"snidely" poems
Sickness listens to us sigh.
Sniggering snidely as we die.
Seeking our soul as we comply.
But still I live
And yet I am not alive.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 8:02 PM UTC
flesh smirks cautiously
silent beehives squelching elk
leaps glumly, mules snarl
bluebird builds, rigid
foundlings disappear lamely
incarnations peck
raw conjurers acts
devious shady agile
rosemary boasts, stare
starflower hovers
depression gives birth snidely
harps romping mustang
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
She arrives in high stilletto’s
And a miniskirt so taught
That the boys are all distracted
And our job becomes a rort,
And the office girls get ******
And production spirals down
So then our new Middle Manager
Rolls up her sleeves and goes to town....
She sticks her oar in frequently
And stands with jutted hip,
She’s territorial dynamite
And serves us gloating lip.
She often curries favour
With Department Heads and such
And makes a fuss at our expense
Which irritates so much!
She has a way to circumvent
The types she will not face,
In using her authority
To snidely put them in their place.
Her manner is too sharp
And too dismissive for my taste
And the condescending smile
Has me grinding teeth to paste.
And the way she stands and taps her toe
And glares beneath her brows
Has the office juniors panicking
And avoiding, as allows.
There’s an issue over paper
And the telephone account
And the petty cash, though balanced,
Is a questionable amount.
Historically our working week
Has employed a give and take
With an easy flexibility
That allows us all a break,
But the new Middle Manager
Has reversed the mode of work
So that everyone competes
And the roster’s gone beserk!
Her manner’s often strident
With a whiplash to her voice
And the snarl of her vindictiveness
Leaves us all with little choice
But to bend our backs to labour,
Work our fingers to the bone
And suffer her till knock off
Then, thank God, we’re fleeing home!
There’s a memo in the “In box”
Rumour has it, from on high,
That due to overdue restructuring,
That some redundancies are nigh.
And though there’s great reluctance
And some measure of regret...
It seems our new Middle Manager
Has got her notice...Sorry Pet!
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
15 January 2011
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 4:38 PM UTC
They dance tae boots n' cats
like ants being crushed by boots:
Squirming, wriggling, writhing
wae jaws scraping the flare.
They scurry like wee rats
under the ground in cahoots:
snidely sneaking, snitching
under the boots n' cats they blare.
"Boots n cats urr booming doon yer ears.
Boots n cats huv been oan repeat fur years.
Boots n cats will perforate yer ears.
Boots n cats huv been oan repeat fur years"
But then sumday changed the beat:
It Came in oan the and.
And everyone forgot how tae dance.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
Why do we ignore all these spoken words?
We've had
poets,
rappers,
artists,
and actors
*tell us as
it were.*
*Now I, myself, have spit one or two verse
and I need to let you know* I will be heard.
You call for a social media blackout and
there they sit thinking, " How absurd!"
But when it comes down to it
what do you do when there is
no reaction to your tear-filled words?
Is it because we have adapted to being so passive,
when there's **** murders, lynchings, and theft*
we just take it in passing?
Or is it because we can look the other way,
when the hands of a white man
take the life of a different ethnicity away?
Is it in relation to power?
*We close our eyes
and pray.*
But where is the action
for justice in this final hour?
What is it that you do to help this land?
Other than observe and comment snidely
on your fellow man?
It is no tragedy for a loss of life?
While you ponder your "newsfeed"
via social media
via your Iphone
via your wifi
....
Consider the point when you lost touch with real life.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
***** the wil-'o-the-wisp sadly sat at home
for he was young and much too small
to roam the swamp alone
He wanted to be an elusive light
mysterious, misguiding and haunting the night.
„Oh swamp“ he whined „it all goes so slow
I don't want to stay home – please help me to grow!“
„Shut up, little ones, enough of that weeping“
bubbled the swamp and then started sleeping
„Oh not again“ the old tree moaned as ***** burst out in tears
and raised his branches left and right
to cover up his ears.
Meanwhile a burglar with Police had a battle
with a big bag of loot he had to skedaddle
into the swamp and lost the way.
He watched out for a guiding light
but all he found was crying *****
(wil-o'-the whisping really not bright)
„What's that?“ the burglar snidely asked
„a lousy glooming firefly?
can't even light my cigarette
get out of my way little bug“
and proceeded to pass by.
This now was too much for Willy's pride
(teenagers often freak out)
He drew himself to his fullest height
and he shouted loud:
„listen you mean and human thing – I am no dim-lit light!
Beware of the rage of an wil-o'-the wisp!“
and then he run completely wild
„Hear what I will bring to you
first death then pain and sorrow
I'll **** you first then chase you down
for you there's no more tomorrow
I'll lead you into deepest swamp to a puddle of mud
and when you start to drown in it – I'll watch you in cold blood“
(if we were picky in logic and order we surely now have to complain
but let's close an eye for he is still very young – back to the story again)
Inspite all efforts and Willy's threats
the burglar did not catch a word
(wil-o'-the-wisping as language is not very common
and therefore not often heard)
Let's say (to help our ***** a bit)
the burglar was slightly confused
so nothing much happend
until the swamp woke up
and swamp was not amused
„Who dared to disturbe my holy sleep?“
he blubbered with utmost grim
Willy's finger pointed out to the burglar then
and he sheepishly squeaked „that was him!“
Swamp did not hesitate too long
burglar sank into swamp to a place deep and stealthy
(for medical reasons we have to admit
this can't be considered as healthy)
In the next days ***** did not no more complain
to spend some more time at home
as he learned one thing this very day:
there are many ways that lead to Rome.
(©Heike Borgard 2014)
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
You chided and misguided--
Sighed and chided snidely--
While I stood there and deified:
Your opinion was once so sanctified
That it petrified and putrefied
'Til I was drawn to suicide.
And I won't lie,
I doubt that you'd have even cried.
Now this patricide's not emblemized;
Not glorified nor a source of pride.
It's just that I've been rectified;
I'm satisfied and verified.
You see, old man, your claims have been denied.
I stride beside a stronger pride,
We're unified, not terrified,
And, were you here, I'd just...
Laugh.
Sure,
We simplify and vilify,
All that we fear, but I--
I can't bring myself to cry;
I'll no longer will myself to die--
Because, in the end I'm just too high
To even look you in the eye.
I've modified and purified.
And, while you're compelled
to sit and hide,
I'm glorified--self deified--
And your podium's is now occupied
By the one who you once toxified.
And NONE of it's been for you.
No, old man, it's not for you!
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
Don't Worry Nell
I sometimes get confused and I'm not real bright
but my heart is of gold and I'll do what is right
chasing down bandits and doers of evil
like Snidely Whiplash but not Evel Knievel
I ride thru the country on my gallant steed
searching for damsels who are in need
I don't know why but it seems somewhat bleak
some of these ladies get captured each week
like my girl who I love her name is Nell
sweethearts since grade school out in the dell
her daddy is my boss he's the chief inspector
and it is my duty my charge to protect her
but in every episode of our little cartoon
she gets captured by that honry baboon
Snidely Whiplash trying to cast his spell
I'll save you again don't worry Nell
Dudley Do-Right aka Gomer LePoet ....
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 10:34 AM UTC
Evelina’s fence of lichened cedar
slouches at the wetland border
her willows wildly weep
on silken cattail shoulders
the neighbors say she’s crazy
snidely call her Javelina
she's sane as any one of them
this brilliant winter morning
Evelina speaks of weather and dogs
hers, a Chihuahua named Fawn
mine, a Frenchie named Sparky
the weather, typically Northwest
in parting, sculpted driftwood
spiraling tornadic rings gifted
between palms roughly
worn by time and sea
Evelina’s yard is thick with trees
the neighbors want cut down
for now, she’s doing all she can
just holding swampy ground
each morning wakes triumphant
to beachcomb on the shore
pockets weighed with treasure
this moment, nothing more
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 9:58 AM UTC
The walls drip yellow.
My teacup is ridden
with thoughts driven
from buzzing and Queens.
They claim glory.
A skyscraper tastier
than dew from street sewer
with gray, AM haze
as people jut sides
to climb, slip snidely
atop, cut voices in lies,
rushed by without flicker,
a thought for
ever-blackened drop
of dark roasted, cig-toasted
coffee drowned by a cup.
So, taste it now,
your lips of grounds
in café chair
on dirtied walk
is unaware
of rays in sky
and earth below
and earth below
the pounding thump
that make World go.
Grabbed honey-stuck tips
from a table of glass
and sweet, sutured lips
from ignorance.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 8:14 AM UTC
Dastardly Deeds
I love doing dastardly deeds
capturing damsels creating distress
tying them to the railroad tracks
while sneaking a peek up there dress
I'm evil and cruel and just so **** mean
I love making them cry and scream
holding them for ransom my ill gotten gains
while having my tea with strawberries and cream
if only I can hide them from the annoying mountie
who is always saving them and spoiling my bounty
yes Dudley Do Right he is my curse of foil
I'd like him feathered and rolled in oil
many things please me like baubles and beads
but nothing quite like dastardly deeds
Snidely Whiplash aka Gomer LePoet....
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 10:32 AM UTC
AN EVENING
At the time of evening
She was at opposite roof of him
And he was other side of road
Eyes were on each other
They were smiling for no reason.
Aware with the others, yet…
Hearts blooms when he sends flying kiss
She catches it
Cover her face with same hand.
When mislead wind play with her hair
That time her DUPATTA hovering
Making trouble
She tries it to hold properly
He smirked on her blend behavior
Girl snidely got angry
Stumpy turn around
Then he caught his ear with queer face
And she burst into laugh.
©copiright
SAddAM HuSeN
2014
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 4:16 AM UTC
Hmm, Christmas season has gone, good:
Presents shoved in drawers, some used, some abused,
Some never to see the light of day, until thrown away,
Others worn with delight, played with, till dawn’s first light,
We never even saw church, or thought of god, any god.
Why should we? Religious? Nah, not us, Darwin rules,
We had science in schools, we mocked the fools,
Who even imagined an all seeing deity, with awe,
Punishing and rewarding, everything he saw,
But we ate our fill, partied with skill, just avoided,
The need to **** especially to **** so messy,
Never allowing our own family blood to spill,
The clean up is swallowing, such a bitter pill.
Hmm, Easter approaches, we do it all again,
Stretching our family, what an awful strain,
Pretending we like, adore, the snidely sneers,
We just ignore, avoiding the drunk, such a bore,
While those of us, who are close, watch the chaos,
Feel the undertows of love streaming among us,
Binding the salient parts, making a family work,
For the kids, you see, a duty we, must never shirk,
Our only legacy, from the lives we have built,
Making us continue, regardless of the guilt,
Emotional alloys in alcohol flux, so easily spilt,
Another religious festival, who gives a toss?
A land of empty churches, not such a loss.
Hmm, Whitsun lies beyond Easter: what?
What is, Pentecostal; exactly? More rot?
Fifty days, oh yeah, makes sense, sure,
Makes nonsense, have faith, no defence,
We don’t care: get it! Got it? Well good!
No nailed-god; for heathens like us; we hijack,
As Christianity hijacked our paganism, yes!
Copied and pasted their festivals over others,
Took our sacred places, chanted in dulcet tones,
Where we gathered, running naked around stones,
Leaping cleansing fires, bumping ugly bones,
How’d you like that, preacher folk; in shock?
Burn in your created Hell; let heathen Earth rock.
© Paul M Chafer 2014
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:16 AM UTC
Do you know me?
"But of course! Where are my manners? I am what you make of yourself. I am what your greatest lusts under silver sheets. I am the Boogey Man. Simply put: I am desire."
I thought you would be more...
"Evil looking? Would you have me look like Snidely Whiplash with devil horns?"
But why are you here? I live a good life. My wife and children adore me, I am doing well at my job and my golf handicap s almost as good as the Pros!
"You want something! You always want something!"
(So I found out)
"Now was that so bad?"
No comment
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
An angel and a dog sat on a ridge.
Sun set before them;
Cloud stretched from earth to heavens;
Wind came up behind them;
And tousled their fur and feathers.
Said angel to dog,
"You lucky creature of earth.
You never made a choice,
Never had to doubt,
Never bore the burden
Of knowing what life's about."
Replied dog to angel,
"You lucky creature of heaven.
You got to make a choice,
Got to help a man,
Got to soothe his pain
As I but wish I can."
Said once more the angel,
"Of words of thanks
I have been deprived;
Yet you are scratched
And given rawhide."
Replied again the dog,
"Those same hands of man,
That pet and pacify,
My brothers sadly learned
They can beat and vilify."
Shouted angel at dog,
"Consider yourself lucky,
That body is all they mar;
You cannot even fathom
Torturous souls lost to dark."
Evenly dog to angel,
"Am I not of creation?
Am I not creation speaking?
I suffer the blood of my grandfathers,
And of my grandsons.
I know naught else,
But this I know completely."
Snidely angel in retort,
"I see suffering of thousands6—
All the world to lament;
Your grandfather and your son
Are not even a percent."
Somber the dog,
"And you are not an angel,
That is most evident.
Of your choice you live now,
As you died then.
Please leave me now this view,
And my destiny to man's kin."
The angel dropped to the raging sea below,
And flopped in the snow;
In rage he threw the hailstone back,
And before the tempest flew.
The dog sat a while longer,
And admired the peaceful scene;
Till a call came from the woods,
And he sped back with glee.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
You pillage our planet for profit
While Fake Fox News snidely jokes
An Inconvenient Truth is made-up
Calling the science a hoax
Climate-denying allies in congress
Big Oil’s purchase-every one
Selling our children’s future for profit
No turning back once it’s done
Rip the last drop of oil from our Mother
Privatise all our Public Lands
Open all wild places to destruction
Blood money into so few hands
Deny all the earthquakes and forest fires
Damage from your chemical fracking
That secret formula legislated
Without a majority’s backing
For those who work to safeguard our planet
I support the Standing Rock Sioux
So many assaults our outrage must save
Bristol Bay-stop Pebble Mine, too
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 10:56 AM UTC
A river flowed from the most inner depths of my soul
Tainted scars fixated themselves onto my already blemished face
The improbable transpired as my once wholesome heart sat on the floor aloof due to the fact that the one being that once breathed oxygen into my lungs now nefariously tore at my skin with his nails that were stained from the fluorescent blood that slowly escaped my debilitated body. He snidely smirked at his destruction
Before taking my final breath, screams escaped from my torn lips as I recounted the years of agony he bestowed on me
Then my motionless body was comforted by the fact that the suffering had finally ceased...
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
My last memory of you,
is watching you walk through a crowd,
not realizing who you were,
Having lost you momentarily,
thinking snidely,
as I watched you,
bogart your way through the herd,
"Why is this old man in such a hurry?"
Then I recognized the hat,
That shaggy hair,
once spun cornsilk,
now grayer than I'd realized.
The trousers,
baggy on your thin frame,
less than thin,
gaunt.
I couldn't shake,
The way your skin hung,
like parchment on jagged bone.
Frail...
The word ricocheted in my mind,
like a rogue pinball...
You had been under the weather.
Dimly,
I understood that.
There had been a battery,
of tests.
A barrage of them,
But for every differential diagnosis,
came a negative finding.
There was and all clear,
nothing to see here,
kind of trend.
Of course it was so.
You were indestructible,
A legend,
A mythical being,
A titanium Phoenix,
rising ever from the ash,
leaving steely slide guitar riffs,
and cold fire in your wake.
I never saw you again after that day,
my birthday.
The next week,
I forgot to call.
Father's Day.
Not because I hadn't thought of it,
The time just always gets past me.
It haunts me still.
We made plans later,
I would make it up to you.
Grilled steaks on the rooftop deck.
You were even on your way,
to reconciling with Dave,
making amends at long last.
The ship was righting itself.
I slept soundly that night.
Groggilly ignored my phone,
in the morning,
But it just kept ringing.
Reaching in the early light,
clumsily,
to check the time,
I thought,
"There had better be something wrong..."
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 9:07 AM UTC
Plan on online purchase?
Well, just click on the reviews.
It helps to hear what people say –
What have you got to lose?
Your mind, perhaps, for you’ll find out
Opinions vary widely,
From those described most glowingly
To others penned most snidely.
The bar graph gives percentages
Of how the ratings fare
So follow the conclusions
Or reject them, if you dare.
For everyone’s impressions
Will be different and distinct
And those who thus ignore them
Will be very soon extinct.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC