Best Pick Of The Litter Poems
PICK OF THE LITTER
The other pups sold for eight hundred,
a thousand. She was bought, returned.
Too bright, too hard. A diamond.
We got her for a prayer,
and now we’re paying.
Oh those trickster-
sparkling eyes.
She’s price-
less.
I awoke again
In the same godawful place,
With wine bottles on the floor,
and egg on my face
"Thank Christ" I said...
...I honestly had no idea
Since the last time I'd eaten,
Where my next meal might be coming from
This Holiday Season.
They were fools to outlaw smoking indoors,
Because now that I live uncomfortably
In-between motel corridors:
I have all the working time in the Free World
To stand around outdoors
And have my pick of the litter,
As I literally pick through litter
- To pick myself the best pre-smoked cigarettes,
And then I redistribute the rest at a modest profit...
...So I've turned into a capitalist;
Big deal!
Just line me up against the wall
next fall!!!
What do I really care
either way???
- I'm half dead anyway...
From point A
To point B
And back again,
Throughout the edge of the night:
The cops won't let me sleep
Someplace that's safe from
The terrorizing nightlife
Of an indifferently frigid street life,
Where people like me are bait for the teenage:
"Keep on walking; Get a job" the cops say
- I wish the State would pay me
To bully the police for a change.
Next time I'm waiting at the breadline,
I'm gonna conquest for the affections
of a young butterbean:
If ya know what I mean?
...Not a fan of Kropotkin I can see...
Acquire peace of mind and serenity.for failure will not overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough.making my hide and my will tough.pushing my self to higher limits.and keeping god first like that number one digit.never fall in second place in this life style called the human race.but i will win even if i fall and stumble.ill look back at my competiters and remember to stay humble.cause i wasnt born to be a quiter. or fall in second place as if thats the pick of the litter.strive to always be number one and never quit til the job is done
Crème de la crème, that's what you are
The top of the heap, the pick of the litter
Ain't no others
Perpetual summers
When you appear, my life's all a-glitter
Once again, another failure.
It’s like the pick of the litter, it’s my flavor.
I climb the mountain, and I am almost there.
Then the wind of disappointment comes out of nowhere.
Yet again, I am at the bottom,
hopes and dreams again forgotten.
Why is my life up and down?
Should I keep trying or shut down?
Sometimes I am through with this rat race called my life.
If I cannot conquer my destined plight.
I break down on the playground and find myself in lockdown.
I don’t know what is worse, fighting an entity that I do not know,
Or facing the horrors of my former shadows.
The fruits of my labor did not start with me.
Perhaps I should search for my family tree.
In the roots of my ancestors, I might find the key,
To break the chains of this cyclical misery.
With each branch, a story, a lesson to learn,
A beacon of hope, for which I yearn.
For in their struggles, I might see,
The strength and resilience passed down to me.
So I rise once more, with renewed might,
To conquer my fears and reclaim my light.
For every fall, there’s a chance to rise,
And on my journey, I’ll find the prize.
Whence the time had come, for the winding road to shine,
(Orbiting in circles
Jumping Hurdles
Cyclonic sparkles)
Like a diamonté sun, caught in the clearing of vertiginous fog,
The brilliant bride adorned in light, her penguin-groom now in sight,
(White gown swooshing
Silky-soft soothing
Ready for swooning)
With tippy-top hat. But, she had to share through each smiling stare,
The plight of the giant groundhog’s fate. Her wedding day,
(Hog delightfully fat
Furry creature at-bat
Strange one to look at)
Likewise determined by the shadow of the burrowing creature.
His cast, long or short, nearer Winter or Spring? Would their bliss last?
(A stranger crowd
And mighty loud
Mightn’t she disavow?)
The circus ring, of freaky guests, part the way for the bridal party.
Phil, like a vampire, shadowless, so the February-Spring bride cries,
(Puxatawny straight
Too little, too late
Love would have to wait)
Laugh, cries and flees on the groundhog as a runaway bride.
Epilogue:
This happens every year,
Poor Tippy-Top fears,
The pick of the litter
Always gets the wedding day jitters.
Aha moment…Valentine’s day
Might be a better connubial date.
Whirling twirling
Sends hat spinning
He might be winning
Now where, to tell his intended, to take a hike…
Forget those warnings from the FBI
If you hear a baby's cry outside
In the dead of night - don't go out there.
Sure. That's going to be easy to ignore.
The second I hear a baby’s cry
I will not remember it could be a trick. I am going out there to save that baby.
I have read this is how serial killer get their victims out of their houses.
I don't care! The second I hear a baby,
I will run outside, in the dead of night, in my pajamas.
Without any thought of myself.
If there is a serial killer out here,
He can rest easy. He has his pick of the litter.
There are six women out here searching for that baby.