching a rabbit
for his supper now and then;
his master bringing him into
the house for a warm bath,
some table scraps, when the weather
cooled.
However,
today is warm,
the sun glints off of the white fluff
of a rabbit’s **** and the chase that
ensued was magnificent…
Unfortunately,
it led the yellow dog
to his less than enviable fate,
lying near the sweet summer grasses
with a look of disappointment etched onto
his face.
Upon my return,
passing the same spot,
I see that the yellow dog
is being given a wake.
The vultures,
their congress having voted,
their kettle having stirred,
landed near this fallen hound
and prepared to feast.
Though,
again my investment in the scene
was brief,
I couldn’t help but notice that
the yellow dog still wore a sturdy-looking
collar and that his tags shone brightly
in the late afternoon sun.
So,
I found myself hoping
that as he’d lain at the edge
of his last green horizon,
he looked up at the clouds
and thought:
“This isn’t so awful. I made the best of it.”
Then,
as the wake of vultures
began to feed,
I hoped they too might consume
some fleeting memory that the yellow dog
had about chasing rabbits, thrown sticks,
rolling in mud, or perhaps even this particular
misadventure,
the one that had led to
his wake.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&Z Publications 2018
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 3:38 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
To be fair
And I might say, perfectly clear
It his paradigm to prepare
Jeb Bush is quite aware
Of the tortoise and the hare
Despite fits and starts and a scare
He’s convinced that he’ll be there
And his victory is close it’s near
His burden was a ton
But when it’s all said and done
He’ll be the only one
Basking in the sun
Counting all his mon’
Happy to have run
Declared the favorite son
It didn’t take a Gatling gun
Jeb’s been
Mild mannered And meek
Going after What he seeks
Though it took a while to peak
It didn’t mean the man was weak
He’ll be dancing cheek to cheek
Showing off his new technique
A risen star so to speak
Now some might say
He’s dreaming
At least that’s how it’s seeming
But he’s plotting and he’s scheming
Quietly instead of screaming
See his future’s bright and gleaming
And he cannot help but beaming
At the others futile scheming
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
In that noted class of Sixty-one, His was not the most famous name.
Still, John Pelham served the cause until death staked its claim.
The Gallant Pelham took the field across three years of war.
It’s said he never knew defeat; Success was all he saw.
A shard of shrapnel pierced his brain that day at Kelly’s ford.
They carried his body from the field; his soul remanded to the Lord.
His leadership was sorely missed with Gallant Pelham in his grave.
Jeb Stuart paused to shed a tear for the bravest of the brave.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC