Bankers are w**kers so smug
Treat as all like we are a mug
Rinse & repeat they just shrug
Your grave we've already dug
Elite cheat still snug as a bug
Deniers bullies & liars..a thug
Try to stay afloat.. on we chug
Gloat off with our stuff they lug
So rash our stash they will hug
So brash cash is their only drug
Tug from under our feet the rug
Cruel with one rule pull the plug
It forever holds its flavor
One is all you’ll ever need
One can savor it for later
Or share it with a lover
Your brother if you’re onto that
A friend who’s a bestie
Or a stranger who’s in need
I’ve repurposed a pill box
To dispense my favorite flavor of the day
It will never disintegrate
And is guaranteed
Or your money back
If this gum just happened
To fall into the ocean
It would surely float
Be gobbled up by some random fish
Or get caught up
In the net of a fishing boat
And the Captain will surely gloat,
“Yum, cherry apple red.”
But like most trash
Gum ends up in the dump
Where it remains forever flavorful
For the ants and bums
Who rummage for just one
Tangerine tan man masterplan such chumps
Plumps to rain down bombs on Iranian clumps
Logic stumps as facts and pacts again dumps
Throat lumps as fossil fool fuel prices jumps
Getting trumped and thumped at the pumps
Oil barons gloat gazumps.. economy slumps
No cargo due to embargo everything flumps
Even a MAGA fan is now down in the dumps
Grumps got the hump with Mar a Lago frumps
Thicker than Forrest Gump deadlier than mumps
You till the land;
Nose stinks of sand.
You water throat;
Tum suffers gloat.
Like no difference;
Hope paints absence.
Like dreaming soil;
Seedlings seem spoil.
Cum every phase;
Fruits count on days...
Cum every need;
Mouths wish to feed...
Those that till..., stay!
Those for fruits..., stray!
LOVE DERAILED
Whose unscathed heart has dared to love,
for to love is to feel the pain.
Is it true love that hurts not the heart,
or just two passing trains?
In the best of times, dinner and wine,
when love feels like it shoud.
Dither and doubt linger about.
That dirt makes it hurt so good.
Love isn't fair, tis all but a dare,
arrogant, selfish, obtuse.
The winners gloat only in the grave
losers go back to the caboose.
Old lines and hard times denigrate the steel
making the cars woble and sway.
Even riding the smoothest rail,
clickety clack clickety clack, all day.
Left at the station, the end of the line,
Infatuation's purple heart.
The grotesque beauty of attraction
tis the angst of most great art.
When pain's embraced you've lost the race,
there is nothing left to see.
Bought and paid for, gelded and roped
like voluntary slavery.
If on romance you've take the chance,
I wish you the very best.
End of the line of the honeymoon train
It's all down hill for the rest.
Dear Vessel of Life,
Let your inner child be free
but first you must see
If your inner child comes to be
They will be just like you and me
Am I in a place they can be free
Or have I created an endless sea
If I start to gloat
They struggle to float
If I am filled with shame
They will certainly feel the same
They will try to swim
But our waves will beat them from within.
Pour out onto this earth
A clear and happy child birth
For the pain we hold so near
Will be that our children fear
Oh dearest child of mine
give me a sign
That you are strong and free
and I will make you come to be.
an entry for Constance LaFrance's contest
Write a Beautiful Rubaiyat Poem
Make a discovery, well-worth your time!
Compare instant coffee to Starbuck's prime,
I-Hop's waffles to those frozen en bloc.
Voila! steel cut oats! makes hunger bells chime.
Use the stove to boil some salt water stock;
turn it down low and pile oats in the crock.
(what’s half an hour? I've a paper to read.)
I have retired and I don't watch the clock.
Lots of brown sugar and butter you'll need,
takes thirty minutes to coddle this feed.
Add whatever, the next verse gives my notes.
Steel-cut oats will get breakfast up to speed.
Include raisins which drift like little boats
in the sugary-rich, buttery moat.
For a breakfast or any meal sublime
include nuts. Then just grab a spoon and gloat.
Demon-goat:
For naughty kids who gloat;
Kris Kringle employs his dark shadow.
Beastly figure appears; sharp teeth.. fear to bestow.
Misbehaved children hide, their fate, they do not know..
Good children used their moral compass-
Avoids evil malice-
Feared: Krampus
* 'A Trois-par-Huit for December' Poetry Contest
* Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
* Entered on: 12/11/2025
Fans in stands & beds with heads in their hands
Bazball disbands shredded into dreaded strands
Boycott this lot don't give a jot no one understands
Piss poor bores ignore turnstile roar in hostile lands
Tanned Aussie class brass band was hardly bland
Yelping Stokes blokes giving them a helping hand
Canned the cool fool Bazball brand must be banned
Ivory tower power zen that Baz Bob and Ben wield
Defective ploys annoys but from noise boys shield
What did planning spanning 4 years actually yield
Smote gloat all the chatting not like 86 and Gatting
Bleak Ben does ken Oz not a den for weak men
Joe standing sentry his century show a footnote
For it does seem this time right quote right team
As a hack with that knack way back once wrote
Can't Bat.......Can't bowl ....Can't field!
Written: November 05, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Hilo Poet
****************************
He ruled with a rakish grin ... a slack scythe in his sanguine fist—
A pharaoh of spurious gloat ... redolent of lard and treacle,
His laws ratified in rapture ... festooned the sacred with spit.
A seraglio of skeuomorphs ... hailed his wondrous fashion sense—
The riparian fields sank ... in soaked squalor and dysania,
He wore a nimbus of stink ... a stygian sherpa to dire fate.
In his sesquipedalian bragging ... the soul of land grew slack—
Each boast is a blur, each law ... a grieving gasp of suction,
Even the seraphic ibis flinched ... its wings dimmed by his shadow.
With tales of Siamese stars and stew ... he won over the jury—
Though the slack-jawed and gaunt group ... gnawed on serendipity bones,
There was no spark ... just the sizzle of sand in a dying sun.
Now his tomb lies amid a cold dune ... decked with dysenteric myths—
A janiform relic of zeitgeist and treason ... stripped of all zest,
The sovereign ruin ... no ripple, no ravel, no rove of resile.
I get to brag, I have to gloat
loving the microphone on my remote
I now press it and tell it what to do
before this I stared, and had no clue
the other buttons do not help me in any way; a con
I used to stand around, begging my TV to come on
I give the remote microphones a little command
confident I will be able to travel to TV land
Met an eager charming panhandler today
His smile was unusually bright and gay
Hi he said with friendly eyes and big smile
I was on a jog, had gone about a mile
Hi yourself I sang out in a voice that rivaled his
He looked pleased, not understanding my tone or biz
Do you have some extra change? He asked me
I laughed and giggled and slapped one knee
Extra change. What does that mean? I asked
His face was not as Pollyanna-smiling-masked
Money you don’t need, dollars will do too
His expression was innocent, his eyes bright blue
A buck or five, twenty would be welcome and plenty
I laughed, amused tears at this begging bold ninny
These tears ran down my face and fell off my blouse
I could use your spare twenties, I told this blatant louse.
You are asking me for money? He said.
His eyes nearly leapt out of his head
If you don’t have a twenty, a hundred would do I replied.
The panhandler walked off, ignoring my gloat of pride.
Take your power women, and use it for good.
Remember the times that we suffered with no path to grow.
They made us work for free, and kill our children by abortion and lack of money to give birth.
They made us choose life or death, by failing to give us choices.
We needed free education, free universal daycare from birth forward, free support to help us grow.
They tricked us with words of love, yet they gloat when they tell others, they have no wife or children or lover.
They used us and sometimes abused us with tricks of love.
Sometimes they raped us, and laughed and failed to admit they put us on a negative life path.
Making our life trajectory become sad and depressed.
Remember the power within yourself, hold it close and remember the lost and the weak as you grow.
Faces may hide, the truth shall never go away,
No veil of lies can cover the light of right.
Gold can gloat but darkness gets in,
Because inside, the spirit shows its true power.
Evil, masked in false smiles, spreads its vilest odor,
And every bend in the road goodness has a mask.
Where accusations vent innocence is lost,
But lies can’t endure in dark shadows they protect.
A sifting breeze will shed the rest of everything,
Show their faces that used to live in the dark
Sleeper in the warren of the heart and whatever lies,
Truth will leave its imprint irrespective of the timelines.
So fear not
'If my poem touched your heart, please leave a comment ??”
or
“Your feedback is precious to me - please let me know how you liked it"
In battle little boys frantic
Shared their quotes with the Atlantic
So we can all note
About death they’d gloat
And Signal decay gigantic
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