Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ignis Mar 2017
Look at the youth
Ever so uncouth
Yelling all the while

Look at the geezers
Asthmatic wheezers
Placing down restrictions

Our time is soon
Soon ends our noon
Teach the children our ways

Leave us be
So we may see
To find our own devices

I'd much rather
That you'd gather
And follow in our steps

Leave us alone
To find life's path on our own
Let us tend our own sails

We were never that dumb
We are not numb
In age and wisdom we improve

We will never be that dry
And yet with Time's sigh
The new are old
And repeat so bold
The words they sought to defy
Ryan O'Leary Feb 2021
Footpaths are not nearly as
polluted with dog pooh since
Covid 19 people are so scared
that they risk their lives on
the road rather than get vaped
by the exhales of old wheezers.

Pathetic, so gullible everyone,
just what was to be expected
hence the Orwellian concept
of a metaphorical farm which
he used to describe us humans
because it is what we are, sheep.

Who are the shepherds any why
has nobody equated the vaccine
with branding or dipping, I know
because they let the wool grow over
our eyes during Lockdown, shearing
sheds were closed on purpose.
Whilst Gandhi homosexed his homosexy **** across India's frontier
white captors shook under the Raj's prohibition of Leffe Blond beer
& proctologic probes, ****** lubes & other buggery-facilitating gear
that made it thrillin' to hang backside-up like a royal navy brigadier
whose furloughs were porked by a toothless, salt-gatherin' mutineer
reliant on the sedition of a Hindu ½-caste, 5th column pamphleteer
with the power to render a beggar from a Bihar Province financiere
in the wink of a pink eye dies a marginal, market-manglin' profiteer
castigated, beleaguered & burked afore burial in Earth's lithosphere
that tricks atop, beneath, under & underneath Indira's sloppy veneer
At a glance the dance pants of Vivian Vance were enhanced by ants
so as to put in a stance of advanced trance manse plants that prance
by ****** chance rants that lance the nuts of *****, slopes & slants
My *** belongs, along with my dead heart, to Anchorage, Nebraska
which is readily contused with the bloodily-bruised Omaha, Alaska
that's praised like Jesus God by tenants, overnight renters & leasers
& Texican-Haitian-barrio rats that spooks derogatorily call greasers
in Aussie hinterlands where flocks of sheep breed with gay fleecers
who flame out at 60 like Liberty Avenue's sick sock-cucking teasers
while they're sockdologizing a crooked clientele of ½-spent geezers
iced plenty for vicious crammin' into Maytag-coffin-model freezers
with a fiercely-frozen frigidity to flummox farting, chronic sneezers
tweezed out hollow sinus-cavity-wise by the rustiest of ol' tweezers
to the degree of dealin' coronaries to ***** Canary Island wheezers
unfit to dredge ditches, sew kites, buy radial tires, dig palm trees or
****** Miss America till she acquiesces without having to seize her

— The End —