Come on! Is that the best blast you've got?
Your thunder tantrums don't scare me - Your flash and flare they're half hot!
I love this dunder, blunder, thunder, and underhand rumble-in-the-jungle!
Touché! Olé! We're duellin' again with fork-pronged lightn' sparkling lances.
Clang! Bang! Ker-pow! Ker-plunk! Ker-thump! - Your thunder's late by years!
I flash, bash, smash, crash, gnash — while your Ker-boom goes boom blah, blah, Ahah!
Your quick flashback, claptrap wisecracks come back five seconds late.
Bolt after bolt, your jolts, revolts, cheap-shots and pot-shots hit my ear flaps.
All roar, no score, no gore, no nosebleeds — just air stabs in ionized air.
By then your temper, torage, outrage, out in the garage is binned — You lost!
You ain't learned nothin' from last night's plate-a-smashin' dry run.
Oh No! Don't let the rain come down!
We're both having far far too much fun!
You can't resist, can you — spoiling the perfect row —
By making up, way, way, way ..... too soon!
Don't drag me into
your petty wars
I am not into that sort
of claptrap
I am off with Enigma
in the real world
walkin on the beach
making gourmet food
and some whoopie too
What is it with these drama gals?
I swear you can never escape...
Always a villian in someones eyes
like living and breathing is bad news
and you stole their thunder
even if you don't live in the same genre
You just happen to breath the same air
Use the same tools
I make my music for me
not for anyone else
I don't give a if you like it
It was never about you anyway
So keep writing your diss songs
into the wind, that's your issue
few people even have a clue
what you are belly achin about now
Just next week it will be someone else
its your drama oh rama... pattern
the invisible war, no one else started
but you always happen to show up for
Bi polar much?
Bi polar much?
Bi polar much?....
I have a great aunt who can blether and blather about nothing
she drops hints about her wealth as she spits her gobbledygook
Since she is 97, I ignore her nonsense, but she has no idea
For I have her on speaker and every once in a while I grunt
Or I say “uh-huh”, or “oh, yeah”. I never have to say tell me more.
Her claptrap hogwash tripe is longer than the longest freight train.
It stretches from Omaha to California. Empty talk, for sure.
I put the phone down sometimes and vacuum a room.
Or take the clothes out of the washer and put them into the dryer.
When I return, she is still talking. Balderdash nonsense, for sure.
She loves the fact that I do not call her on her bunk and bull.
I check her off my list of people to call for a month. Win win.
Cunning cuckoo, craftily creeping,
Cackling, cawing, constantly cheating!
Clocks keep clanging, chiming, churning,
Cuckoo’s call--chaotic, concerning!
Cranky critters, clueless, confused,
Chased the cheater--cleverly bruised!
Cuckoo, chuckling, cheekily flew,
Claiming nests like cuckoos do!
Wouldn’t trust that cuckoo chap--
Crafty con artist with a claptrap trap!
When debate gets personal and inflamed,
You cry: 'Why can't you talk like an adult?'
'Why can't you engage in adult conversation,
without the claptrap, rants and rage with hurls of abuse and name calling?'
But, I wonder if this is really wise.
For out of the mouths of babes big things grow!
Little voices, utter unfiltered truths.
Resplendent in their concise simplicity.
Unbound by convention's constraints.
They see the world with profound clarity devoid of taints.
They ask easy questions, from their inquiring minds,
That challenge adult's cluttered and confused assumptions.
Their untamed and unabashed honesty in talk,
Cuts to the quick of the question's inner core and kernel.
Children see the world with fresh, clear eyes,
Unfettered by custom fetish, bias or disguise.
Innocent voices, unfiltered and all too true,
Speak simple truths, we've forgotten we knew.
Adults need to speak more child-like,
to be truly useful, helpful and truthful.
pitter patter drips drops and plops
blathers blatters splatters sploshes and drips
bitter twitter twatters and twaddles, flips and flops
chitter chatter babbles claptrap baas and blahs
slithering sliding slues, slips and skips
blotches mottles splotches and spots scars and mars
splutter flutter splatter clatters, a kick-started motorcar
crunched cracked munched and punched the whacked gears strips
hipping and hopping, skipping and bop bop bopping, we're not going far
A long time ago, grandpa told me
amateur athletes crossed oceans and paid the fees
Every four years a noble spirit arose
emblazoned on a torch, fiery and free
A spirit clear, shining bright and true
the Olympic spirit, one that cut through
The claptrap of power, regulation and rules
crossing the finish line in brotherhood
Woman’s Desire
What’s all this rigmarole and claptrap
About the man being the only one thinking of sex?
Well, truth be known,
A woman, skin deeply eager, thinks much of it too…
Once leaving the job, after
The shopping; the vaccuuming; the cooking; the pots,
Pans, and dishes; after the childrens’
Homework, meals, baths, and good-night kisses;
Once the cat and dog have gone out and in
Twice, been fed, and cooed over while petted;
After inquires about her spouse’s work, complaints,
And wishes; after the phone calls to people of concern;
After checking the bank account, new emails, and
Cleaning out her handbag; counting out lunch monies;
Preparing the morrow’s snacks and clothing; writing
The lists of to-do’s and schedules; and, preparing medications…
Afrter all that, following ten minutes of rest
In a cushioned chair,
Among the first wishes of her long-patient body,
Is for some time to linger, living
Pleasure’s words whispered by her passion’s tongue.
A woman desires to lay felt and feeling sensuously
With her beloved, warm and spent,
Close to sleep at her side.
——————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 9/16/2023
Good news, bad news – more coming each day
Seems my neighbors keep me duly informed
About someone younger recently passing away.
I hear about the children being born deformed
Someone thinks I’d be their perfect officiant
Seems my neighbors keep me duly informed.
I’m thinking my opinions are no longer relevant
I’m outspoken, folks want to know what I meant
Someone thinks I’d be their perfect officiant.
With age comes arthritis and swallowing mint
My daily junk mail is increasing exponentially
I’m outspoken, folks want to know what I meant.
I suppose I’ll escape all the claptrap eventually
Hopefully, I’ll come to a place of peaceful rest,
[Did I mention] junk mail increasing exponentially.
In the meantime, I’m sincerely doing my best
Good news, bad news – more coming each day
Hopefully, I’ll come to a place of peaceful rest
About someone younger recently passing away.
Written August 10, 2022
Leaving very comfortable warmth
I didn't want to come
Forcefully I have been sent to
The blazing fire of the earthen furnace
Even there was no relief of huge crying
From the bone crushing claws of the Harpy eagle.
Seeing a lot of claptrap and complexity
Seeing the dirty politics of knotting pubic hair
Sent myself to the solitary forest from scratch
To be lonely in this manner is the best in the world
Staying inside the shell like a snail is an immaculate beauty.
From the time of arrival there was a rush to go back
However, Chand Miah , the fact is that-
At the time of departure, looking back-
I don't know where, I see a hard twist,
I feel a pathetic pull inside.
Baloney, bumfuzzle, fiddledeedee
Taradiddle, gardyloo, snickersnee
Gobbledygook, gardyloo, tickle me,
Hullabaloo, cattywampus hogwash hoo-ha
Claptrap, collywobbles ballyhoo brouhaha!
~A Brian Strand 4 or 5 line contest.
On the eve of the new call,
wits mated with passion,
zeal donated by conception,
hypersensitive pulls attracted all,
contracts into a horrendous span
as independence made for the span.
But after those,
the cry was severed by greed
seasoned by ills inflected by politics,
as all patriots the new trend follow.
By and by: a swap
as the intended assumed claptrap.
The 1960 independence,
in depend ends.
19:10:01:15:16
The cherub wrapped in rose - chaste chariot.
A sprightly chain stirs charismatic horse
Across the ages to answer one’s prayers.
A demon with a plot to spare one’s prayers.
Betide the lightning strike, toward chariot,
but for the heretofore of God’s blest horse.
Sole-kick displays golden crescent of horse.
Claptrap scream of demon without a prayer!
Away spurs the audacious chariot.
Behold chariot and horse - answered prayers!
2/19/2019
A Tritina For Messina
Weakness lies in the heart of gold,
a heart of gold can still be broken.
O man of empathy, so naive,
who gives until all has been taken.
Hearts of gold are unsustainable,
their foundations appear strong and true,
but life, stalking, like a lion,
hiding in the tall grass, unexpected as always,
He rips, and tears, far beyond repair!
Oh, what a fib! Such claptrap, and twaddle!
Do you still claim your heart to be
made out of some precious metal?
Intuition snaps a thin slice.
A shortcut fast and frugal.
It rules with thumb, feels with gut,
both unconscious and instinctive.
It takes the best,
what it knows is apt and really matters.
It ignores the rest,
what it knows is inapt and just claptrap.
So hold your gaze in contemplation.
Delay your blink, not to think,
but to let your instincts make snap decisions.
The instant you blink,
that's it,
it's done,
shuttered and dusted.
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