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Best Dirt Cheap Poems | Poetry

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The Best Dirt Cheap Poems

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Children of Entitlement

They won't let us have
the same things ...
things that once was given to them
They say we deserve it not,
because we're of the rejected seed ---
those who drew the accursed lot
They know who they be,
them who speak ever so conservatively
Within their hearts they believe
the children of slaves ain't entitled to anything
Oh woe, woe to them
How hollow their words of hypocrisy ring
Conservative thought dominates,
primarily in the western United States
They espouse less federal government intervention,
to stop giving out those free government handouts
To them, entitlements are a costly waste ...
keeping the nation in perpetual debt
But oh how so easily
their own history they selectively forget
Here is a reminder of the past,
annotated as a historical fact
All those millions of white folk who got the cheap land
under the 1862 Homestead Act
Federal land sold so cheap,
it was practically given away free
Thus it was called: the Free Soil policy
Homestead legislation was introduced to Congress
twelve years prior in 1850
It politicked under a righteous veneer
of stopping the spread of slavery
into any territory west of the Mississippi
Those newly formed western states
ate a-plenty from the federal welfare plate
Four generations ago,
the ancestors of conservatives didn't mind
the federal government helping them out more
They didn't mind some federal intervention then
They didn't mind the government giving them
some land that still belonged to the Indians
And through the subsequent years,
the federal government built up their land with public investment ...
taxpayer money that is
Back then, there wasn't no cry of regret
about the country falling deeper in debt
The federal government built the houses, roads,
irrigation channels and huge dams to vitalize the land
Wasn't nothing wrong with being entitled to that
They wanted the federal purse opened wide
when they had their hand holding out the hat
More federal government was good back then,
getting free help from the government was considered a godsend
Over a hundred years of federal government entitlement,
you can eat a lot of free lunches with that welfare homestead plan
The great grands of conservatives
got the free house and the dirt cheap land
Seems to me, they did most of the begging
But listen nowadays to the conservatives say:
less federal government should be the prevailing doctrine
Oh how those children of entitlement
don't acknowledge how good to them federal welfare has been
The homestead children of hypocrisy say
that children of slaves ain't entitled to such
The conservative children of entitlement say
that we've already been given too much

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017

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It's A Curse To Own A Hearse

Instead of being a chick magnet, my vehicle is a curse.
No woman will go out with me because I own a hearse.
I bought my hearse because it runs great and it was dirt cheap.
But when women see it, they slap my face and call me a creep.
I finally got a date with the woman of my dreams.
But when she saw my hearse, she ran and screamed.
Women don't want to make out where corpses have been.
Because of my vehicle, they won't date me, they find other men.
If you already have a bad love life, making my mistake will only make it worse.
Women will not date a man if he drives a hearse.  

(I got the idea for this poem from a TV show that I saw.)

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2016

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Junk Sale

I'm thinning out some things of mine
I do not want or need
Some for sale  some for trade 
Most of it is free
My poisonous relationships
They gave  me fits and rashes
All the bridges that I burned
Well, there's the can of ashes
Wishes are a dime a dozen
Believe me there are plenty
You can have my broken dreams
And thoughts are just a penny
This box of nickels is dirt cheap
They're all made of wood
A pack of lies that I bought
Some are pretty good
There used to be some happiness
It seems to be misplaced
I lost some time that I was given
But most just went to waste
These mirrors with smoke, a pig in a poke
A hook, line, and sinker
All came free with my insurance
From unscrupulous hood-winkers
My policy is "No returns"
I hope you'll understand
If you're like me then you'll agree
This junk's still in demand  

national poetry competition entry under my pen name "poemdog"

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016

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That Haunted House

I bought a house that nobody else wanted.
I got it dirt cheap because it was haunted.
It was once owned by a murderess and nobody could trust her.
Things got so bad in that house that I called the Ghostbusters.
But those four women came running out of that house as fast as they could.
I thought that hiring those women was a great idea but it didn't do any good.
Everybody who lived in that house ended up in a bad shape.
The last straw came when the ghost cornered me and I was raped.
I burned down that house for the insurance because things were so creepy and odd.
But the insurance company found out and now I've been sentenced to prison for fraud.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2018

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How I Got Richer And What I Did Next

How I Got Richer and What I Did Next

I struck a sly deal with some Wall Street investors.
I shorted 'em stocks that didn't exist!
But they got me back (those post-empty-nesters)
by making fake deals I couldn't resist.

So I made a bold plan. I'd get big and still bigger.
My dream was immense: I'd conquer the market!
How would I do it? I'll bet you can't fig'ure.
I'll whisper my plan. (Shhh! I won't bark it.)

What I make is no secret. My dream is the thing.
My stuff the world uses. It can't do without.
My competitors fear (while secretly hoping)
I'll become a cartel and buy them all out!

So here's what I make (a simple thing really).
You use it at dinner, at breakfast and lunch,
when it's hot and it's steamy or cold and it's chilly.
Donuts to dollars you must have a hunch.

It fixes most things, an all-purpose tool.
It will open a can, pull the cork from a bottle,
even fix all your plumbing (now isn't that cool?).
Under the hood it'll fix your car's throttle.

I know that you're anxious. I know you can't wait.
I'm making the point. Sit still and don't fidget!
Now no more pondering and staying up late:
I make what you use: the Gadget and Widget!

Making millions and billions takes plenty of people.
My company grew, got huge and kept growing.
A company needs growth. A church needs a steeple.
You see how it works? I just kept on going.

I hired by hundreds and thousands and more.
I worked 'em like slaves, paid dimes even less.
They threatened to strike, even steal the store
but I had the power! I could hardly care less.

I'd fire 'em in masses, by hundreds and dozens.
I gave them no notice, I paid them no pension.
I fired them all, brothers sisters and cousins.
I paid off the media; they gave me no mention.

But shedding the people only solved half the puzzle.
I still needed gadgets! Work had to get done.
Just how could I do it? I put hands on my muzzle.
No output, no profit. So how could I run?

At midnight one day I awoke with a start
My plan was so clear, so cool and so cunning.
I'd go overseas! My plan was quite smart.
I knew with assurance I'd keep right on running.

I worked day and night 'til after sunset.
I worked without stop. I even skipped meals.
I outsourced production and then flew by jet
to scour the globe for even more deals.

Gov'nments with greed – those were our game.
Why, you might ask, do business with these?
The answer is simple: except for the name
they've two things in common: the gov'ment takes fees

And labor's dirt cheap (it costs odds and ends).
The less I pay out the more left for me!
It works like a scale: when their side descends
my side goes up. It's logic, you see.

My scheme soon paid off. I spanned the whole globe.
I owned my competitors by tens and by scores.
To find where I wasn't you'd dig and you'd probe:
just gadgets and widgets in millions of stores!

A few years of this 'bout did me in.
I crawled to my bed and I slept a deep sleep.
I dreamed a strange dream of goodness and sin.
I chatted with God about what I could keep.

He said in the end it was all up to me
but my state of affairs just didn't look good.
Pearly Gates entry he couldn't quite see.
Suddenly in front of St. Peter I stood.

We discussed and we bargained, tried to see eye to eye.
Well most of that's true. He discussed and I bargained.
(I knew I would lose but I still had to try.
I thought that maybe he could just be out-jargoned!)

But this wasn't happening! It was just a dream.
No need to worry. My life wouldn't change.
(Dreams being dreams things aren't what they seem.
Abandon my business? I couldn't. Too strange.)

St. Peter spoke more. He had some suggestions.
“Do something useful. Help orphans and widows.
People have needs. Look ' round. Ask some questions.
And ask your friend Sid. I'm sure that Sid knows.

And oh by the way, those countries you mention?
At least say you're sorry. It surely can't hurt.
Don't make a big show. Avoid causing tension.
Just say it with meaning. Try not to be curt.”

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, then blinked a bit more.
I stretched and remembered I had to call Sid!
Now what was his number? I had it before.
Just have to remember where I had it hid.

I looked in my book. No Sid in there.
I started to wonder: did I even know Sid?
Did I sleep? Am I up? I'll pull out a hair.
Ouch! I'm awake! So I never did!

I recalled Pearly Gates. I remembered a dream
and trying to bargain at the Gates with St. Pete.
That stayed in my head (strange it may seem).
We'd discussed and debated.  St. Pete's hard to beat!)

I'll allow he's a point. I won't pick a nit.
I've mostly been right (just a little bit wrong).
Ok, ok maybe more than a bit.
If I set things to rights, we could get along.

But St. Pete asks a lot. (This really does sting.)
If stuff needs some doing ... I might maybe could.
Now give me a moment to ponder this thing.
If I knew what to do, I'm sure that I would.

(He went to his office. He sat and he thought.
He called for his staff. But they'd left, the whole bunch.
So he made a few plans with ideas he'd caught
then got so excited he even missed lunch!

All the people he'd fired? He hired them back.
He said he was sorry. He tripled their pay.
He asked them their names. He said, “Call me Mack!”.
The sun rose much brighter the very next day.

He did all he promised, or so we are told.
He did what he said. He even did more!
He began to think friendships were worth more than gold.
He laughed right out loud – hadn't done that before!

He perked up his ears, St. Peter did.
When he heard that guffaw, that belly-roll laugh.
His laughter was joyous, like it came from a kid
St. Peter stood up, took hold of this staff.

I think he's found what he used to lack.
He's learned the difference twixt evil and sin.
When he gets here one day I'll shake his hand, pat his back.
I'll open the Gates and welcome him in.

Copyright © John Mudge | Year Posted 2016

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The Living Dead

Take away the safety net
What remains 
only the weak kill and call themselves men 
A coward hides in the mountain of who they are 
behind their own curse justifying wrongs 
Tears falling each and every single day 
suffering innocence weep 

Self inflicted forged inside darkness 
Mortal sin 
The day will arrive 
when you have to come out of your shell facing reality
Evil deeds done dirt cheap begging soul forgiveness 
Blinding pure is the eyes of our Saviour 

Salvation enslaved by guilt 
poor is the heart where poison seeps 
Rich forgiving pride the Lords prayer I say 
Please God open their eyes to your peaceful presence 
Make them aware of your goodness morally within 

Open their souls to the truth 
such deeds hold an ugly sin
Mercy on your damned soul 
Such actions 
destiny crumbles 
inside their castle walls bleed burning with fire 
Angry all their lives at everyone but themselves 

Articles of faith strips them bare 
I tip my eyes to the Lord 
Blessing myself in the name of our Father the Holy trinity 
Begging their forgiveness 
One third of Man 
blind faceless spill blood 
cursing peace and His Holiness in the end days

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

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The Bailout Ballad - The Layman's Lament

One day not long past our economy faltered
And wouldn’t improve if our course were unaltered.

'Cause we buy stuff at Wal-Mart (where things are dirt cheap)
'Cause they buy from China (treats workers like sheep

(So farmers left farms and moved to the city.
And hoped for life better (no luck, such a pity) )).

They went right to work (but folks who had power
got 'em to work for six bits an hour).

To make matters worse our credit froze up.
Couldn't spend - couldn't borrow - couldn't buy a tin cup.

You think this is bad?  It's downhill from there.
Institutions cried "uncle" - said cupboards were bare.

Couldn't borrow, couldn't lend, no business as usual.
So they opened their books to wide-eyed perusal.

Our Treasury Secretary called Congress to action.
Said money was needed to unfreeze this impaction.

So they gave loads of money to our secretary mighty
Who they said was quite stern and not the least flighty.

He'd disburse the funds wisely with skill and great cunning.
He'd soon save us all with our economy running

Full tilt dead ahead.  We'd all have great jobs.
Or funds to build business.  No more wailing.  No sobs.

But he hadn’t a plan, no clue what to
Gasp!  I’m shocked!  I’m surprised!  Weren’t you?

"The problem's bad assets.  I know what to do.
Throw billions to the wind to buy them from you!

It's a crisis, a panic, no time to lose!
So give me 300 billion dollars to use!"

Congress quick cut a check - didn’t ask any questions.
Full speed ahead - damn the objections!

Then five minutes later, he said.  "Sorry, my bad.
Sky's ok after all.  Billions gone.  So sad."

Next thing you know ’nother check's in the mail.
Now they thought lenders were too big to fail

So they gave them our billions and tried to act manly:
While sheepishly mincingly bailing out Morgan Stanley!

Money still wasn’t flowing so they tried a new tack.
Gave money to banks they needn’t pay back!

And what of the money they’d gotten for free?
They’d loan me the money they’d gotten from me!

The banks got a downpour but oh life is fickle.
While they bathe in money – for me?  Not a trickle.

Then came execs who'd wrecked A-I-G
They wept and they pleaded and cried, "Please save meeee!"

Fannie Mae queued up next just before Freddie Mac
Who lent money to people who couldn't pay back.

Congress gasped (so we'd notice) and then cried "Enough!"
To make it look good they called Lehman a bluff:

Sacrificially beheaded poor Lehman Brothers.
They gave them no money (unlike all the others)

But kept spending funds like water that's runny
With glee and abandon, disposition so sunny.

Through Fingers of Congress funds flowed like warm honey.
'Round town it got spent like Monopoly money.

"A billion here and a billion there and soon it's real money!"
I laughed once before but now it's not funny.

I’m sure I would spend it way better then you.
A deaf ear I'd turn to pleas of "me too".

I can't hear the cries the wails the shouts
The So Helpless pleadinghim beseeching handouts

And we're still on the hook for money by tons,
A stack past the moon if you use only ones!

How much do we owe?  Lean close and I'll tell you.
It’s the biggest darn number that ever befell you.

It's 3.5x10 to the twelf – 
A number so huge I can't count it myself.

So I worked with my neighbors and friends that I knew.
We'd just about finished when it quivered and grew.

We bravely pressed on but got worried because
It grew to a monster ten times what it was.

It far, far exceeds all the debt on my house.
Makes my debt seem much smaller than a flea on a mouse.

So here's what I owe, scientifically noted.
(No interest – it's merely the loan the bank floated)

It's 1.2x10 to the fifth.
If you say it's a trifle I'll really be miffed!

To me it's a fortune, a mountain, a gob.
It's enormous, it's huge –  a train-wreck-size glob.

But to you with your trillions it barely rates mention
A blip even smaller than my crummy old pension.

I'll make a comparison to give some perspective.
Divide smaller by bigger – a percent’s the objective.

The quotient is less than the least you might fine us:
Just 3.4x10 to the eighth minus!

That's 3.4 millionths expressed as percent
If you lost that amount would you care where it went?

If it fell from the table it wouldn't be missed.
Only know it was gone if you looked at your list.

Compared to the bailout and financial-type terror
My mortgage amounts to a small rounding error.

The amount is so small, a grain you can't see.
How much could hurt if it came back to me?

But accountants all say it would just cause inflation.
They say if I had it I could harm our whole nation!

Imagine that.  Me!  Oh the power I've got!
So just you tell me: should I use it?  Or not?

The problems roll on and Congress still spends.
Ford, G-MAC, and  Chrysler - the list never ends.

I want to flee far away when I consider this bailout.
Catch the next boat, settle in, and just sail out.

I’d find me a country where companies are smarter
And don't need my help like a belt needs a garter.

Whoops, I forgot.  It spans the whole world.
It catches each breeze like a sail unfurled.

So I fret and I grimace - it’s now up to trillions.
How long can it be ’til they’re spending quadrillions?!

Copyright © John Mudge | Year Posted 2016

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Alpha Bet Cap Cha

Alpha Bet Cap Cha

Just twenty six letters of the english language to whit
twisted in various & sundry combinations pit
this bull dog of a canonical wordsmith with true grit
to craft bone a fide filigreed grammatical parts of speech fit
together against their verbose will
   akin to arranged marriage or prominent zit
upon smooth complexioned face
   best lanced with strong arm and first aid kit
lest said unsightly blemish rent asunder
   and erupt like mount vesusius lava
   that appeared never to quit
until plugged by humungous corkerasp*- 
   made by one anthropocentric brit
seeking to escape from the madding crowd
   and return of native sun within his hermitage
   where rays of warmth could barely viz it.
Lemme explain the essence of a corkerasp!

whenever constipation a pain in the ***
just maneuver this lightweight metal contrivance made of brass
no matter if anybody considers this action crass

apply corkscrew motion up the alimentary canal to remove waste
which most likely will be thick like petrified paste
stuck deep inside bowels of sphincter muscles and solidly encased

causing severe cramps within lower gastrointestinal tract
inducing one to wince nonstop from being fecal matter packed
and no amount of primal groaning doth loose this hard fact

nor does imagery of freed turd
   ease **** plight, no laughing matter despite how absurd
   squeezing does nothing even applying all inner might

thus necessary to incorporate un-natural intervention to un-clog
rectal blockage + uncomfortable bloating swelling anus the size of a hog
disabling bare derriere ease to stand let alone jog
yet tis essential per extricating what feels like one swallowed a log
which could  presage demise of sufferer, whereby epitaph 
   twill induce impossible eulogy 
   spoken in the language where tongues wag in prague

every ounce of effort required to bend
over gingerly affixing plunger end of device to business of rear end
best accompanied with close companion or friend
this dirty deed done dirt cheap trick will ideally rend
rock solid excrement to roll and crash 
   (on par traversing highway to hell) sound send

upon bathroom floor
possibly inducing seismic waves less or more
whereby toilet bowl water will pour
over the sides akin to white caps near sea shore
without doubt making gluteus maximums extremely sore!

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2016

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Dirty Deeds

Back to his dirty deeds
Having them done dirt cheap
Can't do his own dirty work
Because he's nothing but a creep
Doesn't care who he hurts
Even if he rips people's heart
Should have known it 
Right from the start
Lies, hurts, and harms people 
And so much more
Because he is so rotten 
To the core
Doesn't do anything wrong,  he claims
Dark side of him, people know
Yet, he feels no shame
He can take his dirty deeds
Shove them up his ***
For people's hearts he made bleed


Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap by AC/DC

Copyright © Country Girl48 | Year Posted 2014

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Presidential Inauguration 2017 - Poetic Screed - Part3

   pioneer esprit de corps front tier brisk.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
Open arms and clenched raised fists raise 
masquerade diametrically opposed to rodomontade sways
spewing threatening sacred constitution 
   expounding vaunted values déclassé 1968 degreed phase
Wharton alumni now on warpath to raze 
via his bull dozing wreaks havoc on coven daze
ruining complex edifice 
   usurped storied super power craze
thru humiliation, liquidation of dredging bays
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *         
and justification (viewed thru his warped vision) 
scotching inalienable rights reducing to rubble bedrock division
with remainder of flinty stones, 
   and unlovely bones a wasteland fission
absent without a trace any evidence of Halcyon days, 
   which abomination, decimation, and gangrenous lesion
joie de vivre, when martial law decree deep incision 
heil come rolled up (frightfully with egregious decision.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
the venomous, tenebrous, and rancorous white house 
Head honcho viz prez) inside checkered hookahs lighting 
one end per slow burn as hoary smoke emanates 
   in shape of Taj Mahal, then harmless as Mickey mouse 
he iz well singed, seared, and scalded like a cook grouse
(yet of course still alive) sent to further douse
him into initiation righting tis basic human coup laid louse.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
Acid test whereby he will be sold to Vladimir Putin for bunk
her hilled feather bedding rubles on the dollar, where clunk
key interim held up by cadre of well comb pence dunk
key Kong sated marionettes, which will carry fleshy lunk  
dirty deeds done dirt cheap of this unmentionable monk
key villainous uber trumpeter, scabrous, recalcitrant querulous punk!
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *            
keep your finger and toes crossed for the next four years
aware that such laughable ruse and superstitious scares
not one impish bot of fate, but more so gives false cheers.

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2017

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Country Sweet Soul

Country Sweet Soul
By Curtis Lee Johnson 

Began in a country town right next to a corn mill 
Raised in the Mississippi delta near the cotton field 

 Born in a four room house made of concrete blocks
Grew up on a large plantation next door to a tractor shop
Worked hard in the fields all day, tending the cotton crops                              Dirt cheap labor, five and a half days a week, unless the rains said stop 

Always clothed with plenty to eat, but no AC or central heat 
My home town had cars, tractors, and trucks, but no stop lights 
A place where everybody knew what was wrong and what was right
But not perfect, because occasionally some got drunk and wanted to fight

It was hot under the southern sun, but we had some fun 
Dixie summer days felt like ovens, and nights were toasty too 
In Winter seasons, mama always gave us medicine to fight off the flu 

We always had heat from gas, wood, and coal 
Winters were cold, especially as the nights grew old 
Daddy worked hard, and mama had the sweetest of souls

When cotton fields turned white, everything was right
We were certainly poor, but nothing we couldn't endure
Mama made all the difference when the days were doubtful
And we forgot about yesterday, because tomorrow was assured

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015

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We as a world separating wheat from the chaff

Where one grain of sand can become a castle 
crumbing it has lost all compass bearing truth 
loosing all sense of living reality twisted under moral direction
pretending to care with uneducated values 
calling insanely on the death sentence heresy 
chanting for thee blood of the innocent 
this begins an old ancient curse born

Babylon giving birth to this new generation 
wicked deeds come dirt cheap 
Those loveless souls condemning glorify in such acts 
preformed in an open aired circus this hostile arena 
deformed against another body bleeding outwardly 
sacred inwardly cold grave justice seems to fall 
into a silent pact these short witted guests 
they forget to evict this wrongdoing inside buried words 
which has accepted killing as some God given rule

Basic rights have been deformed incorrectly false 
by state bullied policies written into law against the Bible 
their agendas which are purely evil driven post war
symptoms controlled by greed and hate 
removing our protection by heathen stealth none the less 
corrupted liars slowly reveal this awful deceit underhanded 
Your veil has been removed for all to see beggars choice 
an ugly masked dictator shows true face

A great fraud has befallen loving virtues 
held captive chained by ill will towards another 
peace will never hold those whom murder 
without the faintest love there is no mercy 
to fall back onto His charity 
forgiveness always has a welcoming light 
to embrace knowing what is right and wrong 
digs straight to the heart of a problem 
where backwards peddling humanity begins ignorance 
To not see history of the devalued slave masters at play 
the future has become dark and bleak
even a sheep will sacrifice itself willingly

To protect its young from harm and danger 
the wolfs are a blood thirsty lot kill kill kill 
survival now is escaping the beasts of prey 
upon us whom give the silent angel's their rightful scream 
unto heaven for justice sake alone they have wings 
and stand to judge such hate without doubt rules 
towards another soul existing in the first place hits hard 

To begin with it is a violent state affair emerging 
out of order oversteps the mark crossing the line 
drawn in the sands of time recorded evidence 
in histories files pagan slaughter houses 
all over the world they open for sacrifice 
filled with serial killers claiming to be a doctors remedy 
voodoo medicine drinks from the blood of suffering injustice

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2018

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The pleasure of sleep

upon waking from a splendid plunge 
   into the depths of deep dreamy restful sleep
anchors away set adrift this body electric, 
   which succombed instantaneously 
   (without counting sheep)
nor joining the make belive rank and file world 
   with the likes of little bo peep

an immediate notion arose 
   to latch onto and ignore 
   this most delightful, flight of fancy deed
(not dirty nor done dirt cheap), 
    but a natural function 
   one cannot overdose nor excede

the USDA quotidian requirement, 
   where cares and concerns 
   of an uncertain world freed
yet an asolute bare necessity for stayin' alive 
   plus richly textured unrivaled vista devoid of greed
additionally cost and gluten free, NON GMO, 
   zero caloric effortless need

   (words of caution to take seriously to heart), 
   and note that if one doth not yield, but sure to read
   the small print affixed like a label each mind
   forcing to squeeze out every metaphorical 
   drop of open eyed juice  
   perhaps resorting to meth or speed

   that silent slurred speech, physical lashing, 
   head dropping fatique 
   will invite Halloween aparitions, delusions, 
   grand hallucinations, et cetera 
   as if one smoked wacky weed

the forces of anatomical and physiological 
   heft will take charge ahoy
and blast at top notch nautical surge, 
will wrest control against blistering, 
   festering against withering heights
   delivering balms away at feeble attempts 
   to retain losing battle to remain alert oh boy
no matter how much effort summoned, 
   (even feigning wakefulness as a decoy)

the trappings of oblivion 
   i.e. sinking into profound dreamland, 
   whether an individual ascribes to be Jew or goy
which Maxwell House maxim 
   “the key to better relationships may be more sleep”
no mortal ought to take lightly, 
   but pay heed lest the grim reaper doth creep
stealthily and scythe lent lee steal 
   a haggard skiff of flesh and bone 
   whereat  corporeal essence no more 
   will there be for the soul to keep.


Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017

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1-800-Got Junk

What's the big deal with garage sales Buying another man's junk Just because the price is dirt cheap People wind up in a funk They blindly go from house to house Looking for that special treasure A wobbly beat up old coffee table A saddle of genuine leather Once bought an antique gramophone Sits downstairs gathering dust When I first laid eyes on this treasure To own it was an absolute must Now what's the sense of buying stuff That you'll never use for sure You won't see it again in your lifetime The logic's a bit obscure 1-800 Got Junk? You've seen the signs everywhere Don't get caught up in this buying frenzy You'll just leave it all to your heirs! © Jack Ellison 2012

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2012

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Divine Musings

In the most unusual manic-panic creep,
Wildly lurking behind every corner, 
The Shadow was about to recover some ungraspable but always constantly desired idea..

A fantasy, a darker shade of fantasy: a fun fetish.
Or, perhaps, could it be foolish fanciful notions? 
This fully torqued delusion can be a haunting mirage.  
A make believe vintage slogan ghost from generations past. 
That worn out American Dream. That Life. 

-Free from the routine confusion and disorder-
Dreamed by all but known only by creatures who dream of other more sophisticated things. 

Silenced but still flailing at grasping the point or any and all major traffic signs, 
the Shadow returned all the acquired mixed-matched pieces and useless information slowly.. 

I remember because it was a autumn night.
Leaves were falling and there were trees white with moonlight. 

It was a cool night overflowing with mysterious excitement that unforgettably changed the mellow quite in all bright lights.
Suddenly there was a new bustle among the stars as the speed of light left a stirring in the darkness. 

-A secret above trees carried on the wings of winds-

This covert paradox of milky way wonder experienced when he kissed this girl-was a vivid spectacle of unutterable visions never mentioned but still loudly exuding a slinky lust. 

This was a soul cleansing need, 
a physical miracle, 
dirty deeds done dirt cheap overdosing religious experience with every swelling ******!

These are the divine musings of the Creator, my Creator.
These are the ideas of any other brave soul who decide to capture their essence in moments. 

For a moment at one point in time, these sacred thoughts belonged to God.

Copyright © Stone Fox | Year Posted 2015

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a solider and a sailor
sing a lonesome song just for your entertainment
but in it you are betrayed by visions of heaven
shine with the late night ribald drinkers
after all after a few bottles even mortality seems lively
disjointedly you pick your way
through all these salvation's
never quite believing that you could exceed
your worth and standing
after all you can buy a new life for dirt cheap
long as your willing to give up your lifestyle
long as your willing to be disarmed
of all those quick witted answers you think fit so well
and give up all her peek-a-boo paradise's
the solider and sailor buy a round
and toasting the queen they bury the hatchet
no expectations can lead you on to the
brink of such strange bedfellows but you'll try
you can only hope not to be a victim of such defeatism
when all the ribald drinkers have left the saloon
walking in the thin light of dawn
you will remember all these beautiful things
and dream better dreams
build better sunrises from the gloom of days ending

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2015

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The truth stood downcast in the lie
 Its chin upon chest and hands tied
Shoulders drooped with a hunching back
Gagged, maimed barely able to sigh
Chained mercilessly in a  cell
The truth stood downcast in the lie
Prisoner of outrageous guile
Its wings clipped, unable to fly

Thieves were rulers, all saints were tried
Life was dirt cheap and  facts so dear
The truth stood downcast in the lie
Thorns bloomed across, flowers were rare

No groans were heard, its lips were sealed
A tearful soul lay crushed beneath
Weeping sore wounds too deep to dry
The truth stood downcast in the lie

Earlier submitted
Aug11, 2016
Name of contest
The truth stood downcast in the lie
Now submitting for contest265 any form any theme max 20 lines

Copyright © Sushma A. Singh | Year Posted 2016

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chocolate covered Barbie beans

lonely old mansion
walkie talkie doesn't work
doesn't matter anyway
nothing ever did
the art of saving a life
understanding that market
tickles you pink
when all you really wanted
was a chocolate covered barbie
the coffee bean flavored chocalate barbie

understanding the market all year round
golden eyes on the easter prize
buying pumpkins dirt cheap to sell them for a profit at halloween
pumpkin pie all year round...

whats your game?
coffee and barbies?
eggs and donuts
who cares about insider trading
sue me
are we that blind to see
the cycle of our holidays repeats and repeats

this is my hobbie
buying all your old ties like a grinch
selling them back to you five years later
for a huge up sale 
and you have no clue
how i am dirt rich sittin in a tiny pew

famous bibles worth more than you know
chocolate covered barbies
eggs and smarties
popcorn market salesman
anything to sell and trade
funny you cant do any of that on ebay
thanks to twitter
these war crimes are more of a paper goose chase maze
that i guess no one saw coming

i'll take your tickle me elmo
sell it for a dime more than i bought it
invest in cracker smacks
seal the deal
and drive away in my sportster before the world looks back
clues into 
uncovered tracks

its not voodoo
my tarot cartomancer
the world has cycles and we sell them to eachother
its not hard to predict the pattern now is it
this is your market
do you think if i gave you a calender you could stay ahead of the game?

maybe buy and sell and trade barbies on your cell phones
for the big pay off
one application for a friendly future
to end world hunger

Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson | Year Posted 2009

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World Cruise--Veranda Beach

World Cruise...Veranda Beach (Acrostic)

 Without a doubt this place is a perfect peach
 Overnight stay you don’t have to pay at Veranda Beach 
 Really dirt cheap my own keep and don’t have to leech
 Living like a King on my wee little wing what a reach
 Dining and reclining my private wine I do beseech

 Comfort of home under my dome I like the view
 Rules don’t apply as I eat on the fly and grab another brew
 Under the sun having fun greeting people as they pass thru
 Initial reaction I get my satisfaction with a skeleton crew
 Sand all around with uncut grass abound my dinner is due
 Enjoying the weather all huddled together with a bad hairdo.

World Cruise
Sponsored by: Kevin Shaw

Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2017

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Forward In The 60's

rd In The 60's
By Curtis Lee Johnson 

In the rural South, sometimes life was cruel 
Robbery from the poor was legal via dirt cheap labor

In the North, city life was fearful and dangerous
I was robbed at gunpoint one dark scary night                                                                               

I was often shocked and shaken, but never immobilized
We braved the cold and the danger zones in Chicago

But seldom were we tempted to be weak and cowardly 
We kept moving ahead, always thriving to push forward 

There are memories of riot fires and gun shots in the night 
But we stood boldly, strong, and tall, by sheer determination

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015

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Like Daisies On Stalks

Besotted winged pollinators
roistering barrage drowned
amidst general insectivorous cacophony
indistinct auditory signals communicated

intermingled with bounteous wafting fragrance
midwifed edenic floral pullulation
sensate admixture viz colored spectrum
amidst unrehearsed extemporaneous

orchestral suite bedded lambs
amorous ewe man like bleating songs
nature all aflutter actively socially vociferating
profuse living color rainbow pastiche

teeming soundgarden smorgasbord
cornucopia ignites mordent Utopian aural swath
visual vistas stilling spellbinding
spilling riotous carpeted web

uniting doubting Thomas's existentialism
despite unanswered queries
asper diverse modalities each specie evolved
to survive despite countervailing destructive forces

generating plethora pandemonium ironically
promulgating harmonic exemplary convergence
Highland Manor concourse aflame with new life
parented by instinctive imprimatur anonymous patents

now genetic mapping usurped with untold outcome
analysis bred crispr discovery Earthlings fiddling
glorifies honied indemnity Judeo-Christian kudos
leaves of grass kudzo resistance mutation immunizes

biosphere once prolific differentiation shrinks
becoming monocultural setting virtual stage
catastrophe plus food shortage would become
global debacle predicated, sans virulent

viral and/or bacterial strain renting asunder
tripwire unspooling delicate webbed whirl
already widely compromised more so
since Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring

*****sapiens population explosion
pits profligate predilections planet Earth in extremis
dire crisis cavalierly dismissed humans
in hot pursuit racking up superfluous wealth

dirty deeds done dirt cheap - tricking
mother nature, who will unwittingly
spring scrumptious feeding off scrimmage
forcing capitulation or total extinction

meanwhile fostering long tall floral inflorescence
a composite having sessile flowers
apiary abuzz, cuz queen bee
can no longer wax bereft of royal jelly.

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018

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Zebra Plastered on your Glue Right-Hand Knot

Zebra plastered on your glue right-hand knot
near the end sorry.
Painted girls tossed in the air
hiding spoken truth.
Guitars bleached their long
silk hair.

I played with civil war's eternity
dust and held your wings
in the air's trust.
Catching butterfly spots.
Rainbow cream pies.
Remorse hides behind
deep pain.
I hide behind lonely eyes.

Everything is pretty between
your painted purple cream
but the dirty laundry
fades and degrades our
freedom's insane frame.
Bombs ticking away on
the side of years.

Dust a model that paints
the sun and once the art
is done, dead inside
an antique bottle, 
we will all be like
your dead zebra broken
by the giraffe's dirty ear.

Silver through the nostrils
and we plucked out our
seed under the dirt, cheap
from the monkey paw.

A buried bone sticks through
born eyes and we believe
our giraffe ear has a bad
infection or a near reaction
to save God from taking our
We must not hide.
Bones will fly just like
lonely spirit's suicide
and nature kept
the glory, our key.

Copyright © Misty Lackey | Year Posted 2006

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Holy Cow, Oven Nation Gone Fowl two cluck

   they would dice many a chive
   by management me from da dive
apartments in hatfield in close proximity 
   to the bloody sorry fate 
   oof a von nee gutt 
   thar slaughter house five.

mine eyes saw gore 
   and remained fixated 
   orbital fixture 
   of poor creatures in a daze
sans reaction averting gaze 
   away from disgusting entrails 

   visible picture amidst the maze
of chutes and ladders 
   stepping on select 
   foursquare did raise
or lower (similar to an elevator) 
   but movable blocks 
   also went cross ways

oh, anyway, this reply 
   written by me - scott math u
passable poet tree - at most true
this email far ye to rue
these twisted sister strands 

   of pearl jammed zz topped
   chromosomal strands being did hew
who only to five feet and ten inches grew
crafts, finesses, 

   indulges love of language
   to prose from fingers flew
   and writes poems 
   cawing all r e'en juiced 
   one angry emu
leaving her/his presents
   custom made doo doo
per comprising a motley crue
of a family - pearl jammed color ague.

please rsvp asap via text
   to me scott matthews my chosen ac/dc label
   i.e. pleasure like rubbing against sable
create r hard woo n intimate scorpion fable
unless ja noah under me ma jib rush
   like inxs o ruck kiss in tower o babe bull
by texting if willing, ready, eager and able
froom - - scotts matthew 
   who lives way off the mainline -
   juiced about a few dirty dozen dancing deeds 
   done dirt cheap miles west of philadelphia,
   and some ten miles east of king o prussia
   pennsylvania who imagines your sultry skin
   silkily soft as a lynx, pussy cat
   rubbing against ma leg under da table.

Sent from my iPhone 456789

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018

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Dreary Mind

It's just another day to wake up to, uninspired. 
A lingering weight on my chest, undesired.
A tightness inside that can't find relief,
No motivation to turn a new leaf.

It's just one more morning where I'd rather sleep,
Where the price of fulfilling your dreams is dirt cheap.
Where the nightmares can end, and you wake when you're falling,
And for once you can let down the load you've been hauling.

I can't find reason to even move,
I'm lost in thoughts and you'd disapprove,
No satisfaction from what I am seeing, 
Uncomfortably numb, and not really being.

I can't find the music, I can't be conducted,
While watching my life become deconstructed.
I won't sign my soul away to new leases,
While watching myself fall completely to pieces.

Time passes by with unbearable sloth,
Turning time's hands, as if stirring a broth. 
I wallow in feelings I've not before felt,
And stand in a bucket while my insides melt.

And sorry dear reader, my tale has no morals,
I can't teach a lesson while my conscience still quarrels.
Until I find my missing part,
I can only give, but half my heart.

Copyright © Krystal Turton | Year Posted 2012

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Putin Non Gmo Gluten Free Cheese On The Ritz

Though a wimpy, tiny, and puny
(smaller than a breadbox) Ogre
whereat my portable minuscule
fingerhut size adobe abode ex
posed to Strunk and White raw
grammatical elements of style,

I counted Flip (Wilsonian) view,
to camouflage myself anytime
and anywhere as significant add
vantages. The obvious down side
(i.e. severe limitations to pull off

major coup) forced me to axe
paunches pilot while taking a chopper
if I van nah miniaturize daring deed
(done dirt cheap) reconfigured,

retouched, recorded by Das scribe
named Magnum Opus. Indeed,
this chance to golong (equivalent
of Olympic gold) foretold peering
into granule size barren crystal ball.
Preliminary steps undertaken

to pull off impossible mission;
mo' difficult than a blind man
taking eighty steps to Honah
infiltrating 70+ shades of gray area

prime Donald Trump real estate.
A priority prevailed to act on
the QT (q-tip) lest cover get blown,
and suspicious communique encrypted
to gal lobe trotting henchmen.
Urgency spurred daring deed,
cuz targeted subject in question

(majority population counted
as debouched, delirious, and
demonstrably dangerous
demagogue, in short a "FAKE"
president! Security details
(like stray cats on the prowl),

could sniff out ploy to re
program depraved, deranged,
and detached supposed Master
at helm. His audacity, effrontery,
and isolationist iffy ideology
placed him squarely as half baked
cookie monstrosity against

United States Commander in Chief.
First order of business necessitated
tranquilizing this doughty, haughty
enemy of the Lumpenproletariat!

Renown chemist friends of mine
(actually War tin buddies) alias
Diet Coke and/or Diet Pepsi
secured an ampule Taj Mahal

~ circa 1631vintage. One ampule
viz pill could knock out a giant –
sans, Jack and the beanstalk fame.
No ifs, and or bots, the secret
got pulled off without spilling

figurative (jelly) beans. Once
inside auditory labyrinth, I
immediately noticed striking
deus ex machina pussy riot ting
resemblance to microscopic cave.
A thick baad *** sieve sludge 
of cerumen sis tah

(waxy substance) deaf finitely
posed an initial dilemma,
which audio slave solution
entailed collaboration to build
a toothpick fence. Pensiveness

unexpectedly found subject
reflexively scratching, poking,
and jabbing inadvertently
finding me toward ground zero.

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018