Best Manhole Poems
Striving for Political Correctness
By Elton Camp
It would just be the end
If by words we do offend.
There’s the devil to be paid
If we call a spade a spade.
“Vertically challenged” means short.
“Horizontally challenged,” a fat sort.
“Nondiscretionary fragrance” means we stink.
“Living impaired” means your’re dead I think.
“Cerebrally challenged” and you are plain dumb.
“Hispanic” and it is Mexico that you come from.
“Niceness deprived” tells that you are mean.
As “oppressor-to-be” a young boy can be seen.
“Follicularly challenged” guys really are bald.
“Gay” is what males who hump men are called.
The “residentially flexible” will live out on the street.
“Nontraditional success” and a poor man you meet.
“Economically maximized” describes one rich.
“Economically marginalized” do live in a ditch.
“Visually challenged” is the blind guy you see.
“Reality challenged” people are crazy as can be.
“Locationally challenged” folks are those lost.
“Unjust self-esteem reduction” criticism’s cost.
A “maintenance portal” is the name for a manhole.
While “sexually dysfunctional” is a perverted soul.
The garbage collector is a “sanitation engineer.”
“Petroleum transfer specialist” pumps gas I fear.
The “termination specialist” other people does kill.
“Body entrepreneur” describes a prostitute if you will.
“Factually unencumbered” are the ignorant folk.
“Alternative answer” means an error was spoke.
If lazy, then we aren’t “motivationally disposed.”
“Discretionary fragrance” and perfume is nosed.
The “chronologically gifted” are just old.
“Rustically inclined” is redneck I’m told.
“Vertically gifted” people describes those who are tall.
“Client of the correctional system” a prisoner we call.
“Cerebrally gifted” people are those who are smart.
Be “metabolically challenged,” and dead thou art.
“Nonwaged” and it is a job you do lack.
“Amorally gifted” and a crook you track.
“Knowledge conveyor” speaks of the teacher.
“Personality repressor” describes the preacher.
With a “conceptual conflict” you are not sure.
The “under-alert” just some sleep will cure.
Now we are expected to play the “correctness” game.
Which means we call almost nothing by its true name.
In keeping with that, you see,
This poem is correct as can be.
Two teens shoveling snow that February day,
wanting to hurry up so they could play,
quickly shoveling heaping piles of snow,
into an open 1935 NYC manhole,
Seeing something move down in the hole,
both teens thought "holy mole!"
yelling theres a gator down in there,
wanting to help it out they showed little fear,
Getting a clothesline they helped drag it out,
an 8 foot alligator with a toothy snout,
loosening the line the gator snapped,
while the teens were busy watching their backs,
But both boys were taken aback by the attack,
and decided to give the gator some whacks,
both killing it with their work snow shovels,
whereupon the gator didn't give them anymore trouble,
Now in NYC every February 10th,
the people are reminded of how that day was spent,
with a bronze gator pulling a man down in the manhole,
a quirky subway commemoration reminder for one and all.
4-6-17
We struggle through life, through the stress, through the strife, it cuts like a knife but onward we travel crawling through the dirt, through the gravel while watching our lives unravel.
As we go on the prowl, on our faces there's a scowl and a feeling of throwing in the towel.
While a breakthrough seems out of sight, thinking, how can I make things right, suddenly it comes piercing through the night, a beacon of light, it continues to get bright
It was a heck of a scare, you got an answer to your secret prayer, knowing you were delivered out of your despair, even a nightmare.
So let's stop poking out our chests boasting, I'm the best when we know, we've been Blessed. Instead of flapping our chops. Give Him, His Props.
Then the next time your life is on cruise control and you fall into a manhole or find yourself up a pole, just slow your roll.
Wether you're on a mountain top or in a sweatshop, before you call the cops or start flapping your chops, remember, He can remove all the stops.
It's Just Proper, To Give Him, His Props.
He said, "Old folks ain't worth nothing."
He said, "I'm thirty! and if you're over thirty you ain't nothing."
I said, "That's a lie! I'm seventy-one and young at heart."
He hadn't seen me sunning alone around the bend
While by the elevator, he stood waiting with his friends.
And I saw that his Counselor was my age
And I thought of my nine-to-five days
And volunteering in snow, sleet, wind, rain, and brine
And the sidewalk manhole in Brooklyn I climbed
And the emotional horse I fell off
And some folks may have had a good laugh
And the skylight I looked up to
And hands that healed and renewed.
And I say... my age is none of my business
I'm seventy-one, and life and me is not yet done.
*
A dream, bad from every nook
In front of my eyes, so painful.
Eyes of mine being tearful
And petrified of the remembrance, I looked.
Deep down somewhere inside the heart
Lies a monotonous melancholy,
Lording slowly, speaking distinctly
Of the ones, moving willingly or unwillingly, apart.
The awful reverberation of the pains,
The anomalous silence of the lips
Makes no good to the victims’ deeps
But to menace the already-made stains.
Love and affection, nothing but an illusion,
Drive the youths, sometimes, into a circle so vicious
Making them, gradually, sub-conscious
Of the foredooming situation.
The hazardous ambiance of betrayal,
So treacherous, so obnoxious
Makes us so ferocious
To trust in one being more than loyal.
Women and even small girls
Practicing and participating in prostitution
Though a taboo to the sophisticated civilization,
For a mouthful forget their morals.
Jobless the students are, so hopeless
Leave no reason for education.
Depressed to the manhole of frustration
Question their independence.
The merciless slaughtering of people
And of the innocent newborns, so cruel
The carnivorous minds inside, that dwell
Are they better than animal?
The miring sins, all around
A sinister awaits the weak,
Till this insatiable appetite of Politics
Forever will be sound.
For us, the same
Day or Night, it is.
Our conscience to protest it is
Upon which, hovers the clouds of shame.
Forcing us to do what we should not
In the name of God, either,
Or by reasons of fear,
Hurts our life and existence, a lot.
To the bloodthirsty vampires,
Stop these barbaric games
Of pretending to hold your false fame
Leading to your catastrophic massacre.
For a year or two, if these pursue, I fear,
Ruthlessly skinning and ripping the society
For the highest worldly possession, money
End of the world is not too far, my dears.
As I walked down Mulberry Street, my pack and the shoes on my feet.
I see a nickel, penny a dime an empty bottle of wine.
Fletcher the old drunk, smelling a bit of a skunk still I smile and wave.
Punks have placed Graffiti on a wall, claiming ownership of this urban sprawl.
I stop for a bit and have a quaint sit on the remnants of a flower box.
I light my last smoke, watch some odd folk, they walk to the beat of their drum.
Exhaling the sweet mist of nicotine addiction, happy this is my only vice.
A dandelion grows through a crack screaming for me to take poetic note.
A Mercedes parked in front of the attorneys office, ill gotten gains.
Trash blown into the inner recess of the arched doorway in which I sit.
A drug store receipt a note perhaps a declaration of love or don't forget the milk.
The cast iron manhole cover states proudly, Made in Chicago.
Ahead lies the Mulberry Street Mission a line already forms.
Where dinner and biblical mumbo jumbo are being served.
The old woman greets everyone with a smile and tells them Jesus loves you.
I'll wait until she goes inside I don't want to argue.
The wind blows and sunshine falls on my face.
I notice out of the corner of my eye a normal folk (Non-Homeless).
Taking their own cigarette break enjoying the same sweet addiction as myself.
Our eyes meet in acknowledgement of we are the same, for the moment.
The Mulberry Street bus rambles by spewing noxious fumes.
The city's wind artwork slowly turns hoping someone will take notice.
My last long draw on my cigarette, I grab my pack and pull myself up.
then One foot Two foot I resume my journey to the Mulberry Street Mission.
(In Memory of Fletcher Campbell 1940-2015)
A night like no other she alone
walking down a dim lit street
as steam rises from a manhole.
A dress cut so low her bossoms shine
as the skirt rustles up in the breeze.
Legs so long and fine
that make men crave
her flesh from within.
Cats scream send chills within
as she walks alone.
Her mind wonders while alone
of being tortured from men
fillied with wild desire within.
Heart beat quickens within
as she hears voices within
as she walks alone at night.
Images rush in her mind
of her being thrown around
as clothing ripped from flesh.
Their touches she feels upon
her breast as they scar the mind
with their desire to harm within.
Seeing images of them undress
and defile her face along
with the purity within.
Suddenly there is a click
as she feels cold steel touch
her loins and feels the pain.
Laughing and smiling as they cause pain
she starts to cry as the defile
the body that was pure
and had no remorse .
Each man takes a trip
as she feels her life slip
with each plunge into her loins.
Her breast all wet as her loins
all covered in blood from the turmoil.
Suddenly a branch creeks
and she snaps awake
she searches her self
to find it was not a dream.
Sitting naked and alone
she crys from within.
Why'd I hide it
Yeah that kind of riot
When you sigh and the silence shrieks louder than verbs and
And the direction the affection takes then
Pressures the perfectionist in-
To layman's ways of saying "let's be friends"
So the road is fired up though you know the tire's cut
And the stereo it plays "here we go"
It makes eerie tones
They come oh straight from
A joke even though
That's a story baby we both really know
Oh we're stop and go to gamble
And at lights hear advice
The rambles from a manhole
But let's not forget the device
It's mobile but not handheld
No the heart it doesn't crash oh before it gets trampled
The temple table's overturned
Turns out we're late
'Cause the clover caught aflame baby we waited so it burned
But that's okay
You say the gamble ex-changes it
It makes the coins get weightless and
And turns the green into an urn
Oh we're stop and go to gamble
And at lights hear advice
The rambles from a manhole
But let's not forget the device
It's mobile but not handheld
No the heart it doesn't crash oh before it gets trampled
No the heart it doesn't crash oh before it gets trampled
Congratulations! You have bought a new car.
May you have many joyful and memorable rides with your family!
As regards how fortunate you are
to get such a quick loan to buy the car,
Aha, ask me!
Few years back,
in all excitement and overloaded love,
I gifted my husband, umm.... a high end german car -
You see, I have faith in all German technologies-
they are strong and reliable,
'coz one of my aunts is a German.
The first year or two is pretty blissful-
Right? as it is with all ignorant fools-
happily enjoying the rides,
coyly smiling at envious eyes,
holidaying in distant places,
and paying back the loans religiously.
The third year I kept on wondering,
Oooish!....how many more left?
The fourth year I just wanted to get it off my back!
Sorry to say, but- the itch was always glued there,
no matter how much I scratched, rubbed,
mowed the back with a roller-
Oof! -I just couldn't get off the painful itch.
The final year, when a handful loans were left,
my patience was depleted,
I begged, borrowed, emptied my piggy banks,
dug out all my hidden vaults,
squeezed out the last bit to
just pay off the tortuous loan.
Plomp! I fell on the sofa,
and heaved the biggest sigh of relief!
By that time this not so young companion
had travelled many tedious miles with me,
burrowing the largest manhole-
Aha! - even ripping through my last bank account.
The next day I peered at it with raised eyebrows,
shocked to realise that it truly looked
uncomfortably older, scarred and weatherbeaten.
Honestly speaking, I was tired of it,
found flaws in it, and who wants an old hag?
I started eyeing and drooling over other beauties-
Whew!-the youngest and latest models!!
May you have many joyful and memorable rides with your family!
The gloomy storm brightens drab city streets,
leaving mirror puddles on cold black tar
cleansing red blood from curbs of violence,
fetid odors of stale fomented beer.
The sweat of the city evaporates,
invading nostrils like a down hill sewer
inhaling, a gutter gully gusher.
Steam bellows forth in systematic bursts,
aborting unwanted vapor pressure
in subterranean tunnel caverns
from pitted, porous, perforated pipes.
The city bathes itself in acid rain
scoring concrete, etching brick, eating flesh.
This cities' long needed bath is last seen
floating away, skimming old power lines
toward the next open manhole in its path.
Eggnog for a festive season
A special holiday celebration being the reason
Yet my head is spinning all over the place
I feel like I am in a race
That eggnog my mind will never erase
Mother always said don’t waste
But some how the alcohol was added
I am sure this eggnog I will never ever forget
Later on I might have some regret
Can someone point me in the direction of the North Pole?
Right now Santa is stuck in some manhole
Well he is actually smashed
He can’t even tell the reindeers to dash
I don’t believe this I see Rudolf and the reindeer team
But why are they floating down a stream?
Well this slogan fits, “Santa with no sleigh tonight, how will you fly into the night?”
It has now become a plight
Cheers everyone and good night.
I Bought an i-Bot
My mechanical mistress came in today
Within a bicornuous box a robotic risqué
She wore a blue dress a delicious display
We danced in the moonlight a starlit sway
She kept me warm through the naked night
After disingenuous dreams, I find her upright
‘Would you like breakfast in bed noble knight?’
Yes, my lubricated lady, I’ll have eggs in white
I brought her downtown to the city’s fun fair
We got double takes as people began to stare
I noticed the wind did not lift her hydraulic hair
Maybe I had made a metal mistake buyer beware
Looking at her eyes I asked her if she had a soul
‘No silly... I’m a Celluloid X-1 Bot in cruise control’
My thoughts soon dropped through the manhole
I then decided to park my Bot at the fair and stroll.
April.13.2018
Bring to life
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
A bank robber named Billy O'Dell
Ran from the crime scene but he fell
Down a gigantic manhole
Dropped everything he stole
And now sits with a sore head in a cell.
A Kidney Tale
It is a sorry tale that greeted this writer in his early morning read....
Of a schoolboy and his kidney that had to be separated in earnest..
Headlined Boy Loses kidney After Falling Into Uncovered Manhole...
It happened somewhere there in Klang, a very bustling urban town...
There is even a picture of the manhole, gaping wide in its unholy glory..
Even of a woman in the picture, who is shown sidestepping it nimbly...
Reading further, it is distressing to read how an innocent boy of 15...
In his usual short walk towards school on one fine early morning....
Ended up in hospital in excruciating pain and a swollen abdomen...
One of his kidney had to be removed in order his life is not endangered..
A most startling observation was his innocent comment about manholes...
He said there were a number of them, mostly uncovered and all gaping holes...
To his credit and pedestrians there in general, one has to be nimble....
One has to be quick if one is is to avoid falling into a whole lot of trouble...
Our boy hero in this tale of misfortune, he suffered and lived to tell a tale...
Of the gross dereliction of duty in the government officials in maintainence....
They need to maintain the pedestrian walk, how could there be manhole traps..
With the many manholes left gaping wide, danger threatens at every step...
To a man in the street, paying local council assessments and various taxes....
It is not too much to ask that public facilities be proper and safety standards be uptodate..
The poor boy in this tale, his loving parents, they are sorely aggrieved and angry..
Legal action is in their next plan of action, may they get their kidney's worth of damages...
But as the picture shows, those manholes are gaping wide and still uncovered...
They are there, lying in wait, hoping to catch some other unfortunate passerby..
Oh how very sad the depths of apathy and the indifference of the local councillors..
Neglecting their duties, they are very guilty for this rather sad and sorry story..
http://www.thestar.com.my/news/nation/2016/02/13/boy-ruptures-kidney-after-falling-into-uncovered-manhole/
http://www.thestar.com.my/news/nation/2016/02/21/teenager-who-lost-kidney-in-manhole-accident-to-sue-klang-council/
Bruised and broken time and again
Loved and tossed away lover and friend
Innocent and free and lovely you
Now battered and worn what can I do
I weep for your woes and wipe your tears
But love your Blackheart after all of these years
You've fancied the rum, the ale and the wine
Your bodies worn out abused over time
Narcotics for pain washed down with booze
Infections ignored that blatantly oozed
And the women who loved you in your youth
Run from you now because of the truth
Your smelly and dirty you never wash
Your teeth are all rotten you only eat squash
And what of the sperm that you let grow
They are adults now but alas you don't know
Blackheart the heathen, unkept selfish soul
Waste of life and of body a big manhole
So scatter and run and part a wide path
For Blackheart the stinky won't take a bath!