Best Squeaky Clean Poems
I love the rain,
On some deep unconscious plain.
It seems to seep in and soothe
The pain of an overtired brain.
That never rests,
Because of the stress,
Brought about by bad choices.
And sometimes the voices
That never seem to leave me alone,
Behind the eyes they plot
And manage to accomplish
What they desire to dethrone.
The King of Hearts is now a Jack,
Using Diamonds to fill the void left by his Queen.
Using a Spade shovel, she buries their past,
And some of her skeletons too.
I mean, she wants to start fresh, and squeaky clean.
I love the rain. It brings forth new life,
An attitude changed; serenity, acceptance, courage to maintain.
To learn, to grow, to believe.
The hope of a new relationship,
And a budding love with my seed.
I need him, he needs me and we need him on high.
I must not waste anymore, the time's getting slim.
I love the rain.
Because it opens my mind,
My thoughts are simple, and the truth I seek, I find.
When there's a storm,
There's calm before and after,
But the journey through
I s, to me, what really matters.
I love the rain.
This shadow that I see with my back turned to the sun.
He represents me without fault and does not show my thinning hair
or blemish on my skin that's there, or any hidden thing,
or any other secret thing that's hiding deep within.
My shadow is the perfect mimic, knowing what it means to show the one who'd rather not be seen, who knows the look of squeaky clean,
and how to represent his Christ in just the way his Christ would like.
A disguising life, a respected man of God, and wife.
And while my back is turned my back is burned by scorching sun
'til midday cast will mean my shadow's fast retreat,
until my shadow's last deceit, until my shadow's full defeat,
and I and it are one.
And so I turn my face, I turn to face the Son,
a work of grace that won't relent 'til darkest shadow fades
and softens in that light of grace, that grace now long begun,
revealing not the dark within,
but beloved all along.
Jose, the kid on the corner --
El Macho -- who knows no English
and who sells himself to eat
(being still not quite dry)
slept last night in an alley
shielded from wind and eyes
by the bulk of two dumpsters
positioned at angles to each other.
This morning, his smile's
as brilliant as sunshine.
And if he's not exactly squeaky clean,
he's only a little the worse for wear --
probably more immaculate than are we,
potential buyers to whom he flaunts his wares.
Thought I'd write about something naughty
I'm good at it as you very well know
It comes from decades of ogling these ladies
And watching them put on a show
Seduced a young filly, jail bait for sure
Got away with it, but what an encounter
With tons of raw energy, nearly blew my mind
Should have left her alone where I found her
Hope the authorities don't get a hold of this
There's a possibility I'll disappear for a while
Serving some time in the old county jail
I hear inmates are quite quick with a smile
As soon as you read it, dump it in the trash
Don't want to take too many chances
Lived quite an honourable life until now
Don't wanna be a victim of circumstances
This was just a figment of my imagination
But I'm paranoid when it comes to the law
Have a squeaky clean record up until now
That's how I want to keep it, yeehaw!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Dilemma
Cold air of winter nights
Breath a visible mist
Gloves protect from frostbite
From fingertips to wrist
Ringing phone in my hand
Alerts important call
Now a flaw that’s unplanned
Gloves create a wall
Screen is shielded from a touch
This call I must now take
Removing hand from warmth’s clutch
Tough decision I must make
Snack attack
Squeaky clean with a hint of mint
Colored white, plaque is absent
Placed the brush by the sink
Now my stomach starts to think
A grumble calls from deep within
Hiding where my hunger’s been
What to do? The taste won’t please
Why does my stomach want to tease?
Hunger waits as I ignore
Thoughts of food and drink galore
With resistance I make a snack
And I brushed again, I’m back on track
When It Rains It Pours
Idiomatic sayings are such a delightful way of expressions,
The truth in them may sometimes stretch our imagination..
When it rains, it pours is one such expressive gem of wisdom..
When troubles in numbers mirror realism in a weather phenomenon..
Here in Bolehland widely hailed as a Land of Endless Possibilities...
Ernest concerted efforts are put in place to deny negative publicity...
Like minded politicians are staying resolute behind a highly ranked civil servant..
Whose exalted position demands he be above controversies as a public servant...
Electorates on the ground are increasingly befuddled and anguished each day..
As snippets of less than positive news and episodes are revealed each day...
It is widely accepted that the door of opportunity closes while another opens..
Likewise all tall tales of lies and deceit, numerous are the twists and turns...
Here in Bolehland, there is outright shock and disgust at the latest turn of events..
After months of in-depth investigative reports, no one could comprehend...
When the highest legal prosecution office in Bolehland triumphantly blared...
Despite the voluminous reports and papers, there was no crime to declare ....
The presumably guilty topmost civil servant was declared squeaky clean...
To top it all, he was so honorable as to have had returned millions unseen...
The gossip mill is rampant and unflattering over this latest seal of innocence..
More so when there are incoming news of global inquiry and investigations...
The court of public opinion is out there in the streets of Bolehland...
To the man in the street, he is seeing multiple acts of Houdini first hand...
But as the proverbial wisdom has so aptly been used when troubles abound...
When it rains, it pours, especially for someone in high office in Bolehland.....
To all interested, seat back and watch the melodrama as it unfolds by each day...
When it rains, it pours should hopefully reveal the elusive truth one fine day...
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.com/2016/01/a-world-of-scandal-descends-on.html?ref=source
https://sg.news.yahoo.com/twists-turns-najib-rm2-6-230008097.html?nhp=1
Writing affects your brain!
So all I want to do is write craftier and harder,
Using supercharged thoughts, converted from quantum data,
Letting it rain, running through my veins,
Seen, then caught by my Pen and paper that’s always on me,
The greater angels oversee thee,
In possession of the master key,
Fallen angels, demons, detect and pursue with greed wanting me,
So they can see what’s foreseen, by this writers understanding intellect,
So it’s time!!!! Weighty refined rhymes for the intellectual elect, on cloud nine,
Like Tetris, placing written strands in unity as motion proceeds crisper,
The earthly “menace to society”, with whispered inwards idea’s from the word gods,
Applauding the poetry lord underdogs, fast forward and pause,
This brains the world’s future source and the chosen land,
Literally the wisest literature outbursts expanding like the universe,
Taking it back, diverse and old school,
Home of the jewels but still dwelling with satanic obstacles,
These blanket ya soul and misrule like church rules,
Instead on to it, using powerful tools switching it up with upward techniques,
On a streak lasting a long life time as I tweak these unique axioms that the devils immortals seek,
Tardily as earth entities are weak, sickly sleepy, becoming known truths to some like a Wikileak,
Squeaky clean proverbs throwing curve balls you can’t engage with, no sophisticated athletic semantics,
Quick with my sixth sense, I won’t settle for second, I’m the dark horse,
So with force I wanna go harder and harder, become smarter and remove haver,
Keeping sharper, one hundred, an addict going out as a world class poetic martyr,
Hard to understand letter acrobatics, stacking up linguistic equations like mathematics,
I attack and fill up sacks with goodies, the giver like your Santa, this is my Mantra wrapped and delivered.
Quincy Mac
Date Written: 28.5.2016
Goth Girl, ebony black, manners slack, hit the sack
Gothic, Hispanic, remote chic, slick, sick
Goth Girl, non- conform, nonsense, hence
Gothic, lick lick lick, slurp, chirp
Goth Girl, tongue stud, bottle of bud, I could
Gothic, unromantic, drink quick, be sick
Goth Girl, give us a twirl, strip naked, curl
Gothic, sarcastic, bombastic, bliss, give us a kiss
Goth Girl, heart of stone, all alone, have a bone, go away, stay
Gothic, strange chic, sober, drunk, hic hic
Goth Girl, steer clear, cheers, rent arrears
Gothic, ankle boots with zip, zipperty doo dah, wheres the bar
Goth Girl, sexually free, three in a bed in garden shed, she said
Gothic, food on tick, pan non-stick, chuck a brick, night in nick
Goth Girl, nose ring, ring in nipple, bed is triple
Gothic, not the same, no shame, insane, country lane
Goth Girl, love you, love to screw, screw you, you too
Gothic, lethargic, Nostalgic, cares not, eats snot
Goth Girl, has knits, squeeze your zits, sqeeze your ****
Gothic, give us a twirl, Tobacco bag, share your shag
Goth Girl, Dark Sin, Virgin, like twin
Goth Girl, Hygiene, squeaky clean, smokescreen
Belle hung out and consorted with outlaws,
So folks shunned her and called her a scoff law;
But things aren't as they seem,
And though not squeaky clean,
'Twas the men in her life who were outlaws.
Sam Starr was a Cherokee man.
They married and lived on the land.
To friends who were weary,
They gave sanctuary,
In their home out on Cherokee land.
When Sam was killed in a gun fight,
Belle mourned his death day and night.
With him life was good,
He did what he could,
To provide what he thought was right.
To stay home on Cherokee land,
She must marry a Cherokee man,
So she married Sam's cousin,
Just to have a husband,
But Belle still missed her Sam.
Belle lost her life one fine day,
On her way home from a visit they say.
No one knows for sure,
For the history is poor,
But they ambushed her while on her way.
So the queen was brought to her knees.
Shot down like a dog if you please.
Remember this well,
And you won't go to Hell,
If you lay down with dogs you'll get fleas.
Squeaky Clean Floors of Teak
All clean and shiny is my teak
When they step on my
Glossy black my heart leaps
Joyous smiles deep down my timbers leak
You can see your face and physique
When you look at me
Don’t walk on me with your dirty feet
Shhh….. Whisper when you speak
If you’re real quiet you’ll hear me squeak.
To enjoy in the delight
Of trying new tastes
While having fun....
Oh, My! What a sight!
To play in tops & shorts,
No matter if there's shoes or not....
It's the pretty lacey pink dresses
With a bow or a rose
That will stay so delicate!
For "A Little Sweetie"
Who's just about to arrive
Bound for Lots of Love & Affection....
It was meant to be
A special place to call your very own!
To hear the laughter
Of catching bubbles in the air
Or blowing them as they pop....
You will become squeaky clean
Just like a bright new shiny penny!
So nice & warm
Snuggled in the arms
Of Mommy & Daddy
As she hears a lullaby or story
A little Princess will fall asleep....
That special bond will last forever!
Travel Bidet
Do you miss your bidet
When you are away
Have I got a treat for you
It is now travel sise
For those bidet wise
Who crave it for part of their loo
It’s a great gift to get
For the squeaky-clean set
And while I’m not the kind who would choose it
You might feel timid at first
But with your first squirts
You’ll find you gush every time that you use it
Uncle Mike might be teasing
But if you find it pleasing
Please don’t you share T.M.I.
The things that you do
In your own private loo
Are not things you share with a guy
START
Dancing in the Wind
While dancing in the wind, with the backdrop a blue sky
Snow gums bend their upper limbs, and appear to fly
Back and forth across their stage, in perfect harmony
To the rhythm of the wind, and its haunting symphony
Their costumes are so fresh and new; some rust, some grey, some green
And after a shower from heaven, their leaves are squeaky clean
The stage set's always changing, as clouds go racing by
These come from Kosciuszko - miles high in the sky
And so the gum-leaf dancers revel in ballet
To echoes of a mazurka, down the Alpine Way
In honor of Strzelecki, who came from another land
They twist and turn down the slopes, then pirouette in the sand.
oOo
END
Im in prison for commiting a crime
taking things that were not mine,
i went out into the general public,
and stole things from a random subject.
I hold up my hands and take the blame,
my picture in paper to add to my shame.
I realise now i went about it all wrong,
ill explain it all within this song.
I should have worn a suit to work,
commited my crimes with a smirk.
For id have the right as a civil servent,
my squeaky clean image and smell of detergent.
Oh how id laugh at the publics expence,
the poor,the peasents,the holiday tents.
While back inside my gentlemens club,
caviar,chianti and tax payers grub.
Sit smoking cigars by an open fire,
swopping stories of our selfish desires.
"I gave five pounds to a charity today,
then claimed it back within my pay"
"I claimed straws for my childrens party,
then more money to dress them smartly"
"I claimed for a jag in case the other breaks down,
then for another to potter round town"
"Well when the wife fell down the stairs,
i claimed thousands just for the repairs!"
"I claimmed a thousand just for one shoe,
then another five thousand for a rent boy or two".
Raise the taxes!
Theres not enough,
public funds to buy our stuff.
My ducks need a house,
a one that floats!
And i need money to dredge my moat!
I need a taxi to take me ten yards!
To see my neighbour and play charades
Then baffle the public with a few choice words
and change the subject,declare war on the kerds
But i wouldn't be breaking any rules,
these are important political tools.
So the motto of the story is i should have listined in school!
Instead im sat here on this prison stool.........
So you think you know just how us cowboys should behave
But listening to your jawing, I hear Chisholm spinning in his grave
A Cowboy who don’t drink or cuss, I’ll tell you that’s not right
Ain’t you heard of Old Whiskey Row, Where two cowboys got tight?
To go to tying knot’s in the Devil’s tail took more than lemonade
There’s been liquor on the bar in every movie John Wayne made
Back when Chisholm blazed the trail & cattle claimed the West
It was music round a campfire, as the hands settled for a rest
They’d often talk of home or sing a tune to pass the time
You’ve seen that in the movies, when it only cost a dime
They sang of Laredo, Lil Joe or maybe Annie Laurie
Right then & there you decided what a Cowboy ought to be
There are some things we might share with Hoppy, Roy & Gene
But real cowboys won’t ever be like those on the Disney scene
Any buckaroo can sure clean up sharp for a Saturday night dance
Even be persuaded to use pretty words when sparking a romance
We pick a little guitar and some can make that harmonica wail
But you’re just as apt to hear La Bamba as you are a song of the trail
Those cowboys that you talk of, all slick & squeaky clean
All pressed and starched, with proper speech, they ride a silver screen
You see that feller in the corner, all tattered & dusty, that’s the real McCoy
Battered old Stetson, mud & manure spackled jeans, a bonafide Cowboy
He might be rough around the edges and his language a bit coarse
But when he sets to working cattle, You swear he was born on a horse
We are only human after all; sometimes we just need to cut loose
Shoot out the lights, kiss all the ladies; drink our fair share of the booze
We still love our mommas and say grace with most meals
We just don’t handle being boxed, can’t stand the way it feels
Those who don’t tolerate a lot of rules choose the cowboy way
Much like this cowboy you see here before you today
I can see you are trying to sort this out in your head
For all you know of cowboys is what you’ve seen and read
I surely hope this little talk about cowboys made it all a bit clearer
The only one we answer to is the maker and the face in the mirror
I hate to burst your bubble, still you best here it from me
Cowboys can’t be pigeon holed; they must be wild & free
Catherine Lilbit Devine © September 19, 2005