Best Junket Poems
When you have spent most of your life,
Suffering from panic attacks, Agoraphobia, and strife,
The last thing you need to happen to you,
Is for your glasses to suddenly break in two.
Only an hour before you meet Cherie Blair,
Help, what a total nightmare.
Then on the next table you spot DAVID BLUNKETT,
As you sit there filling your face with junket.
There is always someone Worse off than you,
Especially at this type of do.
Then she comes over, CHERIE BLAIR, and starts to talk to us.
It feels like a dream, we are chatting to, at the time the Prime Minister’s wife,
Telling her all about my broken glasses and strife,
Telling her how I can hardly see.
She is so nice, as nice can be.
She’s done her homework, She knows what we were all about,
She impressed us, without a doubt,
I just hope I didn’t stare,
The day we met CHERIE BLAIR.
Mitt's plan is to lend out the buckets
A life of grand funk on a junket
his partner named Ann
Wealth is their plan
From bucket, to bank it, to "Funk It"
Dummying Up
by Odin Roark
Once mannequins rocked.
Utilitarian heroes propped up
Behind steering wheels,
Windows,
Doors,
Even beside display animals.
Such were the iron-hearted
Of atomic testing ground history.
Today, Saks 5th Ave windows
With their sophisticated still-life-reality,
Serve the well-to-do shoppers,
The not so well-to-do looky-loos,
And of course, the anything-will-do bag ladies.
In Washington there resides flesh and blood versions,
Animatronic wonders,
Their brain circuitry void of action voltage,
Their suits, ties, tans
Makeup, coifs and dresses
Never askew.
Yet…
These elected reps continue more immobile
Than their lauded ancestry,
Those once sacrificial creations of purpose,
Now but a desert’s dwindling radio active dust.
Yes…
Dummying up has come a long way
To its glorification as our US Congress,
Where nonsense requires one dummy-up opener
So “I’ll see that and raise your wealthy-class
Pandering with five more tax cuts.”
At which point, they break for another fund raising junket.
Unfortunately…
The game will pick up where it left off on their return,
A mannequin mentality becoming more and more inflexible.
INSPIRATION
Under open skies
When the morning Sun
blazes out in all its glory;
And the clapping winds
call out to me to scribe
their wandering story.
I ramble ere I will
among sweet nature’s finery,
And scribble down the verse and
couplets the trees, the hills and
rushing burns would shout me!
Then, when once more homeward
bound from my morning junket,
With a poem written in my notebook
safely sitting in my pocket.
© Peter Morriss 17.01.2018
Whodathunkit
Jebediah Suggs
watched the gopher tortoise hide –
his veggies at risk
“Y’all listen up, dang fool tortoise
If’n yer expectin’ a meal
Ya gotta ‘nother thin’ comin’
“I been a plantin’ and a waterin’
Watchin’ my garden grow
Till y’all pop out ‘n’ steal a spinach leaf
Ta take it with ya below
“Dadgum hole makes it hard ta catch ya
So I’s been standin’ watchin’ behind
Yer in fer a new home
Some spot with no veggies I’ll find”
Ole Jeb, he nabbed his prey
‘N’ the offender looked had fear in ‘is eyes
Turtle soup was what that gopher be thinkin’
But he was just goin’ fer a ride, much to his surprise
Me, I yeehawed when Jebediah
Snatched the tortoise and drove off on a relocation junket
‘Twas then I realized I’d become a redneck too
So tell me, whodathunkit?
*Entry for the “Something New” contest
(based on a true experience)
For those residents in MAGAville,
That can't seem to pull their heads out of Trumps' ass.
Take a minute away from those affectionate kisses, and
For that moment, you might not be without class.
I know it must be difficult for you,
To honestly think and even act for yourself.
But what the hell, take a break from your ignorance,
And raise your mind above that bottom shelf.
Maybe then you can show some independence,
Since you don't always have to follow the crowd.
While those keepers of oaths and stupidity,
Can look elsewhere to make their boys proud.
Because honestly, you've been missing the boat of reality,
While sailing on a junket to an island of fantasy.
And pardon me against all truth that's social,
But that gibberish is quite simply, lunacy!
So stand tall, pull your big-boy pants on,
Take a deep breath, then swallow hard.
Take a look in the mirror with clear eyes,
Find the truth behind the lies, and what remains is a canard.
Tom Thumb got caught peeping
Now his life is on the run
Little Bo Peep lost her sheep
On a gambling junket she was on
Little Miss Muffet is having to tuff it
Out these days in jail
Selling ecstasy to undercover police
And now can't pay her bail
Little Jack Horner took him a corner
Of the Mafia drug trade
Once you are hooked on the Meth that he cooks
There's no way of escape
You think that's bad you ain't seen nothing yet
That even comes this close
Since Mother Goose started hitting the juice
And ended up down on skid row
Humpty Dumpty's more than broke
But not from any fall
He couldn't pay his bookie
And his legs were first to go
Baa Baa Black Sheep
Where forced to sell their wool
To pay for all the damages
While they were in school
Jack pushed Jill down the hill
When he caught her cheating with Little Boy Blue
Now he's paying her doctor bills
Which has left Jack blue too
You think that's bad you ain't seen nothing yet
That even comes this close
Since Mother Goose started hitting the juice
And ended up down on skid row
A hunk once went on a junket
With lots of money in his pocket
Many fair ones tried to be smart
Springing forward their love dart
Dude was clever to evade their net.
Angry clouds were above
Displaying hatred not love
With an angry growl
Came a heavenly howl
There are energy impulses
Crackling lights dished out in doses
Joined the powerful teaming downpour
Angels sending a message about this star gazing tour
Two men scheduled to be shot in the air
No return date set for the galactic dare
It took a little time
But the sun came out to shine
A natural cosmic luring test
Challenging earthlings wanted to leave their nest
Launch countdown never stopped
Plan continued from the pad lot
After placing the pair in seated positions
Patiently waiting for the ‘go’ decision
Commanding lift starting the space station mission
Clock under twenty
Big business experimenting investing their money
Word came to abort
Due to the weather who was the true judicial court
Safety concerns were the reasons
Canceling the spectacle during Florida’s rainy season
Temporary relieving the responsibilities for the dragon crew
Delaying a dream ready to come true
Mother Nature commanding man to be told
“This adventurous travel must be put on hold!
Until a new window open soon
And then it can resume
A space junket to the resort orbiting the moon”
Man penciled in a date
Saturday afternoon sounds great
Still the meteorology influence will have the final say
About sending this peaceful rocket on its way
Sitting 'neath an apple tree
In Edmond, Oklahoma
Thinking of the days gone by
And drinking my Corona
Body beat all black and blue
I've had less ups than I've downs
I guess that's just all that I get
As an old time rodeo clown
Should I say another season?
Is it worth what I will get?
Money, pain and broken bones
Those not broken yet
I've been gored by bulls in Texas
Stomped real hard in Abilene
But, I got my worst damn beating
By my ex, named Bobbie Jean
With a bull you see it coming
You just get out of the way
But Bobbie Jean sideswiped me
And I'll not forget that day
Put on some clown makeup
Some baggy pants, the game is on
But, I came home from one junket
And Bobbie Jean had up and gone
I wasn't set to find this
Fell in a bottle for a week
It wasn't bad she left me
It's that she took my hound dog, Zeke
That hurt more than any beating
I may have taken in the ring
I can take the biggest brahma
And the bruises it may bring
But, Bobbie Jean done hurt me
Blind sided me you'd say
I know I'll not forgive her
For taking my dog Zeke away
Now, I sit and ponder
One more empty by my side
Am I fit enough to stay here?
Can I stay for one last ride?
I know it's a sad story
Of a clown whose heart got broke
But beneath the colored face paint
I'm just an aging, sore cowpoke
So I sit beneath this fruit tree
In Edmond, Oklahoma
Pondering my future
As I drink one more Corona.
Imagine for one moment, one misty mystic moment,
how best to use those golden float seconds,
moments, hours, we as mortal creatures
abnormally fritter into some quaint spurious
void known as passage.
Time's colossal collateral bequeathed unbeknownst
to each and everyone of us earthlings
that slips through a porous filter into
endless futile vapour trails, absent-minded ventures,
and vapid finger gazing.
However, sweeping statements aren’t and
never will be that sermonising torch I
brandish in broad daylight.
Such a pointless pose, a consummate dismissal
leads to skewed off-course compass points.
An aimless drift on anybody’s part beyond
the versicolour dawn, nascent noonday nugget,
rich resplendence of a sapphire twilight
should not be met with brusque distain.
A subtle pointer deftly spun seems
more than ample whenever hidebound aspect lurks.
Day and night should be immersive in their
ambience, without interlude or vacuous intrusion.
A galaxy of Three D screen epics await tellurians
divorced from deep fulfilment.
They, as spellbound junket, are poised around
each bend for instant capture, to seize and duly savour.
Why not revel in each in the moment wonderland,
that dazzling enchantment, ushered by each stroke of the resonant clock?
Perdition Be Damned!
Body electric zapped
lower gastrointestinal tract
wracked with wretchedness
pitted, rocked, and tortured
severe muscle spasms cramp
deathly hallowed deliverance
beseech divine creator to exorcise relief
any panacea trumpeted vetoed
pestilential nausea diarrhea
wreaks relentless havoc
horrid ordeal twists insides
lack strength to live
breathing a laborious effort
bedrest temporarily alleviates
generally healthy ironclad junket
weatherbeaten rickety ship of state
restorative sought trouncing unwell
corporeal self against torture
assailing, castrating,
and drubbing existence
avocations ordinarily promulgating
resplendent joie de vivre
squelched, scotched, and sabotaged,
courtesy minuscule mailer daemons
emotions unlikely culprit,
though times gone by anxiety
tindered, pitched, and kindled
abominable irritable bowel syndrome
prescription medication tempered
badgering, crippling, and debilitating
panic attacks plagued this primate
manifesting feeble endeavor
to experience poignant satiation,
asper simple pleasures nonexotic
endeavors merely passively living
as one organic carbon based
human being finding fulfillment
meditating, reading, and writing,
now fleeced, deprived, and blitzed
suspicious disagreeable provender
perhaps lactose intolerance
after enjoying pizza birthday
fours days prior
celebrating chronological centenary,
sans one frail resident here,
Highland Manor Apartments
suddenly, I feel chill o' rigor mortis!
The vague and the abstract turned into a contract,
adrenaline junkies, now joined in a dare.
With hands up, no screaming, they’d both go careening,
defying gravity at the State Fair.
What started as amity morphed to calamity
enough that the riders had panic attacks.
When they reached the summit, they started to plummet
just as a mutt ventured onto the tracks.
The new rollercoaster got hot as a toaster
as the conductor stomped hard on the brake.
With no time for acting, they heard the impacting
of metal on flesh as the mutt flew the lake.
To worsen the matter, gratuitous splatter
was added for gratis to this ruinous ride;
they grew more embittered once they had considered
those patches of hide from the cur that had died.
The horrors receded as they both conceded
while parting the last bits of gore with a comb.
They climbed in the pickup, and with no further hiccups
slumped up the hill slowly and headed for home.
(Reply to Jack Ellison’s “A Secret Formula”
with my apologies)
Jack ruminates, one day past
no i shall not say his prime
an old duffer - no, a daffy duck
with a bit of luck in his bill
be careful passing about your specimen
oh c’mon soup, his mind
he’s no average joe, no joe
at all, but a happy chap
Jack thinks himself playing craps
everyone leans in to hear the secret
but his formula is sealed
in the recesses of a junket
his trunk open, hanging out
for all to see
delighting you and me
still, dear poet, fasten your overcoat
and Happy Birthday, dear!
9/23/2022
.
This is one junket which I
could not miss
The gentle were preening
themselves
basking in the sun
and our hearts like thunder
each had its own
pound
as soft shoulders reflected
that warm sun
That whirling unsteady sensation
caused our mans attention
Their giggle was quick
silly
and nervous
and their gentle eyes
from our likes
swayed not