Oh the cat is out of the hat
the maiden has lost her knickers
and my aunt Nelly blimey
oh what a kerfuffle

My wife just put ****** on the sausages
and one from the oven has shot up the dogs ***
oh this is not good, at party like this
oh what a kerfuffle

There must be at least twelve saints here
those that must be revered
yet they are dancing like nutters
oi the beers are over here

God look at peter paul and dingo
don't they act like plebs
I would not dance
if I could get the beat out of my head

Lets take it to the garden
and do the moonlight shuffle
let's be foot loose and fancy free
oh what a kerfuffle


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

What's going on
Where is all that
Kerfuffle coming from. Can't you get along?
Hey now stop playing dumb.
I'm hearing all negativity
Noones getting along
People got it in the 60s
Whether fake or not
They played their songs.
Hey what's the commotion
Getting mad at others
Haven't you learned a thing
To love one another.
Still you shed innocent blood
Not talkin' just by steel,
Words like deadly poison
To and fro get real.
Talkin down another
Hey " throw away that cutter,
Didint your mother teach you to
Hold your tongue
Don't say hey mother f.. ..
What you speak is
What you are
And what you are
Is what you speak
Am I getting to you
Do I seem unreal
Though it's many realities
I teach

the enfeebling mistake
veiled as a no-no
the little miss brazen **** bears the brunt
of what now must be a joke
incoherently fishing about for the juice
indecent glycemic index
meter says 30
profile says 10
or 15
milligrams of the judy blue pastille
no gobs to say about she
but when her jeans genuflect
no tiff
no tease
be a lamb or another even-toed ungulate
and give the poor girl what she needs

It had been one of those enervating days,
when officialdom and red tape paperwork
had ****** the yolk and marrow leaving only
a dullness that yawed the ghost ship of her frame.

She decided not to cook, as much as
payback for her ordeal by proper channels.
And so to the "Toilet Bar", cafe of choice
for malicious villagers, though rarely women.

The men folk hardly stared upon her entrance,
by now they knew those leopard skin boots,
that packed a wallop they grudgingly took
stock of, then returned to their cheese and wine.

This was her quarter of salt cod with cream,
prepared by owner Paula and daughter Carolina,
the only other women tolerated amongst the chairs,
that smelled of tar and testosterone.

Lacking collars three tumbled to the stony street,
drunken mechanic, one armed plumber, peg-legged sailor,
the kerfuffle amusing her, their wicked aunt.
Another Lagoan night that shimmered out to sea.

i always thought that comparing
photography to painting
would be hard,
but then i read an article about
a girl with a baguette,
in the jardin de plantes
looking up at a kerfuffle
being pestered by sparrows,
having henri cartier-bresson
take a picture and i thought...

*one brush stroke of colour,
after watching a blank canvas
for about an hour.

As I Just close my door to my world
I Open the door to THE world.
SOOooooooo I Breathe in (breath in)

Take it all in

Airs somewhat cloggier than my space
At least im free from all that *** taste
And here, the Journey, begins.
Door to door about 58 minutes
Not including stops at the shops
And the inevitable wait at the bus stop
The electronic boards are always bad with timing  
Transport For London? Pssssh more like Thanks For Lying

*******.

About this time I ruffle and shuffle
Untangle my earphones and cause quite a kerfuffle
Unwinding the sound lines
Looping them in and out of their binds
Pulling and squeezing
Making sure the copper coil isn't easing
Cos they can give you a sharp *****!
For some reason that always happens on my fingertips,
And then they itch.

Oh the mechanics of me
Brought to thought
About my whole existence
As soon as something malleable
Penetrates my shell.
I'd look at the spot of blood and be rather..........disappointed
Why couldn't it be green? or maybe purp...blue?
At least then my suspicions would be true
That I'm not of this World Planet or Region
Coming from entities who celebrate happiness every season
Wandering around pretending to look like us
Just for kicks never indulging in any of the fuss
Just managing to jump out when things get hard
And back in when its all tickles and laughs
And out when its heartbreak or death
And then back in When Arsenal win the league! **** YES!!!

Yes...yes...That would make me feel blessed
Just to know I'm not like all the others
Who were all born from Mothers
Not that id wanna be born by a Brother
Cos that would be...odd.
I feel like I'm just waiting for my powers to be bestowed upon me
Dropped from the skies in a sacred ceremony
Surrounded by flying Lions
And jumping Elephants
Moonwalking Dogs
And Motorbike riding Frogs
Animals that I can't even imagine
That to my mind don't even exist
I'm greeted with cheers and smiles
And theres crowds going absolutely wild!!!
They all know the life I've lived
And happy that I've got to this bit
Where everything falls into place
Cos now I  control the ins and outs to my desired taste
Mmmmmmmmmmm
And it tastes so devine
Like souls entwined
Embodied in one another filling each and every space
Can you imagine how that would taste?
It would taste...tasty

All these thoughts from looking at this crimson blot on my finger
These are the things that make my mind linger
Dreams of being an ethereal being
As I look up and all that my eyes are seeing
Is the bus that i missed because I was daydreaming.

Solitary silence he seeks
Away from the celebration of him

Kerfuffle and commotion
He does not covet

He retreats to the tree’s shady veil  
Respite and relief silently welcomed

Detached and almost concealed
The wooden pony his dependable friend

Dappled light playfully dancing
Seclusion does not disappoint

Sanctuary, Shelter
Stay safe, oh beautiful child

The roofers are banging up above
making it stressful for the poets
We tremble with all the kerfuffle

As the roofers trail through the muddy garden
we wonder when they will be finished
As of now it is indefinite

Innocently enough, I found the kerfuffle of fluff bunched up in my knuckles because,
I never punch an innocent man twice.

Now take the spice out of the words, 'Hey, I'm a nice guy,'
And you'll have a half-truth that will trick yet still suffice;
I test my pick-up lines on mice and rats like the most esteemed of scientists,
Who engineered the difference between maize and rice using language as their disguise

I languish in this life.
I deal too much in the technical's and it leads to awkward strife,
Inside my mind.

I notice the fact that I think,
And watch the fact that I see,
And, for some reason, become ungrateful that my site
Isn't 360 degrees.

It is in my dreams.

I also seem to ask myself the question far too often;
"Are you sure you're living yet? Are you sure you're alive yet?"
Because I seem to forget that yet implies before and after;
And I stave off the potential for my mind to become some sort of existential disaster;

Nothing has changed about me biologically for 3 or so years,
Yet with the constant bombardment of scientific, philosophical, and existential food for thought
I seem to notice now
More than ever
My mortality.

And it's not just my mortality,
I ask, "What IS reality?"
And the slight lack of focus in my eyes makes me ask in framed legality,
"What is this actuality?"
And I lose sight that all humanity
Serves the same such similar circumstances,
With the 5 senses imperfections
And I'm sure that most of us are quite insane.

Please, don't abstain from braving existential terrain,
It will help you to obtain
The fact
That life is such a mystery,
And it's best to work with mystery,
In transcendental synergy,
Because suddenly humanity
Is null and void.

I write this true to mind:
These are the thoughts that float through mine,
And keep me sleepless time-to-time
Or keep me feeling like I'm sleeping,
As the thoughts keep me confined
On occasion.
Yet sometimes I do awaken
And feel myself a direct part of the reality I've forsaken,
Over-thinking,
With the labels that our minds have been creating,
Since the dawn of humankind and man-made time.

Glorious day.
The Sabbath day.
Saw my little daughter.
Probably shouldn't oughta.
Cost me dear.
Gave her payday loan.

On the way home peeped over the bridge.
Down in the docks magnificence stood.
A queen and traveller.
As mountains in dock.
Waiting until the bells on the clock.
Decree it's time to leave.
To set them free.
To rove the seas again.

Tall and silent they stood no evidence of kerfuffle.
No brass bands just silence.
As cavernous funnels scratched the sky.
The queen had funnels.
The traveller none.

Appear like a tower block on the dock.
The Venturer was truly a giant.
Queen Mary minimal in some strange comparison.
Beautiful and elegant in their domain.

Got home.
Sat on my bed.
Delighted as my stomach was fed.
Looked out of my room.
Over the gardens.
Up the path.
More sunflowers .
Than were there before.
Many more blooming like solar majesty.

Queen of the gardens v queens of the sea.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Hosannah (Mombo from Missoura)


<>

Hosannah (Hebrew): an exclamation of joy, adoration

<>
who says Hosannah anymore, I think, recalling
a question reversed,^ one, long ago, that she sent to me,
the answer comes, a puddle splashing grandmother,
Mombo from Missoura

a what?

doesn’t matter

Periodic perusals of the small fine poems here, jewels lost in the kerfuffle,
At once, a signet ringing word jumps into my historical consciousness,
That little place, where the childhood was puzzled, but purified, remembering
That little boy, in synagogue, lost amid a congregation chanting
             Hosannah! to
Yahweh, ghost god, user of intermediaries-whisperers,

Mombo from Missoura (today’s guest voice)

selected by greater forces to make him recall the unity of many voices

his squeaking tone, found among that pure noise
that went to god’s heart direct

exclaiming in joy, adoration of
a majesty unfound on Earth,
sealed with a Selah,
crowned with Hallelujah

that god who never, incapable of forgetting,
still chats with him, that boy, now a boy~poppy,
from time to time,
recalling when together,
they too, puddle jumped,
looking for oil drop rainbow spots
so they could unison shout out loud

Hosannah! A rainbow on Earth

Sabbath Sept. 14, 2019
<>

^ ”who writes poems like this?”

Trump's covfefe
caused a kerfuffle.
The people's voice
cannot be muffled.
A real brouhaha...
The Emperor's absurd
and yet we hang
on every word
and he has every right
to coin a new word
to have his fits of logorrhea
to incinerate North Korea
to mock the handicapped, women, and blacks
to free the super-wealthy from tax
to trash the planet
rob the poor
make the rich richer
and do much more....

"President Trump"
is an oxymoron.
Donald the Chump
is a *****.

Ooops, *****-Grabber's term has expired.
It's time to tell Trump:
"You're fired."

Petrichor- the scent of rain on dry earth.
eunoia (n.) beautiful thinking; a well mind.
basorexia(n.) the overwhelming desire to kiss.
elysian(adj) beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect.
clinomania(n.) the excessive desire to stay in bed.
psithurism(n.) the sound of the wind through the trees.
aegis- protection, support
affable- 1. easy and pleasant to speak to; approachable. 2. gentle and gracious.
agrestic- 1. rural; rustic. 2. unpolished; awkward.
alexithymia- inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner
ameliorate- to make or become better; improve.
anathema- 1. a formal ecclesiastical ban, curse, or excommunication. 2. a vehement denunciation; a curse. 3. one that is cursed or ******. 4. one that is greatly reviled, loathed, or shunned.
antediluvian- 1. extremely old and antiquated. 2. occurring or belonging to the era before the Flood.
apodyopsis- 1. the act of mentally ******* someone. 2. imagining women naked; ******* women mentally.
apolaustic- devoted to enjoyment
apostasy- abandonment of one's religious faith, political party, principles, or a cause.
apricity- the warmth of the sun in the winter.
assuage- 1. to make (something burdensome or painful) less intense or severe. 2. to satisfy or appease (hunger or thirst, for example). 3. to pacify or calm.
ataraxia- calmness or peace of mind; emotional tranquility.
atrabilious- 1. melancholic; gloomy. 2. irritable; ill-natured; peevish
bailiwick- one's particular area of activity, interest, or authority
banausic- merely mechanical; routine. 2. of or relating to a mechanic
clandestine- done in secret; needing to be concealed.
curple- buttocks; ****
doryphore- one who draws attention to the minor errors made by others, esp. in a pestering manner; a pedantic gadfly
dystopia- 1. an imaginary place or state in which the condition of life is extremely bad, as from deprivation, oppression, or terror. 2. a work describing such a place or state:
ecdysiast- a striptease artist
effusive- 1. unrestrained or excessive in emotional expression. 2. profuse; overflowing
euphony- agreeable sound
flapdoodle- foolish talk; nonsense
frippery- 1. pretentious, showy finery. 2. pretentious elegance; ostentation. 3. something trivial or nonessential
gelid- very cold; icy
gigglesome- prone to giggling
globule- a small spherical mass, especially a small drop of liquid
inchoate- 1. in an initial or early stage; incipient. 2. imperfectly formed or developed.
incondite- 1. poorly constructed. 2. lacking finish or refinement; crude
indemnify- 1. to protect against damage, loss, or injury; insure. 2. to make compensation to for damage, loss, or injury.
kakistocracy- government by the worst or least qualified citizens
kerfuffle- a disorderly outburst or tumult
lachrymose- 1. weeping or inclined to weep; tearful. 2. causing or tending to cause tears.
lackadaisical- lacking spirit, liveliness, or interest; languid
libertine- 1. one who acts without moral restraint; a dissolute person. 2. one who defies established religious precepts; a freethinker
logorrhea- excessive, incoherent talkativeness
maudlin- effusively or tearfully sentimental.
noctilucous- shining in the night
nullipara- a woman who has never given birth
obloquy- verbal abuse of a person or thing
perfidy- 1. deliberate breach of faith; calculated violation of trust; treachery. 2. the act or an instance of treachery.
quixotic- extravagantly chivalrous or romantic
susurrus- a soft, whispering or rustling sound; a murmur
transmogrify- to change into a different shape or form, especially one that is fantastic or bizarre
tryst- a secret meeting between two people who are having a romantic relationship.
usurp- 1. to seize and hold (the power or rights of another, for example) by force and without legal authority. 2. to take over or occupy without right
vertigo- 1. the sensation of dizziness; an instance of such a sensation. 2. a confused, disoriented state of mind.
vitiate- 1. to reduce the value or impair the quality of. 2. to corrupt morally; debase. 3. to make ineffective; invalidate.
Papilionaceous- having the form of a butterfly, having corolla with two wings resembling those of a butterfly

airs and graces
made up faces
hide weary bones
and holey souls

plastic smiles
haven't seen you in awhile
as internal insecurity riles
the faint heart murmurs
in these desolate piles
that have run,
far too many miles


pacemakers racing,
cracking casings,
death dicing,
panic rising,
polite ruses,
for the aged muses
pacing this,
social green mile

daily shuffle, kerfuffle
as dark winds ruffle
the blue rinse perms
and only partially muffle
comments snide
about bottoms wide,
perkless *******
and unholy rests,
of these none too
permanent guests
at this palace of
mortality and malice.

end of hours
visitors gone
wilting flowers
and dinner gong
release the  nurses
put away the purses
slump and sway
end of another day
keeping the old foe
death at bay

granny nightie,
thoughts now flighty
with pins in hair and vacant stare
fervently wishing to be anywhere
wishing for some one to be there
but knowing, life's just not fair
when you've grown this old
knowing that each day is a dare
each day a gem sometimes rare
but more often gravel  
yet, better living than stone cold.
tho stone cold.....but without a care


here I stand,  I sit, I lie,
thinking dark thoughts
on the protracted art of dying.

It was Friday afternoon and we’re discussing weekend plans. “You know,” Anna said, introspectively, “we were different people last year. We (Sunny and Anna) went out both nights, Friday and Saturday - for weeks. We got a taste for it, we were absolutely feral.
“True,“ Sunny admitted, “but we were high school nerds, we had to go a little crazy.”
“I can’t imagine going to the frats this year.” Anna said, with a quiver of revulsion. “Not that we’re living the nun-life, exactly.”
“Not exactly,” Sunny confirmed with a chuckle.

In fact, it’s been very quiet in our dorm suite recently. We’ve been ASMR-ing 24x7 and I have to say I like it - there really is something pinequal about it. We’ll be on campus somewhere together talking very softly with our heads pressed together - we get looks - but we’re not the only ones - it’s a trend.

Another trending is “That’s why I’m the way I am” where you have to tell an off-beat story about your pre-college self - ending with “That’s why I’m the way I am.” All in whispers, of course.
We’re all sitting on floor pillows around a large, low rectangular coffee table where we usually study.

Leong, whispers, barely audibly, as we all lean-in and strain to hear. “One time, when I was playing softball in high school (this was in Macau, China), I got benched and I started planking on the bench in protest and somehow, the other girls thought it was hilarious and it started a trend at my school, of planking if you got benched or something and the school administration thought that attitude seditious and threatened to stop the playing of softball altogether if players didn’t behave. That’s why I’m the way I am”

I take up the game with “I had this evil French teacher in high school, Mrs. Chew. She hated me because she knew I didn’t have to try very hard in her class to get an “A”.
One morning, Mrs. Chew was being a real *****, and she asked whether I was dyslexic.”
“Well,” I answered, innocently, “I got into Yale.” (With an implied air of - “f*ck off”)
“That’ll be a lunch detention,” she said, one-upping me, it was unfortunate and tragic. That’s why I’m the way I am”

“I started this whole kerfuffle yesterday,” Sophy said, out of the blue, “by saying “THE” Ukraine.” “GOI,” I snapped, “THE United States!!” And I think I crushed THEM.
“Have you been spending time at the med school?” Lisa asked, “Did they give you something?”
“If so, share,” Anna laughed.

Leong gasped, “Did you guys hear that car last night, cruising back and forth by the dorm dubbing? The fricking stereo was bassquake - I was ready to **** by the time they drove away.” “Yeah,” we all groaned.
“Let's hope THAT doesn’t trend,” Leong added.

I think it's wise
To bat and blink your eyes,
And to pretend to fly
-at times

Times when the saltiness of your tears
Taste like a Dark & Stormy
From your bitter years

Times when you feel your feet,
But not on the ground
When your mind feels stripped
But not quite sound

Times when you feel like a wilting flower
Energy diminished, &you;; mood is sour
You blink, and forever has come and gone
But it's not even past the hour
Though it feels so long

It's the times we feel lost
That liberate us to fly free
Because as long as we're lost
There are endless possibilities

So remember,
When deep in the kerfuffle,
To ruffle your feathers,
Ride out the weather
Close your eyes,
And simply,
Fly.

well indeed, what a pretty picture except maybe the trilby hat.


i imagine them to be blue and green you know.


we went into town yesterday and wanted cake.

quite a kerfuffle at the hotel as i asked for the menu  to look at cake so we were sat in the luncheon area which of course was incorrect especially as they had no cake

not even a teabun

one got caught up in a kerfuffle
looked ones opponent in his rolling eye
you come lookin you done found trouble
was his shirt ripping battlecry
now while confronted with the conundrum
of how to respond without responding in kind
ones attempt to maintain decorum
was met with disdain
and a wild right to ones blind side
momentarily dazed possibly mild concussion
left one for a second or two in a deep malaise
gentlemanly conduct wasnt going to be possible
so what one did next was beyond the pale
but **** em
one kneed him in the *******
poked him in the eyes
kicked him up the ****
then ran as fast as ones wobbly legs could provide
judging by the lack of follow up
and the sound of sobbing coming from behind
a ******* or an eyeball
was the cost of poking a finger at the wrong little posh guy

I lived in a small town in the mid west
well let's say some years ago
it would take a day on horseback
just for you to get to the next town

Well trading here was at a minimal
since the old tin mine went awry
they said it was because of a cave in
but I did never believed it, or took mind to it
so there was little much to do in old Medusa

Just once a year, usually in the fall
you would hear the hooves clattering on the cobbled streets
with the rattling of pans and other wares
all the folks would look out of their windows
knowing Mr Mcgrady was here

Well this one time, he put on one hell of a show
he pulled this small bottle from his pocket
the bottle had a real strange eerie green glow
he said one drop on your forehead would do
telling them all their dreams would come true

Well that night there was a big kerfuffle
everyone had a dollar in their hand
everyone wanted a drop or two
moving closer to the stand

Well Mcgrady was overjoyed
a dollar a drop he did deploy

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

A pride of lions
A parade of elephants and
A shrewdness of apes

A prickle of porcupines
A crash of rhinoceroses with
A chatter of budgerigars

A gaggle of geese
Gleefully honking
Heads held high

A horde of crows
Cackling and cawing
Wings spread wide

A kerfuffle of Flosses
A gatherings of clans
A thankful flocking

Kerfuffle is commotion
A happy hoopla
Movement together

Noisy, gleeful, cantankerous
Laughing, loving, boisterous
Family to the end

I entered school at Blaisdon Hall,
when everybody seemed so tall:
but when I finished being taught,
all my chums in height were short.

The invention of a former cook,
fed the progress of my build and look,
along with spuds - best of Stud Farm crop,
and regular pudding known as "FLOP"

Wilfred Higginbotham was his name:
t'was from Manchester that he came.
Before him the chef was Mr. Higgins:
toupee-topped, nicknamed “Wiggins.”

Very wobbly on a pushbike:
Wilfred was (as they say today) "like"
sort of fat.  Yet, tha' knows
very light upon his toes.

If in the mood and no kerfuffle,
he'd do a lively soft shoe shuffle.
Opera trained - Wilfred was a singer:
for a famous Welsh tenor a dead ringer...

By the serving hatch, his apron gravy stained,
melodious, cheerful, unrestrained
he'd make the pots and kettles ring
as from the repertoire he'd gaily sing..

....selections de La Traviatta, La Boheme,
in his opinion "la crème de la crème"
and other classic arias with aplomb
in the style of Harry Secombe.

Now Wilfred’s "FLOP" a sort of madeira cake:
from the kitchen hatch the server would take
a warmish, deep presenting tray,
where puffed up inviting, there it lay.

Father "Bulldog" Wilson then would cut a slice,
take a bite - declare it “Nice!”
Alas! his knife released the air,
that wily Wilf had mixed in there.

Like a balloon pricked by a pin,
silently within the cooling tin
the cake collapsed. What a ****!
Wilf (t'was said) had used a stirrup pump.

Wilfred - as a baker- didn't cut the mustard,
but he was a dab hand when it came to custard!
A portion of his added magic yellow liquor
made the deflated "Flop!" taste thicker.

What was served up, had a fleeting taste
and was scoffed down in a fitful haste,
thus pleased I am to here relate,
not a trace of "FLOP!" was left upon the plate.

Whatever came of Wilf, I'll never know:
back up North, to ailing mum he had to go.
But still his pudding can invoke
such sensual sentiments all beyond a joke.

Early on in life Marcel Proust's nibbled madelaine,
a lifetime later, when dipped in tea,
and tasted once again, had power to regain
lost time and illuminate his memory.

So it is with me and as I thought
of cher Marcel, an evocative poem was wrought:
"FLOP"!" inspires the 1950s when I recall,
those schoolboy meals in Blaisdon Hall.

TOBIAS

What's left at the bottom of your pint
The disguards, the mouthwash, the unwanted kerfuffle
Measured up to society
A load of ****** trouble
The majority queued at the job centre
The dreamers, the wash-ups, old Ken still clutching his Fender
Better off in a tidal wave
I really hate to tell you
But that's life and has been since day one
They come and go, these forgotten days of fun
Sometimes you have money, others you have none
But think big, think tall, better days will always come

JJB

there's a humming in the apartment.
a monotone kerfuffle

a creature so beautiful; so broad, so ruffled
could not stretch upright; left, right,
or down between the legs.

the humming in the apartment
is painfully obscene.

Instead of walking briskly, I often shuffle:
Watching TV I’ll cough, sniffle and snuffle:
This riles my wife and creates a kerfuffle,
Then flipping channels - her feathers I ruffle!
Such are the things that please me now!

Will nap in the chair, till dinner is late:
Or eat peas from my knife: to aggravate.
After jay walking, the motorist I berate!
Will say what I think; tell others straight
What’s on my mind, which makes some irate!
But they’re the things that please me now!

I lecture my children - it’s something they hate:
Bore them with old tales I repeatedly relate,
It drives them to tears, so they often state,
Or makes them angry! I love to infuriate!
It’s more of what pleases me now!

Slurp my coffee and saucer my tea ;
Dunk my biscuits when in company;
Will openly burp and quite often loudly,
Which makes others blush by acting badly,
Just doing a few things that please me now!

When my wife calls: I’m not to be found,
Should she call louder? I hear nary a sound!
Offer unwanted opinions that shock and astound,
Argue for hours, stubbornly standing my ground,
Sure these are things what please me now!

But when day is done: I head off to bed,
Though never admitting to things done or said,
As tomorrow might be too late - I could be dead,
Will mumble I’m sorry for the dance she’s been led,
That’s the time for what best pleases me now!

Rhymer March 5th, 2018
Just joking folks!

Instead of walking briskly, I often shuffle:
Watching TV I’ll cough, sniffle and snuffle:
This riles my wife and creates a kerfuffle,
Then flipping channels - her feathers I ruffle!
Such are the things that please me now!

Will nap in the chair, till dinner is late:
Or eat peas from my knife: to aggravate.
After jay walking, the motorist I berate!
Will say what I think; tell others straight
What’s on my mind, which makes some irate!
But they’re the things that please me now!

I lecture my children - it’s something they hate:
Bore them with old tales I repeatedly relate,
It drives them to tears, so they often state,
Or makes them angry! I love to infuriate!
It’s more of what pleases me now!

Slurp my coffee and saucer my tea ;
Dunk my biscuits when in company;
Will openly burp and quite often loudly,
and make others blush by acting badly,
Just doing a few things that please me now!

When my wife calls: I’m not to be found,
Should she call louder? I hear nary a sound!
Offer unwanted opinions that shock and astound,
Argue for hours, stubbornly standing my ground,
Sure these are things what please me now!

But when day is done: I head off to bed,
Though never admitting to things done or said,
As tomorrow might be too late - I could be dead,
Will mumble I’m sorry for the dance she’s been led,
That’s the time for what best pleases me now!

Rhymer July 12th, 2018.

Moonlight:


I think it is time
to stop this kerfuffle soon
before it has won

the achy heart pounds
it does not understand me
rather it would fight

my ears curl like leaves
they resemble elven sharps
they quiver so kind

maybe I have wrought
the tides to sweep me home to rest
and loose my stiff bones

a child does not ask
why a man holds his tongue well
do not ask me twice

the tree is evil
its bark collapsed by its plan
and I watched it fall

do not rhyme or sleep
slumber is for the deadened
sheep count so beguiled

my heart likes your lips
and my toes curl like your hair
so of course its love.

The unfortunate character
trembled and tripped
He took a nasty spill
one day when he was already ill
The path was unlit, excessively muddy
and he slipped
Since he was into his second bottle of wine
and overstressed by his dunkenness
the cause of his fall
was indefinite
leading to the struggle
and trouble
of our kerfuffle

Brain Strain!
i once tried to imagine myself with intellect,
but i have enough trouble with the internet
i don't need anything to kerfuffle, or befuddle me more
perish the thought, it would make my brain sore!
by Jemia 😏🙃🙄

The kerfuffle
was caused by the workers
The stress made people tremble
and seemed indefinite

Hippos like mud
and children sometimes too
They jump and splash in the mud
thinking it's good to do

Muddy boots again- I tell you
I will not put up with you
eternally tramping on my clean floors
I'm feeling so stressed
that I'm all of a tremble
and if it goes on indefinitely
there will be a kerfuffle