Chicken Cot UFO
It crossed the gloaming skies above the roofs,
in awe we followed then, its jazzy course;
mysterious would be the incensed spoofs
this ireful ship, upon us, would enforce.
..We said! Abominable was the ship
that traced its gaudy eights in air with hum;
predestined to avenge our ego trip,
atrocious poulets, would not succumb.
The chicken soldiers were a frightful troop
in pink-pistachio uniforms with spots,
that insolent, bombarded us with moop,
to hit our heads that were devoid of thoughts.
In order to placate the chicken troop,
some started to recite their verse to skies;
confronting that attacking chicken group,
- bird poems they opposed to battle cries.
The angry war-birds listened to the verse,
that was composed by stunned, exposed confreres,
their cackle was bemocking and adverse,
- upon their heads they wore rouge voluperes.
This myth reflected what would happen if
extraterrestrial cots invaded Earth,
relentless chicken-birds in martial tiff
would moop upon some artists of top worth.
© 12/11/2013, G. Venetopoulos
moop = Matter Out Of Place
I am winter's nemesis.I fight it tooth and nail.
In my youth it declared a war on me.
When I licked that icy rail.
Winter has many weapons to choose from.
Fear not for so do I.
A call my shovel Excali-burrr
My Ranger has four wheel drive
But winter's arsenal is no laughing matter
Icicles sent to impale, and black ice is its deadly device
But the human spirit is not that frail
I am winter's nemesis, and though it muffles all sound
This war is raging with bitter disdain.
My driveway the battle ground
I shall not relinquish my parking spot
to your mindless rabble of flakes
So bow to me you wretched season
For I shall never tire.
and my staunch ally will soon be spring
and together we will force a cease fire
For I am winter's nemesis
And these walls shall not be breached
Until my tour of duty is done
and I retire to Miami beach
Rolling through a bloody mess,
my master died alone no less.
His mercy was indeed a lie,
he said I lived but now will die.
His hand was swift with a mighty stroke,
within a thought my life was broke.
Oh how I lived, and he knew not,
but now I lay...my life to rot.
No foot, nor hand could move a limb,
Three days old and no sign of him.
And then he came at my wits end,
With strength alone I cant defend.
He lift me up and broke my jaw,
Just to laugh as I hit the floor.
He took a blade and made a fist,
stabbed his flesh, his vein, his wrist.
Now you're dead and now you're mine,
drink from me and you'll be fine.
I could not stand my masters site,
I killed him quick with my own bite.
hell was other
wayward wit and
the green of life,
until the light
was left to right,
hell was other
fraught with that,
that we applaud,
aimless aims and
the truth in truth
we soon forgot,
hell was other
There was an elusive little guy often espied during World War Two,
And who he was and whence he came no one ever really knew!
He was a bald headed little feller with a very prominent nose,
And he always left the message "Kilroy Was Here" in very stilted prose!
You seldom saw his eyes and his hands were clinging to a wall.
Many G.I.s saw him in latrine stalls and in their greasy dining hall!
His origin and parting message are debated to this very day,
And no one has ever nabbed the graffiti artists who always slunk away!
He was portrayed in cruisers, battleships and even on submarines!
Kilroy's portrait was tattooed on the chests of a few diehard Marines!
'Tis said Hitler saw "Kilroy Was Here" and wondered what it meant,
Thinking it a secret code when found on American accouterment!
Kilroy became as famous as the mysterious smile on the Mona Lisa.
(I even saw his mug when I climbed to the top of the Tower of Pisa!)
Rosie the Riveter may have been guilty, if the truth were told,
Of tracing Kilroy's image on bombers, including the bomb bay hold!
Well, 'tis for sure we couldn't have won the war without the little guy!
Kilroy's antics lifted morale at home and overseas, that you can't deny!
But you haven't seen the last of him, for he is forever etched in history,
On the World War Two Monument in DC - how he got there is a mystery!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
For those a tad younger who may have never heard of Kilroy, go to your search
and type in "Kilroy Was Here" and click the Wikipedia notation and you will learn
more than you ever wanted to know about him!
i dont care who you are
or what you think of me
build me up and break me down
then take your "stuff"* and flee
i hate you
you know it too
so bring it to my plate
take a point and hold my ground
to not spew all my hate
you were so nice in the beginning
well, what the "heck"* are you now?
gone, love, thats what you are
a filthy ugly cow
i am still the nice guy
lord, you have said so much worse
and still im here, i still get by
a blessing, not a curse.
i didnt snap hard enough to say what i meant
UFO - Hmm
It crossed the
gloaming skies above
in awe our eyes
pursued its jazzy
( mysterious would
be the incensed
this ireful ship,
upon us, would
Abominable was the
that traced its
gaudy eights in air
avenge our ego trip,
would not succumb.
The chicken soldiers
were a frightful
uniforms with spots,
bombarded us with
to hit our heads
that were devoid of
- The Alien ship was
rounded like the
each angry bird was
using a stun-gun,
the star of origin
of that platoon
and planet were most
certainly to shun. -
In order to placate
the chicken troop,
some started to
recite their verse
- bird poems they
opposed to battle
The angry war-birds
listened to the
that was composed by
their cackle was
- upon their heads
they wore rouge
This myth reflected
what would happen if
cots invaded Earth,
would moop upon some
artists of top
© G. Venetopoulos,
moop = Matter Out Of
I’m sure you’ve heard of the Great King Arthur and Lancelot’s well-known fame.
But there was yet another knight, of great glory and great fame, never named.
His name was whispered constantly, everywhere, around those hollowed halls.
For no one wanted to be near when he passed by, on his famous unerring walks.
A knight so very gallant, that he would bow to: every fashion of maiden, high or low.
So fierce his life could not be taken, no matter how sharp the blade, they did throw.
A musical quality followed him everywhere, and his livery was absolutely divine.
He would have been the perfect knight, except for one minor, itty bitty, tiny flaw…
What was his name, you may ask, and what led to such glory and illustrious fame?
He was Sir Dragon Sparkle Farts, and yes, you can guess, what earned him that name.
You see, an evil witch, he once did fight, and yes… he absolutely won, most verily.
But before the witch became undone, she sprinkled a curse upon his own, to be.
Whenever others are about, you guessed it, yet again; he had sparkle farts, my friend.
Do not laugh; he was to all, a dearest friend. Tho the trouble caused, was rampant, in the end.
You see, in that time the villages were all made with beautifully made, thatched roofs…
He flew betwixt and between, yet, an occasional spark now airborne, did veer off, poof!
So for the most part he walked in town, though the wheat fields were often, set off.
At least the castle was made of stone, though many a tapestry did not survive, well off.
Indeed, a water bucket brigade, became put at his disposal, simply all the time, amen!
And nobody did tickle him, for fames from both ends, became quite rampant then.
Laughter did, yes, the same… But hiccups brought utter flame throwing despair, to all.
Still he was a beloved knight, so the round table was set to keep his back, to the wall.
The knights all stuck together, thru thick and thin, and yes, even thru his sparkle farts.
But with great sadness: of why such a fierce warrior, could be forgot, I now impart.
You see, his name Sir Dragon Sparkle Farts, did not ring, minstrels romantic thoughts.
Historians, thought his references, just crude, forgettable laughable jokes, The Sots!
But know, when Camelot finally fell, and even he could not stop that inevitable tide.
He flew away, to the great blue North, they say, where with snow and ice, he abides.
Now, young and old, do not be sad… For the moral of this fable holds:
All he did was: for his friends and the Greater Good… He cared not for Glory or Gold.
Soon we all must enter the fray
And keep this injustice at bay
Thus said the major
Who tripped on the floor
Thus ending the war for that day
CSA General Bedford Forest
Mighty killing warrior
Would've won the war no jest
If his horses were survivors
Gen. Forest lost 30 horses during the civil war and killed more soldiers than any
other general. It could be said he was lucky or his horses were unfortunate.
Springtime fills the air,
like laughing gas.
(Or maybe more like whiskey.)
The suburbs are drunk on the nectar of it's dawn.
are starting to dance.
(Or maybe they're just wobbling.)
They vomit whole families onto their lawn.
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV:
Confused and intrigued,
with a slight urge to pee.
The father cuts grass,
like a sleepwalker.
(Or maybe more like a zombie -
Ravenous for cheap beer, instead of brains.)
A six pack later,
he starts washing his car.
(Or watering his driveway.)
He's spreading on wax so he's set when it rains.
The mother kneels in dirt,
tending the garden.
(More like digging in a sandbox.)
Her spade is rusty. (Figuratively, at least.)
A sunset later,
she cooks family dinner.
(Or maybe orders some pizza.)
(If every mouth is fed, she can call it a feast.)
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV.
The son plays war games,
dying for fun.
(Or maybe more for practice.)
He whines about fruit drinks, as well as the heat.
A full pitcher later,
tweaking on sugar,
(Or maybe just corn starch.)
the war escalates, 'til its time to go eat.
The daughter makes a picnic,
inviting her toys.
(Or maybe not.)
(Her plastic spread can only spread so thin!)
After the tea time,
she's off picking flowers.
(Or maybe weeds.)
(As long as they're pretty, there's a vase that they'll fit in.)
They gather, as a family, at the table to say grace.
They hold each others' hands and say, "Amen."
(And proceed to stuff their face.)
The dog sits by the boy -
Loyal and true.
(Or maybe just hungry.)
He drools as he stares from the corners of his eyes.
he offers to help with the dishes.
(Or maybe he demands it.)
The boy sneaks him a bite. The dog is not surprised.
Bedtime comes soon after.
The kids are sent to brush their teeth.
(Or maybe just to run the sink.)
They put on their jammies, and to bed, they go.
After tucking them in,
the parents watch TV.
(Or maybe they just dream they do,
sleeping in its glow.)
The dog is changing channels,
looking for a better show.
Confused and intrigued,
he pees on the carpet below.
Please, sir, some meat and bread
I've not had a morsel for a week
It would stop this terrible hunger
My prospects now are terribly bleak
It's said the Earl is tender hearted
And oh so bloody awful rich
If I could have a taste of his
I'd call the thing a Sandwich
I hate to just come a beggin'
But I'm so hungry I am seeing red
Won't you ask the Earl again
Please, sir, some meat and bread.......
For Joe's Sandwich contest...lol
Archie Bunker served in Italy during Dubya Dubya Two,
And was wounded by an enemy gun that was aimed, Oh! so true!
He won the Purple Heart and was reluctant to talk about his scar, but,
Meathead found great glee in reminding him that he was shot in the butt!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in PDee's "Battle of the Clerihews # 2" Contest - February 2012
They do not move a muscle
Nor give unto their fears
But contemplate their carnage
Have you even not, one tear
Had I known you like I do now
You wicked callous beast
I never would have shown you
That my heart was in your reach
When the first drop of precious blood
Impacts upon this ground
I swear I’ll not forgive you
And by the Gods I’ll strike you down
But could we not turn, this tide
And you and I once more
Find the love sent from about
And do, as we adore
NO, cause you insist to make my wish
Lie broken on the floor
And wear a glove while touching love
Just like a filthy whore
Don’t think the Gods won’t notice
You’re defiled and you’re sick
By using love to hide behind
To pull this dirty trick
Ah, to one trick there’s another
And I possess my share
Be patience and I’ll show you
What can happen to your lair
With cunning and with cruelty
My counsel will evoke
A very cunning plan
That would make Poseidon choke
I will converse, with Apollo
To have the sun replace the moon
So therefore catch a tan
If it’s possible, by noon
Then I’ll call on my Seamstress
To sew me something smart
With these hand made silver boots
This is Fashion’s off the charts
Of course all my solders
Will be dressed up in their best
Tunics will be optional
And so might the rest
We will decorate the beach
With a bonfire and some torches
So the enemy can watch
While they’re lounging on their porches
Send a ship down to the tropics
I think seafood would be nice
And one up to the artic
To fetch all some ice
I know some Greek dancing songs
We’ll get the band to play
And I’ll maybe sing a solo
To melt, their hearts away
Cause no one, but no one
Puts a party on like me
And makes the end to every war
A spectacle to see
When things start dieing down
Very late at night
We all crawl to our ships
And we’ll put out the lights
We give them the impression
We’re all drunk and going home
This should make them feel relieved
That we’re leaving them alone
But that is when we pull
The oldest trick, found in the book
With a sinister contraption
This deception’s off the hook
To Be Continued.................
you can't win a war in Afghanistan
ask the Russians and A Mer I Cans,
if they can't do it, than no-one can
Watch out!....The War in Afghanistan
full of Al-Qaeda and Taliban
opium poppies throughout the land,
a big paycheck for Afghanistan,
Watch out!... for The War in Afghanistan.
In the still of night, before he took flight,
Navy Seals dropped by, Bin Laden must die......
it's time that we leave Afghanistan,
We've kicked the Taliban in the Can
no need for us to lose Servicemen
Watch out !... for The War in Afghanistan....
let's leave, get out of Afghanistan...
No more........War in Afghanistan...........
What flies though the air up above
Disguised as a peace seeking dove
For those who've not heard
Drones can send you the bird
From the land of brotherly love
Author's note: Is this really how to win friends and influence people (for the long term)?
When pigs and monkeys roars
How a pig became a lion?
How , How a monkey roars?
That's when you stop saying NO
When the lions are here
When the lions onshore
Pigs will be pigs
A monkey will stand for
A monkey , no less , no more
Bazookas In The Bed
We have a mosquito problem
It’s in our house. It never ends
There’s nothing we can do but shoot them
Then shoot them over and over again
You see…You understand…They’re not our friends
Potions, tonics, sprays all make them happy
It gives them strength to multiply
We’re looking to make their lives less comfy
Less pleasant less satisfied
It’s not from animus or hate
Shells and ammo is the case. It’s simply fate
And to that end
I stay up late at night and wait
7 bazookas by my side and sights are ready
And from my bed in the deepest dark
I fire at will! I fire straight!
The idea is not to simply kill them
Though that would be so very great
But to make them really really dead
With bazooka fire power from my bed
As I'm lying on your pillow here
I pray for God to watch over you each night
And help guide you through your daily plights
I can hear sounds of wispiring winds
And see through window's pane a mighty stars spin
Just knowing your battling on foreign soil
Over someone else's turmoils
Makes me just love you that much more
But please hurry home hun to finish your own dam choirs
Tribute To Our Troops And Loved Ones
God Bless U.S.A.
Also Entry For Brian Strand's
My Dear Contest
I'd thought I found eternal rest
cold hands folded, still, on my chest
but I hear echoes from the past
the trumpet's sound, fierce bugle blast
Coming alert, I look around
burst out laughing, see the sound
source - back to sleep with merry wave
at geese, goose-stepping on my grave ....
Alan McAlpine Douglas
Take me there
I don't care
Touch my hair
Eat this pear!!!
I am bare
Want to share?
Do you care?
I am bear
I'll let you stare
Don't go there
By the chair
Or on that stair?
Your skin is fair
You look like Cher
Come to my lair
But pay my fare
Drippity drip drip
John J. Rambo
Hurt, but even more puzzled I’m
Sir, do we get to win this time?
"My Big Brother" up and down the street
He could be anyone you meet
Spying on you from the street
Looking in from every beat
"My Big Brother" isn't that sweet
"My Big Brother" and I don't know why
Casting in from above the sky
"My Big Brother" the commie spy
Listening in do or die
Bringing his book in
My Big Brother, 1-800-LET-US IN
Caught with paper and a pen
All because, "My Big Brother" let himself in
I bought a burger yesterday
It was very dry like the seagull bay
I pilled a lot of ketchup on it
and still dry it remained
I was very dissappointed
as i look at the dry damned thing
I ran to the toilet
and let out a HUGE
As chunks of the dry burger fell out of my pie hole
Landing into the toilet
Making dookie plop noizes
A battle rages
between beans and broccoli.
Sadly, no winner
emerges from this dark fog.
Perhaps I will blame the dog.
Over the horizon is heard the sputtering engine of an unusual bird.
Trailing a billowing plume of smoke, it looked so pathetically absurd!
Coming into view was an old Curtiss Jenny of World War One fame.
Used only as a trainer, faster, more stable planes put it to shame!
The dashing young pilot buzzed the field and waved to the crowd.
Distraught moms covered the ears of their kids to ease the din so loud!
He did a barrel roll and a loop and people thought the man insane!
He made a wobbly landing, alit, gazing about with haughty disdain!
Doffing his goggles, his oil-stained face looked like that of a raccoon.
The handsome interloper caused young ladies to gasp and swoon.
He smiled a smile that would light up the night and gallantly salutes!
He's so striking in his breeches, helmet, leather jacket and shiny boots!
He grandly announced, "For five bucks I'll take you for a ride,
In good old faithful Jenny here, my joy and my pride!
Now don't be shy, step right up! How about you there, Dad?
Let me give the thrill of a lifetime to that there young lad!"
The young fellow with his Ma and Pa did earnestly plead.
Ma and Pa argued about it and Ma tearfully agreed.
That flight sparked a burning flame in the soul of that young boy!
He became a World War Two fighter ace much to his parent's joy!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I do not know?
What Did The 3 Legged Dog Say To The 2 Legged Cat?
What an amazing thing to see by any eye. Two creatures on there way home, spoke as
if they were from a war zone.
All though both were missing parts, they had tremendous heart. Cat, what do they call
you? My friends call me 2 Blue.
Dog, what do they call you? My friends call me 3 paws. It’s a pleasure to meet you.
Same here 2Blue.
Are you curious? Everybody I meet seems to be. Not really 2 Blue. What rights have I,
to say whose whole? Looks to me like you have plenty of soul.
Thank you 3 Paws; I would imagine you are quite a dog, with lots of heart and plenty of
So, 2 Blue, what’s up? Seen any action lately? Not since the alley fight in 2002, when my
back was against the wall, and I took a heavy fall.
What about you 3 Paw? What’s your story? Well, it’s a lone one, but I like to keep it
short. I was in the dark in 2007, sniffing like I normally do, when guess who? Right! The
Rockwilder Brothers jumped me.
While running, I slipped on some ice, and they weren’t nice with there bites
I agree, we all learned our lessons in life. Something’s are good, and some aren’t so
3 Paw, see you around. 2 Blue, I’ll be in town.
I was born in Babylon
Everyday I want to be alone
I prayed not to get low
Everyday Babylon claim more soul
I just have to go, seek for more show
I grow with no shoes under my foots
Ganger is my food,
Mosquitoes sing the reggae allover my room
Webs block my views, killing my crews
What can I do to survive when am buzz
Where is that place to get crazy?
That place you cannot erase,
That camp with more space,
Where you don’t have to get late
That place where you just want to be free from
“Babylon” Babylon” Babylon…I want to be free
If there is a question, it should be about relation
My action will generate your reaction
Is substitution the way to be free from Babylon?
The game is always ON, grow horns like Capricorn
Cut the vegetables; let’s be able to be stable
They speak like politicians
And hold a great ambition.
They think they are right
And same speech they recite.
They always gather for a bite
Deciding who should start the fight.
All have their own stations
To be the victims of cremation.
They gather their own crowd
Who cheer and clap to any sound.
They think they are right
Only here for a bite.
They speak like Aristo
And act like Montecristo!
They smoke big cigars
And all drive tinted cars.
They dress in glitter
And all have Twitter.
They act so polite
But hardly can write.
Always in action
Only during the election.
To make a collection
Or a connection.
O What a time you feel like
Committing a crime.
For a brief background about this poem, pls, read the poem (Beirut).
“War is Hell”, it once was said,
Its ravages will sicken.
Doves, to some, are signs of peace;
To some, they taste like chicken.