Best Had Better Poems
Scrubbing Bubbles, Dreft, Life Buoy, and Shout.
Help me to get my greasy grimy out.
Irish Spring, Dove, Windex, Borax too,
I turn to them when I am blue.
Cleaning is something I resolve not to do
unless I am in the throes of a horrible boo-hoo.
Clorox, Borax, Tide, Dawn, and Ajax too.
They only come out when I am mad at you.
If you see the Pledge, you had better run.
If I bring out the Zest, for you it is not going to be fun.
If you see Old English you know you are a cad.
Because I only clean like this when I am truly really mad.
Or if company is coming, which is only two or three times a year.
Where are you going,- as I reach for the Tide - afraid of me, dear?
let's take a look at the beginning
wen the matters in your heart mattered to u alone
wen like BoB b4 Airplanes u wer unknown
wen the pp u had on speed dial wldn pick up e fone
n u hid the tears that only u knew wer dripping
fast forward to the here n now
to the thunderous applause u hear wen u take a bow
to the microphones that flood u to hear u speak
to how ur opinions r published week after week
who wlda thot that dis was all id take
a lil fame a lil fortune wit only jus ur soul at stake
sometimes wen the champagne wears n its quiet out
those lil flashbulbs tha go on n off its cald doubt
u knw that maybe dis lyf aint so cool
its got u dancn to their whims like okomfo anokye for the golden stool
n honestly hon who u tryna fool
so uv got mags writng down ur salad makn tips
n women lust afta ur collagen fild lips
u knw ur worth more han wat uv become
but u kip lyn to urself tha wats ben dun is dun
but we both know hon..it's only just begun...
let's take a look at the beginning
wen the matters in your heart mattered to u alone
wen like BoB b4 Airplanes u wer unknown
wen the pp u had on speed dial wldn pick up e fone
n u hid the tears that only u knew wer dripping
fast forward to the here n now
to the thunderous applause u hear wen u take a bow
to the microphones that flood u to hear u speak
to how ur opinions r published week after week
who wlda thot that dis was all id take
a lil fame a lil fortune wit only jus ur soul at stake
sometimes wen the champagne wears n its quiet out
those lil flashbulbs tha go on n off its cald doubt
u knw that maybe dis lyf aint so cool
its got u dancn to their whims like okomfo anokye for the golden stool
n honestly hon who u tryna fool
so uv got mags writng down ur salad makn tips
n women lust afta ur collagen fild lips
u knw ur worth more han wat uv become
but u kip lyn to urself tha wats ben dun is dun
but we both know hon..it's only just begun...
A poem without a comment
Like a nun without a convent
All alone in the world
Inadequacy unfurled
YOU HAD BETTER FIX THAT CRUCIFIX
I’m sitting in McDonald’s at a tiny table all alone
Just staring at an inanimate and silent cell phone
I ordered a coke and two fries in case she shows up and that’s something she may need
Any more food than that would be the epitome of greed
It’s not often I can partake or rest in a restaurant with five stars
I figure the b**ch will try me on the phone in far too many bars
so I know with surety it probably will not ring
Because both of us have heard repeatedly the same old thing
As crowds pass by men swear she’s starshine incarnate
As cloistered and cloudy day women glare at her with hate
And that only describes half of her charm in and outside my lover
Yet when she sees an upside crucifix in my eyes she’s learned to run for cover
A bushel of bartenders know her by name and by her beautiful face
Behind my back these traitors would call her to drive me home just in case
It seems the law frowns on people driving twice the legal limit in every state
And for me temptation, torture and treachery shall never abate
My lover is a kind and accepting emergency room nurse
Yet all day long she thinks I am her caustic curse
She feeds me and gives me a roof over my head
I share her couch, her divan and especially her bed
Out of the ether I saw a fog and then some beauty oiled forth
It was my lover telling me I should stay down here and she’s headed up north
I suppose it’s better she and I split rather than living two separate lies
But s**t, I wouldn’t have wasted money on ordering two sides of fries
© 2011.…Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
Mr. Cheetah’s wife was yelling “Give him a ticket! Give him a ticket!”
He outraced two pickup trucks and an antelope down in the thicket.
The highway patrolman was on the chase immediately, ready to write.
Hurry! electronic dashboard said. In a second he will be out of sight!
He'll run seventy miles an hour, robotic voice said in a persnickety way.
You’d best give chase in the most enthusiastic, exuberant way!
Highway patrolman, had heard of cheetahs racing, but this was new.
He'd never tried to outrun one in a car, he swore the air black and blue.
Cheetah had now been joined by a friend who gave Zeke the eye.
He wondered how many others in their clan would be running on by.
He put on his siren and made as much noise as he could to stop them.
You had better stop! His wife cautioned her husband. Her face grim.
Cheetah stopped suddenly, and waited for his ticket to be written out.
That the other cheetah had made him do this, Zeke had little doubt.
She was gloating in a way that the patrolman had seen in his own life.
I’ll be snickerpackered, he said to himself. I guess she is his wife!
Love Had Better be Consuming
Written: by Tom Wright
March 2015
Where once, life was in living color,
Remaining unexpended on the palette,
Are hues of blacks and gray.
Not many moments existed
With an intimation of excitement and passion;
Perhaps too little was conferred;
or too much anticipated.
Obscure, from others,
Were the struggles, the stress, the scars, and pain;
Now most sought is a little peace;
An interruption from an exercise in futility;
I’ve had my share of Pitiless times from years gone before.
Most have dragged my bleeding knees over life’s dirty floors.
I’ve got scars decorating my body that still cause me pain,
and hundreds lie beneath the surface that batter my feeble brain.
My hide still bears contusions that took me down another peg.
I’ve had busted lips, sore feet, and at least one broken leg.
I can count lost love affairs that left my heart in a twist, even with those trials and troubles, they were better days than this.
I was bit by a rabid dog and scratched by a hissing cat,
slapped by trashy women, and oodles of “This and That’s.”
I’ve been embarrassed numerus times, through no fault of my own,
and all the times I dodged jail have long sense come and gone.
I hate to cry on the shoulders of strangers that I’ve never met.
Yet, friends that I could make a plea, got their reasons to cry and fret.
I’ve played my part with shady actors chasing life’s busy bucket list.
But even traveling those hard roads were better days than this.
I’ve cried tears many a time when ole Hank sang the blues.
And a piece of friendly advice, is something I can use.
I ‘ve heard songs that jerked tears, and I can sing mine to share,
for the scratches on this record run deep that time can never repair.
So, tell your stories of good times and talk of fortune and fame.
Ride the rails on the winning ticket, set high on the golden train,
fly first class on your fantasy trip, take pictures and reminisce,
but I’m riding in the pockets of a clown, I’ve had better days than this.
They came for the ones who floated in on streamers.
I did not care, they weren’t relatives or anything.
Then the soldiers came for the polka dotted ashtinglers.
I was never fond of them, so I ignored their screams.
When they came to take away the marshmonitors, I almost stepped in.
But they had guns and bayonets, and they were brutal.
When you are living in a dictatorship, you learn there is no freedom of speech.
I kept quiet.
They took my favorite neighbors, the Ashwanders on Tuesday night.
I heard Mr. A screaming for the rest of us to help him.
I thought if I kept my mouth shut, I would be safe.
I was wrong.