Candy witch did not sell her sweet treats, she gave them away
Children of all ages ran over to consume, happy to play
She got them hooked on her confections, in an addicted way
They could not get off them, they followed her to I.O. Way
They gave up their parents, siblings, pets, hobbies, jobs and such
The only thing they wanted were her wares which now cost very much
Candy witch was getting richer, her consumers were getting angry and sad.
She was doling out her wares to new plebes, who at first were very glad.
She is sweet as a jujube that one
doling out Christmas cards by the ton
Her colorful clothes are like banners
and she reminds me of a sparkly elf
Wearing cute bows in her hair
she tells ding dong stories of old
A jolly girl that is as bright as can be
I love it when she sits by the Xmas tree
I call her my doppelganger my mini-me
her hair was once gold and now its gray
of those lovely cards, she owns a stack!
when she smiles she doesn't hold back.
The wizened crone understands bee medicine
Her friends are honey bees and bumblebees.
They have given her a special formula
Unshared with any other humans
She gives it to an adventurer
He discovers a new country.
She sells it to a rapist.
He falls down dead.
It helps good people get stronger
It gives seekers what they need
But those who hurt others do not do well with it
The old crone continues doling out the medicine.
Loving the results.
Pleasantly radiant, tranquil weather
blue skies & gently benevolent wind
a shimmering gift from Mother Nature
(a smoldering summer lurking in the distance)
Compulsively tracking an unquantifiable self:
steps, exercise minutes, calories, symptoms, etc.
stoical statistics dutifully logged into tired devices
(a futile endeavor to control life)
Cacophonous news oozing from the Malverse
menacing memes ricochet around the planet
updates of a horrid war threatening to devour the world
(a looming nuclear apocalypse)
Occupying space in old unedifying edifices gathering dark energy
running out the accelerating clock as civilization nears its breaking point
desperately seeking diversion while doling out doggerel
(a quest to imbue a desolate existence with meaning)
How long before it all falls apart?
Pallbearers filled the bus
Off to funerals in an angry rush
It’s the wicked; they say who have no peace
That’s why the Pallbearers get their release
They chose to capture all these kind
Stifling fear often & following blind
Praising their maker for the coffee they get
For it keeps them alive and physically fit
Gravestones etched and set aside
For those of them who fought and died
I suggest we find away
To corral the ones who have been led astray
Our focal point has been defaced
By all the ones who claimed disgrace
Let’s satisfy their wants and greed
By doling out just what they need
When tyrannical freedom tries earning its place
It’s the Pallbearers who will be leading the chase
So, lock them again in their pristine sleeping cells
Then pray they don’t remember their path out of hell
The Corona Virus is in town
Our schools have promptly shut down.
We are sending packets to each child.
They are rather daunting, nothing mild.
Two hundred pages are going out for each.
You know these kids are going to screech!
Children who sit in school for seven hours a day
And do not fill out more than a half a page, just play.
We are over confident down in the golden tower
Where the bigwigs sit and think up this stuff by the hour.
The A students will be excited; it will keep them busy a week.
The hundred and ninety-six others will not open them even a peek.
The Corona Virus is in town.
Our schools have promptly shut down.
We are sending these packets in an optimistic silly way.
Most will not be returned at all no matter what the day.
Faerie children were all a titter
It was spring time no longer bitter
Grandpa Faerie’s dandelion distribution day
They were giddy and happy from far away
They arrived in doubles and triples and quads.
They giggled and wiggled in all kinds of squads
Grandpa Faerie was out with great speed
Recognizing their happiness for this pretty weed.
My comings and goings disturbed her a great deal. So we sat on the sofa
and shared freshly popped corn. Let's make a deal lit up the TV screen.
Door number three I said. She laughed: Curtain number one she teased.
(Had she seen this re-run?). Reluctantly I agreed. You had to admire Monti Hall
doling out all that dough causing contestants wide-eyed hope of expectation. Oh, and that thick sure voice of his. Closing my eyes; leaning back on the couch,
I imagined myself masked in absurd attire.Curtain number three, if you please,
No! wait!Door number one. Who could of guessed I'd wind up winning an
uninspired mule and a mirror for a fool to reflect in.
He has a captured audience.
People stunned are too polite to engage.
He keeps doling out his asinine platitudes.
Oblivious, he keeps them coming.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I worry
In this well-connected world
I worry
Information overload
In a big hurry
Horrific acts daily
Come in a flurry
It’s enough to overwhelm
And make my sight blurry
And because of this
I worry
I’ve become part of the world’s jury
Doling out judgement
Of my keyboard’s fury
I worry
That I will no longer react
That I will become numb
To the fact
That I no longer care
That I no longer feel
That I no longer care to appeal
To the humanity
We should all share
This is why…
I worry
Eric (and sometimes not)
doling out
compliments for free ~
earning brownie points
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
The horses’ lacy white petticoats and ribboned pantaloons
Were kicked almost as high as a delightful orange harvest moon.
The anger came from the big burly brown baboons
Who were left out by the snotty uppity raccoon.
I felt like an uninformed ridiculous goon,
Because I had assigned the notorious snotty coons
The task of doling out the petticoats and the pantaloons.
the spinster
doling out
her advice on love
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Taped-together mystery
Closeted cacophony
Doling out your sunshine
Like it’s half time
And you’re half mine
Your countenance, it haunts my dreams
Why does kindness feel so strange?
Flip me inside out
Clear my eyes
Turn my world upside down
And pierce my amnesia
Tear the veil from my mind
Shake me out from all the lies
Melt the fear when it resists
So my will succeeds from this
Rescue me
From my own worst enemy
I should have ignored the golden deacon
Promising smiles and freedom from hunger
Said ‘No’ to egg sandwiches and bacon
Delicious smell on fingers does linger
The perfect salty, crispy golden fries
With preservatives, chemicals galore
Cannot cook like them in a million tries
Kids don’t like home cooked flavor anymore.
Charming kids with boxes of happy meals
Filing tummies with empty calories
Doling out food that tricks, harms and congeals
I have no words for their wicked glory
“Should’ve said no”, I reflect with sadness
As kids drag me under hills of madness.
Written 05/18/2016
A poem about our addiction to McDonalds and other fast food restaurants
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