They have zero charisma
Republicans give off no sparks
Richard Nixon, so woeful wooden
He was carved from Noah’s Ark
Ike and Mamie, a pair so excruciatingly dull
They spelled ‘live action’ – L U L L
And next to JFK’s wife, Jacqeline
Mamie was a dime-store mannequin
Fess up, GOP, you’re a party of Mitch McConnells
Liven up, like that Democrat clown ~ Ronald McDonald
How Painful
Can Repair
Possibly Be?
If It’s So
Rewarding:
Adaptability?
Adapt To
Repair...
Excruciatingly:
Free.
-Gray Squirrel
04-09-2026
Written: January 10, 2025
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wenches of Whimsy and Woe
In the world of the fiddled gruntingly,
where micturitions dance,
and arty yawning plurdled gabbleblotchits,
lurgid bees buzz with mordacious glee.
Eardges justle and grumble,
festering infectious organ squealers,
gnawing at the edges excruciatingly,
Intergalactic highways scream,
echoing in their lavish friars.
Gandersalps gleam in the grim groggy gloom
graceful gliding gallant swarupincrafts majestically soar
whoop, wail, wassail wondrous rowan wood
cormulent chitchat flickers like flames
Elevate the mundane,
let foolishness dissolve into the ether,
In the charm of nostalgia, we find the replevy abyss,
Paraprosdokian twists lift us higher.
Triskaidekaphobia slumbers wrapped in jest.
Schadenfreude influences us as
katabatic whispers from the abyss fade away
callipygian figures emerge,
bringing moments of unexpected joy.
Vessels overflowing with dreams,
countehsee the orbs and clusters
while Guinevere gazes, sly and wise,
clipshank the past, whitebootz to come
Here as we meander in whimsical unfolding
one hundred degree heat
confining and oppressive
humidity is holding me back
I feel tired and uncomfortable
traveling nowhere
because I do not want to get into a hot car
sitting on excruciatingly painful leather seats
driving in traffic with others who are uncomfortable
confined and oppressed, because this is the Midwest
and it is August, and humidity is killing us
I loved you.
I really did.
My poetry is about you
Your face so neatly carved into my brain I can draw you from memory.
You were the first to know how I felt
How you tugged at my heartstrings in a way so excruciatingly painful
I saw you through my rose coloured lenses and gulped down painkillers forgetting that you ever pained me.
You lead me on like one of your mindless pets
I would have died for you
If you told me you wanted them dead they'd be dead
If you told me you wanted me dead my last words would be yes sir.
I want to break from your grasp
Although the words you speak bring too much comfort
The way you look at me
The wonder in your eyes as if you never have seen my suffering or the way one could trip over themselves and sacrifice themselves as I for something like you
I scavenge for the love you once gave me
Trinkets that I keep in a box and at the bottom of my bag
Your love is a drug
My stash low
I crave for every bit of love you give me
It's a bad influence
My memory blurry
You make me sick.
Donning sable spots on buff hearts:
With all the resolve an’ brutality
They pursue their prey;
Stopping at nothing but the
Quarry’s final gasp for a breath
They’re the pillaging African wild dogs:
So unflagging in the heart an’ rigid on feet
The ultimate hecklers of
He who stitches for others,
The one who gets lost on the way
They’re the invincible African wild dogs:
In deadly packs an’ persistent in manner
They grip their prey an’ rip it apart -
Preferring the budding an’ the hapless
That’s how they are; ferocious!
The resolute African wild dogs:
Heartless an’ inexorable, though
Oft their kill in no time they devour whole
Or a hunk excruciatingly torn off alive
Such ruthlessly merciless, so they are!
The cold-heart’d African wild dogs:
A time pinn’d down with an ample boulder
Or other piece with an equally sound weight
For now, the frenzy snappings an’ snarling
Render fleeting peace in the mottled hearts of theirs
Devouring an’ feasting like they do
On the now putrefying sworn enemy!
Mute, no voice to roar
Blind, no eyes to scan
Silence streaking skies
What is TRUTH to man
Waters rage and flood
Fires ignite and burn
Hurricanes rip and tear
Yet humanity will not learn
Power lines down
Sewage in the streets
Without comfort
Where like minds meet
Bloody rituals riot
Babies on the block
Great shakings of sorrow
Makes flesh rock
Meaning is futile
Purpose is pompous, vain
Living in process
Makes the lucid, insane
Wondering about happenings
No step emerges from the void
Not depressed or hopeless
Just excruciatingly annoyed
Written by Trudy Schrader on 10-05-2022
The hallowed hollow tree in October was excruciatingly alive.
There were apartments that numbered more than twenty-five.
There were owls and squirrels, rabbits, voles, and moles too.
Dressed in Halloween garb, challenging each duo to a boo.
Elaborate costumes were put on the young and the old.
Some were dressed subtly, others outrageously bold.
Dancing and partying went on in the hallowed tree tonight.
The tree was as happy as it had ever been on an October night.
There is a gentleman that I am acquainted with.
He grins, but it is not seen in his eyes
He chuckles, but it is only a lovely lie
He speaks but conceals something inside
He sings, but his quiet screams are audible
He draws but has no one to console him
He writes, yet it never alleviates his life's sorrow
He adores, yet his thighs are scarred.
He survives, but all he wants is death
He merely absorbs the ache, which is excruciatingly bitter
And I take a step back from the mirror
3TH PLACE CONTEST WINNER
Written: April 25, 2022
Near Death Experience Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
I no longer listen to certain songs that remind me of you
If I do my brain becomes like white grapes in a wine press
the juice seeping out of my eyes
leaving the pomace sloshing within my skull
fertilizing seeds of pernicious thoughts and feelings
that soon sprout into an invasive infestation
of intransigent vines winding their way
into every crack and crevice
taking root throughout my essence
excruciatingly painful to pull
only releasing their hold after extraordinary effort
It would be far easier to leave them be
They’re quite pretty actually but they would weaken
the mortar holding me together causing it to crumble
I don’t have the energy anymore
to rebuild myself brick by brick as I’ve done before
There is silence where once was the ever present
sound of singing, the plinking of pianos
the strumming of guitar strings, the beat of bass drums
all blending together into audible art
There is only the music within me
The steady metronome of my heart
Semi sweet but your rough is just right,
as I turn to you holding that strawberry;
Dripping with romance you whisper little morsels
in my ears,
it makes my lips quiver in anticipation
of your taste;
Those sugar filled kisses;
Candles bathe your smile in a soft glow
you melt me excruciatingly slow;
I can feel everything so bitter
come undone as you hold me in your arms ;
Released you and I are finally free to just be,
and believe in the magic of this love story;
You be my chocolate strawberries
dipped in romance,
I’ll be your Happily Ever After.
We watched a movie called "Nonperson", so sad
About a nobody from Nowheresville, so dumb
The show was so excruciatingly bad
Afterward, we drove through the local homeless slum
Then we waded through the coldest stream, so wet
And lay upon the greenest grass, so nice
Then Mary said - we better not forget
so we ran to the store and bought a bag of ice
This was a weekend, a real nonevent
We had a splendid time, that's the honest truth
We felt sorry for the people living in their tents
So we handed out doughnuts to slake their sweet tooth
Somewhere in the world there is much pain and strife
Who knows what will happen next in this thing called life
I'm in a dark place; there's no light or hope,
happiness is a fleeting moment in time.
I'm in pain, both physical and emotional,
there is no cure, no refuge, and no explanation;
only a daunting, depressive darkness.
I wear a practiced smile to camouflage my pain;
wrestling with my invisible demons.
Seeing others happy is paramount to torture,
for I've never been pain-free;
it's always been a part of my life,
and thoughts of suicide fester in my mind.
I've tried; God knows how hard I've tried,
but I can't deal with the pain; I just can't!
Life lost its appeal, levying a heavy toll
on my soul; death offers me relief.
Tears dribble down my face;
when I hear, "It can't be that bad."
It doesn't take courage to kill myself,
it takes courage not to.
In a flash, it could all be over;
no more pain, no more tears, no more me.
But I'm not a quitter!
And yet, no matter how strong I try to be,
this silent, invisible disease persists; it isn't in my head.
Yes! I've tried praying for a miracle!!!
I struggle with pain, mobility problems, and fatigue;
the fact is, autoimmune diseases, though rare,
are excruciatingly painful.
Savanna was on this earth eight years.
She stood up for her friends, danced ballet,
Jumped out of an airplane with her dad.
Her laugh was excruciatingly wonderful
Almost everyone who met her enjoyed something
She was an artist, a painter, a cartoonist, a story teller.
She left twenty-one first cousins to mourn her.
Cancer took her away from them two weeks before she turned nine.
We tell her stories at every family event, remembering the joy she brought us.
The only person who does not join in on these stories is Aunt Vee.
Aunt Vee was never married, does not like people, and despises Christmas.
We invite her, and she came begrudgingly, adding a bit of dour.
In ninety-two years, I do not think she had ever done one thing for anyone else.
I skipped her funeral, even though I was in town.
She was despicable to me, and to others.
My sister attended. There were three of them. One of them was the priest.
When your fingernails are excruciatingly dirty
filthy even
rather disgusting
it means one of these things:
you are a gardener
You understand and enjoy dirt therapy
Or you are one of those people
Who is dunked into a bathtub
once or twice a week wailing and screaming
Luckily I am both
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