I need you like I need air
Close my eyes, your face I see
An unexplained obsession
GET ON LINE
Long distance relationships
Test the limits of the mind
When bodies can't touch in person
Thank God for web cams
An arrow to the bullseye
A basketball to the hoop
Whichever game you're playing
Give it your best shot
I jiggle when I wiggle
I got some bounce to my ounce
Having sex is not sexy
Porn is deceiving
If I could have some ice cream
With a piece of chocolate cake
Cover it with caramel
The perfect threesome.
LOOSELY BASED ON THE MICHAEL JACKSON SONG SHE’S OUT OF MY LIFE
He’s out of my life
Because he’s got a wife
And I don’t know whether to laugh or cry
If I see him now I’d whack him in the eye
But if I had a knife
I’d pass it on to his wife
He would hold my hands
We’d make love on the sands
To think for two years he was here
He had the best of both worlds now he lives in fear
So I better not expand
Or I’ll soon be on remand!
So I’ve learned that I’m not his possession
And I’ve learned that this guy I hate
Now he’s gone and I’ve got depression
But I’ve learned too late
He's out of my life
Gone back to his wife
Guess I loved him but found out he lied
If I get my hands on him I’ll end up inside
And it cuts like a knife
But the rat is out of my life
10th August 2014
Dot Blogs she was a buxom lass and hefty heifer too
who married Bobby Eugene Blows when she was twenty- two.
They lived upon a dairy farm alongside Boggy Creek
and milked a hundred fresian cows … yes seven days a week.
Now Dotty took to motherhood and had some eighteen kids
and Bobby too was very fond of all his billy lids.
Though life was using hand me downs from hats to underwear,
it taught them old world values; like the gift of how to share.
Dot seldom ventured from the place and trips to town were rare
as she’d become content with life and simple country fare.
But Bob, in a romantic mood, applied his boyish charm
and thought he’d hit the city and get Dotty off the farm.
Their anniversary was due and Bob now thought it time
to hit the big smoke for a change were they could wine and dine.
Well Dot had dressed up to the nines and looked a proper treat,
but how to fit her in the ute had poor Rob kind of beat.
Poor Dot was three axe handles when one measured ’cross her rump
and putting things politely she was rather flamin’ plump.
But Dot she was a country girl and just jumped in the back
and soon both her and husband Rob were heading down the track.
The cities razzle dazzle blew both Dot and Rob away
and headed for the classy place where they were gonna stay.
But when Dot hit the doorway well she then ran out of luck,
as she was jammed there tightly and evidently stuck.
The chaps behind the service desk and three bell boys as well
they tried to push poor Dotty free but Robby knew darn well
that Dottie’s hefty hips were simply wedged in there too tight
and going out to wine and dine was now in doubt that night.
Just then a bell boy cried out loud, “I have a plan for sure.
I’ll grab the local rugby team that’s dining right next door.”
The forwards packed behind poor Dot and gave it all they had,
but all they did was stir her up and she was getting mad.
Then Rob remembered once back home how Bert the bull was jammed
real tight inside the race they had and how they fin’lly planned
to rub his hips with lots of grease and on the count of three
they’d hit him with a jigger and you’re right … he busted free.
The Motel staff then whipped around and searched each patron’s bag
and grabbed all sorts of greasy stuff their little hands could snag.
Rob rubbed old Dottie’s hips all down and laid it on real thick,
then grabbed the night guards stun gun; it was sure to do the trick.
Poor Dot she kicked and bellowed when the voltage hit her hide
and man she cut some capers and she went all goggle eyed.
She snorted and she struggled like some poor wild frightened beast,
but just like Bert, Rob did admit, she busted free at least.
Now Dot is back at Boggy Creek and though poor Rob tries hard
she won’t budge from the Dairy farm; she just won’t budge a yard.
Poor Rob now does the shopping and the thing he finds bizarre
Is rubbing Dot down ev’ry night where two prongs left a scar.
©Bush Poet and Balladeer - Merv Webster
From Life of Cat
From life of a cat what can we learn?
Never have seen one wearing a sunburn
Our cat we do have that does exist
Seems to think he is a ventriloquist.
Took meow test and great grade he made;
To write poems even tried to persuade
Sweet and low chariot was met by a meow
And what I am about to learn no one knew.
In our house, cat has a humble place to live
Sufficient food and water to him, we will give
But when he wants to eat by himself alone
He likes ice cream served on a crunchy cone.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
So where is the cat poem contest at?
3 polished oak fans,
Swirling in robotic unison
High maintenance socialites,
Sipping on Merlot fallacies
Lemon yellow coated walls,
Like their smiles
Comparisons of dangling Porsche & Bentley keys
A glorified day care center,
The muted virtuosos speak softly in hymn dialects.
Courtesy laughter in snob’s octave
Their heads twitching side to side,
Left to right to left
An equilibrium facing assault charges against self
They slow dance to cello dreams
And E minor dividends
Two-step monotone, sway
Against platinum lacquer foundations
But, it was then.
These same socialites,
Made of recycled candle wax
And rubberized, hedge-fund confidence,
Began to stare longingly at the party host’s 70 inch plasma TV
Proudly imported from China
“Attention uptight snobs of Mecca!
The city zoo has imploded!
The monkeys revolted!
The zebras were tired of being racially profiled!
Run for your LIV…!”
And before the reporter’s frightened inner child could finish’s his clause,
An elephant crashes into the decadent room
Filled with Crisp linen scents of Febreze & judgmental fear
It stares at the socialites,
Laughing heartedly as it playfully stomps away into constellation’s onyx night
As tears waterfall from the snobs’ sobbing eye sockets
As if they just listened to another Celine Dion song
The real newsflash
Metaphors played hooky today
©Drake J. Eszes
Double oh Sevens
The gamble of dangerous men
Poets who carry guns
To shoot out the hearts
Of unsuspecting ladies
A single word, a bullet
That can wound or kill the love
Of any careless romance
Yet they fall at the feet
Of mystery and sweet words
And later in the evening
Tears flow from ladies of sadness
Left alone among the sheets of love
The Spy, he could save the world
Yet save not one single love
He grew old and alone
His last thought among the living
I die a lover, and never felt love
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.
A true story....
Well I lived in Sioux City for a little while
Another job site, hubby and I have covered some miles
While there, my mother in law came to visit
She drove Elvira, the biggest Buick ever made
No doubt about it!
I drove mom around to see the highlights
If you've been there, you know there's nothing but corn in sight
Suddenly the cars in front of us started to slow
Wondering which way around this pillow they needed to go
Well some went left and some went right
Some straddled over it and seemed alright
Mom said baby, it will be OK
Just drive right over it
Elvira won't notice anything in her way
I lined up perfectly and over we went
Thought I'd made it until visions were sent
Into the rear view mirror of down floating everywhere
And it wasn't pleasant!
I could see people on the sidewalks laughing, I pretended not to care
As millions of feathers floated through the air
Really embarrassed I drove on about one hundred feet
Then Elvira stopped dead right there in the street
Somehow the drive train had caught the cotton cover
Ripping it to shreds, wrapping it round and round so tight
Until it killed the engine dead
Now I know God works in mysterious ways
But He proved it for sure this very day
In a parking lot next to where Elvira had died
Was a complete race car driver's pit crew - no lie!
An 18 wheeler with trailer in tow
Guys dressed in uniforms, patches aglow
With traffic backing up behind us
They came over to see what was all the fuss
I said spitting feathers out of my mouth
I really don't know, I'm from down south
They opened their trailer and out came the jacks
Air hoses and tools, they got down on their backs
From under the car I heard laughter and jokes
They'd seen cars stopped by everything but a pillow!
Well I thanked them and shook each and every hand
They wouldn't accept money, said the entertainment was grand
I often wonder who they were and if they remember Elvira and the pillow in Iowa land....
Have you ever squeezed a lemon before?
(you very might well have and just not realized it).
Each time you grab the steering wheel, you feel determined:
There's no way in hell you're waiting another minute!
A lemon is sure a close call,
and anyone's capable of it - every Tom, Dick and Harry.
Sometimes you don't see it at all,
until you look up and realize it's already turned cherry.
It's a rarer site to see someone squeezing that one,
but there's no doubt it happens now and then.
Some call it stupid, others brave and daring.
Me? I just wanna get out of the car and grab a pen.
Squeezing a lime sounds much more safe.
Feeling a bit less brave, a small price to pay,
for living another glorious day.
But my dad is a different sort all together.
He goes through the entire fruit smoothie, it's just his way.
There'll be honking from behind,
people yelling, "What are you friggin' color blind?
Get off the Bluetooth, man!".
And I'm just sitting in the front seat thinking,
"I have such great writing material, so close at hand".
I'll have my head crouched low
feigning embarrassment, but in reality
this man, driving me, where I need to go
is the spitting image of myself
forty years down the road...
I do not know?
If you should search for knowledge
To answer the riddle of your self
All the books found on every library shelf
Might not relieve your puzzle a smidge
Because ‘h’ is the difference of self from shelf
Search within and you’ll see without eyes.
Things happen in a test tube
That we can easily observe and explain
But anywhere outside of it
It’s not quite the same
That’s because it’s out in the open
Where there’s less control and closure.
Some advise taking only two steps
Once into and once out of water
Supposedly while you’re watching
Perpendicular to a flowing stream
So firstly you get your feet wet
And then you get them dry.
Or you take the opposite length
Over the adjacent length
Then every measured distance
Makes each tangent different
But if trigonometry was used at Pisa
That’s not why the place is famous.
So if a princess was in a tower
And let’s assume she was a prisoner
At least she should have a window
Because horizons offer a fine view
Then the next time the witch calls her
Rupunzel throws down her chair.
Fake Words – Zamreen Zarook
God have given us mouth,
Not to speak to north and south,
Tongue is given under an oath,
So it’s our duty to protect them both.
Girls chat fake with boys,
Having a notion that the boys are toys,
They often make varied noise,
Thinking to keep a trap on handsome guys.
Boys are also human being,
So it’s not possible being clean,
Things varies in the way they are seen,
So positive thinking will make you keen.
Boys’ minds are pure,
As it is pure bio,
So don’t try to pour vino,
Which will take decades to get cure.
I bring hit after hit like a boxer
You haters' inconsistent
Everybody's on the same vibe
Mine's kinda' different
Verse hot, hook hot--
I'm gon' sellout soon as I drop
Verse hot, hook hot--
I'm gon' sellout soon as I drop
Minor in poetry, fine-arts major
Doctor goon on deck, call this a fear-factor
I'm going in, but I ain't got no curfew
I son a lot of you, it's like I birth you
Got a lot of verses, but this ain't a Bible
Fallout when you hear this, I ain't liable
Ain't talking 'bout tearing, but the beats R.I.P
Didn't sell a lot of tracks, but I got D.O.E
Put you up on game, my hustle's M.O.E
Music over everything, ain't moving 'D'
I got cash like the bank, I sell CD's
Smells funny, tickled my nose, I might sneeze
You would think I'm water, the way I flow
I'm just like some dynamite, bound to blow
Act like you're in a recliner, lay back
If I ain't on fire, then why they say that?
Feature, feature, can I get a feature
So far ahead I sit on competition--bleacher
My Raps' like a bunch of apartment buildings, complex
Got chicks on my jock', ain't talking 'bout sex
I'm so different, it's magnificent
Haters want me to fall, but that's not how the script went
Thing's fishy, I ain't gettin' caught in that net
Just killed the beat, without breaking a sweat
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Cookies are addictive!
OoOoH! Here's one to snatch!
Okay...where's the chocolate chips?
Kraving too many of these treats
I want some now! But...I might get beeefy...
Every bite is mouthwatering, soft and crisp
Should I take another cookie?
Sense of humour, elevating our spirits
Musing over the simple things in life, rejoicing at what we find
Imagination stimulated, childlike, seeing the wonders in life
Light heartedness, laughing at one’s self!
Everything as it is meant to be, smiling, enjoying, the gift of life
I do not know?
Oh say can I see
By the big florescent lights
Once so proudly now has fell
Fell into reality?
Fell into right?
Fell into a time where there should have never been a fight!!
With ’In God We Trust ' printed on every dollar.
But God got kicked out so Columbine became the shocker.
But was it also ' In God We Trust ' when we failed to see nothing but color?
With the hoses put down,
and Dr King no longer around,
is ‘The Dream’ still being reached?
Is it a sign that the first homes we see
are no longer a possibility?
When the Towers came down,
we were 'United we Stand'
But when gas prices rose it was,
“You're on your own, man!”
‘A penny saved is a penny earned,’
is from the man that first helped us try to learn.
But when we stopped asking what our country can do for us,
is that the time when the table turned?
Now that Rosa will no longer be on the bus,
I wonder who will now take that seat for all of us.
With Miss America in the cast,
when will we ever see Miss Disability last?
What happened to the times of ‘I am not a crook’,
it took a back seat to the Man who wrote the Book.
And the rockets red glare,
with bombs still bursting in the air,
is it wrong to fight for the night
when our children’s children will still be there.
Walk before you speak.
Lend your voice that seek.
Foot forward and back.
So will that be a fact.
Gone by and be well.
Trip up and put into a cell.
Got no one to talk to.
I want a phone call to sue.
When I wake from my slumber.
I wish not to be hit by lumber.
Going to become a dreamer.
I hope that I do not become a screamer.
I got new shoes.
With colorful strings that are loose.
I am slow on tying them.
I feel they are harder than stem.
String are not new.
They smell pew.
I walk once again to journey.
That means I need some money.
Trip up again with meaningless acts.
Walking with out trust that lacks.
Shamefulness I speak.
I go behind a tree to leak.
I have no home set in stone.
Wheeling and dealing always alone.
Since I was a child that was left on the street.
I became a street beat.
Strolling with confidence to day.
Making my way.
Some law men stop me.
I was so out of it that they can see.
They thought I was on drugs.
I was really itching bugs.
Stumbling because I have not eaten.
So they grab me and I got beaten.
They finally found me innocent.
So I told them to get bent.
I was a good citizen with high hopes.
The society today thinks I am on dopes.
Can I be help with no pain.
Will they put me some were I will gain.
So I was put into a helpful place.
I was then able to eat and say grace.
Some crazy person came in and started shooting.
So people ran and started looting.
Cannot get away from bad luck.
Sure enough I feel so stuck.
Knowing that I was fleeing.
I became worth not seeing.
I lay there my time just feeling has pass.
Losing my mind and running out of gas.
Finally I hear a person the sound sounds so weak.
A life time that I wanted to seek.
Found myself in a bed.
Down to nothing I was shed.
A person with white clothes that said your in luck.
You survived and now you owe some buck.
So sad not really glad.
Bad thing was the kid that was shooting was my lad.
Time really passes I just want to walk.
To see my kid to talk.
Why did he do what he did.
Dad he said I was starving and I am a kid.
So I have turn to a life time of crime.
Dad do not give me your time.
Because when we talked long ago.
You just left home with all the doe.
Hope you have a good life.
Because mom had been a good wife.
Now it is your turn.
So you can walk into the fire and burn.
With out a doubt you will walk away.
Trip on and Trip up and you will never pay.
Now dad keep your love.
Because I seek my mother above.
You will be chain.
Down you go insane.
You know why I run game? It's 'cause I'm a player
I'm the night in shining armor, she's a dragon, I'm gon' slay her
That means when I beat it up, I'm gonna kill it
Tell her keep our business to herself, don't spill it
Can't follow directions, then it's on to the next
Hope you get the message, not talking 'bout a text
I sleep with more chicks than a night-gown
Without 'em I'm like a sentence with no noun
For those who don't know that means incomplete
It's a race to get 'em first, I gotta' compete
They wanna be on the team, tryin' to make the cut
True player, show no feelings, keep 'em in a shell, walnut
Females fill my atmosphere, they mean the world to me
I got damsels galore, it's always plural with me
Got gangs of chicks, which one should I bang
They're steady in my face, sort of like some bangs
Hate when they try to lock me down, I'm not in jail
She starts talking 'bout marriage, then I'm gonna bail
Sometimes I need my space, like a vacant lot
I hate being congested, like a nose filled with snot
Hey, stop bugging me, you startin' to act like a knat
Before you go, give me head, I need it like a hat
P aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace
I can’t help but wonder, about the blunder, of building a one room log cabin,
Where man and wife, lived a private life, ‘til kids became real, not imagined
With no partitions, or new additions, you’d think their sex life would run ashore.
But they both knew, how to make it through, by inventing a thing called the chore.
As each kid did sprout, pa had to go out, and think up a new job for the tot.
He soon realized, that for his farm’s size, there were more tots then jobs to be got.
And the matriarch, made the remark, that inside we plum ran out of space.
So they tried to rid, their house of kids, as fast as were made in the first place.
At last the last lad, made a nice lass glad, got married and had a grand party,
But pa had ma’s hind, right on his mind; they arrived at the party, tardy.
Well all went ok, until the sad day, when the old man’s life ran out of time.
And then poor ma, lost her chutzpah, plus the cabin exceeded its prime.
So ma did call, her last son Paul, asked if he knew what she should do then,
He said oh dear, I just moved here, and that we don’t even have a den.
But son relents, and acts the gent, there is space in one nook of our room.
If you feed cows, and all the sows, cause heck ma, I’ve got a new bride groom.
A bit of fun
There is a man crying
In a AA van on the edge of town
I think he is heading for a
One more alien... an extra terrestrial. Bloody foreigners.
Where I'm from we don't do debts, fronts, or take tabs
They don't understand nothing but stashing cash
Put that money on the head, you don't need a mask
They don't understand nothing but stashing cash
How is a broke fool gon' try and smash
They don't understand nothing but stashing cash
Money on my mind like bread on a sandwich
I run the city, they're the lights, I'm the switch
I stand for what's mine, never see me slip and fall
I'm runnin' the race, you're a baby with a slow crawl
My cash stay on point, like a sharpened pencil
Try 'n' copy my style, you gon' need mo' than a stencil
I don't be's in the trap, buy my workers put-in overtime
Feds can't catch me, never see me committin' crime
That's why from time to time I shoot 'em a raise
And tell 'em to stash cash for those rainy days
If money talk, then there's nothing to say
If B.S walk, none of ya' fools can stay
My money talkin' for me, betta' yet, it's in a conversation
Ya' look like money; make money, nice observation
They say the love of money's the root of all evil
So how much money will it take to really love people
You sculpt the clay of my life
With your rigid hands,
Shouting your high commands through morning alarms.
As you collect your daily payment of attention.
When I find myself savoring life’s sweetness,
You sprint behind my back.
And when pain drops my heart from my chest,
You linger, rubbernecking from the wall.
You enclose the whole of my life
In that circular frame,
Ever spinning in your infinite math,
Drunk with power!
I can take no more of your tyranny!
I can afford no more of your triple A battery lunches-
I am afraid you’ve run out of time.
So keep your hands out of my business, I’m sleeping in today.
Jacob Reinhardt 09/05/2013
At a time inconvenient it teases,
As it comes whensoever it pleases.
Creeping ever so sly,
It will make you yell, "Why?!"
And the thing that I speak of is sneezes.
She smiles all day she thinks it' s o.k.
She makes weird sounds and it's all day
My Aunt I asked will you not make that silly sound today?
My Aunt looked at me and said why? she always say
In public she snorts when she laughs and I get that
But when things get out of hand she scares my the cat
I have a cat but my Aunt well she kinda sat
Poor little cat it was now a furry little mat
I get really mad at her, but she seems to make me smile
Because one day we walked, she sang me a song about a mile
I was happy because she ran out of gas at last
She also could not speak at all, and that was a blast
Although she could not speak
She kept smiling she once never look bleak
My Aunt Willy who's Silly is the person who never does things in half's
I can not express any louder she makes me smile with laughs
I do not know?
She was caught short in France one day
I need the toilet was all she could say
She wished she could speak French
The best she could manage was…
C’est lavvy! ...
Contest: C’est La vie
Sponsor: Judy Konos
~awarded 2nd place ~
My story is full of plot
It'll surely amuse you a lot
From a shop a bun I bought
Stealthily without being caught
Rested for a while in the cot
I was tired pretty no doubt
Soon with my wife yes I fought
Since she wanted pizza hot
She was angry for I was a blot
Soon poured water on me with pot
Suddenly I woke from the bed rot
Only to douse her anger I thought
Moral is must for teacher and tot
Of course come might what..!!
The gloomy doomers say
life’s a bitch and then you die,
then your soul goes straight to hell.
I reply that if what they say is true,
at least you will get to spit in the devil’s eye.
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?