Oklahoma cowboy, tough coal miner’s son
Born in Henryetta, south of Tulsa some
Raised by daddy’s momma, taught him wrong from right
Daddy taught him ropin’, taught him how to fight
Herding made no money, its stock was really down
Mamaw feeling poorly, dad mining at Old Town
Seventeenth of December, in the year of twenty-nine
Dad was shoring timber, 9th west entry of the mine
The gas ignited close to him, he never smelt its breath
It belched out fire and thunder, and everlasting death
Sixty-one they counted, who wouldn’t see the sun
Twenty-five weren't recognized, they buried them as one
On that fatal Tuesday, the boy became a man
Had to make a living, had to have a plan
Heard about the oil patch, got a chance to try it
Drill the earth for all she’s worth; keep it turnin' to the right
Some they called him weevil, some they called him worm
Some they wouldn't speak to him, figgered he was just short term
They told him "Open up that vee door; go to get the key
It's in the possum belly, in doghouse number three"
Took his turns at floor hand, at first a little green
Became the fastest broke out hand the driller ever seen
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right
The driller called him partner; the pusher called him son
The other roughnecks shook his hand, and took him in as one
Got up on the monkeyboard; learned to spin the chain
Pumped that mud and shed his blood, and worked right through the pain
On a bitter frosty evening tour, in a cold December snow
He saw derricks lit like Christmas trees in distance far below
He saw the fairyland of the refinery, shining through the night
He saw Mother Earth and the universe, all turning to the right
The oil patch was a hard life, moving all the time
But he saved a lot of money, didn't waste a dime
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right
Sent his kids to college, working through the years
One became a teacher, the others engineers
He hung up his hardhat; he shed his steel-toed shoes
Then one day he passed away; he'd finally paid his dues
Made it to the Pearly Gates; they handed him his wings
Handed 'em right back to them; said "I don't need these things.
I want to do some drilling. That's my heavenly plan."
They said "Go talk to the Devil then, cause he's the company man."
Old Scratch needed hellfire; he always come up short
Too many politicians and others of that sort
When he heard they had a driller, he jumped up with delight
He danced a jig, "You've got your rig. Keep it turnin' to the right."
Now he drills for hellfire; in the derrick he's got Jake
Buck and Sam on the platform; Sonny's on the brake
They all grin like demons; they're all where they belong
Doing what they love to do, they sing their roughneck song
"We all eat caliche and drink the devil's brew
Play dominos with Satan and skunk him at forty-two
Work all day on Sunday and honky-tonk all night
We're oilfield trash and we'll take cash to keep it turnin' to the right
We all love West Texas; it's like the Promised Land
Horny toads and rocky roads, and even dunes of sand
Dust storms every morning, northers every night
We get tans and freeze our cans to keep it turnin' to the right"
The lingo used around the rig you won't hear much in church
It'll curl your hair and make you stare and leave you in the lurch
So close your eyes and realize it's gonna get much worse
Drink your beers and plug your ears; here comes the final verse
"We p*ss longneck Lone Stars; we f*rt Frito pie
Give us ****, and we will spit some Red Man in your eye
Don't **** with us, or we will cuss and bring you to the fight
We're low class, but we kick *** to keep it turning to the right"
Coal mining, oil drilling and Hell - Doesn't get much darker and deeper...
We are open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
Except Monday mornings and Sunday nights.
What are they on about, at this place that I seek
That is supposed open 24/7 days a week.
The pub is open we have an unlimited license,
Let’s have a drink before we go to bed!
I’m sorry we are closed the doors shut at eleven
That’s what the snooty landlord then said.
The helpline is here no matter when
Give us a call and we can help you then.
Ring, ring, ring, ring, the phone rings on
A tape recording says, “Sorry everyone has gone.”
My car has broken down the man came to fix it
“It doesn’t work” he said sratching his head.
“There a computer on board and I will need to record
All the things that are broken down” he said.
But I need my car; I looked at him hard,
And he gave me a wizened up frown.
He plugged himself in, then said with a grin.
The computer says it’s fine, the engine is strong.
But the car doesn’t work you toothless little jerk,
The computer plugged in must be wrong.
“How can it be wrong it says the engine is strong?” he gave me a shifty look
“To be honest missus if it ain’t on the pute, perhaps the answers in a book."
He could find nothing wrong, the onboard computer gave a bong,
But it still said all was okay.
The tow-truck they called out with its ramp and its chains
Now they have taken my poor car away.
Modern life is so frustrating; we have everything at our fingertips
There is 24/7 that does not mean that, and fury does exit my lips.
If its 24/7 and help lines constantly, a car that is run by computer.
Why doesn’t anything work, I feel like the jerk, can somebody lend me a shooter.
I want to blast and to break all technology of late
It’s driving me to drink and distraction
The open all hours pubs are now closed,
And my car is still out of action.
The bank is closed, the computers just died,
The telephones gone on the blink
The TV HD, it is fuzzy like me;
I think I’m going to put my head in the sink.
The oven would be better, but its electric not gas
So I don’t think it would work as well
I want to end it all, not practice for the day,
The Grim-Reaper points at me, and sends me to hell.
Therefore, I’ll fill up the sink and put my head in the drink,
Oh, blast, who is that at the door?
It’s the water board here, we are just making it clear,your water is off for a week.
Typical, I have no car and it is too far
To walk out and jump in the creek.
Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.
Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.
Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.
Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.
Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?
Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.
The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.
The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.
Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.
Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.
Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.
HONK HONK BEEP BEEP
SO TIRED OF THESE CITY STREETS
FUMES EXHAUST AND NOISE NEVER ENDING
HAVE I LOST IT
WELL THATS PENDING
GO AHEAD CUT ME OFF
TAKE THE RIGHT OF WAY
GO AHEAD FLIP ME OFF
CANT BE NICE TODAY
HONK HONK BEEP BEEP
ANOTHER MORNING COMMUTE
ONE IS RUDE AND RECKLESS
AND THE REST MUST FOLLOW SUITE
HONK HONK BEEP BEEP
THEY ALL LOOK OH SO PISSED
MUST BE RUDE AND RECKLESS
HUMMM GUESS THATS A MEMO THAT I MISSED
HONK HONK BEEP BEEP
JUST WANNA GO BACK TO BED
HONK HONK BEEP BEEP
LOOK OUT YOU STUPID CREEP!
THIS TRAFFICS MESSING WITH MY HEAD
BUT STOP DRIVING LIKE THAT OR WE'LL ALL BE DEAD
HONK HONK BEEP BEEP
ONE IS DOING HER MAKEUP
APPARENTLY WITH HER FEET
ANOTHER IS ON THE PHONE
WISH I COULD TURN THIS CAR AROUND
AND HURRY RIGHT BACK HOME
WELL ITS NEARLY FIVE OCLOCK
BACK IN THE CAR
TIME TO ROCK
HONK HONK BEEP BEEP
CANT WAIT TO TAKE A BATH AND GO TO SLEEP
I found a job at last
Well, I worked hard for twenty year
For a greedy type of bloke
I pushed and pulled until me legs went weak
Then one day I felt this twinge
It ran right down me spine
So I went out, some doctors help to seek
Now I can’t sit, and I can’t walk
Can’t even wash me feet
So off I goes to see this medico
He looked me over knowingly
As if he understood!
Then said “You’re doing fine, now off you go”
So off I goes to get a job
I gave some boss a call
But when he saw the way it was for me
He said “I can’t give you a job!
You’re stuffed my boy, that’s all
Oh, don’t tell me about your misery”.
I tried for an insurance claim
They said “we know you’re kind!!
You say you’re hurt, but is this really true?
To get some money out of us
You’ll have to test our might
We deem you fit to get a job, we do”
Well now I’ve got myself a job
It’s a breeze, I must confess
I lie her licking postage stamps all day
When I said I couldn’t work
I forgot about me tongue
So now I’ve got a job, and it’s okay.
Written in 1990
Like sick allergies,
Boredom can be passed around
I call it: THE BOREDOM DISEASE
Like a horrid storm,
Boredom can catch you off guard
Hold on for DEAR LIFE!
Like the whooping cough,
Boredom can be serious
If I were you, I’d
Get a vaccination !
You’ll never guess whom the cat drug in; have a day where you just couldn’t win?
He came strutting in, smacking his gum loud, dressed to the nines Goth Punk style.
Tats trailed down his left arm, with my notice, he said, saving up for the other arm.
When ask about drugs, his answer to me was: “Yes, I’ll share” most invitingly…
Metal adornments on ears, nose, and lips, didn’t want to know, the all of it, at this.
As I noticed, he smiled most cattily, asking: ‘Want to see where else they might be?’
Hair a Mohawk with a trail down his back, colors of the rainbow, left nothing to lack.
Steel studs on a black leather butt, said, ‘Bite Me!’ with each and every staged strut.
What are you kidding?… Do my eyes me deceive, or did he just make a pass, at ME?
No Way! I’d rather drop kick him from my office fast, didn't he have any real class?
The application, a Sales Manager Job. Who would try to send me over the deep end?
Bet it had been a practical joke, beginning to end, so I simply held on, my friend.
He must've read my face, forhe smirked, I continued to ask for his list of experience.
His experience was none, but he said he managed his I-tune collection, very well.
Of course, he was the Leader of his ‘Chat Room’. I wondered, ‘Who could tell?’ GEE!
Also an impressive set up on his Facebook page, for his innumerable video games.
I ask how he was qualified for ANY job? Said, Dad ‘THE CEO’ wanted him employed.
I verified this with a call, was told not to be too Harsh, he had Potential, after all...
Ask what job he wanted to give his son? ‘Let him chose himself’, came the real clue!
Ask him, what job he really wanted to do, ‘VP in charge of Recreation’ was imbued.
Said he'd check out all the great places, in his Dad’s fancy Porche. Honestly True!
I kid you not! And he wanted his girlfriend, made into his secretary, Yah! No Doubt!
Believe it or not, he got all he thought he was due. All approved by the CEO’s! True!
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better… I began to really reconsider…
Really, who had been clueless… It hadn’t been him!… Which left me in a dither…
Knowing I just couldn’t win! I’d be glad when this day was finally, truly, done…
The kid had probably thought this a great joke on me from beginning to the end!
My perfect job, had just come undone! Apparently, being in HR isn’t always fun!
My college degree, that took so much sacrifice, no longer sparkled, so much to me.
Boy did I now WISH, I was a CEO’s SON! As I simply got all the paper work done.
Later, I saw the family portrait on the CEO’s desk. Lucky me! One down!…
Only eight more to go!
Carol Eastman and Hubby
Bob had a special talent
That only worked in his men’s store.
He had ‘clothing ESP’.
He knew what his customers wanted…and more.
When customer would come into his store
Bob would invariably say,
“Hello. I'm Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”
And he was always right,
Never missed a color, fabric, style or size.
He even knew the necessary alterations.
Customers couldn’t believe their ears and eyes.
Meanwhile, in another part of town,
Joe had a pounding, relentless migraine
For every minute for more than five years,
It had driven him near insane.
He’d lost his job to the pain.
Then, he lost his wife.
He had lost a lot of weight and rarely slept.
Yes, his was a miserable life.
And, of course, sex was out of the question…
Even a little self-abuse.
There was nothing left for Joe but pain.
He felt his life was of no use.
So, Joe went to his doctor.
“Doc, please help me end this pain.
Give me something to make me sleep
And never wake up again.”
“You know I can’t assist your suicide.”,
Then he looked sad, perhaps ashamed.
“I never dreamed it would last five years,
But I know how to end the pain.”
“You can make it go away?!
Tell me, Doc! What’s the word?”
“I’ll have to remove your testicles.”
Was the last thing that Joe heard.
But…when he came to, it struck him.
Sex was out of the question anyway;
But he might enjoy his meals again,
And he could sleep for days.
“Please check me in, Doc.
This opportunity I cannot shirk.”
So, the doctor removed his testicles.
He did his very best work.
A few days later, Joe waddled along,
Headache free and feeling pretty nice;
But every attractive woman he saw
Reminded him of his sacrifice.
He decided it was appropriate
To do something nice for himself for a change.
So, he went into a travel agency;
And a six month cruise he arranged.
As he left the travel agency,
He was excited, feeling ready to go;
But for such a glorious adventure,
He would need new clothes.
As he walked along, he saw Bob’s Men's Store.
He walked in, only to hear Bob say,
“Hello. I’m Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”
“How could you know?” asked Joe.
“It’s a gift. I don’t know how, but I do.
You’ve suffered five years with an ailment,
Found relief, so now you’re taking a cruise.”
Joe could not believe his ears.
How could this stranger possibly know?
"You're right! That's amazing!
And I'm going to need new clothes."
Bob then laid out a fabulous wardrobe
All the right colors, fabrics, styles…and each size.
Joe was incredibly impressed.
He could hardly believe his ears and eyes.
“How do you like the wardrobe?”
“It’s wonderful!” Bob could see that Joe was pleased.
“Now,” said Bob, “What about undergarments;
You know…shorts and tees?
Let’s see…medium crew neck tees, all cotton.
I believe that you prefer white….
And jockey shorts, all cotton…. 34s.
Yes, I'm sure that’s right.”
Joe beamed, “You’re an amazing talent
And I just this second realized,
You've laid out this entire wardrobe
And only missed one size.”
Bob, surprised by his mistake, asked, “Really?
What did I miss? I did my best for you.”
“Well…you’re right.” said Joe, “I do wear Jockeys,
But…well…I wear 32s.
“Oh, no!” said Bob with an ugly grimace.
“That would be a serious mistake.
Thirty-twos would be too small,
They would cramp your balls.
You’ll get migraine headaches.”
I do not know?
Homework oh' homework
All kids say it stinks,
They say they wont do it,
but that it would disappear once they blink,
They say who invented it;
and who brung it forth,
They say they wish teachers would stop giving it,
And all though I agree
Homework is a good thing,
It will help you, you'll see
It will help tomorrow, today,
and years later
It will help you be smarter
it'll help you participate
So don't say that you hate it
All though you clearly do, because
you know that you need it
I worked for a cranky old boss
who came to work always quite cross.
Finally found out,
he developed gout,
when stocks took a capital loss.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
"Too young!", were the words, that everyone said
While working our way to get a degree.
First time on our own, and now, newlyweds
Plus, looking for jobs, yet happy were we!
In a brand new town, now, a brand new wife!
Pinching our pennies, and dollars much more
Hitting the sidewalk, .a busy new life.
Finally, a job found, at Rolf's Clothing Store!
Old geezers, would ask me "Would you help me, dear?"
Keeping composure, ..(must not crack a grin!)
"A suit, ...some undies: What size should I wear??"
My tape-measure panics,..(where to begin?!!)
Measuring inseams from crotch to the hem!
Is not a task, I'll be wanting again !!!!
11/12//14 For Sara's Contest: JOBS
Chew me up and spit me out,
Track me down on my route.
Don’t let me get away with that,
If I get up knock me flat.
Keep a watch on what I do,
Make sure it’s what you want me to.
Don’t let me stray from the path,
If I do rain down your wrath.
Steel my spirit with your will,
Keep me moving straight until,
My work is finally said and done,
Then I’ll return to share the fun.
This is me the poet talking about me the playwright. When I write these silly rhymes I can do or say anything that I want but in a play adapted from a book I must remain true to the story. I’ll never adapt someone else’s work again.
Your own successful biz,
that's what your best job is!
I took my mother to the doctor just the other day.
An odyssey of sorts and an adventure I must say.
We came down from the mountain to the city about nine.
In spite of some construction work we made it there on time.
We entered the garage and slowly started up the screw.
Looking for a spot, knowing there would be so few.
Another parking pickle, we would have our work cut out.
A predicament of parking, and a challenge without doubt.
Up to level three and still we couldn’t find a place.
And then right to the left, finally, an empty space.
But it was not to be, it was an empty spot mirage.
A motorcycle parked inside a parking space garage.
We kept on going up to level four, the color green.
It certainly was the most crowded that we’d ever seen.
And then a possibility, a space just to the right.
Zooming in, I saw it, like radar in my sight.
But disappointment struck again, it was the old routine.
A car parked in two spaces, now I started feeling mean.
Now why the heck did they not park inside the yellow lines.
They’re lucky they do not give out illegal parking fines.
Finally, we found one, such a treasure to behold.
A place to rest our weary car, a story to be told.
We slipped right in the vacant spot, with smiles upon our faces.
Amazing how such happiness is brought by parking spaces.
Then just before our lights were off the pressure had begun.
For it was not yet over, not nearly were we done.
A yellow car was waiting with its high beams burning bright.
The older couple looking very desperate – what a sight.
‘No,’ I shook my head we have just now pulled in this spot.
Their faces turned from desperate into angry, twisted knots.
Then slowly they drove past me with a fire in their eyes.
I quickly stepped aside for not a thing would have surprised.
And then ten seconds later a big motor bike arrived.
The driver had a look that seemed to me to be contrived.
What could the man be thinking, to park right by my side?
My look said, ‘Don’t you try it, keep on stepping with your ride!’
Finally, we walked away, car parked, alarm turned on.
Heaven knows what antics would occur while we were gone.
Behind us was a long parade of drivers and their plights.
Like prisoners, all trapped, inside a sea of blinking lights.
that fascist scrapes her paws like a bear
hissing orders, crossed-legged on a chair
sent a rumor mail in haste
that prexy's gal has bad taste….
revenge! boss works now as our sweeper
Carolyn Devonshire’s Contest
Single Limerick… Horrible Bosses
I've had it up to here
life is so off track
hand me the remote
let's rewind it back
17 years old
I thought my life was hard
Well now I see the difference
'Cause now I am in charge
Companies are screaming
They get right my ear
"Miranda, pay your bills"
Clean your credit dear
Walk in the door
And I fall flat on my face
Toy's from crack to crevice
Completely out of place
Clean up this lovely mess
Get the kiddies off to bed
I try relaxing in the bath
To hear cries of "mama" in my head.
for March Madness contest.
Lookin' after pests
Keepin' a CLOSE eye on 'em
"Those wild animals!"
Roamin' around zoo
Searchin' for sneaky monkey
Hidin' in a tree
Zookeeper gets mad
"Where's Marty, the smartypants!?"
"He TOOK my cage keys!"
Colors will always make my life happier,
They also make my whole world brighter
What if there’s no color?
I think, I’ve no life galore
And I cannot make myself much prettier.
So, I’ve got a more fantastic idea,
To show everyone my color-mania
For Monday Luck, I wear red
From my feet to my head
Like a dragon of New Year in China.
Then comes the next day, it’s Tuesday
Keeping aura, I’ve color of sun ray
Yellow dress and jewelries,
They say, I’ve hepatitis
But, I don’t care no matter what they say.
Then comes the third day of the week,
More work are done making me weak
To conceal my exhaustion
Green color shows pretention
That my life and vigor are still at peak.
Thursday comes so perfectly great,
I wear purple , also my favorite
Purple fingernails and lips,
Its on me up to the tips
And I get smiles from whoever I meet.
Friday, the last day of my office work,
On this day, rainbow color over perk
I use multi-colored things,
Feeling of joy they’ll bring
No one says I carry myself like a quirk.
Saturday and Sunday are weekends,
Still, work and activities never end
Two days, I’ll be all in pink
People see me can’t wink
Tickled pink that I look so young my friend.
Sept. 22, 2012
Sponsor: Poetess Skat
My life has been varied and long
at many things I failed.
Aged seven I wanted to be a train driver
but that idea was soon derailed.
I trained to be an Olympic athlete
came last in every race
I studied to be a lawyer
and lost my every single case
I left my job as a crane driver
on the day I was hired
My stint as a Gigolo
left a lot to be desired.
I applied to be a hotel porter
but was told there was no room
and my time as a concert pianist
was distinctly out of tune.
So I became a writer
and dream my time away
I can be who or where I want
whilst staying in bed all day.
I used to complain about having to work at night on weekends.
Everyone was having fun but li'l ol' me.
Some years back I had an epiphany on the matter.
Suddenly, I had time to cash my check AND pay my bills!
Then, I might possibly catch a movie, which has plenty of seating on Monday nights!
But my favorite part is: The People Zoo.
I started visualizing folks in their cubicles and at their counters as exhibits.
You find mostly monkeys in cubicles working for some government agency.
The sharks you'll find in the car lots and on showroom floors.
The insects buzzing and dutifully mimicking their peers are found at schools.
The buzzards and carrion feeders can be found at law firms and in courtrooms.
The bulls and bears can be found scrapping it out on Wall street,
While the elephants and donkeys exchange insults on the TV monitors.
The pigs are found cruising the streets making sure the rats and snakes don't take over.
The blood-sucking Vampire bats can be found working for insurance companies.
Just a warning: Most of these exhibits offer you no protection from the brutality of nature!
There are no tour guides and no guarantees of safety or fun.....
And, one more thing: They will eventually come to see you in YOUR exhibit!
Young and single, just got a job in a neighbour town,
Thought I’d buy a flashy car so I could get around,
My boyfriend at the time said that I should get a Camaro,
It was new, orange and shiny, how could I be so narrow.
I crowned her Bess and drove her home with pride,
All my friends called, they wanted to go out for a ride.
Summer was so much fun, what a splash I was making.
Then gone, both summer and the boyfriend I was dating.
Winter rolled in with tons of snow and patches of ice,
Getting to work in my Camaro, was like rolling the dice.
Ol’ Bess would skid to the left and swerve to the right,
Wow, I held on to the steering wheel with all my might.
So I resigned that Bess was not good in cold weather,
Even with snow tires, she blew around like a feather.
Then suddenly a new quirk started as I turned on the key,
She spluttered, oh great, guess I won’t make the grand prix.
Bess would start well at times then for no good reason,
She’d stammer, then stop, reek of gas - in any season.
Bess and I visited many auto repair shops by way of a tow,
The carburetor was like a fountain, out of it the gas would flow.
Apparently a carburetor is needed to make Bess purr,
So I had it rebuilt, then replaced, oh the bills, what a blur,
Then a starter motor and strut, remember Bess is brand new,
After three years of aggravation, I traded her in, I was through!
Guess a cool single girl may look good in a splashy sports car,
But if your car doesn’t start or run, you won’t get too far.
So I put on my sunglasses, look cool but feel like a real wart,
As I drive to work in sleet and snow in my old Ford Escort.
Written for Contest “Driving Me Crazy”
Won 6th Place
They assigned me me to write a sonnet about the life of a drunken writer
whose dream wouldn't shatter, but his foolishness wasn't in the past tense;
he spent endless hours reading blogs of people who didn't make sense...
in chat rooms he found geeks, charlatans and a casual liar.
These are the ones who can text all day as kids do for fun...
what's the excuse for being late and perform with a brainless head?
Here's proof of his laziness: he didn't write anything to earn him bread.
" Wake up, your work is piling up...you snore as pigs in a barn! "
the co-worker in the next booth sneered as the boss approached Fred
who stuttered and tried to explain why he couldn't get the work done...
while his breath stunk and couldn't stand him looking awfully mad.
" I need that article by tomorrow, or you'll get a pink slip and are gone! "
" Sir, the last article was a hit...you liked that sex-pot with those boobs! "
" Why can't I write about today's generation who have the speed of raccoons? "
Housework what a chore
I refuse to do it any more
My poor hands have blisters
And my hands are sore
Oh my what a bore.
The more you do
The more you find
It's such hard work
And I don't have the time.
Some peoples houses are like a show room
Mine A sty
Think I was born without the tidy gene
I'm just a man who doesn't clean.
Antique pizza found under the coach
But how I wish I had a tidy house
Piles of books everywhere
If anyone came they couldn't find a chair.
I tried housework some years ago
But what I let myself in for I didn't know
I bought every cleaning substance known to man
I stood proud with a mop and bucket in my hands
You used to be able to look out of the windows and see the trees
I cleaned and scrubbed on my knees
I threw loads of stuff away. It seemed I was cleaning night and day.
Oh how I hate throwing things away
I keep everything thinking
It will come in handy one day
But it never does.
Oh won't someone come and clean for me
I can't help it I'm such a busy bee.
A man's work is never done
Not because we do any
Because it's far from fun
No we just think about it
And think some more
Oh why is housework such a chore.
''Not a true story, but I avoid it as much as poss''.
Peter Dome.copyright.2014. July.
And now I'm sat here tired frustrated
In my apron and rubber gloves
When the Boss Says, “See me”
By Elton Camp
Abner eyed the sticky note on his report with unease
In twenty years with the firm, hadn’t seen one of these
Grapevine was saying the boss had a nephew to hire
But before he could do that, someone he must fire
Could Abner expect, for his work, a sense of loyalty?
He knew that it wouldn’t be long before he would see
Trembling with fear, he sat in his little cubicle for a while
Trying to collect his thoughts for when put under trial
After a bit, he decided that he couldn’t put it off anymore
As if walking the last mile, he stood outside the boss’ door
Abner rapped on the door and the boss called him in
Boss didn’t shake his hand & there was no trace of a grin
“Fellow, I’ve been checking your work last month or two.
And I feel that I am required to tell you what is so true.”
Abner took a deep breath for what he knew would come
He was about to be put on the road by that pompous bum
At his age, it might be impossible for him a job to locate
And to have to tell his family was what he did most hate
“Abner, even more than in the past, your work is outstanding.
So it is a promotion, private office, and raise I am handing.”
Ode To A Dead Apple
Oh poor Dan what can we say
He’s had such bad news delivered today
His Apple Mac that’s virus free
As expensive and speedy as can be.
To do your work is such a breeze
Bug free it does not catch a sneeze
But what the Apple people did not do
Was protect it from the likes of you
Your Apple Mac that you so love
Is put to rest and looks down from above.
The death of your Mac is hard to take
Don’t do anything stupid for goodness sake
It was tired with all the work you do
And sleepy just like De and you
But listen to some advice that’s free
Never give it any more coffee or tea.
To my poor Nephew that has spilled a mug of Coffee and Killed his Mac
< once there was a boss we called miss priss
like to give orders with snap of wrist
file fax make coffee
phones radio golly
when not looking I blow her big hiss
A Pill Of Life
A dream , a secret wish takes me for a groovy-ride
to be strong and tough and not the baby -cry.
I muse up on Popeye ,the macho sailor man
envy him for that leaves he had in a simple can
handy that he kept, to puff his muscles out
when swallowed a tuft of spinach in to his gout.
spinach would mess me up at work and play
so, I would rather 'pill ' em up in a pop- down pill
boss or boys, creed does not matter
pill must work well with all in a batter
one for the boy, 2 for the howling lady,
3 for the boss ,so it goes ; keep more for the bawdy
Pills to tough me up to deal with the deceptive and dowdy ones
to live a kingly life and dust happy hands off their pokes and puns
For Russell Sivey's contest- Pill Of Life.
He was all fired up
he had it all figured out
this was it, the end of us
"I need my space" or so he thought
until she entered the room
dressed totally different
to what is “her norm”
a black dress
with high heels
legs that go on forever,
he almost walked into the bathroom
mouth hanging open
"Err did you go to work like that?" he
“Yep of cause I did, I always
do,"was her reply
Uhm, it's the first time I see you
dressed like that
Nonchalantly while getting rid of her
clothes she replied,
“Well now if you more at home and
less "at work"
You’ll see me more in my work attire
then in my pajamas”
Gawking at her scanty underwear,
He saw her swing her hips as she left
Confucius Joe was left behind,
feeling less desperate for space and
more a need for closeness
There was once was a lady from town
Who wore a halo like a crown
Told her daughter-in-law
Dresses should wear like squaw
Wore one to work and naked frowned
The loom grabbed her dress and wham bam
Naked from the waist down~life in jam
Supervisor gave coat
Took her home and I quote
"I put my blue jeans on grand slam"
My mother was a very stern believer that women should wear dresses..
My brother married late in life and his wife worked in the weaving department..
She did a job called filling batteries..She had to walk between the looms to do
her job..They had suggested to the women that they should wear tight fitting
pants or blue jeans..To please my mother she made her a new dress and wore
it to work..First thing, it got caught..It ripped it and her slip off..She was left
standing naked ..
Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan
Contest: Any New Limerick
(Gail's note: This is the sequel to the Email to Subby Conscience poem.)
From: Subby Conscience
Re: Communication between You and Me
Date: February 14, 2012
While I sneak and scheme in your chaotic REM
I am doing nothing more than being a friend.
Those dream-swirls and ‘mare-tugs purge your mind’s eye
so that your psyche can grow and won’t suddenly die.
While you’re gripping tightly to antique feelings that won’t budge
I’m prying them out; giving them a strong nudge.
And as you grudgingly work through a feeling or two
I am working my hardest to make you feel what is true.
I even may help you work out a solution or two
Because during the day you are too busy to.
Who else provides perks that allow you to be
both young and old in the very same dream?
So tell me dear, and answer me this.
What would you do if many nights I missed
And was sneaking around in another soul’s REM
What would your sanity be like then?
Without my help to work out thoughts
That keep you quite sane…
Would you then turn around
And try to cast blame?
Saying Subby’s absence caused you to act like a drip?
Saying Subby’s absence caused your tongue to Freudian slip?
Instead your mind can skyrocket and cozily soar
After I recede in the A.M. and work behind your mind’s door.