Best Whet Poems
Sweaty Palms – Chronic Woe Renders...
Po' Whet Tick Dampened Curse = A
Worse Fate Than Death!
...of Google I now know sweaty
palms sports dignified name
known as palmar hyperhidrosis.
Here all along (meaning major
of my roam'n LIX chronological
hash tagged linkedin orbitz), this
plague constitutes bona fide
medical condition. Cold drippy
comfort! Also (minimally) re:
assuring to realize, this generic
guy need not count himself alone
in sopping wet wilderness re:
this plague. Such problematic
health condition impacts, comprises,
and affects one to two percent of
the world’s population. One
Doctor Riesfeld purportedly makes
hand over fist handsome income.
Will power alone seems a dauntlessly
futile endeavor to rid oneself of
disruptive condition. Try as I might
to put lockdown on propensity
for sweat glands (synonymous
with the term eccrine) packed
within sub surfaces of hands, fore
head and feet. As linkedin to
sympathetic nervous system,
the body electric under stress
activates glands. Profuse moisture
dripping like a faulty faucet
severely affected everyday
activities of existence since a
young adult. Frustration to
complete a simple task such
as opening a doorknob, using
the laptop, and even writing
concomitantly associated with
droplets of water soiling green
sleeves to appear near saturated.
Without fail interpersonal ambitions
hi-jacked when wet as dishrag hands
found me disinclined to experience
social rejection. Though sprung
from overactive predisposition to
anxiety, these secretory organs
get exacerbated with dubiously
honorable privilege of being gifted
with panic attacks, offers little
comfort to sill lake consolation.
OLE SCRATCH’S BEST WHET DREAM
By Roy Merritt
The devil he likes the city
But he likes the country too
The devil he’s likes them city folk
But he really loves them rubes
The denizens of the city
They know they live in sin
But country folk they love them some Jesus
But never would walk with him
They need to pray, they need to pray
Before they lose their very soul
They need to pray today
Why do they hate everybody
If they’re so sure they’re heaven bound
They’re destination ain’t really glory
Ain’t goin’ up, but down
I can only imagine them
When Ole Scratch answers the door
I can almost hear them cryin’
When them tears start to pour
They need to pray, they need to pray
Before they lose their very soul
They need to pray today
They’re foolish people so
Who knows what they’ll think
They voted for all this crap
And even the kitchen sink
And how will they act
When they come to realize
They been duped and swindled again
Right before their eyes
They need to pray, they need to pray
Before they lose their very soul
They need to pray today
And that’s why the devil
He likes them best of all
Lookin’ forward to seeing them
On their belly and ready to crawl
Yes sir the devil looks at them
With love beyond extreme
These suckers are the cream of crop
Ole Scratch’s best whet dream
They need to pray, they need to pray
Before they lose their very soul
They need to pray today
They need to pray, they need to pray
Before they lose their very soul
They need to pray today
ready for black belt test
green is the arena
protected by aura
fairy umbrella dewed
like teddy
eddy whorls
but steady
spready tail
winning wed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I would like to thank you for your visit.
I have removed these poems for a distant future book publication.
I believe we poets, can make a difference
in this world. We live in the 21st century,
we have tools( technology), we have our past, and imagination.
We just don't have the courage, because
I guess most are afraid to fail, to loose money.
All I have to say is we can't take money with us,
when we die. I also say hasn't mankind failed enough,
and isn't mankind worth the effort, our children is worth the effort..
Thank you, and my your God Bless you
John E WordSlinger
GEOFF: A Whet Pirouette Poem
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
furry, spry squirrel, Geoff
Chaucer he doth channel
"Come and 'whet thine whistle'."
"Poof! abracadabra!"
Really?
Now Georgie,
you're silly!
be smiley,
beguilely!
Whet my keen appetite?
Yes, you have - for revenge
against my long standing,
wry, furry nemesis.
He's not wet...
yet. Blast a
water jet!
Get that scamp
to regret.