Best Fink Poems
Thru maritime miles of minions in motion
We hedge our opinions while pledging devotion
To serving the Captain and sharing our smiles
Through barrels of onions and flea-bearing trials
But even the pirates who pose in a rumble
Are learning the merits of those who are humble
The path of our choosing where sinning is pleasure
Is better for losing than winning a treasure
I plunged overboard when I soared off a plank
At the point of a sword and a sore lady's prank
The captain's first mate made her daddy agree
That my fate was a date with the fish in the sea
I knew she was baiting my body at brunch
To catch me in waiting and serve me for lunch
All pirates are worthy to fish and to feast
But no one should make me a dish for a beast
From well on the brink to a splash in the sink
I fell in a flash for a female fink
I knew she was watching me fall in the tank
And laughing discreetly with Daddy to thank
I should have resisted the words that she said
But when she persisted they went to my head
I told her I loved her but so did my mate
Who never returned from his very first date
It seems bloody retching but fatefully true
When somebody fetching is fatal for you
You flee from the danger but fractured you find
That pretty young stranger has captured your mind
You think she is true but you never can tell,
Her saltwater stew is a bitter farewell,
A mob in her keep is the poorest of help,
Who force you to leap in a forest of kelp,
Though mad as an adder I drifted from reach
To bob like a bladder in search of a beach
The Great White beside me was my willing host
To have me for dinner and eat me the most
Then something resembling a storm with a tail
Came surging at me in the form of a whale
I lost my composure and when I passed out
She tossed me all over to sit on her spout
Upon this brave lady who skirted the water
I fled for my life from the ship captain's daughter
She brought me to land on the girth of her blubber
To flip me ashore like a lousy landlubber
From deep in the sea to a seat by a seal
The freedom I keep is a cheap kind of deal
The beach that I sleep on is sunny and hot
So happy to be where my honey is not...
Most restful sleep since... being in utero
Courtesy restless leg syndrome
spouse called me expletive rat fink
ousted me out the bed with plink
as lovely bones almost got extinct,
whence consoled self singing ditty
Skidamarink a-dink a-dink
makeshift burrow of pillows nsync
shuteye analogous to grateful dead,
Elysian Fields I did drink
yours truly fast asleep
found repose within eyeblink
awoke rested minus
knotted knobs entire body kink
metaphorical twisted human pretzel,
yours truly did not shrink
though disabled to walk,
hence mobility regressed
circumscribing me ambulatory
range to crawl and slink,
no matter paralyzed
(albeit temporarily), I think
above mentioned rectifies
Quandary whereat legs
shimmy and shake
keeping the missus awake
she requires daily at least
twenty four hours
of beauty rest to slake
lest she renders me into
chopped liver and/
or skewered beefcake
nuttin I divulge "fake,"
courtesy this corny flake,
who years gone by
a scoundrel and rake
straying against marital fidelity
triggering psychological earthquake
present crisis pits less at stake,
thus forgive wordplay
much more age
appropriate than pattycake,
perhaps slight hyperbole
thee only literary gambit
up figurative sleeve,
me ain't no magician,
nor gifted with holiness
able to walk across lake
thus harmlessly,
kiddingly, purposelessly...
cavort, frolick,
before darkness, when I
unduly forced to betake
self and disappear hoping the morrow
will find most bushy tailed wideawake.
Steve McGarrett ate a carrot,
With a parrot as a pet,
When he stopped to catch a ferret,
At a local launderette.
Well, he had to grin and bear it,
When the ferret, as a foe,
Had the gall to greet McGarrett,
With a ferret body blow.
"What's the matter, Steve McGarrett,
Said the ferret, as he fell,
If you scatter with a hair net,
And a dab of V-0 gell."
Steve McGarrett knew the ferret,
Had a parrot-hungry face,
So he tried to chase and wear it,
For the parrot to embrace.
"Don't you know, Steve McGarrett,
That a ferret is a fink,
When you try to kill and wear it,
And the creature starts to stink?"
At the moment, Steve McGarrett,
Was distracted by the row,
Then a bunny rabbit's carrot,
Made a funny kind of blow.
Well, McGarrett knew the carrot,
Was a dare-it kind of throw,
So he gave the silly Parrott,
As a present for Dan-O.
And he left to catch the rabbit,
In a carrot patch that grew,
For the rabbit-killing habit,
Of a Five-O killing crew.
But the pace, by Steve McGarrett,
Was a sorry sight to see,
And he jiggled with a carrot,
In the course of history.
When McGarrett made a fumble,
On the path to victory,
Then he took a major tumble,
Down the hollow of a tree.
To be continued . . .
How much do they know
Who are the blabbers
Who are the rat finks
It is my sister
Could bro be that low?
Is a rumor
A blatant lie
Fabrication
I start to yell
People laugh
Relatives
At outburst
Sheepish
I look
Downward
Sad
Government policies that toilet stink
Presidentially approved
by a potty-mouth politrician rat-fink
Give the progressive town halls
more executive bathroom stalls
Read the foul language scrawls
on the Oval Office latrine
dollar-bill green painted walls
Flush the rank noise
with a few
smelly issue tissue tweet bawls
That dung aroma gon make your nose blink,
bowel vapors
will have your thoughts vomiting in the sink
Get the voting public
standing at nausea attention
Prep the ballot masses of breathy dissension
with sound bytes
of bitter chocolate bung mint,
duly veto sent
Tell ‘em it’s their sworn patriotic duty
to greedily eat the excrement
Taste the butt-hole flavor
of nasty worded inhalation torment
Truth got swallowed whole ... intestinal sold
Filthy lucre lips
do love the ruble con savor
Condition the brownie-nose party bound chumps
to double dip the cow chips
into the raw sewage salsa with the brown lumps
Be stricken by the loose tongue,
back-end diet
of diarrhea verbose crying
A cheeky butt buffet ...
odious motives with odoriferous intent
Buy the all-you-can-eat lying,
go feast on the swirling fear excrement
Hear me out on this and don’t make a fuss
I like ***** flicks full of sex and lust?
Please keep this a secret just between us
One’s showing today I’ve heard is top crust
Who told you that seeing it is a must?
I sure hope it is someone that you can trust
No one knows sex movies better than Gus
OK, ask Fred to go and drive his bus
And you should pay his way, that’s only just
He’s just such a fink, do you get my thrust?
Pay for Fred is something we’ll not discuss
Just forget it; the whole idea’s a bust
It started with a drink I drank till drunk
when I started to wonder if I'd blink till blunk.
As I opened my eyes in a stink I stunk
and I started to think and thank till thunk.
Life beginning to sink, it sank till sunk.
I was feeling the fink; a fank with funk.
With my money going clink and clank till clunk,
I was poor to a plink of a plank gone plunk.
When I thought of a link I had linked till lunk,
come as fast as a mink of a mink gone munk.
And I started to write in an ink gone unk,
just to write down a story in the pink gone punk.
Then I started to slink and slank till slunk,
all from writing a story of kink and kunk.
Just afraid of an ending that I'd flink and flunk
as if out on the rink to rank my runk.
All to make me a trink of a trank to trunk.
I was rich in a prink of a prank gone prunk.
There's no armour for karma,
hurt her it harms ya,
playing between two
then karma gets you,
make a mug of a mate as well
all 3 see you fail.
so long mothermuffer farewell
fink i'm fic
yes you prick,
living on steroids
always annoyed
doing my head in
now you're inside
your life is destroyed,
but say thank you shall I
for the party supply
all 3 of us hate you
and hope you die,
so long mothermuffer goodbye
Starkle, starkle, little twink,
"Who the hell are you?" I think.
I'm not under what you'd call
The alcofluence of incohol.
I'm just a little slort of sheep,
I'm not drunk like thinkle peep.
It's true: I don't know quite who is me yet,
(The drunker I stand here the longer I get!)
So give me one more fink to drill my cup,
'Cause I got all day sober to Sunday up.
*Inspired by "Spoonerisms"
I remember living in one room dingy and dire
with old lino on its rotting wooden floor.
I remember crystallised spit dangling from guard at the fire;
as mother cleaned, he'd only honk the more.
I recall how we went hungry, waiting for the paltry sum
he allowed us for board and keep, the cheap fink,
and how he served apprenticeship to becoming a true bum
by treating as priorities his fags and drink.
I remember all the rows he caused demanding back the cash
which was supposed to feed and clothe his we’ans
I remember every Christmas morn' the gifts received were trash
because he'd pissed the present-money down the drain.
I recall one awful night my mother hunting high and low
with a hungry bedraggled child on either hand,
she finally catching that boozy stinker sate in the Dungloe.
How he fumed, outraged that food she dared demand.
I remember his begrudgement of those sparse few days away–
one hour upon the beach or at the fair:
how just when we were relaxing would be dragged from play.
Homeward-bound: him the ‘bookies', us despair.
I remember trudging up to Creggan to the ‘Housing Place'
every week with mother and sister, come rain or hail,
and how that worthless, selfish, monster did not even have the grace
to commend her dedication, instead railed.
I can picture his expression when she got herself a job,
determined not to lose her new clean home.
I remember his wild tantrums when she'd saved up for a hob–
the delivery man was perplexed at oral foam.
I remember those miserable times as if they were today,
how he made odd help with homework living hell–
so that now a friend's assistance, however gracefully
put, grates my tortured psyche so much I cannot tell.
When we started working, my sister dear and I,
it seemed for him a licence to give less.
Many weeks he'd keep house-money and, as the months went by,
we discovered he'd drunk the rent; that was a mess.
So now sot has retired, and it seems his mind has gone–
for he's telling all how great he was those years:
he built house on the prairie. He was such a con:
the only thing he constructed was a legacy of fear.
Think Mom dumb?
Fear makes numb!
Fink Cupid's arrow
Fly like sparrow
Why succomb?
(Any resemblance between said title,
as told tummy by ya finch,
and commander in chief,...
not accidental, nor a cinch
buttock hum posed on behalf
of these bottom ming out
fifty states, plus Puerto Rico inch
ching, donning, and clamoring
desperately for fluffin snuff pinch)
hitter to aright "FAKE"
government even a cameo by David Lynch,
would pilot ship of state with nary a flinch
bucking creative enterprise winch
cha ya know
as writ by this average Joe
brainstorms offbeat ideas
caw king like a black crow
boot probably relegated
to same fate as dodo
bird long extinct,
asper could also be woe
full destiny of this poe
whit (wannabe), plus aspirant
aiming, mulling, vying,
et cetera tubby
next presidential bozo
and thwart further ruses to hoodwink
by subterfuge, treachery, unethical...brink
man ship, Capital One citizen bankers
to re: captcha how to MAGA,
and avoid pitching country
slipping into behavioral sink,
which White House bumstead "FAKE"
golden blond dee antics even entice pink
panther to coon sitter entering 2020 elections
amidst what promises tubby hang nail biting,
knuckle cracking, hair pulling - each kink
Putin on brakes against
collusion, sans frightful - link
king voter bribery, disenfranchisement, fraud...
calling joint efforts of Captain Nemo,
Captain Kangaroo, Captain America...ink
kin, a pact (minus any imp) potent fink
power hungry, money grubbing, apprenticed
tan hatt man spinning wheel of misfortune
beady barren eyes that never blink
immodest, impertinent, impudent,
et cetera hyperlink
to flesh eating, debauchery,
bacchanalian web pages
kickstarting naked lunch high jink.
Take a half-truth,
mix it with a half-lie
Toss in a patsy,
create the perfect alibi
Somebody that you murdered,
had to be moved out of the way
Something you wanted in your possession,
you had to kill to get it ...
a blood price you were willing to pay
You took aim at one of your frienemies,
found out what their weak spot was
Lured them with a most basic instinct,
baited the trap for the no-good rat fink
Then you sent in a silent shadow ---
top-notch thief, street handle: "Mud"
To steal something that was stolen,
felt doubly good just because ...
you could do it
Make 'em feel the hurt
when they got hit
And besides, you didn't like 'em
anyway one bit
You loved making 'em get out the game,
making 'em quit
You took what you wanted,
so why did you have to kill 'em?
You say it wasn't that way,
they brought about their own foul play
Pride wouldn't let 'em take the sting,
leave it alone,
just say you got the best of 'em
No, they had to take it to another level,
put a contract out
Hire an out-of-town scout
Second rate criminal trying to jump first class on you
No, that won't abide, that just won't do
So back to the question,
somebody want to know why?
Sorry, wannabe detective,
seems he's got an airtight alibi
“ UNSUPPORTED CODE ” ©
Now it’s about time for all to be known
What’s always been there are facts to be shown
Eternal at last it embraces all
And with composure it stands by on call
Time is the measure of all things bourn
Creating a past & a future unknown
Always allowing for all things to grow
Giving good reason for us to all know
Season through season through thick & through thin
Time is permissive so accommodating
Given the choice you have to admire
Time has the answers for all to transpire
Free of all worry step into the now
Now known of the past is even the how
So given more time I’m daring to think
We’ll know what’s of worth & what is just fink
Time is the healer doctor & cure
Same for the wholesome as the ragged & poor
Outlasting each thing it makes its own rules
Constructing this world all with its own tools
Time is eternal & moving with pace
Given a moment it makes its own space
Time is forgiving of all the things wrong
All of the evils forgotten so long
While going forward it teaches us right
How to make better each day & each night
If to be honest everything’s to last
Then time is the future present & past
Mild in its manner instructive & fair
If only we’d listened we’d have had to hear
As time & again what’s surely in place
Is all who are here are in the ‘rat-race’.
C-More ®
Shirley, BEEEEE You !!!
This days light, has come to a glorious end,
with it, it brought some memories of a friend.
Lady Snow, was belting out – whispering in my ears
of days winging by – memories , experiences of bygone years.
I have reached in deep – knowing – I created your tears
as your world of doubts, of insecurities, of fears
hung onto a desire for me – for my passions fires
fires that have lead me to beds and to funeral pyres
upon which I have burned and burned, yet never learned
to be compassionate, empathetic for the passions earned.
Only for the touch, the feel, a fleshy meal I yearned
for, a talking in tongues to that deliciously sweet pink
- Mother earth laying beneath a furry, forest floor – and think
of all who gave, all who needed, and realize !, to my grave, a fink.
I, sometimes wonder ?, about all those who gave much to me’
I wonder what they feel ?, – think – if at all and what they see
in what once was- that made up the moments of what would be,
now nothing more than experiences committed to memories hoard
where they are all stored - in remembering, would they be boars ?
Some will remember, some will forget, some will deeply bury.
I am left, can only wonder ?, - in the end - will they carry
fragments, flakes of my soul, my spirit, me, with them to their end.
Will they ever wonder ?, will they ever know ?, I was just a friend
or will they see me as empty to them now as I was empty to them
so long ago, a time of once shared intimacies and fun, when
we were so care free, before we moved on to things different,
and new for me and you and what we once had, was sent
into the caves of history for which there would be no rent.
I do wonder what was in your mind, what you were able to find ?,
as you thought of me, did you find that I was very seldom kind?
For all these many years – tears for what was left behind
- all of life’s pleasures, with – all, from time to time, fill my mind !
B. J. “A ” 2
February 18th 2006