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She never grows old
Though excessively cold
Her happening explode
Alike a rifle reload
Laugh exists as the valley of peace
Being relished she should price modest fees
Mole at the chin, a catalyst to her beauty
Being gazed she must impose a heavy-duty
The nose has a camel hump
Slaughters soul at occasions, while inside concerns she jump(s)
Shall us applaud her as well
Minor sleep has provoked her eyes to swell
Her heterogeneous attire is love
Never doubtful, the woman a gorgeous dove
Nails she bite
Neglecting meals of diet
A matron, imperfectly perfect
Though cerebrum & cerebellum own enormous defect
Watery eyes are testimony of satire
Earning her heart, people ought to be brilliant qualifier(s)
'Like the silence that screams, cursing solitude...
whispers of faith sing patiently with prayers.'
(Quoted by Regina Mc Intosh)
Hung suspended from hive rafters hexagonal
Leader Lady Ruler Bee gorges imprudent
Heavy duty seeps striped desirous abdominal
Workers hover, rush beneath Queen exuberant
Team enthusiasm pumps a syrup scaffold
Propolis produces massed mission belligerent
Numb buzzing bumblers fumble fated cuckold
Hunger for cohesion, gold body encompass
Busy anonymous paupers, sources unresolved
Eager in sweetness, clan clustered accomplice
Reverently fulfills each gluttonous request
Swift need swords stung in caustic redundance
Plump with pupae, flightless wings flouresced
Polar iceberg cream honey hearts can't ingest
13th January 2021
Written for Contest: Terza Rima Quote
Sponsor: Regina Mc Intosh
lets double
check our gear
heavy duty
helmet topped with
a light an underneath
chin strap as well as
a body
harness
check
at least fifty yards of
rope with ten pitons
each and as many
carabiners comfortable
for one to
carry
check
now gather round
and take a look at
where we're hoping
to climb and yes i know
we are known as spelunkers
but this is more an orifice trip
it seems there is some
dissent about our descent
i assure you some of these
orifices are seemingly endless
dangerous but satisfying so by
a show of hands how many are we
just me
i see it's that
way that no one
truly wants to explore
just to stay safe and do the
usual two minutes in then out
but i i'm
going to give
her a go simple
foreplay in the shallows
of her bellybutton surely
to be taken in by the sheer
awe of
the unknown
but a sense of
fleshy familiarity yet
not knowing the feeling
of loneliness but that of being one
we are birds of chaotic cities
our screams are our crowing
we have been in pain forever
our heavy-duty wheel
we are the ruins of the Lost Continent
Skull and Crossbones alumni)
passed along ancestral line when
cock sure rooster spent
however long with a hen
guaranteed supply grunt workers
oxymorons helpless to get even.
“Bosses” male ordure
trained as prospective
male pecking wives,
who with Robbie
didst rig the game to win
endemic nepotism deeply entwined
from one to the next kith and/or kin,
rode shotgun, viz nemesis
resorting to: “silent treatment”
against protesting lumpenproletariat
boot gnome hatch
against hardy thrive
off crene della creme limn
back before thyme
bred from for
gotten slight, min
us school Kudzu, gone
now and agin
gastronomically ferociously carniverous
selected and enveloped
postal stamping brutes
rampant suffocating nin
come poops figurative
thorn in side of aristocracy
heavy-duty industrial strength
pesky original pin
sir blithely festered,
nursed, and stewed
from unforgotten
perceived or actual slight
engendering infinite yawning voids
defying aid of Patch Adams
or Doctor Quinn.
6/17/17
I'm just cooling
And musing
Below the flooring and above the roofing
Still manuevering and moving
Working hard towards improving
Live a life of your choosing
Focused on what I'm doing
Got to get it, can't continue snoozing
While there is and isn't booming
Whether win draw or losing
Before and after what is ensuing
Regardless of if it may be confusing
Quickly fuming
Often stooping
To such a low level, then snooping
People feuding
And dueling
Over petty things, continually adding fueling
To the fire, while ridiculing
Among objects that may or may not be protruding
Near and far from lifeforms and items by themselves or in a tight-knit grouping
At a rapid pace, spewing
It's all bad when it comes to polluting
Always stirring up the pot, and tooting
Your own horn, while assuming
Because you want to see another's undoing
Shame on those that continue spoofing
And fooling
As well as those that did or are planning a mass shooting
There's just no excusing
Such horrendous actions, regardless of it involved drug abusing
And heavy duty boozing
I have a small secret love in my life,
A marriage I love to do,
It’s when I use the stapler,
Making one grouped sheet from two.
The heavy duty mechanical,
The straight, to big, to small,
I love the crunch of bending steel,
The papered wedding, I love it all.
And at special times there’s 5 sheets or more,
A bunch to join as one.
Then, when the pile of paper’s so big,
I use the electric staple gun.
My small secret I keep so quiet,
I never want to create a scene.
I just quietly work my job, 9 to 5,
With the photocopy machine.
Written 15th March 2017 on a whim for John Lawless' contest
Moral decay
Night nurses prey or pay
Dressed in white or gray
Black and dark night fay
Freezing hot they fey
Heavy duty they lay
Gone to make hay
While sun slay
I had the strangest feeling
That if I cut my hair
All of my crazy poem ideas
Would suddenly disappear
Like Samson with Delila
I'd loose that added edge
If I didn't keep this mop top
On top of my knotted head
All the poetry would be zapped from me
And I would lose my purpose
Start rhyming things like moon with June
At that point my pen would be worthless
But I couldn't take it anymore
It was driving me insane
So I got out the heavy duty shears
And did something about this mane
I now see the pile in front of me
Expecting the Philistine's to crash through the door
But the only action that there is
Is me sweeping my curley remains up off the floor
I now face the day in front of me
Showing no lack of courage
Continuing in my quest
Of looking for that elusive word that rhymes with orange
Oh, a mangy little doggie went galumphing down the street
And as his luck would have it he just happened there to meet
A warden with a wagon and a heavy-duty net
And he nabbed the rabid mongrel and he took him to the vet.
Girls just want to have fun
In the mist of noon day sun
Taking off ailments riding on
Sharing new buildings of information
By the ton
Holding up the banner
Of we can
The many hats we wear
Performing them all at once
God knows just what he is doing
The church is called a her
Have you ever wondered why?
Giving birth is heavy duty
Girls just want to have fun
Leaving the cares behind at times
Diapers on the line
Dinner plans
Kids PTA meetings
Family gatherings
ETC, ETC, ETC
Let our hair down
Resting from post par tum
Have a glass of wine
In spare moments chimed
A smile that proves I’m good but a frown so bad,
No backpack on my shoulder but my heart to drag,
Long gone from the scene of the crime without a tag,
Over seen as dangerous just because my Levi jean’s sag,
Carrying the sorrows in my mind with a heavy duty plastic bag,
No surrender against the world so throw away the white flag,
Whipping the sweat off my forehead with a torn rag,
No gossip but little birdies do brag.
THE TWELVE DAYS OF HAPPY HOLIDAYS
In days gone by when the wordld was much younger
Kids played football in the streets
And for celebration had very simple treats.
People had a more limited possessions-hunger.
Gifts were graceful with beauty.
Now they are plastic and practical :
Their appeal is less spiritual, more electrical -
With batteries included (heavy duty).
No more partridges in a pear tree.
What about five golden rings?
Forget them . . . . . bring me bling !
And printer cartridges (buy the pair, one free).
Singing the sectarian “Merry Christmas” is out these days.
The “endangered-species” people would find absurd
The former four-calling-birds being heard.
So we have a song-free politically-correct “Happy Holidays”.
The town of Lovech (Bulgaria), there was a concentration camp called sarcastically "Sunny
Beach". There are imprisoned without trial of people with democratic beliefs. The camp was
closed by the then communist regime, because
violations of law, heavy duty and assault, but no one has been held criminally liable.
Lovech
This town is
like a hollow of kid.
No, we won’t stay more than
that much.
Than a fragrance of lilacs.
Than a river somewhere going.
Than a stone fortress staying against somebody.
Than a cross fixed into
(in memory).
Yes, we will stay.
That much.
Author notes
Thanks on behalf of of the few survivors who broke into tears after reading this poem,
because there are none to remember them.
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