Santa’s village was on the edge of reconstruction and renovation.
the elves were excited, they held a parade and massive celebration.
Electronics, cell phones and I-pads are sought by children of today.
The workshop was full of antiquated equipment to toss away.
No one wanted wooden blocks or dolls that talk or wiggle.
They still had a filing cabinet of Barbie dolls that had a giggle.
Super hero items are now the absolute must-have rage.
They needed to delete obsolete toys that never reached a finished stage.
Santa’s reindeers were dancing around all joyful too.
They were on permanent break, for deliveries now came through Lou.
Lou was the head elf, and a big proponent of Amazon Prime.
So the reindeers could lay around and dine, all of the time.
We get approximately three boxes a day in deliveries
My husband is the ultimate order-machine
He takes more stuff back than most people order
I am sure UPS knows his name now
These boxes stack up on couches, the back of a bookshelf,
Beds, chairs, tables, and other not-for-boxes-places
When I get tired of them, I burn them in a huge bonfire
I love this part of the boxes the best, thus I encourage these orders.
Be good to your mother
In this next life, she won't come back
More than half of her life lived because of you
Be sure to treat yourself well
After you become a father or a mother
You will become like them
Almost living with your children
One day, you will leave in this world
You will see that
No one in this world will truly love you like them
When life gets tough
Don't tell your mother all the time
She probably won't help you
She also has insomnia
There's a sentence that hurt me
If one life could change one
In this roof of this hospital
That would be too many mothers lining up
For check up and child deliveries
In the end, having a car in front of the house
Is not rich after all
But having a mother at home is blessed
Come back home to your parents regularly
Don't let yourself regret anything
Remember your parents while still here
Parents go, life still has a way back for them
After all the love our parent give
Are the love that we children get.
THE NIGHT BEFORE
Twas the night before Christmas
Just after Yule, the winter solstice
Two big events need no poultice
Between these dates, an isthmus
All stores had now finally closed
Counters emptied of festive fayre
Shelves now nearly stripped bare
A Rudolph toy forever red nosed
Last minute gifts due for wrapping
Santa is left with a billion deliveries
His reindeer waiting in their liveries
And tired elves told off for napping
By morning, it may feel like a chore
Yet a critical task worth completing
But houses now have central heating
With no working chimneys anymore
Driving down the danger zone my destiny dies in a dead end street
Dragging dilapidated deliveries doing the Damn Demons divine deed
Distance deceives my demented disguise the dumb things I don't do
Decisions divide deep, deep inside the Devil's debt is way past due
The Mark of Madness melts away most of my meager mental mind
Masqueraded as this monster man, malicious, morbid eyes made blind
Minced meat is the aftermath of millions of marching, marching men
Mutilated in mislead miles of the massacre's modern mazes again
Frightened and forged in fear from fought fires that forever flare
Feelings flip in the floppiness as a filet fish feels in fresh air
First forget as focus fled floating fails falling to land face first
Faster the flow you freeze now froze finally your face finds free dirt
bmdavey@09/19/2024
She was back into my life after a long sejours
how could I not welcome her at the table
after so many suns and moons
Having crossed the oceans of reality,
my dream was a surreal bizarre reel,
featuring my sister
sitting at a table ogling whimsical canopies.
She says "I'm hungry," but when it comes time
to eat, she can't ,
Large strips of duck tape pasted
on both mouth and nose.
"so I could breathe better" was all she says;
I remember a much younger Lupita,
telling me she dreamt of midnight chocolates
wrapped in silver paper
with blue stars on them.
It's been six long years since I last saw her
the silence between us has epoxied
turning into a gluey exhibit;
Probably both of us are starving
for mother's homemade milk soup,
Though mom has been dead for eons,
like the Divco truck that rattled our glass bottles
like the memory of father on the balcony
holding a paintbrush, smelling of tobacco and paint,
This fantasmal dream of mine has no beginning,
and certainly no end.
Feeling of anticipation to open boxes on the front porch like it's Christmas
TRIBUTE TO DMX
Rough and rugged, raw and real,
DMX's spirit is a fiery force to feel.
His rhymes reverberate, reaching deep,
In every listener's heart, his words grip.4
A streets lord, he's one of the lyrical Kings,
The speakers bamp to the beat when he sings.
His passion for life is inherent in every verse.7
With a voice as thunder, a presence among thugs,
In the world of hip-hop, he forever belongs.
In the raunchy rowdy rap game, his roar resounded,
DMX, a dynamic, daring dynamo, deeply devoted.¹¹
From gritty streets to grand stages, he growled,
We weigh his weighty words & our blood flowed.
His gritty, guttural growls gained global glory.
His deadly deliveries made him the real homie¹5
Through darkness and light, he bared his soul,
With every performance, he made us whole.
A legend, a warrior, forever in our heads,
Earl DMX Simmons, your legacy never sheds.¹?
This is a tribute to the legendary DMX. His impact will be felt for generations & the next.²¹
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©? January 2024.
late shoppers are in for big trouble
their deliveries are abubble
as everyone knows
all department stores close
USPS loads are all double
We pull into a Winding Station,
Hand the Attendant our key,
Head into the Station Inn
For a snack and Earl Grey Tea.
In less than an hour,
Our machine being oiled
The tension being adjusted
And our spring tightly coiled,
I slip the motor into gear
And we are off on our way
To the next Winding Station
One hundred miles away.
At Fifty miles an hour,
A once undreamed of rate,
Along the new Travel Road
Such a joy to navigate.
We pass Steam Waggons
Pulling their heavy loads
Along the mostly parallel
Heavy goods roads.
With canals and railways
The country is connected
And once long journeys
Take far less than expected.
The Waggoner with his lad
Pulled by their great Shire
Makes the local deliveries
Always there for hire.
Can this world be bettered
Clockwork coal and steam
Let us travel at speeds that
Were once but a dream.
Beautiful things in life have to do with taste
But who can tame those taste buds that seem to never waste
Has anyone been so careful in his eating habits
Today we are constantly nibbling like bunny rabbits
It is through eating that our first parents were tempted
And it is in through eating (the eucharist) that our sins get exempted
Yet food has been the greatest battle in my life
Greater than even those which I have with my wife
Monday to Fridays we are over our laptops, slouched
Come weekends-endless are the walks between the refrigerator and couch
And what of today, burgers, fries and other fast foods
Swiggy, Zomato and other food deliveries get us in right mood
At the swipe of our cell phone everything made so easy
We want to tempt those taste buds even when the thought makes us queasy
At the rate at which we are gobbling
I’m afraid in the mirror one day I will be spooked by an ugly fat goblin
From the deepest reservoirs of the heart,
There resides the source of our soul's river.
From the beginning, from the very start,
There is the issuing out of a river flow,
Without this, we would cease to grow.
Sometimes releasing a myriad of issues,
Or just a few, revealing things old and new,
Heavenly mysteries that we never knew.
Without ceasing, occasionally gushing,
Often with force like white water rapids.
It is continually rushing to and fro.
It ceases not its navigation through
Its faithful ever-ready conduits,
Continually cleansing and healing
Along its elongated passage.
So, let the river flow.
Make room for its overflow.
Let every tributary join its force
As their waters congeal to reach the
Awaiting open sea. Let there be no dams,
Delays, or detours. Let the river determine
Its own course. Read carefully what the river is saying
And embrace those 'Special Deliveries' from the heart.
We can find out anything
By clicking on our phone
And possibilities exist
More than the world has known.
Deliveries come to our door
With anything we need
And plenty that we don’t,
With satisfaction guaranteed.
The opportunities abound
To travel and to learn
As chances keep expanding
To reach goals for which we yearn.
With all of these accomplishments
We’ve never had before,
Well, who’da thunk that there would
Still be poverty and war?
That there would still be hatred
And stupidity and greed,
Small-mindedness, brutality
And bullies to mislead?
Technology’s advances
Might have given us a boost,
But you woulda thunk such problems
Woulda somehow been reduced.
Lost Art
There was a time
when we waited eagerly
for the mailman -
when mail deliveries
had actual mail in them
There were real
hand-written letters
from parents,
cousins, children, friends,
maybe a lover,
perhaps birthday cards
or get-well wishes
or postcards from far off.
Now we have e-mail
instant gratification –
no waiting for days
Jot off a note with
a click and it’s there
No more long pages of
small talk about family,
friends, the neighborhood,
or a new recipe,
things that make
letters enjoyable.
Now mailboxes overflow
with advertisements
unwanted catalogues
political cards full of
slander of opponents
and dubious information
Most of all, requests
for money, accompanied by
unwanted and unneeded
tote bags, return labels,
t-shirts and greeting cards -
all paid for with money
supposedly sent
to provide help
for some needy cause
Trees sacrificed for what?
junk mail, trashed as soon
as it’s out of the mailbox!
What of all the history
gleaned from letters
over the years?
Most e-mails are deleted.
Whatever could be learned
from them is gone.
The written letter
has become a lost art.
Kids the world over ceased believing in Santa Claus
Worshipping Amazon they put Big Red on pause
Stirred by the blue truck instead
Toys—never coal never lead
Deliveries insured, reindeer lack a cause
Dusted with magic the good children await
Like Twitter it’s the end of Amazon‘s fate
Gifts stolen, or lost, kids are sad
Thinking twice about being bad
Laughing all the way, Big Red can’t stay irate
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