Best Swivel Poems
guitar strangs man!
we heard the strang's of delgrin
and were beamed otta our seat's
it's like booty-booty bomb sh4t!
I mean the bassy grooves and the lyrics
they hit me like a stereo!
swing dos' hips and get a grip
on some real good loving!
singles and swingers, baby what's for dinner
cause dessert is you !
I mean like who's got the answer
when the question is wrong
laid back getting squirt's from the boss type
loving!
greasy fanga's gal show!
groovy bassy funk!
Scribble down those madding
Sharp scars of a cut
On those sliced, finish-manufactured lumber
So you can make some sense of it all.
Note: It's a note.
There it is displayed in my den, an old oaken swivel chair.
They were going to dispose of it thinking it beyond repair!
It graced the old court house for decades serving a colorful cast.
Many notions of its use crossed my mind as I mused about its past!
A judge may have used it as he sat upon the bench so just,
Dispensing justice to hapless souls at whom the book was thrust!
Perhaps a drowsy bailiff occupied it trying a yawn to suppress,
During a boring trial, praying the judge would declare a recess!
Did a juror slump in it listening to evidence with his peers,
Anxious to flee the place to enjoy a couple of beers?
Perhaps an attorney used it, evincing the usual respect,
As he leaped to his feet proclaiming, "Your Honor, I object!"
It could have been reserved to confine an arrogant desperado,
Lounging in the chair to impress with his pretense at bravado!
I suspect though, that it was put to more mundane use,
By a green eye-shaded grumpy clerk, managing to be obtuse!
The old chair squeaks a lot and if you tilt back too far, beware,
Ere it dump you on the floor, leaving your arms flailing in the air!
Though its many idiosyncrasies someday may harm my spine,
I'm glad I rescued it - its a dear old chum of mine!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
How could you discuss the Devil
Sitting on a chair you swivel,
Thirty minutes pone still on Evil,
The picture your rival the Devil...
You dont reckon that he wont like it:
That he still knows how throats are slit,
That you might just be his next hit;
On the news found corpse in a pit...
From now learn to focus on God
And our God's right to Moses'Rod:
Satan you fight like you do Todd;
If he means to kill you a nod.
tenderness in every swivel of my pen,
the curvature used to be alluring.
it was thoughtless beauty, even
in note form. now, even my index tap
on the overused i-pad causes pain.
ibuprofen and blue ice chisel at my wrist.
i need a needle filled with panacea-ink
to extend the life of my poetic thoughts.
the doc sits around waiting for me to call?
biding my time, hoping an eraser
will correct the mistakes. panic set in
as the doctor has a long list of dates.
Dr. Darth Vader makes me wait on the death star.
O, bend, wan, can, NO, be!
a star wars laser cut off Luke’s hand…*
We are live!
The debut of the
Project Won't
New Nickname!
Beanie Strawwall
Reports!
Zum, Zum Zum
Dew whoop
Zum boogie!
Tis, tis sweet
Miss,
Get them panties
Outta ah bunch.
I asked for interest
You offered your
P@ssie foo lunch!
Twiggy Dew ah Dewdell
Zum swing ah dew
Honey is sweet and mellow
Baby you are sweet
too!
Tell me your interpretation
Let me sing
The way
Lullabies and sounded
Sessions
Lingerie the nights
Away!adagio and
the frenchhorns
Samples on the strings
Get my saddle ready
Let steady gettie
do his thang!