I like predictable tv shows
Colombo always followed the perpetrator
In Death in Paradise the inspectors solve every case
Someone on the stand confesses in every Perry Mason episode
Harvey Korman always falls on his butt on the Carol Burnett Show
No matter who the Equalizer is, he or she fixes everything for a good guy
John Wayne always beat the bad guys in every movie
Until The Cowboys when he was murdered by Bruce Dern
I never liked Bruce Dern after that
And I never watched another John Wayne movie
I like predictable movies too
I stare into the abyss
Drenched in darkness
Such astute draconianic situation
How deep it is
For pareidolia as coping mechanism
A mirk gorge
Painfully intoxicating
I like to dern in the night
Yet I seek to be in sight
I am an aonaran
A nyctophile
The aggrieving jeopardize situation
My hands darkened with what I've done
I sit in the dark
Alone
This redneck is fixin' to go dancin'
You reckon we get gussied up and go?
I'll be a high flutin' and a prancin'
Is the honky-tonk puttin' on a show?
Shall I wear my fanciest clod hoppers?
Shall I phone all your fiddle playin' kin?
I am gonna be such a show stopper.
We shall enter the dance contest and win.
I've got a hankerin' for hot romance,
And some granny-slappin' hillbilly sex.
Bear ten younguns, live in 'ternity pants
Did you just skedaddle, my newest ex?
Dern it, Darlin', thought we were so well matched.
I counted my chickens before they hatched!
Written 3/2/2017
Entered in Mid December Premiere
Hosted by Brian Strand
Come Dance
"Come dance with me", she said and smiled
And he fell off his chair.
He blushed and rose and all the while
He couldn't help but stare.
Prettiest thing he'd ever saw
Was askin' him to dance.
If he could only work his jaw,
He'd dern shore take a chance.
He led her 'round the floor with ease,
And fell in love right there.
She still recalls a gentle breeze,
But not a breath of air.
He gave up drinkin', runnin' 'round,
She filled up her hope chest.
He wouldn't lose what he had found,
She felt that she was blessed.
They bought a place just west of town
And filled it full of cows.
That ranch has never let them down,
They never broke their vows.
Now fifty years have come and passed,
They raised a crop of boys.
The grandkids all are girls at last,
They make a lot less noise.
He rocks upon the porch awhile,
Her voice comes from within.
He knows she says it with a smile,
"Come dance with me again."
It sucks sometime not having people on the same wave length as you
Page as you
Daze craze captivating sensitity too
It really does when it seems it's only you
Who knew
The time would come and standing on ten toes to presue
People places six figure status with you
Dern I love being who
Mirror image televised station who
Televised reitterized comfort shows rolled up film of you
Everyone will see you
So who knew
It may have sucked but time has caught up with you
Mary, Mary
Mary, Mary, where yall be
Behind the shed I see
Sitting on a bucket
Two shakes and blow
Snakes eyes rolls
Mary, Mary, where yall be
Gosh darn, dang it
Wrestling with Billy
over a piece of watermelon
One lick to the eye
cheek swell , black eye
Mary, Mary, where yall be
I havn’t got a lick of work out of yall
dern tootin, when I gits yall ,
Yall find yourself in a heap of trouble
Yall britches won’t have
a Sears and Roebuck book
© Eve Roper 4/21/2015
Alice had many friends, seems quite a few others
have fallen down the rabbit's hole.
Janet appears often at the foot of the mushroom arguing with the Caterpillar.
Rubbing her legs tired from dream running,
"Dern nightmare's always chasing me!"
Alice pokes her. "Miss Janet, why don't you stop running? Have a piece of cake?"
Somewhere, Janet hears her sisters voice listing sweet things, warm, cuddly kittens,
chocolate bunnies, candy canes...the voice fades in and out..
Screams too come from far off, "Get OUT!, get out..I hate you!" Her mother cries.
And lots of other nasty things too naughty for a little girl to repeat.
Smoke wreathes around the Caterpillar's head and the circles
spiral downward tickling Janet's nose.
"Alice?" "Yes Janet?"
"Why do they say there's no place like home?"
Alice frowns, "You shouldn't ask me dear,come...
let's find Dorothy for you!'
Ya know whuuut?
E’en when Iiiii’m dawunk
I aam steel a gud po’et,
An if this dern puter
keybroad wud stop
mov’n in curcles,
I cud e’en show it.
In…in…intoxication
dun mmm’pair me none;
I’ll jest show you
how dis is done.
Ware’s my bottle?
I need a wittle more.
Oh man…
My head is kinda sore.
She shouldna left me!
I di’nt mean to do it.
Well, I’ll jest write a love pom to her,
“How mush do I luv you…”
Ahhhh, screw it!!!
I messed up – di’nt I?
I do’n know why.
I guess I’m just a boob.
I probly shud eat some food.
She ain’t com’n back this time,
I jest know it.
You think this kinda pain
will make me a bettur poet?
Uh, oh.
I do’n feel sooo gud.
I feel like I might pass out,
but she di’nt hav to shoutttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
tttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
tttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
tttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
“I’m gonna get a beebee gun ya dern critters and shoot yer I’s out.”
“That’s right purty ladies grip yer hips, shut yer lips and leave the page.”
“I seen them I’s. All those ego tis tical bloody I’s!”
“Now who the dern hell else would it be, I wonder?”
“Step away from THAT page tiny Mildred!”
“That’s right, that’s it, dang it, all those dern that’s are giving me a fit.”
Calm down Dad. I think ya’s been a eatin too much alphabet soup?
“Well, I never.” “Aye, aye, I aye, in China they do……..”
“DADDY!” “Sister grab the beebees. Dad’s trying ta load
and Bitsy’s wrrrittting!!!
T hey’d aughta not called nookie
H eaven’s blessed cookie...
E ither burd or bee, cause neither's a lookie!
B urds well der feathered, not like me?
I n da interest of clarity, I’m certainly NO bee?
R obins do have red breasts and I have two, see?
D ern, maybe dat's why dey calls dem da burds and da bees?
S o, if da ladies da burd, da guy must be da bee?
A nyway, why didn’t dey call IT da cows and da doves?
N ow, cows at least got legs and doves are for luv!
D rat, I still don’t get da bee stingy thingie, "Gov?"
T he bees has a sting YIKE and bees sure love honey.
H ell, maybe they thought a man'd sting ya for money?
E ither dat or “Hmmm,” some ladies are real punny?
B et we women smell real sweet, I guess, and da bees fly to honey?
E eeeeeekkk, I so confuddled, I feel like Mikey Rooney?
E ach dern metaphors is making me more looney tooney!
S imply forget da dern foolishness and give me a groomie!
I’m just a used-to-be cowboy
With one boot in the ol’ cow pie—
I used to be quite the young gent;
Now I just wait around to die.
Oh, you know you’re getting’ dern old
When your knees creak like your saddle—
And your skin feels just like leather
And you smell like them ol’ cattle.
Then you cain’t ‘member like you used
And your mustache is all nose hair—
While your head’s smooth as river rock
When it used to be long and fair.
Then your ol’ sex drive done rode off
And left a droop that sure is cruel—
It’s where your butt done used to be
And where you used to keep your jewels!
I reckon growin’ ol’s no joke:
There’s nothin’ in it to rejoice—
And though your parts do stop workin’—
It’s better than the other choice!
Why is sweetness a target for the buggiest frights?
Sweets do attract the sweet but
honey can come with a sting.
You see, the dern ants are in the honey jar
so I had to throw out the thing!
Why is it you can’t have anything sweet without ants?
You know, I’ve never seen a nose on an ant, have you?
The sweet ones don’t run around with signs on there backs.
Do they?
Seems the buggy ones always win
or foul the honey.
Why is sweetness a target for the buggiest frights?
Children should be able to eat sweets from anyone.
But, they can’t. There’s always a nut job somewhere.
Perhaps, sweet things should evolve a sting?
You get in the honey jar and you say die of diabetes?
Unless, the sweet thing gives you the auntie dote.
Sweets do attract sweet but
at least the honey bee HAS a sting!
Things would stay sweet a lot longer without coocoonuts!
Becarefull NOT to let ants in the honey jar,
or..you’ll have to throw it ALL out!
There’s a bag of candy in my kitchen drawer.
It’s hidden THERE, in the candy drawer?
In the drawer THERE (point, point)
The licorice bits are in a bag.
A special bag ZIP LOCKED.
THERE (point, point) with the old refrigerator magnets.
THERE, with the unused toaster oven tray.
Refuse in a drawer, to good to discard.
Residents of the drawer hold back the tide;
hold messages from the Dali Lama.
Hold toast on a tray.
But, the dern refuse drawer’s not keeping me away!
the blue track of THE bag
peeks out of the drawer
I just can’t refuse it!
I WANT SOME MORE!!!
It seems the Old West and America
Are two of the many things we must save—
All these changes are coming much too fast—
Big John Wayne must be turning in his grave.
They’ve done and made cowboys an evil thing;
Seems like there aren’t no heroes anymore—
TV westerns and movies are now rare—
There aren’t any causes left to die for.
Oh, but we are politically correct
And limp-wristed we brag on how we’re green—
But green’s just another dern word for red—
It all takes our freedom and is obscene.
Yes, when did our country take the wrong path?
Where’s truth, justice, the American way?
It seems our leaders are a bunch of fools
And they never listen to what we say!
It’s time to take back the land that we love
And live by our Lord’s and the cowboy’s code—
Praise God and pass the ammunition son—
We’ll ride to reclaim the country we’re owned!
Oh, why has the land we love gone astray?
And why aren’t we now the home of the brave?
And why have we let it all slip away,
While big John Wayne spins wildly in his grave?
There’s a long tradition of cowboys and their pals,
Watchin’ buckin’ broncos settin’ on wood corrals.
It’s something they enjoys and sure ‘nuff don’t avoids—
But, dern that wood is hard on their ol’ hemorrhoids!
Feels like they’s sittin’ on a brandin’ iron that’s hot—
It’s an awful feelin’ that ain’t too soon forgot.
And ridin’ saddles ain’t much better I allows—
But leastways there’s more paddin’ than them wood corrals!
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