Best Undercut Poems
As the rooster crows:
A look in the pool mirrored a perfect mop
At times of frizzy hair or defiant shaggy tresses
Ohhh the satisfaction at the sight
And yabba, dabba, doo!! echoed loud and clear
Triumphant male ego at its best!
A man’s crowning glory
Pulled, cut, brushed, curled, straightened, shaved
Lathered, gelled, creamed and pasted
Soaked in fragrant Makassar oil
Invigorator, conditioning both groom and style.
Macho, gentle, sweet, daring tastes
Side-partings, medium, undercut and long
Sporting pony-tails, short back and sides
Elvis and James Dean quiffs curled kiss-me-quicks,
Punk, Mohawk, flamboyant fringes
Highlights and lowlights, sprays and blow-dries!
All part and parcel of male vanity and crowning glory.
Heckles from the henhouse:
As some men grow older they shed hair.
Each day they seek strands that were once there,
But skin patches widen --
Just check out Joe Biden.
Prepare to shut eyes in the bright glare.
A comb-over seems like a good plan,
But ladies don’t flock to a con man.
With 10 hairs remaining,
A “crown” they are feigning.
What happens when strands face a wind fan?
No reason for men to grow manic;
Mustaches and beards can work magic,
Diverting attention
Without the pretension
That balding is simply too tragic.
The “rug” method’s just too expensive,
Espec’ly when loss is extensive.
Like Telly Savalas,
The outcome’s not callous --
Few women find baldness offensive!
*Many thanks to Paul Callus for inviting me to join in this co-write.
Contract
In a little town away out west ,
the Contract was out,
the thunderboxes best,
Tommy Bumble offered 20 cents a tin,
To take the human manure in,
With the contract he was blest,
Tommy Tartar was in haste,
He offered twenty five cents,
got replaced,
By the cheapest contract in,
His fart cart got a win,
He got the council contract.
This is just how business works,
When Abbot gets you contracted, an smirks,
Your lowest wage HE does win,
Others cheaper offerings,
Might undercut your perks,
Cheap labour for the cunning rich,
Contract forced on the worker,
Howard’s damned work-choices pitch,
Voters rejected him, the smirker.
Their aim is just to buy you cheap,
More dollars for the greedy creep,
Will you join up with the other sheep
And get mulesed into the bargain,
Weep…
Don Johnson
As the rooster crows:
A look in the pool mirrored a perfect mop
At times of frizzy hair or defiant shaggy tresses
Ohhh the satisfaction at the sight
And yabba, dabba, doo!! echoed loud and clear
Triumphant male ego at its best!
A man’s crowning glory
Pulled, cut, brushed, curled, straightened, shaved
Lathered, gelled, creamed and pasted
Soaked in fragrant macassar oil
Invigorator, conditioning both groom and style.
Macho, gentle, sweet, daring tastes
Side-partings, medium, undercut and long
Sporting pony-tails, short back and sides
Elvis and James Dean quiffs curled kiss-me-quicks,
Punk, mohawk, flambouyant fringes
Highlights and lowlights, sprays and blow-dries!
All part and parcel of male vanity and crowning glory.
Heckles from the hen house:
As some men grow older they shed hair.
Each day they seek strands that were once there,
But skin patches widen --
Just check out Joe Biden.
Prepare to shut eyes in the bright glare.
A comb-over seems like a good plan,
But ladies don’t flock to a con man.
With 10 hairs remaining,
A “crown” they are feigning.
What happens when strands face a wind fan?
No reason for men to grow manic;
Moustaches and beards can work magic,
Diverting attention
Without the pretension
That balding is simply too tragic.
The “rug” method’s just too expensive,
Espec’ly when loss is extensive.
Like Telly Savalas,
The outcome’s not callous --
Few women find baldness offensive!
-----------------------------------------------
With special thanks to Carolyn Devonshire
with whom this fun write was written.
Scabs in Australian history
The Labor Party came from the early Shearers strike, 1900s,
where Unions fought for and got fair wages for the workers.
Later in the 1950s the Shearers had trouble with SCABS.
The Australian National Country Party brought in the Scabs to undercut the
wages of the hard working Shearers of Sheep .
Kiwis shearers were brought in at lower wages and fights developed,
between the Scabs and the Aussie workers...
The Farmers wanted cheap labour...
So worker swinging voter, you are being replaced in the Mines jobs,
By guess what? Cheap imported maybe 4 dollar an hour workers
on special Visas...Not funny to be kept out of work!
Howard the duck was ejected from his seat because of
bringing in 100,000 cheap contract workers,
ARE THEY STILL TAKING AUSSIE JOBS TODAY..?
DO YOU GET THE PICTURE?
You vote for Abbots nasty people and you will be out of work,
or would you like to work cheap ..Bo Peep SHEEP???
Don Johnson
When the veil is pulled away subject exposed story
what motivation drives these blind merchants
let's lay it out clearly from waters of your soul tabled
evidence points to an unstable world circus painting creeping bugs
following a trail of crumbs Judas kissing the other cheek
Where muppets pull all the strings attached accord
true crafts are undervalued directly honest speaking
making deals to undercut facts highlights a bought body
wages go backwards in time for those whom work hard
The upper crust consider themselves royalty in suits
when law of the land works for mere crumbs of their table
corruption's one disease of these needy vermin sinking fangs into
the icing of our cakes rats infested without hope
Justice is no longer held with value anymore
as the poor are robbed of their rights daily important
stripping values is the underhanded deals in tribunals hanging joke
Now slaves to the beggars purse cast as worthless
imperial law has been enforced through this savagery served
by poor management with silver lining fingers subject pollution begins
inwards always taking away but never ever giving back
Stealing becomes a bad example set telling both sides of the snakes tale
lies become the normal gender bending truth far fetched bigots
slanting this towards the underhanded source decisions effect reality
we should nail each and every deed that holds ransom to democracy
You can hear the resentment in my voice
I don't wanna be mad, but I don't have a choice
I don't have thin skin – I been rubbed raw
Blessed are the meek and the sons-in-law
All that I say, you undermine
You undercut me every time
Now nuthin' that I say to my kids has any worth
Someday the sons-in-law shall inherit the earth
I try, oh I try to be an attentive husband
Try to provide for my family, best I can
Work all day, that must count for somethin'
To take my place in the back of the line of men
I say this and you say that
Well, say hello to Mr. Doormat
You can wipe your feet on me when you enter my door
Blessed are the meek and the sons-in-law
Look at us all, so desperate and sad
Having to call some dictator "Dad"
It's enough to make your sense of injustice whirl
Oh, give us your tired sons-in-law of the world
Contract hey
Santas on the thunderbox,
Contract given to George Knox,
He bid 20cents a tin ,
To bring the crappy nightsoil in.
Crumbob poo had made his bid,
He only had 14 kids,
25 cents a tin was it,
undercut by another half wit,
Great farting in your underjocks,
when Tarring the tins for the thunderbox
Moral of this story crude,
Contracts won by the lower dude,
How to force the wages down,
Come in sucker it’s your frown
The system has you screwed…
Don Johnson
It was said by pilgrim sons next to the Boston Harbor,
That to take tax without redress was action of dishonor.
And so a team of farmers went and built themselves an army,
To drive the redcoats off their land and end George’s tyranny.
We’re beating drums and ask your sons to come now to our aid
We’re marching out as men along the patriot’s parade.
Them red-devil Injuns ain’t no good and they cavort in sin!
So forget your Ma’s and Pa’s my boys the calvr’y needs a win.
We’ll drive them savages off them fields and make that land our own,
Them whisky barons should pay too for drunks and broked men’s homes
We’re beating drums so tell your sons to come now to our aid
We’re marching out as soldiers along the patriot’s parade.
The government of 1812 wanted lands Canadian
they also set about with plans to take captured Lousianne.
Those Brits they really gave us cause with press-gang’d merchant sailors.
Rise up you merry lads and arm let’s feed those Brits to gators!
We’re beating drums to protect your sons so come now to our aid
We’re marching yet again along the patriot’s parade.
Keep sending sons to mount and ride against the red-man nations,
In Texas good men hold back Santa Anna’s salutations.
The yellow cinaman’s opium turns strong men into slaves,
We need to climb Mt. Fiji and teach Japan we rule the waves.
We’re beating on the drums again, not empire, just foreign aid;
We’re sailors, soldiers and marines on a patriot’s parade.
Them fed’ral scum think they can ru’n our way of life. ‘tain’t southern.
They’re try’na undercut our vote by free’n the ‘raff for breedin’.
Those southern states how dare they break from this nation we’re building?
We can’t let constitution bar the way that we are growing!
We’re sailors, soldiers and your sons on a patriot’s parade
We’re the real army and your true sons on patriot’s parade
You may think we’ve fought enough and we all wish that it were so,
But truth be told we need to scold Koreans on Ganghwado.
And even if that weren’t so bad rustlers have crossed the border,
We need more men that we can send to restore Texan order.
We’re beating on new drums, you’ll see, all dressed in golden braid,
The army, navy and marines on patriot parade!
Johnny England
So who allowed the foreign grey
to drive the British red away?
While running freely up our trees
they eat the food and spread disease.
While further north it’s worse than that,
extinction for the dear wild-cat.
Moggies of a different strand
can wander freely on their land...
That kind of thing is never good,
it leads to mixing of the blood.
It’s much the same with woodland too,
trees should be British through and through
‘cos don’t-y’-know it’s beech and oak
make lovely walks for gentle folk.
Those foresters with foreign firs
are philistines or tasteless curs.
Thank God the matter’s well in hand
with vigilantes round the land
combining their almighty might
to put these dreadful things to right
with battle cries that ring profound
like... “British life on British ground!”
***
There’s many deeds do-gooders do
but, Johnny England, none for you.
You were not asked and not informed
your land would change, your town transformed.
As populace swells uncontrolled,
“It’s good for growth,” so you are told
by boss and banker as they strut
and plan new ways to undercut
your hard fought wage and meagre share
with labour brought from, “over there.”
Traditions too must dampen down
lest they offend and cause a frown
on someone’s face who chose to be
where once you felt relaxed and free.
As services come under strain
it’s you that has to bear the pain,
and not a thing that you can do
for no one gives a damn for you.
For, Johnny... you’re not cute you see
like cat and squirrel – or a tree.
A slow death marinated.
In half-prayer and long goodbyes.
So much suffering on this cobblestone of lies.
To think it all began with a silky lullaby.
The Faries and unicorns soon drift from our lives.
Replaced by tarry intentions.
Oozing from cinderblock faces.
Bridges of hope undercut by trolls.
Silky dreams slip into eclipse.
The sun's last breath kisses the necrosed lips of our nothingness.
A hippopotamus in a tree is never the same as a forty foot sunbathing prawn with sunglasses. For in the eyes of the cool breeze not all can be delivered as speedily as a fish and chip tea on a promenade. So when skipping in leaves speak to the beetles nestled within. No fur coats necessary for such tough outer exteriors. And when feet are immersed in sand take time to consider the milestones made by the several hundred thousand years of eras and fauna and tides who shape the land akin to spreading thick amounts of cream on a homemade bun. But when in wind, now this is the time. The time to fly the inner kite. Mind residue can often flap so perhaps by placing a raisin in a currant one can escape the glows of yesteryear demise,junk,felons and demonstrated demonic plagues. However never let it be said that a clapping pan can dance to the spoon beats. And always be aware a tiny 6inch snail can travel at great speeds in the morning dew or in the dust explosions. Tapered. Tailoring. Trapping. Taking. An hourglass undercut. Cute. Cat. Fishing a five foot wave. Undergrowth underwent until ultimately uprooting. Pointless planning pain pun eyed people swarm. Delivery optional yet opened and arrived in a time looping hop of 1 2 3 beat. Hindsight hinders. Jalapeno skirts on lobster faced girls dance a pretty dance to a large goggle eyed clam. Balloons. Balls. Bake. Banal. Banalities of banana bread. Stallion toss. Geraniums. Xx1 !
I look out my window in Medford Oregon
at the unnaturally dark smoke-filled skies
Seems almost like the end of the world
Out here in the smoke-filled skies
Of the west
And realize that that the entire west coast
Is burning up
Quote the Donald,. "Give me clean, beautiful and healthy air - not the same old climate change (global warming) ********! I am tired of hearing this nonsense."
I consult the Donald for further wisdom and advice
and find that this is what he had to say
. "Well, I think the climate change is just a very, very expensive form of tax. A lot of people are making a lot of money. I know much about climate change. I'd be—received environmental awards. And I often joke that this is done for the benefit of China. Obviously, I joke. But this is done for the benefit of China, because China does not do anything to help climate change. They burn everything you could burn; they couldn't care less. They have very—you know, their standards are nothing. But they—in the meantime, they can undercut us on price. So, it's very hard on our business."
Ah it all makes sense
Climate change is a Chinese hoax
So, they can destroy the US economy
Thanks to our dear great leader’s wisdom
I am relieved
And realize that it will all be alright
If I just follow the wisdom
Of our dear leader
Integrity
I suppose you think it’s all worthwhile,
To crawl to the rich, if that’s your style,
To swing your vote, left, right and center,
On a whim, just hit enter.
Just a touch of bile, don’t bleat.
If you were truly honest, within yourself,
You’d help the poor, not someone else,
Rich people, force the wages cheap,
Treat the workers like half- mulesed sheep,
Any excuse is allowed:)
Overseas shearers, shore the masters sheep,
In the 50s scabs, sure, about did creep,
Undercut the workers wage,
Sweat of the brow, ten bob was saved,
Made the wives of shearers weep.
Of miners bringing in the labor cheap,
A dollar saved, fatso can keep,
Are scabs a coming from offshore,
Yes buddy thousands more,
Don’t be chuckling in your sleep
Morality is gone this political day,
Integrity is dead in Canberra hey,
Fake emails to bring down the government,
9 times has Thompson been tried and left,
Or is he still not guilty,
Yet…..
Don Johnson
Cheat
I could cheat but it is wrong,
To rob your brother of his song,
To undercut his wages, worse,
To bring on self the awful curse,
But you knew it all along.
Power of thought can win a game,
But cheating is just a thieving same,
Build for self the future pain,
Be born in old Uganda.
Without a bloody veranda,
Black in the face again?
Propaganda brainwash cheat,
Lies are spilling into the street,
Mass media are indiscreet,
To the super rich they pander,
Will Africa be sweet,
No bloody veranda.
So their persecuting you today,
Sucking muddy water, no fun hey,
Machete, sidestep duck away,
Hide under the veranda.
Don Johnson
Think about this…
Emails now prove thousands of doctor’s reported medicines
That were proven successful for Covid to Fauci at the CDC
He ignored all of this as hundreds of thousands of people died
So truthfully, he undercut President Trump as media praised him
Then, President Trump was blamed for all the deaths!
Heidi Sands
6/7/21