Best Hocking Poems
For turning my eyes into shallow Pacific blues,
because nobody likes Chocolate.
For transforming the freckled clusterbomb on my face,
into baby skin smoothness!
Because freckles are humanity’s alleged worst enemy
and I refuse to allow my self-confidence to stay Pro-Activ.
Thank you, Photoshop
for giving me that liposuction I ALWAYS wanted
in less than 10 minutes!
Working out is BENEATH me!
And I’m too busy dating these "5 Guys".
Thank you for bathing me in your Black & White Fountain of Youth!
60 is the used 25!
I refuse attempts in removing this fallacy
crawling under my lifted eye sockets.
My wisdom wrinkles shall stay imploded under pretentious needle.
Otherwise, I can’t continue to be fed
flirtatious appetizers by horny sheeple
and bi-curious copycats
hocking hairballs at the sight
of my airbrushed collagen lips
while they dry hump my computer generated thighs.
Their retinas grope my artificially inflated Grand Canyons
which are really only peaked valleys.
Yet, they won’t look at my defaults…
So, I thank you Photoshop
for being unable
to crop my misery.
© Drake J. Eszes
"Dedicated to those who are unable to look within themselves." -D.J.E.
three incisor teeth burst through fresh flesh...
opaque as pearls, strong as love, precious
beautiful baby babbles assertively
mesmerized by mishmash sounds
that her astounding mouth can make
prose poetry in its practice
as canines erupt, she moans from the ache
teeter-tottering restless to repress pain
speedily advancing in substantial strength
distracted by oblivious destructiveness
a significant stepping stone approaches
as a capable kindergarten adult
she wiggles loose her first baby tooth
receives a rich reward from a fantasy fairy
more teeth disappear like pressed piano keys
then return acutely out of tune
braces displace awkward half grins
an investment of finances and adolescence
unstoppable with seducing sweets
she sneaks cuddly candy under covers
falling asleep with sugar plum dreams
not counting a few costly cavities
free-spirited, experimental teen
meets Christina on the street
samples compelling quartz crystal
returns for seconds, as someone else disguised
mesmerized by mishmash sounds
that her astounding mouth can make
speedily advancing in substantial strength
she lucently levitates to a loftier place
a magnificent mind babbles assertively
sweeping the streets of pixie dust
no need to eat or sleep
like a firefly in heat, she dances frantically
teeter-tottering restless to repress pain
distracted by oblivious destructiveness
she visualizes voices that vivify the way
to the day's salacious survival guide
prismic vision's shimmers no longer satisfy
cotton candy granules' sweetness subsides
coming down from kaleidoscopic clouds
half-awake, she moans from the ache
shrill shrieks portray poetry's unspoken pain
death's drab projection is her heartless reflection
hocking heirlooms to trade for a transient thrill
a despondent inhabitant of tragedy
creepy crawlers invade every inch of skin
her thin figure balances a skull's shadow
irretrievable, ill-treated teeth crumble
like the city's plundered storefront windows
filthy, for granted, forlorn, fast-fading
...three feeble canine teeth remain
10-8-2023
LESSON FROM CEDAR FALLS
A stream of water high above came to a rocky cliff,
Cascaded downward from the ledge, not once debating if
The flow should steer to right or left from a protrusion there,
But letting forces steer its way without a single care.
The fingers met on ledge below for one last final fall;
Into a quiet pool below they made their final call.
Their quick and separated fall was so like life, I found,
As from our lofty start we course our journey to the ground.
If we could let the Master steer and not debate the path,
The obstacles we fear the most we would so easily pass.
And just before that final drop into the pool of death
We’d see Him reach His gentle hand to catch our passing breath.
We’d make it safely to that pool of eternal rest and peace
If we would put our hand in His and all of self release.
This poem came from viewing this natural spectacle in Hocking Hills State Park, Ohio.
Like ostriches, politicians bury their heads
While homeless, starving families go unfed
Voters see the game, know how it's played
Upheaval awaits on election day
Say what? You're not registered to vote?
Then watch those special interests gloat
They'll gather allies, give 'em poll rides
A sad kiss goodbye, Democracy's demise
With broken links in freedom's chain
Politics will stay the same
Use your brain, don't refrain
Send incumbents down the drain
Socialism's come a knocking
Don't put your freedom up for hocking
Vote with me, brother, set the ship of state rocking
Say, "We're the free world; we'll take no mocking"
*Entry for the "Politically Educated" contest
*Sunny at Hocking Hills, Ohio*
There he goes!
Dashing across the prairie like a hound dog
He is a lightning bolt
He is a wonder
He is my small white dog full of energy
Galloping across the tall rye grass with not a care in the world
We come here to relax and collect our thoughts
We come here to remove ourselves of the pressures of the world
A log cabin, steaks, historical movies and our dog
Sunny is the child we never had between us
There he goes!
Dancing amidst the tulips and daffodils
That was a million years ago
And now our lives are so different
Sunny craves his time away from home too
Now he goes in the back yard chasing squirrels and birds
Howling at the first hint of their arrival
He’s my little mixed breed
He’s my little thunder
Watch out animals in our yard
He is on the prowl
This incessant barking
This incessant howling
I simply open the back door and Sunny goes to town!
Gwendolen Rix
8-29-14
Here in Central Ohio, when winter's chill descends,
We celebrate for twelve whole days, our Yuletide dividends.
Deep within the Buckeye land, where Aesculus genus grows,
We throw our hands up with delight as C-bus gifts enclose.
On the first day of the season, Columbus gave to me,
a Strader's Nursery conifer, scarlet and gray tree.
On the second day of the season, next to Scioto's run,
two bright red cardinals spread their wings and play beneath the sun.
On the third day of the season, in German Village quaint,
three bratwursts are a-sizzling, and we eat with no restraint.
On the fourth day of the season, beneath the Statehouse dome,
are four historic artifacts saying O-H-I-O's our home.
On the fifth day of the season, at Short North's gallery display,
we act like art professors while we drink our Beaujolais.
On the sixth day of the season, the Arena District's cheer,
six Jackets skate together playing in blue hockey gear.
On the seventh day of the season, at COSI's large expanse,
seven planets spin above our heads, and we join the cosmic dance.
On the eighth day of the season, at Hocking Hills so wild,
eight waterfalls cascading, are nature's art compiled.
On the ninth day of the season, in Dublin's Irish grace,
nine Celtic dancers stepping, puts a smile on every face.
On the tenth day of the season, within North Market Hall,
ten food booths are a-beckoning with salty-sweet enthrall.
On the eleventh day of the season, with carolers at the Zoo,
eleven million lights a-twinkling, we can see them from the Shoe!
On the twelfth day of the season, near Highbank's snowy scene,
twelve sleds they are a-sliding, adding to this winter dream.
In the heart call of Ohio, this season is our own,
With flourishing traditions and a spirit brightly shown.
The twelve whole days of Yuletide, and our region we adore,
In Buckeye state the holidays keep magic evermore.
"Fill 'er up?" The attendant asked GranDad while chewing on a wad of
bacca with the remnants of spittle on his chin just after hocking one.
"Naw... just give me 10 dollars worth. That'll be good, thank ya'."
"Ok." He said, "But it's miles 'fore the next gas stop. Better think about it."
GranDad rebutted, "Naw... I just need enough to take me down the road
To da' house. It don't take me twenty minutes to get there by foot."
"She 'bout broke down anyways. Don't want to waste my cash on 'er
if she can't take me where I want to go," GranDad said with a chuckle.
"So, just give me 10 dollars. That's all she's worth."
(Written 3 days before the family van was wrecked when we put $10 of gas in it.)
In Hands of Rich Are A Poor Pawn
From beginning at night until dawn,
We all have become a poor pawn;
Can you imagine someone hocking,
What was in their Christmas stocking.
For auction will put up wedding rings;
Many tears to their eyes this brings;
Allowance to children no longer give;
Such a sad way they do have to live.
Congress and President play their part;
Our military at home have broken heart;
And all that they still will have left to say;
To God every night and each day do pray.
God had motivated me to prepare this;
Not a word of it will want you to miss;
In many ways you may become scared;
There are those who have never cared.
Jim Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
Now forward this to all those who
can and will do something about
this terrible plight in our lives.
There was once, a woman named Rose
In briefs; she oft hankerd to pose
Hocking her food blender
She bought smalls, and suspenders'
To bounce onto a stage, i'd suppose?
You can't entice this mind of ice
leg locking , vice device stalking
full aware of the ware's your hocking
digging for gold with hook and chisel
i'll put the fizzle in your sizzle
flame you out without a doubt
i'll show you what i'm all about
Think your clever unaware of never
ain't happenin' bytch this losing endeavor
i'll pimp your pimp and then your mother
and then that pimp if he's your other
you read the wrong book now you got took
your chapter and verse will be your hearse
Slow road to lonely , just another trick cloning
the same 'ole shyt and still a phoney
money hugging , cheese grubbing
rat in disquise and o-h I dispise
the way you smile and make your play
believin' your charms will make me stay
Your just the Beast with many mask's
real strength is what you lack
you wait until I turn my back
and then attempt your lame attack
Look me in the eye you Beastly bytch
then we'll play your bait and switch
you outplayed yourself with this game your playing
now you're stuck and you'll be payin'................
If Trump wins...rest in peace - Mother of Freedom
Post mortem courtesy
Doctor Demento yielded
Lady Liberty lies slain...
videre licet knocked senseless
from brutal blows upon her crown
simultaneously shouldering existential crisis
triggered nervous breakdown
though rendered mute
sound of silence doth expound.
Forsooth impeachment hearings
rendered him immune
to chastisement, insurrection
he did foment, blithely
skirting impairment appertain
blood on hands of
self important president,
though alcohol he doth abstain,
nonetheless permanent drunken stupor
doth wax and wain
finger of guilt
damaging democracy points
to him as chief villain
groomed since... time immemorial
atavistic primate brain
bathed (courtesy Frederick Christ Trump)
buzzfeeding chosen favored heir
go for broke – as a red badge of courage
bankrupt countless times
and pulled out all stops,
viz unbridled thundering,
espousing philosophy gain
amass wealth, unscrupulous
if necessary where,
might equals right cold play'n
deadly serious game (Life) train
sight squarely and/or roundly
scattered lovely bones
amidst tombstones testimony
incidental secondary fallout main
part and parcel, where legerdemain,
plus art of the deal linkedin
with immeasurable gloating
ego necessary to gain
con fetter writ oligarchy plain
successfully cheating, hocking,
milking, quaffing, and trending,
yielding dynastic rule
trumpeting eternal and carnal
stormy Daniels reign
vaping with wealthy
zealotry (think vain)
at electorate expense
tampering koolaid acid test
courtesy illegals sown GMO grain
colluding when/where possible,
never losing sight regarding
selfish mission to attain
obligatory ideal tyranny
rampantly running roughshod,
no need to explain
writing sleight underhanded profane
antithetical, critical, heretical quatrain
badgering, belittling, besmirching,
bilking, boasting, bragging with disdain
flagrantly flaunting, fleecing,
regarding purported B.S. degree
in economics he did attain
matriculating Wharton School of law,
hmm... methinks he paid
hireling from Ukraine
forever flirting, flouting, and flunking
even basic geography questions
case in point being
where is Drury Lane
additionally, he ain't
no literati familiar
storied quasi fiction Citizen Kane.
Forsooth impeachment hearings appertain
blood on hands of
self important president,
though alcohol he doth abstain,
nonetheless permanent drunken stupor
doth wax and wain
finger of guilt
damaging democracy points
to him as chief villain
groomed since... time immemorial
atavistic primate brain
bathed (courtesy Frederick Christ Trump)
buzzfeeding chosen favored heir
go for broke - bankrupt countless times
and pulled out all stops,
viz unbridled espousing philosophy gain
amass wealth, unscrupulous
if necessary where,
might equals right play'n
deadly serious game (Life) train
sight squarely and/or roundly
scattered lovely bones
amidst tombstones testimony
incidental secondary fallout main
part and parcel, where legerdemain,
plus art of the deal linkedin
with immeasurable gloating
ego necessary to gain
con fetter writ oligarchy plain
successfully cheating, hocking,
milking, quaffing, and trending,
yielding dynastic rule
trumpeting eternal stormy reign
vaping with wealthy
zealotry (think vain)
at electorate expense
tampering koolaid acid test
courtesy illegals sown GMO grain
colluding when/where possible,
never losing sight regarding
selfish mission to attain
obligatory ideal tyranny
rampantly running roughshod,
no need to explain
writing sleight underhanded profane
antithetical, critical, heretical quatrain
badgering, belittling, besmirching,
bilking, boasting, bragging with disdain
flagrantly flaunting, fleecing,
regarding purported B.S. degree
in economics he did attain
matriculating Wharton School of law,
hmm... methinks he paid
hirling from Ukraine
forever flirting, flouting, and flunking
even basic geography questions
case in point being where is Drury Lane
additionally, he ain't no literati familiar
storied quasi fiction Citizen Kane.
They tell you what to love,
and who to hate
Their EM waves
dictate
when to have feelings of
disdain cut-rate
Callousness is the mental diss-ease
that permeates the air —
Pharaoh moans ...
toxic fumes of vapor crossbones,
they Caesar Palace dicey sell
Mood marketers
always swill toga do,
owe so pyramid scheme well
Create your con-sumer reality
with jingo slogans
as the purchase item guide
Ad hocking violent buy-products,
guaranteed to keep
your gunpowder tears dry
Sob heavy metal tales
of forged wails
is the pitchfork tongue cry
They tell you what to hate,
and who to love
Bend the knee,
profess unwavering loyalty
To the money sign satellite
passing up above
Feel free to
empty inventory please
those remote control, Mood marketers
Let the gold chain ticket stub
be the glass ceiling snub
worth of
your commercial existence
Nil grieve to
never promissory leave
the debt dole, repo soul carpetbaggers
young man
hocking guitar
to get home
Like a hypnotized maniac
on quaaludes and Prozac
still trying desperately
to get back to the nineties
17 not 19
still dreaming and
scheming to find a way
to become their great grandparents
like back in the olden days
when everybody had to
do it their way or the highway
They don’t care if he’s in jail
they’ll run out and pay his bail
with the money that they stole
when they didn’t pay their taxes
while he relaxes in his hotel
hocking anything
he can sell or trade for
another Russian wife
because he’s spent all his life
using everybody’s money but his own
Meanwhile back on the white toilet throne
the other one mumbles and bumbles
till the press is all gone
then smells his wife’s hair
before eating his pablum and
falling asleep in his chair and not
waking up until dawn
wondering what went on
while he shuffled across the lawn
saying, I’ll work with you
if you want to do it my way
cause that’s how we did it
back in my day
back in the nineties
that’s still 17 not 19
What choice do we have
but to vote for this one or that
because everyone else
has moved along
to take jobs as some corporate
schlong or just staying at home
to live off the books they
write about someone else’s
troubles and never their own
till their cover is blown
and the truth is revealed
about how they squealed
like a little piggie while
being delivered
to the altar stone.
But it will not get any better if
we stick our heads in the sand
at some point, we must all make
a stand and say damn
enough is enough
it’s getting too rough
besides, with your head down,
you’ll just get another kick in the ass