A foul stray-dog stink and a head smooth and pink,
A mouth full of razor sharp fangs
A gloss headed monster? The long-missing link?
He dines upon beast-hunter gangs
Its arms double jointed, its ears they are pointed
With hair sprouting downward from there
A long snout in place on his hair covered face
Means your blood he can smell in the air
He’ll sneak with such stealth which is bad for your health
For if you don’t spot him you’re dead
A few see him coming and make their escape
When the moon reflects off of his head
I’ve seen it in zombies and sometimes in ghouls
I think there’s been vampires as well
I once wrote a novel about this mad beast
My publisher said, “It won’t sell.”
He told me, “I’m sorry, I don’t like the story,
It’s silly, I can’t applaud this…”
But what he called ‘silly’ was my pride and joy…
‘The Werewolf With Male Pattern Baldness.’
Bet is bandy
Hair quite sandy
Thin and tall
Nose too small
Ears stick out
Lips that pout
Chin is pointed
Double-jointed
Arms are long
Hands too strong
Teeth all bad
Bet's so sad
His disposition sweet and sour
Laden personality stuck by the hour
A water bearer an Aquarius
Hot pink, missing link
An unusual unconstitutional cunning consumer man
Just buying time crossing righteousness line
Doused in the oils at the fragrances of sinner strands
Adjust how can he stand
He needs to be reprimand
Snow day in the middle of summer
Spotlight shadows in the bright
Double jointed Gemini
Double piercing blinking eyes
And unusual unconstitutional cunning consumer man
Just buying time crossing righteousness line
Dressed in a suit of unrighteousness in flaming pants
Missing Link hot pink
Sinner man happen stands
11/21/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
when she saw letter
said someone stole her sweater
which would upset her
to control sanity
God herded up humanity
cleaned cluttered vanity
for better or worse
God did put poems in my purse
helped me write this verse
God helped bare the strain
put many poems in my brain
some were found in Spain
God has been my friend
message to me He did send
save from sin intend
God was a recorder
must build a better border
accepted His order
never anointed
by God a priest appointed
was double jointed
God went room to room
Swept out each one with His broom
made us bride and groom
Sung to the hymn of “The yellow rose of Texas”
I was cursing down the road
tired and all a lone
just a passing through ole` Oklahome
So I shut down and pulled in-
to this old run down joint
I went in through the back door
and I got myself a beer
I was sitting at the bar feeling mighty tired
When I noticed this GOGO dancer looking right at me
She came up to greet me, and said her name was Bee
Well, my that GOGO dancer she sure looked good to me
She looked to be bread in ole` Kentucky
But just a crumb down here
She’s knocked kneed double jointed
with a cauliflowered ear.
She smokes them white owl stogies
and drinks them rum and sodies
I see her habits are quite brutal
in bed she’ll be Apple strudel
Well now that GOGO dancer she looks good to me….
I think it’s best time for leaving
Or in the morning I’ll be a grieving
MY O MY THAT GOGO DANCER
SURE DID LOOK GOOD TO ME!!!!!!!
I try not to be
that boring elder, speaking
only of ”back then”
until there is a rolling of the eyes
and whispers
“There she goes again.”
With so few left
to share the memories
of those dear folks of slight renown,
they will be lost to
time and mystery
unless I write them down.
I regret the unasked questions
of the one grandma left alive
for me to love and know.
I could have listened to her stories
and retold to my children
tales of the long ago.
Names written in
the family Bible
are all we know of some
of these long gone ancestors.
What traits of his came down to me?
My double jointed thumb?
So this is why my poems
and narratives
are mostly written of the past.
I am trying to preserve
family history and
make memories that last.
4/26/11
For Paula's contest "When"
A solitary sandpiper picks his path
Three - four maybe a score
Find them on any sandy shore
Marvelous kaleidoscope of mobility
Double jointed tooth pick legs
Old time movies jerk ahead
Staccato motion, roaming and roving
Pointed beak pecks at sand
As if going treasure troving
So intent upon the chore
Hopping over grounded wave
Flap and fly three feet away
Running, racing rain or shine
Like a cycle rider in a line
Skip, leap, nary a peep,
Always hunting, peck and bob.
This no eight to five job.
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