Why is it such a big deal to be an avaricious & pernicious alligator and just steal from every creator use all our data and turn even the meek & mild into a wild hater...
"How do we stop the lavatorial plop plop of AI slop
Cull the new crop an arch oligarch march to the top
No behavioural fop to an algorithm making you strop
Don’t be a sop to a pack who hijack a stack on the hop
Pander to your dander by knowing how you do shop
When you gander…. propaganda & slander they drop
This laboratory of hateful oratory is what we all cop
Cohorts sport.. escorts all sorts.. come on chop chop
All about the economy give woke folks a lobotomy op
Forgotten besotten rotten dot com bubble did pop
Impropriety no jobs swap entirety of society will flop
Social media greedier needier seedier stronger gallop
So how do we stay dry of sh*t from on high this AI slop
To stop bottom feeder sly lie then no longer be the mop"
Busy bee;
What would be,
Will so be.
Lazy fop;
Seems to drop...
But goes top.
Only God-
When trials plod,
Knows the odd.
He was a fop, a weirdy cat, a popinjay
foolish, ridiculous, cheeky and brash
we landed on a big secret one day
he can be bought off with a bit of cash
at family events, he annoys others
paid to leave us alone by me and my brothers.
Why isn’t you dad coming around? Asked our mother.
“I have no idea,” lied one of my brothers.
He was a fop, a fool, a popinjay
Man-about-town, too cute and gay
A fashion plate, a cavalier blade
His arrogance riveled an oak’s tree shade
The devil’s dry fields
dirt farm, not much yields
damn sun
one forlorn tree shields
Texas battlefields
the one
recline that appeals
low water reveals
not done
no reprieve day’s sun
no wind, land barren
poor crop
windmill slow to run
water still and dun
well drop
worn clothes overdone
unbleached and homespun
no fop
dry, dingy sweatshop
broken fence post prop
damn sun
blind heat nonstop
a silent eavesdrop
poor crop
bleeding fingers mop
hellish spinning top
Grandma
This hand, Time's, extends
As gift-giver
Be quick, each golden chance
To snatch from out.
Of Love's butterfly-wing
Left in no doubt!
Heeding, by what blows
Lifelong across
For Change. Coldly unswayed
By pleas to stop.
Her late bloomer's! Come, gone
Whom flapped a fop.
Now he’s going for a treatment
That might swallow much liniment
And lick up copious supplement ;
About this, no long argument …
Watching was I Sir Cecil hop,
Not once, not twice, in real pain stop,
His discharging sweat sadly mop
And his injured feet sometimes drop;
All these in the next street flop,
A watcher to pity The Fop
And arrange A Medic on Top…
And there was to be one stop
To curiously look at some crop
Before in the rain a dared bop,
As though briefly rung Jackson’s Pop…
Cecil to Patients The Cynic
I saw just head for a clinic.
He was a dandy, a coxcomb, a fop.
Fashionable without one inch of slop.
But when undressed
was not caressed
Genital area horrible mop
My lawyer's a liar
my doctor's a quack
As for my dentist
I'll never go back
My accountant's a fop
my maid is a crook
I'll never replace the
jewelry she took
My lawn guy is lame
and the mailman's a dame
My favorite restaurant just closed
no more fries with tree toads
It's hard to get help these days
You just can't trust folks
with rings in their nose
when they're not snortin' coke
I guess I've no choice
I'll do things all by myself
'Cos when my wife heard my plan
she eloped with our elf
Joy! Joy! of all the honors I have earned
In a lifetime of trysts, mazes, and twists
None have I so much relished, indeed,
As topping one of Poetry Soup’s lists!
I only wish they would send a certificate
I feel like my soul would be duly kissed,
My head swells with pride, such renown,
If I wrote music, I’d feel like Franz Lizst!
I know some are eat up with jealousy --
Somewhere down there in the foggy mist,
But there is always room at the top
And someday, surely, you’ll make a list.
I hope you have figured out, by now, I jest.
I would write poetry if I never saw my name
Writing, my tongue firmly planted in cheek,
I would be a fop to write poetry for fame!
written December 23, 2021
[inspired by a recent poem
by a Poetry Soup poet!]
#33 on the Month's Best Poems List
January, 2022
Let there be no shame in a struggle to the top
For everyone who is achieving is not being a fop,
But expending the effort to be the best they can
It means climbing further upward again and again.
Do not be jealous of those at the top of the list
For they had goals you may’ve, heretofore, missed,
Consider them excellent examples of fortitude
And do not upon their fine successes intrude.
Congratulate and encourage those on the ladder
Above or below you, it really doesn’t matter,
Everyone reaches the summit at his or her own pace
What’s really important is doing so with verve and grace.
Written December 1, 2021
So, why didn’t you stop
After seeing a red-eyed cop
You know could ask you to hurriedly drop
And have you childishly begin to hop
Or ludicrously bop
To still hard blows wire to your face while on top
And angrier, like gilled corn, pop!
A prelude to making you some grimy floor mop
Or in a nearby farm start planting a crop,
Retaining this over coat that does make you a fop?
Could you please just take a bit off the top?
I stare at this cardinal, hoping he’ll stop.
But surely there is a bird barber shop.
Yes, but they never give me a good chop.
Afraid I would be an enormous flop,
Oh, come on! He says with a little hop.
I will sweep your kitchen and even mop.
Decide to give me a teensy buzz crop.
Thank you so much says the cardinal with slop
I’ll sing your praises to firebird and cop.
Then with a giant cute wiggle and bebop,
He flew straight into the air with a pop.
So all of that talk about wanting to mop
Was a conniving way to get me to stop
Pick up the scissors and give him a crop.
He is a cad, a scoundrel, a fop!
Blazing hot
Blistering my skin
Can’t tell you where I’m going
I can only tell you where I’ve been.
I’ve been in green meadows
On a cool crisp morn
In a hospital near my wife
When our first child was born.
I’ve been to the bar with friends
To get drunk and maybe get in a fight
That’s just normal behavior
For a small town Saturday night!
I’ve been in love once or twice
Before I grew up
My favorite birthday present ever
Was a new little pup.
I’ve been to a high school dance
With my clumsy two left feet
And at that very dance
Is where my wife and I did meet.
I’ve been out on the lake
Fishing with my dad
And at that time in my life
Never appreciating all that we had.
I’ve been to boot camp
With all of the other new guys
I wonder where they are?
Or did they tell me a bunch of lies?
I’ve got to keep going
I need to fill my canteen
There’s nothing but sand everywhere
Sand and sun are all I’ve seen.
I’m so parched…I can barely move
Shap…feet are…hum fall
My arm…pur soi nop
Fop in siz…hot metal.
Pom bo…a pistol…lam bi
Tum…too weak to…
Without values life may whop
And you cannot even yawp
As the destiny may strop
A valueless person nonstop.
If your values from life lop
It is zilch and make you fop –
Fop – a man with concern atop
For dress than character prop.
Without values we may drop;
Cannot stand or walk; sit or hop.
So respect values that clearly mop
All bad, illicit or forbidden crop.
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