Best Load Up Poems
My favorite President is yet to be
He may well not go down in history
For he'll do what really needs to be done
Antagonizing almost everyone under the sun
First he'll fix Social Security; it's running short of cash
Upping retirement age to 68, a move the 'swamp' will call rash
Then he'll crack down on Medicare/Medicaid fraud and crime
Infuriating the clout-heavy cheaters in America's medicinal slime
Next he'll free up school choice for the poor, not just the rich
More vouchers and charter schools: teachers unions will yell and beech
He'll clean up the ghettos, bust up the gangs, and load up the jails
Violent felons and their Park Avenue backers will want him impaled
He'll break the stranglehold on free speech and inquiry in universities
Big-tech CEO's will squirm, when he ends their totalitarian strip-tease
He'll repair the military, building the strongest defense ever
Daring China and Russia to come get us -- They won't; they're too clever
He'll veto delusionary pork projects which taxpayers can't afford
Boosting old-fashioned 'capitalism' -- for that he will not be adored
As for climate change, he'll pressure China, India and the other slackers
To reign in their CO2 abuse, while the world calls him a bully and hacker
Truth is, my favorite President-to-be will probably never get elected
And if somehow he does, I hope from angry mobs he'll be protected
~ Inspired by, but not an entry in L. Milton Hankins'
'Your Favorite President Contest' ~
‘Twas the night before Christmas, I was almost asleep
The house was so quiet, you could not hear a peep
I woke from a loud crash and a knock at the door
It must be my late delivery from the corner store
To my surprise St. Nicholas was standing there
His eyes red and smelling of bourbon and beer
I asked what he was doing here this time of night
He said he crashed his sleigh in a drunken flight
His reindeer were fine but passed out in the snow
He still had some gifts to deliver before tomorrow
He begged for my help to deliver all the kids' gifts
I said yes, I can load up my rogue and give him a lift
We set out in my rogue packed full of Christmas gifts
We delivered them all, no children were left on the list
Thanking me for my kindness and generous Christmas spirit
He gave me a gift of a gold key with a huge ruby carat
He said I was now a secret member of the north pole
And I could use my ruby key any time I wanted to go, but
I could not tell his wife what he did to his reindeer and sleigh
I told him I would never breathe a word of this secretive day
He was ready to leave in his fixed sleigh with his reindeer in tow
He thanked me again, said he had to go as it was starting to snow
He said he really needs to stop with the liquid holiday cheer
But still decided to leave while drinking a few holiday beers
11/22/18
Contest: Christmas Poems Old or New
Sponsor: Constance La France
Mums Kitchen.
If I went back to the house of my childhood days,
I'm sure I'd see mum in the kitchen, as my eyes start to glaze.
Busily moving pots and pans from the stove to the sink,
I would hold onto that vision afraid just to blink.
Her blue and white apron all covered in flour,
preparing food and baking hour after hour.
Just hand written notes, no need for a recipe book,
Things made so many times she'd barely need to look.
I would sit at the table and into the kitchen I'd stare,
watching mum work away making such delectable fare.
The aroma's and smells that would waft through the house,
I'd breathe deeply and pretend that they entered my mouth.
There would be pasties laid on and the apple pie of your dream,
lamingtons, jelly cakes both all covered in cream.
cloud soft sponge cakes and chocolate chip bickies,
Mum made cooking look easy but was really quite tricky.
Mum would bring me some tea and load up a plate,
I wouldn't care about sugar or worry about weight.
Eating to my fill and my mouth gets the drools,
Then I would say, "Mum, your kitchen rules".
No Toilet Paper
My mind is boggled.
What is with the Coronavirus mania?
Why is everyone going freaking nuts over this?
From what this writer understands,
It is much like the regular flu,
Which is killing thousands as we speak, and
Hospitalizing even more. And this has been going on,
As long as I have been alive since 1952.
But this particular microbe is novel, and
Since little is known about it apparently,
People are afraid they will “get it.”
So off to Costco they all go, and
Buy as much toilet paper they are all permitted to buy,
Take it home, store or hide it with the other family treasures,
And then realize, inexplicably, that now
They are all magically immune to “getting it.”
Is that what these crazed souls are thinking?
I can think of a fate worse than “getting it.”
Worse than sports games being cancelled;
Worse than concerts and plays going on indefinite hiatus;
Worse than school classes and Sunday services finding the exit door, for now;
Worse than millions of vacations being cancelled, and
Entire industries being brought to their knees;
Worse than the world economy taking a complete nosedive
Into depression and financial paralysis;
Worse than millions of human beings dying
Horrible, agonizing deaths due to this little microbe.
No, I can think of something even worse.
Imagine going to Steak Corral - All You Can Eat,
One night soon, and you wanted your money’s worth.
So you load up your plate with:
Whiskey-laced, barbecued baked beans and garlic bread;
Two breadcrumb-laced quarter pound char-burgers,
Each smothered in a half dozen beer-breaded onion rings,
With ranch dressing dripping over them like lava.
Then you go get some more beans on french fries with
Big raw garlic chunks nestled in them, and then,
You wash it all down with three beers.
Imagine the next morning.
Imagine the horror, the horror,
Of voiding all that Steak Corral stuff, and then
Having the absolute worst possible thing
Happen to you in today’s crisis times.
No toilet paper.
Frankie boy, go get my gun
Here comes those
pitchfork carrying citizens
They’re so scary angry and uninformed
Holding torches, they plan on
doing more than burn crosses on our lawn
Frankie boy, load up the old shotgun
Time to send those
trespassing rabble rousers on the run
Lead pellets gonna spray paint the yard
Red is the color
of the devil’s favorite corpse calling card
Frankie boy, tap the trigger on the gun
Time for us to start blending in ...
acting American
Tap the hair trigger on the gun again
Assimilating more metal violence
will make us double blessed American
Frankie boy, you’re my only son
Time to teach you
the wisdom of the smoking gun
See all of those jackrabbits run
Some got unlucky feet,
now they’re dead and done
Frankie boy, cool the gun barrel’s hot metal skin
It’s a frosty good start to blending in ...
acting like real Americans
Frankie boy, I loved you since day one
Go gather the cadavers,
the lightning is soon gonna come
Time for you to have some brothers and sisters galore
So go tell your doctor father and Igor —
we’re Americans, we ain’t acting like monsters no more!
Hey Mr president don't take
us to war
Don't load up your guns to settle a score
Your soldiers will gladly give you their lives
Please don't feed them bull , rhetoric and lies
Hey Mr president please save us the earth
Take a look at your children and remember their birth
Don't tear up nuclear agreements that will save the masses
Don't change the law that stop green house gases
Hey Mr president if your not a racist then do what you can
Stop the white supremacist and the klu Klux Klan
Hey Mr president have your say
on the rights of the needy the lesbian and gay
and while your at it please pass a bill to protect returning vets who are mentally ill
Hey Mr president all these things must be done
So the world can prosper an live as one
Talking and compromise will be the key
To stop us all living in total anarchy
We are the neighbors
Who live down your street
We are the ones
Who your kids love to hate
We are the ones who actually sit outside
Watching our children while they are at play
Making sure all of the children
On the street are behaved
To many drive-bys by gangs
Over drugs and money and loot
Never caring before firing
They just load up their guns and they shoot
Sexual offenders on every block
Hiding behind their closed doors
They're watching and waiting
For their next victim to lure
They say it takes a village to raise a child
That's why we must all protect every one
Despite of our color, religions, or political views
We must come together, stop looking for an excuse
I watch after your children while you are away
I'm hoping as a parent for me you'd do the same
We'll never always see eye to eye it's the truth
But the protection of the children should always be first
So when your kids run to you saying I was mean
Just know they were up to trouble hoping it unseen
I spotted it and stopped it before a disaster could strike
Because as a parent, I'd save any child's life
AN APPETITE FOR SOCKS
We load up our washing machine,
With clothes that practically, weigh a ton,
But why is it when we put in a pair of socks,
And then open the dryer door, we only find one?
Our washer and dryer is like the Bermuda Triangle,
We always deposit our socks by the pair,
You would normally expect, what goes in must come out,
But one of those socks manages to disappear.
This is one of the mysteries of the universe,
It doesn’t matter whether the socks are cotton or wool,
Maybe, just maybe, those socks turn into lint,
And that’s why those lint traps are always full.
Somewhere, there are close to a dozen socks,
That either my washing machine or dryer ate,
As a result, we have a bag of mismatched socks,
That are quite lonely, because they’re missing their mate.
Well, I guess it’s off to the department store,
Some more socks I will have to buy,
I know my appliances have an appetite for socks,
But what I really would like to know, is why?
A pretty oak sits outside my window pane in the snow and in the rain
Covered with life, outside the balcony fifty steps away
Decorating the tree with flashes of red, black, grey, yellow and white,
are his friends the cardinals , squirrels , chickadees and the tufted titmice
They sing , chirp, and chatter in harmony of song
As the seasons pass, we live thru heat, drought , cold and rain all year long
I keep my feeder close at hand and watch as they load up in waves of two and three
to make their run at the seeds and grain
The leaves are green now and vibrant with life, in the fall the acorns grow and my tree stands tall
At winter they covet the warmth and provide a shelter for the thick furred grey squirrels
A lovely little hole in the crook of the branch big enough for two to snuggle and borough
They race down these pathways in the sky, playful as skilled acrobats
October mornings the leaves are falling , making noisy whispering sounds
the first rays of sun turn frost into a million twinkling stars on the ground
The two winged take refuge in their nest , built carefully for warmth and rest
To nurse and raise their young , making them fit for another generation of the best
The seasons flow as a quiet pond and like our beautiful life
everything is real with very little strife
Among the colorful citizens of this merry place I give life in equal exchange
for joy and a chance To sit and watch my friends as I grow old and enjoy life in the sun
But life changes, very unfair , and I am denied my playground in the sky
one day some men came and cut all the beauty down
Now its gone all butchered and bare nothing left but a big hole in the ground
Hey all you nice people, got a fantastic idea
Let's party, we could load up on beer and pizza
Maybe dance in the moonlight
While trying to remain upright
In spite of downing six bottles of tequila
© Jack Ellison 2015
As you ended our video call,
You suited up,
Helmet,
Armor,
Gun.
Just another day in that god forsaken place,
As soon as you stepped off the plane it felt like being in an oven.
But hey,
What did you expect.
The boys and you all load up into the Humvee and take off with the rest of the Caravan.
Just another day.
Just another day…
There wasn’t supposed to be an explosion.
There weren’t supposed to be screams.
There wasn’t supposed to be any blood shed.
It was supposed to be just another day.
But all of that did happen.
And you were taken away from me and Mom and Dad and our little sister,
In an instant.
You were supposed to come home.
We were supposed to celebrate your birthday together,
Our sister baked you a cake for when you came home.
But… now you can’t,
And you won’t,
Ever again.
Because you’re gone.
And you can’t ever come back.
But know that we love you,
Know that I love you,
Know that I loved you, My Brother.
Most Importantly know that we miss you,
every waking moment.
Because you’re gone,
And we’ll never see you again.
Did I tell you Mom and Dad still pay your phone bill?
They pay,
So that we can hear your voice on your voicemail recording when we miss you.
I call,
Everynight.
It all seems so simple
To load up the vaccine
Bang
Cure this world of my existence
Every problem has a solution
Now matter how bad you screw it up
It can all be fixed
In one concentrated flash
Everything's gray
Everything's spiraling gray in this world
Every shade between void white and pitch black
So, so dim
Take it all, I don't want it
Show me the way
Boom
White as snow, my consciousness fades
Down, down this spiral
The bottom is rushing to meet me
So that I may kiss it
At breakneck speed
Everything's gray
Turning darker as time goes on
Nothing mattered then
And nothing matters now
Today is going to be the day
I turn my life around
As I pull my truck over
To load up what I just found
I see it as my destiny
Someone tossed out their set of weights
With me at the moment in the mood
To join the fitness craze
So I open up, run around my truck
As my regiment begins
Wish I could find some neighbor kid
To give this old man a hand
And why they make these weights so heavy,
I'll never understand
I drive straight home excited
Back my truck down the drive
I'll haul the stuff in later
As soon as my arms come back to life
3 hours later...
Carrying what's soon to be the new me
From the truck into the house
To late to clinch the butt cheeks
As my entire spine just fell out
3 months later...
Still in intensive care
And mounting chiropractic bills
I'm thinking of just going the new American way
And get my muscles from taking pills
Wait a minute, is it already Christmas again
Seems I just took down the lights and the tree
Is there no rest for the downtrodden and weary
This season sometimes takes the Merry Gentleman out of me
So I load up the sleigh with the dog and the kids
The old beat up station wagon I drive
On the hunt for this years perfect tree
We'll be lucky if we make it back home alive
As we jingle all the way to the local tree farm
Six kids and a dog singing at the top of their lungs
With only twelve days left before Christmas
My Ho, Ho, Ho, is already long gone
Picking the best tree out within our budget
My wife says Charlie Brown would be proud
I ask smarty pants Mrs. Santa what she meant by that
She'd rather not say with the little elves around
Before an argument even ensues
I've lost the battle before I hit the front line
You wonder how I'm so confident of that
The same thing happened last year at this time
As I struggle to get the tree off the roof of my jalopy
While Jack the dog in the frost is nipping at my toes
I fall to the ground with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head
Waking up to the dogs frozen tongue stuck up my nose
Finally with the tree set up in the front parlor
I notice it leans bad to one side
Taking my chainsaw to alleviate the problem
The gas fumes kill my kids parakeet out right
With Hobby Lobby open late for the holidays
I was able to purchase the product I need
Working late into the wee morning hours
I did a good job shellacking the parakeet
I'm not sure that my kids even noticed
Or brought up the question what for
But they sure like the shinny new ornament
Hanging next to the hamster that disappeared the year before
Well, I survived another preparing for Christmas
As subconsciously I'm being led
To wrap myself in last years present "The Snuggie"
And dream of those sugar plums dancing in my head
Surf's Up
Load up the woody wagon
With our boards and brew
Be there or be square
Surf's Up
Let’s have a blast at the beach and surf
Flirt with the chicks
Laying out soaking some rays on the sunny surf
Surf's Up
Take the boards
Catch a wave
Who’s the best?
Who’ll wipe-out?
When the sun goes down
We’ll split
With some chicks
To submarine races
Listen to the sounds and make out
6/12/2015
1960's THE DECADE OF SLANG
Contest Name: Talk the Talk and Walk the Walk -
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi