Best Cohorts Poems
Sub-titled: What’s in YOUR Fridge?
Please allow me to introduce myself:
My name is Ms. Fridge A. Daire
I stand tall among my lesser cohorts
and MOST of them really look up to me
However, I have two problems:
First, I’m FED UP with my owner
He's always opening my door
reaching deep inside (Oooh yeah!)
helping himself to my goodies
without EVER cleaning me out
or scrubbing me from top to bottom
Doesn’t he know a woman has NEEDS?
Then there’s that stupid stove next to me
who’s constantly flirting and making passes
Says he wants to ‘warm me up’ and ‘defrost’ me
bragging that I’ve ‘got the hots’ for him
which absolutely makes my Freon boil!
Of course, I always give him the cold shoulder
by freezing him with my famous icy stare
and responding, “Simmer down Four-Eyes"
or “I don’t date shorter appliances"
But he’s always cooking up something else...
So I asked my owner to move me to another spot
He said he would if I wasn’t so heavy...HEAVY?
What kind of thing is THAT to say to a lady?
He also claims there’s no other place to plug me
PLUG me? Who does he think I am anyhow?
I found it quite crude and vulgar! ANYWAY...
I suggested an extension cord and he blew a fuse!
Geez, no wonder he’s still single...
Scrolling and scrolling
the scripts slipping in
seduction of the scene
seen or unseen
deflection
not to mention reflection
mirrors don't always appear
to be or not to be
drastic times call for drastic measures
an ideal idiom of sorts
depending on who's cause
effects the cohorts
a false dichotomy on decline
no one gets to run or hide
even they can't pick a side
________________
I digress as I undress the distress
and distraugt being taught
but is any of this right
why is there always a fight
I'd rather spread peace
and love
not push, not shove
so in the shadow of hate
I simply wait
stripped down and nude
join me, would you?
autumn fills sparse spaces we occupy,
seasonal change that closes in like shutters
briskly paced days of chilling charm
leaves dropping like wooing words of fidelity
leaves that flatten the ground in patterns
displacement
in re-configuring trees
purposeful moves to rake stained prints of color into piles
rhythmic strokes that quicken in musty air
tedious chore to some
to me, contemplation
buoyant day dreams
my raked pile of impressions
leaves tumbling over the ground like memories
of lost days
some marked by brown edges with black blotches
some colored vibrant, in reds and yellows
like victory
I drop backwards into a stacked pile
autumn's luminous shred
ragged cohorts
withering in traces of unease
that touches me like absence
I rise up
gaze at the approaching clutch
when clouds weigh the shambling sky in gray
when cyclic tales take green to red-flamed lineage
capricious leaves
fall
in the irrefutable tow of change
Poem composed: September 13/2022
Now is the summer of our discontent
Made glorious opportunity for change
And all the clouds that lower on our land
In the bosom of the media rearranged
While I who have no mind for fair concord
Determine to conspire and prove the fiend
And hate the idle pleasures life affords
Ensure conflict is harvested and gleaned
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
To instigate a man against a brother
Black history I will exploit to thrust
In deadly hate one race upon the other
Soft hearted folks I will manipulate
And play upon their heartstrings for my schemes
Their sympathy emotions shall dictate
Virtue signalling conformant to woke memes
To activate my hidden plan I’ll move
Self righteous useful pawns - give delegation
With peaceful protests (who could not approve?)
Though they shall lead to ruinous conflagration
The people will rise, call for a redeemer
When old regime has made a full contrition
To save the nation, be a chaos healer
I’ll, with reluctance, undertake the mission
Then my control shall be with iron fist
Surveillance of the people I’ll refine
And cohorts of young zealots I’ll enlist
The name: ‘Beloved Leader’ shall be mine
18 June 2020
Author's Note: Recite the following using the rhythm and melody of "Home, home on the range where the deer and the antelope play." The first verse can be used as the refrain:
His income tax structure is strange
Donald will the needy shortchange
The overly rich
Claim their life is a b-i-t-c-h
For them he’ll find bucks on the range
A clear planet earth never smokes
But Trump’s cohorts grim are the Kochs
Where fossils remain
They'll tear into the plain
Fracking rigs are their dirty jokes
There's fat upon Miss USA
The Donald says queen you shall pay!
"For my regal job"
She did painfully sob
"Is rehab a roll in the hay?"
Like buffalo once were so vast
Our middle class was unsurpassed
Now they are the prey
While republicans play
And deny the climate forecast
silver cresent in the sky
with silent stars and distant eyes
reaping with your silver claw
all the sin that God saw
digging into guilty flesh
darkness the theme of her caress
creeping with evil cohorts
for a few the very last resort
wittness to the crimes of time
will you tell the secrets mine
moonlight not the helper of crime
but the shinning light of the Divine
eye's of a secret spy
seeing reasons that men cry
just a whisper of the light
a reveiler of aweful sights
with the mirage of darkness comes fright
shadows of monsters creatures of the night
dozens of thing that are not right
even the sins of lovers delight
friend of lovers Queen of night
just a whisper of the light
when the end comes we wonder who
who you'll tell your secrets to
I
am
a single
tear drop,
who casts the
the floodgates
open, sole liberated
elixir from seclusion’s
silent secret,heavy bellied
now in eloquence calling
to my cohorts, “come let
us gather in our sorrow
to languid dance the
night away!”
CHARLIE'S CARTOON CHARACTERS
Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a far away land, in the land where Charlie lived, there was a group of cartoon characters who felt as though they were the greatest thing to come along since sliced bread was put on the market. They were truly a curious bunch of characters who could be seen on any given day careening down the thoroughfare on their coveted tricycles causing people to scatter for fear of being crushed by these cavorting crazies who carelessly chose to clutter up the sidewalkway and the crosswalk while practically choking with laughter.
From the other side of town, there came a handsome, muscled up soon to be champion of the people because he had come to clean up this careening group of cartoon characters and put Charlie in his place. This champion's name was Clint, as in Eastwood, but even more impressive. He came into town on his cherished red, white, and blue skateboard. Clint was on a crusade. Yes, he was certainly charismatic and rather charming with his crooked little curved lip smile and the cheroot cigar clamped tightly between his crystalline teeth. Well, his very appearance was enough to convince Charlie and his gang of cohorts to seek a change of scenery and move to an entirely different city. Clint never even had to get off of his skateboard except to convince a certain little campus cutie that he was to become her cherished companion and settle down in a clean little cabin on the corner of Clint Avenue and Colleen Boulevard. Yes, that is what the town folks named that location. Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention that the little campus cutie was named Colleen. She and Clint are the proud parents of Curtis, Catherine, Constance, and two classy little girls named Jan and Andrea. They all live happily in Cunningham, Colorado. Cunningham is a little place named after a poet, Tom Cunningham. Tom and another noted poet named Bob Hinshaw help Clint maintain law and order as they sit around thinking up stuff to write for folks to read when they don't have anything better to do.
13 November 2018
For the contest sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
PARDON MY FRENCH
She swore like a sailor
and what did it mean?
Did he cuss as a pause...
were their cohorts unclean?
Were their vocabularies lacking
in something rich or refined?
Did they swear in frustration,
were their expletives unkind?
Was she to quit swearing
when dad counts to five?
Did he pay at the cuss jar
in a ten dollar crash dive?
Must they think of real words
and substitute when they can?
Should they change their slang
before, the *#!% hits the fan?
It's a hard thing to do in
replacing letters of four.
His teacher says,"try five,"
Her's says,"try a few more!"
Her Mom says more letters
is just what she needs.
And he tries to count five
but, his Urban impedes.
The kids say, four letters
are not that dirty or bad!
Why must they change them
when they like what they've had.
There is power in speech
and it tells all about us.
So use five letter words
and please, do not cuss.
The kids were too literal
in the teaching they heard.
They discovered, in short,
FIVE, is a four letter word.
By Edlynn Nau
© June 28, 2016
Is scamming an issue of morals or an issue of gullabilities, your emotions and kindness can be vulnerabilities. Beware of the four one nine, the code for scams, black money, virtual love, the psychology telegram. People have been taken out for their anonymous cohorts, the lure of money, underground fame is being played like a sport. Some economies thrive on internet fraud, it shows how humans and psychology are actually flawed. This simple brilliancy will prey on the unwary, signed contracts, fake contacts, some will even trick you to marry. Lottery scams, free kittens, a dignitary is in jail, but you can make triple whatever they’re asking you for bail. Money laundering, missing assets, is this a moral issue, or a deeper societal virus where malignant virtues are the brand new. Technological literate children in a perceived corrupt world, the future scammers, innovators, and investigators of this world.
IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA
BASE FORTHWITH.
ALSO, ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS,
SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS,
WEBMASTERS, WEB BASED LINKS, WINKS, TWINKS, SHRINKS, COLONEL
CLINKS, BOSSES, CO-WORKERS, EMPLOYEES,VENDORS, SUPPLIERS,
SALESMEN, ACCOUNT REPS/EXCS, ACCOUNTANTS, BROKERS, CO-BROKERS,
HACKERS, SLACKERS, WHACKERS, JERKS, SOLICITORS, SIDEKICKS,
COHORTS, WINGMEN, WHEELMEN, LOOKOUTS, OUTLAWS, IN-LAWS,
RELATIVES, FIANCES, BOYFRIENDS, GIRLFRIENDS, FRIENDS, FOES,
ENEMIES, EVIL NEMESIS’, DERELICTS, DEGENERATES, DOPERS, DEALERS,
TWEEKERS, GAMBLERS, RAMBLERS, CANVASSERS, INQUIRERS, QUEERS,
QUEENS, COWBOYS, KINGS, FAGS, DRAGS, HAGS, HETEROS, HOMOS, TONY
ROMOS, FEMALE IMPERSONATORS, [PRE OR POST] MALE IMPERSONATORS,
DICKS, DYKES, VAN DYKES, DICK VAN DYKE, LESBIANS, LONGSHOREMEN,
SHORTSHOREMEN, LIARS, BUYERS, CRYERS, CIGAR SMOKERS, CARPET
MUNCHERS, RUG RATS, TODDLERS, TEENAGERS, JUVENILE DILINQUENTS,
SENIORS, SUCKERS, TRUCKERS, MOTHER shut yer mouth, LAW MAKERS,
LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS, JUDGES, POLITICIANS, LEADERS, FOLLOWERS,
DISCIPLES, PROPHETS, EVANGELISTS, SAVIORS, SINNERS, SAINTS,
SOOTHSAYERS, MEDICENE MEN, GYPSYS, TRAMPS, AND THIEVES, WITCHES,
WARLOCKS, VAMPIRES, LYCANS, ZOMBIES, WAR MONGERS, PROTESTERS,
VIGILANTES, VICTIMS, SOLIDERS, GENERALS, GOVERNORS, PRESIDENTS,
PATRIOTS, PACKERS, LIONS, BEARS, BROWNS, BLACKHAWKS, REDWINGS,
RIGHT WING, LIBERALS OR LAW BIDING CITIZENS. THEY ARE NOT TO
CONTACT ME AND LOOSE MY NUMBERS.
BUT, IF YOU SEE MY MOM, TELL HER TO CALL ME.
BA-ZING!
?
You can't imagine what its like to march on a sacred city,
to plunder and pulverize a Peoples' promise to Deity,
demolishing centuries of lavish labor, wasting offspring of ancient heredity,
destroying flesh, scriptures and stone with a savage Roman military synergy,
a discipline determined in it's destruction of dissention, inspired by ancestral victory,
politics was not our purview, methodical punishment was our specialty,
We were War's royalty, we were Legio XV Apollonaris,
monsters of Mars, messengers of Apollo, the juggernaut of Jupiter,
along with 11 other Legions led by General Titus, 60, 000 cuts of glory we stood,
for 3 and a half years we fought through Jewish guerilla ambush
asymetrical urban warfare welting our progress like a pirate pestilence
district after district, hell spell after hell spell we bled with chilled maneuver,
the Zealots were pyromaniacs, burnt sacraficers, their zeal and our bodies zesty wood,
in the Kidron Valley they flooded the streets " knee high " with oiled water
as the Cohorts waded through the lanes leery, a torch was tossed, flames rose in rush
240 men perished like spazing stars trapped in a box, our grief agape with a horrified crush,
as reprimand, Titus made the Legate sit in a tent with his chopped off ring finger
smoldering like hot sand in the hand of a marooned man aware of error in his plan,
the insurgents had men we called Fox Tails, desperate demons who knew how Hell began,
as a skirmish succumbed to our skill and number they would run into apartments,
dragging the fury of our blades into rooms of Hades revenge, these were fire entrapments,
the buildings would blaze like windowed volcanos, screams salting us with panic linger,
It was not uncommon to discover a missing Brother Legionary
castrated, and decapitated with a headedless eagle carved upon his chest,
don't speak to me about morals and mercy for I have seen and dealt the damage of rude death
hate becomes your Father, vengence your Mother, aggravated murder your cause
when everything you revere and fear merge to make a leviathen of life,
the " Chosen People " of God became the chosen target of annihilation,
Mount Moriah, mansion of Yahweh the Pariah would become capital of Divine crucifixion,
J.A.B.
This poem has been entered into the Roman Legion Contest
to honor Ancient Rome and the Poet who sponsored this historical subject.
In a dark, dark room,
an eerie aura surrounds;
deathly whispers crawl in the air,
sounding like incantations.
A sarcophagus lays still in the room,
whispers oozing out of it; no one knows
that the sarcophagus is a portal to the Underworld,
where Anubis and his cohorts reign.
Only the Book of Ra; its jacket containing the symbol
of the Scarab Beatle, that can chase away the whispers,
and curses from the whispers.
The evil dead continue to be undead, 'til when the Destined One
finds Ra's Book, and chants the verses that he sees.......
…………………………………………………………………………………
''Dark things happened there....''
they say, with fading tones,
almost reaching their vanishing point,
due to unhidden fright.
Sometimes they hear eerie moans;
see dancing shadows on the space
between the door and floor; other times
whispers that make them feel as though
they will shatter like hollow glass tubes.
To stop the haunting,
they hired spiritualists to seal
the room's door with their divine will.
Candles flicker in the night,
as voices of the undead wander across the corridors.....
(The first verse is a poem titled “Whispers of Anubis”, which was published on 8/9/2014. The second verse is a poem titled “The Locked Room”, which was published on 25/4/2014. I have divided both poems with a dotted line.)
Conversing with You is no easy task,
I can’t see Your eyes when You laugh.
I know You handle everything I ask,
everything You do is on my behalf.
Child, I have given you all that you need,
the sun, moon, and stars are My eyes you see.
I will never sleep, to ever mislead,
it does not mean I will always agree.
God, sometimes You do not answer,
when my reservations are why.
Why You allowed my Breast Cancer,
permitted me to live not die?
Don’t get me wrong God, I love life,
love having my family around me.
Nothing is better than being a wife,
and having children was no guarantee.
Child, I did not assign you the tumor,
to enter your form with warranted pain.
No idea where you acquired such rumor,
you need to know that I am more humane.
I cannot control what your cohorts do,
the ones who manage food and pollute lakes.
Waters have changed to brown not blue,
it is mankind whom has made the mistakes.
You live because you have asked to,
remember your prayer in years past.
To watch your children live life through,
I have done everything you asked.
God, proud to converse with You my concern,
although I talk to You most every day.
I know someday You will return,
when, is not for me to ask or to say…
Copyright © 2012 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fifth Place Winner ~ "Collaborating In The Clouds” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Poet~Destroyer
August 21, 2012
Ignatius inspected his cohort
The unknown one and his men
He needed the best to fight for him
He needed the best to fight for them
Iduma stood tall, with a beard of fiery red
Didn’t like Ignatius, he wanted his job instead
Now was the time, he could prove his worth
He was born to be a leader; he knew it from birth
Ianus the two-faced one, wasn’t sure whose side to take
He watched Ignatius and Iduma, he waited for his break
The cohorts were ordered to drink, and sup from the pool
Then Ignatius would pick his men, he was nobody’s fool
To take Britannia from Caesar, that was Ignatius’ game
And then he wouldn’t be unknown, everyone will know his name
The ones that sipped from the pool, while keeping watch around
They were the cohorts Ignatius used, his cohorts he had found
Caesar when he slept, would be in his tent set by the river
Ignatius sent his men, to bring back the Caesar’s liver
Iduma heard the plan, his temper rose and boiled
He would not let Caesar die; it was Ignatius that would be broiled
Ianus watched them both, a side he needed to pick
He wanted to be on the winning one, he knew he must act quick
The cohorts crept into the camp; to take Caesar was their plan
Then Ignatius knew he would be leader, he would be their man
Ianus decided to foil the plan, and so he set a small trap
He told Caesar what was afoot, and then his thigh did slap
He hid in Caesars’ tent and waited for the cohorts
But it seemed to him that Idouma… must have read his thoughts
His two-faced trickery failed, at the conception of his plan
Iduma didn’t trust him, he was a two-faced man
Ianus of the two faces would pick sides when things were good
But he hadn’t counted on Idouma; it was something that he should
Ignatius failed to take Caesar, and will forever remain unknown
Londinium became a diocese, of the Roman throne
With Ianus dead and Ignatius too, that left only Iduma with his men
For Caesar to promote him, not of one cohort, but ten.
Ignatius . Loose translations in Latin …..Unknowning
Iduma… ……………………………. red
Ianus… …………………………… two faces.
Caesar……………………………………King
Cohorts…….. The Legion was split into 10 Cohorts. The Cohorts were divided into
Centuries. The First Cohort contained five centuries of 160 'crack troops.