Best Big Shot Poems
Rain is brewing;
black clouds hang over the Cockpit Country.
Them rainclouds have a habit of shifting colors like a lizard.
The smell of the pending shower is strong on September’s breath;
the sun take a well-deserved break.
Mango season is long gone,
and bellies are tied up in knots.
Naseberries; they accompanied the mangoes.
Them guys from abroad,
who bought the government land across from the football field,
slaughtered them faithful guava trees.
They build condos,
but poor people can’t eat condos.
How inconsiderate them big-shot government boys are.
We (me, Footloose, and Squealie) device a plan,
when our bellies start telling us something must be done,
but we have to wait ‘til darkness falls,
‘cause bushes have eyes in sunlight.
While everyone sleeps in the bosom of the night,
we put on our birthday suits,
and scale the barbed wire fence at the back of the house.
We are now one with the blinding shadows.
We race carelessly across the open pasture;
burrs biting at our tender flesh,
and mosquitoes humming maddening music in our ears.
We tip toe on the dry leaves,
using our hands as shields
to fend off the razor-sharp edges of the cane leaves.
We drop down on all four, bellies on the ground;
we navigate the rows like them American marines – naked and all.
We ate our full,
and Squealie wet the bed that night.
Them sugarcane have a way of making us hyper.
Footloose fell from a Poinciana tree and fractured his hand,
but we stayed energized that fall.
I used to think poetry was about expression
(but some it seems would rather make it a competition)
I used to think beautiful words were meant to encourage growth,
not be used as a pedestal for your ego.
But hey What do I know?
You're the Master of the Pen
in whom we all adore.
Your advice is what we savor
... please tell us more!
But then again Maybe you shouldn't And just listen for a minute
Take a step back and breathe Don't abuse the gift you've been given
You ought to delight in the fact that you are NOTHING (as am I)
Because everything we write, and dream, is nothing but a gift passing by
They don't come because of what you did They come because they come
It's nothing glamorous Nothing special It's like the rising of the sun
Each circuit is a blessing Out of our control Whether we like it or not
So here's what I have to say to the friend we all know Mr. Big Shot
You may be Brilliant with a capital B,
have words that sing like a friggin' symphony,
but have you checked the pulse of your humility?
Is it still beating? Still beating?
Or is it left in the corner bleeding
from your Excalibur Pride.
Yeah, you may be the next Emily Dickinson,
or Edgar Allan Poe.
Have verses that make the minstrels weep,
and thoughts so mesmerizing So deep
But if your soul ain't pouring on the page -
if you write for reasons that are shallow -
on your Magnum Opus I'd rather turn the page!
(yes, it really happened! I rhymed 'page' with 'page'
Shakespeare I know Must be rolling in his grave!)
To tell the truth I'd rather turn my attention to the simple;
to the ones who leave those subtle ripples
on my heart, and on my mind.
Whose treasured presence are so personal,
it peaks on the edge of the divine.
So no
I'd really rather not dedicate my time
to your perfect metrical rhymes -
to your Magnifico Metaphors,
your Awesome Alliteration,
your Verdant Vocabulary
so lush that it's scary!
Your whoop-di-do-look-what-I-can-do
I'm so clever How 'bout you?
If your heart is full of Me, Myself and I
To your poetry
... I'd rather say goodbye!
A true story.
Here I was,
23 or 24...
Classed an "Executive"
NYC Dept Store Chain,
"Executive" label meant
I could work overtime
For one half of my normal salary...
But a fool sees stars
Where he should see crime
Promoted "Furniture Buyer"....
Big Ticket spot....
They seemed out to prove
Smart I was not.
Big Furniture Market,
High Point, N.C.,
Invited out to dinner,
By big shot vendor....
Oh...whoop, whoop, yea!
Of course, my stuffy boss
was there,
In the next chair
At this odd restaurant...
"The Factory" it's name,
After that night,
I was never looked at the same....
Big shot, Big City....
Big Fool....
It wasn't pretty....
The menu did start
Entrees priced more
Than my annual salary
And I'm confused
There's a boiler next to me!
So this Big City Buyer,
In his $99.00 suit
Ordered a shrimp cocktail,
Oh, what a hoot!
Lights flashing....
Like Studio 54
I had no idea
What I was in for!
Got my shrimp cocktail,
Oh, I do love my shrimp!
But the lemon wedge,
Was wrapped up
My mind now a' crimp
In this decorative yellow stuff,
All fit with a bow....
How do I open it, I wondered...
I wanted to know...
But I'm a Big Shot NYC Buyer,
Sure, I've seen it all....
How dare these dumb hicks...
Have such a gall!!
I took my fork,
I took my knike....
I started trying to open
This thing like....
It meant my very life!
I was struggling,
And sweating,
And frustrated and mad
Got some of the weirdest looks
I ever have had...
These Carolina Hicks...
Out to make a fool of me...
Slowly I realized
Everyone looking at me...
My boss's eyes swollen
In shame
How dumb his young buyer
Should be in a cornfield
And call himself "Town Crier"
Eventually I learned....
This stuff was called
"Cheese-cloth"
Ridiculous I thought...
No cheddar or swiss
Like this had I ever bought...
In silence I remained
Through the rest of my meal....
To me the biggest embarrassment
To me the biggest deal....
Big City Hot Shot Buyer...
Dumb as a farm hand.....
Put in a Manhattan restaurant...
Without but a strand....
Of what was, what wasn't
Of how, and of why...
All I wanted to do
Is to crawl under a rock
And die!
(This is true!!!)
Saturday, February the 14th of the year 2015
It's no Valentine's Day in the Great White North
It's the big Hockey Night in Canada
And to these fans, it's a night of epic rivalry
Saturday nights with the blue and white
Trying to play with all their might
Saturday nights with le bleu, blanc, et rouge
Trying to play all the way through
When the moment the puck drops,
A person's normal heartbeat stops
When the instant the puck hits the ice,
A rival's heartbeat is anything but nice
Toronto Maple Leafs - the long shot team
Will bring their honor to battle for this rivalry
Montréal Canadiens - the big shot team
Will bring their torch to burn on this rivalry
Two teams will battle for a victory right
Only one team will have victory upon being loyal
As for this Valentine's Day hockey night
There will be no love in Montreal
You’re at the intersection in your car,
that damn device held pressed against your ear.
You’re unaware, but we know who you are:
the one away from whom we all will steer!
My class has barely started. Suddenly,
inside the room is heard the strangest sound.
You leave - or worse - you talk right over me.
Is there no place a cell phone can’t be found?
I’m at the movies. Bleep, bleep, bleeping bleep.
Another one. . . and music starts to play!
And then you start conversing? Why, you creep,
you’re begging just to “make somebody’s day.”
Just turn it off! You think we love your voice?
NO, Big Shot, we're just victims with no choice.
An oldie from July 31, 2011
THE UN-BEETABLE BUG
Simplicity, elasticity, beauty in the thirties,
not like some sedans, ugly and beastly
This popular car and it's history from the past,
from it's World War two template, it sure did last
How many know why it's being came to be,
a car for the German people, to what you've seen
The Sixties starts the decade of the Summer of love,
unique form of the bug fits these times like a glove
Born in Germany in yellow, black, blue or white,
but see I desire the color red so alluringly bright
Won't you agree, it looks sexy, pretty and nice?
This models size and style sparkles to burst some spice
Its voluptuous rounds makes it friendly and sleek,
to busy roads and highways surely it can easily sneak
It may look slow but I tell you: you are wrong!
This small car runs like the shooting star song.
Alongside trucks or vans, it doesn't tremble a fear
as when I turn the key, horsepower shy with its gear.
Easy so easy, I can turn the wheels to any curves
soothing so soothing to my sometimes worried nerves
Many a design of automobiles will pass
but hey, my red Volkswagen still holds the class.
The "un-beetable" Beetle bug definitely hits a big shot
to a parking lot you can easily save her a spot
___________________________________________________________
12/30/2015 15.55pm
The lawyer's named Julius
a veritable ebriosus
(in Queen's English: perm'nently pissed)
he takes a last swig
gives a belch as of pig
from the bench: "Ouch! Again I have missed!"
"Your Worship! Your Honor!
virtuous your manner
that you're fair we humbly agree
but the bribe you are bleedin'
is well beyond reason
now, pray, set this criminal free?
"My learned colleague
the one with the wig
(I believe she's the state prosecutor)
for a meager amount
will withdraw all the counts,
wipe all evidence off her computer."
"Step forth, legal counsel
o'er the bench we will
negotiate new terms now you're plastered
approach the damned bench
please pardon my French
for Latin I haven't yet mastered
"To lighten my task
I'll partake from your flask
on financials 'tis wise to imbibe
two sips of your Cane
should rid me of pain
might I convince you to double the bribe?
"To remove any doubt,
morals I've nowt
to my pocket, not law, I'm compliant
Mr big-shot lawyer,
give me cause to respect yer
and try to squeeze more from your client!"
"After due consultation
and much apprehension",
said Julius, his look more disheveled
"This crime was hard toil
but we'll divvy the spoils
our offer's not doubled but trebled."
"On due legal analysis
this case is dismissed
and henceforth may no man refute it
I'll share in the bounty
thus though he be guilty
the wretched accused is acquitted."
28.04.2011
(This is a work of fiction in its entirety and merely a satirical look at our corrupt
justice system)
“Expresso Shot”
He drank tibetan milk tea
from his saucer
like a cloistered munk
his conversation
was hushed and tinctured
with fountains of try-too-hard satire
he spoke softly
and quite fast
like a panther doing laps
a surprise
well hidden
springing
from long Prairie Sky switchgrass
chasing after too curious merecats
and bouncy pert Botticelli bunnies
mid-life
hazardously glazed lush
in confused transition
he gushed around
his love for life
to the moon and back
and there sat I,
the great I am,
green eggs 'n ham
watching and listening
waiting for the loophole
to be held like a love leash
of course, out in the open,
I’d give him free reign
drop the ropes
and hand him
freedom and a little hope
I’m generous like that
sometimes…
and there sat I,
the great I am
in two minds
with my dark
expresso shot
two Beretta Picos
under the table
ready to raise
and shoot straight
through his floundering heart
the one big shot
he bit into the half glazed
oozing his sweet jam
all over the place
I kept the kill clean
it was mourning time
the blowback delivered
painless and nice
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Honoured to be invited to speak at a one day workshop,
I survey the audience to decide when the lecture should stop.
We all agree that 10am is a good time to take a break,
I commit to sticking to the schedule for everyone’s sake.
As a professional lecturer, I’d flown a distance to speak,
They audio and videotaped me after I gave the final critique.
We broke for morning coffee, I slipped off quickly to the bathroom,
After completing my task, I pulled up my pants and felt doom,
Seems in my rush to relieve myself, I just completely forgot,
I still had my microphones on, I guess not such a big shot!
Written September 17, 2011
For Nancy Jone’s contest
“Make Me Laugh”
I am dreaming
I am fantasizing
On how I want to put them in your face
Oh! Nate, my fate,
they are a set
I use for bait.
Just sit down,
have some coffee.
No need to talk,
tell me if you like what you see
Give me the wrong look,
and I will slap you with thee.
Okay King Mandalay,
It's with me you want to play.
Come on don't be shy follow me inside.
Not a single word I want you to say
Now close your eyes while I go hide.
You are now in a game of hypnotized
Babe, do not expect a quick ride
I will take you on my wild surprise
If you tag me, you can have me.
We can play another game of slip and slide
King of mine I only want to play my way.
Lets forget about everything,
Lets enjoy a slam bam you started today.
I enjoyed the tapping of your ding.
With your words that took my breath away.
How about you toss an awesome E-mail
Explain what about me you want to nail
Okay My Sweet now its time to sleep
By morning time, you will rise and shine.
Awaken with my set upon your face.
Oh ! Yes I am going to make you mine.
Before I have to leave your place.
One more time I give you permission to climb.
And finish invading my private space
Now I am done fooling .
Why are you still drooling
Time for you to get some cooling.
Why are you stalling.
I already gave you more than a smoke.
Tell you what
Continue to keep your mouth shut.
Something with you must be up.
Go ahead lets start over,
No need for you to be a big shot.
I will be nice to the roll of the dice.
To see who ends up on top. ((cq+cq))
By: P.D.
**Here you go my sweet Nathan D., **
. ((cq+cq))
My phone is being tapped; I’m sure of it
I called a government guy a nitwit
Why did I post that blog?
Am I in such a fog?
Perhaps I should have called him a half-wit
The letter to the editor was hot
Just look at how many comments it got
Not one soul disagreed
It started a stampede
All wanting to lash out at the big shot
Men in black are outside wearing a grin
Now I fear everyone who isn’t kin
Strange cameras appeared
At home – they look so weird
I believe paranoia has set in
*Entry for Susan’s: Big Brother-Who’s Watching You and Why” contest.
He looked at that boy with pain in his eyes
and said I'm sick and tired of seeing all of
these lies
So you went away from home for a little while
and came back here bumping a brand new style
Looking at you now the answer's real clear
You must've ended up somewhere north of here
So I guess it's up to me to get you back to your roots
gonna put your ass back in some cowboy boots
Because you're country that's the way you were born
You're country heading back through the corn
It's a simple way of life around here
where you work, sweat, and bleed and never shed a tear.
If we don't do it, it won't be done
not everything in life is about having fun
I see you over there walking down the street
spent a pretty penny showing off your feet
By the way you're running you should've bought some cleats
Trying to run out of here like your at a track meet
You're a real big shot that what you think
putting all your money in a federal bank
But that ain’t the way we do it around here
we burry our money in an empty jar of clear
Because we're country that's the way we were born
we're country heading back through the corn
It's a simple way of life around here
where we work sweat and bleed and never shed a tear
we wake up early an go to bed late
no we ain't got time to procastinate
You come up to me and ask my advice
I look down at you and I don't think twice
Boy you need to slow down and catch your breath
you got us all worried and scared to death
we all remember that fire in your eye
and I don't believe that you've let it die
Because you're country that'd the way you were born
you're country heading back to the corn
You’re so bourgeois,
it ain’t materialistically funny
You’re so smug, lady LaDeda —
you’re a maven for making money
Always turning your nose up,
and looking down
at poor, working class people
Thinking you’re better than most everyone else
because of what you got
You’re so bourgeois,
I hope that Dom Perigon don’t give you gut rot
You’re so smarmy, lady cougar —
you believe your own press, that you’re some big shot
But you’re not
You’re just that same bratty little kid,
whose nose was always dripping with snot
Somewhere along the way in life,
you came across a piece of money ...
now you think you’re so bourgeois
Class is more than a custom car,
honor is more than a huge house
True success is not measured
by how much is in a bank account
But you still don’t understand,
do you, lady Bourgeois —
money can only take you so far,
before it drops you
into a river of cash flow funk
Riches got wings
that can fly away,
sending you back into poverty
Such an empty feeling,
ain’t it Bourgie lady ...
No green got you turning so gray
It was about 10 am when Brick finally made it to his office
he was just about to sit down when his phone rang
"23rd Homicide " Brick this is Bill its about time you showed
I've been at work over an hour while you was sleeping
Must be nice to be a big shot and get to sleep in
Bill said I " you know what they say You hang with horses
you get saddle soars... Funny Brick very funny. ha ha ha
Hey what say you and I grab some lunch today and go over
this Samurai thing my treat, Hey now you Texans are pretty
well known for being tight with a buck but your on.
How about Louie's over on Tempest and 3rd I hear they make
a mean BBQ meal over there and I'll bring what I got and we'll
pa-ruse through it. Pa-ruse where did you come up with a word like that
pa-ruse...man your killing me. Well a man has to broadin his vocabulary
ya know, Brick stick with your Brooklyn accent will ya I'll see you at noon
OK Bill see you then,Oh by the way I don't think they have horse stalls
at Louie's so you may want to drive a squad It'll be easier for you
ha ha ha very funny, see you at noon. With that I gathered up as
much of the file as I had to take with me and headed out, I figured I
would stop at a couple places before lunch and check some things out.
I was just pullin out of the garage when the call came in, 1-william 13
1 William 13 go ahead, Brick we have another stiff under the Bywater bridge
sounds like our cutter is at it again, 1 William 13 Roger headin over now
Lieutenant " as soon as I got the call I called the station on the Radio and had
them patch me into the 31st and told Bill to meet me on scene now he gets first hand
to be cont.
hardball demagogue
ruthless big shot Willie Stark-
women, gambling, guns
Copyright © 2018 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Published 2018 in "Hollywood Haiku" via wattpad.com