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It's flirtering for crying out loud
by Beam, John
For crying out loud
by Motaung, Pheko
For Crying Out Loud
by Tears, Apache
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(These would include the younger brothers of Wounded Thunder,
the character I made up in my previously posted poem).
These were sons of Thunder Storm and “Flower,”
from Wounded Thunder down to Thunder Bolt.
“Bolt” was fast; the touchy one was “Shower.”
And Thunder Struck was somewhat of a dolt.
The cute one pampered by fair Prairie Flower
well-deserved his name of Thunder Squall,
and like another brother Thunder Shower,
got teased, but even louder did he bawl!
Both “Squall” and “Shower” vexed their brother “Cloud,”
for Thunder Cloud by moodiness was led
and always scowled at them for crying out loud!
Great Thunder Head filled everyone with dread,
but the wild son who proved the biggest sap
came home infected. That was Thunder Clap!
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
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It's been four years since I've seen so much as an insignificant mountain creek. Been overburdened with comfort, now frantic with nature withdrawals, having to settle for photos found on Google Images: emerald pine trees, blue jays on limbs, moonlight cutting through forests, lakes the color of Windex-ed glass. It's much like drinking water that's been doused with Crystal Light... you may feel yourself becoming hydrated, when it reality it's only satiating your thirst temporarily. So you can imagine my joy when my best friend called me up to break the news.
"Monica, Brandon, Joel and I are gonna go backpacking. Care to join?"
the finality
of a cell hitting the floor -
shoe tying
Like a bunch of sardines packed in a can on wheels, we headed out to beautiful Cascade: the place where the Idahoan mountains aren't just paintings from afar, but close enough to taste. We weave our way through the spider-like dirt trails, as we each take turns changing songs on Joel's iPod. It's my go and I'm searching through the John Denver list, mourning the fact that there's over a hundred songs by him, and not one of them is Colorado Rocky Mountain High (the one song I could say fit my feelings to a tee). The menagerie of everyone's taste in music made for an interesting trip no doubt - even if Jonathan picked the worst possible jams simply for annoyances sake.
My first peculiar observation:
Humans have been making calendars for thousands of years (the first being more akin to cave drawings and stone tablets than paper). But as long as all that has been going on, the mountains don't care that August is expected to be sultry as November is expected to be chilly. Cause June took her first baby steps with a stubborn December mindset - a meandering way to say it was cold enough to freeze your nads off. The mounds of five feet snow made it all the more comical the fact I was wearing plaid shorts. Mother Nature wasn't going to be kind, I could tell.
like turtles
struggling to stand -
our packs full of crockery
It was breezy at first. We would practically glide down the mountain side, using our backpacks as a counter balance. The snowy counterpart to kangaroos, we were. The glistening flakes were thick enough to snowboard down - granted I never touched a snowboard, let alone ridden one. But after seeing this it gives me ideas...
Monica smiled for the camera, as I fumbled for my iPhone, a smile that didn't even require the forcible Say Cheese! nonsense. It wasn't waiting for the camera flash, but the other way around. Now you might be calling that rather pathetic, but I brought my iPhone along simply for the function of capturing memories. Angry Birds just don't compare to the real ones, sweet with lilting songs.
My second peculiar observation:
Google Images is an absolute horrid plagiarist; some beauty just can't be encapsulated despite all our advances in high-def technology.
The downward slope finally leveled out a bit, if only for a few minutes. Truth be told the path never stopped declining - some routes were simply more apparent than others. Our group of five walked single file through the trees, all basing our faith that Joel (a person who has been to the site once when the trail WASN'T covered in snow) would lead us in the right direction. And here's another interesting fact; this was no official trail, but a hike through the purest of adventures, unpredictable and unreliable.
crushing pine needles
with un-gloved fingers -
roaring rivers beneath the snow
The first time my whole leg collapsed into the fragile surface of the snow made me realize just how far above the dirt I was walking. I'd ask Brandon for assistance with a beet red blush on my cheeks - I blamed it on my fair skin falling victim to the sunny day. From then out I tiptoed with exaggerated caution, my heavy pack helping me just as much as it was hindering me. For even a foot drop had to be taken with a grain of salt. Everyone had to adjust to the added weight (except for Monica, with her light load of a sleeping bag, nothing else). I'd very ungracefully glide through twigs and pesky low branches, oblivious of my bare legs. In all honesty the cold didn't get to me, just the scratches of neighboring trees is where my concerns lied. At anytime I could have stopped the whole gang, beaming, "Wait a spell and let me put on some pants for crying out loud". Course that never happened, my clothes were in the bottom of my pack, and I was no where near desperate enough for monkeying around with that sorry mess.
slick slates
slanting down the cliff edge -
helping hands
Joel, with his redneck stubble, beams up at me, "Every hiking trip needs a little bit of adventure, don't rush it by any means!". That's the last thing on my mind - the first is whether or not that rock I'm about to put my weight on is as stable as she looks. It's a very roundabout route, and as questionable as it is, it's safer by a long shot than the first path we took - call it a 103 degree wall.
NOTE: Still working on writing out the rest of my trip to Cascade. It was my first backpacking trip and even though we only stayed one night, the trip is full of wonderful memories.
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013
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befuddled by mud puddle conversation
motivated to stay away from those in the throes of saving face
at a sprinter's pace
saving grace
each time I grind with people who don't mind blindly trying to debase my name
I end up sulking in the walk of shame
families need to learn to move on
be strong
but for crying out loud,
without a doubt,
there shall be heartfelt apologies issued from both sides
this bumpy ride might take a little swallowing of pride,
many bona fide hugs with love
you may go through a box or two of fresh tissues
to properly address the issues
we must stare defiantly into the eyes of resistance
identify the roots of our miscues
giving the boot to artificial rituals
to ambitiously make transitions,
stitch up wounds
switch up moods
shake up, move
to a place where faces are soothed by smiles and laughter
a fresh chapter
an escape after disasters happen
an island where
we realize those who actually matter
yes, addressing the crash
without making the past our current address
i write this piece in peace, for those who may be dueling with duress
stressed by words or actions of those who you may regret not being able to completely
love, respect, and/or caress
----------------------good love
takes hard work
©2014 ~JSL PoetTreez Publishing
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014
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A man who lacks a sleep schedule.
In a home that houses not only him
But his very own mother
His daughter who comes equipped with
Her very own mother too
Honey girl rises with the sun and sets with the moon.
Daddy is her best friend.
Somehow, he is always there for her no matter
What time may it be?
For why does not daddy sleep?
She will say one day without a windowed doubt.
He walks
All by himself
Blue jeans, long sleeved shirt, tennis shoes
Fitted hat with a straight pressed bill; seems…
Worn out
Hidden from (and)
Visibly talking to no
One foot in front of the other
He walks
All by himself
At high pace; silently
Casual, rhythmic by stride
Jacketing immersed anxiety
But he seldom is seen
By anyone; in society
And he is always let down.
By everyone, in society
Eyes roll, heads turn
Cupped hands cover lips
Sweet nothings’ whisper
Secret seams; normal
Tag-less numbers label
Issues of social security
Knock-knock
Who’s there?
Phantom shadows of sound
Ringing in his lonesome
Here’s this man
He adores his daughter.
Abides her; hopes of
Something better than, this now
He has an old laptop computer
Pretty much everything
He writes…
Anything connected within
A damned near perfect philosophy
Portentously troubled, menaced by all means
Principals prove morally taxing on him.
Hiding from his own potential
Running to the wind
He becomes dehydrated through strife
Overwhelmed by mourning gloom
Tears seldom form to become drops.
He employs his artificial tears with reckless abandon.
A good gift idea for his daughter…
Two other children miss their father as well.
He has been estranged due to unfortunate circumstances.
Enough baggage to claim life
Even with his complexes
With mint-mental ability
Soul tight kung-fu reflexes
Moral catlike agility
At home, his very own mother
Belittles him amongst siblings
Reputed to be a worthless son and
Dead beat dad
As strangers look him in the face and
Negatively judge…
Eyes roll as their teeth lie…
Normal individuals with
Perfectly normal complexities
Ironically riddled with the same complexity,
Accept his complex
Rationalized by outright awareness
In this society, we all are subject to change.
That’s fancy for lie.
Lie about normal now and again
Today find normal
Just out of arms reach
Tomorrow find perfect
Becoming normal, as equals
Normal is presumed to be a base lined standard.
In the middle
Normal!
For crying out loud!
You’re not normal?
For crying out loud!
Perfect is impossible?
For crying out loud!
Lie about your true self and that you are.
Why?
Normal becomes perfectly inadequate by direct perception
Intentionally designated
It is unlawful to partake in normal activities.
Frowned upon
Too much hype involved with perfection and
The illusions we all are creating.
Illusions that we all create
Equally created in, when
Born into this world without a choice
Thereafter we are gifted with free will
The ultimate inheritance of choice
A perfectly normal, everyday blessing
New life and
A normally imperfect negative latter
In death
Life’s ultimate paradox
The almighty enabler of self doubt and conspicuous minds
Trust that we so freely lend out
In our early years; youth
Trusted belief, inevitably broken
By none other than our dearly beloved
Mom and Dad directly lie to our faces
Brothers’ and sisters’ join in and
Lie… Lie… Lie…
Worse than he had ever imagined as
This innocent trust is top of the line.
An irreplaceable quality of man and
Man strips away belief from man;
Every single perfectly normal day
This man who lives with his mother
And loves his daughter
He will inevitably break her little heart too.
Paper thin differences, as he is only separated by
His conscious awareness of such reality
Dust pools from within his eyes as artificial tears
Are bone dry and money is hard to come by
Poverty drives this man, nearly to the edge…
Suicidal and guilt stricken
He cannot take his pitiful life away
From that little girl
She is the miracle of hope this man needs
One man alone, is incapable of trudging
Through the sands of
This let down life
At least
Not without reason(s) to find his;
The courage to provide
Always and forever,
Hope remains
Within
One of you;
Or maybe two
That
One fine day
He just may
Rise
Above
It
To
Make dreams come true
-6-13-16-
Copyright © Ir0nic ZiNk | Year Posted 2016
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Spirited knights from a long ago age
Were transported to this century
Seeing as they had no foe to engage
They moped around aimlessly
Before their doldrums turned to rage
They sought out a job agency
That would strive to find them a good wage
Due to the knight’s urgency
But the hitch in this new age fable
Of which this story is based
Was the shocking headhunter’s cable
That proposed jobs in hazardous waste
It seemed they’d be worth their mettle
So their talent agent thought
Since they sported all that metal
Punctures would be less than naught
As their first foray in this career
Was not what they beseeched
Since hospitals for these cavaliers
Contained a plank with a leech
But they learned to remove harmful gear
Plus organs the size of a peach
And swabs and gloves and what others fear
Like sharps washed upon the beach
One day Galahad’s nose turned runny
Because his health turned frail
Yet what happened wasn’t too funny
When a needle slipped inside his mail
He cried out to his god
I think I’ve reached the end
There’s a germ infested rod
Dispensed in my rear end
Oh, for crying out loud
Yelled Lancelot to his friend
Stop acting so highbrowed
That little prick will surely mend
Yet while the knights gathered around
To strip Galahad’s chain link
They loudly sang to drown the sound
As that knight put up a stink
So the moral of this fable is
That lands on the other side
Albeit fences or era’s ‘tis
Not always greener far and wide
3/10/14
For Francine's Tickle My Funny Bone contest
Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2014
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I was in bed the other night, sound asleep, when I was suddenly, awoken up.
Lo and Behold, there within my bed, I was covered by frogs, which had hiccups.
Now I wish this were a dream you know, as my eyes grew to, beyond saucer size.
I love my little forest friends, but these are the Weird FROGS, for crying out loud!
With a fear of moving, I gently ask, why they did partake, to join us in our bed.
All I got was closer snuggles, plus more hiccups, as they tried to hop, upon my head.
Enough’s enough, I did decide, as I gently pushed them over to my Hubby’s side.
I got up, turned on the light, and settled them down, as to my hubby, they did confide.
They said, monsters had chased them all around, until safety, they were bound.
Real monsters are here, and there, and everywhere, there’s Zombies all around!
Now, the Penguins and Dragon had been allowed a sleep over, just this very night.
I had allowed them all a TV with PG rated movies, which would certainly, be all right.
But Dragon wanted better one’s, so he stole into my older son’s collection, in his room.
In Dragon’s Lair, a party had gone on, with Zombie movies scattered, to his doom.
Before us, all the penguins had Zombie get up on, as they laughed at what they’d done.
But our weird frogs had been scared half to death, this had not been a good type of fun.
Bullies have no place in my house, so I addressed this, in a determined and clear tone.
They had to apologize to our weird frogs, before they took them all the way, back home.
It seems, the Weird frogs had called the penguins Barbarians, while we were at the Zoo.
But one thoughtless act, does not allow a second one, getting even is not the way to do.
So both had to suck in their hurt, and finally admit to their own terrible mistakes.
That’s when the party really began, as new and lasting friendships were finally made.
For a week they played together on the shore, of our beautiful lake, in lots of fun games.
And the only Zombies on the Loose, to be found, were playful silly costume things.
Written on a nightmarish, mostly sleepless night 7-2-2013
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013
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Thoughts by a Horse Owner
A farmer milks a cow for all it’s worth …but
a horse milks a farmer for all he’s worth!
Horses are an expensive proposition to say the least.
Try lavishing your love on another beast.
When you look upon a star and make a wish,
much cheaper to try for a goldfish.
But if you can’t afford it
when your dream comes true,
just flush it down the loo.
Or if you’re into recycling, eat the little guy…
And for crying out loud,
quit wishing towards the sky!
Answer to Doris Culverhouse’s invite for a silly poem.
There you go Doris! : ) ...(but I mean it!)
Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2012
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It's been four years since I've seen so much as an insignificant mountain creek. I've been overburdened with comfort, now frantic with nature withdrawals and having to settle for photos found on Google Images: emerald pine trees, blue jays on limbs, moonlight cutting through forests, lakes the color of Windexed glass. It's much like drinking water that's been doused with Crystal Light; you feel yourself becoming hydrated, when in reality it's only satiating your thirst temporarily. So you can imagine my joy when my best friend called me up to break the news:
"Monica, Brandon, Joel and I are gonna go backpacking. Care to join?"
the finality
of a cell hitting the floor -
shoe tying
Like a bunch of sardines packed in a can on wheels, we headed out to beautiful Cascade: the place where the Idahoan mountains aren't just paintings from afar, but close enough to taste. We weave our way through the spiderweb of dirt trails, as we each take turns changing songs on Joel's iPod. It's my go and I'm searching through the John Denver list, mourning the fact that there's over a hundred songs by him, and not one of them is Colorado Rocky Mountain High (the one song I could say fit my feelings to a tee). The menagerie of everyone's taste in music made for an interesting trip no doubt - even if Jonathan picked the worst possible jams simply for annoyances sake.
My first peculiar observation:
Humans have been making calendars for thousands of years - the first being more akin to cave drawings and stone tablets than paper - but as long as all that has been going on, the mountains don't care that August is expected to be sultry or that November is expected to be chilly. Because June was taking her first baby steps with a stubborn December mindset - a meandering way to say it was cold enough to freeze your nads off. The five foot mounds of snow made it all the more comical the fact I was wearing plaid shorts. Mother Nature wasn't going to be kind, I could tell.
like turtles
struggling to stand -
our packs full of crockery
It was breezy at first. We would practically glide down the mountain side, using our backpacks as a counter balance. The snowy counterpart to kangaroos, we were. The glistening flakes were thick enough to snowboard down - granted I never touched a snowboard, let alone ridden one. But after seeing this it gives me ideas ...
Monica smiled for the camera as I fumbled for my iPhone, a smile that didn't even require the forcible Say Cheese! nonsense. It wasn't waiting for the camera flash, but the other way around. Now you might be calling that rather pathetic, but I brought my iPhone along simply for the function of capturing memories. Angry Birds just don't compare to the real ones, sweet with lilting songs.
My second peculiar observation:
Google Images is an absolute horrid plagiarist; some beauty just can't be encapsulated despite all our advances in high-def technology.
The downward slope finally leveled out a bit, if only for a few minutes. Truth be told, the path never stopped declining - some routes were simply more apparent than others. Our group of five walked single file through the trees, all basing our faith that Joel (a person who has been to the site once when the trail WASN'T covered in snow) would lead us in the right direction. And here's another interesting fact: this was no official trail, but a hike through the purest of adventures, unpredictable and unreliable.
crushing pine needles
with un-gloved fingers -
rivers beneath the snow
The first time my whole leg collapsed into the fragile surface of the snow made me realize just how far above the dirt I was walking. I'd ask Brandon for assistance with a beet red blush on my cheeks - I blamed it on my fair skin falling victim to the sunny day. From then on out I tiptoed with exaggerated caution, my heavy pack helping me just as much as it was hindering me, for even a foot drop had to be taken with a grain of salt. Everyone had to adjust to the added weight (except for Monica, with her light load of a sleeping bag and nothing else). I'd very ungracefully glide through twigs and pesky low branches, oblivious to my bare legs. In all honesty the cold didn't get to me, just the scratches of neighboring trees is where my concerns lied. At anytime I could have stopped the whole gang, beaming: "Wait a spell and let me put on some pants for crying out loud!" Of course that never happened. My clothes were in the bottom of my pack, and I was nowhere near desperate enough to monkey around with that sorry mess.
slick slates
slanting down the cliff edge -
helping hands
Joel, with his redneck stubble, beams up at me: "Every hiking trip needs a little bit of adventure, don't rush it by any means!" That's the last thing on my mind - the first is whether or not that rock I'm about to put my weight on is as stable as she looks. It's a very roundabout route, and as questionable as it is, it's safer by a long shot than the first path we took - call it a 103 degree wall.
NOTE: Continued in Part 2 ...
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
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She Won't Let Me Go
She won't let me go to church choir practice;
Sound like that I'm sitting on a thorny cactus,
And every time when I will moan and groan
She wants to leave me at home all alone.
She sings great paired up with Bob the tenor
Who is thinner and never has been a sinner;
God, mellow both of their voices did make,
Mine, windows and whole world would shake.
For crying out loud my voice became so bad
While singing had started a brand new fad;
If you could buy me one more case of beer
My deadly voice into space does disappear.
So you know what my new motto now may be;
When you buy beer and give it out for free
For me will be beginning of a new career;
Have no fear Horn is here with more beer.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
www.poetrysoup.com
PS. And now this final situation I have to face;
Intended on sending another in the first place,
And category of sick according to latest skinny
Is what to people this probably may be to many.
PSS. I will be reading this poem at next Poetry
Revisited Poetry Recital on 2d week of the month
at Arbor Landing in Shallotte, NC. When I do, I
am going to have everyone stand up and hold
their hands on their sides to support all of the
laughing they are gonna be doing. Jim Horn
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2015
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I am the eyes of the poor
Hungry and searching for more
They look on in awe
Of the wonders of beauty that surrounds them
But fails to embrace
I would give what I had
To make the feeling of worth come back
And the eyes shine
Once again
But giving material possessions
Would only help for awhile
To teach something new
Get a spark and a smile
And loving the intricate style
That makes us all individually unique
So I speak with compassion and say
In humanity there's got to be a way
To get past the human condition
And give all of ourselves
author note:
I went to 3 major cities, in 6 monthes time. I guess I was looking to appreciate what I had.
I have done alot of work with homelessness in the United States, so, I became that way myself.
My second month there, a man gave me a ride to the newspaper office where I was doing a little freelance. We talked along the way. It was nice since that day I was carrying my briefcase (that is my portfolio) weighing atleast 20 pounds.
He said that he had a son, that was into art. He wants to be a writer also. He asked if there was any advice that I could give. I smiled and said well, I would keep a regular job. If there's anything he is interested in, I'd have him do that, but if he keeps going back to writing, and he cannot quit. If it inspires him, makes him happy and that becomes his career. You'll know.
All writers I know are kind of different in one respect or another.
He began to laugh.
This verse may just be a few simple words, but they are penned from my gut.
It would have been nice to just sit and drink tea, for crying out loud, with a fellow writer that I dearly love with ALL of my heart and soul. Life...just gotta live it.
Copyright © Cindy Lu | Year Posted 2013
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In England way back in the 18th century
“Pants” was considered a bad word
Probably coz it sounds like heavy breathing
In bedrooms it could often be heard
Ernest Wright once wrote a whole novel
Without using the letter “e”
Here's a question I'd sure like to ask
Which mental institution lives he
In Tennessee it's actually against the law
To drive your car while sleeping
Well how about that my P-Soup friends
But you can with one eye peeping
Columbus' fee for discovering America
Was a paltry three hundred dollar
If that was today for crying out loud
He'd be living in absolute squalor
Hard to believe Baskin Robbins once made
Ketchup flavoured ice cream, holy crap
Needless to say it wasn't too successful
It melted on burgers, imagine that
Your thumb is the same length as you nose
So nosey people have extra long thumbs
That surely explains why you see some people
With their thumb stuck up their bum
Each year Americans eat 12 billion bananas
I eat probably one billion myself
Okay that's quite an erroneous statement
It's french fries that endanger my health
Did you know butterflies taste with their feet
Imagine if us humans did that
Phew! Stinky poo... I'd swear off eating
And be skinny as an underweight gnat
Parrots are as intelligent as a five year old child
Know friends where that surely applies
They have this really overwhelming urge
To poop on your head flying by
© Jack Ellison 2013
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013
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taken away from my belongings,
forgive me for crying out loud,
I am the one to fight back not to quite
.
I am not about to go back my future is ahead not behind,
I resign my self to you God, please help me out.
I am done crying , I am hoping for batter things,
batter friends and future.
I am here alone fighting for my resurrection, lord I am your servant.
I surrender to you now
Copyright © Busani Zuma | Year Posted 2016
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I've been allergic to beauty
For 35 years
In a series of diphenhydramine dreams.
Spring stings
And all of these tears
Are wearily ripening in-between screams.
The flowers look so happy,
I can barely see them.
Oh, yellowish green
Cognitive haze.
Cloaking my brain
For a mighty good reason,
These trees are sappily
In love with my pain.
On solid screen doors
The taraxacum tours
My squalid green corps
Is sincerely yours,
I'm so dissociative
That I can be you,
And this hell is
As cool as life,
It's hard to live
But whenever I do
I'm just as well as
Wherever I might.
For crying out loud
For crying at all,
I'll eat the pollen
Until the fall.
Copyright © Lxnnnie Rutledzh | Year Posted 2016
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I’ve always been a happy kid.
That’s what I tell people, and that’s what I am.
I have a d*mn good life,
But either way, everyone has their issues.
i’m pretty bad with people
well, actually, i’m terrible.
i’m the type of person that can make you uncomfortable with just a simple “hello”.
It’s always been a somewhat sore spot of mine.
My siblings are fantastic with people.
My brother was the homecoming king for crying out loud.
No matter the person, they always have something to talk about.
i’m just not like that.
i’ve always felt like a disappointment because of this.
My parents joke about it,
But they’ve always wanted me to be just a little move involved and outgoing.
i’m like that one dog at the dog park that just sits off the trail wagging its tail,
But fails to actually interact with any other dogs.
i love to be with new people;
i’m just not very good at it.
It hurts to see the look on my parents’ faces every time that they introduce me to a family friend.
It hurts when the conversation just stops,
When they turn the other way to talk to other people or ask my sister another question.
It hurts to feel my dad’s smile nudging my shoulder, pushing me along, like
“C’mon, talk. You can do it.”
It hurts knowing that they won’t just say it.
i’m a disappointment, and they’ll do just about anything but admit it.
i’ve never really been into the “Beauchamp” type subjects.
Sure, i’m pretty good at math and science, but i love to write.
i love to play the drums,
And i love to do just about everything that’ll land me right back at their front door the day i graduate college.
My biggest fear isn’t that i’ll follow my dreams and fail.
It’s that i’ll never really find my dreams.
i’m not that passionate about much.
My inspiration comes in bursts.
i always have answers to feed people when they ask me what i want to be.
Do i want to become an engineer like my sister?
Or a doctor like my brother.
“i want to be either a writer or an editor of some sort”.
What happens if i wake up one day and just don’t?
What happens if i’ve been feeding myself the same dreams for so long that they’re dead by the time the reach my malnourished mouth?
What happens then?
Do i move back in?
Do i become that weird aunt that just hangs around the house?
God, i’m so f*cking worried all the time.
But, aside from my worries, I’ve always been a happy kid.
That’s what I tell people, and that’s what I am.
I have a d*mn good life,
As long as I'm not comparing myself.
Copyright © Maren Beauchamp | Year Posted 2016
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Note: To the tune of "Little Drummer Boy"
Come, they sold me, to Macy’s this year
The perfect gifts await for holiday cheer
I’ll push and shove my way through the crowd
Cuss if I don’t succeed, for crying out loud
Stomp on feet of shoppers with my heels
Clear a path to line's front as everyone reels
Bent o’er in pain they grouse, “Who is this cruel witch?”
And I scream back to them in a very high pitch
To reach fine gifts I create travesty
Then single-handedly grab the last Nativity
Baby Jesus is smiling at me
What have I done to find Thee
Done to find Thee
Sadly, I glimpse back at those I’ve attacked
And hand the manger scene to one farther back
The truest gift we find is not on the shelves
We’ll never find this gift within our lost selves
If we forget to share the holiday joys
With shopping schemes and ill-conceived ploys
Make way for kinder shoppers courteously
To find the greatest gift called humanity
Just leave the shops behind and visit your church
And bow before His grace from the pew as you perch
Baby Jesus is smiling at me
For now I’ve found Thee
Now I’ve found Thee
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009
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For crying out loud
Pay first.You are not what
I desire
Copyright © Pheko Motaung | Year Posted 2016
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Marshmallow dreams, puffy white clouds
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
Get back to reality for crying out loud
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
Peace on the planet, first time in history
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
Reason you're acting like this is a mystery
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
People loving people no matter their race
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
Got a big smirk on this time weathered face
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
Republicans and Democrats agreeing on stuff
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
Totally blown away sitting here in the buff
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
Now hang on a minute, there must be a way
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
Though men have failed forever and a day
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
Call me a dreamer, there's hope in my heart
Whatcha bin smokin' boy
Let's all set our sights on a shiny new start
Start smokin' peace and joy!
© Jack Ellison 2012
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2012
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Enough of this frigid weather already
It's March for crying out loud
Time for the temps to start moderating methinks
It's not civil and shouldn't be allowed
When the hell is spring supposed to arrive
It's just around which corner, I ask
It's long overdue, it's stressing us guys out
Want to lie on a deck chair and bask
Us Canadian fellows are a hardy bunch
We sometimes don't wear a hat
When temperature dip to minus forty-five
We go out for a stroll, how bout that
Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a wee bit
Minus twenty is a more like it, ahem
Still frigid enough to freeze the balls off a statue
Of Laurier, our seventh PM
We WILL survive, us guys always do
We're made of some pretty tough stuff
But give me a break, this is way too damn cold
Enough, is enough, is enough!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014
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We have so many role models in society.
You can choose from so many with such a different variety.
There are musicians, writers, actors, athletes, and so many more out there.
But the people we choose today, I don't get, I swear.
Some of these people's minds must be playing hooky.
With all the great people out there some people choose Snooki.
We choose people just because they are millionaires.
It seems like in today's society nobody cares.
On facebook, Charles Manson has 20,000 friends.
I don't get these people or today's trends.
He was a cult leader and murder for crying out loud.
But a role model to some and they say it proud.
Some people say it is O.J. Simpson when he was a football player.
Okay, but now he is a murderer, but I won't be a naysayer.
There are so many more I don't understand, but I won't even bother.
I will just be puzzled and look up to mine, because mine is my father.
Copyright © Chris Matt | Year Posted 2011
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I'll meet you halfway
up in the sky
shes coming my way
oh my oh my
She smiles so bright
just like the sun
She makes me blind
I cant see around
And I've been found
Sort of a hopeless cause
For crying out loud
Im gonna win her love
For crying out loud
Im gonna win her love
She makes me crazy
but in a good way
Im being pulled by passion
No I cant stray
Cant think with ration
and I don't mind
that I ain't thinking
Oh my Oh my
And I've been found
Sort of a hopeless cause
For crying out loud
Im gonna win her love
For crying out loud
Im gonna win her love
She's got her noose
around my leg
by horses Im
Im.. being dragged
Im in the dirt
I roll around
I should be hurt
but I've found-
And I've been found
Sort of a hopeless cause
For crying out loud
Im gonna win her love
For crying out loud
Im gonna win her love
*after writing this song I found that to loose for love is the highest expression of love.
To win for love= honor, glory, and the girl.
To loose for love=nothing gained, you give up everything in love.
Copyright © Apache Tears | Year Posted 2014
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WHAT'S ON MY MIND
I have been looking for you
I've had so much on my mind
but I can see we're losing time
I've been needing to speak to you
but you are walking around acting confused
I know something isn't right
by the way you look tonight
all night long we have been dancing around
what it is we feel
I'm starting to feel very i'll
your eyes are playing games
everything is like an old sad song
I guess I will wait for the rain to come
for the right time to play along
you know I hate when you lie
so why even give it a try
so why don'y you just sit down
and hear me out
Please Don't sought
for crying out loud
as we step from across the room
I could see we have got lost
that made my heart to ponder
I even started hearing the thunder
the rain is pouring down
what we once had
somehow turned bad
Oh how that makes me so sad
what we've been going through
I can see why we are so confused
but I have been so abused by you
I even felt so used
what does my love mean to you?
Did I ever matter at all ?
where you just waiting for the fall ?
so why label us
why do you make a fuss about us?
I could picture it all
are love ended way before I even knew it
that was so unexpected
when you touched me and kissed me
my poor body aches
just the whole empty feeling
that you brought my way
I seen it all on your face
you have been playing your evil games
you been playing the town
meanwhile my feelings grow
I need more then you
I want to end this mess
I'm so tied of you messing with my head
the old emotional games
why rush to get home
why choose to take the risk
you ruined everything
what love has to bring
I wanted to love you
but your love was to much
it cut so deep
you always made me weep
I wanted to be near you
when your love was once sweet
but now I want to leave you
because all you do is make my heart bleed
not pretend what it is going on
but to face it and brace it
we had reached are end
the whole thing about us keeps me on search
for the good about us
but I didn't find a thing
I find myself hungring for love
but I come up empty handed
I don't know who you are
you are so evil and cold
standing infrunt of me so bold
my soul aches
Just the presence of you
eats away on my mind
my brain is overflowing
my pen inks out what it is I bleed
you are making me feel so insane
I wrote my pains
while you sigh in few of the lines
you read while you act as if you have no sight
you just know how to make me cry
Come sit down for a while
lets talk about us
I find myself probing for your love
but all I find on my heart
is the marks you left
you was once my love of the universe
but that love is no longer
what we had is now empty
all is left is the broken glass of our past
I am so alone and I find myself searching
for something more.
Poetic Judy Emery
Copyright © Judy Emery | Year Posted 2017
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Oh tiny tomatoes
I love you so!
I never thought
I'd ever grow
Enough to even
Make a salad
But there's a few
To inspire this ballad
The planting season
Is nearly passed
It seemed to come
And go so fast
I don't have much
Of a bumper crop
My plants they sway
They droop and drop
But there's enough
To make me proud
Don't have a green thumb
For crying out loud!
My neighbors do
They're country bumpkins
Perhaps I'll try
My luck with pumpkins
Copyright © Deb Wilson | Year Posted 2010
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Hey Richard, you
want to bring on the crazy?
You want to know
the craziest thing that
ever was done to anyone!
You want to know
the craziest thing
that happened to me?
Seriously? Nah, you
don't wanna know,
Do you? Really?
For crying out loud, why?!
With all the crazy
people running around
in this world,
You wanna know
what happened to ME?
You want me to confess
how I lost my wits?
How I once let
my guards down,
And got caught
in the down draft?
And got mired in a life
of mundane meandering?
And bludgeoned to my knees?
You want me to say all that
in front of everybody?
No, I don't think so!
Wait a minute!
You aRe Serious!
OK! OK!! Don't lose
your marbles, Man!
This is really THE
craziest idea of all!
Let me get this straight:
You want me to tell here
the craziest thing that
ever was done unto me?
Right?
Nah ... All right, OK!
But, it's only between
You and Me ................
.................................
I GOT MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!
Copyright © Abdul Malik | Year Posted 2013
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Nobody can prevent,all you can do for crying out loud
is join in its allowed.Allah ain't laughing.Ha Ha He
He.Every single signal of communication..Dangerous
like a bullet in the chamber.I am on am to fm
stereo;From digital,antenna,sattelite,also created HD
radio;I control ohms to make people say um.Day until
p.m.Each day I am if I wasn't why would I say I am.I have
no direction;I use every english word that I have
constructed.I use these commands at my selection.
Which gives my govt. the U.S.A. & I the biggest
erection.Never final. People should do a bowel
movement. I never throw in the white towel.I am after
the crown.All I ask is for is to form an original
thought. I faught and fought for a form of
thought.The f curse word is derived from forming.I wil get
laid,now a days,to hatch an egg.Unity= YoU aNd I
Tea;whY not add lemon plus milk; and also "Equal"
and/or "Splenda".Its slpendid that I precisely select
the price of products."Equals" I did and still do.Is
dictatorship all right with you? I ma(ke it h)appen I keep using a cue of clues to
lead you; to lueryou to whom is the #1 world leader. This sole controllers' soul is
sold on dvd's and cd's around the globe. I am used, misused, and abused.I
mention a mansion. I am so intelligent. I will pop a tent. Earth is my brain. Every
day before I wake I feel the power, I have explained I need a interview to show the
world my inner view. The world will maintain on how I feel. I control mother nature
so I wander maybe people could show me a sign of life, I take over the tv screen
and the reality scene. I will reproduce the same as before during this era of
errors until I am confronted. The world is insane, and I will reproduct at random
who fills the shoes of who did it before. But who cares, and/or who would take
action. All people do is believe and watch what I work hard to do. I am a ghost/
holy spirited person. This present tense. Is the future that I am physically in. My
supervision controlled environment. I am the creature that makes the future.
Copyright © Keith Jefferson | Year Posted 2006
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The fault finding Pertaining to thought Introspect do you think? As when thinking for crying out loud Are you rationing it? Object of thought judging for oneself How is it critical?
Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2015