Best Maurice Poems
Within reason
lies a house full of ordinary
a chest of bland memories.
You end up with
a pocketful of might have beens.
Within reason is five square feet of grass
and the proverbial white picket fence,
nothing else.
The word 'important'
never makes it onto the page.
Nothing"within reason" was ever found
that didn't already have its place.
When u abandon
Reason
you also abandon
Impossibilities.
the brother of reason
The one needs the other
two heads of the same dragon.
One breathing fire and brimstone
the other living without hope.
They never live separately
they are siamese twins.
The ying and yang of yesteryears.
They had a reason with a hint of possibility
They had something,
something maybe,
at best something insignificant.
But imagine what waits
when you eliminate 'impossible.'
In the darkest dark
within the scream of 'don’t',
inside the insanity of abandoning reason
it is there you'll find
that decaying flesh infested with worms
it is there where the round wheel was found.
You use a black shovel
through the bone
into the skull
through the brain
along the heart
into the gut.
There lies that fine line between insanity and genius
but THERE is where you have to go.
To get there you abandon reason.
Abandon the dogma shoved down your
throats all these years.
Glide on the wild side.
Show your body hair.
Expose your fangs.
Lights, camera, DANCE!
devotion unveiled
the fisherman casts his line
his heart now possessed
curves carved in pleasure
chiseled spine traced by touch
love stripped to the bone
flaws etched precisely
he frees an internal scream
she opens her heart
her essence absorbed
two souls artistic beauty
a match written in stone
No Not Me
Did you think when I left
I'd never answer my phone,
ignore your messages,
never speak to you again?
Did you think I was that guy?
I thought you knew me
but it wasn't about me was it?
How often have others disappeared?
You were judging me as if I was them.
I guess I can't blame you,
life is not always kind.
But not me, no not me.
I'm not him,
It's my actions represent me,
define the man I am.
Words lie and eyes aren't always
an insight to every man.
You can't always trust their smile.
I bet the devil is an attractive male
with an inert charm and not a horn in sight.
You can't beat the sky in your own skin.
If your a demon you groom flawlessly,
dress like a king, with a look that's soft.
The wolf doesn't tell the sheep "I'm here!"
It's the guy with nothing to hide who is often
misconstrued. Honesty has it's price.
I don't blow dry my hair in the mirror.
practice my reactions.
I don't kiss up,
my nose is clean.
I don't always talk in a quiet melodic voice
or hide my tears. When I say it's alright
It just is.
I didn't walk away, I had to leave
but you can find me.
For you I am always here!
Did you think when I left I would disappear?
Never!
I hold you dear.
I'm always here.
No not you
You would never just walk away
Away from people or things you love
You don't always say what you feel in spoken
words,
yet you shout out your feelings in written words,
no lies are here, you write from the heart.
Your love holds no bounds, you love for life,
You say that your eyes are not an insight to your soul,
Yet when the light goes out, I know your dying inside
To walk away, no not you, to hide for a time,
Maybe,
.
Written by Maurice Yvonne and Seren
Crack that whip, jerk the line,
Let's start dancing it's no time to dine.
First you holler, then you sing
All join hands and make a ring.
Now if you please circle wide,
spread right out like an old cow hide.
Feed the Hogs, brand the calf,
Swing your honey once and a half
Now you switch on the heel and toe
Come gals and cowboys, don't be slow.
Allemande left with the corner maid,
Meet your own and promenade.
Everybody swing and whirl
Swing 'round and 'round with your pretty little girl.
Do si do don't you know,
You can't grab a rabbit until there's a snow.
Bow to you partner and the corner miss,
To the opposite lady just blow a kiss.
Chicken in the bread pan scratching out gravel,
get your maid & away you travel.
Lassies to your seats and gents you foller
Thank the fiddler and kiss the caller
Dated 11 October 2014
By Elton Camp
For the entirety of his married life
Maurice had been ruled by his wife
For anything that happened to occur
He had no choice but to answer to her
Just ordering him around wasn’t enough
Since Zelda was often violent and rough
Any disagreement she’d always win
Even if she had to use her rolling pin
They were driving one day when “Smash!”
With a Mack truck they had a bad crash
Bystanders took a look with dread
And found both of them were dead
Since Maurice, his former life did hate
He was glad to stand at the pearly gate
From domination, he expected relief
Without Zelda bringing him any grief
He thought heaven would be so grand
Then he saw Zelda, rolling pin in hand
The sights cut poor Maurice to his heart
“What happened to till death do us part?”
Maurice said, “St. Pete, if you don’t mind
The route to the other place I’ll try to find”
Maurice the frog was q###r; of this he had no doubt and all the lady frogs just made him yawn.
He sat all day on his lily pad, flicking his tongue at passing flies, with never a thought of ever wanting to spawn.
At night the pond was redolent with the sound of humping frogs, the 'revitting' would turn a young frog mad.
But, alas, poor Maurice's only joy was a male frog's fashion catalogue, bequeathed to him by his late, lamented dad.
And so he spent his idle hours with nary a care or frown, plodding along his solitary road.
Until the day in early spring his life turned upside down, on discovering he was, in fact, a toad.
This news, to him was quite a shock from a passing dragonfly, which alighted on a nearby flower frond.
‘You want to cross the road’, it said, ‘there's loads of toads like you having toady fun in their own toady pond’.
And from under his wing he produced a book, ‘Toads Only’, it said on the cover, Maurice turned to its centre pages eyes agog.
And there in Technicolor for all the world to see was a lady toad, spread-eagled on a log.
He was well and truly smitten as on her picture he did gaze, her bulging eyes as black as Yorkshire coal.
He thought about eating the dragonfly but quickly went off this, who needs fly when you can have toad in the hole.
So Maurice set off straight away, though the going was quite tough, the first leg almost gave him a heart attack.
But on the crest of the rise he could see the road and the toady pond beyond and was greeted by a passing Natterjack.
The uphill struggle behind him now his back legs found new spring, the going was much easier on the flat.
He thought of all the lady toads and the tadpoles they would have, another hop, another leap then - SPLAT!
The moral of this sorry tale is simple, short and sweet; the fairer sex will only make you cry.
Be happy in your own back yard, forget the frog and toad and next time - eat the dragonfly!
Glenn Turner and Randall "Randy" Thompson were the best police officer and volunteer firefighter in all of Cobb County, Georgia, until March 1995 (WWF Monday Night Raw and WWF Wrestle-Mania XI) and January 2001 (Raw Is War, WWF SmackDown!, and the WWF Royal Rumble) when their lives were taken away from their loving families by Julia Lynn Womack: aka the "Black Poisoning Widow." It seems that it was these two guys in uniform who married the same woman, especially when she was after their money, totaling hundreds and thousands of dollars, even in life insurance. Glenn and Randy have been killed by a deadly liquid by the form of Etheline Glycol rich antifreeze; Lynn Turner used it to spike that of lime-flavored gelatin (green Jell-O), sweet iced tea, and chicken noodle soup. Now, how cold-blooded was that? But to be honest, Maurice G. Turner and Randy Thompson, God rest their souls, really never should've met this gold digging assassin named Julia Lynn Womack (who's now dead) to begin with. Their families, their colleagues, and the citizens of Cobb County, Georgia, they still don't understand why the lives of these two men have to end in a tragic manner. They've got a bunch of whole lives ahead of them. But now that Lynn Turner, who killed both her police officer husband and her firefighter boyfriend, is dead, she can't hurt anyone else ever again. Randall and Glenn are no longer with their friends and families (including their moms), but their spirits will live on forever and they'll see their loved ones in heaven one day. And as for Julia Lynn Womack-Turner, she got what was coming to her and may she burn in the giant pit of inferno for all eternity.
Maurice was crammed full of buttock-clenching humors
One day in the month of May he poked Jannie's tumors
'Oh they are real groovy'
'Must taste like anchovy'
"How can you be so sure?' 'they are under my bloomers'.
Maurice Mc Muffin ate nothing but stuffin’
He wouldn’t eat meat fruit or veg
His mother went potty it turned her quite dotty
And was tipping her over the edge, so
She thought up a plan to provide the young man
With food both nutritious and yummy
Using her skill and determined to fill
That unhealthy space in his tummy
In her kitchen domain she vowed to remain
Whilst weaning him off of his diet
Trying all recipes and hoping to please
And praying that he would just try it
One day she was cooking and when she weren’t lookin’
Young Maurice crept in through the door
He tasted some pud and he found it was good
Saying “Mum can I please have some more”
Mum jumped for joy because her little boy
Found some food that he wanted to eat
Now he’ll scoff anything that his mother can bring
As long as it’s sticky and sweet
Five thousand years or more ago
A man, in peace, lived with his wife
But then, her father passed away
And thus began the days of strife.
They built a room and moved her in;
She quickly overran their space.
He, his beloved, often fought;
It was a sad, unhappy place.
They finally came to loggerheads;
Now you must choose! It’s her or me!
That night he slept beneath the stars;
It came to him, clear as could be.
Dear, I will build your mom a house
A house that you can clearly see
And I will even move her stuff
Then we can finally live free.
The wife agreed; she knew her mom
Would remain close, not far away
Because of all the stuff she had;
It was an easy thing to say.
The man got up before the sun
Announced he had a home to build
Grin on his face, spring in his step,
The man looked positively thrilled.
A fortnight gone, two weeks or more
At last they thought they heard the squeal
Here came the man, still with that grin,
Dragging a platform up on wheels.
He loaded Mom and all her stuff
Then headed back across the vale
And placed it all in her new house
Amidst protests to no avail.
His life improved, but not a lot
He still spends nights beneath the stars
Under that wagon, on a cot
He drifts to sleep, and dreams of cars.
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In response to Maurice Rigoler's question in the comments of Wheeler Dealer