Best In Hock Poems
Carolyn Devonshire
Sunny day golden locks
Friends till the end or in hock
Cheery jewels and holly socks
Entertain us with your verse
Until they take us away in a hearse
Poetess the mostest and a lovely hostess
Holiday with a snowflake princess
Thank you for my lovely cheering wishes
Surprised me into a better day!!
Being Sold Down the River?
Near 80 years ago it has been
Another Jerk wanted to make his country great again
America first has been used before
It was a commie ploy to keep the U.S. out of the War
Over 6 million Jews were gassed or shot
Who’s going to end up in his burial plot?
Both started out with the same trend
Replace everyone with family and friend
They will do and say anything for power
This one wants to rule from his Ivory Tower
Don’t worry about fighting with the NRA
He will make sure there’s nothing to take away
We are being sold out by being in his trance
Wakeup or learn that funny little Russian dance
Take your money and buy Vodka stock
That way you might not be in hock
Learn to speak Russian and don’t fail
For I hear its cold in a Siberian jail
Keep your mouth shut and speak not
If you speak out, you could be shot
Elections will be no more
It doesn’t matter who you vote for.
2/28/2018
By: Sonny Roper a retired U.S. Navy military veteran
and moi (me)
Dear younger me,
There are some things that I would say
to help you out along the way:
mistakes I’ve made and deep regrets,
things I would change you’ve not seen yet.
Dear older me,
All that seems nice,
but let’s hold back on that advice.
It may be true,
but I’m not sure you’ve thought this through.
Dear younger me,
Are you for real? Surely you jest!
I’ve had more time, and I know best.
The cost was dear: real sweat and blood.
Why would you choose to traipse the mud?
Dear older me,
Wake up somehow!
I’m worried ‘bout my future now.
I’ve played this game to some degree;
did not see you in future me.
Dear younger me,
But I could share: go buy this stock,
lay off the booze, don’t go in hock.
Just stop and think of where you’d be;
The best part is, the lesson’s free.
Dear older me,
Great multiverse!
The situation’s getting worse!
Just hold your tongue and say no more
or I am headed out the door.
My future is not yours to share;
the way is fraught with danger there.
Dear younger me,
Now I’m confused; help an old man.
Explain this out; that’s if you can.
Dear older me,
I’ll do my best, but just so far,
for I’ll not go past where you are,
for much of what I know as true
might change if I change future you.
You hope to spare my heart the ache
and help me choose the path to take.
The problem is, when I arrive,
what you call you won’t be alive.
Decisions made all shape and mold
the man we are when we grow old.
Just think, if we had stayed in school
and not become a drunken fool,
would we have ever reached wit’s end
and learned the broken also mend?
Would we have met our lovely wife,
and settled in your present life?
Dear younger me,
Gouge out my eyes!
I’m blind and dumb and you are wise.
I had my doubt, but I can say
Let go, let God, we’ll be okay.
I'll be happy to be a leprechaun
That silly green hat will be worn.
If ye share yer pot of gold with me
A leprechaun I'll be happy to be.
I'll buy ye a pint of the black stuff
More if that's not enough
If ye give me a gold coin or three
A pint of the black stuff I'll buy ye.
I'll swear an oath on me shamrock
Put all I own in hock
If only ye will give me a share
On me shamrock an oath I'll swear.
I am Irish and from the emerald isle
That's a guarantee to make ye smile
Leprechaun grant me this one wish
From the emerald isle and I am Irish.
I'll drive you to Dublin's fair city
Where the girls are so pretty
You can have colcannon and stew
To Dublin's fair city i'll drive you.
Come home with me and vent yer spleen
Upon me very sweet Colleen
Then i'll escort ye to the infirmary
Vent yer spleen and come home with me.
Swap quantrains. Lets see what you've got.
Contest of Andrea Dietrich .
Listed as quantrain form.
Looking down upon the deed I find
The questions circling in my mind
Was there some choice I overlooked?
Some option hid or worse forsook?
My brothers now behind me stand,
and we proclaim a merry band!
Yet it’s the blood-soaked ground behind
That seems to fill my heavy mind.
We sought to change the status quo
Human nature was our foe
But you fought back as best you could
And never questioned if you should
I know through which eyes you saw
Hid behind bastions of law
We tried through politics first of course
Yet through trickery no recourse
You knew how the game was played
And for overconfidence you stayed
Demanding stays and motions served
Ignoring laments you claimed absurd
And so we tried to explain your quirk
To people indentured forced to work
To pay off debts taken in desperate need
Unable to know all was your deed
With numbers, charts and program code
To show them you had made their load
But too complex it failed to stick
Their worker’s minds were still too thick
And worse, far worse we found
You’d made your problem common ground
You funneled debt into bad loans
And hid your lies in people’s homes
Thus making the cost of your demise
The loss of a nation’s people most prized
The middle class, their homes in hock
The value fake, their lives in shock
If you went down you had made sure
Their fortunes would follow, a poison cure
And so you forced a government
To break it’s sacred sacrament
And here we are, smoke all around
And blood, sticky blood, upon the ground
And although inside I hold a sob
I cannot quit this awful job
I lift my gun, a heavy weight
To free our children from our fate
Brought U up 2 know right from WRONG
Was hard on U so you’d B STRONG
Looked up 1 day & U was GONE
Chasin Raw Dollaz, go getta getting ON
Somebody told me U got crossed at the SPOT
One drop of a dime & the Block got HOT
Held back my tears, got ova the SHOCK
Swallowed my fears, put my jewels in HOCK
I know at first it was done for ME
That’s why I come to set U FREE
So U may Repent B4 U enter a PLEA
Face the consequence multiplied by THREE
I got this feeling this may Be my DOIN
2 hard on U coulda lead to yo RUIN
My bad lil one I didn’t KNOW
I held so much love I failed to SHOW
U needed yo Momma, it makes me SAD
I worked all nite, neva knew yo DAD
But you’ll be A’ite, give it time you’ll SEE
It’z hard to admit but U a beast like ME
Datz why I accept U 4 who U ARE
A man, A Felon, My Sun, My STAR
I ain't surprised by anything I hear on the news nowadays!
The way the gov'mint is bein' run just leaves me in a daze!
This mornin' I heard another of Obama's schemes has gone sour!
Seems that this lulu will add more to China's balance of power!
His stim-scheme gave millions to the A123 Systems Company in Michigan,
To make batteries for hybrid autos - his much-touted transportation plan!
He boasted to workers that this would fuel the economy for years to come,
Yet, it seems the place has gone south and its operations will succumb!
'Tis well-known that we are in hock to the Chinese for a ton of bucks,
And here is the irony of the sorry scheme and a most important crux;
China is buying the place with our money - the whole kit and caboodle!
American taxpayers are left holding the bag - not worth a Chinese noodle!
You won't find this story on MSNBC, CNN or CBS - only on Fox News!
Other media will support Barak no matter what, spewing their biased views!
Hey! That's our hard-earned tax money you're blowin' Barak Hussein!
Are you gonna cut your wasteful spendin'? We're waitin' for you to explain!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I been havin' a real bad day.
Nothin's gone right and my skies are grey.
I usually am quite chipper and kind.
Not a more generous soul will you find.
But today if it could it just happened to me.
I want to just quit, run off and just flee.
Car's in the garage, it'll cost a ton,
To find out what's wrong, that mechanic's a bum.
The T.V. is broke and the stove's on the fritz,
Can't wait to see what that cost's to fix.
I'm behind on my bills, my account's in the hole,
I'm out of a job and my wallet got stole.
I went to the bank for a loan, buy some time,
And the Bible says Job had a lot on his mind.
No dice at the bank and my car's now in hock,
Without any money guess I'll just have to walk.
I yelled at the dog, shoved the cat, kicked the kids,
It seems that it all has just hit the skids.
I can't buy a thing, pay a bill, go to market,
It's hard when the devil puts holes in your pocket,
To look up and smile and give praise in all things,
To trust Him and love Him and lift voice and sing.
I feel so ashamed for the things that I've done.
I thought I was strong but I just came undone,
When things all started to slide down hill,
The examples I gave didn't quite fit the bill;
So I'm asking the Lord to forgive, see me through it,
Cause it ain't my fault, the devil made me do it.
Judy Ball
About This Poem:
So often we find that when things get tough it's easier to give advice than it is to take it.
It's much harder to experience hard times than it is to watch someone else go through it.
So we tend to judge those who are going through it if they don't quite measure up, even if we have made the same mistakes ourselves. We say:|Oh well that was a long time ago and I'm different now and I've been forgiven for that.|
But not if you condemn others for the same thing.
The Bible clearly states that we will be judged the same way we judge others and by our own measure it will be measured to us. Remember:
There but for the Grace of God -- go I.
Please, slap the cook and test the meal-
the farmer’s shocked, that he’s in hock,
For the cook taught the pig to steal.
Please, slap the cook and test the meal
The pig got caught now things are hot
The cook killed pig for he did squeal
Please, slap that cook and eat the meal
the farmer’s shocked, that he’s in hock,
Tom turkey must now seal the deal
for the cook taught the pig to steal.
I been havin' a real bad day.
Nothin's gone right and my skies are gray.
I usually am quite chipper and kind.
Not a more generous soul will you find;
But today if it could it just happened to me.
I want to just quit, run off and just flee.
Car's in the garage it'll cost a ton,
To find out what's wrong, that mechanic's a bum.
The T.V. is broke and the stove's on the fritz.
Can't wait to see what that costs to fix.
I'm behind on my bills, my account's in the hole.
I'm out of a job and my wallet got stole.
I went to the bank for a loan, buy some time,
And the Bible says Job had a lot on his mind.
No dice at the bank and my car's now in hock.
Without any money I'll just have to walk.
I yelled at the dog, shoved the cat, kicked the kids,
It seems that it all has just hit the skids.
I can't buy a thing, pay a bill, go to market.
It's hard when the devil puts holes in your pocket,
To look up and smile and give praise in all things.
To trust Him and love Him and lift voice and sing.
I feel so ashamed for the things that I've done.
I thought I was strong but I just came undone,
When things all started to slide down hill.
The examples I gave didn't quite fit the bill;
So I'm asking The Lord to forgive, see me through it;
Cause it ain't my fault, the devil made me do it.
Looms as harbinger unless
*****sapiens can unite
one non Yiddish speaking
Ongematert wishing ye
fare thee well tonight
before betokening apocalyptic sight
'course one must go about
her/his business - right?
Rhetorical question - yet
impossible mission quite
challenging, where one
brother grimm ponders plight
Cosmofunnel favorite fan
Katina Borgersen "poof"
our acquaintanceship dissolved
(think snapped fingers) outright
regardless, whether...
perchance we ever
cross paths long daze
journey into night
met under virtual reality moonlight
ah... the mere awareness
of her existence
metaphorically found modest, mercurial
mellow male within limelight
oy vey admittedly one
rusty Ongepatshket knight
fumbling in the dark with
his unreliable sputtering jacklight
hooping aforesaid gal whose eyes alight
upon mine genuine words doth newt
coon sitter me laughable, nor impolite,
yet accept hard reality to highlight
and/or _ underscore delight
full dame online - each of us,
an infinitesimal jot of granulite
within vast cosmos given finite
minuscule time to excite
our senses trening utmost delight
during brief unique
deoxynucleic chromosomal copyright
til death do us part,
whether natural demise
or... huge mushroom
clouds radioactive blight.
Uneasiness far greater
to confront atomic augury
than pernicious penury
which ceases within eyeblink
far more serious than perjury
nonetheless afflicting me
with psychological injury.
Personal finances pitted
me deep in hock
into red zone, yes
quite a shock,
now finds yours
truly poorest oldest
curmudgeon goofy "kid"
on the block
within Lake woebegone
hard space and rock
as inevitable doom
with each second approaches closer
with each tick tock.
I reckon that one of life's least enthrallin' thrills,
Is facin' the seemin'ly insurmountable mound of bills,
Hopin' in the shrinkin' checkin' account there's enough,
To skirt financial scandal and pay for all that stuff!
I reviewed the 'lectric bill and received a painful shock!
They raised the rates again, shovin' me deeper in hock!
Those scoundrels raised the cost of gas thirty-one percent.
Woe is me! That'll cause some serious fiscal dent!
'Tis hard to decipher extortionate phone bills to say the least.
They've added more universal charges to that infernal beast!
The cost of cable is risin', which is outrageous to begin with.
Deregulation! Humbug! 'Tis just another government myth!
You can depend on it! Each December they raise water rates again.
'Tis our only source, so there ain't no use to complain.
I hold in hand a couple of bills that really make me grouse.
Seems there's clandestine shoppin' on QVC by my spouse!
More good news arrived today makin' me more irate.
Insurance rates are risin' on my auto and real estate!
There's a perplexin' problem I have noticed as of late:
My income ain't keepin' up with the risin' inflation rate!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Artemide Cacciatrice (2)
The carriage trip – who’d like the factual version?
That whole idea was Tuzia’s, never mine.
“Let’s take a carriage for a day excursion,
and have a picnic on the Aventine –
we’ll see the Seven Churches!” But perversion
lay in wait. What Tuzia had in mind
was getting me away from hearth and home,
so I’d be vulnerable in southern Rome.
The Farnesina was our only halt,
to see the Raphael. Picture, then, my shock
when, as we boarded, who should come and vault
into our carriage, strutting like a cock,
but him, and Cosimo? She’s worth her salt,
is Tuzia the Pandar. That blue frock
she wore the following Sunday must have cost
a fortune, notwithstanding what she lost.
Why do I paint castrations? This is new
to me. I get a subject in my brain:
it buzzes there, until I have to do
a canvas, to release it. Can’t explain.
I never knowingly suffuse, imbue
my work with undercurrents. I disdain
all show of private feelings, but suppose
the artist offers much more than she knows!
One thing this maggot said that I must squash
is, we were having sex around the clock.
You’ll know by now that he is talking tosh,
and anyway, it’s not me in the dock,
but him. But yes, I let that cesspool wash
around and over me. I was in hock.
My only way to stave off social death
was, hope for marriage, bear his stinking breath.
You broke into my carriage, and my house,
exploited me for sex, though you were married.
I lost my honour, yes – but you’re a spouse
I wouldn’t wish on Tuzia. You have harried
and bullied me, and lied to me, you louse.
Now, finally, your schemes have all miscarried.
I’m confident this judge will grasp the facts.
Let’s hope someone is sharpening an axe.
The gavel slammed its judgement down
On my impassioned plea,
Doomed to run-on sentences
Served concurrently.
My term began an infinite jest,
Time after time, time without rest.
On and on, again and again,
Ad infinitum, days without end.
Illicit contraband stashed in my sock,
Wearing a jumpsuit here on The Rock.
Sand in an hourglass keeps me in hock.
Forever and ever, and ever so more.
Each day and night a grim tug of war.
Idle in lockdown with yada, yada, yada,
Etcetera, etcetera, and desiderata.
Oblivion’s limbo looms dry as a drought.
The light at the end of the funnel runs out,
As the wastewater swirls down the drain,
And my hair falls away from my brain,
While the ferryman’s taking his toll,
And the calendar’s carving my soul
Into tidy, discrete prison blocks,
Where hands slap the faces of clocks,
Till you can’t tell the ticks from the tocks,
And the warden keeps changing the locks,
While my nightmares add weight to the years
By retelling my worst childhood fears
When the ragman went lurking about
By that streetlight that always was out
On the playground there by the church,
With dead eyes and black-market merch,
As the wheels on the bus go ‘round and 'round,
Like prison yard walks, but I’m still glory bound.
I curse the screws, flip a finger to the void,
And serve my penalty in splendid isolation,
Not defeated, just righteously annoyed.
Of the benefits that come with doing time in the hole,
The best is being favored with a birdman's soul.
As I once heard a lifer say in the exercise yard,
"Freedom is being satisfied with the terms of one's confinement."
Seems companies are betting big
on real estate in the metaverse…
I cannot possibly surmise
an investment in a scheme that’s worse.
Perhaps you’d like an NFT?
Afraid it’s all fungible to me…
Or maybe cryptocurrency?
Once again, it seems all Greek to me.
Give me some land to plant my feet;
vegetables in a garden sweet.
Some borrow to reduce the shock;
I’ll stick to cash and not go in hock.
I know I’m an old-fashioned guy,
and probably more so when I die…
So I’ll invest in my grandkids,
hope when I pass that they say, “He did!”