Best Yack Poems
YACKETY-YACK
This broken pencil was just a nub – no longer usable.
I wanted to jot down the amount of this playbill dated September 08, 2001.
However, I decided to save the amount in my contacts of my cell phone.
These bifocal glasses are working to well.
I am observing a pigeon dropper slight of hands.
I am now walking down the street of angst.
Somebody had deliberately ticked me off.
Muscle spasms occurred.
I call my husband for him to come pick me up.
Disgusted by my lack of control, I begin to analyze my reasons.
Via conclusion, I derived that I am not going to be cheated out of a good life.
__________________________________________|
PENNED SEPTEMBER 30, 2014!
Dating nowadays is like chasing the wind,
Looking for that one special friend.
They are young and they are old, and most like to yack.
But for the most part, I would like to throw them all back.
There’s match.com, eHarmony, and Christian mingle,
All claiming to be the greatest thing if you are single.
It is what it is, but from now on before I court,
I will be getting the handy background report.
Bloody streuth look out mate here they come
The Tourists Downunder to have some fun
Clickin’ their cameras, looking goggle eyed
While out in the hot sun getting deep fried
Askin’ for service and getting in our hair
Makes you wonder if there really all there
Thinkin’ it Spring in the middle of May
Speakin’ foreign lingo, as they say G’Day
Forget we’re multi-cultural and highly urbanized
Give em the Aussie salute that the ads advertise
Imports are out, the Aussie image wins
Now here’s were your work it really begins
Wear Moleskins, an Akubra, Drizabone
Hide the credit cards and Bluetooth phone
Cover the microwave, throw out Sarah Lee
From now on its damper, pavolvas and billy tea
Yack about the outback and the old pioneers
Have a bush Barbie and down a few beers
Quote a couple of verses from old Banjo
Hobnob round the fire, put on a dinkum show
Get out the four wheel and take em for a drive
Never mention our crooks can eat you alive
Ignore all the snakes, sharks, mozzies and the flies
Crows flying backwards, and them peckin’ magpies
Explain that kangaroos don’t hop down our streets
Nor for breakfast do we bush tucker eats
Throw a boomerang, take em to a corroboree
Tell em the tour guides take care of the fee
Bush dances are popular, and so is Uluru
Dingoes, frilled lizards and wallaby stew
Show em the Australia that we’ve never seen
Mate tourists on nature are so bloody keen
Let em hug a koala, they’re as cute as can be
Just watch the bloody bastards don’t on em pee
Before they go home, help them spend all their loot
Then add departure tax, so they’re real destitute.
Sing “Waltzing Matilda”, “Advance Australia Fair”
In those tourist dollars, we all want to share
This Aussie image to some may seem passé
Mate you watch em flock here, what more can I say!
as turf wars go
here
the weapons concealed
before agendas revealed
and courtyard orders sealed
inside wetzel gooey goodness
grand central its not
maybe from the outside
but inside the buzz is low
the reverb high
lingering as smoke choking
on its own asthma
void of cache
or any semblance
of the character
chiseled into posts,
ceiling festoons
and the ethnic parades
chanting in uniform grunts,
silence and glares
required vitals from
their lost or stolen IDs
it isnt Union Station for nothing
a primal yack, spit and grin
flowing from the cakes of
baked commuters
forsaked souls
and a neighborhood watch
that drools in adoration
point a to point b (or c)
never had an intermission like this
then again
here
every director is the drama
they wish they could
coddle into love.
(10/30/13)
May all sacred,
but not quite omnipotent,
fathers learn this day
as we impatiently correct
our stress-disordered sons
That respect is earned,
so maybe disrespect is too
positive and negative layered
for and against authority
for and sometimes restlessly against
repeating Business As Usual
white middle-class dadisms:
You snooze
you lose
May apply to your lethargic
chronically anxious
thuggish
couch-surfing
cannabis-fed son
And yet feels counter-intuitive
for babies
and us great grandads
who need our outside rest
away from commercial
too lit up
and loud
and relentlessly plastic
inhumane degradations
In such a rabidly anxious hurry
to wait for inevitable pandemics
and genocide,
floods
hurricanes
tsunamis
forest fires
drought
dry river beds
famine
insomnia
rabidity
insurance company bankruptcy
government balkanization
supremacist tribalism
Silent self-medicating snoozes
feels like a healthy alternative to:
capitalist narcissism
anthro-supreme monotheism
monoculturing nationalism
painful survivalist isolation
demented diseases
species extinctions
self v other criminalizations
weaponizations
May feel like hoarding safety
for defense-oriented males
on a bad day
in a depressing moment
Become
yackity yack disrespectful
feeling entitled to rightwing exclusively define
"real [unwoke narcissistic] men."
Yet quietly hiding
under these sacredly respected
and secular unrespected unsuspecting layers
of diverse manhood hues and warring cues
lie traumatizing patriarchal cultures.
Capital co-invested resilient climates
prefer cooperatively active integrity
over passive faith-based respect
and dramatically traumatic disrespect
and unenlightened
stress-triggered verbal unrespect
accelerating competitions,
dis-integrity
unhealthy desecrating excommunications.
Consecrating sacred solidarity feelings
learned today
converge synergetic need/want supportive
resonant polyvagal
resilient communication systems
searching for win/win reconnections
Even when sometimes disrespectfully correcting
my pre- and post-traumatic
stress disordered father
son.
Younderward yokel yap
Yore Yorkshire yield yeager york-felow
Yak yiddle
Yammer yack yells
Yard yew yellows
Yellow-tails, Yellowhammers
Yonder yellowfin
Yellow yam yesterdays
Yuca, yogurt
Yesteryears years
Yours
It’s Unfinished Business
Knowing so well that you have the answer,
To church, Christian theology and beliefs,
That’s it’s just a mental illness majestic,
That they’re really only sanity thieves.
Shut up by the Youth Fellowship leader,
Who used disability and loneliness techniques,
Under the shelf of nobility, ruined asunder,
By their communication fabric and cliques.
Pleasured by evolution, overjoyed, focussed,
Able to express that meaning to be given,
Wanting to tell the whole story, not discussed,
Of behaviour, choice, sex and genetics, driven.
Going away for a bit, but will come back,
From those debates on creationism/evolution,
It’s unfinished business, the reply yack,
Time will give me my worth and derivation.
Rushing away from the Devils hair hoisting heave
Rushing to Gods downy laced embrace, searching as astray and bereaved.
Rushing away from your most tenebrous night-frights.
Rushing to your chain mail-cloaked knight.
Rushing away from the skies troubling tears.
Rushing to the sun-singed grassy spears.
Rushing away from the contemporary world atrocities.
Rushing to the falsely glazed generosities.
Rushing away no longer
Only rushing to authorities, tongue untied, and hands unclasped from behind my allegorically lashed back.
Rushing away, wiped from my options, forced to breathlessly quarrel and yack.
Beads of sweat roll down my back,
Feeling sick I nearly yack.
Body quivers, hands now shake
Tremors of my bodily earthquake.
Heard my name; I've been called
Stairs handrail I tightly hold.
I tap on the door to my right
Nerves prepares me for quick flight.
'It' stood head to toe in protective wear
An alien! I thought with irrational fear
Another voice says "please take a seat"
Two same aliens of meet and greet.
I go and sit in a reclining chair
Laid flat back; looking up I stare.
A long, sharp needle swiftly appears
The injection begins, I'm close to tears.
They're ready to proceed on my tooth
Rigor mortis sets me aloof.
Drilling starts, I fear the worse
Teeth and dentists are my curse.
14.06.22
Working for Snarl-Mart
By Elton Camp
Snarl-Mart’s lots to blame, I suppose
When some local stores had to close
The places run by Mom and Pop,
Slow sales just made them stop
Snarl-Mart can sell at prices retail
For less than they pay wholesale
Its great power to negotiate cost
To the smaller merchant is lost
“Just put us to the test
Our prices always best
Cost will you amaze
Sell for Less, Always.”
By such competition giving,
Many have lost their living.
Employees others had to fire
Snarl-Mart might deign to hire
Will perhaps give out another job
To replace the one they did rob
You have naught good to say
About their measly rate of pay
Little chance to have career
Most are part-time, we fear
Benefits along with your pay?
Hah, we say, just what are they?
With its great power to hire,
It can just as quickly fire.
If “associates” treated unfair
Not a union is there to care.
Will find to organize isn’t wise
A location that does, quickly dies
"We won’t be put through
Union telling us what to do"
To keep our prices so low
Worker raises have to go
If you don’t like our pay
Can replace you in a day
Not even a tiny bit do we care
Stupid smock to make you wear
“Can I serve you?” on the back
In case a customer want to yack
Better not be talking to your friend
If we learn you do, your job will end
Management has no tolerance at all
On the clock, for a personal phone call
Work while you are on the clock
Or know that pay we will dock
A second longer on your break
Will be a very serious mistake
No certain big box chain does this address
Many workers find themselves in this mess
Until the American economy turns around
Snarl-Marts will be your stomping ground
Anne Dickins
Anne was an endurance cyclist,
But in 2011 she ruptured her back,
Which meant that she did enlist,
Cauda equine syndrome, her yack.
A physiotherapist cool by profession,
And a Games Maker in London 2012,
Anne was offered good instruction,
In canoeing by Colin Radmore, wealth.
Although she suffered seasickness,
Anne took motion sickness lessons,
Normally for fighter pilots skill, duress,
Which meant she overcame sessions.
In 2014 at the ICF Worlds in Moscow,
She won the gold for the 200 metres,
And in 2015, Milan, a silver did follow,
Then 2016 at the Worlds, gold litres.
She was born on the 20th February,
In 1967, so she has much experience;
She won the gold in Rio’s hot country,
In the KL3 class of her convergence.
It was warm in the yurt; the desert was unyieldingly hot.
There was the slight scent of ylanylang, it was sweet.
The guy wearing the yarmulke had a captive audience
He was yacking to the point of yammering, I could barely watch.
Yack Yack Yack Yammer Yammer Yammer
How could these other guys stand it?
He was giving them his lowdown on the festival of Yule.
They yield the floor to him, which was insanity.
I know him well, and he has never attended such a festival.
Someone walked in carrying a tray of food including one yam.
That yam is mine! I yelled with a yowl.
I had not meant this as a yawp, but it came out that way.
I yearned to get out of this yurt, but the show was not over yet.
My cousin was stroking the back of an old man with yellow hair.
A youngster came over to me and asked for a bite of my yam.
I stared him down; I do not even like children; they have no place here.
This is for men, not babies.
Yum! I said. This is super delicious.
The youngster shrugged and waked off, seeming not to care.
Yesterday I might have been a bit more generous, but today I am angry.
I got talked into this gathering, and I knew it would be the Jerome show.
It is always the Jerome show when my cousin is about.
I yearn for the end of this craziness.
I want to go home and be me again.
Charley my wheel horse says that Jim is a yack, always jawing now.
They are both scrunchers, they nearly swallow their teeth on chow.
Jim is unsalted, but not lazy or slow, although he has trail dust grime.
He always responds well to “all hands and the cook” and in good time.
When the Mexican vaquero joins us, there is back slapping sure.
That’s when the biscuit roller trades in biscuits for tortillas, pure.
A ballyhoo? I do not think so, Bar dog. Can I get a John barley corn?
I would like to drink the cattle drive off my spurs, until it be morn.
How much does it cost to stay in the dice house tonight?
Don’t want to be honey-fuggled, so no Kansas sheep dip, all right?
a fresh mail order cowboy just entered the saloon, of course.
Don’t want to be a nosy parker, but did he just dismount the iron horse?
Did you see where I put my gelding smacker? I sleep with it naturally.
I am no lapper, but I could go for another John Barley Corn from thee.
Texas cakewalk tomorrow? Hmmm I wish I could stay but I am dragg’n.
Say hello to my cousin Sam, he drives the county’s meat wagon.
I kind of like a good hang’n when there’s a well-deserved California collar.
Was they horse thieves or murderers or what? Hey give my horse a holler.
I thought I saw a Cottonwood blossom when I rode into this place.
But there was no hellaballoo, so I wondered if it was the case.
It was in Westland that I met this barmaid,
She looked fragile,and complexed with manifestations of excellence,
That very night I sat exactly after four seperated bevies nailing myself to eminence,
Kindly when she served me a bottle of drink,
I spotlighted her beauty towards higher regard,though she saw herself as a fink,
Frankly,what I was seeing in her had a prospective blink,
This lady was pitch-black,
Framed in reality,she was an erudite and not a yack,
With inner pattern deemed with confidence,
I made her to believe the first sight attraction she spread out in alpha mense,
And she divided her lips into structure of my hopeful bens,
What came after that late night is when we're now couples on honey moon,
And I just can't match our excitements to what feelings intends to move,
Only when our personalities are commune and tied with a strong single loop,
Because,your presence has outlined the eyes of my heart to hold you in my room.
Making the Most of Old Age
By Elton Camp
Get old enough and you needn’t work anymore
For what you want, there’s more time than before
Should I now sit on my porch in a chair and rock
Maybe occasionally take a stroll around the block
Spend the day at the senior center to eat and yack
Any spark of creativity or unpopular opinion lack
Now that I am financially more secure and retired
And needn’t worry I’ll do something to get fired
What I say, write or do is now entirely up to me
It’s too tough if people don’t like what they see
As if a kindly old man, don’t me try to disallow
But say, “I sure wonder just what he’s up to now.”