Well, GI Jack is welcome back, he left his legs in 'Nam.
He wakes at night in sweat and fright, then drinks another dram.
He doesn't know quite where to go, so seeks his uncle, Sam.
One can't ignore - his ma was poor, and life was sometimes cruel,
yet Jack was brave and well behaved and surely no one's fool
so joined the ranks that man the tanks, as soon as he left school
He learned to kill our foes at will (ordained a sacred rite),
and packed his bag and wrapped his flag and went away to fight.
And yes, the tide was on our side (for, clearly, might makes right)
Through tangled days in jungles' maze, he sought the enemy
behind the trees where, ill at ease, he fought the Yellow sea -
upon the waves of sunken graves he sailed a killing Spree
The napalm dropped and cooked the crops, burnt huts along the way
and tanks, with ease, mowed down the trees and villages of clay.
Yes, turret guns were loads of fun with roaring roundelays
While on the hunt with other grunts, he burned some babes alive
and wondered why frail things must die, while evil's phantoms thrive -
When folly ends, he'll make amends if only he'll survive
With booby traps (sticks dipped in crap)... yes, Charlie fought unfair.
He hid in holes like snakes and voles and snuck up everywhere
and like a mite beneath the night, caught Jackie unaware
At battle's end, Jack sought his friends - their souls were washed away
and only he and destiny were left in disarray -
with bed and pan, just half a man, the man of yesterday
When Jackie woke, beyond the smoke, his frame no longer whole,
he found instead a medalled thread, some wraps to hide the hole,
and realized another prize: a chair on wheels to roll
Across his chest (you've surely guessed) his medals shone, arrayed.
His head felt light, as well it might, at Victory Day Parade
for when he rolled, while others strolled, his boots no longer weighed
Well, Jack stayed home (no roads to Rome) to start his life anew
receiving dole (that took its toll) which fell in Sam's purview,
but soon enough, when times got tough, his uncle, Sam, withdrew
To walk the streets with fine elites (or someone else who begs)
or find a job (or even rob) requires both your legs,
and those that don't and those that won't are those we call the dregs
For getting by he tried to ply and mine his medals' worth -
a tinny cup, a hungry pup near loamy pits of earth,
and best of all, per protocol, beneath a bridge, a berth
He clutched a sign 'A dime to dine?', if anybody cared,
but soon he found, as time unwound, that victors seldom shared.
And Jackie's pride was slowly fried by vacant eyes that stared
He took to drink to break the link with thoughts of what he'd done,
though threads of doubt began to flout the yarns Big Brother spun
of freedom's ring and other things like what it was we'd won
He told the breeze his vague unease; his words infused the air
and like the fogs above the bogs, soon floated through the square
where people sat at tea to chat, and thought 'How could he dare?'
But freedom's price is never nice: like storms before the flood
the Daily Rag was on a jag, was looking out for blood,
deemed Jackie's thoughts untamed and fraught, then dragged him through the mud
By snooping clues, they plucked his views like grapes upon the vine.
Big Brother came, blamed Jackie's name for thinking out of line,
shut Jack away from light of day while letting freedom shine
The Junto Brass, with eyes of glass, were robed in fine array
to hear the words (though slightly slurred) the witness gasped to say,
while Justice snored (the water board awash with Perrier)
Well, Jack was charged with laws enlarged in secret dossiers
within the guise of spreading lies and leading thoughts astray -
The Jury's out... the rabble shout 'well someone's gotta pay'
The Judge (who fears the mind’s frontiers), he turned his head to yawn
while making haste through courtroom waste, though slightly pale and wan -
The voodoo Lune withdrew as soon as Night condemned the Dawn
While in his cell, the verdict fell - the sighs of Silence, rife
While in his cell, the verdict fell - the Reaper played a fife
While in his cell, the verdict fell - the price was Jackie's life
While censor’s cooks are roasting books (and truth) on stakes ablaze,
well, Jackie's head (though chopped and shed) still thinks about the praise
for deeds once done in victories won when cruising in a craze,
and then again about the sin of thinking, nowadays,
where, absently, humanity is served in urns on trays -
and, reconciled, it simply smiles at fortune's funny ways
A mind was caught while thinking thoughts neath Sammy’s prying gaze
and forced to stop by concept cops, else join the castaways.
For now it's law to hold in awe the brave new world's malaise
and dance like mimes to rigid rhymes (which no one disobeys)
and celebrate with white-washed pate, adorned with dead bouquets -
with freedom’s death, time holds its breath, and waits for better days...
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013
Crew of scoundrels, scalawags
Skulls and crossbones, on her flags
Hull held low by money bags
The fruitful Pirate's Lady
Upon her splintered deck they rove
Safely anchored, hidden cove
Her belly stowed with treasure trove
The faithful Pirate's Lady
Treasure hidden, booby traps
Clever riddles, cryptic maps
Soon to return, to ivory caps
So fleet the Pirate's Lady
Sails at full, for seven days
On east horizon, looms her prey
They intercept with cannon fray
The frightful Pirate's Lady
Copyright © Joe Inca | Year Posted 2006
Are you the Victim of a Word Place Accident..?
Couplets buckling like a rickety bamboo scaffold
Slippery When Wet Guy's taking a fall
Don't he look baffled
Are you the victim of repetitive stress injury..?
Maybe you said DAH-dah a million times
When POESHA standards clearly stipulate dah-DAH
No matter how it rhymes
Have you been exposed to volatile verbal material..?
Improvised Poetic Devices in a booby-trapped room
You won’t even know what hit you
When nano-onomatopoeia goes kah-BOOM
Are you the victim of backstabbing defamation..?
Sharp barbs between scapulas, a dastardly slit
Then call our Dream Team and remember:
If the Word Don’t Fit, You Must Not Acquit!
Hello, I was once a promising, puffy-sleeved poet
But I lost my Muse at a deconstruction site
Now, I’m stuck mixin’ metaphors like cement
Nothin' some literary damages couldn't set right
You came to the right place, sir
Our legal experts can help with your claim
We'll just need a copy of all your poems--
Plus a list of who's to blame!
For Contest: Let's Have Some Fun
Sponsored by: Casarah Nance
Written: Mar 21, 2016
Copyright © Brian McClain | Year Posted 2016
Alligators, Aardvarks; Arctic fox and hare. Also Armadillos and Asses will be there!
Bobcats, Beavers, Boars; One Blue whale will do! Bovines and a Booby (maybe 2)!
Caribou & Camels; *Cavies & a *Coot; Cottontails, Chipmunks, Chinchillas looking cute.
Dingoes, Deer & *Dik-diks; Dolphins doing tricks!
Elephants, an *Emu; Egrets and a Ewe.
Flying squirrels & Frogs you will find; Ferrets & Flamingos, Felines, every kind.
Goats & Gophers, swift Gazelles & Gnus; Grizzlies & Gorillas; Gibbons to amuse.
Humpbacks;Hyenas,also Harbor seals; Hummingbirds need little; Hippos need huge meals!
*Ibex & an Ibis, and there’s some Iguanas
Jaguars & Jackals & wading birds, Jacanas.
Killer whale; a Kangaroo; Kingbirds and the Koala too.
Ligers, Lynxes, Leopards, Langers; Llamas, Lemmings, Loons & Lemurs.
Manatees & Manxes & some Muskrats; Mustangs, Moose, Macaws ; Mountain cats.
Nightingales & Newts; and a big Naked mole rat!
Otters & Opossums; the Ozark Big-eared bat; Ocelots and Orca too. imagine that!
Pumas, Panthers, Penguins, Polar Bears & *Pipits; Puffins, Peacocks, Pelicans & *Peewits.
*Qhetzals, such bright birds to see; also a Queen snake, Queen rat & Queen bee.
Rhinos, Rams & Reindeer need a look! Racoons too, & have you seen the Rook?
Sable, Sloth & Skunks & Snowy owl, Snipes & Swifts & *Squabs are other fowl.
Tigers, Toucans, *Tapirs; and just now born. . .
Utah prairie dogs, Uganda Kob and the only one around, the Unicorn!
Vultures, Vipers, Vixens, and more than that; a Vole & Vervet & the Vampire bat!
Walruses, a Weasel, & the silly *Wallaroo; Woodchucks, Wolverines, Warthog too.
*Xenopus & *Xerus; *Xenarthra & *Xantus.
*Yaffles & a Yellow belly lizard; a Yeti (found naked in a blizzard).
*Zanzibar and Zebra & the *Zebu; Finally a *Zigzag and a *Zoo-zoo!
Definitions of the uncommon animal names in this poem:
Cavies - Hoofed animals Coots -diving birds Dik-diks - type of Antelopes
Emu - like Ostrich Ibex - wild goat Langurs -Long tailed Monkeys
Pipits - small songbirds Peewits -shore birds Qhetzals -jungle bird
Squabs -Birds Tapirs -S. American Swine Wallaroo -large Water buffalo
Xenopus -Frog Xerus - Ground squirrel Xenarthra -Anteaters
Xantus - Bird Yaffles - Green woodpeckers Zanzibar -Gecko
Zebu - Ox Zigzag - Salamander Zoo-zoo -Wood pigeon
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010
It's raining cats and dogs on a dark and stormy night -
with such a stroke of genius, a poet starts to write.
Inane clichés he's banging out to beat the band,
a booby trap as big as life to bite the poet's hand.
It opens up a can of worms to catch the early birds
but with no bird in hand he'll have to eat his words.
The tropes are fresh as daisies, with infinite supplies
of broken-hearted lovers, and rainbow butterflies.
Garbage in and garbage out, it's fun and games for all,
to sell you down the river and drive you up the wall.
For if it's true a pen is more mighty than a sword,
then we're as good as dead, for to death we will be bored.
Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2016
They're getting old now.
They congregate only a few blocks south of where I live.
40 to 50 years ago they were in Vietnam.
Among the homeless they usually move slower,
The weariness of age and of other things,
of drug use and alcohol,
lost loves and families,
bent and broken paths.
You hear about the "thousand yard stare,"
where blank verse and silence show they're not actively seeing,
though now most of the immediate trauma is gone,
they are just lives forever changed,
eyes both hardened and softened,
former aspects compromised,
the hand of war still upon them.
My family had a big house in Youngstown, Ohio,
with a room rented to a nice young guy named Dale.
It was cool because he would throw the football
with me and my brothers, and talk to us.
He had short hair and a little bit of acne.
In 1967 he went to Vietnam, killed within a week.
They tell stories of night patrols, moving through water,
streams rivers rain, mud and sodden clothes,
100 degrees in the shade, bugs, infection, panic,
running through the jungle firing their M-16 behind them,
of the Vietnamese people suffering, the dead lying along the road.
Arriving in-country, the heat blasting you
when you get off the plane, you are told
look left, look right, and then that one of the two men
you just saw will not return.
Our country was then conflicted, and it was harder coming home,
even though the orange fires and the smoke were far away,
you lost a limb and they didn't appreciate it.
There were a lot of booby-traps set,
by the enemy, by the bureaucracy, by the times.
I wasn't old enough to go and I'm not sorry.
Copyright © Doug Vinson | Year Posted 2016
My darling I know have put on weight
But I didn’t expect you to set bear bait
Now I am caught on the traps you set
The pain is intense and I’m getting upset
These boobies can no longer be concealed -
I hope the clamp marks will soon be healed
I will be starting my job as a sexy poll dancer
We need the money - this new job is the answer
Please will you hurry outside and release me
Don't think of charging me a clamping fee!!
29th August 2016
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
melancholy days approach;
escape where? in naked woods?
where winds wail around
the hilly slopes?
where ash, maple, and oak abound?
I see a dazzling blaze,
a kindling world,
as fires leap everywhere
all over the hemispheres,
where fatal booby traps are sprung,
where bombs fall without respite.
now where can I escape?
suddenly night fell and all was quiet,
from somewhere a bird sang.
I remembered Robert Browning’s words.
"God is in Heaven, all’s right with the world."*
(from Pippa passes)
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016
( THIS POEM REALLY SUCKS )
Timmy ate a banana and gave jim a pet frog.
Booby looked down the street at the apple
Kim told Ronnie secrets of wise men asking questions.
When does time stand moving down.
Why does gorilla`s move standing still
Can strippers clean a pose man at night
Stop in the name of garbage.
For when its told never clap your knees.
Does old dogs tell of fables on friday
When does young lads commit food
Stuff loves never dying thrust
Keep the courage to be afraid
Copyright © Jasmine Cruz | Year Posted 2014
I love things in nature that flock and herd
yet as a birdwatcher my lens gets blurred.
Not in the forest's deep far reach
but with my spyglass at the beach
gazin' the tanned large breasted booby bird!
Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2015
for me i still have the war within
a fight that was not mine to hold
i should rejoice for our side won
but left some brother and sisters
in the cold flag draped boxes cold
put down my rifle, helmet, boots
married but the war was still going
the battle ground bloodied with scars
bullet riddled lies booby traps of deceit
she has to sleep with the enemy me
put to rest my bloody fatigues
take away the war in me
help me be the man i should
and over come the pride i could
remember those who paid the price
who won't come home
memorial day i lay it down
no more fight no more gun
just remembering the ones that
didn't make it home
Copyright © gregory ramos | Year Posted 2014
Memories of a Green Beret
“Where have all the soldiers gone, Long time passing,
Where have all the soldiers gone, Long long time ago,
Where have all the soldiers gone,
Gone to graveyards, every one.
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?"
(an old anti-war folk song from the 60's)
Ho Chi Mihn Trail....'68
Ten warriors camouflaged in wait
Prepared to deal a grisly fate
Hunkered down in jungled hell
Assured they've set the ambush well.
In silence they lay upon the route
When 'Charles' walks in…. he won't walk out.
A cacophony of fire and screams
Laid down with deadly skills, this team;
With claymore mines and booby traps
Left fifteen fragged and torn or zapped.
A trail once quiet, now instead,
Was piled with black pajama'ed dead
A kill zone full of empty life,
From M16 and combat knives.
Metallic smells of blood and gore….
Back to the bush, fear to the core;
On the run, escape, evade
This area where the trap was laid.
Bust thru brush at breakneck speed
Thru swamp and bramble, cutting reeds.
They're on your ass, their voices near
Being captured is your highest fear.
If you're caught you won't survive.
They'll disembowel you, flayed alive.
Your final screams, heard near and far,
The price you pay for what you are.
In time you finally get away,
But it was the VC's judgment day
Praise God we lived, is what you pray.
Old memories of a Green Beret
As on and on this game of chess,
Your mind starts crumbling with the stress.
More bloody trails and bloody hunts
And soon gone thirteen bloody months.
You pack for home and say a prayer
For those you know that's still back there.
The sights and smells flash on and on
Though fifty years have come and gone.
They steal your brain and steal your calm
Sometimes you think you're back in 'Nam.
And still today played o'er and o'er
Are vivid flashbacks of the war:
Young warrior's lives, gone much too soon
Dying moans and pumping wounds
Flashing guns in hot fire fights
In wet and frigid jungle nights.
Camps attacked in human waves
Death piled high in bulldozed graves
Fear like ice picks in your brain
Comes with horrid scenes and pain
Prisoners tossed from chopper flights
Blood smeared chaplains give last rites
Green bags filled with body parts
Images not for faint of heart
Fear that drives you up the wall
Soothed by weed and alcohol
Village kids all blown apart
Blood and guts served 'a la carte '
Air support with steel and flames
Dog tag heaps with buddies names
Rot gut beer, Saigon whores
Seeping rotten jungle sores
Now, most are gone, long died away.
While others here are silver gray
Their comrades gone, now mostly dead,
They fight the fight still, in their heads
Late of night, in sleep they shout.
"Medic here, he's bleeding out.
Call in support--lay down some fire,
God help us all, they're in the wire."
I pen these words and I decree
They were ten times best what I could be.
My praise and prayers I'll not detract
For the many who never made it back.
From long ago and far away........
These memories of an old Green Beret
Author's Note: to all my old comrades, MANY WHOM never made it back
...De Oppresso Leber....rest in peace old friends-- Sergeant First Class Frederick Moore
, 6th SF, 7th SF, and 46th SF Thailand......
Copyright © Frederick Moore | Year Posted 2014
As an era of rage and power surged forth;
there were Nam warriors crossing the line...
did they have fate, did they have a choice
but crown a homeland's need for supreme win?
Dressed in fatigues, soldiers baked in hot sun
booby traps and minefields nailed on minds,
as wet noon blazed around their acidic voices,
morphine and death kicking dim walls of night.
From 1965- to 75, this lost war ended...
the comedy of politics gone wrong,
although a homecoming of men’s brigade
lost a victory... screams of peace reigned.
Promote peace not war
Sponsor: Silent One
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
Red blood splashes on muddy terrain:
ambushes booby traps fatigue jackets
waiting for the enemy... 98 degrees in the sun,
encountering and returning fire; life barely there
and war’s longest refrain plays on.
There is no jury within hostile grounds,
despite patriotism caught between triggers
as shadows of night weep for freedom’s balm;
no courtroom, unlike before, to defend prisoners
of the Wall, or Mekong… their scraped turmoil
diluted over canned loaf and juice, unheard.
Young knees deep in enemy ‘s clay…
a voice ringing, “ Shoot!”, a motto of allegiance
for homeland, while the instinct to live
kicks, rams into higher gear… young soldiers
too focused to see the eye of fear.
Where is the jury within hostile ground?
Only heaven can discern a topsy-turvy
sense of man's unrighteousness...
As war’s longest refrain plays on, and on.
John Hamilton's Upside Down World Contest
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016
With one glance of her eyes you would turn to stone
her icy glare would chill to the bone
i talk about our Arabic teacher
a vile and very nasty creature
a shot in the head is not enough
for that creature is very tough
i would love to slit her throat with a knife
or maybe cut of her head with a scythe
a sprinkle of cyanide in her morning drink
or throw her in tar and watch her sink
booby trap her chair ,so it would explode
tie her to a car and drag her down the road
put her in a guillotine and chop of her head
stab her with a dagger and watch as she bled
put a bomb in her house and reduce it to ash
cut the brakes on her car so she would hit and crash
drive a stake through her heart and burn her with fire
get her assassinated by soldiers for hire
put a rope around her neck , and push her off a tower
throw acid at her in a hailing shower
maybe silver bullets from a silver gun
dip her in oil and into the sun
but nothing will work from what i have said
because you cant kill something that's already undead
BY: Mostafa Zaki
Copyright © mostafa zaki | Year Posted 2011
ALEKSANDR ORLOV, SERGEI AND OLEG
GO TO ALDI...PART TWO.
We have to go to Aldi -
to buy new school
But the prices are so
incredibles - we just
sign a form!
Little Oleg is back from
Africa - and starting
at a school,
But when I ask for
uniform, I do feel very
The assistant is very
good - but Sergei is
He wants a new
computermabob - and
he's getting very
I take a look at some
new posh trousers,
for Oleg to wear for
Holy little mongoose
meat - Oleg does look
Oleg is smiling for joy -
and running round Aldi,
But Sergei starts to
whinge again - he says;
'he needs a holiday!!!!'
We have been to sunny
Africa - and then to the
Hollywood Movies -
Then we go to Aldi -
where Sergei buys some
I have to stay very calm,
and be professional -
I cannot tolerate - Sergei
I need him to help me -
we go to the Aldi store,
But we always buy lots
of things - Sergei always
He always wants
computers - for his IT
But every time we shop
together - it causes
We have tried all the
stores - but Aldi we
Then Oleg disappears -
he's riding a pedal bike!
"Sergei? What are you
doing? You must now
Stop acting like a circus
clown - or, you'll go
back to the cave!!!!
Then we are at checkout -
and Oleg has his uniform,
He looks a 'meerkat' booby
dazzler' - he looks so very
I always have to pay -
but I don't really mind -
I know I am of good furry
nature - I'm also very
Now for the new first day,
and Oleg is so excited,
But recent days - I do tell
you - this day we all
Oleg looks so very human -
in his new school posh
Just pop on down to ALDI -
where all the people
It is so incredibles, the
shopping we have done,
And Sergei is also happy -
a holiday he has WON!
Thank, you, to ALDI -
and Sergei plays with
his furry pimple,
We will come back to
Aldi - shopping is so...
Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2015
Babies of Beslan............
The darkest day in history,
Brought tears to my eyes.
Many Russians murdered,
In a mass of horrid cries.
Hundreds of innocent people,
Seen fleeing through the streets.
Bodies thrown onto the verge,
In a sea of blood-stained sheets.
So many kept within a school,
Being held against their will.
Suicide bombers with booby traps,
That care not who they kill.
An act by Chechen rebels,
Seeking freedom for their kin.
With scenes of utter carnage,
From those terrorists within.
Seen running through the street.
The Chechen rebels in the school,
Shooting at their feet.
Bombs and bullets filled the air,
As the smoke engulfed the skies.
People running from the school,
With terror stricken eyes.
Such barbaric bloody actions,
Brought death and undue pain.
The heart of the Beslan community,
Won't see their like again.
May the Lord our God watch over you,
May he guide you by his light.
May he hold you in his arms again,
And keep you safe tonight...........
In memory of the children and teachers of the Beslan school massacre.
Copyright © Leighton Rees | Year Posted 2012
the stroke of a pendulum
inspired by a scene in a mental hospital in Kolkata, India
© rajat kanti chakrabarty
Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014
You are my rock MY hero
Without you I might DIE
I can't imagine life alone
Just the thought of it
makes me want to CRY
You make each day worth living
with your loving & supportive ways
YOUR the one who's always THERE at the end of the day
I apologize for being. wrapped up
in my own pain & misery
OUR relationship the MOST important thing to ME
I'm sorry lately I'm a little
Don't worry baby gonna fight my way BACK
EVERYDAY I can't believe that ur mine
You are so rare a GOOD man is hard to find
I know u ARE here now and support ur ALWAYS giving
I'm hoping soon to rejoin the world of the LIVING
Honey you are my rock sturdy tough & strong
we have our "Someday" to look forward to
that's what helps me to carry on
being on your presence helps me to feel serene & calm
thank you for being so supportive about my DEAR MOM
She REALLY liked you and would say " go forward Booby MOVE ON"
I just wanted to let you know how I feel my sweetheart
I so wanna walk with u in the light and get out of the dark
guess just need some time to grieve and to heal
to me YOUR. my Superman YOUR MY man of steel
you're so kind and considerate always thinking about how I feel I WILL be there for you that's part of LOVES deal
Thank u for understanding and being there
YOU are the most AMAZING man on the planet I swear
your LOVE for me always tried and true
THANK U my SAFTEY blanket I am so in love with YOU
I thank God for EVERYDAY for sending
YOU to ME
if I hadn't meant YOU Lord knows where I'd be
Thank you for bring out the very BEST in ME
I guess that's what the Love of a good MAN can do
I can't think of a BETTER one for me to share my crazy life with than YOU!
Copyright © Diana Viguri | Year Posted 2016
The Poetry I so intensely write
Is not only in black and white
There are some shades of gray,
Booby traps and a crooked way.
It's a door to my heart
A window to my mind
A passageway to my soul
A back alley to my dreams.
You are forewarned if I say,
Tread so lightly, if you may,
through this maze with care
fraught with the peril of a snare.
My lovelorn heart is clean
My soul scrubbed to a sheen,
It's my mind you must pay heed
In its sinister design lest it succeed.
Surely it will lead you astray
Down a damned and slippery way
To a point of no return, beware,
Woe betide anyone who dare!
Copyright © Abdul Malik | Year Posted 2013
There is an old ranch outside of El Paso in New Mexico
No windmills, not a drop of water, sits on the Mexican border
No horses or cattle, not a cowboy does it employ
Used to be a working cattle ranch, but that was long ago
Now a lot of outlaw, no law and order
Now it is just the Devil's toy
The old ranch house, the window are painted black
All run down the fences of barb wire
Bones of ghost cattle lay in the sand, from cattle mutilations
Used in ceremonies for the Devil's attack
The witches dance and chant around a bon fire
Human sacrifices are taken as donations
Cowboy hat, boots and spurs, are gone by the way
No round up or rawhide on this outfit
In the tall mesquite dunes, a "sweat lodge" is where they worship
always carry on by night, never during the day
Where "The Head Witch reigns, don't think that she will ever quit
Booby traps galore, so you had better not slip
A multi million dollar cocaine shipping factory
Hidden off in the brush.under lock and key
Shipped by railroad, by air and Interstate Ten
A Helluva a tale and quite a story
Where "muling drugs" got it's name, when brought in by donkey
Don't get caught out there, you might not get back
Now for the scary part, if the other was not bad enough
When you think our Southern border is safe, well think again?
They are protected by the police and the United States Border Patrol
Telling us they are fighting drugs and it is tough
And the war on drug, they are going to win
How can they when the Devil has their soul
Copyright © Danny Nunn | Year Posted 2010
I know this sounds like a soliloquy,
But why did bulldust men find me?
God made Ratlotto sardonically,
Life's booby prizes always find me,
Now 70 years old is the new young,
O God of funster fun,
Is it them or me?
Yes indeed, my soliloquy,
Is it them or doormat me?
Whinging is fun for us,
No one's listening to this fuss,
Dear God of Ratlotto's booby prizes,
Any more masculine surprises?
Copyright © Julie Grenness | Year Posted 2015
Please make me understand
Why we do the things we do
If you are cheerful, you feel good
If you are sad you hurt all over (Proverb 17: 22)
How can we help you?
If we didn’t know how you feel
You suppress; you kept it all bottle inside
Somewhere you hide, and you cried,
Why didn’t you come inside from that dark lonely place?
Asking others for help isn’t a disgrace.
Life is like a bend tree, it only stand tall when
The winds calms down, however, it toss and turn
When the Wind becomes strong
Why did you come in from that dark lonely place?
Like a proud, tall tree, he snaps
Asking for help wasn’t a booby trap
Bearing it alone was a choice to grow weak.
Once again he was a toddler and a bit meek
He said. “Mommy I am a big boy now”
“I can do it all by myself. So he murdered
Innocent little kids…
Copyright © Annie Lander | Year Posted 2012
Scoobie found a ruby in Devonshire
And he put his frying pan on the fire
Ruby began to cry
And she soon got bone dry
Scoobie yelled Ho Ho you are booby dryer
Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014
He was born Joseph
Became better known as Box
He was a cool and clever guy,
he was crafty and cunning as a fox
Fell in love with the bouncing basketball,
and with the sound of the sneakers on the court
He had the talent to be a college star,
but in the classroom, his jumpers always came up short
Not that he couldn't do the school work,
not that he couldn't pass the tests
If it didn't swish to his way of thinking,
well, my brother really could care less
Brother started going down the wrong track,
when he wouldn't heed what our parents said
And since he no longer feared getting the strap,
the cruel, mean streets became his teacher instead
Traded away a peaceful life for an empty handgun
Became a wild wild west rebel always on the run
But life in the streets didn't treat him good,
dangerous friends, trip wire neighborhoods
Female booby traps, ghetto land mines everywhere
One wrong misstep, let the funeral songs blare
At the bewitching hour with the law closing in,
my brother finally saw the Light, saw the true face of sin
He finally rose up from the mire, all the filth that covered his soul
Calling on the name of Jesus, giving to Him total control
Traded away a lengthy jail sentence for quiet freedom
Returned back home and was embraced by everyone
He became a minister, an ambassador for Jesus Christ,
preaching against violence and hate as a way of life
He became a loving father, he became a loving son,
he became a best friend brother, no longer a rebel on the run
Box became Joseph again
He came back from the dead
and started witnessing
My lost brother became the prodigal son
We love the man he now is,
God loves the man he has become
A tribute to my beloved brother Joseph
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016