Best Cronies Poems
Fanatics in Talibama
stadiums of bigoted extravaganza
hopefully supporters one day held to account
for abusing children in the name
of evangelical doctrine
He assassinates foreign officials
as terrorists like to do
he supplies Saudi Arapia
so they can kill more children than you
he loves his small fingers and his walls
He runs his concentration camps
he stops the needy from eating food stamps
socialism is all so very bad
unless is to help the richly glad
or paying hookers for the peeing mad hatter
Many cronies gone to jail
he will sell out his family
never mind sell-out the USA and democracy
he's Putin's batch and that's a fact
for years washing money for those Russian rats
He downed a plane for his re election
he said Obama would do the same
however Obama it seems was not insane
Trump committed crimes against humanity
time for him to face the wall
Of justice
Categories:
cronies, allah, america, betrayal, children,
Form:
Quatrain
Self righteous there, he stands and preens, this perfect specimen
Due to Mothers nurturing, alive and prospering.
Forgotten are the years of toil, the Mothers care and love
The Brother and the Sister, he keeps his head above
What poison foul infects his blood, and whispers in his ear
to Blind his eyes and turn his head from truth’s he will not hear
In judgement he declares the fault, forgetting what He’s done
Self righteous words and nasty mouth, deny the blame he owns
The bond he broke, the lives that spent, creating him a home
Are conveniently forgotten , he must have done it on his own
The years of dedicated Love, are foreign to his kind
The loyal years of Motherhood discarded in his mind
Oh that he could just stand aside ,and see what he could be
Just take the look, review himself and see what others see
An arrogant uncaring fool who pose’s puffs and struts
fawning Yes’s on his cronies , and to his family But’s
He’s lost forever, lest he changes temper tantrum’d rants
Grow from a nasty little Boy and take the real mans stance.
For many things in life don’t last, they’re transient you see
But a Mothers care and heartfelt love will live eternally
Or will he visit once a year for duty tend a grave
A caring loving thankful son, for show he will be brave
Remember this you upstart, no matter what you say
The debt you owe your Mother, you never can repay
Next time you start your little rants and Put your Mother down
When she is dead and in her grave forgiveness won’t be found.
Categories:
cronies, childhood, dedication, children, forgiveness,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
He went the way of a sickly pigeon,
and dropped his nasty load on religion.
The evil ones hailed him,
power they availed him,
which increased his vanity a smidgeon .
He declared himself the messiah,
From the depths of earthen hell fire,
The people believed him,
almighty pride seized him,
now he’s forcing God to retire.
You see there’s only room for one master,
to be God is what evil is after,
As enticing as it looks,
he and his cronies and crooks,
are setting the world up for disaster.
We Christians who always vote by rote,
keeping the Truths of our faith in a tote,
it’s we that keep evil in power,
We’ll know that in our last hour,
Right after we get thrown from the Boat.
Author's note:
I read that in the last presidential election, 57% of Christians
voted for the present administration which is currently in the midst of
of taking away their rights to conciencious objectionality and religious freedom
where the killing of babies ("abortion" for those of you who are still in la la land)
and the financial obligation for it is concerned.
It is now desired by the present administration that Christians too pay for this
murderous and horrific agenda.
To the 57% of Christians who voted for the current administration: you got your choice.
Are congratulations in order?
-Robert A. Dufresne
Categories:
cronies, growing up, religion, god,
Form:
Limerick
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
Categories:
cronies, angst, death, family, father,
Form:
Quatrain
Why, the greatest enemy of man is man
for man has subdued everything else
Fear not the tiger, fear the murderer's plan
Just hearken well to what history yells!
At times twas jingoism, at times a rancorous desire to do harm
Fear just man's malice and his ugly evil
If his dagger blow fails, he'll get you by black magic charm
His heart and mind alone well shelter the devil.
For how many fall prey to lions or snakes
one could even count them on fingers
Man invents a cure for smallpox but missiles too he makes
and he mercilessly kills without harbingers.
Man invented as many things for his destruction and harm
as he did for his benefit and good
He's inventor of bombs as well as tractors on the farm
And doesn't he detest acting as he should?
Man alone is behind the bloodiest of bloodshed
The angels too had foreseen his wars and battles
From the gory battlefield to the humble homestead
with the shrieks of murder our earth forever rattles!
Close your doors and your home secure
not to deter beasts, but to lock out the robber, the thief
For no greater danger than man lurks there for sure
Fear not the fierce bull, that you can turn into beef!
Wild beasts might be known to gobble us up
but isn't man as well found to be a cannibal?
Gosh, humans too on human flesh do sup
Man tis far more fearsome than any poor animal.
The greatest enemy of man thus is man himself
How much blood has he ruthlessly spilt of his own kind
Look out for the bottle of poison on his shelf
Till the deed is done, no knowing what goes on in his mind.
The poor young lady refrains from venturing out at night
How now, what does she so fear?
She fears nothing but assault by man's might
so rarely is she stalked by a grizzly bear!
Fortunately for us, this ain't how it always ends
man can always be the best of friends
So we can still count more on buddies and cronies
instead of focusing on foes and fiends.
For man he can be a hero and saviour
if judicious he is about right and wrong behaviour.
Besides religion as I know, infact does actually foretell
That the end of ALL killers and murderers
is that inferno of divine wrath we all know as hell!
Categories:
cronies, conflict, corruption, society, war,
Form:
Quatrain
Thinking back when I was young
I still recall your bitter tongue
you guys weren’t fooling anyone
behind those plastic smiles.
She felt the daggers in her back
and as she passed I heard you laugh
I’m sure she felt the aftermath
of your relentless wiles.
Your loyal cronies all stood by
and watched as you demoralized
and tortured her with callous lies
she choked and ran away.
I saw her crying in the queue
and I just didn’t know what to do
I felt as much to blame as you
because I’d looked away.
A football game, perhaps a dance
I’d meet her if by happenstance
and hoping for a second chance
to fix things, I would try.
Years have passed I think of her
I wonder how her life endured
all the pain from you and yours
…and now it’s me who cries.
Categories:
cronies, bullying,
Form:
‘Twas close to the day when Buba Claus,
His red nose and Bowie knife shining,
Would be off to fill the manly's hearths,
With bacon for their frying.
The ground was bare of snow or ice,
The sky was clear of reindeer.
But Buba Claus was loading his sleigh,
Real high, with good stout Yule beer?
Buba Claus was out in force,
His NRA cronies in tow,
To fill naughty radicals stockings,
With tiny bits of coal.
Cigars dangled from their lips,
A spittoon he placed by their feet,
And, before the sleigh rose off the ground;
They tossed in another side of beef.
Each carnivore, they laughingly swore;
Would have their fill this year,
And Bambi blanched as He flew by,
While Teddy Bears ran in fear!
Over New Canaan His courses flew,
Past the homes of vegetarians;
And down their chimneys they did toss;
The views of Libertarians!
And when the last haunch was placed,
Upon the spits of the mighty,
His spat his cud of gnarly gum,
Into the spittoon real tidy!
Then he flew off with a Ho, Ho, Ho,
And, not the ones for plowing
Cause Buba Claus had his own ideas
Of all Santa’s sissy endowings!
Categories:
cronies, holiday
Form:
Rhyme
‘Twas close to the day when Buba Claus,
His red nose and Bowie knife shining,
Would be off to fill the manly's hearths,
With bacon for their frying.
The ground was bare of snow or ice,
The sky was clear of reindeer.
But Buba Claus was loading his sleigh,
Real high, with good stout Yule beer?
Buba Claus was out in force,
His NRA cronies in tow,
To fill naughty radicals stockings,
With tiny bits of coal.
Cigars dangled from their lips,
A spittoon he placed by their feet,
And, before the sleigh rose off the ground;
They tossed in another side of beef.
Each carnivore, they laughingly swore;
Would have their fill this year,
And Bambi blanched as He flew by,
While Teddy Bears ran in fear!
Over New Canaan His courses flew,
Past the homes of vegetarians;
And down their chimneys they did toss;
The views of Libertarians!
And when the last haunch was placed,
Upon the spits of the mighty,
His spat his cud of gnarly gum,
Into the spittoon real tidy!
Then he flew off with a Ho, Ho, Ho,
And, not the ones for plowing
Cause Buba Claus had his own ideas
Of all Santa's sissy endowings!
Categories:
cronies, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
Whispered words from behind a wall,
to cronies gathered short and tall.
“Go on ahead,” he said, “let's see.”
“If I can turn her sweet on me.”
So from within, she heard the tale:
the rye, small, snickers, the wolves’ wails.
Yet, like the doe in the fires light,
the wail entranced, did not cause fright.
Wide-eyed, so stunned, the morsel stood,
in frozen stance within the wood.
Within his reach and steady glance,
the hunter broached the ancient dance.
With swagger, grace, he set the pace.
the honeyed tongued Knight on the chase.
He spoke words of honor, brave deeds,
of his claimed virtues she took heed.
“No, ” said the Maid, for she was shy.
“I’m afraid,” she moaned. “Do you lie?”
He turned her chin, and eye to eye,
stroked her fair cheek and heard her sigh.
Offered cake to this starving waif,
with trembling hands, she took the bait.
For upon his lips and rough skin,
She could, sweet-sugar, taste within.
He sought the warmth of her blood; bone.
He thought the conquest was his own.
Yet, she too held a hope within,
to bring forth the goodness in him.
Oh, she could feel his aching need,
'Twas his seedling soul, she'd feed.
The prey, prayed, to touch his heart.
to give the Hunter a new start.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many’s the times, his teeth came near,
to the pulsing vein in her throat.
Many times the Universe stopped
like a dandelion seed afloat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The hunter balked, stayed for a time,
tasted the joy of her sweet wine;
loving the feel of a drink new,
a gift, love, offered each of you.
Could he extinguish this pure light?
Could He reciprocate, cause fright?
Sorry, was the wolf deep within.
He was sorry; she’d let him in.
Sorry, he couldn't grow in her arms,
Sorry, he couldn't loose to her charms.
“Sorry,” on the tip of his tongue.
As he left her, unharmed, on run.
“Sorry.” said she, rising higher,
made stronger by her pure desire.
Like the ancient Phoenix, she rose,
on the wings of her loves fire.
And prayer floated back from above.
A prayer, sent with her hearts' love.
echoing his sentiment many ways.
“Sorry Love," She said.
"May the Wolf find his Way.”
Categories:
cronies, lost love, lovewords, sweet,
Form:
Ballad
There was a time when
pleasure came on the tip of a tongue.
When fear fled and the senses
did indulge.
Though visions dim and
sound distorts, dismays…
the tang of sweet and sour stay
abides within the aged form
in figureless grace.
Released are we aged crones and cronies
no longer the baited traps, the pollen
for the laden prongs
of progeny.
Categories:
cronies, allegory,
Form:
Free verse
The old King took to the battle
and leapt into the fencers fray.
“Noblesse oblige” his cronies cry.
“Our King will save the day!”
He was a bull to their gazelle
nae a fair fight, nae by half;
he'd fight just to see the thralls fall
he ‘d pierce those peacocks for a laugh!
His continence was so fearsome.
His two burly arms a rare threat.
Some would nae fight His Majesty
nor fight of his knightly get.
“How is this fair?” the Lord’s lament.
How well met can these odd match be?
“Unless, of course, ‘twas nae ‘bout fair
this was nae called noblesse oblige!
In heavy plate with blade and pole
with broadsword, He’d bested the field;
so, as the fencers broached this game
the wiser lads all chose to yield.
They would nae raise a blade to him
nor would they save for him a dance;
many a brave man whispered there
and the bolder looked on askance.
“Let Him have the day! We’ll nae play
Noblesse oblige, my fine backsides!”
And, so the fancy fencers fell
like pretty harp seals on the tide.
There are many a way to win
and sure, many a way to loose.
Yet ‘tis the metal of the man
shows in the way that he chooses.
Categories:
cronies, allegory, history, introspection
Form:
Rhyme
Yes….YOU…you thimble headed moron;
why do you think your realities SO unique?
What gives you a claim on rightness?
Rightness, righteousness, right, “OH MY!”
OZ was a much more clear-cut place to live.
At least the wizard there displayed
his over blown head.
Let the curtains fall open
revealing his
bulbous backside;
exposed the blithering well intentioned?
idiot behind the screen.
“Grow UP! There is no right, no wrong…
It’s situational, experiential, cultural….
GET a grip!
Before one of your right wing Cronies
Goes POSTAL.”
Categories:
cronies, education
Form:
Free verse
That fateful, tragic day of 9/11
was a busy one, for Jannah and Heaven.
The day the seed of war was sown
dictatorships the US wanted overthrown
no wonder the worlds overdraft has grown!
The truth though was in disguise
as fox news spread their lies
despicable people, I truly despise
who pull the wool over the Sheople's eyes.
The plane that hit the pentagon
so quickly was that wreckage gone.
now so many lives to destroy
firing missiles like some toy.
So much coincedence, purely circumstance
the armies are all set now to advance
as bush and the Devil jigged a joyous dance.
I loathe to say it so blunt,
but I think Bush is a ....!
For he has turned the world against each other
and caused the death of many a brother.
It makes my blood truly boil
we started a war for cheap bloody oil.
So when the world ends with a small bang
Bush and his corrupt cronies, can go to Jahannam!!
Please don't believe all you're told,
for the truth you know, are the lies your sold!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull
Categories:
cronies, confusion, political, war, war,
Form:
Ringleted and pink cheeked, the girl child sat,
Upon the bench next to her Da and his cronies.
The Goliaths munched greasy burgers and string fries.
Dirt smudged her upturned face.
Like the remnants of the grime covering Da's overalls.
Baseball caps and factory-embroidered jackets;
Spoke of tractor pulls and manure piles ripe for the garden.
A bunch of salt laced potatoes dangled from her mitt.
Droplets of gooey ketchup dribbled from the corner of her lip.
Uncles surrounded in a girth of love so large
And as her tiny paten leather feet touched the floor
Her hand reached for Da's and the blankie.
All was right with the world.
Categories:
cronies, devotion
Form:
Free verse
With his arm held closely by his side,
President Putin took a ride,
On his steed, so big and strong
Who thought this man could do no wrong,
It is regrettable to say
Only a horse could feel this way.
Putin is a manipulator,
A narcissist and a dictator.
Putin was on the run
Being President was no longer fun.
On a golf course far away,
Where Donal Trump and cronies play,
Mr Trump thought he played golf the best
But was never put to the test,
Because the Don was drunk with Power
All his fickle friends would cower,
They all bowed down to him
This situation proved to be grim,
He and golfers all gossip a lot,
About private matters that they should not.
Wouldn't it be fun,
Some peace at last for everyone,
If Trump was playing on the course,
And Putin passed by on his horse
Shouting out to his buddy,
Donnie, come away with me.
As things for Trump were getting hot,
And some thought he had lost the plot
It looked like a good idea
For Trump to run away from here.
So without further ado,
No goodbye or toodle-oo
Putin, with an almighty tug
Heaved Trump the big fat lug
On to his faithful horse
And without a whiff of remorse
The two rode away
And have never been seen since that glorious day!
Categories:
cronies, 10th grade,
Form:
Rhyme