Disgruntled troops fall in line
when the head honcho appears
Long-time rebels go soft in the mouth
Seems they now value their paychecks
as they retreat to the womb
of a company experiencing a boom
Upon a steeple looking down, a noisy bird reigns supreme
Head honcho, high roller, his bad ass attitude full of steam
Put em up, Do you know who I am, Are you looking at me
Come on then, That’s what I thought, Only chickens I see
Squawking, squealing, hooting, prisoners will not be taken
His mockingbird mama tweets, I’ll kill you for over-faking!
Bite Size Poem no17 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
12/08/2021
If I was the ruler of the world...
The Head Honcho so to speak
First thing I'd do
Is to rule out all wars forever
They never accomplish anything
Except kill many innocent folks like you and me
The end results never justifies the loss
Of so many innocent souls
When will we ever learn
Or WILL we ever learn
Man has been acting like animals since the beginning
The Leader of the Pack, the Head Honcho
My question is... WHY?
Is there a gene embedded in our soul
That forces us to consider war
Instead of a lifetime of peace and contentment
Seems kinda silly to me
There certainly is a dark side
To us guys, us so-called intelligent beings
If only we could all live in peace forever
And never have to fight another war
What a dreamer!
8/15/17
No matter what happens next
May not always make sense
And seem far-fetched
On either side of fence
For ages
The whole place going through changes
And phases
Occuring non-stop
Below and above the top
Occasionally might get one's wires crossed
Still try to connect the dots
Across the whole span
Could get out of hand
And go not according to plan
Or end up being a sham
Might have one's hands full
Eye(s) on the goal
In control on one's own mind, body and soul
At a slow rate or pronto
Could be an employee, or the head honcho
Driving a Ford Bronco
Or Lamborghini Murcielago
Struggling to make ends meet, or living like you won the lotto
They descend into the hearts of men
like a troop
Don’t let ‘em in,
don’t let ‘em in
Or they will devour everything good within
Thousand voices of evil
hammering away at your resistance
Until they shatter your will not to yield
Leaping maniacally over the breached spirit wall,
banshee screaming coming down the hall
of your medulla oblongata
Legion
taking up residence
Your soul now being sold on the open market
Bought yourself some new real estate
down by the fire and brimstone lake
El Diablo
is the new head honcho
at your neural command center
He says: heaven can wait,
being holy is so out-of-date
Guest of honor held hostage is your wretched fate
Legion
Legion of devils
Now you’re a spineless jellyfish host,
who put up a cream puff battle ...
You’re such a weak milquetoast
Got an open vacancy sign neon flashing,
letting every wayfaring foul spirit know —
in your condemned soul inn,
you welcome the overflow
Here's an oxymoron
that's sure to brighten your day:
being the selfish head honcho,
in the end never pays;
purchasing personal glory
at the cost of a friend.
But being selfless
helps out everybody else
(and as an added bonus
even yourself)
NOTE: Haven't written anything new since I left Idaho, so I thought I'd share an older poem instead ...
If I was the ruler of the world...
The Head Honcho so to speak
First thing I'd do
Is to rule out all wars forever
They never accomplish anything
Except kill many innocent folks like you and me
The end results never justifies the loss
Of so many innocent souls
When will we ever learn
Or WILL we ever learn
Man has been acting like animals since the beginning
The Leader of the Pack, the Head Honcho
My question is... WHY?
Is there a gene embedded in our psyche
That forces us to consider war
Instead of a lifetime of peace and contentment
Seems kinda silly to me
There certainly is a dark side
To us guys, a so called intelligent species
If only we could all live in peace forever
And never have to fight another war
What a dreamer!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Head honcho, forever bristling
Bleached exterior, this mask of
countenance
Princey, let me kiss you, my liege
We are only Men in Black -
Chieftain for the cause
Priest of neoclassism
Maestro of Propriety
You are.
He stamps and huff - truth or
farce?
This I do not know - I heard
Still the serprent, however sly leaves a print
It slithers - yes, and leaves a print -
Wiil Imposer
Chief Impostor
Usurper
You are.
Head honcho of feline wit
Your back never rests next to our
feet
This bloated extremity of covetousness
Is bottomless, an abyss, a vacuum -
Pathetic dominus
Bringer of Locusts
Cowrie counter
You are
Truly you desire this:
My lips pressed to your rear
My face mopping the earth
My nails digging the crust
The Goddess' emissary
Meister of duplicity
Exalted Prince
You are.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.