Best Stiff As A Board Poems
Lecherous Luther was wont to grope
He ceased to function at the end of a rope!
Here lies Cletus as stiff as a board
He slipped on the ice and busted his gourd!
Here rests our dear Ruby who failed to duck
She was beaned on her noggin by a hockey puck!
Egbert the boxer took a fatal jab to the jaw
He died on the spot for failing to yaw!
Interred below is Purvis rigid and prone
Alas, he choked on a chicken's bone!
How we lament the loss of Naomi our sister
She was whisked up and away by a Kansas twister!
Dudley kept in shape by regularly joggin'
Alas, he tripped and fell crackin' his noggin!
Phineas was laid to rest for his eternal snooze
He died too young because of his fondness for booze!
Wilfried didn't heed the warning regarding the curve
He met his doom in a Lamborghini for failing to swerve!
While breaking a bronc Tex was abruptly unhorsed
Perhaps the task would've gone better outsourced!
A rising on Valentines
Resur – e – rection
Four AM Valentines morn, I awoke,
stiff as a board – stands a mighty oak,
reaching up to heavenly skies – empty –
whishing upon a star that would not be
a heavenly body for me – that pink cloud,
sweet, delicious – ecstasy wrapped in a shroud.
A surprise !, standing against the ravages of time,
- for a long, long time – this gift with no place to go
for deep down – in my heart – I have come to know,
that upon this tree, you have no desire to climb
nor upon this mighty oak come and take a rest
and maybe find, that doing so, could be the best
wood, the wood that greeted me, will never greet you,
will never be a pillar you wish to climb upon.
To pulp – my wood, this mighty oak – becomes, gone.
What does an old man find ?, - when realizing so few
moments arise that he might sing a glorious song
to the goddesses “ Isis ”, “ Ishtar ” – not a clue.
B. J. “A ” 2
February 15th 2007
He stared me frozen;
stiff as a board.
A long hard stare;
a gawk, as frigid as hoarfrost.
A cold stare, as cruel as words.
Eyes know my father’s smile,
as broad as imagination.
That stare, that I alone know, is an omen;
a hunch to unbend my crooked ways.
What eyes and some ears don’t know,
buttocks know so well.
His blind and silent motto
is unknown beyond this roof.
A neighbor heard the wailing
and decide to intervene,
‘cause eyes can’t rest
with all that vicious screaming.
This slogan echoes brutality,
and confiscate my smile.
And the restless neighbor hollered,
“lickings won’t work!”
And I believed him,
until his son stole the farmer’s goat
then drown himself at sea.
Hard ears cause a painful tail –
the motto always wins.
Soft skin burns for defiance’s sins.
Father’s conscience never speak to him,
‘cause he did it by the book.
“Don’t hold back the rod and spoil the child”
is the thief that stole my smile.
Make sure you enunciate it loud
and all five girls in accord…
Then repeat three times,
“light as a feather…stiff as a board”.
One dark night,
a sleepover turned to fear-
The candle burning bright,
the hollowed spirit was near.
Light a candle and close your eyes,
concentrate feeling her body rise.
Five girls must place two fingers,
as her body is lifeless and lingers.
Going clockwise to the left,
left Bella scared and beret.
her stupefied arms crossed,
her mind blank, her thoughts lost.
All five girls kneeling,
as numbness Bella was feeling.
Open eyes on count of three,
a floating Bella you shall see.
Three inches from the ground,
calmness aching with no sound.
Bella paralyzed from toe to head,
while five girls wonder if she’s dead.
Two minutes pass, she still floats,
then she feels her closing throat.
She begins to choke and shout,
then the candle blew right out.
Falling in complete terror Bella tremors in fright,
“light as a feather, stiff as a board”...
…has worked tonight.
Make sure you enunciate it loud
and all five girls in accord…
Then repeat three times,
“light as a feather…stiff as a board”.
April 27, 2017
stiff as a board lying
in the wake of another dream
an imprint of your body fading
from my bed's white shore
"when will you be back?"
the soft breeze gone unanswered
lost to the loneliness of the wind
"i want you to come.."
yet a sudden realization sucked breath
from yearning's end
although death was on your lips last night
i will not forget what we had
Child hood
Out of the mouths of babes
Comes a wisdom, a knowing.
Sometimes getting lost in a rage
of ever changing, ever growing.
That desire less journey into age,
where they will seldom be showing
that wisdom of innocent childhood
lost in aging of the soul, lost in wood.
Seldom able, - getting passed - stiff as a board.
Knowing, wisdom, freedom is lost to ones memory’s hoard
as they become ingrained, incorporated into daily life.
As those who would have innocence cut off with a knife,
assimilated into parents, teachers, peers, lovers and bosses.
Innocence, wisdom, subconscious knowledge suffers losses.
What was all these things, in living childhood,
become in adulthood, unacceptable qualities - not good
and so, sheep now stand were childhood once stood.
B. J. “A ” 2
June 10th 2004
Assuming… cold…
An abyss of extricated lies
Squeezing out like bile from your brain
I can’t breathe when the voice of yours
Is so edgy…so rock hard
As if my life is but a layer over you
That you can break and manipulate and BUILD UPON
I cringe—I turn into a statue
Defeated and ever-blinking
As the rest of my existence around is sinking
I don’t want to be a part of it
But I feel the chains linking to you
As you twist and pull and contort
I am still and stiff as a board
Cracking and rotting—a piece you hoard
Labeled unworthy
Fables unwinding
I’m still here blinking the tears away
But as the world occupies my spirit
My physically chained body yearns
Yearns for a warmth that never comes
That is always promised
A voice from the deep draws me in
Pulling me up for a moment
Touching me
The voice is cold but his arms are warm
And every familiar face around dies away
Dark eyes crushing my tears into powder
And I smile
Because I have never read a face
As genuine and unassuming as his
And for once
I welcome what once was disease
I welcome the haunt of his existence
Because though he has raised me from the abyss
He is willing to come again
And keep on pulling
11/3/13
the pharaohs phallus
mummified stiff as a board
tut tut naughty boy
By
David Kavanagh
True story this, when they opened Tutankhamuns
Sarcophagus, Imagine their bewilderment to
find King Tut's mummy, and his symbolically
embalmed erect phallus
Perhaps this is what Lord Carnarvon thought
In the lingerie dept. stiff as a board,
a man came up and ogled and explored,
struck another pose,
right in the nose,
man passing flat out on the floor.
11-20-16
Certain it is to be at steady aim
at any time
at any place
the dead mans eternal race
Shock the barstool
take the shots
given by the winged sculptures who gawk from the pughes
A pecking order in the house of flocks
Not important enough for dirt
decomposition of the minds eye comes last
Anatomy has no hidden agenda
just a set of character traits it’s amassed
Forced entry
Chalk it up to bad luck
dead as a doornail
stiff as a board
the cliches have run amuck
Just a standard breach of contract
between humanity and oblivion
Don't take offense
Trust there will be no forgiving
So what is said
at the end of your life
if the question is "how was it truly living?"
2022 Polar Vortex - Across Wide Band Of North America
Power outage here within
mine happy hunting grounds
(as well the ghosts of Lenni Lenape),
viz Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania
December twenty third
two thousand twenty two wrought
(lasting greater part of twelve hours)
impossible mission to keep warm
generating body heat
necessity courtesy three dog night,
sure as I'm sitting here
nevertheless found yours truly
yearning for global warming
while dentures chattered
a mile a minute then jumped
out me mouth
and scrabbled, scrambled
and scratched along floor
leaving corpse like body abed
stiff as a board
dead cold analogous,
when rigor mortis
grips lovely bones
immune to brutal cold.
Ordinarily, the weather
considered non trees
son us, a neutral subject on par
with non nose
wrinkling odoriferous cheese
usually ranks as minor distraction,
without whether yours truly agrees
or not, except
during balmy temperatures,
an unavoidable tease,
whereat sub zero degrees,
whether Centigrade or Fahrenheit
demands human sacrifice
(me anima knocking knees),
no negotiating with Ole Man Winter,
he requests (lest
he continue deep freeze
maelstrom until the end of time),
nothing 'cept a healthy seas
sunned *****sapien to appease
his insatiable appetite
froze to the core,
when all body functions cease,
thus until onset of frostbite disease
transformed me into a human popsicle
obliging surrender of self,
no matter I always minded "p's"
and "q's", and adhered
to selfless decrees
not until that moment - this me's
lee sad excuse e'en for missing link,
said personal radar of this primate
suddenly went haywire madly wheeze
zing, as if giant hand (some
harried styled swiftly tailored
paw) did squeeze
traumatizing, suffocating, mangling
constricting, asphyxiating... sensation
(surprised muss elf, and all my enemies,
hence survived death as a breeze)
when similar to Socrates
ill fate found him downing hemlock,
necessitated, I reluctantly quaffed antifreeze
as preservative, plus
out of necessity to survive
being clobbered, buffeted,
assaulted...finally please
zing lee melting titanic iceberg
more bearable on par with a sneeze
than compared to frigidity
of writer's block.
I don't understand
why we are
the way we are.
The man upstairs
doesn't seem to hear me anymore.
The devil appears to be more attentive
to my cries
as he lurks around
and laughs at me.
I reach for your hand,
and you're as stiff as a board.
I don't hear a word they say,
I'm empty inside,
as the darkness envelopes me
in its powerful embrace.
All I can think about
is my illness.
After all this time,
I am truly disturbed.
I don't have the strength anymore
to do what I must.
I spit on the world,
the war, the worries that I wear like warts.
I'm after what everyone else is after,
chasing a dream of love and happiness.
God, why do You fail me now?
We pray together out loud,
hand upon hand,
and nothing comes of it.
If anything,
the enemy wakes up
and is at work within us.
I don't want to fight.
I don't want to hate.
I want to love,
and befriend freedom.
Hoosier winters were mighty frigid on the farm when I was a lad.
Ma insisted no matter what I did, I was to be warmly clad!
With toboggan cap, mackinaw, mittens and lace-up leather boots,
And of course beneath it all, one of those scratchy union suits!
They've been around nigh on a hundred-fifty years, I'm told,
Worn by men, women and kids to protect 'em from the cold.
With a handy flap, dozens of buttons, in colors of red or white;
They don't enhance the physique -in fact they look a fright!
The buttoned flap is a practical and convenient innovation,
Especially when in a hurry and in moments of desperation!
I've even heard of fellers dwellin' in 'em all the winter long.
By springtime the fragrance must've been most powerfully strong!
On clothes lines on cold and wintry days hung a frightful horde,
Of frozen union suits dancin' on the lines as stiff as a board!
In a pile nigh the parlor stove they would be casually tossed,
To shed their clingin' coats of rime and gradually defrost!
Ain't nothin' that'll keep you warmer on a cold wintry morn,
For sloppin' hogs, milkin' cows and shuckin' fields of corn,
Curryin' horses, milkin' goats or any other agrarian pursuit,
Like a scratchy, itchy, long-legged, venerable union suit!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
It's six months since I was told
That Parkinson's was my ill
It's taken over all I have
It's made me very ill
It's taking its time to get use to
And sort out all the pills
As they make me feel so sick
I can't do nothing at all
My body aches from top to toe
And I feel stiff as a board
I find it hard to stand and walk
I wobble over the floor
He plays away with my mined
He moves my things all day
He's so annoying to have around
He confuses me all day
I make a drink and sit and rest
A nice coffee will do
But by the time I get to sit
A latte I do have
I shake a bit and Tremble
And do the Rock and roll
I have no need to exercise
He does it all
The morning passes by
Iv done nothing at all
I sit here and think
How much I have to do
The morning has been wasted
And lunch time. Has arrived
My appetite has long gone
I hardly eat a crumb
But Mr Parky as I call him
He can go to hell
He isn't going to take my life
And all the things I love
He's a strange man he is
He lets me have a while
Of feeling good and healthy
Just for a few hours
I start to think What can I do ,
there's so much I have missed
Il bake a cake and make some jam
And enjoy the afternoon
Then he's back he gets so bored
He starts all over again
He think its funny
And that he will win
He just won't leave me alone
But he's got a big surprise
I'm tougher than he thinks
No way will he keep bullying me
As I want to live
So when he comes and he is bored
I'm going to give him a surprise
I'm going to kick him up his ass
And give him a taste of my life,
Sue gage ??
A Parkinson's suffer
if only i could see her eyes
they would tell me everything
i know... look into my eyes you could see the past prese...
but its not about me, no its about her
she is getting older an still struming along sometime alone
or with a friend companion or a senseful stranger
if only i could see her eyes
shiny so dark, hiden in light
they would let out her feelings
all in a calm yet angered way
she would be swinging or weeping
but still stiff as a board
she could be joyous and scare you
and not move a muscle
if i could see into her eyes
they would tell me about her first time
first time for what... i dont know but i would know the feeling and if
it felt good or painfully wrong
her eyes will tell me
dar puddles of confusion and knowing
i could see it all if only
i could see her eyes