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He Bought The Farm by Ellison, Jack

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A FIERY CREATURE

 If there are humans on earth some years 
in the future
They'll notice the sun has turned into a fiery 
red creature
The sun is on a mission to eat the earth
In days to come sun will swallow earth, not 
even burp
If this is thought to be a  SciFi invention
It's 100% true this is the sun's intention
The solar system's end comes with sun's 
cannibalistic feat
When he's eaten the other planets as an 
after dinner treat
The reason for such actions is sun's 
burning days are thru
And if he's burning out the rest of his 
system is going too

THE UNIVERSE IS STRANGER THAN IMAGINED
THE UNIVERSE IS STRANGER THAN CAN BE IMAGINED

What's not even mentioned is sun's other tricks to harm
A coronal mass ejection and earth's bought the farm
The last CME (2012)  missed earth by a cosmic inch
The next will hit earth and that's a cinch




Copyright © Elizabeth Smith | Year Posted 2015


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does this gun in my mouth make me look suicidal?

guilty war pigs with nowhere to hide
the shame of a nation that doesn't try
the obsession of bad to the bone
does this gun in my mouth make me look suicidal

no
not at all

die for the cause of someone elses desire to kill
blackmail and pigeonhole the stool pigeon
to finaly have a taste of rocky road
the quaking leaf you are shaking on that limb
ready to let go of the autumn wind

someone bought the farm
new names for anthrax the whitemen brought to heighten their power
does this gun in my mouth make me look suicidal?

no 
not at all

makes you look like a war pig about to do the right thing

the smiles on every childs face will haunt you for an eternity
the celebrations you persist to endure to breathe as a scapegoat for your own mercy
won't come
the lie you live can't be escaped nor washed away
alas the clouds tell the breeze of the birds wings and the flowers of bees
the smell of death and decay in the spring won't let you sleep

does this gun in my mouth make me look suicidal?

no
not at all

the string on your finger
to remind you of the note in your pocket
the one of the sign as to when and how to blow your brains out
an instructional video you don't need difficulties with
for the spider web weaving trouble
merciless doubtfull remorse of an eteernity entrapping you
the oak and ivy replacing the sadalwood and stone
soapy hands washing clean in the mud
forever and ever
to never be forgiven
unbearable good news from the sheep from the bull on parade
the massacre you want can start with you today

does this gun in your mouth make you look suicidal?

no
not at all

looks like the death of a war pig
and i get off on stuff like that

no salvation
no mercy
no love
no forgiveness

die 
in the
streets of
society
eventually
nothing will be
tolerated

does the bounty on your heads come cheap?
not really
we all add to the pot
and this obvious heart will feast
on the dirt upon the floor you belong
from this gaping hole like a wrecking ball
that crucifies us all nailed to a grudge
you call a rollercoaster

this curse of simplified things can not be undone
forever spider weaves webs
soapstone and clover
the complete take over
nothing to believe
but the death of the devil i place upon your shoulder

the gun in your mouth looks suicidal
as you creep and creak up the stairs down the hall
knock knock ding dong ding dong
father time and lady luck
offered this fate my destiny

666


Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson | Year Posted 2010


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Old Blue

Soon after Dad bought the little farm He bought a Jersey milk cow Said Old Blue's a real milk producer I’ll hand milk since I know how Then we had fresh raw milk all the time Made butter by using a churn Sold all the raw milk we didn’t use So some extra bucks were earned There was no waste from butter or cream The pigs would just get a treat Of course dad milked early each morn Tote hot water, wash the teats No getting away with a milk cow Twice a day Dad milked Old Blue Hated to milk cold winter mornings Just something he had to do The farm let Dad get back to his roots Said it was good for the boys That why he bought the farm and live stock To live a life he enjoyed


Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2011


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But For

Though east is east and west is west, 
each corner lawyers will infest,
and one thing they’ll deploy with zest:
notorious, the “but for” test.

You want to be the one who smirks,
once having stomped on stupid jerks?
Quell quarrels with that quaintest of quirks,
the “but for”.  Here is how it works.

You suffer damage?  Then blame me,
denounce my gross iniquity:
whate’er the rights and wrongs may be,
who utters “but for” walks, scot-free.

But for my fault, there’d be no harm?
(Let’s say your granny bought the farm):
Then I’ll cough up, without a qualm.
But what if it’s a false alarm?

It would have happened anyway.
She couldn’t last another day.
They couldn’t keep her AIDS at bay.
Then bingo – I don’t have to pay!

But for my wrong, remiss omission,
your barn would not need demolition:
you’re asking for complete rescission:
I raise “but for”, and go off fishin’!

But for your reckless, rank neglect,
my roof might have remained un-wrecked:
you should have been more circumspect.
What’s that?  “But for”?  I can’t collect!

You think it’s persiflage I’m penning?
Bombastic as in Bragg, or Benning?
No.  Casuistry beyond our kenning,
begotten by the Baron Denning!

A man shows up at A and E
Just after dawn (six forty-three):
says all that he’s consumed is tea:
his stomach is in agony!

The nurse says, “Just go home to bed.
The doc won’t come.  You’ve overfed.
Take aspirin, that’s what he said.”
At half-past ten, the patient’s dead.

The fault is undeniable.
The doc’s defence is friable…
What can he say that’s viable?
The hospital is liable…

Wait!  Not so fast.  When you’re hard-pressed,
when co-defendants have confessed, 
grenade that damn machine-gun nest!
You’ve got “but for”.  Apply the test!

Do we know how the poor guy died?
We checked the tea urn, looked inside.
Some unknown weirdo had applied
a half a pint of cyanide!

He lost his life, and that’s a pity,
but let’s get to the nitty gritty:
the hospital’s now sitting pretty,
for half a pint would kill a city!

You get my point?  It’s only fair.
If I were Quincy or Kildare
I couldn’t save, revive or spare
the man – he never had a prayer!

The guy was dying anyway.
There’s nothing anyone can say.
His family will have to pay
my costs, of course – have a nice day.

For all who have recourse to law,
like Jonah in that orca’s jaws,
remember there’s a rabbit’s paw,
that nuclear weapon, named “but for”!



Copyright © Michael Coy | Year Posted 2017


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High School Reunion

The invitations were sent to alumni far and near,
To gather for the school reunion later in the year.
The ultimate occasion to turn on all the old charm,
And fondly remember those who have bought the farm!

Ladies wear tight-fitting girdles to shrink the pounds.
Guys try crash diets to reduce flabbiness that abounds.
It's been over half a century since our graduation day.
It'll be intriguing to see how others fared along the way!

Old pals circulate boasting and bending my weary ear,
Regaling with boring trivia that I really don't want to hear.
I tell others how great they look, looking them straight in the eye,
As I cross my fingers behind my back for telling such a lie!

It appears that the campus queen totes a bit of additional weight.
That once haughty snob now tips the scales nigh one ninety-eight!
There's the big man on campus, voted the most apt to score success,
Guzzling booze as is his bent, displaying a bit of queasiness!

The years have elapsed, rolling on at a frightful pace,
But as long as docs keep us patched up we'll stay in the race!
To perhaps convene once again down life's treacherous road.
If not here, than a rousing reunion in that heavenly abode!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)


Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2010


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Welcome to the jungle

Welcome to the jungle, where you might not wake up the next day,
Where your best friend just bought the farm, courtesy of a friendly mortar gone astray,
And where Charlie's ghosts, come out to play.

Welcome to the jungle, your innocence won't stay,
In a bath of blood, it'll be washed away,
While for the sins of some foreigner you pay.

Welcome to the jungle, where disease will eat you away,
And the bush grows thick, despite the chemicals they spray.

Farewell to the jungle,  you barely lasted a day,
Just another body that they tossed into the fray,
And now your body rots in this country,
Far, far away.


Copyright © Kellen Crooks-Simpkin | Year Posted 2015


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Wile E Coyote

My name is Wile E. Coyote and I fall off cliffs.
Some consider it misfortune, the Road Runner considers it a gift.
Those damn Acme products never work.
When they backfire, I look like a jerk.
I'm getting sick and tired of always suffering bodily harm.
If I wasn't a cartoon character, I would've bought the farm.
People find my antics amusing but I don't think it's funny.
Why could I only talk when I starred with Bugs Bunny?
If I live to be thirty, I'll never chase the Road Runner again.
My broken bones have convinced me to be a vegetarian.


Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2011


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THE SQUIRE

I knew a man who always traveled,
 he worked hard and was ever on the go.
He said that he would like to own property,
 a Squire or Country Gentleman, as you may know.

I could not believe it,
 as one day he came with cash in hand.
He said he wanted to get away to quiet,
 but all he wanted was the land.

I thought it strange that he do this,
 as he never liked staying in one place.
He said he still wanted to travel,
 but would use this for his base.

I wondered why the big One-Eighty,
 for he turned completely around.
He said it was just a change of direction,
 one he had never before found.

I hoped that it would settle him,
 because he was strange enough.
He said that if I did not want his money,
 that he just leave and take all of his stuff.

I wanted him to know my feelings,
 about how his life would change.
He said that I was not to worry,
 he was not going to join a Monastic Grange.

I sold him the property he wanted,
 and put the money in several banks.
He did not have very much to say,
 but just gave me a word or two of thanks.

I wandered by there the other day,
 not trying to raise any alarm.
The place was run down, unkempt, and shoddy,
 apparently...he "bought the farm".


Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2015


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Two sides to every story

Little Jimmy riding bike, somehow
Was run over by passing snow plow
He lost his left arm
Left leg bought the farm
And after a day, he’s all RIGHT now


Copyright © Joseph Soper | Year Posted 2017


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Bad for Business



Today wasn’t a good morning at all for Hassan,
a victual merchant in Baghdad
Thirty four customers got killed by a suicide bomb
A jihadist Arab wearing an explosive vest,
proclaiming to be fighting against the west,
ended up only murdering his own people
The sun rising on the eastern horizon
cast a bloody pale
Screams and sobs, weeps and wails
Ambulance sirens blaring ... death is a hard item to sell
Innocent people shopping for meat, dairy, nuts and fruit,
in a tragic transaction bought the farm
The sign outside the market said half-off,
it didn’t mean exiting with half a leg or one arm
Somehow, Hassan in dust-covered anger survived
He was one of the fortunate few to make it out alive
with every body part intact, except his calm Iraqi mind;
it keeps expanding and contracting
in violent, kinetic convulsions a million times
from such a vile, humanitarian crime
Anxiety fruit flies hover over unsold crates of apricots,
seething vengeance 
ferments the not bought bottles of apple vinegar
Mass killing is always bad for business — 
a lot of potential repeat customers will only 
come to the open air stalls one time
Nobody wants to buy ripe pomegranates, fresh goat milk
and vintage premature dying
Terrorism is bad for consumerism,
fanatical death wish ain’t good for the merchant gift registry
Not when buying a bouquet of flowers becomes a morgue delivery
Suicidal shrapnel kisses don’t welcome tourism,
foreigners eschew dying on vacation ... death ain’t an easy item to sell
Prayer vigil purchases of screams and sobs, weeps and wails
Hassan says business has been bad
ever since that fatal, holiday dawn mourn
Only rueful disaffection comes 
with the bagging of the cabbage and corn  



Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017


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Funkbucket

I was gonna kick the bucket
When I turned on the TV
They were all in it for money
And there was none left for me

So I called up my accountant
Had me start a new web site
I sold them stuff they wanted
And it kept me up all night

Then I went all Egypt on them
And I just collected Dough
I became a master baker
And I watched the kitchen grow

When I thought I’d bought the farm
And I’d be forclosed on by summer
Who knew back in the spring
That by fall I’d have a hummer

Don’t rush to cash in your chips 
The casino’s up all night
Have some faith in god and self
The sunrise is soo bright

You can’t get used to dying
And your times a one shot game
Don’t predict your wins and losses
It’ll never be the same

To size up for the box 
Before the shoes are tried on
Doesn’t say much for the sox’s
Or the Genes when you are gone

So next time you think its over
Go to bed for another day
Hold your dreams close to your chest
And play your hand just one more way

And maybe your dream lover
Or the fans can see you dunk
When you play the game tomorrow 
And come out of your funk


Copyright © Bill Smith | Year Posted 2015


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He Bought The Farm



Today started out bright and shiny Then suddenly turned cloudy and sad Doesn't take much to turn it around To change a good day to bad Something that seems so insignificant Can change the mood of the day Like rain that falls that wasn't predicted Or snow in the middle of May They call us guys moody people They wonder why we're up and down It's quite uncontrollable most of the time We'd much rather smile than frown So if you see me with a frown on my face Remember it's nothing you said It's just this up and down mood I get in Much rather be upbeat instead Lately I've been much more up than down Happy it's not the other way round Don't want to put an end to it any time soon Decided I'd still like to hang around Have no fear, love life way too much To do myself some bodily harm Would be totally contrary to who this guy is You'll never say, “he bought the farm!” © Jack Ellison 2014


Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014


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Nevertheless It All Ended In 19 And 64


NEVERTHELESS IT ALL ENDED IN 19 And 64
By Roy Merritt

(When reading it use a Cockney accent and the h is silent)

Oh alas poor Jimmy Bond 'e didn't go past sixty four
Cause you know 'is creator that's the year 'e went out the door
Yes indeed Ian Fleming that was the year that 'e croaked
That was the year the Good Lord 'is license to kill revoked

'e was only fifty six when 'e bought the farm
Through a 'aze of cigarette smoke and Jimmy Bond's great charm
'e really liked to drink and smoked seventy fags a day
So is it any wonder the Grim Reaper up 'auled 'im away

'e was in the Royal Navy and worked there as a spy
During World War Two and the Nazi's 'e defied
While in the Navy 'e worked on Golden Eye
An operation 'e would later on in one 'is books apply

'e wrote "Casino Royale" and that pulp 'ad three great runs
And later on "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" for the little ones
And I don't know who was the best in movies based on what 'e did write
Whether it was Sean Connery, Mister Craig or that limber Dick Van Dyke

Or maybe it was Julie Andrews or maybe Ms. P. Galore
Nevertheless it all ended in nineteen and sixty four
Yes indeed it all ended in nineteen and sixty four
Nevertheless it all ended in nineteen and sixty four


Copyright © Roy Merritt | Year Posted 2016


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Near Death Experience

There are those who scoff at near death experiences but I happen to disagree.
I was born on my parent's farm in Indiana and around about the age of three,
I contracted a very serious case of scarlet fever and nearly "bought the farm!"
But due to the fervent prayers of my folks to the One Who can ease all alarm,
(And, of course the doctor's care - they made house calls in the "olden" days!),
I survived that scary situation and I shall ever give to Him the praise!
Perhaps He saw some redeeming value in me and wanted to keep me aroun',
So I've tried to walk the straight and narrow - I hope I haven't let Him down!
It was during that malady that I had the mysterious encounter with death, 
And was later told that I had nearly breathed my final breath.
I saw that long gray tunnel spiraling heavenward and at the top a light,
The most unearthly and brilliant light I'll every see, so very, very bright!
I would defy those who make light (so to speak) of this mystical event.
After all, what three-year old child would have pre-knowledge of what it meant?



Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2010


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'America The Beautiful" Part 1

Free Verse Rhyme

America is not it’s history, but it’s people..
Who have one intrinsic nature...”Love”...(Eagle)
We are appointed of God...we must..
Elevate our consciousness, and our actions..
Above our history..into the essence..
Of the greatness...of our true selves

America is chosen of God..not some clod..................................(Eagle)..( Rev.12:14 
To lead the world..not to be in current peril..
But the chosen of God..has chosen it’s own god..
In it’s belly of greed..has planted it’s own seed..
Nay!..not up to God speed

From it’s mind of greed..came forth this seed.........................................(Rev.12:15
From a parasitic seed...America doth feed..
From a mind of greed..will not succeed..
`T is  not God’s seed..from which it feeds..

My appeal unto the meek..for..from the hearts..they seek..................................(Matt. 5:5)
Deliverance of the meek..from the mind’s  freak..
As into our intrinsic nature...we seek..
God’s love..is no freak..unto Whom...we seek

Else history..will keep..it’s repeat..
Un till no more..the end..parasite seed explore..
Devouring itself..un till..no more...greatness left..
For time has expired..as it’s greatness...has devoured..

As history keeps..it’s repeat of self..
Un till no more..greatness...of morality left..
With all..morality gone..
We’ve bought the farm...the farmer’s alarm.

Our economy...is the key..so that all may be able to see..
For it is..by it’s lesser degree..the economy...................................(Rev. 17:1-6 & 18:1-24)
Thou shall perhaps..look up toward Me...God!
All things..begin with Me..even...morality..

The remedy..to destruction will be...presented..to all the Sacred Hearts repented..
Choices will be made..as the economy is laid...in the mind’s grey shade..
As importance of former things fade..
As by intrinsic nature..new things are made
.......Continued......


Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2009


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The Setting Of The Sun: Part Two

Tommy Atkins was a good boy
grew to be a good man, good soldier,
packed up his troubles in an old kit bag and smiled
as his entrails blew out with aplomb;
he died as the black rain struck his slowly glazing eyes
good son, good husband, good father
left only good for fertilizing the Somme.
Damned carnage-strewn carnival
of barbed wire bisected mustard gas days;
how “great” was the great war,
how “great” was the harm
when old strategists cast generations of youth
into the stalemate jaws of trench warfare death
and all those young hopefuls who bought the dream
unwittingly bought the farm.
Two decades down the smouldering road,
up rolls Euro Death Circus
rolling out Four Horsemen and a Fascist regime insane;
now technology enhanced the butchery
with planes and tanks, boats and submarines
and all the young hopefuls bought the farm again.
Proudly she revels in her past glory,
wallowing and exalting, sucking rotten cold comfort
from the memorial corpse of a golden fleece;
learning nothing;
we’ll meet again, no doubt,
over the white cliffs of Dover
beneath Spitfire engine trails, perhaps;
for she may have won the war,
yet she has surely lost the peace.
A land once fit for heroes, warrior kings and demigods,
now freezes crippled and immobile
when the race into the future has begun;
in a pox of politically correct Fascism on one hand
and the real thing on the other,
where is the hand of reason to stop the fall of night,
stop the setting of the sun...?


Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2006


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Just Another Burned Out Fire

Just Another Burned Out Fire
Written by: William K. Kent

Somewhere a soldier cries tonight
But cries not for himself at all
It’s for his buddy who bought the farm
As he saw him slump and fall
The nights are long, time drags by
For a soldier so far away
Will he live, will he die
And will he remember another day?
He thinks of home and the girl left behind
And wonders if she’s really true
But duty calls and off he goes
For the good of the red, white and blue
No one back home understands
They try but they know not what to do
The soldier’s life is a life of goodbyes
To a friend who was faithful and true
Another leaves the band of brothers
And walks out across the wire
Never to return the way he left
Just another burned out fire


Copyright © will karry | Year Posted 2014


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THE NARROW SQUEAK SHOW CHAPTER 5

Now,where was I? 
Oh yes! 
Safely strapped inside......... 
Lets see this baby fly 

This gravity is a tricky thing........... 
Very heavy stuff 
I feel so alive! 
C'mon!, let me drive! 

I counted down too............ 
and with an explosive sound 
We were off the ground 
How fast can it do? 

I was pinned back..... 
Deep into my seat 
I thought it was the weight , 
of my treasure sack 
I was in for a treat! 

The chap up front........ 
Said c'mon up! 
Don't be shy! 
See how it can fly! 

I pressed something green...... 
then something red............... 
Everything went haywire 
I really was in the mire 
If you know what I mean 

That something red............ 
Ticked off that chap instead 
What a quality of service! 
I must have made him nervous! 

Now, I was thinking 
All this floating......... 
That chap up front.......... 
Gloating! 
What's it all about 
Some chav upfront? 
The man's a lout! 


Well, it's time to get off 
So I put on this padded suit......... 
Ready to scoot......... 
When that chap upfront 
Gave me the boot! 

Luckily I have my bullet charm 
So, I will come to know harm 
Down I went! 
I didn't want to be here....... 
Nearly bought the farm, 
burning a hole , 
through the atmosphere! 

I know I will arrive 
Very much alive 
Avoiding the river Styx 
Why? 
I must write chapter six! 



Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2006


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Adventures With Paul

A slow train toward eclipse is adventure this time, 
Two friends sharing new quest till I run out of rhyme, 
In four days moon path's wisdom will darken the sun, 
But if noise from a drum can save time, I'm the one.

Luck the rhythm of friendship constrained by steel rails, 
Luck that loyalty saves us when politics fails, 
Also, wife that we shared, a sequential delight, 
Helped give both lives new meaning (I honor her light).

Now Paul's quite a smart guy, but in ways, he's a joke, 
Do Conservatives breathe who aren't crippled by stroke? 
But if I ever stumble I trust he'll be there, 
Love is LOVE, who can say why a loved one might care? 

But his faith in assault guns? Lord, what can I say? 
He'd destroy Constitution to save NRA, 
Still beneath his veneer of an agnostic's tan, 
Beats the heart of a servant (who does what he can!) 

Let me too praise my drum; goatskin stretched on wood hoop
That's a gift from good friend who almost flew the coop, 
Mark's ex-wife too, a flame (long before I met him)
Both still natural athletes that don't need a gym! 

Paul and Mark have grown daughters, long years since we met, 
Paul and I hired each other, without one regret, 
Older now, we've health issues but not bought the farm, 
Both have lists of life's pleasures, exceeding man's arm.

If eclipse now is past, perhaps Paul and I won? 
May humanity prosper, find Grace in the Son, 
And though we two may vanish, our torch pass to you, 
Trust this truth; there's no limit to what friends can do! 


Brian Johnston
August 18, 2017


Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2017


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Who Lives and Who Dies

Somewhere a soldier cries tonight 
But cries not for himself at all 
It’s for his buddy who bought the farm 
As he saw him slump and fall 
The nights are long, time drags by 
For a soldier so far away 
Will he live, will he die 
And will he see another day? 
He thinks of home and the girl left behind 
And wonders if she’s really true 
But duty calls and off he goes 
For the good of the red, white and blue 
No one back home understands 
They try but they know not what to do  
The soldier’s life is a life of goodbyes 
To a friend who was faithful and true 
Another leaves the band of brothers 
And walks out across the wire 
Never to return the way he left 
For someone quenched his fire


Copyright © will karry | Year Posted 2014


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See The Man

Make for the corner, Fresno-Whittier
(there’s neighborhoods a whole lot prettier):
it’s probably ten-ninety-six,
but don’t draw weapons – that’s a Nix.
The man before you’s not a “perp”,
so don’t come on like Wyatt Earp.

Latina (claims she’s J-Lo’s cousin)
talking nineteen to the dozen
says she almost bought the farm,
but totally (we think) unharmed.
Find the pale-blue shotgun shack:
he’s out front, and she’s out back.

Ten-zero, boys.  Proceed with caution.
Blame’s not something we apportion.
They love each other – had a fight,
same as any couple might.
Bear in mind one simple thing:
no-one wants a Rodney King.

So, L.A.’s Finest, when you swoop,
he’s sitting on the streetside stoop,
and spouting incoherent crap,
samurai sword across his lap.
Don’t pay no mind to what he’s blurting –
the guy’s okay.  He’s simply hurting.

Don’t see a spic from Zapopan,
look at him closely.  See the man.
Don’t think, “one of the wetback horde”:
think what it took to make that sword.
Someone tempered, shaped, embossed it.
And Juan’s a man.  He simply lost it.

He came up here in eighty-eight,
and settled in the Orange State.
Wielded wrenches, welded axes,
raised his kids and paid his taxes,
and now he’s slowly catching on:
there’s nothing else.  His youth is gone.

He mops the floors at Taco Bell,
and Carmencita gives him hell.
He’d wail a horn, like Bobby Prewitt,
but doesn’t have the art to do it.
So let’s forget the “better than”.
Go easy, fellas.  See the man.



Copyright © Michael Coy | Year Posted 2017


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Miraculous

(This is a true story)

My second cousin is a Vietnam veteran who came to no harm.
But had he been with his platoon one night, he would've bought the farm.
While he men in his platoon were sleeping, the enemy busted in and killed all of 
them.
My cousin was ordered to drive a tank that night so they weren't able to kill him.
Many people prayed for my cousin to be safe.
It's possible that he was saved by their faith.
God may have had a hand in him being ordered to drive that tank.
The Lord is miraculous and he deserves all of our thanks.


Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2007


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The Beast and The Barns, Part III

III.

Scott bought the farm and some dairy cows,
and set about building himself up.
He soon made a name for quality milk,
local wholesalers could not get enough!

One summer day he took to the plow,
preparing and old field to grow hay.
The plow hit something, twisting it hard,
just badly enough to ruin his day.

He grumbled loud, went back to look,
and saw there, to his great surprise,
a hole in the ground, empty and long.
A new cavern there before his eyes!

Now caves were quite common where he lived,
several were open to tourists for show.
The thought of building up just such a place
made the dollar signs in his head grow.

The next day he returned with lanterns and lines,
carefully descending into the dim.
When he touched bottom and lighted it up,
what he saw laying close by shocked him.

Two skeletons lay just five feet away,
it was a miracle he hadn’t crushed one.
Both looked human and one of the dead
lay with the moldering remains of a gun.

The other was huge, at least eight feet,
and the bones too thick, impossibly large.
The skull was giant, the teeth oversized,
Scott found the sight of it quite bizarre.

In the middle of the great ribs did lay
two balls, the kind from old muskets.
And near the spine was the rusty head
of an aged and battered hatchet.

Turning to the other, Scott Bairns saw
they were the bones of a normal man.
The ribs were broken, every one,
so were both of the man’s hands.

And on the stock of the old gun,
Scott found an old, tin name plate.
He bent down low to read it clearly,
‘Amos Bairns’ in the metal was scraped!

Scott flinched back, remembering tales
told in childhood long, long ago,
Campfire stories of bigfoots run wild,
to his mind they all started to flow.

And now when he stared at either of them,
both the large and the small skeletons,
he realized the truth behind all the myths,
he was staring down onto his kin!

Scott hurried out, and filled in the hole,
then gave the field over to brambles and berries.
He never plowed there, or spoke of it at all,
for some truths are better left buried...


Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017


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How Can A Man

Can you see that it's time
With no watch on your arm
Is there hope to survive
If you've done bought the farm
When all things feel right
Does the moment just flow

How can a man say
What he doesn't know

If your neck deep in the stream
Shouldn't you know how to swim
If there's truth in the ring
Should you step out and give in
Do all mountain tops
Come with a slope

How can a man reach the heights
If his life view is low

Are you late to the central
In Eastern time
If it's really that simple
Then why's it so hard to find
Have you often faltered
Where you've clearly been

How can a man love
If he's never let love in

If your deep in the dream
Can you be what you want to be
If your dream was a train
Would it run out of steam
Could you hold onto the promise
If the words aren't there to lend

How can a man start over
Once he's reached his end
MH


Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2017