Are you one of them, that never fails
to disgust me, sitting across from me
on public transportation, talking trash
to a dog's head, sticking out of a
knock off over-sized Louis Vuitton.
Are you one of those people,
parked on a park bench, on a sunny afternoon,
crowded eatery, or maybe walking the mall
looking for bargains, sipping a six dollar latte
from Starbucks?
I see you with your designer mini mutts,
heads sticking out of those carriers,
bows in their sometimes dyed hair, rhinestone
or diamond studded collars, polished nails.
You talking to them as if they understand.
Sometimes I wish I had a gun, others
a knife would easily do.
Jodie Foster is frying peppers and eggs ~ it is late and her legs
ache as she scrambles the yokes, sautés jalapenos.
Today a jerk again compared her to the movie star ~a life she
never wanted keeps invading her reality, even though she was
born earlier, people consider her the fraud; the fake, the
`knock-off.'
Not for the first time she imagines changing her name, but always
there is a fear of not being compared to anything at all.
There is a loud noise upstairs. She freezes, she recalls
the movie -`Panic Room.' She runs to her downstairs closet,
bolting the door behind her. Footsteps descend - it is Jodie Foster
in her role as Agent Starling. Jodie has a gun and is seeking
her rapist from a previous movie.
Scripts are merging. The Jodi who cooks peppers and eggs
understands why she has always avoided cliffhangers - suspense
thrillers. She cries softly in the dark as she clutches
a Dollar Store spatula, a utensil that will never work
as well as a real branded weapon.
the class
of summer fifty five
left to ply
their business lives
the office partners just two
pens pencils nearly-new
clerking the lowest
of the low
daily drudgery
reality soon shone thru'
down the cellar
my steps did wend
scuttle filled fires to tend
the 'old man ' yelling
'ere lad chop chop
get me baccy
from t'corner shop
wait-on
tea-break brews'
in a stew
bellow the back-office crew
one more task
to get done
for the partner's son
another errand no time to chat
he'd forgotten the fish
for his wife's cat
then
the switchboard clicked
the doorbell chimed
skills to learn juggle prioritise
which to choose to attend
mail in the tray
still to send
whew!
nearly five knock-off time
in view
just one task still to do
fetch the 'boss's evening news
was this really
the career to choose
Getting to know the canned goods aisle
in the dollar store was fun,
the ladies have been most helpful
in finding Chinese knock-off junk.
The Senior Center makes a passable Salisbury steak
and who needs gravy?
Independences has taken a down turn -
our addled leader blames some Russian guy,
the supply train is chained-up somewhere,
eventually we may all die from Global Pawning,
at least we don't need baby formulary anymore,
though we are considering developing a taste
for cat food; I hear 'Whiskers' do a mean
tuna casserole.
When down to your last million dollars
one must be frugal.
Happy Hound Grog Day! Happy Hound Grog Day!
At noon all the hounds sing a song of dance and play.
They will be let loose at a quarter ‘til three.
And they’ll dance with you, Uncle Sammy and me!
Happy Hound Grog Day! Happy Hound Grog Day!
Have a cup of beer, and please say you’ll stay!
The hounds will be around at a quarter ‘til five.
They will do what they can to show you that you’re alive!
Happy Hound Grog Day! Happy Hound Grog Day!
There are some friendly racing dogs heading our way!
Get ready for a lunch that will knock off your socks!
And be sure to bring a watch, or a couple of clocks!
Because on Happy Hound Grog Day we look at the time.
We twirl and whirl in songs, raps, rhythms and rhyme.
Happy Hound Grog Day! Happy Hound Grog Day!
If you like word play, please say that you have come to stay!
“ Care about what other people think,and you will always be their prisoner.”
~Philosopher, Lao Tzu~
So dying to be adored!
Empty as dried out lakes.
Oh, how tragic to behold,
The old, being just fakes.
We, especially who have
trouble seeing or hearing.
Do simply not understand,
At the young, stop your jeering!
Take inventory of our time left.
Knock off telling the old to follow.
Cheapness is our great sorrow.
Hiding well what we have learned.
Flashing our bold sheepskins?
They all should be burned!
Have we learned nothing at all?
Deaf ones, prideful, should be scorned.
Younger poets we treat with derision.
As is we were gods, with some royal
circumcision?
No, no. do not ape the crowds.
Sing your song fearlessly, sing it loud.
Never be cheap, a crowd pleaser.
You, afraid to speak truth?
Nothing but life’s greatest teasers!
12/14/2021
It’s Friday night down at the depot,
and it’s closing in on half past four,
the knock off bell won’t send us home …
Friday night it’s the pub we adore.
The pub’s a great place to relax,
and spend valued time with our mates,
where we laugh, and we joke up a treat,
in surroundings imbibing creates.
But alas there is always somebody,
who is finding themselves in a fix,
they drift off on their own to a corner,
quite depressed and refusing to mix.
Now I’d noticed poor Patrick Dorling,
there looking quite morbid and sad,
sitting alone with glass in his hand,
amid nothing else wishing to add.
So I sidled up close to poor Patrick,
asking ‘what is the matter now Pat?’
Patrick replied, ‘my good wife Mary
has a habit she needs to combat.’
‘I’m finding her restless and angry,
the looks on her face are forlorn,
and I cannot break her out of
staying up until two in the morn.’
‘Good heavens’ I said to poor Patrick,
‘Is her insomnia fairly severe?’
‘Oh no’ Patrick downcast shook his head …
‘Mary’s waiting for me to leave here.’
the class
of summer fifty five
left to ply
their business lives
the office partners just two
pens pencils nearly-new
clerking the lowest
of the low
daily drudgery
reality soon shone thru'
down the cellar
my steps did wend
scuttle filled fires to tend
the 'old man ' yelling
'ere lad chop chop
get me baccy
from t'corner shop
wait-on
tea-break brews'
in a stew
bellow the back-office crew
one more task
to get done
for the partner's son
another errand no time to chat
he'd forgotten the fish
for his wife's cat
then
the switchboard clicked
the doorbell chimed
skills to learn juggle prioritise
which to choose to attend
mail in the tray
still to send
whew!
nearly five knock-off time
in view
just one task still to do
fetch the 'boss's evening news
was this really
the career to choose
Poem 1- writers about a man, arrested for drunk driving.
Looney Poet- "I never did that!."
Poem 2- writes about alcoholism.
Looney Poet-posts:
" I never was a drunken slob"
Poem 3- writes about a man
unfaithful to his wife.
Looney Poet- " I loved my wife
dearly. She passed and
I would never do that."
Must be nice to be a perfect beast.
My guess is, he lies in all these
arrogant bleats.
Why?
There is NO perfect being on this earth.
Poems are written about a poet's experience not you.
Better make an act of contrition. Not one of us are
perfect! Knock off pretending you are.
4/18/2021
Acclimatization is a serious matter.
I mean one cannot keep bouncing around
a kaleidoscopic chameleon-like center
can one?
Therefore I have almost absolved myself from
causing all that emotional mayhem
that a youthful spirit engages upon
not having yet acclimatized itself
to whom I was, or to what I would become.
Was it my fault that all those
‘soon to be’ lovers
bought a copy of me,
an unedited work in progress?
Most who waded in the ankle-deep shallows
of those earlier days were but rough drafts,
early editions of what they eventually turn into.
The maxim: “they know not what they do”
has to apply or we would never arrive at that stage
of namely and to wit,
that stabilized imperfection most achieve.
Though I do pity the girls
who bought that knock-off copy of me,
the women who were scammed
by a none-copyright version of myself,
but to be fair,
they also were none-acclimatized
and should have saw
the dire warning: caveat emptor.
When do we knock off?
Home offices, not for toffs,
I stagger to the desktop,
Yikes, another job!
Guess it won't take me long,
Piss off my phone, should be my song,
We can afford gas for cars vehicular,
But not allowed anywhere particular,
So, we work in the home office,
Jobs designed for masochists!
THE MOST ELOQUENT SILENCE
Two mouths meltingly in mad kiss
So feel this, a good kiss knock off stress & bring peace.
A kiss seals two souls for a moment in time.
Ravel in the mo' with a passion unfathomable, it's no crime
Eyes closed...this won't cost a dime.
A kiss is a silent statement
So have your say in this moment of enjoyment.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 18th November, 2017
Jodie Foster is frying peppers and eggs ~ it is late and her legs ache
as she scrambles the yokes, sautés jalapenos.
Today a jerk again compared her to the movie star ~a life she
never wanted keeps invading her reality, even though she was
born earlier, people consider her the fraud; the fake, the
'knock-off.'
Not for the first time she imagines changing her name, but always
there is a fear of not being compared to anything at all.
There is a loud noise upstairs. She freezes, she recalls
the movie -`Panic Room.' She runs to her downstairs closet,
bolting the door behind her. Footsteps descend - it is Jodie Foster
in her role as Agent Starling. Jodie has a gun and is seeking
her rapist from a previous movie.
Scripts are merging. The Jodi who cooks peppers and eggs
understands why she has always avoided cliffhangers - suspense
thrillers. She cries softly in the dark as she clutches
a Dollar Store spatula, a utensil that will never work
as well as a weapon, than a real branded one.
Alas, about to smash her pen,
Fool that she is~ thinking, oh so
wrongly,
That comments "make"a poem,
a gem? Why no! Hardly!
Hapless, foolish poetess!
Where are your brains?
You know your poem is more than good.
Stop looking for personal fame!
You need a fan club to honor
your work?
(and yes, some do demand it,
total poetic jerks!)
Just knock off being so
superciliously arrogant!
Your poetry is a gift to you~
From God in heaven.
Now!In all humility~ get on with it.
September 24, 2019
*** A special thank you to Matthew Amish for
alerting me to the typo in the title...PR***
life can tough
and very rough
to over power this stuff
you must not get fed up
knock off the dust
to get head
get back in the worlds dance
and
TAKE A CHANCE
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