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 ...
It's in a turtle soup shop where I'm employed
It's my duty to cook vomit-inducing soup turtle
which no decent human palate could stand;
a horrid job and a salary which is even worse,
an insult to my brilliant overdeveloped mind;
Not to mention the iniquitous schedule,
though there's something much worse:
the appalling uniform which is an insult
to a nonfrivolous mind like mine;
and in no way instrumental in contributing
to social elegance but a pathological attack
on good taste and gumption!
a distorted regurgitation of undigested
food for thought!
A lavender cup with the grotesque company logo!
The unsightly checked fuchsia and gray pants!
And to top it all: a striped khaki and purple poncho!
My odious uniform! Imported from Togo!
A lovely idea had the company's honcho!
An idea that my Togolese friend rejects!
I hug him! I look up to him!
'Cause he abhors both poncho and honcho!
Cripes! Yikes!
Dinner's ready! Yucky turtle soup I shall regurgitate!
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
Here I stand…
I hope you understand…
I hope you can see…
I hope for you to see
To see what happens
When love is given
A second chance to bloom
In my heart
I slept for way too many hours
It empowers me – the thought of reaching out to you
Numb without you motivating me…
But, now it’s all over…
V.5/Bridge:
You always held a spot
Always left room
For that piece
I held close
Letting fate take its course
I must confess to you now
Here I am
Here I wait…here I wait…
I’m coming undone…I’m feelin’ like I’m too late
To save you this time
I hope you would arrive – I’m a lost lamb
In a hopeless state…
I won’t hesitate to sift away my horrid fate…fate…
Have I wasted your time?
I cried a river
In my heart, in my heart
Deliver…oh deliver
Me from fear – give me the strength to fight…
Let me fight with my might
I won’t drift away in the death cart
Our love was a precious work of art
Once upon a time, I loved you with all of my heart
Once upon a dream, tragedy's sting made us both depart
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.
As I ride this open range I’d like to thank the Honcho in the sky,
For bushwhack beans and jerky with a wedge of Huckleberry pie.
For the lonesome sound of the whistle from a far off distant train,
And the sweet smell of the sagebrush right after a springtime rain.
And thank you for the saloon girl, she loves me I’ve been told,
I know that she surely must because she’s got a heart of gold.
I’d like to say thanks for my spurs that jingle when I walk,
And for my chewin’ tobacco that splatters when I talk.
Thank you Lord for sending me these cowboys that I can trust,
To help me watch over the cattle cause out here that’s a must.
And thank you for the prairies and a land that is so wide,
I can find my solitude knowing that from you I’ll never hide.
I thank you Lord for all your blessings that you’ve granted me,
And thank you for my life because a cowboy is what I chose to be.
Stifle not time tested, glowing fires
Must you take heel, run pronto!
Lt. Mira holding the poisoned cup to sip.
Poker face, decks cleared for the volley,
From a three decker broadside.
A next please.
Read Shaw’s Arms and the Man
What of Sergious, The complete moron.
Get your charge of the femina brigade;
Decimated for all I care.
For once the huntress becomes the hunted.
You will come back frenzied truth; I Know.
Star attraction of this friendship,
Is the cacophony pedant.
The morbid self-preserving wish.
Take heed arrogance.
Duty bound we can enter its preserve
The armor is ethics and truth.
Worldlywise cynic, you may be immune.
No one is complete, be it man or the fair sex.
Sure, Amazon your honcho is on the wish list.
Nice girl, puff goes the smoke screen.
Would the warrior care to know? Yuppie!
What pincer moves, ‘Next Please’.
They say he's lord of the drunken banter,
that dame who sings there's whom he's after;
he boasts aloud he can bag any broad
who strays into this smoky pub by the road.
He roars: "Hey, waiter, don't you block my view,
she smiles and sings exclusively for me
same songs of love that always sound so new,
she's really hooked on me as you can see."
"So, waiter, step aside and stay away,
just wish you were that guitar on her lap
or that mike upon her lips, but then, hey,
that's only in your groggiest dream, poor chap."
"Here she comes, now just watch this macho man;
she'll surely sit here close to me, you'll see.
Hello, sweet babe, you got a sexy plan?
These cool dudes here won't mind, they'll let us be."
She smiles and stands close to the banter lord
and says to clear things up, just for the record:
She wants them all to meet the man of her life,
and he's this waiter here, and she's his wife!
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