He heard that the zoo was for sale;
a donkey and tiger he'd 'nail':
'I want' - to the lass -
'your pussy and ass!'
(And that's why he's banged up in jail...)
For yer supper, vindaloo,
hop to the music doing a poo,
toilets are crowded, yer tummy is mush,
bang the doors and plead with 'em, 'Rush.'
Drop yer pants and let it go,
paper's all gone (but yet you don't know),
fearing the soap is now missing too, yes?
Well, jus' saying...You're in a mess!
Bananas and cucumbers find
a place in the dirtiest mind.
Is losing her cherry
to courgettes a worry?
Who knows but one's up her behind...
I fought to stay like wood
On where I had long stood
Concerning 'who is crude'.
And who's rather the rude
Which of the two is good?
Both sides could make one brood,
Wake up with aches and fluid.
The crude's manners are nude,
The Rude betrays bad mood.
To the World he's The Shrewd,
Whose views are not pooh-poohed...
But who can near his food?
I could sup with the crude,
Sometimes the crude damned good:
You're free in his gown with hood...
This I'd tried with Rude Jude
And still over it brood.
Pieces of broken glass.
Slow tears in a broken heart.
Insipid vows.
Doubtful romance!
I am on the brink.
I adore loving.
But dread sorrow.
I endure crude agony.
Being far off your sway.
However, I am terrified.
that could serve me.
Written: June 18, 2022
Wispy, striated clouds
Across the pale blue sky
Revealed by the sun proud
Who is low now, not high
Across the pale blue sky
A swallow dips and dives
Who is low now, not high
Closer to earth, survives
A swallow dips and dives
Catches those bugs for food
Closer to earth survives
Feeding young, though its crude
With live bugs as young wait
Catches those bugs for food
Young not knowing their fate
Feeding young, though its crude
Catches those bugs for food
Revealed by the sun proud
Feeding young though its crude
Wispy, striated clouds
I checked my poem on this site in the Grammar Checker. It said it was okay.
Written: June 03, 2022
There was a time we were independent,
exporting energy out to the world.
Natural gas helped make us ascendant,
before the energy plan was unfurled.
Clean coal is indeed oxymoronic,
but our technology, better than most.
Nuclear probably is the world's tonic;
solar won't get you a night on the coast.
Shutting down pipelines, pleading with Saudis,
suspending drilling on government land…
With these pump prices, I'm getting rowdy;
time for the little guy to make a stand.
Putin? Darned tootin', he is an *ss hat,
but when I let loose, well, "Biden did that!"
----------
I'm driving the truck as little as possible these days, but $90 for half a tank of diesel is enough to bring out a bit of a rant...
The feeling-cheated Igbo of Nigeria
Now judges her a worse malaria,
To keep celebrating Donald Trump
While bemoaning his angering dump …
But plans he to start smiling at Biden,
For one should often one’s options widen,
When at stake is life-transforming Crude oil,
With huge pipes channeling it to far-off soil.
The Fast-choking-with-anger Igbo
Might start an emergency Judo
For an ending of his humiliation,
That took off from the day of assimilation.
Now, I see a colder shoulder
To all Negotiation Tables,
A Stone-throwing kid trying a boulder,
And hangmen’s dropping of ropes for cables.
Already, it’s a kung fu- movie – watching people,
Disturbingly worshipped by their cripple.
Holding it in as long as I possibly could
[Wouldn’t want to stink up my neighborhood]
So, I hurriedly ran to a nearby park
And, surrounded by sweet-smelling flowers
I let it rip! No one was near to hear me
But the sound was ear-splitting, I tell you,
And when it comes to farts, mine was a doozy
So, I hurried home and got in my jacuzzi.
written October 2, 2021
especially for "May The Gas Be With You Farts" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
I maintain we are rude
Not only when our manners are crude,
Determinedly wolf down our food,
Our dressing hopelessly nude,
Publicly start a feud,
Into others affairs intrude,
Keep laughing as others brood
But also when others are in a meditative mood
And have up stood
And we are still sitting down
Like one waiting for a cup of coffee, chocolate brown!
As I didn't realize that I lived
just a dream in the form of a nightmare,
so then I held on a nonexistent future...
I reaped the unhealthiness of posterity
of hope, and the taste
of absence of real life...
From
Far sky
Falling down
The brightest star
By crude frustration
On alone ground;
Silent fire
Lost in
Feet!
14.06.2020
****
On the sadistic immature death of Sushant Singh Rajput (21 January 1986 – 14 June 2020) , Bollywood Star
In matters of paintings
and choice of food,
your taste and mine are
just as good.
Picasso, Da Vinci,
spicy taco, broccoli
To each his own,
to each his mood.
No one's chic or
classy, gross or crude!
A Shrewd While Rude and Crude Dude
Matt Whitaker for sure.
As can be, Whitaker has really been shrewd,
And we should toss in lewd as well as crude;
In came;
Brain lame;
An ignorant, inept and outright dumb dude.
Jim Horn
My analysis of Whitaker before his hearing
which ain't too good.
She didn’t play poker so well.
Her bluff was as clear as a bell.
Her insides would quaver
So much that they gave her
A hell of a smell of a tell.
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