Best Bulletin Poems
APB :
It has been confirmed victims Respect and Dignity have been found dead.
Respect died from several slaps to the face and Dignity was shot in the head.
Suspects have been identified as Dishonor Yu, Plain Ignorance and total disregard.
They have been affiliated with the gang Flippancy out of the city of Contemptuous yard.
Do not approach suspects they are considered arm with bad manners and a lack of upbringing.
If you have any information please contact your nearest Elder’s office at 1-800- needs a good ass kicking.
easy access and proliferation of firearms,
now begs a serious hard question
presenting daunting task,
quite aware that passionate
stalwart supporters of the NRA,
embrace weaponry likened
to garnering an Aboriginal trophy mask
(particularly in light of violent mass killings)
immediately forces people
of all stripes comprising this nation ask
quite aware of diametrically,
jarringly, and politically
doggedly entrenched fierce position
each polarized stance challenges,
especially when pitted
against die hard proponents
of the Second Amendment,
who would sooner burn to ash,
and/or adopt a siege mentality
glowering akin to red hot metal
regaling opportunity asper Liberal heads to bash,
than relinquish (lock, stock and barrel)
prized, coveted, and cherished cache
amassed collection of firearms
permissible in accordance
with (literal interpretation
of Second Amendment
of the United States Constitution)
to mean no deterrent preclude
(birth right to equip bare arms),
deprivation against amassing a stockpile,
would trigger an immediate saber flash
and instantaneously, another Civil War, would
(with gnash of clenched jaws violently
opposing manumission
to release obedient snap, crackle
pop in je nais sais quois booty), the provocation
rendering revision, sans sacred covenant
would sting whip lash
snuffing out any first and last hope to reconcile
divisive national issue
with cool collected talking heads,
cuz shoot at the hip diplomacy
be loved American style,
that indomitable fighting
esprit de corps tis fire in belly trial
though this skeptical and devout atheist,
would welcome being proved wrong
generating the better angels to render obsolete strong
arm of the law as plucked harps evoke swan song
witnessing unbelievable savoir faire
(forcing me to retract pessimism
and willingly swallow my pride), minus long
time overdue, and negotiation
celebrated with tolling from a gong.
Fear and panic have struck
our minds and love one's hearts
The bad is walking over us
as if a giant wanting
to crush everything in it's path
Demons eyes are burning red
and ever so frightening
as if their presence is everywhere
Because the battle isn't won
Who believe this is an act of God
in the events of buildings
having been destroyed
So many people have been
involved in something unpleasant
and danerous Snake bitten as
if by a King's cobra It all began long
before the year two - thousand - one
Who believe this is an act of God
the bombing of our allied's
homeland again an again
and over and over Other countries
are becoming mass destructive
targets and suffering in a
magnitude of losses that demand's
a rebuilding period as time slips
into the future To me and others
be it Americans, African Americans,
or people in other countries
Most of them would agree and say
that God is good and gave his only
begotten son to the world where
as we the people would be forgiven
of all our sins
Invading and destroying someone
else's homeland is not an act of God
We must stay on alert in our own countries
The poet has post his bulletin of the
battle isn't won
Sometimes I don’t know which one of us is broken
And which one of us does the breaking
I’m still not sure exactly who I’ve become
Or if I’ve even begun changing
You stepped out for another smoke outside
Didn’t want to wake me up as I’m reclined on this chair
I’m not a heavy sleeper, I hear your footsteps back and forth
Is it me you’re brooding over? I’d hate for it to be someone else
It’s crazy, this 80 mile an hour ride we’ve been on
“Together” seems like a word on a bulletin board
A word that you say over and over, it loses meaning
Kind of like the way the years have taken toll
When my grandfather died my grandma didn’t shed a tear
Makes me wonder the love she still had for him
It must be hard living year after year
And then the years come by and cause the end
I wonder how it’ll be, you and me
When we grow old and brittle
Will we still sit around watching television?
Will it still matter if he retain our skills?
When I look in the mirror, I see age creeping in
When I’m no longer a shadow of my former self
I’m a stranger, with myself living within
At least I’m not living with anyone else
My mind wants to escape this madness
But I don’t want to be separated from my mind
I look at you for comfort, but I see your sadness
But along with the sadness, I see that you’re kind
Together is a word on a bulletin board
And the words keep repeating, droning on and on
But something tells me it’s not going to get old
I’ll just get use to your breathing, and I promise to cry when you’re gone
***** NONPARTISAN SHAM (BULL SH*T) SPECIAL NEWS BULLETIN *****
Innocuous, yet unhealthy threat looms across
(air/radio) telecommunications devices
linkedin with plenti networks that criss cross
even primitive computers utilizing DOS
by George, which archaic code
once powered Mill on the Floss,
now long since covered over
with flora I lichen and recognize as moss.
Surgeon general (Jerome Michael Adams
20th Surgeon General of the United States)
strongly advises against, yet he does not boast
threat looms large coast to coast
watching more than five minutes at most
equivalent machination, the following I post
re: guarding haunting experience
analogous visit by fashionably late ghost
2020 presidential election coverage
able, eager, and ready to prey upon host
whereby curious George experiences
feeling noggin fried like toast.
A carefully worded (fake) communiqué
purportedly the brainchild of one freak
Matthew Scott Harris,
whose jargon puzzling as deciphering Greek
long story short while in utero,
he experienced cerebral leak,
said cheesy mousy man no longer meek
quite evident courtesy literary pique
his haughty style aiming to characterize
generic guy as self anointed Sheikh
sought after acceptance tepid and week.
Nevertheless he speaks/writes truth to power
aforementioned serious risk steeped within
social media platform sensory overload I ascribe,
whereby subliminal messages
voter's blitzkrieg does bribe,
albeit unconsciously, hence me subsequent rhyme
equals forewarning in league with mild diatribe
which receptive yours truly can transcribe.
All joking aside
oversaturation soaking up
presidential election aye chide
against viewing in excess (five minutes at most)
affixed to live streaming broadcast
can find thee steadfast staring getting bug eyed
thus hoop fully let moderation serve as guide
cuz the eventual outcome re: guarding
president elect political experts cannot hide
though be wary lest premature ejaculation trumpets
sore loser candidate, that
bombastic egotistical ignoramus lied
cuz prejudice nsync with pompous pride
for four years to many
the webbed wide world let him slide,
now as one common Joe,
a hardened criminal he best be tried.
A BULLETIN AND A SMILE
A bulletin and a smile--it may not seem like much,
But when she gave them to you, it was a special touch.
A voice that said, “Good morning,” expecting you to say
A happy greeting to her whene’er you came her way.
One night she lay there sleeping, and saw another face,
A smile in heaven to greet her, for she was saved by grace.
I wonder if Christ met her with a bulletin in hand--
The program for her future there in that promised land.
I know that Jesus met her with a smile and open arms,
To welcome her to heaven, now safe from all earth’s harms.
I know He paid attention to the family she raised
Who gave their lives to serve Him, to lift His name in praise.
We’ll miss her in our service, but glad she’s dwelling where
There’s never any heartache, and never any care.
A bulletin and a smile--they stay right there to be
A testimony of her for everyone to see.
But more important to you is knowing you will see
This land she now has gone to for all eternity.
Accept Him as your Savior, whom this lady loved and knew,
And everything He came for when He died for me and you.
Written in memory of Dorothy Jonas