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About the 1500's

Most people got married in June because
They took their yearly bath in May
Body odor was the reason
Of the flowers in a bouquet

A big tub of hot water was used
For a bath, so that's not complex 
The males's right was to go first
The women and children went next

Last of all was the babies turn
By then the water was real dark
"Don't throw the baby out with the wash"
Soon became a common remark

Dirt floors were all the poor could afford
The old saying "dirt poor" came from that
The wealthy's floors were slippery slate 
In wet winter you just might fall flat!

So they would spread straw on the floor
But they called it thresh way back then 
and a "Thresh Hold" was what they called
The piece of wood used to hold it in!

Stew in a big kettle over a fire
Provided their dinner for them to eat
Leftovers left to get cold at night
With vegetables but not much meat

They added to the pot every day
It could be several days I'm told
That was referred to in the old rhyme
"Peas porridge in the pot nine days old"

When they could "bring home the bacon"
They were always proud about that
They would cut a little off to share
Then sit around and "chew the fat"

Pewter plates would cause lead poison
If like, in tomatoes, the acid was high
So for the next four hundred years or so
They thought tomatoes would make you die!

Bread was split according to status. 
The burnt bottom to workers was thrust 
The family would get the middle part 
While the guests got the "upper crust" 

Sometimes they'd pass out a few days
Because with whiskey they'd use a lead cup
So they would be prepared for burial
But "hold a wake" to see if they woke up

England had to re-use their coffins
But there were scratch marks, on some inside
They thought about it and soon realized
They must have been burying people alive!

Then they were buried with a string on their wrist
A bell was attached outside as well
Someone sat on "the graveyard shift" so
a "dead ringer" could be "saved by the bell"

This is true history, you can look it up
For me history always gave me a fit
But now this history doesn't seem so boring 
Since I managed to make a poem out of it!


Copyright © PAT Adams | Year Posted 2017


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THE TURKISH TURKEY

For this Turk Turku is a 1-horse
city but he has got to have horse
sense. He will not be as happy as a peacock in Turkey.
Hindi, the Turk word for turkey, is how we'll call this turkey.
Hindi, when living in Turkey, was a horse
dealer. Today he's no longer into horse
trading. He quit selling that drug. One morning
when he got up all his belongings were gone
He was shocked & almost started mourning
over this theft like a baby. His gun

gone too. Instead of going bananas
he sat down & thought: "That a lot of my country fellas have a monkey
on their backs is my bad! I won't cry over my pilfered pelf! No more monkey
business! From now on I decide to be a good egg!
I'm starting a new life! Today I cease being a yegg"
The Turk turkey put all his eggs
in one basket & wended his way to Turku!

He got a job in a Turkish bath as a front desk clerk. One noon he met a not
pigheaded porky from Alaska who told him had quit smoking blunt cold turkey
of late & was quite itching to relapse. Hindi didn't want to be a cold turkey
nowadays so he gave him advice on withdrawal. He jotted down some
notes for the porcupine to read & apply & didn't ask, at all, a sum
of money in exchange for the nice advice. The porky thanked him a lot & got
inside the bath. Finn tongue was Greek to Hindi
Whenever he had a chance, took a gander at

the phrasebook to learn Finnish.
At 5 pm he was glad to finish
his shift get the puck
out of that place
go home have duck
soup & plaice.
He wanted to invite the hake for supper. The latter
refused, didn't want to feel like a fish out of water.
Hindi, quite offended, told him off but it was like water
off a duck's back. He didn't want dinner alone, so
he thought who else could come. Bingo! The sow!
And she did. He did indeed bring home the bacon.
The food was very simple to prepare. It was duck
soup. He was cocksure the sow would love duck
soup & plaice. For dessert, a piece of cake
they'd have. Cooking all this was a piece of cake
without doubt. When nosh was ready, the sow
brooded over & said: "Wait a sec. This is so
weird. You invited the hake, a fish, to eat plaice.
You're eating duck & you're a turkey. In place
of eating explain. Are you a cannibal?" "Clam
up & pig out!" he said, not happy as a clam.

"O In a pig's eye I will! You are such a cold fish!
Horsefeathers! Besides, I am no longer hungry!
I've never seen anything like this in Hungary!"

"I eat duck soup and, if I want to, I cook my goose!"

The sow, horrified, at once did for sure vamoose.


Copyright © Ivo Cosentino | Year Posted 2014


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Different Dream

After a hard day at work I come home
Hear my boy rapping the words to his headphones
Every bleep comes another bleep
As he keeps dancing to the beat
Come upstairs and barge through the door
Say to him, "Boy whatcha listenin' to that for?"
As I rip it out of his ears
Turn around and look in the mirror
Get ya head outta the gutter son
You talk to ya mother with that tongue?
Ought'a lean you down and wash your mouth soap
Teach you a lesson and just barely make you choke

Dad, you don't understand
This is me, this is who I am!

Boy, you freeze it right there
Just so I know we're good and square
I'm your father, sit down when I say so
This is home, this is where the green grass grows
Can't be the one to follow you where you go
Can't take you as is and just tie a little bow
Around it and be happy
You ain't what I expected you'd be
After all this hard work to bring home the bacon
Just to come home to see the fuss you making!?

Imma be big and travel the world,
Be famous and get hooked with any girl
I'm tired of this rice 'n' beans, I wanna taste some of that green!

Stop it child, you making a scene, a mockery of ya ma and me
Do yourself a favor and dream a different dream

 The strings are for those with charm
And fame are for those holding cards
Your inner core will just burst at the seams
They say play it safe
And dream a different dream
Billionaires are cowards in disguise
Their careers built upon money and lies
Your inner core will just burst at the seams
They say play it safe
And dream a different dream

I remember when you was little
Your mind was like some twisted riddle
Rapping the lyrics
To your idols, Snoop Dog and Jay-Z
Acting like you knew what they meant
But boy, you could barely read
Spittin' rhymes don't put a roof over ya head
Or clean the dirty sheets in your bed
All those fancy clothes don't give ya fame
just brings your family to shame
Look at you playing life like it's a game
Joining all those gangs just to bleed
Gettin' high and smokin' weed

Dad, it ain't like that
I'm not some filthy rat
Planting my seed wherever
Imma stay true forever
Build myself upon lyrical tether
Striving to be as authentic as leather
Come on dad, can't we get it together?

Your grandpa was born and raised in the meadows
No Internet, no microwave, just planting corn rows
But right now the grass is as green as it's gonna get
And if you ain't got that through ya head yet
As your pops I'm really quite upset

 Take these words right from my mouth
And give 'em wings to fly south
Or I will run from this house like the ratatouille mouse
Tired of this cheese I want something more
The birds and the bees aren't what I'm looking for
I don't wanna die like everybody else
Just put in a hole and call it a grave
I don't wanna die with nothing to my name
If I'm not looking up I'm going south
You can scream and cuss at me with ya sailor's mouth
I'm still leaving and I'm taking the dangerous route

The strings are for those with charm
And fame are for those holding cards
Your inner core will just burst at the seams
They say play it safe
And dream a different dream
Billionaires are cowards in disguise
Their careers built upon money and lies
Your inner core will just burst at the seams
They say play it safe
And dream a different dream

Here I am, standing in this trailer
In your eyes I'm a failure
For wanting to travel the world like a sailor
From Beverly Hills to New York City
At this point I don't even care if you're with me
I may have augmented my hopes a bit too high
But I was tired of looking through telescopes, that habit can die
But dad look at me now
No longer in a small town
Can't be modest I have to boast
I'm traveling the world from coast to coast
In everybody's head is my riffs
And I wish you were here to see this
Swallow your pride long enough to shed a tear
Remember what you used to say, "Turn around, look in the mirror"...?
I wasn't no golden child and you weren't the perfect dad
But come on now, that's a thing of the past
You can ditch your bacon, eggs and Jimmy Dean
Live in luxury in your fields of green
Come on dad, won't you dream this different dream
with me?



NOTE: Words in italics are from the son's perspective, words in normal font are from the father's perspective, and words in bold is the chorus line.

I'm not sure where the idea came from. I was on a camping trip, heading back home, and all the sudden this whole elaborate story came to me and I started writing it all down on a notepad (back then I didn't have my Kindle Fire).


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013


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The Quintessential Parent Trap

I created you
the angelic, and the impish 
with my proud and selfless
love for you.
I enthusiastically ate for two
the sweet, the sour,
the salty, ravenous cravings.
I carried you
inside me, everywhere;
goodbye figure and posture
hello nausea and inexplicable dreams.
Laboring for hours
endless pain, draining my energy
to bring forth you
into this unforgiving
yet inhabitable world.
You had the audacity
with your very first breath
to make demands,
your wails echoing
to clothe, to nourish,
soothe and diaper.
Ensuing endless days
of changings, lingering guests,
photo ops, engorged breasts;
exhausting nights
with the sleep-deprived
DNA benefactor
who cannot truly believe
he has the privilege
to growl about any misery 
he encounters.
He is able, when he awakes
to go about his day 
without having to consider
anyone’s urgencies but his own.
“But I bring home the bacon”
he assuages.…blah blah blah.
Your physical abilities
I guided, while offering
spiritual awareness,
lavishing you with gifts;
all your needs addressed.
Later you believed
you were granted the right
to walk away from me
at any given time, 
while enouncing the notion
that I did not “know” anything!
I gave, gave, and gave some more
enabling you
to take, take, and take it all
disabling me
of my parental right
to unconditionally love you;
my most ungrateful 
successor to the throne
of unconventional parenting.
Despite the rebel proclivity,
you ultimately discerned
my essential longing
for your reverence and
long awaited mature interpretation
of my maternal matrix of
noble nurturing.
If I may be so brash
to foretell of your own
inevitable parental destiny,
may your own 
proverbial crimson piece of produce
similarly hit-the-dirt in close proximity
to your woodsy perennial. 



Copyright © Shani Fassbender | Year Posted 2011


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MISTER CLICHE



Mr Cliché was known for sleeping in his socks,
Where, he dreamt of thinking outside the box.
For breakfast as always he ate rather plain
Just porridge as he never went against the grain. 
Sometimes when dressing he would mumble and tut,
Making sure, to never put the shoe on the other foot.
When he looked in the mirror he called himself a winner
Then searched the fridge to see what to cook for dinner.
He often laughed about all the money he was makin’
As he ran to the butchers to bring home the bacon.
He glanced at his reflection and gave a little smile,
Deciding right there that he would go that extra mile.
He stated the obvious when the opportunity presented
As his colleagues nodded as if they were demented.
To busy to stop and to smell the flowers and roses,
As its much more important to strike the right poses.
When one day a child asked a question as plain as his nose
Did he base his life on the emperor’s invisible clothes?
No they are Armani you silly child what else would I wear
I look good in this suit and what others think I don’t care.
“Zoom” said the child as she waved her hand and walked away
We all die in the end Mister and that’s the real cliché.


Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2016


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The South Westerly


                     Oh! for the wet warm South Westerly 

                     after the cold white North Easterly leaving  

                     sparkling rain on each window pane South Westerly.
                  
                     At night this rain paints all inanimate things a vivid 
    
                     hue, while humans look care worn, some even sickly, 

                     no longer New Year spick and span but of a drearier hue. 

                     New snow in the Wolds as yeast in England's east, another 

                     feast for children and adults unable to bring home the bacon.

                     Drains turn into ice topped streams that underneath show 

                     water swimming like eels in a race to breed. Across the North Sea

                     diagonally from The Wash, heavy snow is falling in the Norge 

                     fjords like so many Vikings on a raid for plunder, trade or conquest.  

        


Copyright © Peter Dorr | Year Posted 2013


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Boredom

 
Boredom

Every single day I do the same stuff
I am shaken early in the morning
My days start already boring and rough
In the traffic, I listen to the honk horning
I want to stop and yell: Enough!
Oh, my feelings, my brain, it is storming
I keep thinking of some guff
but like a robot, I keep performing
I won't take another rebuff

I'd like to feel more at ease
and I have to bring home the bacon
there are so many people I have to please
I find myself alone and forsaken
Society is somehow a disease
For another day, I am waitin'
they will come, days like these
Same stuff if I am not mistaken
I will search for something to appease
all despair that I've been taken ?


Copyright © Ana Dyminski | Year Posted 2016


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Eiger counter

Eiger counter


"Don't throw the baby out with the bath water," please the water was clean after 
father and mother and the water was better than ever even after the brother but 
when eye took my bath the poor baby was lost they looked in the drain but poor 
baby was gone there forever. The moral is kept as a memorial there does not 
toss out the clean water.
A coward dies a thousand times but a hero dies but once and a man who lives 
much like a DOG is always spit upon but to be a dog still tied to the living is more 
to be desired than heroing  because the bible says a man who lives is better 
than the dead. 
We will get married in JUNE no we will marry in JULY or even MAY is better 
because the ewe is born the first time in the month of May showers and what’s in 
JULY well the CHARLAX was born and bred.
Bread was given out according to status. Workers were given the burnt bottom of 
the loaf, the family got the middle and guests got the top or the "upper crust."
The loaf of bread is still the status but now the homeless man gets his loaf 
without the burnt part on. Eye am now the uppermost crust.
Making the batter up planting the leaven worth leaving the center for mye family 
clan. 
Pease and thankzx ewe one and all for peas given do not thaw until the fall from 
vine refine the peas and make a handful last for days.
This is why the nursery rhymers’ fortold:
Peas porridge hot, peas’ porridge cold, pea’s porridge in the pot nine days old." 
Enter laughing.
It was a sign of wealth that a man could "bring home the bacon." They would sit 
around with guests, cut off a bit of pork and "chew the fat."  Then they would toss 
the ole pigskin.
Play leap pig again. Slop the children. Smoke the hambone and root in the cellar.
What a feller this poet seems at work. He has a eiger counter at his home.



Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2007


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Old ways worked

The Old Ways Worked 

Oh 50 years passed by with the flick of an eye
and our people got so soft don't you see
Back in the fifties people worked oh so hard
just to bring home the bacon for ye 

Well the machines oh they came and the work it all went
till there was nothing to do don't you see
it was better back then when the kids had respect 
for their elders who sired them with glee

Oh the people grow fat for there's nothing to do
no crowbar or shovel for ye
No sweat of the brow of a days work well done
and a cold beer at sunset for me….

Minority groups have stuffed up the world
full of great ideas so they think 
So now the kids are out of control
anarchy comes to the bar for a drink…

Oh I got the cane at school yes too right..
teachers got some respect just from me..
I didn't steal cars & didn't do time
and I’m drugs and alcohol free?
……..Don Johnson


Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2010


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Message delivery

poet talking tough
must take a stand
poisoned children
to put me under thumb
the gossip mill of word of mouth
learning how to swim
understanding genocide
living in this predicament
its me versus you, versus them
time to make a decision
time to take a stand
we continue doing nothing
we're all gonna die
trying to remedy poisoned children
of an act of war
drug campaign
is it worth the money to throw that many peoples lives away?

not everyone has time
to go in undercover
find the truth of the soo called chaos
and slide the message to the piper
blind leading the blind
you versus me versus them
can't tag the butcher
but the slaughter house seems to be my only option

couldnt play by the rules over there
running away sweaty playing the victom to blindside me
the world acts as a team
anything i know.
under the radar it shall be for all to read
learn to swim
the message a warning for those who choose to hear it
guilty and punished for the lies they believe
and the children and families going homeless
all thye worlds criminals in my backyard
how did i end up a jail house babysitter
for systematic emaotianl rapes

The message sent
communities enforcing rules
poison is poison
and that is premeditated murder
so all along youve been planning to kill me
all along they plan on killing you
for money
for status
for whatever
so lets play house with big brother
your too messed up to keep up to the changing rules we know as swimming
metaphorical armies
tired of endless punishment
blackmailed with blackmarkets and terrorism
just trying to live
trtyingh to deny
they dont plan on letting me

I can only avoid it soo long
i can only alter what i can
i will not accept this
poisoning children to cripple parents
learn to swim
how to bring home the bacon
three days for you to hear this message
then what it is will be

your not allowed to sell my children drugs
the jail house a game that you already have beat
my last resort as a civilian
blind leading the blind
to our own slaughter house
because survival depends on it
cant afford the ignorance
cant afford to sacrifice myself to help those throwing me away
I'm dead already
inside outsisde
emotionaly and mentaly
the silly games people play
the one message you need to hear
or we will run away as a society
run from the terror whoever they are
have succesfuly made us feel

The first level of how to belong
blindsides you
and a game i have beat


Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson | Year Posted 2010


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Lioness Mother

 Lioness mother
 Creeps into the killing fields
 She's got cubs to feed
 Her hunger unslakable
 And she'll bring home the bacon



Date written and posted: 06/03/2018





Copyright © Edward Ibeh | Year Posted 2018