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jeffrey conyers Nov 2012
Let me see.
If I won the Powerball.
Just what would I do?

I hire a good lawyer.
And not any accountant he knows.
I hide for wahile.
We know we find kins coming for some dough.

I plan on giving to the church.
Even if it's not one I attend.
God has many worshippers, as friends.

I find a great investment advisor.
And like some rich people seems to do.
I hide some money around the house.

Never.
Never within the mattress.
And not ever in the couch.
I be selected on those within my company.

Yes, I give to friends that helped me out.
You know, those that treated you more like a family.

Besides, a wise mind doesn't spend freely.
Hardly ever at all.
Especially, if it's the Powerball.
Megan Zhao Jan 2016
O what
an exhilarating
celebration
for something that meant to
happen but never did
O what
a stimulation
to the mind with blowing
solar wind
Who says that dream has to be
solid like gold with wings
Mercury, Mercury
that planet nearest to the Sun
volatile and sensitive
charged with heat
my messenger to the God
burned
Now my world is cold
full of silent sound
So gone with my opulent  
submarine boat
But someone in California
is whooping it up
and living it large
His sun will always be
favorable
with those balmy breezes
Let me lament then
to my sunken submarine
My titanic pontoon
My Mercury's cavernous
moaning echoes
My love
for only in grievance
and sorrow, we suddenly
grow old and
bold
Haha everyone was buying tickets yesterday for the 1.5 billion Powerball Jackpot. I wrote a poem in Chinese last night dreaming to win and buy a submarine thereafter to build a castle inside it and write poetry everyday while traveling the world. Haha, I didn't win, so I came up with a different tune today.
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2018
I Am that I Am (אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה‬ ’ehyeh ’ăšer ’ehyeh)

for Eléa

the requests are assiduous, regularly arrivaling, some shy,  
some heinous demanding and denouncing,
inquisitors inquisiting this revelation,
as if it could be bought in a Five and Dime,
with a childlike whining insistence

just  exactly who are you?

this is not my name above,
but one of seventy the Father gave himself

He named me in a fit of efficacy and whimsy and in and from, a fit of a deep veined mystery

You Raise Me Up

all this on the ****** side of corny, and would not blame you
if you moved on…

so nominated in honor of my mission, to travel with you in
all the travails that ail,
to raise you up to raise me up and thus salve the universe's cracks,
fill the crevices and the ****** scars invisible,
with the precise refreshment that make my life,
a slave to your thankfulness

I am the wetness of a mother’s lips upon
a thin red tear on a child’s skin,
I am the the rock hard father’s shoulders grasped by a child’s arms, the child does yet understand that human is illusion,
human is human, however strong,
it is the allusion of human limitations
that is our magical

I am the present re-borning come with a morning glory,
the time when the Am and the Pm  future merge in a name
without tense,
past present and what I may be is simply what
I am

when the past is but another sky bright star, untouchable,
but winking at you, to you personally

I am the touch of the untouchable,
a messenger commissioned to remind you when
the reminders are too far apart,
or even too close
and thus make a breathing space
in between for the living and the missing

I am the
no difference
between a newborn’s soft skin cells
relentless multiplying,
that offers the same precise sensation of the
grandmother’s delightful wrinkling cells of smiles of her
relentless dying,
for all, one and the same,
the child in her is you, baby

I am the fall before the rise, the first that defines the last,
the standard, once obtained, nevermore unobtainable

I am the first fruit of the summer,
a tongue blossom, a burst of memory, always recalled,
always the same, that begs for forgiveness for there are no
new words to describe the profound finding of the
simple pleasures that sustains the blessing over all things new that
are recurring and truly
renewable (shehechayanu)

I am the crinkle in the eye, the one that hides in the fine lines
and upon the lips,
when you purchase the hope however fleeting of a
$2 Powerball ticket,
the very same hope preserved when you laugh when you lose,
for there is contentment in knowing one may hope spring eternal,
yet again in a finite
three more days for and too another lousy two bucks fantasia

I am the ruse of happy satisfaction of a man
in the dark of alone at home,
staring at his sizeable bank balance
and the happy knowledge that its loss  it will make it greater someday when it  happy converted to memories and photos that  are worth a thousand times its multiplicity
if only,
or when,
he knows how

I am that pain in the left side of your red sea-parted soul that cannot be dismissed but is religiously ignored,
that you alone know of
due to its persistent existence, and because it is just tolerable,
it is a sad but comforting pain,
an acknowledgment that a companion travels with you
and that in someway is ok and you exist

I am the water on the night table that extinguishes the dry throat of recurring visions in eyes that always end badly
and make the bed’s welcome a fearful thing,
which is a fearful thing for in good sleep is the
re-naissance and re-formation and the salvation
that was given to you as a gift inside thy mother’s womb,
and that
it is I,
whispering the hum of easy soft lambs,
soft breathing you
unto welcoming rest

I am the poem that must end because of our
frailties and impatience to live in
the reality of human touch,
that must be put aside for any novocaine of words

I am the one who can only be alive
when he raises you up and
you begin a new poem all your own,
and then exit it too, willingly,
to embrace the raising up of living

and that is the
who I am
that I am
raising us up
John F McCullagh Feb 2012
I used to have a dollar and a dream-
The dream still lives, but now it costs me two.
I have to ante up, though times are lean,-
my only chance to make my dream come true.
I’m not adept at picking combinations
of numbers that can produce a win
I think my ship is named “Costa Concordia”-
which may explain why its not coming in.
I agonize over number combinations-
while angry people wait on line behind.
I settle on my anniversary date;
Its never paid off yet, but give it time.
My friends all say I pay the “stupid tax”
I wait for that last laugh that will be mine:
A lump sum of a hundred million bucks,
or twenty smaller payments over time.
For many, its the retirement plan
Path Humble Sep 2017
I believe in myths.

Every naturel blonde was first someone else.  By that I mean, she was known as Norma Jean, maybe Katy, in high school (see reincarnation below).

My teenage glory days, when I was the king of cool,
will revisit when I am 75 years old, the man-in-demand (wink), wearing his lucky wide cord corduroys and letting my man-bun,
all the way down, at the prom in the senior citizen home, getting lucky, say once a month...

God, yup, after all, he/she cometh to me regular-like,
when he needs a poet~father to take his confession,
and pays me most excellently for refusing him forgiveness,
with the most excellent poem suggestions or lesser valuable things.

Love at first sight, of course, happens to me all the time,
twenty, thirty times when I am walking home.  I tell ya, it's exhausting, the stress of living in the big city

Not only will I win the lottery someday,
will take down both,  Powerball and MegaMillions,
in the very same week the odds for which
there ain't enough zeroes in HP's servers. (See God, above).

Reincarnation. One time they Hale(d) and then hanged me (my "namesake") and I said: " I only regret, that I have but one life to lose for my country."  Well, the selfies all show oh-boy-o-boy, was I ever grinning and winking.

Only boys are bullies, girls get off easy, by getting called
just mean.

One day my city's teams will win the World Series, the Stanley Cup, the NBA Finals and the Superbowl all in the same year but only after I die and me, well, only after they will have buried me in Wyoming or France, just for spite, and nobody will hear me screaming.

My children will speak fondly of me even after they find out I died broke, well maybe not fondly, but they will most definitely call out my name, regularly.

After my demise, all the typoes in my poems will magically disappear.

All these good things will come to fruition, because I am a believer, and walked the humble path. The autopsy will also show that my tongue was permanently stuck to my cheek.
As I reflect on my reflection,
I can't help but think I'm forgetting something.
Another year,
another birthday,
another love.

But what am I forgetting?

I climbed to new heights,
fell to new lows.
Crawled with crippled arms,
and even fought to stay standing.
Sometimes I was successful,
sometimes I wasn't.

But still,
what am I forgetting?

I made new friends,
lost old ones,
laughed at jokes,
and even cried when I watched "The Boy In The Striped Pajamas".
I felt feelings that honestly,
I had never felt before.

I climbed mountains,
and scaled walls.
I built bridges,
then burned them down,
only to come back,
and build them up again.

And yet I still ask myself,
what am I forgetting?

I gambled,
and beat the odds.
I gambled,
and lost.
Like when I put down twenty dollars on the record high Powerball,
and didn't get any numbers right.

But what of all things am I forgetting?

As I reflect on my reflection,
and ponder upon the year,
I remember,
I'm one year stronger,
one birthday stronger,
one love stronger.

I'm not a new man,
I never will be,
I will always be me.
But I can always get stronger,
and I always will.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Randy Johnson Jan 2020
It was the worst thing that ever happened to me.
My life went straight to Hell because of the lottery.
I got $100,000,000 when I won the Powerball.
But after just two years, I'm broke, I lost it all.
I bought expensive cars, mansions and a yacht.
I went broke partly because of the things I bought.
I also had family and friends begging at my door.
Two years ago I was rich, but now I'm dirt poor.
When it came to my money, I should've been tight.
But I was generous, I handed out money left and right.
I gave $250,000 to my church but ended up being sorry.
The preacher used my donation to buy himself a Ferrari.
I shouldn't have chosen to get my money in one lump sum.
Now I'm living in a cardboard box because I'm a ***.
I also lost money because the Government made me pay tax.
I wanted to go after those Government Officials with an ax.
The Government took the money and I told them where to stick it.
If you want to avoid being in my shoes, stop buying lottery tickets.
John F McCullagh Dec 2011
He was younger than me.
He was a Prince of the “Street”.
Folks would all stop and listen
whenever he deigned to speak.
To him profit came easy
And with it came fame,
(while I cursed my bad luck
at the Powerball game.)
Yet I’m still living and breathing,
while he’s stiff as a board.
His heirs all lining up
to ravage his hoard.

It’s said he had millions,
yet, as you can see,
they could not buy him health
Or even longevity.
He saw the sun set
But did not see it rise.
Was it pangs of regret?
-Of Thrombosis he died.

First they’ll hold a grand funeral
with much mindless palaver.
Then, like other such maggots,
They’ll feast on the cadaver.
They’ll Jet here and there
To Paris or Rome
Drink fine wines and whiskeys
but seldom at home.
Their meals will all be
Five star and five course
and all at the expense
of one excellent corpse.
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2018
for Lys


1. Born and bred
2. Do you like it?
it is: as harsh as a tundra, as dangerous as a jungle, as hot as Singapore on a bad summer Sunday, not as mean as the West Side of Chicago gangbangers random violence, but much more beloved as a target by terrorists, a grrrreat place if u got money to burn, or know how to live off the land on five bucks a day and don’t mind standing in line for days to get cheapo tickets to Hamilton and can learn to like standing room at the Metropolitan Opera

the subways ****, most people are overly wired, highly competitive and peace of mind sometimes come when you cut somebody out of a parking spot or slide into that last seat in a. crowded bus cutting off that little old lady who crowns your success with an eloquent and loud *******, god bless her!

if you slip in the slush and fall to the ground five maybe 10 people will pick u up, call you an ambulance or wipe you down and if you are cute and single offer you their real cell phones numbers

the people are now normal, as in normally crazy, and the average speed is less than 4 mph in midtown and u gotta go five and god help you if you think you can walk in a meandering course while looking up you will be anointed publicly as a ******* tourist

where that gorgeous girl is a Broadway dancer who is likely broker than even you and listens to your spiel and shtick with an open mind if it means you can supply her with a decent dinner and some glimmers of decent possibilities

where romance dies by a thousand cuts a thousand times of day but oft is anew reborn walking home in deep despair cause of that ugly tail that your coat is too small to cover and if you are brave and keen and value yourself  the chances of getting what you want without debasing yourself are much much better than the
Powerball lottery by a city mile!

Do I like it?
it is all I know, shoot no clue, like most places, happiness is 98% *what’s within you no matter where you are
, 1% luck and 1% learning not to give a fk or rather to mastering the skill of letting go of crap quicker and quicker and telling the truth to your heart

3. Could anyone like it?
well new rats arrive daily as thousands depart for less stressful pastures. And who wants to live in a pasture? But the true answer is no, just anyone could not like it but a million someones do...maybe the answer is in of  my 1500 + poems and with a little bit of luck you will find a few where my love/hate for the city comes shining through and get a better answer... so it is past midnight on a Sunday and I looked quickly

try this

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1619503/2-years-ago-manhattan-vignettes/

or this

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/664969/a-commissioned-poem-just-another-nyc-saturday/

or this

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/459773/911-distilled/

or this

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1512685/a-love-poem-lush-is-the-quietude-of-the-early-saturday-city-morn-­true-quiet/

or this

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1621192/artist-working-by-candle-light-neon-lights-coffee-shop-lights/

or this

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/794183/the-creed-of-new-york-new-york/
city of confusion and disorientation
exists not in pixels or imagination,
but in full color absurdity

close upon each other,
we hear remotely adjoining living lives thru thin walls,
humanoids of ilk and kith,
yet say nothing volubly lest we
discomfiture confirm each other's existence

there is much sound, noise, confusion,
masquerading to cover an agreed upon
profundity of silence
between every living individual,
even if blood, bed shared

all silently hum the city's song,
perhaps, hoping someone will hear us,
proving us right, or wrong, or extant,
this being not a credo, but a creed

if no one hears us,
no matter,
we hear our own machinery humming,
loud and clear,
for awhile,
it is sufficient
"I love...to scribe about
the city I love
where I was born,
schooled and fooled in,
by many a woman.

The city where I named
and raised my children.

Will probably die in
this city, and when
I am long forgot,
my name never uttered,

you,

as my designated
rememberer,
will think of me
whenever someone says,
he was such a rascal
Sharon Talbot Dec 2018
Live blog: Romney and Stanton vie for Iowa win.
Dead heat in the dead of winter
What do the Iowa results really mean?
That Romney's less of a robot than he seems?

Oh, by the way: replacing a bulb, can save you 50 dollars or more!
But it'll cost you ten times as much, at your hardware store.
Starbuck's hikes prices despite the lull,
People stupidly betting on Powerball,
Selma Hayek's trending, y'all!
(We don't know why).

But what's all that compared to shootings?
Soldiers flying and not being sniffed,
Suspects nabbed in Utah killings,
And GOP runners had another tiff.

Personally, I'm more fascinated,
In the Aussie hybrid sharks!
This might mean global warming's overrated,
Or that animals are way smart.

Mideast peace-talks stalled, I read.
Have I not read this before?
Oh, yeah, back in 1972.
When psychos killed athletic Jews,
Who might win
And Olympic village was off view,
While the Israelis dragged people in.

That year, Nixon was re-elected
And we thought we'd never see worse,
Yet now the nation is infected
With a yellow-haired, inhuman curse.
Blog goes to sleep...

Begun long ago and finished in 2018
I was just fiddling around angrily during the 2nd Bush election and later, kept adding to this. You can tell who the latest victim of my ire is!
(ah...a flickr of nostalgia washes over my psyche for those days of yore, when going to the local playground ranked as a big deal to offspring well prepared for young adulthood).

Paradise visage and eyes a bulge with dollar signs
   whets imagination with PowerBall ticket bought
expect the usual outcome after next drawing
   to yield monetary naught
temptation for instant millions

   human foible to reach for elusive *** of gold
   streak of universal desire
   for potential wealth overtakes rational self
   with delusions of grandeur caught

allow, enable and provide flirtation
   with fate to experience rich draught
envision emancipation from penury
   a distant battle fought
and tacked hard scrapple existence wrought.
 
at the core
legal tender in such precious chronically
   in short supply within this family of four
though times eye desire at least

   another son or daughter more
at such urge (long silenced of this
   ram by ewe to who) did vehemently roar

boot budding young girls
   I whole-heartedly love and adore
who rush into my arms whenever back
   from trivial pursuits

   nearly squeezing out digested gore
when casually and nonchalantly
   turn the key to open the front door
akin to the finest crafted clock work

   to sound the time of day
   they still dance and frolic like kittens or puppies
   bring newspaper and slippers

   sharing silly concocted faux pa lore
inviting me to play make believe games on the floor
enjoying revelry without keeping score
yet…creating memories I will forever store.
 
Financial straits
   make our existence hand to mouth
all grandiose aspirations to succeed
   in life frequently head south.
 
Creative endeavors find excitement
   and linguistic pleasure
   thru the attempt to pry
   poem or prose from mind

deliberate semblance to communicate
   and extract idea from cranial rind
words that synchronize suitably
   in poetic third eye bind

readers may espy hidden puns
   within this rhyme lined
with challenges or commiserate
   and complement via words of positive kind

although large sum of money would be  a dog send
   delivered by one blessed angel in disguise
   redemption and salvation considered thankful find.
 
Much rather be cursed with excess wealth
Deliverance to life, liberty and mental health
Depravity foreign concept never to rue by stealth.
Unpolished Ink Feb 2020
Smooth

Sometimes round

Sound as a pound

A chamber for nesting

For sitting and resting

Awaiting the call

An egg has it all
JV Beaupre Jul 2021
The Venetian Red fish
Slithers through the magentic sky,
Sniffing the violence of electromagnetic vibrations,
I, behind the branchia, spur her/him on,
Far away, the sight of thunder rumbling and static,
Feeling the inky indigo of the mirage of toothy desire.
Hearing cold textures of slippery fishy scales,
Tasting the black velvet Jesus, Elvis, and Nixon,
Our banner.

Oh, that can’t possibly happen said Jonah,
As he was enveloped by exactly that,
A piercing cacophony of clashing color
That resolved itself into the image of his ex.
No more, no more.

The red fish jumped the river Stix,
Halting at the 7-11 from hell.
A seventh circle infernal Powerball anyone?
A hellish scratchie tempts my soul.
But my lucky number is a binary: 1-oh,1-oh, 1-oh.
That’s hell for you, unsymmetrical.

Needed, perhaps a chance encounter,
with an itinerant puzzle person
Would they sort the senses and find truth?
Could that help or should it?
He winks and I don’t believe her.

A stolen kiss thrown
At the 2018 Little League Playoffs at Southaven, Mississippi
Still echoes in their brain pans and mine too.
The dull stylus of dangerous thrills
scratched my pancreas as Jim shoveled his lunch.
But I have better manners than that.

In the chaotic magentic atmosphere,
I mount my scarlet stead,
and move on-- as you should too.
Adieu. Adieu. Adieu.
Just a bit of nonsense.
The inspiration was a fish in H. Bosch's "Temptation of St Anthony" which hangs in the Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga in Lisbon
(randomly drawn years gone by
without gifted with pipe dream *** of gold)

Paradise visage and eyes
   a bulge with dollar signs
   whetted imagination
   PowerBall ticket bought

expected usual outcome
   after next drawing
   to yield monetary naught
temptation for instant millions

   human foible to reach
   elusive *** of gold
   streak of universal desire  
   potential riches
   overtook rational self

   delusions of grandeur caught
aloud, enabled and provided flirtation
   illusory fate to experience rich draught
envisioned emancipation
   nondenominational penury
   distant battle fought
attacking hard scrapple existence wrought!

At core
precious legal tender chronically
   short supply within
   this (then) family of four
though hard times, eye desired at least
   another son or daughter
urge (long silenced this ram

   ewe who) vehemently didst roar
boot budding young girls
   I whole-heartedly loved and adored,
who rushed into opened arms,
   whenever back from trivial pursuits

   nearly squeezing out digested gore,
when casually and nonchalantly
   turned key to open front door
akin to finest crafted clock work
   sounding time of day

   they danced and frolicked
   like kittens or puppies
   bringing newspaper and/or
   dem golden (ha) slippers
   sharing silly concocted faux pa lore

inviting me to play
   make believe games on floor
enjoying revelry
   without keeping score
yet…creating memories
   I forever store!  

Financial straits
   made unsettled existence hand to mouth
   fantastically generated grandiose aspirations
   successful life frequently headed south.

Creative endeavors
   found excitement and linguistic pleasure
   thru attempt to pry poem
   or prose from mind
deliberated semblance to communicate

   and extract idea from cranial rind
words synchronized suitably
   in poetic third eye bind
readers may espy hidden puns
   within rhyme lined

with challenges or commiserate
   and complement
   via words of positive kind
although large sum of money
   would be dog send

   delivered by one
   blessed angel in disguise
   redemption and salvation
   rued bing considerate regarding
   thankful escape out poverty grind.

Much rather be cursed
   with excess wealth
deliverance to life,
   liberty and mental health
depravity foreign concept
   never to rue by stealth,
nor can money buy spiritual wealth!
MS Lim Jan 2016
Old MacDonald had a farm
A very pretty wife too
They had 20 kids
Cows, chickens and ducks quite a few.

Old MacDonald no longer has a farm
He has donated it to charity
Yesterday he won the US Powerball
Total prize of USD 500 million-biggest in US history.
Prevarication permits pretend perception, presenting
piquantly piqued, pimply pimping *******, plucky
pulchritudinous previously pusillanimous, prevalently
puckish, psychic packman, pokemon playing proletarian

puppeteer pygmy, peevishly *****, plummy, plumy,
pompously pushy, pampered, prefabricated pinchbeck,
pokily plying plowshear, plodding peregrination, pied
piper pitifully peppy pornographic potato pealing,

parsimonious paradoxical protagonist, proposing
preposterous panicky pacification plots, prioritization
pertinent penultimate peroration, perhaps perceiving
perjuring, perplexing, perverting puzzling pronouncements

projecting pulsating pixelated pulpy pinball pinging
packets prompting pacific, poetic, phlegmatic purplish
psoriasis plagued, plumbum pallor pallid, Paleolithic
protuberance pronounced, psychosomatic prohibitionist,

polarizing perfunctory peculiarly progressive, patriotic
postmodern pathologically proud paternal panache,
peripatetic panaceas portraying prescient perfidious
puerile president, predominantly proposing parochial

principles, plenty public parking, purposefully
promoting pharisee phalanxes, pilates practicing
paragons, perennially peaceably proficient protesters,
profitable polygamy, pugnacious pitbull powerball

players, pandering polyandry, propagating professional
palindrome pensive peeping people, peddling,
proselytizing predicating prostitution, proliferating
phenomenally, populist persona promulgated peyote

phased physicians pioneering prescription promoting
paradisiacal pricey photographic pictures, placating
phrenetic physical perturbation partaking place
purchased (paid paltry pennies) por palatial piazza.
Last year blessed me like no other,
Though past sins need absolution,
In my hoping for another,
I offer these resolutions:
Continue to write to inspire.
Keep after curiosity.
Win Powerball and then retire.
Adore those who inspire me.
Take pride in watching my sons grow.
Love them through the mistakes they’ll make.
My books featured on a talk show.
Act with intent for Heaven’s sake.
Achieve integrity in love.
Try to see more without my eyes.
Get weight down instead of above.
Tell my faithful heart fewer lies.
Resolve traumas at years ago.
Listen more closely to God’s voice.
More west coast to avoid the snow.
Don’t waste a moment to rejoice.
So thank you for the things I’ve seen,
Keep in touch in Twenty Nineteen.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
About four plus weeks after
frazzling fiasco from friggin fraudsters
white knight still mourns swindled money
Lynne Costello Senior Civil Investigator
(assistant to Philadelphia attorney general)
unable to recoup forfeited funds.

While holed up in castle keep,
(albeit fetchodit fuming father
cursing out blimey scamming creep),
I replay nightmarish scenario
that disallows me to sleep
inconsolable tears yours truly doth weep.

Though secular humanist,
nevertheless yours truly (me)
beseeches a higher power
something in the order of

voltages ranging from
115,000 to 230,000 VAC
Voltage Alternating Current
or Extra-High voltages ranging
from 345,000 to 765,000 VAC.

Courtesy malefactor left me bereft
cyber criminal shrewdly,
meticulously, hucksterish antagonistic
online criminal with deft
once again revisiting series of theft
designed warp and weft
traitor to the cause of honesty
wove webbed, whirled wide net
pounced (visualize yourself analogous
recipient of lionize) de León.

I implicate myself aside from bogeyman
being submissive at financial havoc
fake Macbook Pro wizard
posturing as legitimate
Apple computer technician did wreak
more than laptop malfunction, he did tweak.

Any number of "red flags"
clear as day in retrospect
stand out like a sore thumb
with self reproach
and attendant emasculation
"how could I be so dumb,"
not ready to concede desperation
to scrounge around
for every little monetary crumb
when "Que Sera, Sera
(Whatever Will Be, Will Be)."

Resultant severe emotional grip
courtesy financial fallout
fantasy thought arise
regarding being cursed with
purchasing winning Mega-million
and powerball ticket,
hence the following fantasy.

Lucky lottery winner
…and the super powerball
and mega millions jackpot winner is…
from Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.

No way.

This must be some off-season
April fool and/or Halloween trick or treat.

Yea right.

In my dreams.

A voice inside urges
“take another look.”

Yet upon frenziedly staring
(for what seems like an eternity)
at the matching numbers
(per tickets for both
record breaking sweepstakes)
no denying that every numeral
exactly the same as those randomly drawn.

I don’t know whether to cry or scream.

But, if held at pen point and forced
to splutter out how such winnings
would be managed (from mine mouth
to God's ears) such fantasy will be elaborated
within literary exercise
(just for the purposes of this writing contest),
I now let finger flit to and fro,
hither and yon across qwerty keyboard.

Though a pauper, no ambition
could goad me to live like a king.

The immediate step would be
to seek professional top-notch guidance
from a sterling gold reputable investment banker.

He or she to be a staunch advocate
of wise management
sans such substantial windfall.

Consent to be given for a chunk
to be divested into high yield
money market funds with a modicum of risk.

Other dollops off currency denouement
elected to be doled into
on demand personal funding accounts.

A suitable proportion thence hedged
toward monies for thee spouse and
two darling daughters.

Said wife would be awarded ample chunk
to meet her present
and future financial needs and/or wants.

Since she tends to be tempted
to spend any cash on her purse (son)
plus pose (on bended knee) plaintive pleas
for this husband to drain his meager resources,
a ceiling limit incorporated
within said deposited arrangement.

Each progeny (both charming young women)
established with academic, catastrophic, exotic…
healthy portfolios.

Upon reaching age of twenty-one
release of full access to aforementioned bonds,
dormant fiduciary interest bearing,
known, noteworthy
Yankee Doodle dandy legal tender.

Even though total claim to do as they wish
with apportioned denominational millions.

A caveat will include disallowing banal,
flagrantly haphazardly spent (even though
exercising a spending spree not illegal),
the contractual obligation affixing
each offspring will witness the forfeiture
from fathers’ instantaneous famed fortune.

Self imposed restrictions viz electronic mechanisms
(probably at least one computer software application
(probably dashed off by kindergartner during recess)
will bar this fanciful papa
to blithely act frivolously,
yet a predetermined
monthly allotment made accessible.

No spending spree will occur sans yours truly
until bulwark of allocation, dedication, gratification…
securely settled analogous
to digital electronic gatekeepers,
which strategy (affording truckload of dollars
to appease capitalistic cravings)
still replete with common cents paid out
to select charities and non-profit organizations.

These agencies to focus on animal welfare
of genus and species besides **** sapiens,
eco-friendly.

Environmental utilities, educationally
non-discriminatory colleges/universities,
and other copasetic, democratic, ecologic,
holistic, non-partisan opportunistic
politically welcome think tanks.
Concoxide Jan 2018
Everyone swimming
in the confidence of their own assertions.

Yet no one holds the winning powerball.

no one at all.

we've just these crude drawings
That imitate

a scratch and sniff.
Lake Jun 2019
this is the greatest time of my life
and there's nowhere i'd rather be
one day i'll look back on the highlights
and miss when i was free

when i wake up in the night
arm reaching for the light
i think of where i'll be
but i don't want to see

too many choices, but not enough time
i think i'm losing my mind
each one could be the worst of them all
my mental powerball

sometimes i think i try way too hard
when there's nothing i can do
i like to think that i can still restart
but there's too much to lose
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2018
A ticket lay there waiting
  untold riches bye and bye

The Powerball on Wednesday
  buying freedom with its lies

All barriers seemed broken through
  the world at your command

Perspective dying, hopes run wild
  control spun out of hand

The numbers tell the story
  but the payoff tells the tale

Be careful what you wish for
  —as the raindrops turn to hail

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2018)
ZACK GRAM Oct 18
I'll shut this **** down

All 4 in a row matched..
Number 5 ball off..
Powerball correct
5 outta 6 numbers perfect match
1 ball off
1 billion lottery
I won 1 million
They lied to me
They stole my ticket
I got $0

Guess what

Tax time

I want 2 million deposit into my account

Or I'm going Franky
Noone safe
You rob me
You might go extinct
M.O.A.B. ******* in the WH
Doggone poet laureate
wannabe his index finger wags
nonverbally naysaying those,
who doubt mine posthumous
fame and fortune, which snags
eternal renown within pantheon
of storied writers such foolhardiness nags
yours truly keeps bad company with hags
unemployed day after Halloween,
whose outsize egos deflate
analogous to activated airbags.

Apology in order implying
aforementioned slander of witches
despite abandoning (me) mummy for dead
subsequently necessitating zombies
of Sugar Hill rushing to ominous scene
doubled over while laughing in stitches
unwittingly jump/kick starting
slapstick spiel opening up
supporting improvisational pantomime niches
allowing, enabling, and providing opportunities
fostering the ability to ad lib:
abbreviation for Latin "ad libitum"
unexpected theatrical glitches.

Creative wordsmith frequently
replays silent film
constituting mein kampf
taking lock, stock and barrel
of untapped natural resources,
thus he tries to discipline himself
assigning mental, physical
and spiritual tasks
to challenge body, mind,
and spirit respectively
indifferent to superiority
of others similar talents
verily, specifically, and
particularly crafting poems.

I envy those considerably years
née decades younger where
access to sophisticated technology
offers ability to brainstorm with their
multitude of social media platform
nowadays mostly wireless paraphernalia
can launch instant webbed wide world
devout following bearing witness
to hypothetical individual
gratuitously emulating wing and a prayer
lest he/she disappoints,
hence experiencing unwelcome jeer
if not earning bajillion dollars
while still a babe at *****
distraught and filled with despair.

Topsy turvy global times as sons
and daughters rake in predominant wealth
courtesy commodification of their name brand
if necessary utilizing
advertising subliminal stealth
messaging think uber twittering, snapchatting,
to lyft buzzfeeding, et cetera acclaim
documenting fitbit
hulu jimmying livingsocial
thru sickness and/or health.

Peculiarities (mine) hashtagged as weird
cause pecuniary circumstances
find me poor as a Unitarian Church mouse
yet if/when being triangulated by poverty
unexpectedly and suddenly squared
with windfall such as winning
the humongous Powerball
(October thirty first 2022)
strangers claiming kinship neared
brazenly approach unnamed sexagenarian
pencil neck geek long haired
attempting to become best buddies
literary endeavor feeble effort
conclusion blithely aired.
And in a pinch reluctantly talk to yours truly,
a very reformed Jew rarely attends Synagogue,
(he who cannot be named) hails from Prague
offtimes provides a wonderful monologue,
whereby his eloquence usually finds me agog.

Propinquity between scribe
of Schwenksville (Pennsylvania)
heavily shuns engaging in diatribe
loathes bombastic, egotistic,
imperialistic, narcissistic, terroristic...
zealot trumpeting art of the deal
if necessary even coaxing bribe.

I would be up to the task and not averse
to extemporize unless stage fright did curse
ambition to chat up intellectual conversation
and/or solemnly soliloquizing regarding
recent deceased driven away courtesy hearse
(yup another coronavirus/COVID-19 statistic)

despite heroic measures
exerted by selfless nurse,
whose tears trickled down flushed cheeks,
while her lips she did purse
methinks she wondered if pandemic
would get worse.

Oratorical predilections quake
these lovely bones, which at lxii ache
after lugging a load of Bananas
after me and the missus did betake
ourselves to purchase said fruit at Landis
(841 Gravel Pike, Schwenksville, PA 19473).

The main rhyming reason
for jaunt at aforementioned market
unquenchable thirst for riches to slake
aware improbable odds winning powerball
nevertheless bought two tickets,
fat and/or slim chance reality would wake
one average dirt poor Joe Biden his time.

A lofty song Enya doth sing
plying her lilting heavenly voice
titled "Marbled Halls"
for no rhyme nor reason came to mind,
perhaps momentarily fantasizing
how gobs of moolah tickle me fancy,
although the lyrics strongly in apropos
especially opening line -
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassals and serfs at my side...

Such pipedream regarding
winning bucket loads of cash,
would make monetary woes
in an instantaneous flash
mine dentures no longer
will futilely grind and gnash,
cuz I would undergo oral surgery
and simultaneously acquire

mush sought after gumption,
where dental implants
could offer million dollar smile
mastication boring full force
while I monstrously, yet easily mash
the most unpalatable pop slop
made with tender loving care
courtesy the missus.

Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors
play key role to alleviate paroxysms
debilitating bouts of anxiety and panic attacks
wracked these lovely bones
during their roaring twenties
severely impinging potential to relish
joys and sorrows present within mein kampf

vast stretches of life sabotaged
courtesy mental health challenges,
thus I acknowledge miracle of modern medicine
particularly prescription medication
(iterated within first line of this verse),
which allows, enables and provides
blessed escape illness noggin tortured.
strewn into a bajillion little pieces

Unexpected largesse
yours truly patiently waits,
a metaphor of my dire financial straits
courtesy papa's unsuspecting muse
the missus, this wordsmith notates
unwittingly linkedin to his misfortune,
a situation he hates,
especially, an unavoidable crisis,
whereby passage of time abates
negligible onus of penury.

Soon after surrendering
(viz laundering) cash to bitcoin
immediately realized sinister trap
scammer prepared me to enjoin
egregious outcome surpassing
severe case of acne
treatment courtesy isotretinoin.

My ordinarily clear complexion turned wan
imprecation triggered suicidal ideation
overdosing on medication
escape from absolute zero
vanished capital pennilessness *******
welcoming self induced mortality did spawn.

Though weeks elapsed
since scammer
(smoked top of line cigars,
and/or quaffed vintage
amber liquid of the gods
signaling snagging a poor sucker)
made out like a bandit,
the squandered money
I still bemoan,

a grown man doth still groan
moroseness seeps
within his lovely bones
witnessing him curling
into fetal position versus lying prone
forever and anon envisioning himself
cast into the outer limits
of the twilight zone.

As a fool hardy way
to assuage loss,
where illusions of grandeur stray,
I regularly purchase lottery tickets
either Mega Million or Powerball
imagining being the lucky winner
then livingsocial
as a bachelor farmer in Norway

chomping down a delicious plateful
of powder milk biscuits
after countless hours pitching hay
while custom made robot named Barbie
adeptly programmed to prepare
Lefse, Krumkake, Lutefisk,
and Raspeball/Komle/Klubb,
she also doubles up as the abbé
of my fortress domicile.

Ha... an overactive imagination to boot
healthy escape from the maws of destitution
nevertheless, one old baby boomer coot,
who can prevaricate
knowing full well nobody
(especially the folks
from Lake Wobegon) cannot dispute
these marvelous turns of phrases I execute
while listening to The Magic Flute
an opera in two acts
by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
to a German libretto

by Emanuel Schikaneder
and of course after wolfing down
Norwegian cuisine listed above,
I will need (sorry to be cheeky) exercise
thy well endowed glute
(short for gluteus muscles)
a group of muscles
that make up the buttock area,
which group consists
of the gluteus maximus,
gluteus medius, and gluteus minimus.
Aside from vehicular insurance, you
must be aware another
reason car ownership
finds me being privy
to possessing Hyundai Sonata (2009)
title purposelessness too

raising a futile cry and hew
stems from accursedly unexpected
mechanical malfunctions due
to arise unpredictably,
thus before bidding thee adieu
lemme share another source,

plus absolute zero clue,
how I will pay for necessary part
(linkedin with brake system)
exacerbates psychological glue
mean us - as addressed
in previous poems

wretched formative years I drew
majority of existence, now
lemme enlighten how a new
whistling noise detected earlier
by this gentile (actually atheist) Jew
(December 26th, 2018),

yea me Match Chew
felt his heart sink,
and mine key intuition knew,
there goes social security
disability - yepper flew
right out the window

good as flushing down the loo,
cuz acute hearing discerned
an unfamiliar sound which drew
audiological attention particularly
to passenger rear wheel,
analogous to bleating ewe

where without wooly sheepish
doubt, I smelled burnt offerings and heard
distinct noise unfamiliar and new,
which automotive distress immediately
altered my epidermal hue
cuz checking account still in ICU

(prognosis grim) like an
overworked choo choo,
thus emotional state now going
haywire hullabaloo
finding writing rhyming
poem meagerly sue

tub bull and wishfully, pointlessly,
and dreamily cross fingers,
and toes to rue
min ate ting winning

powerball jackpot and moo
hoove varying into lap of living
socially within human zoo
instead of feeling boiled
for cannibal stew!

— The End —