A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Facebook I wonder if you are a blessing or a curse?
People Sharing their pictures and videos of their best and worst.
Clever sayings, obscenities, prays and vulgarity.
Show up on your pages with some form of regularity.
You will find people you have seen or haven’t seen for years.
Laughing one minute and then shedding a river of tears.
Selfies of woman showing what God has given them to cherish
Proudly displaying themselves when they should be embarrassed.
Religion and Politics is a good way to stir the emotional pot.
Both thinking their right when you know for sure they’re not.
You can share your likes, dislikes and give a comment or two
But be careful not to be too honest or you might just be removed.
Games of every kind you will find here for your pleasures delight
Sending requests to people even when they don’t want your invite.
Facebook is a place people display their everyday life with others
Making statements that could hurt or showing love for your mother.
Facebook is not the one I should blame for what it shows on its feed
It’s just an empty space to fill with life’s true nature for others to read.
So before you post your thoughts and feelings in this open space
Ask yourself would this be something I would be willing to share face to face?
Copyright © Erin Soares-Anselmi | Year Posted 2014
Inspired by another poem by another poet---------just for fun
Oh, I didn't know that cowboys
weren't respected and revered
John Wayne, when he passed away
Brought me close to tears
But now I know that people
Think we're all just trailer trash
So I've taken of my boots
And tossing out my hats
There's no more eating beans
upon these dirty plates
And movin' from this trailer park
Oh brother I can wait
But, putting cars on blocks
Oil changes in the yard
Stopping those activities
I swear it will be hard
Beer cans won't get piled high
In a pyramid, way out back
My pit bulls won't be barkin'
Always ready to attack
Soon I'll trade-in my pick-up
For a brand new SUV
And I'll become more citified
For the whole dang world to see
I won't mistreat my woman
And call her an old cow
And I won't let my kid's
Ride a bull, or catch a sow
Oh, I didn't know that cowboys
Were just lazy and no good
So we're moving from the country
Right to your neighborhood
Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014
There once was a tweeter who didn’t tweet
An air of mystery, she decided to keep
Bad twitter account
But still, she wouldn’t tweet a peep
Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2018
One of Life’s indisputable facts:
Government reserves the right to tax;
And tho’ they waste far more than they should,
It’s supposedly done “for the common good.”
Economists use the word “propensity,”
Just a fancy word for “odds”, you see:
The odds you’ll save, the odds you’ll spend,
And how many Tax Dollars those odds will rend.
The basis for U.S. government budgets is “Total Tax Dollars Collected”;
And any overtures to reduce those collections are summarily rejected;
And should a source of taxes have declined or dissipated,
Other taxes are increased and/or new taxes are created.
Many, if not most, of these taxes are “regressive”.
That means their actual impact on income is “progressive”...
But “progressive” in a very negative way.
Relatively speaking, the Less you make, the More you pay.
Whether you make it or sell it, need it or want it, Congress will tax it;
And, once a tax is on the books, Congress has zero “propensity” to relax it.
Congresses, Federal and State, love to tax Luxury and Sin;
Smoking Sinners have had their taxes raised again and again and again.
Cigarette taxes are frequently raised, the “claim” is to drive users to quit;
But Truth is measured in Billions in taxes, so we know supporters are “full of it.”
Meantime, Non-smokers reap many benefits, while Smokers foot the bill;
And if that should change, Non-smokers would taste a financially “bitter pill.”
Taxed and taxed and taxed some more, but not yet into submission,
Smokers could shift their tax burden to Non-smokers…without their permission.
Yes, what if one Fateful day, those Smoking Sinners, Each and Every one,
Just put them down and said, “I quit.”; said en masse, “We’re done!”
Congresses would be clamoring to derive Billions in Taxes elsewhere,
At first, Non-smokers may not realize the impact they’re about to bear.
When an industry dies, businesses and people’s jobs are lost…it’s true;
But all those Tax Dollars must come from somewhere...the likes of me and you.
So righteous, whining Non-smokers maintained their hue and cry.
Ever pushing Congresses to tax those Smoking Sinners… tax them ‘til they die;
But after quitting, Ex-Smokers would pay less, while Non-Smokers would pay more.
Guess Non-smokers didn’t think far enough ahead, didn’t really know the score.
All those dreary anti-smoking ads, many of which falsified the cause,
Would disappear. And what about all the useless anti-smoking laws?
Instead of Non-smokers not liking Smokers, Ex-Smokers would serve instead.
"The bastards are costing me money. I wish they had smoked 'til they were dead."
So, Ex-smokers would be getting healthier and spending far less;
And may be cause for some Non-smokers’ financial distress.
While they ruefully pay more, Ex-smokers' pocket books will attest
By reminding Non-smokers daily......the Last Laugh is Best.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Written 7 March 2014
Bruce and Jennie, both were 10,
Had been playmates all their lives.
One day, Bruce proclaimed,
“Jennie… most good men have wives.”
He professed his love for her.
Jennie said she loved him too.
They decided that getting married
Was ‘the right thing’ to do.
So, Bruce went to speak to her father,
Who was doing yard work at the time.
“May I speak to you, Mr. Johnson?”
“Sure, Bruce. What’s on your mind?”
“Sir, I love your Jennie;
And Jennie, she loves me;
But we need your permission
To be married… to be “We.”
Impressed by Bruce’s courage,
He knew this confrontation must be tough.
He smiled and asked, “Bruce, are you sure
You love my daughter enough?”
Bruce’s face became stern, he said,
“Mr. Johnson, let me tell you…
I love Jennie so much…and she loves me.
We’re both sure it’s the right thing to do.”
He was moved by Bruce’s ardor,
But permission was not his to give.
So, quick as flash, he responded,
“But Bruce…where will you live?”
“Sir, I measured her room;
Then I measured mine.
Hers is 40 percent bigger.
We’ll live there. We’ll be fine.
If we have extra stuff,
We’ll keep that in my room.
We’ll keep our places neat and tidy.
You won’t even need a broom.
And both our parents can save money
On babysitters too.
Even if you do things on the same night,
You’ll only need one sitter, not two.”
Mr. Johnson was impressed with his logic,
But this marriage idea was no longer funny.
He smiled and said, “That’s good thinking, Bruce;
But what are you gonna do for money?
“Why, Mr. Johnson, I get twelve-fifty a week allowance;
And let me remind you, Jennie also gets ten.
Throw in our birthdays and Christmas cash….
Why, we might even have money to lend.”
Desperate now, he thought,
“Next, I guess they’ll want a car.”
Then he asked, “But Bruce, what if you have kids?”
"Aawww," blushed Bruce... “We’ve been lucky so far.”
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
One is love,
Zero is everything else.
Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016
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.
Copyright © Whitney Foley | Year Posted 2013
No, we weren't a couple one expected.
"What could she be thinking", one reflected.
Yet we held an undefined attraction;
Some subconscious neuron interaction.
After weeks we gathered our composure
Time to face my parents' first exposure.
True, your looks were just a bit off kelter(sic).
Poets often live at homeless shelters.
Mother stiffened, held her throat, and gasped.
Father never moved, in shock perhaps.
Then we vowed to do what we must do.
Freight trains leave at seven, ten and two.
Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014
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
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Star Trek Rules!
It was time for: Comic Con! Comic Con! Dragon wanted to come, too!
But then so did everyone else at Troll Lake… Hey, now, wouldn’t you?
We made some really cool costumes… for the costume show, my Dear.
You can guess, ‘Star Trek Rules!’ It couldn’t be anything less, you hear.
Our favorite nighttime popcorn show, would truly now, become a part of our lives!
The penguins got permission from the zoo; to go… great publicity, so very wise.
McRacoon had his Las Vegas Dragons get us, and a mock saucer, there, all on time.
Naturally pre-registered and in costume, we strutted in! Hi there! Began the playtime!
Man we were really cool, as the guest actors ask for OUR autographs. For Real!
Pictures were snapped, and a poster made, to be signed by everyone, so cheerful.
It’s highest bid, given to charity, would be a nice touch, for everyone in our crew.
The costume show was set outside, where all the dragons, could fly in, or out, too.
And a small mock, star ship was landed on stage, so we could enter with more flare.
Lord a mercy! Look at us! We’d never be like this, again! We were like stars, I swear!
Grandpa Troll, became Mr. Spock, naturally, because he was so, very clever and wise.
Our neighbor witch, was Uhura, due to her great ability to, protect everyone’s’ lives.
Borp the Frog became Sulu, so he could take us up to Borp speed, with laser effects!
Hubby was Scotty, with the Tinker Trolls in engineering, for special effects, so perfect!
The penguins were the beloved crewmembers, running with lasers, all over the place.
The powder puff tribbles, got wet, so yes, became the ‘Trouble with Dribbles’, in space.
The Mary River Turtles wanted to be Checkov. What a groovy, exciting, security team.
Dragon wanted to be Captain Kirk, you know, like totally, in command… At the scene!
All agreed, I’d be a great Dr. McCoy, since I always get to, kiss the Boo- Boo’s away.
The Weird Frogs were the Aliens, chasing everyone mindlessly, around, the set, that day.
And the Las Vegas Dragons, became attacking star ships, over which our lasers won!
The crowds went wild, and we won first place in their hearts, as well as, in their minds!
Everyone had, such a good time, so the Trek continued, well after, when we got home.
That year Comic Con made the National news, and of course, nobody, was surprised!
As the residents of Troll Lake and Acorn Falls… continue to Trek on… every day!
By Mike and Carol Eastman…
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013
Gather close to read how things go down
Filling empty spaces with written sound
Turn it towards loud and alert the town
What of life went missing must be found
In the palm or on demand
Social illusion data jam
Bytes have taken command
Media cascading that dam
A little bit, not too much
Techno-legit, um, and such
Copyright © ... Gigno | Year Posted 2013
She was a tappin' to the tunes...
of those Mississippi blues...
step-pin' out, in her white...
We were a watchin' her a prancin',
all through the kitchen, dancin'...
for she was so...hot & sizzlin'...
hummin' to those Mississippi tunes...
Funny curlers too, upon...
her head...for a new... Hair dew,...
she was, a swirlin'-in that bakers apron,
when her head...star-ted a bobbin' to...
those Mississip-pi blues,
'Pots were a knockin'...
Grandma a sockin' down all she brews,
while that kettle there was whistlin',
in har-mo-ny, with them good ole...
good ole...mississip-pi moves,'
That floor there, was a bouncin'
holdin' hands we were a jumpin',
an-a hoppin' In the kitchen, to those...
Where Grandma's feet were a stompin',
In her new...New-white-sexy-pat-en-
Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013
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
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
The Soul is the Beautiful Light of Love
Shining like the sun through the
As the reader, I’m going to have to cut you off there.
Here’s a metaphor for you…
Reading is ****ing.
And your words hit our auditory canals
Like a hotdog down a hallway.
As an experienced reader, I’m after
The virgin vernacular
The aphrodisiac aphorism
You know- the big… black words
You feel me?
Because a line is a flashlight, exposing the world’s nudity-
And we’ll never get anywhere shining it in the same spot.
So kiss me with classy couplets
Smack my assonance!
Bring me to the climax-
And we’ll share a smoke together,
Warm beside the fire of your Three Inch Clichés.
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
If you like adventure you will like Match.com,
But many of them you won’t want to take home to meet your Mom.
Each guy you see is a brand new slate.
It's like an interview, looking for a potential soulmate.
Some dates have a good sense of humor and seem great,
Then some on the first date have been real cheapskates!
I’ve had some dates that I could not wait to leave,
As they whined about their ex, wearing their heart on their sleeve.
One professor met me on the first date with roses, and was so sweet.
But I discovered he had a love for his drink, and I couldn’t compete.
There have been school administrators, men in business, and sales,
Some that seem very easy-going, and some as tough as nails.
One of the most interesting by far was a farmer…
Living a country life with his animals, he was a real charmer.
There are many shysters on match too, pretending to be single,
But married… and just looking to intermingle.
There are those that are looking for money that are crooks,
That will wine you and dine you with their good looks.
To protect yourself, get a background report before you date,
Then you don’t have to wonder if you will meet an inauspicious fate.
Copyright © Brenda McGrath | Year Posted 2016
Time does our earth presence sever
But the post office is clever
And offers for sale
For its eternal mail
A stamp that is good forever
Author's note: The idea that anything associated with this planet will be consumed "forever" is peculiar and laughable. It is also destructive in that business holds the truth in shadows.
Copyright © Duke Beaufort | Year Posted 2013
What you add up to may be less,
Than what’s inside and unseen,
But your behaviour will determine,
Happiness by where you've been.
Our processes can be perceived,
By family members or role-models,
Maybe hierarchically by meaning,
But definitely by our rationals.
You can get real with them easily,
Or be as complex as meteorology,
Make a point or sensible relation,
To demand a finite sociology.
When there’s a series of events,
That diverge in extrapolation,
You can associate with friends,
In commutative permutation.
They mean absolute convergence,
Rhyme with you and find time,
For an ellipsis you’ve allowed,
Which you’d like objectified fine.
You won’t falter with summation,
It is inductively correct by step,
Your base won’t make you a case,
‘Cos your hypothesis will schlep.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
Pardon me sir, but did you not just break wind?
Pardon me sir, but don't you feel a bit chagrined?
Pardon me sir, but I deem your faux pas mighty gross!
Pardon me sir, but you've left me feeling a bit morose!
Pardon me sir, but on this bus we don't enjoy your sop!
Pardon me sir, may I suggest you de-bus at the next stop!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for Poetess Darkly's "Pardon Me, Did You Just..." Contest
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2013
I post on my wall when I’m Happy.
I post on my wall when I’m sad.
I post on my wall for no reason at all,
and upload snaps of food I’ve just had.
I’m ever so popular on facebook.
I’ve got nine-hundred-and-eighty best friends.
What? – no, of course I’ve not met them all!
That’s a custom our deep-bond transcends.
Copyright © David Sollis | Year Posted 2014
Well, I’m in Target®, last week, on a shopping spree,
When I realize that I really needed to pee,
Now, I know their restroom policies are new,
As to where one can now, go pee or poo.
So, off I go in search of the lav,
That I’ve read about and I know they have,
It must be somewhere; it was all the news,
About confused people and conflicting views.
Now I feel like I’m holding back the falls,
When I spot some symbols high on a wall.
I run to the wall, and on the door below,
Are some symbols I’ve seen and some I don’t know.
On the door there are more, arrows and crosses,
Then can be found in most college, physics courses,
What do I do, which one is me,
After all, I just have to pee.
So I open the door, just a bit,
And see someone I think is a biker chick.
But I can’t be sure, so I close the door,
Afraid to open it any more.
But I really must pee, so I peek again,
And some look like women and some like men.
And I find myself as confused as ever,
When I spy a guy, in a dress, made of feathers.
So, I’m holding myself now, like when I was three,
And rocking back and forth like a windblown tree,
When up at the sign, I take one last glance,
But, Oops, too late, I peed my pants.
Copyright © Jerry Troiano | Year Posted 2017
To Dine, To Die;
While thunderous eyes
Grasp concepts to recycle.
Constant debt crisis
A political paradox
Grating social devices
Over the sorting of socks.
An endless groan
The debate grants no throne.
Over a roast
Potatoes won't listen
To who talks the most.
"That point is so interesting"
The floor is open for chat
"What is real?" not a thing
"Meow" adds the cat.
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
I hate this world of hand held phones,
where phoney social media projections
can shape and brake reputations.
I don’t need the attention
or self validation,
so I don’t need to write a goodness gracious Facebook status,
all happy clappy,
I rant angry,
because rants are impulsive
I don’t press buttons and wait for responses.
Leave your phone behind pretend you forgot it,
let’s have a world no social media day,
just leave it plugged into the electrical socket,
and live the good old fashioned way.
Where you don’t need a thumbs up,
you don’t zone out in public,
your pocket isn’t disruptive
and you only speak with whom your out with.
In a pub with a pint and a packet of peanuts
and an "if we get lost location to meet up".
Before the taunting tweet on Twitter,
the “I’m bored” look at Facebook,
the glace at the confused posing pouting woman on Instagram,
or any of the others that do the same as one another.
A picture of the fake tan you have
making you look like something from a Tango ad.
It doesn’t matter where I am,
camped in a caravan
or stuck in a traffic jam,
the picture of your baked beans, eggs and ham
that’s on Facebook as well as Instagram,
is something of which I don’t give a damn.
Here’s 108 pictures of each individual pea eaten by my Nan,
does this perspective show why it doesn’t matter man!?
Social interaction is a direct communication
but looking at the same screen as others is “Unconteraction”.
As in Un-Contact-Inter-Action,
giving you a fraction of the satisfaction.
Facebook, Instagram and Twitter
there really is nothing shitter.
Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2017
My Clone Got No Soul
My clone, it seems, came out with no soul,
I guess it got lost, in the petri dish bowl.
In the mirror, a face like me would come through,
But that’s where it ended,
He was more like Deep Blue.
He never did find that “happy” place,
He never belonged, to the whole human race.
I wanted to console my clone with no soul,
But which part was actually there to console?
His head, his heart, his hand or his foot,
That’s a soulless sole, with no spiritual root.
He tried yoga, and diet, and Zen meditation,
But the chakras weren’t there for his elevation,
And soon he came down with “no motivation.”
I gave him the novel, that old Frankenstein,
He was all Shelly and shell shocked,
And out of his mind.
He took to drink, his gourd to console,
He even packed up, a nice little bowl.
I guess any change of mind will do,
When you’re trapped in your ego,
All cornered and blue.
So I bought him a TV,
With a satellite dish,
But it didn’t satisfy, not one single wish.
“Too many reruns,” he said with a stare,
“Heather’s cheating on Alex, but what do I care.”
I’ve got more problems that are troubling me,
All existential and twisted, to the nth degree,
My guanine, and cytosine, none of them blessed,
My adenine, thymine, just like the rest,
All of them sequenced, in neat little clips,
Here comes the four horsemen,
Of my apocalypse.
I felt sorry for him, so sorry you see,
It was not his decision, to be all you can be,
Or not to be, that is a question, posed
with Shakespearan glee,
He couldn’t read the fine print, you see
With no eye’s you see. Oh say can you see?
My clone passed a man with a pamphlet to read,
Jesus saves my dear boy, that’s all that you need,
this contract you sign, will grant you God speed.
“I’m soulless and homeless,” said my clone with a smirk,
I haven’t had time, to be a real jerk,
I’ve been in a fog, an unfortunate haze,
I’ve been only alive for a couple of days.”
.My clone moved around on the physical earth,
With no hope of redemption, release, or rebirth,
“If love won’t release me, it’s hate I will breed,”
I‘m a terrible spawn, from a terrible seed.
In a losing game, I have to concede.”
(Now I never thought a twitch, to put him on a shelf,
But when we sat together, he was beside himself.)
My clone on his birthday sighed a terrible sigh,
That he wanted to, “just lay me down and die,”
His desire for this, was so total and blind,
His own DNA began to unwind,
I called up the Church, the Lab, and the State,
That my clone was dying at a terrible rate.
“Your call is extremely important to us”,
As long as you don’t raise, or kick up a fuss.
He died on a cold night on old Halloween,
Alone and frightened at the terrible scene.
And there, I laid my clone to rest,
But alas, he had no soul to bless.
I took a walk, to kick my heart rate,
And was grateful,
that I had a different fate.
And if your neighbor greets you,
with a blank full of stare,
I hope he’s just tired,
and someone’s in there.
But don’t call the Church the Lab or the State,
They usually arrive just a little too late.
Copyright © Mark Leeper | Year Posted 2013
Three sisters - two as lovely as the dawn,
the third, a travesty of face and form
and we - a trio of fine gentlemen,
(to all but former flames, who'd disagree!)
Like Musketeers, we fellows made a set -
one for us all and all of us for one!
So too, these ladies, we learned with dismay,
which left us with no choice but to draw lots...
Good manners and good breeding tantamount,
we chose three cards and tossed them in a hat -
two Queens and one that we had scratched to white
(which would, of course, prescribe the oafish girl)
Sometimes you are the cart, sometimes the ox
and I, a beast of burden soon became!
The first man pulled a heart, the next, a spade
but last to choose - alas! I drew a blank!
Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2016
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).
Copyright © ali hammoud | Year Posted 2013
SPRING IN AIR, LOVE ONLINE 20/02/13
Nowadays , life is so unpalatable and stoic.
So unnecessarily busy and eventfully hectic.
Young folks thus gather in a shadowy discotheque, to kill,
The retreating winter shedding its last chill.
The chirps of the departing migratory,
With massacred green in a concrete urban factory,
Welcomes the spring breeze, and the cuckoo melody tune,
That too so rare,
For a short term vacation, in a vanity fair.
Some emotional fools and roaming vagabond,
Can feel the spring air and reminiscences their fond,
And cry for the past and the long lost love bonds.
Beside them no one dares to mingle,
Their soul with the colour of butterfly twinkle.
No one cares to see the young green boughs,
Dancing in a frolic of crispy air that jingle.
All is there, in the air, except love my dear,
‘Cause love is now confined,
In another little world so secure.
Where there’s no hasty rushing,
No meaningless blushing,
No hassled waiting, no worrying restriction.
Love is just a ready-made parcel,
At a press of a small button.
Love messages, e mails , tweets, face books ,web cyberspace and profile update,
Takes all the bothering responsibility, does all the necessary tete-a-tete.
No need for time taking arguments,
No need for extra commitments.
Sometimes, meetings could be arranged, but
Oh! Never in public park or in a hopeless garden.
It could be in a shopping mall or a cool coffee den.
The gorgeous and the grotty,
All gather at a V-day party.
Those who are privileged,
Share their love with diamonds and wine.
But for others, not a single grape,
Is sour in a vine.
Everything is taken for granted,
Just simple and fine.
‘Cause love can also be shared,
Simply free of cost on line.
Copyright © sangeeta saha | Year Posted 2013
I Spy Something Lumpy (or what I learned on the web today)
Somewhere in the Poconos
A lady was arrested
Her hiding place for heroin
Let’s say was double breasted
170 little bags
Somehow she did hide
For those of you math challenged
That’s 85 per side
Now I’m no fashionista
But even I can tell
85 bags of anything
And a bra will surely swell
So when cops pulled her over
She didn’t stand a chance
She might not have been so busted
Had she hid them in her pants
Copyright © mike dailey | Year Posted 2012
I got the arrow pointing at you
Yeah, you stupid
So everyone around will know
about the next dumb thing you do
You don't go sit on a mall bench, next to little old ladies,
then take off your shoe
That's just plain stupid, even for you
At least you kept your sock on
before you took a chew
You make me want to scream, pull out my hair,
every time you stink up the store,
making everyone flatulently aware
That is so stupid
Go to the bathroom or outside somewhere
and foul up the air
Going shopping with stupid,
they oughta give me some kind of award
For always heading off the next disaster,
whenever he gets distracted or bored
Sifting through the garbage
for that half-eaten tasty treat
Howling with the cartoon videos ...
Wil E. Coyote here, makes me wanna go beep beep,
and run him off the road, put the manbaby to sleep
Stupid is, as stupid does,
that's the saying I suppose
But, man ... why do you have to go walking 'round
with those straws sticking out of your nose
If I'm with Mr. Moron, what does that say about me?
it's stupid of you to even ask --- I'm his zookeeper,
so children, please don't feed the talking monkey
Oh boy, I didn't mean to insult all you monkeys out there,
I know you all are smarter than my man
But if you go shopping with stupid often enough,
you're bound to get stuck in stupid quicksand
I need some help over here,
stupid just knocked over all those cans,
I need some help over here,
stupid just turned on all of those fans
With those fans blowing ...
Cash come raining down like green confetti
during shift transfer
Guess their happy meal was stupid spaghetti
Shopping with stupid has changed everyone's holiday plans
Now everybody loves Mr. Stupid,
for putting all that free money in their hands
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016