What sort of beast
is made with yeast?
That kind of critter
is called an apple fritter.
So Instagram is a sham
Everyone seems smitten
With posts about a kitten
Or hosts who hate Britain
Or boasts so badly written
Toasts flam & are all bitten
Goddam is just like spam
Famalam use as a babysitter
Wham bam for any dimwitter
Won’t scram will be a big hitter
Instagram is just glam glitter
Oh please look at me vanity
Narcissist wheeze is insanity
Tease with another profanity
Disease crippling all humanity
Pedants on pews lives fritter
Algorithm queues like twitter
Bottom feeder ruse you critter
Needier travesty tapestry knitter
Greedier fuse lit & now shi*ter
Seedier impropriety just litter
Social media a society splitter
Notoriety trolls scrolls flitter
Anxiety but folks will still titter
Piety for botox you’ll be fitter
Ham it up cash cow AI lie spitter
Kowtow get no views so just bitter
Kapow a scam not some Ashram
Stop cropped photoshopped slop
They cram in a half baked pitta
Instagram is bust and just a sham
There great treasure lies,
but with it your very soul...
to fritter away!
Look into the eyes,
of all the people you've loved...
there you'll find your life!
Miracles exist,
when great love refuses to...
acknowledge the end!
All those things you love,
one day you will lose them all...
to see what matters!
You know where to go,
and who will be there waiting...
for their wayward son!
This is the saga of Veronica Vole
Who committed the perfect crime.
She murdered three lovers,
But not all at once,
She did 'em in one at a time.
The first was a lemur,
A two-timing schemer,
Who seduced all thirteen of her nieces.
Every female enticed him,
So she sliced him and diced him,
Then stir-fried and ate all the pieces.
The second, a lobster,
Was also a mobster
Who threatened her once with a putter.
So she got him alone,
Then boiled him well done,
And had him for lunch with drawn butter.
The third was a vulture,
Devoid of all culture,
Whose name, she remembers, was Vince.
He was planning to eat her
After he bet her,
So she tased him in self-defense.
In a big pot she tucked him,
Then scalded and plucked him
And served him "en casserole"
To her fourth beau, a critter,
Who'll make a good fritter,
She thinks as she spoons out his food.
'cause though she doesn't tend
To have good taste in men,
She does tend to like men who taste good.
Ms. Vole is not a siren or a femme fatale,
The kind of dame who'd tell a guy to take a hike.
At heart she is simply a sweet-natured gal
Who never met a man she didn't like.
A catalogue came in the mail
Of places I could visit,
Descriptions of the journeys
Both exotic and exquisite.
The trips were educational,
For travel and for learning,
With some possible connections
To new friends upon returning.
The itineraries beckoned –
Every country you’d consider
If you had the savings ready
And the time that you could fritter.
So I thumbed through all the pages
Of the places for exploring,
But for now, my home has more appeal
Than anyplace for touring.
What is this strange sensation?
I can't focus on the day.
My mind is in a tailspin,
And I fritter the hours away.
Breathlessly, I gasp for air.
My fingers and toes are numb.
Temptation chills my bones.
What more will I succumb?
Balanced on a razor's edge,
I teeter on the cusp of doom.
No mercy for my ravaged heart,
Each time you walk into the room.
I had to be much bitter,
Sure of the two The Fitter...
Away hours he'd fritter
On some spot steady sitter,
Never chats ends with Rita,
Engulfed in things that glitter
Fears of what in me bitter
I could betray as a hitter,
Peter dropping like litter
And never picking him up
An "I shan't - have - again pup"
So, its a lucky Peter,
For whom things have been neater.
I fritter my time away as I sat on a bench.
In front of me was a large pond with an alcove
Where three upside dolphins spout water
To keep the pond full of green filtered liquid.
The water trickle reminds me of the sound of silence.
But silence all around there was none; for hear
Red Bunting, plovers and others fly here and there.
Whilst in the shallow part of the pond, ducks waddle along.
Fascinated I admire the lotus plants in the water
As yellow and red flowers adorn the flat green leaves.
Food is abundant since flies, dragonflies and insects
Provide the animal kingdom with plenty to eat.
It was a warm evening and soon all went to rest
I soon felt drowsy as the trickle of water was so melodious.
But light sleep was not for me it seems as if a shadow fell on me.
I woke as her lips brushed softly on my own. I was full of glee.
Kamara’s a chameleon
At full, wan face beams halcyon
Morphing ocean’s jet to silver
Aquatic waves in praise, glitter ~
Kamara is night’s magician
A sliver scooping attention
Reaching forth, makes ocean shiver
Adoring waves in foam, fritter ~
Kamara’s a swirling dancer
A sky quarter-turning prancer
Magic skirt lifts ocean’s quiver
Ardent waves raise starry flitters ~
Kamara’s seawater’s lover
A ghost yearning liquid’s cover,
rills as an argent river
Aquatic waves in praise, glitter ~
(9/7/2022)
An old man who looked somewhat young
But after he had a song sung
Held tightly to his right lung
And to a nearby chair clung …
An Old Man who now truly looked it:
Blotches on a weak skin poorly lit;
He had many times dared a twitter
And in his lungs they proved a hitter …
Then, why wouldn’t he look much bitter
And accept that he did away an hour fritter
“Christ! The Goodwill Cigarettes at me flung”!
He’d henceforth be dodging them like dung;
In the spirit of a cigarette-smoking musician
Not wishing an early visit to a physician.
we fritter it away
we play with time
as if it were a toy
when deep inside
we really
do know better
each passing day
a forlorn longing
for what could have been
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~THE TIME WE ARE GIVEN~ 2023
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
The by-nature amiable Peter
Is now inconsolably bitter:
At a filling station, a protesting sitter
After his supplied mere one liter
For this vulgarly insulting pump attendant Rita
And threatening obscenities much fitter…
But smiling Rita didn’t away words fritter
Her sagacious silence proving the better hitter
And smoldering Peter more reasons are given to grow heady,
His long taut nerves refusing to steady:
For the ugliest fight seemingly ready,
His teeth plus his claws signaling the Deadly;
Whomever he ends up dismembering, deservedly
For what it’s worth, this day’s for earth
And ways we can protect it,
For all the harm we humans do
Is proof we don’t respect it.
The litter that we fritter
Often ends up in the ocean
Killing those who live below to set
Diminishment in motion.
And global warming is transforming
Habitats with features
That melt or disappear, thus harming
All the native creatures.
It’s time to act because, in fact,
The future’s looking frightful.
The world for our descendants
May be, sadly, less delightful.
recognition that cause of agitation is stagnation
fear of freedom keeps us in ego fetters bound
resonation with love offers instant liberation
desires birth thoughts as cause and effect
manifesting our here and now earth life reality
why blame destiny if quality of desires be suspect
conditioned to believe we are merely mind body
we fritter away our life in pursuits self-serving
animal urges fuelling thought forms shoddy
in our dying moments we feel deep remorse
realising that love alone real which we stifled
contemplating thus we yet shift not our course
knowing that joy eternal not in domain ephemeral
we yet strangely still choose to indulge therein
instead of reclaiming our divinity eternal
head and heart misaligned we suffer
melded with throb of love we are aglow
why then oh hermit do we choose stupor
silence and stillness unveils bliss magnetism
whilst thought spirals contract our being
illusionary are ego spawned chasms
awareness immediate and intimate
flowing with each heartbeat and breath
if we but vaporise lower mind in stillness sedate
16-April-2021
The Last Donut Temptation
David J Walker
A thousand donut shops
Greet me on the street
I see them on the way
To anyone I meet
I smell their frier frying
I can tell their bakers bake
I see their cream puffs creaming
I see the cinnamon shake
I know their glazers glaze
Their long johns twist and swirl
My eyes glass in a daze
As I watch their cruller curl
I can taste the fine white powder
Shaken on the top
Of every sprinkled donut
Every chocolate drop
It makes me twitch and twitter
If I am in the store
And a fresh hot apple fritter
Tells me I need just one more
I plead for divine intervention
A pray sincere and quiet
Save me from temptation
And this stupid cursed diet
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