Hassled Poems

Keep me alive

In this winter, near the fire,
Weather killing me slowly,
And I maintain to live warm.

Show me no mercy, my love,
Just keep coming in mind,
So I am hassled by memories.

If it is my last of the breath,
Stay beneath in my heart,
That keeps hope, me to live.

No reason of my existence,
Then just make me dead,
Just by watering the fire.

Life

He look bit hassled
What is life worth living for
When all things puzzled.

Q-Tips

In charge of the museum store,
She was an ex-New Yorker.
Her hair was white, her glasses black
(Like me!) and yes, a talker.

She spoke of moving to the Cape
And though she missed the city,
She’d learned to love her lifestyle now,
Less hassled and less gritty.

In passing, she remarked about
Her other “Q-Tip” pals.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
She answered, “Older white-haired gals.

I guess we look like Q-Tips,
With our heads of snowy white.”
I laughed ‘cause I’m a Q-Tip, too
And somehow, that’s all right.

Gone To East Jesus

A big-headed dreamer, pockets full of hope
Say, that and five bucks gets you a cup of joe
Worn out Army boots and my Goodwill coat
Sky's overcast and it feels like snow

Rolling on good time, guitar by my side
I'm gone to East Jesus on a westbound ride

Left Mississippi, too many ghosts back home
So I headed out west chasing my next song
Got hassled in Houston by some local Joes
San Antonio's cool, I saw the Alamo

Rolling on good time, guitar by my side
I'm gone to East Jesus on a westbound ride

California's crazy, Sugarcane Sadie
Showed me a good time
That desert moon and those Dylan tunes
Still playing in my mind

In the middle of nowhere where the wind blows free
I think a while in Slab City might be good for me
Salvation Mountain like a beacon shown
The Word of God painted stone on stone

Rolling on good time, guitar by my side
I'm gone to East Jesus on a westbound ride
Rolling on good time, guitar by my side
I'm gone to East Jesus on a westbound ride

A big-headed dreamer, pockets full of hope
Say, that and five bucks gets you a pack of smokes
Worn out Army boots and my Goodwill coat
Sky's overcast and it feels like snow

©2018

Hitchcock

on my ride home 
from work i
witnessed
a crime
for sure
ly so
many
crows
were

flocking to
the city to
protest 
what 
was
to
be
a

banging
of bells and a
whistling of whistles
to keep them from roosting 
and pooping on people though
a stupid solution hatched to keep
them from coming but now in numbers

they refuse to
be hassled or
rousted by the
man and his
unfortunate
understand

ingly less
then real
ity but
morbid
ity of

the word
human
kind
in no

way
to say
they are

kind but in their mind for now
they have consecrated these

crows to become a murder

The Midnight Bell Tolls

Then comes the call of the witch named Kabbath,
That signals the start of All Hollow's Black Sabbath.
And, from the dark crypts and the blackest of holes;
Come the night creatures, as the Midnight Bell Tolls

Come Goblins and ghoulies, black creatures all hassled.
Come the fiends of the night that haunt the High Castle.
To the cemetery fields where the undead lay waiting
For the black orgy to begin their unholy mating.

Witches, black sorcerers, and warlocks all
Dance to the wind at this black magic ball.
Their music the cry of ten million lost souls;
All hither they come as the Midnight Bell Tolls.

All gathered at last, at this darkest of hours.
To wait for the sign of Satan's great power.
That'll send them in search all over the world,
To capture the souls of ye boys and ye girls.

So, let this be a warning this Halloween night
And pay heed to thy parents, they know what is right.
Though you search for sweet treats, wherever you stroll.
Be safe in your beds, when the Midnight Bell Tolls.

Taking Time Out

I don’t want to do anything today,

Don’t want to even try.

Just want to sit and do nothing

And watch the world go by.

Don’t want to be hassled or pestered,

Or questioned the reason why.

Just want to be still and quiet,

And watch the world go by.

Don’t want to be thinking and planning,

To be aiming low or high.

Just want to be lazy but content

And watch the world go by.

Tomorrow I’ll be back to normal,

The hands of the clock will fly....

But today just want to be left alone,

To watch the world go by.

The Panic

By Mark Miller © 12/09/2014

Divergent views across vile crest waves smile high the creeping crawl
Vacant recall behind will's fate corners awaits prodigy built city sprawls

Fearing furious memory's cradle under moons momentary falls
Departing sun drain dendrites dying beside pleasure land hotel

Pharmaceutical particles undermines wasted potential decay
Habitual filled dread remedy sealed bottle supply spent photocopy

Demented frozen posture detached paragons future parallax
Denatured entropy of unstable battlefront beacons fights happenstance

Enraged estrange movement frowns condition mingled disturbance,
Hassled hates impatient repression debased frames acquaintance-

Paranoia begins within kept crypt entombed from friends lovers bones 
Supernatural surprise wakes the panic front tantrum born alone

Breaths cold howl vexed of thought behind fury times disorder
Subliminal sequence reveals foggy haze guilt by nights no quarter

Adorn the love less feeling conceals feeble rabble blood loss stealth
Movements uncertain impel stellar selves

Postcard Memories

I have worked for a 
     postcard dealer 
  who has since retired from 
the hobby 
   Postcard shows are excellent for the 
nostalgic 
   So is some poetry 
  As a collector 
I have plenty of cards with 
    poems on them 
  They didn't cost much 
       As some rare postcards do 
Having sold articles about the hobby 
   I can walk with my head held high !!
Have not yet written anything 
   like Tolstoy yet 
But I a glad to live in America 
   not Russia 
Where I can go to shul 
    without being hassled - I hope!
As a Tolkien buff 
    well that is another story altogether......

The Oppressed

The oppressed 

It was twilight mist hung over the valley when I saw the big horse 
on a knoll was a warrior, a charger, looking toward the east. 
I mounted, and we flew to the land of hatred, the mount neighed
stamped its hooves ready for battle. 
When the soldiers, who’s moral had become rancid, saw us two, 
they throw weaponry away fled to the silent fortification and wailed 
in terror,  for the first time in 70 years there was peace. 

The store- keeper soul, of the enemy of concord, wasn`t happy there 
were murmurs in the ranks, they had wanted a higher percentage.
I was standing by a yellow sandstone rock, dreaming the impossible, 
it is the only future the hassled people have, for now, but are patient 
and will never leave their beloved land

Kid and a Not So Funny Bee

Tap tap play dough
ice-cream and rainbow
Grandma took us to Don Valley
To get some ribs for Aunt Sally
We went to the butcher's shop
There,we saw bees buzz buzz buzz

"Hello busy bee! How are you today?
How’s life? Is your hive making okay?"

Golden ball frowned and yelled at me
Stretched his wings and pointed his stinger at me
With his eyes blue as sky
He stared into my little eyes
I could see that he was angry
Hadn’t found my greetings so much friendly
I threw my ice-cream at him
I think I kinda squashed that thing
I screamed and jumped up and down
My grandma swiping her handmade gown
She banged my head with her shopping bag
I trembled and fell on dozens of beef stacks
More bees were coming for me
All for a small talk I did
Grandma grabbed me from my neck
Hurry! Hassled out of the mess I made
I shook my pants and stumbled
Tried to avoid the stares and  mumbles 
Lumps and bruises all over me
 "I  will never make friends with a bumble bee!"

Bad Relations

When you get to, to the place that
   I must leave you, when you get to th' station
When you look back, will it matter?
If I treated you badly would you forgive me?
       Broken down, I'll be sorry at the station
   Sister's relief, a brother's regret, at the station 
 
There were details, misunderstandings
    Hammers and nails, and bad relations
You remember, like the ocean don’t
As true love forgets, like I don’t remember
         Give as good as you get at the station
   Sister's relief, a brother's regret, bad relations 
 
I‘m sliding now, into tomorrow
    Wi' nothing left t‘ steal or t' borrow
 You just went on, hassled n' hustled 
Th' devil took you home, now not so troubled
         Broken down I am sorry, at the station
    Sister's relief, a brothers regret, bad relations

Casting Couch

How frantic my antics when I'm in a panic-
my thoughts alone could sink the Titanic!
Hassled, frazzled-  razz-madazzled
when I feel so well and Manic!

Taken for granted, a Life enchanted,
and gifts of Art, by God implanted.
Confuses the Muses with makeshift excuses-
my trembling Mind, thus reprimanded!

For sloth, for laze, for lost ambition;
for languid lax, these poor conditions!
I feel punctured at this juncture-
Overwhelmed by such attrition...

Discerning my yearning, but also learning
that life affords but one audition.

Why Did You Pull Me Over

You Had No Reason To Pull Me Over

By Elton Camp

It gave poor Fred quite a fright
A siren and a flashing blue light

He was certain he wasn’t speeding
And that other laws he was heeding

He was only trying to get to work
Now to be hassled by that jerk

Fred buzzed the window down
As the swaggering cop came around

“What is this?  I wasn’t doing a thing.”
To the cop’s lips, a sneer did spring

“Pal, that’s exactly what they all say.
That I shouldn’t be doing ‘em this way.”

“Your brother, a senator well may be
But that doesn’t mean a thing to me.”

“And I know my salary comes from you.
I’ve already heard that one plenty, too.”

“Your were driving with a phone to your ear.
To road’s center and edge you came near.”

“A cheeseburger is clutched in your right hand.
Between your knees, a drink cup does stand.”

“In your left hand you are holding a French fry.
To control your vehicle it is impossible to try.”

Your seat belt and shoulder strap hang loose
For these safety violations, there is no excuse

“I’ll list all the charges you will face
When the judge will hear your case.”

Bee's Knees

If bees have knees
They must be quite tiny
What about elbows
Or a cute tiny heinie?

And what about thighs
That end at the knees?
Do they ever wear shorts?
Are they hassled by fleas?

Now how about hair
Is it long and flowing?
Do they wear tiny parkas
When winter wind's blowing?

When one tells a joke
Do the other ones giggle?
Can they write with a pen
Does it look like a squiggle?

Do you know what scares 'em?
Do they have any fears?
When a bee friend dies
Do they cry honey tears?

© Jack Ellison 2012

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