Best Supposes Poems
If I told you, Donald, my love was true
Would you dance for me, glad to be my boo?
Or give a mean retort
Making a piggish snort
No Valentine's kisses from me to you
Melania is getting done with Trump
All he cares about is his nasty rump
The Epstein files don't lie
Knows he's guilty as pie
When his term ends, he'll be sent to the dump
If he tells me, I never wear a smile
It's because I think he's a pedophile
Ungodly as a papist
And a guilty rapist
Who knows what else is in the Epstein file
King Donald Trump thought Greenland he’d steal
Used threatening blunder in his spiel
This Valentines Day
Thought he’d have his way
Greenland said, “Up yours, Donald. No deal!”
Don Trumpty is totally impotent
He can't get it up for any event
It remains very slack
Can’t perform in the sack
On Viagra his bucks have all been spent!
Donald J. Trump held a Valentine's Ball
The world's dregs... he has invited them all
There was Kim Jong and Putin
Khamani and Rasputin
His ego boosted, he felt ten foot tall
No roses to give from the rose garden
He paved it with a black heart that's hardened
Installed gauche golden bling
and destroyed the East Wing
Criminals and crooks, he's given pardon
Melania said that they’d never part
And told him she loved him with all her heart
She held his waist tight
Squeezed with all her might
Poor Donald gasped and let out a fart
The President is standing in the buff
Posing nude and trying to strut his stuff
I guess he supposes
Wife wants sex not roses
But sadly, his old todger is too duff
Donald forgot it was Valentine's Day
Was too busy with targeting his prey
By grabby their tushy
His bare hands, so pushy
All the red roses sold out anyway
The FLOTUS put Donald in his place
In the bedroom he can’t touch first base
Cos he bedded Stormy D
Then Epstein files, oh dear me
The POTUS has got egg on his face
I'd be his Valentine if he'd hold still
Long enough for me to give him a pill
that would put him to sleep
And freeze the nasty creep
Putting him in a cryogenic chill
Cupid's arrows missed their mark, A collaboration of thoughts by
Jan Allison, Tania Kitchin, Tom Cunningham and Lin Lane
The look of pity on the saleswoman's face said it all
my paint spattered clothing, however the jeans fit
just didn't have that panache, chic pizazz, tongue hanging
inspiration for desire a young woman out to have.
The car dealer took one look at me, led me to the far
corner of the lot, showed me the used hot rods
the beater four doors, the budget cutters like I'd rode
but I wanted glossy black, silver hood ornament, brand new.
Paint is supposed to sit on top of your nails, but underneath
is advantageous when compared to oil, to muck, to dirty guts
so I was a step on the ladder of the working man,
I could even afford to buy hose, which I still don't wear.
There's something to be said for the over glasses, safety
glasses look, white paper coat, something comical
one supposes, but the purple overalls worn for skiing
which suddenly I could afford, made me my nephews joke.
At times I waited for a date who preferred the bar
called and said maybe later, because passion rumbled
between us when we kissed but I didn't want a flit,
disease, broken promise, I wanted to be embraced
Cozy now, body motion are promises and content
passion is beyond me, the bar on the patio in back
the hand I always hold a missing app that answers
more lonely than any mistaken wish that he'd be the one.
Stars, too, I climbed to them in my dream, climbed
the Space Needle and found my self with no safety net
I always avoided those climbs the dreams more nightmare
even though I do what I am told, to reach, to soar.
Sometimes now I wear black on gold dresses which fit
to the nth inch, so I can barely sit, hold champagne
to watch golden bubbles float against the elegant
white linen against starry night event, that's rich, success.
Dump it gladly for a romp on the beach, the missing
something like threads through a woven maze,
like an angel's hope. When I dump it all and seek
there's grace lying on the shores between the rocks
a pooled place where deer come to lick minerals,
boulders come unglued and sail down river
and think, maybe I could do that. Maybe I could
unglue all the expectations and rearrange the world.
Sometimes a person supposes,
When asked to describe how things are,
That talking of rainbows and roses
Will hide what might startle or jar.
By painting a picture so sunny,
Believing you’ll fool those who asked,
What happens, I’d bet even money,
Is that some will know truth has been masked.
For lies rarely stay nicely hidden,
Since facts often end up revealed,
Exposing the one who, unbidden,
Learns guile’s a bad weapon to wield.
Poor Rudolph his nose has turned brown
His antics have made Santa frown
For no one supposes
That folks with brown noses
Are trouble and let others down
12-06-17
Stereotypes
Black people all have rhythm and are good at basketball
Not a single blond in the world has any brains at all
Englishmen have bad teeth and Mexicans are lazy
And if you think the Dutch aren’t cheap, certainly you’re crazy
All Chinese are bad drivers, and hairdressers are gay
Consensus is that Irishmen get plastered every day
Construction workers are all fat from eating too much dinner
Korean people eat doggy meat trying to get thinner
All athletes have large muscles in between their ears
Italians run the Mafia; at least it so appears
Jews don’t pay retail and they all have giant noses
All teenagers are rebels, everyone supposes
All the French are rude, and Poles aren’t very bright
And Hawaiians hit their surfboards long into the night
Asians all have high IQ’s, and Germans are efficient
Nowhere is there a doctor whose judgment is deficient
All Arabs support terror, and Latins make great lovers
All Navahos snort firewater underneath their covers
Every single homeless person’s on welfare ‘cause he’s needy
And try to find a politician who isn’t mean and greedy
All people who are fat have a tendency to be jolly
And women are bad drivers; you can count on it by golly
Lawyers are out to cheat you, as a rule of thumb
But most of all, don’t you think that stereotypes are dumb
So pure the streams in light that quivers
While the silver rains of spring composes
Fragrant the buds poised soft by the rivers
Oh lets pluck those lily bright roses!
While birds will kiss the mountain spray
When the tender light of morn reposes
On the loving winds that gently sway
On the buds of those lily bright roses.
That draws its inspiration from the dew
That in purity's grace our sad thoughts encloses
When the pulse of love may spring anew
From the buds of those lily bright roses.
That together as one they unite to grace
Slumbering winds and delicate noses
How wondrous be, when spring embrace
The buds of those lily bright roses.
That rides the mist of the midday breeze
When my joyous thoughts of life supposes
That I hear their songs like humming trees
Oh the sighs of those lily bright roses!
There has always been an inter-outer over-under tender balance of loveless socio-equations as they super fit the psychosocial sexe-endices in this modern garner of pluses/minuses/bytes and scribbles mostly incommunicado inexperience and parental impreciseness as to, "anything planned", which in tomb leaves us doth a deranged desperate captive of that all inbibed prisoner **** of nun conformist adventurerers and that really, that there are just too many organic integers making for really bad math.intuitations/attributes and all of the familio do's and don'ts that creep bastardy across the years to inculcate, interfere, incase all of the hoped, promised integrity of just 2 people in love? with all that makes it their potential, not all of the hopeless, ne'r do wells, dead driven dud marriages that hoped to promulgate their failures onto the newbies totally unprepared, but willfully negative implicit on that new, and should be uninterrupted, all naked, seeing alter intense emoexplosive journeys to that wait waits, some supposes, everybody entices, everyone enthralls, quired questions, problem perplexes, initiates initiated, complexes complete, duty deforms, eerily exacts a viscous value, on properties promised a forever coexistance, but not at the expense of selfish selfness; can it be to an us award of a faceoff fervent fever, that WE, can coincide an opposite internal presence that allows us to be a universal component undeluded, underived, unpolluted by the natural wonders that are our genetic cohesions, so they can further their total promise to lead a connected life of copious love, desire and plentitudes of us-ness, disavowing all else in a socioinvasive parental wake of them vs us in all things blood/emo crass cursive? Leave them, the future lovers of us alone, let it flow and keep your, non orgasmic, loveless failures to yourself, old/tainted people of relations, lovers of social inhibitions it plays to an ill-at-ease, stubborn Igor-ignocompliance. Yes, we had Summer Love/Woodstock, but then we grew to be livestock, waiting for the senior-socioseniorslaughter pill mill. You must have some small, tinder, macromolecule of what it was to be standing in the bliss of universal underware; a long time ago in a universe far, far, away. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! the neighbors.
Our garden's masterpiece,
Fairies in each fleur-de-lis,
Blossoms of gauzy glory,
Perennial veils of fairy stories,
Beribboned spangle treasury,
Fairies flitting so flowery,
Our queen of ruby roses,
Posies for all, one supposes,
Flowerets the best cuddle,
Essence of Spring, residual,
There are fairies in the flowers in our garden,
One ruby rose--then a garland!!
Anger burns me to my core,
Blistering every happy part of me left.
The only thing I know of now is hatred, anger, and
Revenge. It claws at me from the inside,
Making me scream out, but that makes it worse.
Every thought I have now is of murder,
Of killing anyone who wrongs me.
My old self, she has been caged and
Is rotting away somewhere deep inside of me,
Somewhere I can never find.
She is crying out for someone, something, to
Free her, but no one listens.
Soon there will be nothing left of her,
Soon she will not exist. She is barely there now.
I cry out for someone to stop the madness, but that
Just pushes them away. So I stay silent, angering
Everyone around me.
I hate them.
I hate all of them.
I want them to die.
I can't make it stop.
They are always there, the thoughts, and I
Let them take me over.
There is nothing left of what I used to be, and
I am gong insane over it.
But, I guess things always turn out the way
They're supposes to be, don't they?
So maybe I was doomed from the start.
(For a contest). Word Group 3.
Oh, a plane ticket to meet my one true love,
Plus a secret box, on the lid a dove,
Inlaid a jewelled masterpiece,
Fairies in each fleur-de-lis,
Blossoms of gauzy glory,
Perennial veils of fairy stories,
Beribboned spangled treasury,
Fairies flitting so flowery,
Our queen of favourite ruby roses,
Posies for all, one supposes,
Flowerets the best cuddle,
Essence of Spring, residual,
There are fairies in the flowers in the garden,
One favourite flower, a rose---then a garland.
30/12/2015
When snowflakes fall, the sleds come out
As children run and jump and shout
With boots and scarves and runny noses
(Also mittens, one supposes)
Frolicking in fresh white snow,
Their rosy cheeks and smiles a’glow.
Can anything make winter’s case
Like joy on any toddler’s face
As, in his new boots, he’s astride
His shiny sled for that first ride?
It’s messy, yes, and cold and wet
But no one watching, I would bet,
Would trade that winter glee he’s got
To live where weather’s always hot.
A jug of wine, a book of verse and thou,
Beneath kind trees that spread their green leaves shady
My sheeps heart beats with love and I seek now
A daisy that this sheep may give his lady
I know, though full of love, I'm just a sheep
No one I think realistically supposes
That one like me can voice his love though deep
With fancy flowers like orchids or like roses
Nor does this sheep have much in pounds and pence
To make pretence for more would just be crazy
So I must make the most of sheepish sense
My Valentine shall be a single daisy
And so I trotted to the flower shop
'Excuse me, Mr Flower Man', said I
'Do you, perchance, have ready in your stock,
A daisy that this little sheep can buy?'
The Flower Man, he looked way down at me
His cold frown pierced my wool fleece cruelly deep
'I did not start in business,' muttered he
'To waste time selling common weeds to sheep.'
Again, I fail! It's my memorium
No flower, no leaf, no stem, not even root
By air I left the flower emporium
Propelled aloft by Mr Flowerman's boot
'Tis cruel, the worldly ways I must endure
Oft ridiculed and often wounded sore
But hero-like, my love forever pure
Burns fierce and earnest right through to my core
I hope one day my princess thinks on me
Perhaps she'll sigh; perhaps she'll shed a tear
For one whose woolly dreams could never be
For one she spurned, yet always held her dear.
One day a girl died
Hung herself
She was 16
No one suspected
That Emily, happy Emily
Was being bullied on the
Internet
But she was
And she took her life
At the funeral were black roses
For the supposes
Suppose she couldn't handle it
Suppose she had depression
anyway
Suppose she was weak
Suppose she....
Emily left behind a brother
A mother and a father
A best friend and a dog
And all the supposes that
Come with cyber bullying
The biggest suppose being
Isn't someone supposed to do
something
The Denny Foundation
Was set up to create awareness
About cyber bullying and it's
effects
......And she took her life
At the funeral were black roses
See
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/ne
ws/article-2395484/Hannah-
Smith-funeral-Fam...
http://www.dennyfoundation.or
g/2011/12/cyberbullying-if-
you-are-being-bu...
"One Bad Apple"
Soft cool-aid breezed in
wielding her sharp peeler
skinning the first apple
Boss girl
begins.
Stewed apples
slowly eaten
swallowed, taken in
One way out.
Boss girl
begins.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
gvlm
"Raise Hell", Dorothy
https://youtu.be/cfKPobjPZSE
“She does not want the world
to tell her how to live her life.
She does not want the world
to put her into a category.
She will smile even when
not all is good with her.
She will believe
what should not be.
And she will dream wild!
She is a bird.
She just wants to fly
in the wide blue sky!”
Avijeet Das
“I am a strong girl
Someday I will win the world
Yes I will smile in the wrong time
I won't do what has to be done
Or what the world
supposes me to have done
I will just do what I want
Drop out from crowd
Pretend to fall where I don't
Smile even when not all is good
Believe what should not be
Dream wild
Look observe and not harm
Coz I just live
Let me live
Don't put me in a category
or a class
I am as light
as a glass
This world
this beautiful world
Oh how complex
has it been made by us
Just look at the bird
soaring in the blue sky
Does it even care
Does it even care?”
Suyasha Subedi
"My muse is my daughter
My strength is hers
My muse is my mother
Her strength is mine
My muse are my sisters
My strength is theirs
My muse is my soul
Our strength is eternal"
"I roared, I rampaged and I got bloody satisfaction".
Kill Bill
Excerpt, Script, Kill Bill 2
https://www.ivanachubbuck.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Kill-Bill-2-Bill-Bride.pdf
artist/artwork: Rose Freymuth-Frazier
"One Bad Apple".
https://www.freymuth-frazier.com/
Time traveler of a different time..
Billions and billions of Universes and Galaxies..
Out of time
Out of space..
A galactic infusion
Our imaginations come alive
Our wildest dreams exposed..
Technology works as quickly as the speed of light
Way beyond our comprehension
One shall never comprehend the magnitude of that existence..
An existence of creation and creations of many universes
A magnitude of vastness..
Beyond light years away..
The Time Traveler appears..
A time traveler manifests different shapes
Different forms..
Need not travel through physical objects..
Need not travel with physical machines..
The Time Traveler appears..
A time traveler disappears..
Faster then the speed of light..
A blink of an eye away
Time travel through consciousness..
Instantaneously..
Inside and outside..
Through different fascinating realities..
Of which..
There are outer dimensional..
There are inter dimensional..
The forces are all with us..
We are all the forces..
The Time Traveler appears..
Time traveler chooses which reality applies..
Within a heartbeat away..
The time traveler had already reached the destination..
We suppose the time traveler is alien..
The time traveler supposes we are the aliens..
Uniqueness and differences apply..
Intrigued and curious we all are..
As we are deeply submerged in fascination..
From one alien to another alien..
Although we are human..
We are all living breathing living entities..
On the whole..
Although time is measured..
Time as we all know it..
Really isn't time at all..
Everything is occurring NOW...
We are all consciousness..