Best Executor Poems
The flush of spring has bought new life to romp in greening feed,
along the border with the forest where domestic flocks do breed.
Managed through the daylight by the fear of being seen,
the sentinels of death await for night when they are keen.
Though distant lights may glow as beacons for the lost,
guerrilla’s stream out silently in pack form to accost,
and satisfy their lust for blood without no grace or fear,
frustrating yet the hand of man. By dawn they disappear.
Far reaching eyes in anger lies where wilderness is dense,
I know my soul is being watched beyond the border fence,
locked into disappointment where flies gather at my feet;
There’s blood-stained wool on rotting flesh, with no thought to eat.
Immediate is my judgment for no trial is needed here,
I am the executor of the guilty, who dare to wander near.
Survival is the wisdom tho’ for the wily streetwise cur,
the frenzy’s not in pattern! It’s too late for where they were.
The night is cold and lonely with the urge for needed sleep,
but as the shepherd of my flock I must protect my sheep.
A pack will form again when blood is dry and lost its scent;
Until the last sheep drops their guard, no dog shall here repent.
The lead appeared Alsatian bounding surprised in its flight,
for its escape back to the bush in my sudden cheating light.
The echo of my three-o-three thundered through the hills,
with-in the change of retrospect. ‘Tis I who wants the kills.
Death took a holiday tonight where death was meant to be,
my shot was high or wide or low, ‘twas more shadow I could see.
Silence returned and in my light that scanned the field and scrub,
I knew that I was being watched, beyond a woodland shrub.
Scene 1 - In a cabin on the Mountain side:
" Kenny, you ol' Food Dog you. How was your trip" '" Long and boring. I came as soon as I got your letter. How's Chef doing?"
"Not well, they have him over at the old folks home, they want to commit him for Dementia; as Executor of his estate they need
your signature." " I doubt they'll get that." " A Dr. Mendelsohnn has a status meeting tomorrow at 2" " Well what happened? "Chef
was on one of his nature walks when he ran into two hikers, they got scared and called 911, said there was a crazy man in the woods.
By time the cops got up here Harry was home." "Who was with him, Phil who was with him?" " Kenny, it was Black Friday everyone
was at work" " Jesus Christ, Sorry Lord. Phil, you guys promised never to leave him alone after he was diagnosed with stomach cancer"
" Sorry Ken I got called into work, Chef said he felt fine, you know how Chef is about working." Yea I know, but we also know he's
not always truthful about his health. So they just took him away" Not really, when Mike got here there was 4 cop cars in the yard, they
had to literally drag him out. Chef wasn't acting sane. Dr. Mendelsohnn said he has Dementia, and wants to commit him to Easy Rest Adult Care."
" Not a problem, Phil, Does the year 2004 and 2007 mean anything to Chef" "Redsox World Series Wins." Right , Chef said when he doesn't
remember them, then it's time to leave this realm
Scene 2 - Easy Rest Adult Care Fascility
Supervision is an answer:
Yes, I know one superdancer,
But it is also the limit:
He and she are 2 unlimited,
And they dance very good too,
We can see - not only imagine,
It is truth -
Not a legend, don't confuse,
Please, show us again the holiday for eye,
Because it seems to me
That I have also the only one naive
In which I am always in fever,
Another I keep in the bank of MTV:
They always promise not to do more
Than we are ready to sing, dance
And to live! No war!
With big peace in this romance,
It's a main reason:
I am the supervisor
Of my car, house, office, business
And sometimes an executor on the kitchen
Where my wife is a super manager of all
Cocktails and super tutor
Of me good
And cute!
In prepping for a funeral
The family gathered in the hall
They sat there all mourning
Even though it was nightfall
He had eaten lots of vegetables
Yet, he passed on in his suite
Must have still had too much sugar
And not enough heart beets
A farmer by trade, he grew
Not just beets but onions too
When he passed, they cut his crops
And cried all the way through
They made his favorite cheese as well
A batch to honor him that day
His athlete niece, age nineteen, fell
Now there’s pro teen in the whey
Onions served at the will reading
One son got more than his share
“Yes, I see”, said the executor
I can smell it in the heir
“Woof” exclaimed his trusty dog
“This situation is certainly tough.
Although I’m sad about my human
These jokes were pretty ruff…..”
I want to make you laugh God
Have you ever laughed so hard that your belly hurts?
I want you to enjoy my poems because you deserve it God
God you know we earthlings always think we know what we are talking about
But a lot of times we have no inklings of what we debate about
We have a tiny idea of what we believe in
And we try to prove our point
But God, we only have just a little enlightenment
But we grab a hold of it and try to make it into a grand theory
God what about the time when we are so sure of what we are doing
That we begin to think that we are in control
Then boom - something goes amiss
And we call out to you “ help us”
And You come to our aid
So who is in control?
You
God , how about our belief in ourselves that we think we are so sufficient
That we think we can do all things
Make all things
Think of all things
-The grandeur of it all
We think we can make it all happen
In our systematic ways
We plan, organize, sketch out
Everything going down to the minute details
We have it going
But we forget that you are in charge of it
And we take the credit that you deserve
Like when we say we love you
But we don’t spend time with you
Or think about you
Or talk to you
Or show you
How many times God?
How many times we said that we will do that for you
But we put it off
We don’t have all the answers but we think we do
We don’t have any possessions but we think we have
We don’t know that
-the only possessions we have are stored up in heaven
We can accumulate them here on earth
To be stored by you
And You will show us how to get it
Do it, actualize it
You are the perfector
You will complete what you started in all of us
Organizer, Redeemer, Achiever
Accomplisher, Planner, Executor
You are all in all in us
Faithless, faithful, undecided
You are the Creator of us all
And you are forever faithful
Forever exalted and glorified
Forever Our All-Mighty, Absolute Being
Our Jehovah, Infinite Spirit, All-Knowing
Forever our Greatest King
Magnifier, Justifier, Amplifier
You are all
Oh, our Good Shepherd
We lift up your name
God you are
All
And here we thought we are all
That is my contribution for today
Hope you enjoy it
Will make you laugh more tomorrow
Love, your reserveless admirer
Insistent analyzer
Persistent assister, attainer, attempter
Forever love
-Yours
PEARLS OF PERPETUITY
Memorable jaunt, one never to daunt.
Returned very gaunt, yet pearls she doth vaunt.
Pallor didn’t want. Now spectre doth haunt.
Calligraphy font of eccentric aunt.
Executor chaunt - ridiculous flaunt.
Niece struts pearls to taunt - doppelgänger wont.
3rd Place
4/26/2017
John Hamilton’s Rhymers delight-internal monorhyme-2 contest
My life passes by in an instant,
A lighting strike,
An immediate presence then gone,
What has brought me to this point,
I will miss you my love,
The wind at my back,
The sun in my face,
It was hot that day.
A bead of a sweat trickles down my cheek,
The silence of dead space follows me,
In my gut I know it wasn't my day.
The buzzards await their meal,
I realize,
Honor is the foundation of my word ,
Action is the beneficiary of my tongue.
My neurons a slave to my ego,
The executor of my thought ,
And as I count my paces,
I realize this is me!
I am greatful to know,
I am truly alive.......
Rising, a second ahead of stead, fine timing of executor
Horse gusto momentum, mortality a trot towards death
Tied up apple placated decades are dust obscured
Gallops a gamble heart squeeze mane clenched
Bridle left imprints jovial jockey rubs in virility
River pebble tossed prospect to become creek victor
Firm hooves with haphazard legs flail out of depth
Eyes which recognise primary desire, easily lured
Guile of reliance, combed gleamed pretense
Leads to forsaken stable of lollypop loyalty
Karat snap accusations on nonchalance don't register
Angry words inhaled in dawn fragile waking breath
Hat shade Sunday hums hymn worship conditional
Dictation praise from chapter of Shera Seven
Pampers offbeat imminent dog food frailty
Eleventh of May
Mercedes, Argument, Diamonds
I wish not to be the president
For I shall not sleep at wish
I wish not to be the lawmaker
For I may break them
I wish not to be a judge
My son may be docked before me
I wish not to be a priest
I might not heal the sick
I wish not to be an actor
Someone might call me indecent
I wish not to be a teacher
I might teach outdated principles
I wish not to be an executor
I might execute someone for a crime
I also committed some time ago
All I wish is to be me
Living life as it unfolds
for my Mother
After the failed attempt to kill herself,
She gaveled up a parliament of owls,
Repurposing every cabinet and shelf
To house her blinkless treasury of fowls.
What comfort came from a gross of hooded eyes
Strewn through her home, I could not even guess.
Yet urgently she unboxed every prize
And for it found some suitable recess.
As executor, I audited the owls.
Seventy-two, my final reckoning.
There was one I liked. He'd pivot in his cowl
Like a startled monk, when shook. His shuttering
eyes, like cameras, seemed to document the night.
Her night, I thought: her burden, and her flight.
Tis the late June day
Which bring flocks
Their subconscious intentions
Obfuscated by the lingering dimensions
Flaccid ideals and breezes
Traversing gingerly through
The ancient elms
Seeded by the pulps of history
They pray, with each scrape
Of their prescient footsteps
For the sparkle, the brilliance
Those ghostly matters provide in perpetuity
The heat emanating from yearnings
Executed by minute's drive
From understandings siloed
In the labyrinth of mind's eye and virtue
Bless us, grand tome
Executor of fine minds and savages
Vanquish, release us into the
Banal confines heretofore begging
To improve and congeal
For the worlds remote
Need the godliness
The opaque permissive rain
Quenching thought to act
Towards probable endings
Splendid imperatives
Preserved for those
Who wish to partake.
(6/24/08)
Dazzling at the gong square,
In the heavenly rhythmical waves.
All eyes await to see the wonders
Just like okoto the movement was
That led to the raining of owo eyo
Joy in the heart it floats to see the raining.
long term dead will come fort to life,
Debt it ought be but death it amounts.
Could it be the prophecy of the old?
That is yet to be known to amount a mystery in
our eyes,
the calling of the great army of our wealth.
Your great hands we see in Egypt.
The father of faith acknowledged thee and was
blessed.
The giver of productivity and ruins I hail you.
Oh! Ten is your name.
You are the law that strikes without executor.
My heart lingers not to fall to your hands
Still failing in executing your precepts
This I tender as prayers never to be your prey!
In God’s own world, kind and humane once,
bullets rip through the dreaming buds,
blood flows with the color of innocence,
the flowers of promise never bloom.
Terror breeds in the fanatic hearths,
dislocated minds mutilated by despicable instinct
turn into executor of targeted destruction,
chosen randomly from ominous list of insane caprice.
Morality defaced by indolent intolerance,
understanding disintegrates into abhorrence.
Empathy is lost in the dark alley of violence,
off-course conscience evades probity rationale.
In God’s own creation so beautiful ever,
the children inhabiting the world today,
still smile and play merrily without fear.
God has not given up on the mankind yet.
_______________
January 9, 2023
Contest : Hit List 2023
Sponsored by : Joe Maverick
(earlier this January 18th, 2019 belatedly
to acknowledge my LX birthday.)
Mine eldest sister
as I continue in the circle game
of life, (ye dear Amelie
McGeehan) darling dame
a modestly lofty poem I aim
to dash off (while riding away
high in the sky - belay
ying at Macht shnel blazing
saddles laser optic speed
in a white horse open sleigh),
and plaudits of course
without moment's delay,
your husband Richard,
one hunger re
chap, who wolfed
down his entree
(who introduced me
to fictitious song
titled Richard, Cory),
plus Harris patriarch Boyce aye
aver as gregarious soon tub be
a nonagenarian papa,
also one grand dad dee
glad this sole son did see
our father (thou wart tin...)
maintains sharp mental
a cue witty,
which does not mean he
willoughby immortal
till et tern knit tee
since the gradual
onset of death I bee
leave actually begins at
birth, but whee
ving and bobbing
(like a sponge at sea)
waves each person
closer to thee
cosmic creator, or re:
incarnate tid (three
times a day) tis key
unless otherwise specified
(if questionable issue at stake,
sans not so ease zee
as apple pie with gray vee),
hence power of attorney
in demand, cuz
this brother-hood
generated bupkis, and made prithee
coon fuse, nary a whit,
asper executor signed...
yours True Lee!
The estate of Ambrose Rose is released from probate.
To receive their inheritance, the stooges can't wait.
Ichabod Slipp is the executor holding the money.
What this crook is doing to the stooges isn't funny.
Each one gets a beating from Slipp in an altercation.
On a night train is where Slipp has made a reservation.
Moe, Larry, and Shemp board it for a confrontation.
Are you curious about where this story will go?
All you have to do is watch the video.
Based on the 1947 Columbia Pictures short subject "Hold That Lion"
starring the Three Stooges.