Best Deadbeats Poems
Give us the quick fix
The easy way out
A heady dose of
Instant gratification
And we'll forget about
The intellectual annihilation
Of sixty second news
On BBC Three
Then prime-time karaoke
From deadbeats on ITV
The homeless are forced to beg on the streets:
their shame cuts deeper than the eye can see.
So, before you label them deadbeats:
ask yourself, what if that beggar was me?
But for the grace of God, that could be you,
relying on compassion and pity.
Stop and consider what they're going through,
panhandling in the dregs of the city.
You cannot picture yourself in their shoes:
you've never stepped outside your comfort zone.
And muttering, you'll just spend it on booze:
you fling barbed words that degrade with their tone.
Charity is a noble endeavor
that depends upon the kindness you give.
And good or bad, Karma flows forever;
fueled by how you have chosen to live.
Imagine how wonderful it would feel
if a stranger decided to help you.
Would you not want Angels to be real,
though Angels amongst us are rare and few?
She always thought she was a cut above others
The most beautiful, the richest , the best
A self confidence unbearably arrogant and explosive
When with her, peoples patience were put to the test
Outer beauty, plastic enhancements, riches is all that mattered
She was insincere, rude and vain
Never gave or did for another
In her eyes other women were unattractive and plain
Committed to a lunch work meeting
At a restaurant by the sea
It was a beautiful sunny day
Being with work plebs is not where she wanted to be
Glammed up to the eyeballs
She reluctantly arrived
Disgusted at having to be even near the plebs
She went to have a cigarette outside
She could see the plebs through the window
Looking at them down her perfect nose
Hoping to be rid of these deadbeats soon
In their embarrassing low budget clothes
Her negative ,superior body language was obvious
As she stood outside full of false pride
When several seagulls flew above her and let rip
Raucous laughter heard from the plebs inside
Hey buddy,
can you help a brother down on his luck?
Hey kind sir,
can you help a fella get propped back up?
I’m just a slightly dishonest publican,
who was sticking it to tax evading citizens
Unpatriotic deadbeats who weren’t paying enough
But, that mean ole relative of mine
cast me down
Uncle Sam caught me skimming a bit
Yes, I will admit ...
I did get a tad greedy
and took a little double taste,
got an extra slice
But, I’m not like that uncle of mine!
He put all the money meat on his collection plate,
and ate the whole tax pie
Then, he had the nerve
to throw me out of my cushy seat
into the street
That mean ole man made me homeless,
and have to beg to eat
I was just a small-time, low-level government thief,
Small publican potatoes really
Uncle Sam Maritan, he’s kingpin
Ain’t no money cake being made,
and he’s not getting his cut of the frosting
My adopted blood shamed me publicly,
said he don’t like crooks that get caught
Told me I woulda been solid with him,
if my scheme had been secretly pulled off
But, when it got the spotlight shine,
Uncle Sam disowned me ...
said he wasn’t no kin of mine
So, hey buddy,
you now know my usury half of the story
Can you find it in your pockets
to help a poor grifter
whose been catching a whole lot of bad luck?
I promise to pay it all back to you later,
once I get my hands on another million bucks ...
with interest, of course
LOSERS
If there’s something I can’t stand it’s all the losers around -
And man, there’s a ship-load of ‘em out there, having a ball.
Amazing how the world gets by when so many surround
Us as useless passengers. Not really pulling their weight at all.
You see them every day, the deadbeats, the nothings,
Playing the empty-headed drifter roles,
Who really should and could get busy doing something -
If they had more gumption in their souls.
I dunno, they just make me feel so mad and kinda uneasy
Because they seem to have no feel for the real nitty-gritty,
Lurching from one smutty moment to another, maybe more sleazy -
Like autumn butterflies, but not nearly so pretty.
Need their wings clipped, and a serious job of work to do,
Settle down and straighten their lives out, see?
They make me uncomfortable. . . . probably. . . maybe it’s true. . . .
Because they remind me - of me.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . .
Entered in John Freeman's Contest - Give Me Your Best Shot!!!!!!
I'm not Deranged just Derailed,
Deraptured with the Devolution of Angels,
The Devilization of a Nation,
Decorum Demands that I Devalue individualism,
Some Decadent, Dilenquent, Despot shouts
"Our hair must be black!"
"Our hair must be pink!"
Displaying our inner inability, denial to think, for ourselves,
And this juvenile notion,
Will take a while floatin,
While we stand smile gloatin,
With a clan of vile showthings,
Definately stupid,
Definately wrong,
Definately Deafening with our Different songs,
Decensored & Desensitized,
In a De-axised world normality is now abnormal.
We Delve Deep into Different ways to Display our Desperate Demonstrations of self,
A country of Deadbeats with credit card debt to nike,
A thousand like you,
A thousand like me,
Wave goodbye to individuality,
In matching gloves.
Surely we see?
This rebellious Unity?
Unlikely.
If we're all SO different,
We're all the same,
Any other interpretation would be insane,
A United Unhindered generation of Undertakers,
Caring for rebellions now defunct,
Just wearing a mohawk does not make one a punk,
Find your own voice,
One that's unforced,
One that's your choice,
One that's your course,
Unfullfilled with an Unfullfilling Universe we Unwittingly Unite in Uniform,
Untying one set of bonds to Undertake another,
Only now pledging Undying allegiance to Unwritten social rulings,
Seclusion is the only Untainted place where one can Understand, Uninfluenced self,
Under supervision only Unlife and Unself exist.
Bright Pink sheep.
Alas, we've elected bozos on both sides to again guide the nation!
(Some folks are sobbing in their ale, others are filled with jubilation!)
To rid this great nation of such knaves, here is what I would propose:
Elect retired noncoms who are well qualified to lead, heaven knows!
Noncoms are known for their integrity and by the way, lead from the front!
They don't take shhhtuff from anyone and are known to be rather blunt!
There should be a crusty Master Chief to head the Navy overseeing the fleet,
And a Marine Gunny Sergeant should occupy every congressional seat!
A Staff Sergeant who's been in the trenches should be the Secretary of Defense.
Chief Master Sergeants qualify for the oval office (Obama, take no offense!)
Sergeants First Class would eminently qualify for the Secretary of Labor.
They'd put deadbeats to work so as not to mooch off their neighbor!
There's a horde of Navy Petty Officers who'd qualify for Treasury Secretary,
Who've faithfully paid their taxes unlike some Yale czars to the contrary!
There's a brigade of Sergeants Major who'd excel as the Secretary of State,
Who'd tell other nations where to go if they didn't deal with us straight!
Master and Technical Sergeants are well qualified to occupy a governor's chair.
Their prime concern is the welfare of folks, not just building castles in the air!
Retired Noncoms are a special breed who believe in and uphold the Constitution!
Patriots who'd oust the current clowns, some of whom qualify for a mental institution!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I know a deadbeat dad named John ,
who knew he had a daughter from the
time she was born, everywhere we were
he tried to have a relationship with her .
Finally that day came he gave her a call .
He did nothing but blame ,not getting to
see her but,she knew the truth . She let
him know he was wrong as he denied being
her dad all this time now that she was grown .
Oh, how he made me mad as she began to cry,
saying we were never together at anytime.
After twenty-six years only me to get to raise her so ,
You're a deadbeat dad I raised her alone no help from you .
So many more deadbeats out there just like you
a Deadbeat Dad Named John.
Creative writing is for those
who like to make us ponder,
their meanings can be hidden,
cause our feeble minds to wonder,
esoteric pieces puzzle,
leave us with uneasy feelings,
better that we entertain
and trash the doubts and double dealings.
Humor is the best medicine,
limericks are sure to please,
especially when we're mired and stuck,
and need to set our minds at ease.
I have written words... O jeez!
just cast your eyes on my 'Ennui,'
a twentieth century group of deadbeats,
not soulful creatures just like you and me!
So I will try from hereon out
to enrich this happy place,
indulge my failing sense of humor
fill you up with style and grace.
Are belly laughs permissible?
you bet, the more the merrier,
I will test your funny bone,
so you'd better WATCH THIS SPACE!
A rock and a hard place between,
It seemed a limited choice,
But a burning bush he had seen
And lo it was he found his voice.
And though unpopular indeed
With constituents one and all;
Courage enough to take the lead
And for what's right he'd take the fall.
For children dying on the streets,
No longer as a hostage held;
Party politics with the deadbeats,
The lies alas must be dispelled.
For rights of others, yours and mine
To walk in safety come what may;
Never more to tow the line,
He's standing up to the NRA.
A hero of the people yes,
In a filibuster what suspense;
This Republican who god bless
Has finally shown some common sense.
School is over and we're on top of the world,
Our futures ready to be unfurled,
Who knows where we'll be in twenty years;
Married and with successful careers?
Or deadbeats living on each other's floors,
There's just so many open doors!
But as one thing starts, another ends;
For fourteen years we've been best friends,
One summer more and we'll be dispersed,
But we're going to make some memories first,
These times will end before we know it,
So let's not waste a single minute!
I'm loving the rollercoaster ride,
As every day is spent outside,
And though it's sadly undeniable
That we are spontaneous and unreliable,
It only adds to the teenage thrill,
As all our wishes we rush to fulfill,
Staying out most every night,
Then dancing home at morning light,
Sleeping in most every day,
Sending waking hours into disarray,
Delighted smiles in impulsive filming,
Pure happiness captured as bonds are building,
And yet it's scary and sort of strange,
Not knowing how things are going to change,
But one thing's certain as round our necks
Our cherished friendship pendants rest,
As the dawn of a new era arrives,
We know we'll be friends for all our lives.
The architects of cardboard town, will never shoulder blame.
From brick and stone built luxury, they sit immune to shame.
Whilst on forgotten streets the homeless, dwell in paper waste
Constructing prefab mobile homes, before each cold night breaks.
In handmedowns and odd paired shoes, they shuffle in our streets,
invisible, anonymous, a Legion of deadbeats.
Tramps and Bums, the great unwashed, the epithets we use,
Casting blasé aspersions, we carelessly abuse.
We close our eyes and turn our heads, reciting ‘it’s God’s will,
we don’t know them, they don’t know us,’ thus avoiding bitter pill.
Just Stop, reflect, one minute, as you avoid their eyes,
Remember, but for God’s good grace, that there goes you or I.
A thousand different stories lie, beneath those cardboard roofs,
A million different reasons why, but all state one sad truth.
The corpulence of greedy men, with callous aforethought,
has generated homelessness, our indifference cheaply bought.
A kindly word, a helping hand, each Christian act you make,
to a broken, lost and lonely soul could all the difference make.
Instead of standing idly by, and sighing at the sights
Why not take to task MPs, and make them put this right.
These victims of our system, have slipped between the cracks,
The engine of good government, must get back on the tracks.
Put this right, remove this blight, that puts us all to shame.
Accept the fact, that all of us, share equally the blame.
Creative writing is for those
who like to make us ponder,
their meanings can be hidden,
cause our feeble minds to wonder,
esoteric pieces puzzle,
leave us with uneasy feelings,
better that we entertain
and trash the doubts and double dealings.
Humor is the best medicine,
limericks are sure to please,
especially when we're mired and stuck,
and need to set our minds at ease.
I have written words... O jeez!
just cast your eyes upon my 'Ennui,'
a twentieth century group of deadbeats,
not soulful creatures just like you and me!
So I will try from hereon out
to enrich this happy place,
indulge my failing sense of humor
fill you up with style and grace.
Are belly laughs permissible?
you bet, the more the merrier,
I will test your funny bone,
so you'd better WATCH THIS SPACE!
Looking at people
Looking Straight Up
Up to no good
Up to something
Something is awry.
Something is wrong
Wrong if I stand up
wrong if I speak out
Abusers are sitting.
Abusers are seated
Seated in the Senate
Seated in Congress
Congress don’t speak out
Congress won’t speak up
Upward I look, get
Up out those seats
Seats of deadbeats
Seats of sin sitters.
Sitters of children
Sitters on children
Children of prey
Children pray
Pray for Morals
Pray for the immoral
Immoral decayed senate
Immoral invisible nation
Nation of blind fools
Nation of daft followers
Followers are blind.
Follow Blindly, yet unkindly
Unkind to teens
Unkind old farts
Farts of stench
Farts on the bench
Bench needs strength
Bench of stench
Stench stinking
Stench leaking
Stinking’ thinking
Stinking lairs
Lairs lie in beds of lies
Liars on fire
Fire burns liars
Fire in family beds
Beds kept secret
Beds Kept unkept
Secret beds kept
Secret best kept
Go to Jail
Go for bail
Pay Dues
Pay your victims
Truth…
Owed…
Discect the cetacean on the table
Intercept the axon if you are able
Detect the carcass beneath the table
Protect the deadbeats, as they are unable.
Seven Senators Stood Singing (p)salms!
Shrimp stuffed pie crust often alarms!
consideration only harms!
Boris Yeltzin with upraised Arms!