Hokum pokum
we don’t tokum
Chocolate cigarettes
our kids smoke ‘em
Wheaties Eaties
our kids don’t need ‘em
Steroids for breakfast’s ~
what we feed ‘em
I'm Captain Hokum of the British Admiralty.
May I offer you a spot of tea
and tell you of my master plan
conceived in the Sea of Japan?
I set a bottle adrift, afloat,
and included in it a nifty note
which read: "If you find this vial or urn,
put in one sixpence,and return".
seductive Galway gal would not stay
such savage beauty she went astray
whether Corrib, whether Mask
Connemara man to ask
to Inishbofin she played away
Leitrim lout took drink by the flagon
very short coast, very short wagon
went inland to buy a boat
all-aboard, beer for his goat
so raised a glass, Carrick-on-Shannon
wild west playboy from county Mayo
did for his dad, very own say so
holy mountain, dreaming star
left the pub at Castlebar
shoe hanging out his Ford Mondeo
Roscommon culchie, gangly and rare
hung out near Boyle with spindly long hair
web below her knobbly knee
bank to bank across lough Ree
wrapped up her men, eight legs in the air
our Sligo boy, no good at countin'
he spied some girls down by the fountain
one, two, three, how many more?
his favourite to adore
he chased her up Benbulben mountain
daft colleen from precipitous Clare
bold like the Burren, grey bedrock stare
turloughs flowing, born and bred
banner county, father Ted
Cliffs of Moher she jumped for a dare
floaty accent, wayward man of Cork
culinary city, knife and fork
horizon dreams he was fed
Cobh harbour past Mizen head
around Kinsale then off to New York
bad tempered Kerryman lost his ring
by the Killarney lakes he did fling
butt of jokes, very cruel
Dingle berries, Carrantouhill
his MacGillycuddys reek and sing
Limerick poetess made you think
five lines she wrote then, ran out of ink
first, second and fifth must rhyme
shorter third and fourth are fine
but must keep their rhythm all in 'sync'
Tipperary jockey rode with pace
sure she won the Grand National race
cheered from lough Derg to Cashel
from Nenagh down to Clonmel
loud bells were rung for her steeplechase
Waterford witch, many followers
her crystal glass, many swallowers
toast to the oldest city
viking girl, very pretty
velvet voice. plenty polymers
The short poem
There was a time when writing poetry
was important to say something, using a few words
Long poems were frowned upon as a beginning
of a manuscript
He used to be a communist, as his mother was one
Communism, like unbridled capitalism, hates
free speech, want a restriction on what to express
unless it is in favor of the regime
To be any good at isms, one needs passion and
hatred against those who do not succumb to the norm
the standard set not to upset the powerful
He gets angry seeing injustices and says, but he is lucky
for him, he is too small to be noticed
he prefers to use irony, which is easier to get away
with as those in power lack humor
He does not believe in ideology or creed for him
it is hokum, a snare for the gullible
Years have made him wary of governments of any
description because they tend to be led by people
who lacks a long view led by the intoxication of money and power
Seeing a drunk sprawled out
on the front steps of a three-flat
and a beggar plying his trade
at the end of the block
The lad tightened his grip
on his mother's arm
walking home from school
when a few harmless shots rang out
The meaning of life had
crossed the mother's mind
earlier in the day, and though
she thought it was hokum, still
she stared up at the ceiling all night
as her lone child whimpered softly
in the crook of her arm
and the business report on the radio
waxed ecstatic over another S&P
record-setting day
Are you the one
Whom I see in my dream
Or the one
Reason behind my scream
Whenever I think you are just a hokum
You prove me wrong
Making me feel
You are a handy one
Are you the light of my eyes
Or blindness of my life
Whenever I think
I was asinine to choose you
You make me abjure
To give you sanity
Are you a cosy guy
Or an abrasive man
The reason to my astern
Or a surreal plan
I don’t know why
I recite story of our lives
Whenever I think
You are glory of my eyes
You become an anguish of my past…………
O COVID with the MO-VID, you murder bug,
Your sweet quarantine champions my gloom.
Never the buff of a handshake or hug,
Serene in the still of my fond hermit room,
Blessed detention, the liberty of walls;
And though this woe suffers me to talk
To those within these connubial halls,
Exposing my hokum, I say Fie to the Pock,
And mop my **** on duplicitous reams
Of Scotts fair ply, though I’m uncertain why
I stalk the isles in this squirreling dream
Most grateful to shop, most willing to buy
What I do not know: what this mad old bastard
Needs from his truth, and what happens after.
What HAPPENED to the love we had
What happened to the dreams we had
What happened to the moments we treasured
What really happened to the love you had for me
Did it just fade away like it never existed
Or maybe it was washed away with your sins; who knows
What happened to the dreams of us being parents of the same kids
The hopes we had that wouldn't just end
The dreams of us being under the same roof- or did you just wake up
The dreams of us putting on royal wears- of a King and Queen
Or putting on ballers wears; He's mine--> she's mine
I'm lost in thoughts and found in confusion, maybe its a hokum
We used to gaze at the stars together and smile
You used to say my eyes are brighter than the stars, I remember
But now I guess the darkness outshined them- you lied
Why did you let human words 'mtaachana tu' separate us
You said I'm your last but now you happier than us
I thought communication was the key and loyalty is the lock
She had the fixation of their closeness
Ubnormally,her heart flapping from left to right
That night her table full of flagons
And every love film she saw was a hokum to her
Her thoughts flipped for a not found answer
And now thought she was mentally handicapped
But all these hidden in a peculiar smile
She hoped to get out of it some days
She amiably treasured her old days,she remembered
Contemplating about quitting, but again condemned the thought
Feeling not contented with everything around her
She was an avid avenger
Every night didn't go along
She looked the skies with the beauty of her eyes
Though helplessly lying on the floor
But she hoped to get out of it some days
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