Best Partied Poems
On the eve of All Saints Day known as Halloween
We've a night where nothing is ever as it seems
Abraham, Martin and John hosted a grand ball
In heaven’s huge castle, a white marble town hall
Dancing and singing just like every other day
One old soul grew weary of celebrating this way
She found nothing special in the harps and trumpets
A more exciting venue she had come to covet
St. Peter partied, his gate was unattended
So to a room below the bored soul descended
A place where heavy metal was all the rave
Deadheads converged to stomp violently on graves
She was tempted to join in their revelry
As demons eyed her with curious envy
One grabbed her halo, howled when it burned his hands
Others confronted her with obscene demands
Only then did she recall escaping this place
When God sacrificed his son, mortal sin to erase
Although hands of the wicked tried to hold her down
She struggled, pushed forward and made her way uptown
Fearfully she cried while knocking on heaven’s gate
St. Peter found her in this emotional state:
“Why didn’t you learn to resist temptation,
During your tenuous Earthly incarnation?”
At a loss for an answer, she pled for mercy
And Peter felt inclined to deem her unworthy
But the Master heard her prayers, granted a reprieve
He blessed her and uttered, “Welcome home again, Eve.”
Her departure from Eden seemed so long ago
And now most certainly one thing she did know
She should have stuck with Adam when he first said, “No”
Instead of bobbing for apples with the demons below
* For Tony Brooks' “Halloween Hustle” contest
Let's All Drink to Lockdown
by Jan Beaumont ©
I'm normally a social girl
I love to meet my mates
But lately with the virus here
We can't go out the gates.
You see, we are the 'oldies' now
We need to stay inside
If they haven't seen us for a while
They'll think we've upped and died.
They'll never know the things we did
Before we got this old
There wasn't any Facebook
So not everything was told.
We may seem sweet old ladies
Who would never be uncouth
But we grew up in the 60s -
If you only knew the truth!
There was sex and drugs and rock 'n roll
The pill and miniskirts
We smoked, we drank, we partied
And were quite outrageous flirts.
Then we settled down, got married
And turned into someone's mum,
Somebody's wife, then nana,
Who on earth did we become?
We didn't mind the change of pace
Because our lives were full
But to bury us before we're dead
Is like red rag to a bull!
So here you find me stuck inside
For 4 weeks, maybe more
I finally found myself again
Then I had to close the door!
It didnt really bother me
I'd wile away the hour
I'd bake for all the family
But I've got no flaming flour!
Now Netflix is just wonderful
I like a gutsy thriller
I'm swooning over Idris
Or some random sexy killer.
At least I've got a stash of booze
For when I'm being idle
There's wine and whiskey, even gin
If I'm feeling suicidal!
So let's all drink to lockdown
To recovery and health
And hope this awful virus
Doesn't decimate our wealth.
We'll all get through the crisis
And be back to join our mates
Just hoping I'm not far too wide
To fit through the flaming gates!
Once upon a midnight, ghostly,
Partied many, dead ones mostly.
Feasting in the graveyard, sprightly,
White eyed werewolves gorged, engrossedly.
In the bone yard, drab and squalid,
Apparitions (staring stolid
Neath the veiled moon, clouded lightly)
Sought fresh bodies, lean but solid.
Fiendish eyes shone, light and sparkly,
Ghouls and demons danced so darkly.
Maggots munching mush unsightly,
Black blood streamed like ink, quite starkly.
Fetid flesh oozed, flowing freely
Through the crypt doors, cold and steely.
Shadows, ashen, pranced contritely,
Ebon serpents slithered eely.
As it happens, all too often,
Zombies dimly closed the coffin –
Ra, the sun god, rising slightly
Hunger pangs were soon to soften.
If you ask, I’ll tell you blankly,
When you’re feeling dark and dankly
Come to where this happens nightly.
They’ll enjoy the feast, quite frankly...
The black ones I got from my mother,
The glamourpuss Welsh princess;
The red ones came from my dad,
The freckled Irish redbeard;
The blonde ones were mine as a baby,
Ringlets that bounced when I ran;
As a child I turned to a light brunette,
Thick and fine, flecked with my ancestry.
But the grey ones are all my own doing:
I made them, I earned them, I deserve them,
I worried them into my life,
I worked and partied, I pushed myself for them,
Those late nights are there to be seen,
And all the hair dye in the world
Can't cover up who I've been.
I have babysat a roomful of six year olds,
my heart beating louder than a pack of screaming hyenas.
I walked out with them quiet and safe in their parents arms.
I improvised a speech to an audience of millionaire entrepreneurs
that ended in a standing 'O'.
Often I danced with titanic sharks,
and even French Kissed Killer Whales.
I have slept deep in the grip of ink black jungles
on mid summer nights, no dream.
Once I hung on with two broken arms
five hundred feet above my demise, without a whimper.
I skated through fields of dead bodies
in not just one but two very nasty wars.
Played tag with the devil and in the end hung
his left horn above my fireplace,
yeah my fireplace I owed him that.
I swam naked on the crest of a waterfall
from the top of its peak to the concrete sheet at its bottom.
Many times, I have partied with death,
her bones drenched in the fluids of our perverse acts,
but not once did she leave the party with me on her arm.
But please,
p
p
p
p
p p p please,
don't,
please don't,
make me talk to my EX-WIFE again!
10~10~2014
Holidays are coming; the first is near
Halloween is a night that many fear
But the bravest ones boast
"I'm not afraid of ghosts!"
Until eerily haunting cries they hear.
There's feasting on November's holiday
Giving thanks for our blessings, we pray
But I burned the turkey
So, we ate beef jerky
On a table set in splendid array
Christmas; the holiday season of mirth
Jen partied until the time she gave birth
There was too much good cheer
We drank three kegs of beer
On New Year's Day, not a cent were we worth
Occasionally I'll have a beer or two...
But never do I get drunk
Except one time in my early years...
When I was a wild teen-age punk
My friends and I bought a keg of beer...
To go party and to have some fun
We drank, and drank, all night long...
Until the keg was done
We partied at my parents house...
When they left for the night
They went away for their anniversary...
So the timing seemed just right
Nearly one hundred friends came over...
To my planned up backyard bash
We drank our beer, and smoked our pot...
Then, most went home to crash
But before the night was over...
We played a game of dare
I was so drunk, for twenty bucks...
I shaved off my eye brow hair
Man, did i look funny...
With no eye brows on my face
So I stole my sister's mascara
From her "fix me up" make-up case
I painted on new eye brows...
Thinking it would look alright
Boy oh boy, was I so wrong, because...
It turned out, my idea was not so bright
I had to go to work in the morning...
To sell push-cart Ices in the park
My hours were from eleven a.m.
Until, the day got dark
With the sun beating down upon my face
The mascara dripped and smeared
No wonder why, everyone who looked at me
Had looked at me...so weird (lol)
So, when ever I drink beer these days...
I'll never drink to get drunk again
Funny, how I can now laugh about those times...
That had happened way back when
I was one of the cool set,
navy blue duffle coat, scarf around
my neck, seated at a table
in Pepe's Coffee Lounge
discussing Baudelaire
and T.S. Eliot and the demise
of the political elites.
The conscription ballot hung
over our heads helmeted
in a flowering of uncombed hair
in the winter of 1966.
We thought the world was about
to tip, that the old regime
was coughing its last
on Craven A and Camel cigarettes.
Booze was cheap and jobs
chased us down the street.
In a hundred buried silos,
annihilation was just a push
of a button away.
We partied hard beneath
the threat of that mushroom cloud.
We're old now, sit under the cloud
of our own thoughts, replaying
scratchy, worn out tracks
retrieved from the sleeves
of our neural LP's.
What we tore down back then
has been replaced with more
sinister demons that eat away
at the collective soul.
In the end, everything
is just reabsorbed.
Some of us still frequent
coffee shops and discuss
Baudelaire and T.S. Eliot,
still write poetry,
shed a tear
at the melancholic beauty
of a setting sun.
I was four when I partied like it was 1999.
Didn’t know what Y2K meant—
thought it was a new kind of Ribena.
Mom said the world might end,
so we had fish fingers and Angel Delight
like it was our last supper.
She danced in the kitchen—
hip in one hand, remote in the other—
Prince on the telly,
sky outside grey as school uniform.
She said,
“If the world’s going to blow, we might as well boogie.”
So I did—
in jelly sandals,
on sticky lino,
thinking bombs were just what happened in cartoons.
The grown-ups were worried about computers—
I was worried about monsters under the bed.
Same thing, really.
I built bunkers from sofa cushions.
Told my teddies we’d be safe.
Asked Mom if I could stay up ‘til midnight
to see the sky explode.
She let me—
even though it didn’t.
Instead, we counted down
with paper hats, party poppers,
and a bowl of Wotsits big enough
to survive the apocalypse.
Prince said life was a party.
Mom made it gospel—
taught me the sacredness of silliness.
She sang with her eyes closed,
as if she could out-sing war.
As if dancing could un-plug the world’s doom switch.
And maybe it could.
There was a lion in her pocket too—
fierce in her softness,
roaring through a tinny tape deck.
She had a knowing in her sway,
like she understood what purple skies meant
long before I did.
Now I’m older,
and every headline feels like a countdown.
Still, I keep Ribena in the fridge
for emergencies.
Still, I dance—
barefoot on carpet,
arms full of invisible glitter,
like I’m four again
and nothing bad can touch me
while the music plays.
If the world ends again,
I’ll dance.
I’ll think of Mom.
I’ll play that song—
loud enough to shake the windows
and remind the sky
that we were here,
dancing,
as if forever still mattered.
Tim was the new judge in Deadwood Flat
Not really qualified, just a rancher at that
He first case was of the outlaw, Horace Slade
Caught red handed in a cattle raid
The jury took ten minutes to recommend the noose
Better than letting this rattlesnake loose.
Tim smoothed out his robe, asked Slade to speak
Slade perked up, though his future was bleak
"It was only my brain, my brain it was me.
Badly constructed, that's how I plea
My thoughts, my feelings, my crooked way
All preprogrammed in my DNA!
"You see Dad was a member of the cardshop mob
Mom always drunk, and moreover a slob
My twin set a cat on fire at the age of three
So, who could predict much hope for me?
Tim panicked, searched his dictionary
Couldn't find DNA, wished he was on the prairie
He had never heard that excuse before
But said to Slade, "proceed, tell us more"
Slade felt hope, and got on a roll
He said "ain't no such thing as a soul'
"I know the computer hasn't been invented yet
"But we're programmed, coded, our path in life set!
"I shot a man to watch him die
Then partied at the bar for an alibi
Not my fault, an MRI would have shown
My limbic system, quiet as a stone.
The jury murmured, Tim gave a sigh
What was a computer, or an MRI?
Slade's nonsense was going too far
Slade could have used a lesson in better P.R.
Tim said, "I hope what you say is not true
I like soul and spirit, the afterlife too.
But either way, some feelings I can't transcend
My brain wants your pointless existence to end!
They planned to hang Slade on the Alder tree
Justice would be served, jury did agree
Then Slade tried a ploy, to explain his crime
He yelled "I'm a traveler through time!"
"I come from the year 2024
DNA, MRI, computers and more
Got stuck in a time warp, had to survive
You'd do the same to stay alive"
They had to let Slade go, agreed he's insane
Tim didn't like to do it, it went against the grain
But Deadwood Flats couldn't hang a guy
Who believed in computers, DNA, and MRI!
The Finest Antebellum Mansion in the South
By Elton Camp
Windsor was near the banks of the Mississippi River
Extreme luxury, size, beauty and comfort it did deliver
The manor was completed just before the Civil War
It’s builder, Smith Daniell, couldn’t asked for more
Only a few weeks after his palatial home was complete
Its wealthy owner became ill and his own death did meet
His heirs were left a four-story house & a huge plantation
It depended on slave labor that was ruining the nation
Windsor had twenty-five rooms, each with a fireplace
And running water and inside baths the house did grace
A rare feature indeed: that two dumbwaiters were found
From floor-to-floor more easily to move the food around
A ballroom on the fourth floor had an observatory atop
The rigors of a civil war threatened to bring it to a stop
It came to be used by rebs and yanks, so it did survive
And the family who owned it managed to stay alive
The mansion become a social center for the entire state
Invited guests arrived early, partied and the stayed late
But, in 1890 to Windsor the greatest disaster then befell
A guest left a lighted cigar on the balcony and it then fell
After the fire, only the thirty-foot-high columns did stand
And an architectural treasure disappeared from the land
The magnificent ruins remind of the South’s glorious past
And that no civilization built on human suffering can last
If a glimpse into the way planters lived you wish to see,
Go only a few miles from Port Gibson and there it will be
The ruins will remind us of some ancient Grecian temple
But built at the expense of slaves kept uneducated & simple
For pictures of the mansion go to http://www.scribd.com/doc/57710764/The-Finest-
Antebellum-Mansion-in-the-South
The picture of the ruins was taken years ago by the noted
writer Eudora Welty of Jackson, Mississippi. Some of the
English faculty at my college actually knew Eudora and had
studied under her at various workshops.
happy birthday
it started in the usual way -
getting up - getting dressed - working all day.
but this evening - this evening was mine.
as i drove home - in a hazy dream-
floating on a silver lined cloud -
i knew - this evening was mine.
my little house - so gay - the birds-
even the flowers seem to say, this
evening was mine. and when i
opened the door - something was wrong -
it was my birthday and you were gone.
it was just another day to you -
i buried my hurt, those salty tears -
i can't believe that one day held
so many years, but i buried those tears.
i opened champagne, i sang, i danced-
i partied that evening not casting a glance-
at your picture on the mantel, it was my
birthday and you were gone.
i could not see you in the dancing balloons,
that colored my drink, i never saw
you in the glass - i never felt your
presence that night.
it was my birthday - and you, you were gone.
On December the sixth, we were waiting for snow
As I drove to the house of little Heath and Bo.
I was chilled to the bone as I got in my car,
Thankful I didn’t have to drive very far.
As I drove through the town, I looked at the lights
The Snowmen the Santa’s such beautiful sights.
I passed by a church with a manger so dear,
Remembering Christmas is drawing very near.
The peace of the season began to warm my soul
And soon I stopped thinking I was at the North Pole.
With presents in my one hand and chocolate in the other,
I arrived at the home of the sister and brother.
Their eyes were just sparkling with smiles all aglow,
It was Nikolaus day for good children you know.
We opened the presents, sang songs and we read.
Then partied till the children were tucked in their bed.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
12.06.2013
As Noah gathered his flocks, and he gathered his herds
Two by two, from the frogs, to the birds
They would follow the leader, right into the ark
Indeed, he was told "Build a ship, and embark!
There's a flood coming soon, 40 days, 40 nights
Some thought he was crazy, his decision a plight!
Noah's two monkeys, had a devilish side!
They quickly jumped on the back of the elephants' hides
They took unfair advantage
Even carrying their luggage
While these jumbo sized taxis....gave them a ride
Horace and Doris were at the end of the line
As tortoises go, they would need extra time
Inching their way up, took an hour...so slow
While the rest of the group, cheered them on from the bow
till finally they were sealing ship's bolted door shut!
And soon rains were pouring, first sprinkles, then lots!
At dinner each night, as they would gather to dine
Like a cruise, quite gourmet, .....big buffets , even wine
They bought in the first course, a huge bowl of soup
In the hot broth was a rabbit, swimming in loops!!
"Oh Noah! Come quickly!"..."There's a hare in my soup!!"
And soon all the twosomes, were laughing and hooting
The ark was party, filled to the brim
Two for the road, and one for the swim
They would follow the leader, right into the ark
Indeed, he was told "Build a ship, and embark!
There's a flood coming soon, 40 days, 40 nights
Some thought he was crazy, some partied all night
But the risk was a good one, it seems he was right!
Circumstances might make us lose faith in our whims
And it might look as if all our chances are dim
Do not give in ! Or at least have fun
For laughter's the best medicine under the sun!!
___________________________
I went to a monster party,
At Castle Frankenstein;
With lots of food and spirit,
The fun kicked off at nine!
Ol' Frankie did the robot,
I stepped to a jitterbug;
The floor began to quake,
We really cut the rug!
I moved on to a sexy witch,
We slid across the room;
I broke down in a two-step,
While dancing with her broom!
I was jammin' to the Charleston,
The Werewolf joined in too;
Igor failed to fight the beat,
He danced without a clue!
Dracula did the tango,
I boogied with the Bride;
The Mummy looked bewildered,
As we did the electric slide!
I tap danced on a table,
Three zombies did the same;
I stripped down to my boxers,
They shouted out my name!
Jekyll was rather classy,
Wielding his futile pride;
When the music struck within,
He turned to Mr. Hyde!
The chandelier was shaking,
Skeletons hit the floor;
I danced to a rumba,
The crowd was wanting more!
Everything was peachy,
Oh what a beautiful night;
Along came the Invisible Man,
And started an awful fight!
He squeezed the Bride's booty,
Other ladies felt the same;
And when the dust had settled,
Guess who took the blame?!
Off went the music,
So long to our fun;
I had no other option,
But to tuck my tail and run!
Those who partied with me,
Were raising such a chatter;
The crowd was crying out,
"Put his head on a platter!!"
I aroused the little lady,
To an ear-piercing scream;
Hallelujah for a nightmare,
It was just an awful dream!
Was it really just a dream?
A thought raced through my head;
"Honey, I have a question",
"Why's that witch hat on our bed?"