Hard not to love Dylan Thomas’s tall tales
Each gloomy day may just tip those scales
Sends you off the rails when all else fails
Dilly dally schoolboys get cat of nine tails
Go doolally rally in the valley hard as nails
Don't cuss no faff or fuss for us Taff males
Knew along with a fair few Cymru crew's hue
Shared view that no where else has in spades
Cascades of so many gloriously grey shades
Dylan boozy villain mutters hip hop hooray
Gusts bluster beneath his sails on his travails
Trooping way this colour can't be kept at bay
Muster bulbous tinted voluptuous glinted bales
Proudly ride loudly in the night on his coattails
Very fond of merry vagabond's beyond the pales
Hail the true Withnail's escapades made in Wales
Don't harangue pang for meringue gang at play
Not a gimmick pray clouds don't go away hold sway
Rollick then frolic & fossick.. a limerick for any day
Outdoor foray adore bucolic score kaleidoscopic GREY
God will not sidle alongside an idol
Or will He sidle with the idle
God will not hang with the tongue harangue
Or listen to this world's slang
God will not accept a wrong Weltanschauung
God will suffer long, His judgements He won't prolong
God became a Child for those beguiled
God became The Tamer of those gone wild
God accepts no treason, only proper reason
God is the Reason for reason
God is The Word, there's no atheist's redaction
(Remember that you can't burn an abstraction)
God will oust any verbal joust
God has defeated Faust
God gives us a right to defend
The right that bare arms extend
Love to God Who is Your Neighbor
By extending love to your earthly neighbor
God is our Bower
God to the Third Power
God The Trinitarian Tower
Amen
MELIORISM
This world stings like the scorpion,
And I will not filter in her tears,
This I said because I’m a champion,
Only throwing jabs, it really wears!
Like the faeces of a chameleon,
She stinks in her odourless sheers,
Truly this world bites in oblivion.
And never to be seen in klaipeda _
The elysian sky has deceived me,
Leaving behind their propaganda;
This dark ominous mangles me...
The tenet of retronym in obscurity,
Why we can walk without security.
The quell for fairness may wither,
As we skulk in together!
The gargoyle mole of pains...
Hardship is loose and unfettered;
As we wallow in this sane oneiric,
That never sought for the kindred,
Of conflate moth of harangue...
The axiomatic mild of the youths,
The automatic bunkum in heroism,
The cosplay to this hilarious pains,
The syringe to my bitter whinge.
To saudade for the shadows of life,
A vain wait for meliorism!
When will it get back bitterly better?
What Is Woke?
Miracle Man
3/13/2023
Say social awareness don’t give me “woke”,
I’m not impressed with one’s use of slang.
Perpetuating it’s use has made it a joke,
politicians use this word to deliver harangue.
Some think it’s impressive spewing woke
and think that it makes them some big deal.
But they remain in my eyes a solitary spoke,
and a solitary spoke doesn’t make a wheel.
Prediction
A perfect weather system heading our way
Heavy rain for twenty-hours will stay
Ice and sleet will pass us by and hit the north
Snowfall for some but we don't have a choice
Sounds
Before the storm a silence and stillness, then
Sighing of the pines will slowly begin
Doves in their choir will fill the cold air
Crows busy cawing out their warnings fair
Sights
Gray sky seems to touch winter laden earth
Bare limbed trees shiver, squirrels eat dearth
Swaying of the pines in cold, damp air
Slight easterly breeze brings a different flare
Storm
Storm arrives hours later with a bang
Strong pouring rain, lightning and thunder harangue
Sleepy Chihuahua awakes with fright
Sleep eludes us most of the night
party line harangue
crowd quashes opposition
free speech, not so much
Preheat oven to extreme
beat whites with scream of anger
add cup of mixed nuts
when soft peaks develop, slowly add venom
when it is glossy, add ego, seethe for 20 minutes
Serving size: 1/2 of truth
Number of servings: millions
I looked in the paper, and guess what it said?
It read, "Panagiota is dead!
I quick turned on CNN.
News Alert! "Panagiota lost her head!"
Oh, I was more than mad!
So I went to Joe Scarborough on MSNBC.
He reported ever so gleefully..
"There is not,and never will a Panagiota be!
Don Lemon, Mr.Cool, just had a sip of water.
Then, burped and in a velvety, whisper uttered.
"Oh, Panagiota. Yes. She never mattered."
So why this rhyme, you ask?
It's time for the media to take off their masks.
Show themselves for who they are, be given a
check, shown the door and find other tasks.
I have never heard such lies from so many stations.
I can't stop the transfusion of lies drowning all the
nations.
I just know there is a God, to answer to.
And I am glad I am not any of these manipulators.
Their day is coming my friend. They willingly forgot
that God is bigger than any puny station.
And you bet, they will all have to pay one eternal due
in a fiery end.
So be your own best friend.
Be a stand-up person.
There is no glory nor eternal joy in a harangue of baseless
condemnations and allegations.
September 13. 2019
Will eternity have
a yin and a yang
Will the forces that govern
applaud and harangue
Will the blessings have value
if damnation moves on
Will it all even matter
—once tomorrow is gone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
I feel a chafing around you
With your coarse attitude
You're grotesque ego means nothing to me
You harangue in your hoarse tones
Anyone who you feel opposes you
I find you ignorant and arrogant in truth
Unctuous and obstreperous you be
Vacant of beauty manifesting all that's ugly
Yet through all of your toxicity
Know that I will be here for you
Should you seek to change your attitude
And discover your love and light
That resides deep inside of you
Beneath that darkness, anger and hate
And find the fortitude to eradicate
And wipe these negativities away.
I’m riding the subway (the 4)
Where you never know what is in store.
A character stood
Ranting loudly he should
Have a seat, which I tried to ignore.
His ravings got louder until
Someone rose to accede to his will.
Though he sat with a plop
His harangue didn’t stop
And we passengers’d all had our fill.
But the woman who sat to his right
Started cursing with all of her might,
Saying either he’d quit
Or she’d have such a fit
That she’d slice him to bits in a fight.
A Samaritan did intercede
So we never saw anyone bleed.
When the doors opened wide
He stepped quickly outside
With the ranter, a very cool deed.
The female, though, kept up her shtick;
Her anger was what made her tick.
I questioned the stars
Thinking, with all these cars,
Why was this one the one I did pick?
Will eternity have
a Yin and a Yang
Will the forces that govern
applaud and harangue
Will the blessings have value
if darkness moves on
Will it all even matter
—once the future is gone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Carefully coiffuring the etiquette garden of the cascading words
Trimming the elegant exuberant plethora of stumbling somnolent leaves
Happened upon an opulent slithering serpent and some bees
Hiding within the myriad of sublime transcendent trees
Shrieking in a shrill voice a cacophony was heard
And the shunned godly creature
Slithered serenely from the place of my obstreperous yells
And the words fell back into a peaceful tranquility and tune
Excusing the moments as serendipitous and absurd
But was harangue for no reason except tales of Slew (Foot)
And went about my business without any further adieu
Copyright
@Bonnie Gay Jennings, or Bonnie Jennings or Boondoggling with Bojenn @Wordpress 2013 to present 2016 ~
Visions Beyond the Horizon
The doctor incised the umbilical cord, the nurse held him by heel,
They waited; the baby cried not; the nurse nudged and he giggled;
The baby giggled again; new mom laughed; doctors just haggled;
The new age baby breathed normal; ancient medic annals to heal
Had no entries; baby crying on first breath norm, they had a ***** feel;
Like POTUS, medics threw up arms, helpless to his tantrum. Cuddled
By mom, he slept and giggled, never cried for milk. With heads muddled
They fiddled with the issue; he woke up giggling, laughing for family weal;
But it was strange, people thought it his harangue; he was deranged,
Some claimed. He crawled around sparring worries with laughing queries,
And it was strange, people thought. Their frowns chilled the entire loving bond,
And in expiation the mom showed the cradle, as they stood like dolls disarranged
In Walmart malls, waiting to be billed; the infant spoke, dispelling all their queries
And opened their minds; with closed eyes, they saw visions from horizons beyond!
Their population on the swell,
The local yokels just couldn't tell,
Why their isolated town called Bugaree,
Red dust and drought for all to see,
Was inundated by a city slicker hell.
You see,it was a radio man from 2CE
Using language bordering on thuggery,
Delivered such a terrible harangue,
Abusing listeners when they rang,
Had told everyone to go to buggery.
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