Princess just wants a new car.
I have told her that hers will go far.
'Oh, it's really not cool
driving this crap to school.'
'Do I need that emotional scar? '
'The kids will all laugh at the rust.
When we race, I'll be left in the dust!
I will save up some cash
then we'll make a mad dash
to the car dealer surely you trust'.
'He will make us a wonderful deal
and I'm sure you will know how I feel.
I will love you so much,
My siblings... I won't touch.
Just get me behind a new wheel'!
Now she'll be cruisin in style.
She'll be happy for only awhile.
There will always be better
and we'll try hard to get her
a car that will make princess smile.
My hero is Henry David Thoreau
Rather than pay taxes, to jail he’d go
With Uncle Sam’s hand out
Thoreau turned up his snout
Refused the poll tax, voting he’d forego
An elderly woman across the street
High property taxes she could not meet
Her house went to foreclosure
Homeless, died of exposure
While the politicians live on High Street
Jonah dwelt in the belly of a whale
No taxes on such a home did prevail
But as soon as he got out
Jonah faced taxes no doubt
Moby Dick's "inner condo" is for sale
Entry for the Taxing Times contest
What will their eternity win?
Greed, as a vice makes some men grin.
Money is their God.
Poor folks bear guffawed.
Then games bring a different kingpin!
© June 1, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
At the risk of being called “rabble-rouser,”
I think poor old Barky Von Schnauzer,
should practice his aim,
his master to maim,
in the back end of his very best trousers!
My hero I would call dear old Barky,
if he could just muster the stealth of a sharky,
and covertly steer,
right straight for the rear,
of that great big old bag of malarkey!
I think I should send Barky a big four leaf clover,
so his bad luck would finally be over,
he could retire his fame,
move away, change his name,
to Bowser maybe Lassie or Rover!
Obviously I have been driven completely insane by that stupid t.v. commercial!
Happy St. Paddy's Day!
Oh, I am so angered, outraged and appalled
I think that I’m going bald
My dad had great hair
So I never really cared
But, to the hair club for men I am called
From my butt, they could extract some hair
Because I think I have so much to spare
But I cannot tell
Do you think it would smell?
Oh well I think, I’ll just leave it there
(Haiku)- * Motive, infidelity messing with the Queen Bee's Honey*
Queen Bee sits on throne,
Bumble and drone bees as one
Sample flowers dew
(Limerick) - *Admission of guilt leads to compensation*
Indeed this is how the story unfolds,
Pete said, "It's a poor rat with only one hole"...
Love had taught a sad lesson;
Divorce court was now in session,
Judge rules favor, Pete's pockets full of holes...
(Couplet) - *Take vows seriously payback often belongs to Spouse - Queen Bee*
Love said, "Pete too late you've opened your peepers"....
"Man, you should know it was cheaper to please her"!
Submitted for P.D.'s Divorce Club Contest (Haiku-Limerick-Couplet)
Let Him Go (Limerick)
Our mom told us how she chose her beau,
With an “eeny, meeny, miny, moe!”
Of course it didn’t last,
With a choice so half-assed!
But at least it taught the fool to grow!
Child Support (Haiku)
Had placed us in the middle
Of their divorce wars
He left her to fend for us alone, blasé with his remiss,
She chose to break this conjugal bond without marital bliss.
For (Destroyer ((Poet’s ~DIVORCE CLUB~ Contest
First he slinks off the field with a miss,
so forlorn, then the chance to do this.
Will we boo him to shame?
Will we drink to his name?
The ball is down. The kick is up! The kick is...
She's "concerned" that my mess is immense
"I work late." Is my latest defense
Yes, my yard is a wreck
But IF you must peck
Your big NOSE might get stuck in my fence
So you KNOCKED my troublesome trooper?
Tell ya what you prim party-pooper
I will warn you once more
Poke your head through MY door?
I'll slam it right square on your snooper
Each day foul critters infest our house
Though not by slipping in like a mouse
We just press a button
Or buy a subscription
To get news wrote or spoke by a louse
These creatures of the two legged kind
Try hard each day to persuade our mind
With sly information
That helps the causation
Of the falling apart of mankind
They tout the need for unearned welfare
Claim hard earned profits are so unfair
And granting amnesty
Is a good policy
Plus growing our debt is fine they swear
For those who work hard earning their way
Give what they can and put some away
Are sick of the slackers
Prodded by the backers
Whose aim is using half truths to sway
It’s hard to ignore those talking heads
But it’s not right to tear them to shreds
Yet there’s a solution
And with execution
We can spread liberty in their stead
We’ll put Obama pic’s and golf caps
Along with a taped speech that he yapped
In a human sized crate
Coz it’s time to create
A main stream media Have-A-Heart trap
Like it or not, these traps are humane
But anyways, we’ll have much to gain
So, once we have caught
All those who have brought
Disinformation causing brain drain
We’ll squeeze all of them in through a pipe
Along with politicians who hype
Into a sphere of the livable type
In there they can tax to the extreme
And promote their harmful fairness schemes
But when they’re out of dough
They will lip read our NO!
Since their bubble is a sound proof dream!
Nikki was an illegitimate child.
She grew up fast, she grew up wild.
She ran away from home at age sixteen.
A pimp killed her when she turned eighteen.
This is a cautionary tale of a throwaway child.
Thaddeus Dowdell was a right proper chap,
Who said pip pip, tally ho and the rest of that crap.
He married a young lady just as arrogant as he,
She looked down her nose at rabble such as we.
Thankfully, both were hacked to death by a crazy ninja Jap.
They assure you when they take your case
they will put your world right back in place.
So you shoulder the cost,
then they tell you: "We lost."
with such touching dismay on their face.
RIPAE BENI DEAU VER
In modus fasciculumque Brady pus.
Rogationes, confractum egemus.
Ripa nostra, sus amica,
Sic superbum precum, pape beatus.
The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand moves in mysterious ways. Just ignore him.
I always was a fool for you
Eating your lies with a silver spoon
Now I’m on a diet
But you still try it
Gagging me with a new ruse
There once was a prison for boys.
To some, guns were not only toys.
They had too much fun
Life lived on the run.
Confinement has very few joys.
Teachers taught; helped some of them learn.
Disturbance sometimes took a turn.
“Teach” treated them right.
Boys “partied” at night.
In the classroom stomachs did churn.
An offender has feelings, too.
Not just an animal at the zoo.
But crime has a cost.
One's freedom is lost.
There's no more McDonald's, for you!
Fast food was not their only loss.
Prison guards were mixed in the sauce.
Obey what they say.
Or suffer their way.
Survival or cry; it's a toss!
Exercising in the hot sun.
It's what they must do to have fun.
With sweat pouring down,
Some cuss and some frown.
Poor choices, have this privilege won!
© May 30, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: BEHIND BARS BLUES
Sponsored by: Miranda Lambert
Freddy and Teddy are exactamundo twin brothers.
They are nowhere near as funny as the Smothers.
They take their crass gross comedy act on the road.
All of those in the audience would rather be using the commode.
Most would prefer to have their throats slit if they had their druthers.
Bill stared at a cute butt going by.
Wishing he were much bolder, he sighed,
"I would give all my pay
To roll that in the hay."
But looked up to see 'she' was a guy.
There was a young man lived in Dover
And he was the son of a rover
He fell into the sea
Cause clumsy was he
A shark came and it was all over.
Act of cruelty
I believe that an act of cruelty
Is to take away child’s security
So let it be said
When two people wed
Make sure it’s a certain surety.
18 April 2014 @ 0815hrs
I went to the dentist today,
And the fee that I had to pay,
For one little tooth,
Was highly uncouth.
It's highway robbery, I say!
" I am sorry!" as I told you before.
You keep saying that I must do more.
Should I break down and cry?
Should I curl up and die?
Either way- you still walk out the door.
There once was a skinny horse name George.
Poor ole soul lived alone in a gorge.
Three fit sheep came his way.
They were traded that day.
Matted, bony, his belly engorged.
Onward He forged, living on the brink.
I’ll save him, one young maiden did think.
Head hung; life was his game.
George, his infamous name.
She prayed; from his needs, she did not shrink.
George would not drink; lips were cracked and dry.
She asked God, “Please don’t let him die.”
Water was his kismet.
Sweet feed filled hope’s bucket.
She cut out mats; whisked away each fly.
Six months later, George was still alive.
Lips were moist; he ate; began to thrive.
With some flesh on his bones,
And relieved of his groans,
The day of her moving would arrive.
The time came when George had to be sold.
Half Arabian, not very old
The old trader’s capers,
You promised them, the young girl cajoled.
How could he live; does he have luster?
Papers lost; no death by distemper.
Confessions on that day,
The girl went away.
Compassion to the horse did whisper.
New owners bought him, his health still poor.
His price and potential was the big lure.
They quickly changed his name.
Greener pastures, the game.
Star’s beauty became his life’s encore.
© June 7, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: A Horse Story
Sponsored by: Carol Brown
(Based on a true story)
Time to curl up with a bottle of wine,
I’m not going to share, this bottle is mine;
If you want a drink,
There’s more by the sink;
And I don’t want to hear anyone whine!
~For the Bottle of wine, (fruit of the vine, when.......) Contest~
I made myself sick with the brown bag flu,
From drinking too much of that “Mountain Dew”;
So here’s what I say,
NO drinking today;
I pray this never happens to you!