Best Establishments Poems
I am a driver
responsible for controlling starting,
stopping
and speeding.
I am a driver of a steam locomotive
a railway train powered through a steam engine.
and fueled by burning combustible material.
I shall evoke nostalgia,
I am goint to lead you hand i hand
To the simple delight
You’re going to experience an enormous plume of steam bursting
As the train as it pulls out of a station.
All aboard!!!!!
Dum di dum di dum
Around 100 different lines, we go
All part of the fantasy,
The ultimate romance of travelling by steam train.
Ladies and gentlemen
I am captain Nehpets Gnik
Welcome aboard.
This journey will take a week,
We shall meander along the coast at Torbay,
over viaducts,
past harbours and beaches with pastel-painted huts,
this is a 120 mile track taking us inland through the Devon countryside
From there to the Dart estuary.
Will will stay staying at local hotels
with more luxurious establishments along the way.
Dum di dum di dum
Dum di dum di dum
Dum di dum di dum
I hope you enjoyed our journey
Please don’t forget any luggage
Hoping to see you again.
16th January 2015
I doff my fedora to the feller who invented pertater chips!
That genius developed the ideal thingy in which to immerse our dips!
How could we survive sans our weekly fix of Dominoes pizza pie,
Or a half-dozen Dunkin Donuts consumed on the sly?
Ain't nothin' as finger lickin' good as Kentucky Fried, original of course,
Or a Wendy's triple bacon 'burger when you're as famished as a horse!
Ah! The myriad of Mexican fixin's offered by the local Taco Bell!
Chimichangas, burritos, tacos, tostadas and enchiladas as well!
Japanese and Chinese establishments offer mysterious and fancy fare.
Try sushi, octopus, crawfish or deep fried squid if you dare!
If you crave ice cream, cookies or a hunk of cake or such cuisine,
Hie yourself on down the street to the nearest Dairy Queen!
For the hotdog aficionado there are weenie varieties galore;
Foot longs, chilidogs, smothered in sauerkraut and so many more!
Want some scrumptious and satisfying grub that'll fill your belly?
Get a ham on rye, thick salami or a Rueben at the neighborhood deli!
At Dad's BBQ you can order any kind of barbeque with greasy fries.
To top off the pancakes at The Village Inn you can buy chocolate pies!
Doctors and nutritionists would cringe at such a diet of course.
Fiddle faddle! I'll keep on eatin' that stuff with absolutely no remorese!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
I've slurped chili from border-to-border and betwixt the roilin' seas,
In fancy five-star establishments and greasy spoon eateries.
I've sampled some that has caused anxious gastrointestinal uproar,
But I'm a glutton for the stuff and always go back for more!
I'll eat chili with or without beans, it really matters not,
Jes' so there's plenty in the pot and it's rather spicy hot!
I'll even deign to open a can of concentrate in an emergency,
But I much prefer a great chef's favourite and secret recipe!
Many are the chili cook-offs I've sauntered my way through,
Tastin' gawd-awful concoctions, my face turnin' a reddish hue!
Those guys toss things in the pot about which I wouldn't care to know.
Their recipes are closely-held secrets and there ain't no quid pro quo!
Now, usually I can tolerate chili from any hot and spicy batch,
But, boys, I'm here to tell you that today I finally met my match.
Satan himself must have brewed that beastly olio!
I gasped, shed copious tears and my ears assumed a ruddy glow!
I'm told its a social blunder to crumble crackers in your soups,
But what care I? I ain't concerned about jumpin' through no social hoops!
Some of the glares I get from folks are embarrassin'ly chilly!
So what! Me worry? I relish crumbled crackers in my chili!
A man of free will
A visionary soul
Gulps down the misery of discrimination
Climbs a great hill with compassion
Breathes over hurdles
Uses time wisely
Don’t wish but go get
Don’t only dream but pursue
Money won’t create success
Freedom will
It doesn't matter where one is from
A heart matters
Unite to create establishments
Because there is a Nelson Mandela in every true spirit
Bundle of rules elongating the short distance between a problem and its solution
Unnecessary layers compulsorily placed on a mounted ladder with very few steps
Road expectedly smooth and direct is created with uneven stones and many bends
Every step is an independent process making the system tiring and liable to corruption
Alternating procedures and changing routes heavily function in the handling of issues
Under these so many ambiguous limbs is the fertile ground to germinate yet more problems
Complication storms out of these processes lined up in a queue with undefined relevance
Rare is the accuracy of timing respected as it is bastardized in five to ten folds
Add-ons a very possible side effect embracing the commotion of the mercy of many hands
Cruel is this system, especially in the 21st century of advancement in data processing
Yet loved by establishments of worlds without regard to maximizing human services.
The Critic - Art and Poetry
- by Bob Atkinson
'tis always easier to criticize
than is to do it yourself
although in truth the latter
contains far more fun and mirth
my point lies somewhere in between
good and bad of poetry
adjustment for the mainstream
how we absorb idealistic dreams
to see this in a different light
with crystal covers on the lens
we can, with open eyes
love writers with sharp pens
those who look beyond the fluff
and understand good meaning
divest themselves of constraints
and pursue a different dreaming
they see a world with tearfulness
not holding on to chains
which produce establishments
that grate and agitate
my desire in this arena
carries to all a simple message
don't let the future be determined
by past usage and direction
what you see is fabricated
a reality far from real
poo pooing things that matter
holds their only zeal
me, I've grown accustomed
to my meaning zipping by
heads of those who look
only at the surface side
doesn't mean I'm disheartened
to try is not hard at all
when you feel compunction
to rearrange it all
Woody cologne caresses me, your fatherly comfort
Stirs corpsed compartments of stiff collar protector
Control and my frenetic force combine, triumphant
Curled in cream leather, exhaust drips peach nectar
Our lunching laughs echo in establishments of stature
Plate sized steak gorging has gregarious wine support
Irk of nostalgic nubile incessantly scratches my rapture
Emboldened blend makes mockery of standard thought
Furtive frowns from fellow diners behind glasses gossip
Solid gold arrogance asserts benefit blatantly displayed
Societal stable unharnessed, blurred in break out gallop
Crossing the line wins sustain disdain for lifestyles staid
Ocean boulevard show emits stadium raucous applause
Celebrated red car salatious, shouting salt can't catch us
Elite earnings erase enforced judgement, smudging laws
We cruise past calm cove, masts middle finger up status
Fresh blood Ferrari parks grumpy, subground clot cements
Your apartment arranged for everlasting afternoon lust fest
Ruptures my role of freewilled friend, raunch to commence
Aerobics of limber mayhem, loosened make-up, not just yet
Smug exhibits itself on you, bosom blooming, smile swollen
Why are you weird; response is, "Let's make a small detour"
Perhaps a chance to sunbathe bikini clad hasn't been stolen!
Side by side basking serves as a mismatched stamina cure!
Sixth floor nominate instead of eighth arouses sudden angst
Silver keys silence, you push them to my palm with a flourish
This mystery door surely won't submit, a magic rabbit yanked
Wave glint water pours in wall width windows, sun encouraged
"Enjoy, it's in your name," your announcement deep sea drowned
Overwhealmed by involuntary screams, my violent claws attached
Cling to your hull, oyster oppurtune splits old and new, pearl found
Levered apart, rough encasement heart slides out, gratitude hatched
27th Febuary 2026
rewritten by further reality
May 2020 was first version imagined
Stone set unblemished unworked faces create hardship floors on which to sip out of rock puddles. Such luxury. In a fine art landscape one must always wear clicking heels. And one must always lift ones head and toss one's bowl hairdo around. It gives an embellishment of establishment. Yet whilst closing establishments always arrange the items on the tray to perfect the mass erosion of corrosive killers. It is to be said that dueling in a spa is the undeciphed leak of a giant cat. Fat catacombs playing whilst the sky bird drops upon the earth in destructive violent ease. Smiling. Thumbs up. Goggle eyed. Then carcasses pulled by mules. In skirts. Carry no silver blade. Wear no authentic ancient dress. Don the hats and adornments of the fake. To fix a fax is to fornicate frantically causing fish to float. For danger lies in spewed out materials. Look no further than within for truths said millipede to centipede. They were crossing a heavily used junction. Look there at the fortresses and deem not of importance the wealth of a breed born. Then off. Zoom. They went zoom. Good. Gratefully grabbing garters giving greatness. And a small atomicity agonising. Not good. Not great. So no hahahaha to that fried wok explosion. Of sorts it is a curvaceously built argumentative and aromatic compound in a cutlery drawer sailing. Admirable. No not admirable. Jeer not a rolling pin shaped triangularly. Be not a bend in a lane. Xxxxx insectivorous ideologues. Xxxx bean bomb. Xxxxx destitution demon xxxxx dragline drainage basin *** cosmopolitanism z z z.
Life is like being an imaginary tree
In a teeming, tangible forest
On a pursuit with an invisible grail
To no avail our reapings
So in doubt, a story is sewed
To no avail our teachings
Just rebellion of “you must”
Plus understanding of youths plow
That loosens up and refreshes the soul
Exposing establishments rotten roots
Slicing and serving the perpetual
Planting seeds of ideals peeled
Off utopias dream, sprouting from need
From release of constant conditioning
You’re either dying or you’re new
And if innovation must be new
Then stagnation is a leach
For a tree is known for it’s fruit
Not for how far branches reach
So pick when ripe and before you blink
More will be surely bore from new
Ripe or rotten? Good or bad?
Well, that’s up to you
1. Today’s rains make me feel a drought
All the more thirstingly. A drought
Of all that is not unwanted
All that is not love, that is.
In times when farmers kill themselves
Due to debts, a rash truck kills
A man on a walk and fellow
Students rape a girl in the lab.
It’s all goose-turd and rat-piss.
2. What it would be like if the rains
Could be stilled in mid air. To hold
It stilled in hand and seek
Like a child its sparkle inside.
Dull or sparkling, something or nothing
I wouldn’t break it like a child.
Rain and water are brittle like
Limbs, hearts and life. Handle with care.
3. Is it not wonderful when
Tomorrow’s rains rain today. Yes.
But not always. Today it is.
Tomorrow I might be drenched
To my bones. But its soaking me
To my heart’s content today
Is the price the day offers
To all those who waited out the bad
Days through failed power, lost TV serials
And washings that would not get dry
And washed away belongings.
4. And finally when it rains, it
Is simply rain. Torrential
Or scanty, flowing or fitful.
No room to safekeep my private
Thoughts against the querying chill
No scope for my forlorn hopes
Against this searching soggy breeze.
Someone across the street has switched
On a record which goes about
Repeating ‘Om Namah Sivayah’
And I conclude boldly and brightly
It rains pristine and cold. It rains.
Like a holy chant, an oft-heard song
It rains life and hope. It rains.
Note:
1.Bundh is a form of public protest in India against governmental action or inaction and is observed through closure of business establishments, stopping of public transports etc for a specified duration, usually a day.
2.Om Namah sivayah is a religious chant, which is supposed to bring the blessings of Lord Siva .
Southgate and Sterling discourse on the disturbing. Alarming' The focus of classes through
Which much chattering passes, in meme graph and drama a gasp'orama of division's incision draconian Intrusion, reality never meeting; insanity tries our reason, as all seasons grow evil.'
Three meters apart, we survey the heart to heart, Sterling is speaking of racisms seeping
In establishments 'a steeping.' Against the grade he'd kept keeping moving in reason
Playing believing, although at times seething he'd still kept on keeping, right in his sights'
Southgate spoke fairly of efforts and aims, of soul searching to gain, for the betterment
Waiting not to get lost in the making, in the race to a summit not to jeopardise something
A reaching of reason, he expounded his thesis I believe he is open from what he has spoken
He and many knee taking, their sign to humanity with its fractures and vanity's in the making
Yet apartheid was there breathing it's death stench, I felt my inside almost up-retch invisible
Walling from floor up to ceiling 3 meters from reason; from the spirit of Christ's season
The farce of pandemic with dystopian rhetoric, was adhered to in action complying with
Coercion while denying its perversion, living out an in-version blind were the sighted
Yet puppet masters so delighted, set the scene and invited this righteous pair; so united
The validation of division apartheid in Britain! an acceptable evil; is this truly liveable?
Imagination un-holy in the scenes now bestowed me I saw the spectre of evil
Strutting in between them, breathing their words in, and spitting out silent signs'
Pseudo derived 'lateral inanity' our salvation? And To embrace such insanity?
© Joe Maverick 2021
Voting in November
By Franklin Price
6/16/2016
Voting in November
Is a very scary thing
Especially for the president
What will either of them bring?
He is quite outspoken
To the point of stupidness
Due to investigations
Her position is a mess
To have belief in either
And what they have to say
Could have us regretting voting
And maybe even rue the day
Both have followed process
As they've risen to the top
The parties are quite ignorant
Is there a way to make this stop?
The House and Senate much to blame
Parties would not cross the aisle
Bound by their establishments
Their actions just a pile
For years have gotten nothing done
Standing in the way the choice
Incumbents choosing nothing
And the public has no voice
This is how we've gotten here
Could be headed for the dump
By voting for the Hillary
Or the far outspoken Trump
Make a choice and hope the best
But don't refuse to poll
Then you have no say at all
Which is the politician's goal
I don’t know if there’s a God,
But I still prayed we’d not be seen,
That night we scaled your neighbour’s fence,
To steal their trampoline,
In the halflight the elastic,
Shone like a lacquered animal skin,
Stretched taut across the beaten frame,
Held in place with rusty pins,
Sat there crouching in the darkness,
Like some huge primeval beast,
Yeah it sat there like a drum,
As our souls slapped a beat,
Put me in mind of Three Blind Mice,
Or God Save the Queen,
Or The Rhythm of Life,
Pulled me closer when the net,
Became an oil slick in the rain,
Said whatever souls are made of,
Yours and mine are just the same,
Well I’ve never like clichés,
And I don’t believe in fate,
I’d prefer you to quote Hardy,
I find Austen quite passé,
But there was something in the way,
That you could spin a phrase,
Yeah when you shaped them with your mouth,
Those old words seemed newly made,
You said,
I’ll live my life according,
To the fortune cookie sages,
And glossy magazines,
With their astrology pages,
We can chart a route to China,
And sail by the stars,
We’ll earn ourselves a name,
In brothels and in bars,
Yes we will make our fortune,
And we will find our fame,
In a place where they write danger,
And opportunity the same,
Well I’ve never been to China,
Couldn’t quite see the attraction,
Why fly halfway round the planet,
When there’s sun and sea at Brighton?
And I never understood,
Your peculiar gravitation,
To late night establishments,
Of a dubious reputation,
With their smoke and smut and chewing gum,
And soggy Carlton coasters,
And air of desperation,
And karaoke posters,
Full of ugly men and women,
Making ugly propositions,
You say ‘perfection is a fault’,
By way of explanation,
And claim that there’s a quiet glory,
In decay and all that’s grimy,
And you’ve always been so partial,
To the charms of ugly beauty,
Then sang,
I’ll live my life according,
To the fortune cookie sages,
And glossy magazines,
With their astrology pages,
We can chart a route to China,
And sail by the stars,
We’ll earn ourselves a name,
In brothels and in bars,
Well they’ll never see it coming,
Our touch will leave them changed,
Once we’ve finished with this world,
It will never be the same,
Oh once we’ve finished with this world,
It will never be the same.
What is true up above the sky blue?
The deserts and oceans?
The fountains and mountains?
The fields and vegetation or greenery?
The orchards or forestry?
The temples, factories, buildings and establishments
The firms and developments.
Nothing exists permanently and forever,
The wheels of momentariness rotates all over.
The transformation, changes creation,
But itself it is as stable as the peak of the mountain.
The change determines misfortunes and fortunes.
To some it's a curse and others a boon.
The soldiers of change are storm, famine,
flood, earthquake and tide:
Permanency is deliberately shattered and
embraces momentariness side.
So nothing is true thus nothing permanently lasts,
Truth which appears
but its falsity's volcanic, disastrous, ruinous blast
Perhaps these drops of forgotten ink!!!!
Make indelible impressions on the sands of time.....................................
I stayed on this famous island for a little while,
fortress, prison and avant-garde Bonaparte style.
Rigged charm with antiquities slow train,
governors constitution keeping royal patriots vain.
200 years after the mysterious death of the king,
at his grave, I was wondering, ‘You poor little thing’.
Another sort of great Alexander that loves to conquer,
taken on the establishments in crisis that ponder.
Ideals of restless doomed heroes celebrated,
taken war to higher constitution elevated.
St. Helena the wife of Emperor Constantine,
went on to pilgrimage to find the sacred terrain.
Building the church of the Holy Sepulchre,
the place of Christ crucifixions culture.
Priestess of Avalon and patron saint of discoveries,
island of sacred through Christ self recoveries.
Total sovereignty and its dying destiny,
luring fatal admirations penalty.
No escaping from repeating history.