Best Shat Poems
There was a time.
There was a time
When your fabled dreams
Seemed honest
A time when
Your open arms
Coated in dented silver and tainted dreams
Understood my Size 12 shoes
When the world seemed to be against you
Yet, still,
Your blunt eloquence welcomed me home
Then, your “rainbow”…
…shat
t
er
ed
Your heartbeat became an arrhythmia of petulant theatrics.
Your topaz coated spit
Released from refilled white-out bottles,
Brushing away quartered moons of an iridescent shame
A copycat of robotic muses
Infringing upon your pedestal,
Turned loud mouth, afflicting broken tongue
The “Stalin” of a messenger’s wit,
You raised your voice to a poignant sky!!!
And, as if Yahweh cured your muted disorders,
EVERYBODY HEARD YOU!!!
Including me
That was your goal…
…excluding me
From incipient edge, I witnessed you,
A turpentine puddle in front of a confessional booth
On a melancholic Thursday morn,
With ripened glares to avoid your hallways
Tangled, dangling pacifiers as your doorbell
...
There will come a time.
There will come a time
When social feeds will deprive your vexing smile
Of validation
Where ignorant heartbeats will awaken
Through lyrical epiphanies
To see your “rainbow”
As a faded, stolen crayon
Where flirtatious dialect from withered accomplice
Licks cubic zirconium’s aftertaste
Forgetting that karma doesn’t tolerate one-night stands
For me, that time is now.
Then, I knew who you were.
Now, I know who you are.
You are not what you say.
A false advertisement in Sunday’s illiterate paper…
…with erased verbatim amongst your mirrored peers
Remembering how you falsified truth’s smile
Dire requests for empathetic warmth of our yesterdays
Yet, my Agnostic coat could never be thick enough
For your saturated, dual face
©Drake J. Eszes
Psycho Evaluation
Physically unable to deal with all this stress
a clinical Psychiatrist said that I am depressed
No shat Sherlock you are such a genius
10 years of college for this uneducated guess
Yah you're just an Idiot with an ego to caress
Pockets full of pens and eyeglasses to impress
Yes we all notice the impeccable way you dress
Armani styled striped suit all ironed and pressed
It looks quite expensive only the best for the best
No I don't want to do your magic ink blotter test
You act as if by the Almighty you are blessed
Just like the Preacher trying to get us to confess
So how do I know this won't end up in my arrest
I guess I'll just have to remove you in the end more or less
Now who is the one that's stressed???...
revised 04/27/16
I miss so many things: the old pear tree, which once lived by the walk and the bees inside. The bees almost never stung, but made the most delightful buzz. The smell of the pear blossoms and the fruit as it rotted on the ground. I even miss the colonies of ants, which swarmed. You see, I chopped it down. Well, the bees stung my ex-husband, or, he was scared of the bees, or some such thing. The bees like the cat, knew more about the true core of the man than I did. Once the cat shat on his side of the bed, and pulled the sheet over it. Even then, I didn’t really hear nature’s call. I miss the rose bushes, which I tore out because of the June bugs. “Mustn’t have untidy, ugly, things around me,” fool that I was, and continue to be. I have almost eradicated the wild violets. Soon, even I will be gone. “Who will remember all that sweetness? Oh, the pear crisp with crumbled cinnamon crust on a Fall day, all gone.”
a mown lawn
stretches to the horizon –
a hedge clipper whir
The Rose Queen was a lesser villain than I. She was imaginary and I am real, or so I believe. “If you’d lived with Alice would you have played croquet with a flamingo club?”
First Published in Contemporary haibun January 2014
O' Forgive me Lord; for I have so sinned
I put my rubbish; in my neighbours' bin
It wasn’t like there wasn’t, enough room
But did she have to hit me with a broom
With the neighbours gathered for a laugh
In fact; in the end there was quite a cast
After that whack I was amazed I survived
It was not long; before the police arrived
As police took statements, in their scores
Delving through the rubbish; is this yours
Holding high a plastic bag, knotted neatly
Yes, I am afraid it is, I replied; so sweetly
With evidence bagged, I then taken away
Charged; up in court that making my day
I was named and shamed with a £100 fine
Where community service, I was assigned
Alas, I'm picking rubbish, up off the street
And never again my sins will I ever repeat
So after that, I was clever, knew the score
With no one looking, shat outside her door
I heard her screams and smiled in content
Lessons learned, revenge was heaven sent
O Yeah, revenge was heaven sent . . .
Lake Eliza 2...
Out near dusty Lake Eliza
Lived sweety tart, where flies are
Sucked oddly Emu eggs some sunny days
Like a dozen egg appetiser (1 egg = 1 dozen fowl egg)
She got em off the miser
Rotten eggs old Emu walked away (in disgust)
Of course she had a rooster
Who had a name like Zac the Brewster
Who was always a riding the duck
So she shot him with a trap gun…(3/4” water pipe)
12 gauge lead did flatten one
Rooster on toast laughed ol Chuck
A Sand goanna lame
wanted eggs just the same
So he crawled into the chook house for a feed (fowl abode)
Duck Chuck saw him there
spat n shat n tore his hair
rode the old Goanna yes indeed
So we leave ol Lake Eliza
without being any wiser
just beware of Ducky Chuck
and the ol tart that lingers
and the rancid smelly dingus
just rotten emu eggs you’re out of luck Don Johnson
I don’t like the rules,
So I just won’t follow them,
They make writing all dry and stiff,
Tasteless Weither it be bitter or sweet,
“Flaws”,
“Mistakes”,
“Sloppy and disorganized”,
That’s how humans are just like,
Just like my poetry and writing style,
Humming my toon as I walk and dance,
You start to notice when you read my work,
Its the Varry toon of someone living and experience,
Once you read this I hope you see,
I pray you hear shat I hear,
The stars of dreamers shining bright,
The cries of the appressed by oppressor',
My style,
My technique,
My varry existence,
MY SHINING SOUL,
It can be mocked and talked down to,
It can be broken down by oppressors,
But even so I’ll write till my last word,
I’ll write till the name Dragonstar means something,
Until my style less style becomes a statement.
Until my toon is Hurd and Agknolaged.
-Kitsuko Dragonstar
,
While others writers think of love
you’ve shat on that pure white dove.
Before on and on, I must go,
I’m telling others of what I know.
Love to ride the ‘Royal Scotsman,”
but this train I’m on is full of flotsam.
What I’m saying is so loaded with duress,
Its’ like riding the “Midnight Express!”
When you first pulled into my station,
this old heart was filled with elation.
At first things really went fine,
unscheduled love was always on time.
But love doesn’t run on a rigid time table,
I’m tossing you off while I’m still able.
I’m not one to be keeping score,
don’t catch your ass in the exit door.
First you changed from commuter to freight,
all the while saying “ain’t this great?”
Now I’m carrying a very heavy freight load,
my heart is chugging, ready to explode.
You always think you’re the lead conductor,
No wonder friends call you Hannibal Lucktor.
I’m tired of you always blowing your whistle,
you’re the pain in the ass you get from a thistle.
You were demoted from engineer to porter,
this really screwed up our manifest order.
Instead of your up front driving, which I loved,
ya put a foot in my ass n’ shoved.
Day n’ night your mouth goes Yakity Yak,
driving your hate spikes Klickety Klack.
Since I’m not the last one you let on board,
love’s driven down, now I am floored.
Folks would say our love’s a signal flop,
so I’m getting off before the flag stop.
And where would that next place be?
Where you try to totally, dominate me!
I know where the air brakes on this train are,
you’ve switched from sleeper to a baggage car.
You always lash out with such hysteria,
makes me think you’ve got diphtheria.
So I am punching your last ticket to ride,
Frankly, you can shove or stick it inside.
Before I lose the last of my brain,
you n’ yer baggage jump another runaway train.
* For Runaway train contest and no this certainly isn't about me. LOL
Subsequent seances of satorizing sanctities signal two fold sinfold shat sightings of nevertheless neverings that all ways
super suggest our innate inadequacies pertinent to socio precious
pontifications post prevalant askings of the revr
irrevelant rationings of a rationedrace resigned to complacent cow a tures politico compliant to the inner igno twinings adjacent to your soul
sellings as they relate to yr inner partisanplasmic potentials. remember yr humble DNA, beginnings as they restorocoordinate
yr predisposed primary plastic parental beginnings as to what is for u as an emo entitiy. As a parent times three of the son persuasion,
I can contrast contemplate the socioprotocals that r supposed sublime to cater to the male powers to be and socio sale the rental rites of
tremors that will swell the estrogenic ebb tides of common bond intelligence. I am at a personal peramater that is awash with the
paritisan status quo and the beliefs that LIE within the scope of their being. Retread the constitution and all that the FF's put into place for
the good of the postulate union as a WHOLE. Persuasion is inconsequential, no matter,
in---adequate as to its modern day relevance explicit. If u can't sociocope and lean really far foreward, and do us a big
FAVOR AND OFF YOURSELF, OR CONVERT, INTELLIGIZE YOURSELF, RE EVAUATE YOUR brAIN RELiaANCE, SEEK STRENGHT FROM YR gone YOUTH, IF U CAN STILL FIND IT, AND GO
INWARD TO LEAP OUTWARD TO HELP ALL OTHERS
REGARDLESS OF RECOGNITION, WEALTH, SENIORITY OR ANY SELFSERVING SIGNAGE OF SELF RIGHTEOUS SIGNFICANCE.
THE BEST HELP IS THAT WHICH IS GIVEN, USED, AND PASSED ON, NO THANKS NEEDED,
PAY IT FORWARD times 3. Give is as Give does in the insignificant web we weave. Careful with who u have for breakfast,lunch, dinner, snack,desert
and night cap. All things being ugly equal r alive and wish u ill. Perverse protocol is protected in a nestled non conveyrance of abbey normal malice. Step right up!
On tuffet to eat whey and curds
Miss Muffet is shat on by birds
All seems to be well
As she can't smell or tell
Curds and whey are now just two-thirds
If you don't understand this allegory--read the note below:
Our biggest threats have always been from above--bad drugs, bad food, bad banking, bad leadership into aggressive war, massive pollution, etc. The list is quite long, yet these individual "bad things" often seem to escape detection as they creep up on us--something like a spider.
Don’t it make you feel like a no life, enslaved sap?,
To follow your dog around
As he looks for a place to crap?
And if that’s not enough, oh my aching word,
You follow him back home toting his turd!
Just one more rhyme and then I’m through.
Who is the leash for ….. the dog or you?
Okay I lied about the rhymes; there’s two..
As a matter of fact, I’d rather care for a cat,
They cover it themselves once they’ve shat.
Inspired by people /pet watching in an association.
What is it about American divorcees
and the British Royal Family?
Sadly it never ends well.
The Duke and Duchess of woke!
Harry, what were you thinking?
Harry, what have you become?
Harry, Why? Why? Why?
Harry, she’s no Princess Di.
After Michelle and Hillary and Nancy
your precious commoner bride
is the most insufferable bit-ch.
Harry, you are a spoiled brat!
Harry, you are an entitled prat!
Harry, on the Queen you shat!
Harry, Why? Why? Why?
Harry, she’s no Princess Di.
And now we have the big interview
with that infuriating Oprah
so poor Meghan Debacle can tell
us all how mistreated she is,
and how victimised she is
by her haters and her tormentors.
Girl, what a narcissist you are.
Girl, what a diva and what a liar.
Spare us all your fake tears!
Spare us all your fake fears!
Spare us your racist tales!
Spare us your lectures and rails!
God save the Queen from you
and that ginger whinger too!
O Harry, Why her? Why?
O Harry, Why? She’s no Princess Di.
Written: March 2021
Wrote this 18 months ago
but after recent pod casts
I just couldn’t help myself.
I spent a year or two aboard
A sea faring vessel
Through the gale and through the rain
With Lord Neptune I did wrestle
Me Capitan was a wise old man
With experience beyond my years
And when he got to talkin
You shut yer mouth and opened yer ears
One night after supper this he said to me
Whiskey was made for drinkin
And the sand was made for shores
If a sailor gets caught with a married girl
He best not lose his oars
I spent some time locked up
In a hard walled Turkish prison
All that time inside
Left me my home a missin
And While I was a hostage
My roommate was a rat
Scaly tail and whiskered nose
Twas on my bed he shat
And one night after supper this I said to him
Whiskey was made for drinkin
And the sand was made for shores
If I ever get back home
Ill kiss the ground down on all fours
I found myself in confessional
There to tell a sin
I waited in the booth alone
Until the priest was in
Sitting there debating
Of what I thought I should say
How should I tell an old ecclesiastic?
About a wild young man’s way
And so when he stepped in, this I said to him
Whiskey was made for drinking
And the sand was made for shores
I got caught with a married girl
But I didn’t lose me oars!
I don't know what to think about Haiku's. Haiku!
it's kinda like a sneeze
haiku kinda sounds like hah chooo
so then ka-zunn-tite!
She's giving me a back rub Haiku!
I need to fart bad
if I do she won't rub me
jeeze I shat my self
The Divine Plan of Nature Haiku!
just for the butt hole
turds are tapered on the ends
so it don't slam shut
The One and Only Law Needed for the World to get Along! Haiku!
Everyone is free
so long as they don't take that
right from someone else
by Capt Mike
A software programmer named Arty Fishal
Tried to design something beneficial
But his programming
Was rather damming
Not unlike intelligence, artificial
As they push their wannabe pie in the sky
In our face until we see eye-to-their-eye
But the more they push
That tells me their tush
Actually shat out the @#$%!, they call AI
We learn that it takes lots of borrowed money
To try making us believe clouds are sunny
So they’re giving a try
At slinging AI
Which is too devious to be funny
Wildlife 24
A chirpy and suave young blue tit
Perched on a branch for a bit
Down below sat a cat
So the bluebird just shat
And the cat threw a terrible fit!