Tending to be creatures of whimsy, spirit and superstition
Deriving power from unsteady voices
Unsure of the implications of undefined “truths”
Pandering to the belief that “they” are the only “one”
Would we bow before an icon, an idol, a statue
Blindly serve a heaven-sent huckster
Or maybe…someday…become more than an echo
Become a voice, an action, a thought
That alters the arc of inanimate action
Challenging the reign of the Butterflies wings
Frazzled freakish freckled Flo
Generously gives gifts on the go
Huckster Hugo has eyes for Flo
If they get together, who will know?
Just Jeremy, Jenny, Jimmy and Joe
Kindly crazy kin set up a glow
Lighting the meadow for Hank and Flo
Midnight merriment, a fireworks show
Me thinks Hillbilly Vance is too highfalutin'
A big corporate crack pot? Yeah, yer darn tootin'
Gimme Jed Clampet any day
Jethro, Granny or Ellie May
Not a hack for a huckster who praises Vlad Putin!
Nails are common fasteners in the carpentry trade
And for DIY enthusiasts, as well.
When considering the varieties of nails,
It’s a counter-intuitive fact that cut nails,
With their angular shafts and blunt tips,
Work better than drawn wire nails,
Which have cylindrical shafts and pointed tips.
The geometry of cut nails allows them
To be more firmly gripped by the wood fibers,
Anchoring them more securely than wire nails.
And because they align with the grain of the wood
They are less likely to split lumber than wire nails,
Especially if you’re hammering
Into hardwood near the edge.
Cut nails can also come in handy
When driving home a point.
If you’re working construction,
Cut nails prove better.
But yours are clearly drawn and sharp as carpet tacks.
They disjoin and incite and direct insurrection.
You’ve split the wood and lost your grip.
You, sir, are no master carpenter.
You’re not even an amateur handyman.
You’ve built a house divided hawking tribalism
For your own self-serving ends.
You’re nothing but a cheap carnival huckster,
A cowardly bushwhacker, not some clever rebel hacker.
Your trolling’s just a slacker’s brand of vandalism.
You'd hear them every morning
Like a band of baritones
The echoes of the horseshoes
Clacking, on the cobblestones
Each huckster with a wagon
Pulled behind a blindered roan
Parading back and forth between
The rows of old brownstones
One would have fresh vegetables
And one would have fresh fruits
Another might have leather goods
Like saddles, shoes or boots
From furniture to pots and pans
Each peddler resolute
But if you looked then walked away
They'd follow in pursuit
Some just made deliveries
Likes eggs, or milk, or ice
Regardless of their service
Each one friendly, each one nice
Though some might have a gimmick
Like a special, to entice
If you had bought from them before
They might just drop their price.
By Daniel Turner
Hope forewarned
Such was Jeremiah's call:
Go, tell my people what I'm going to do;
Know that they will not listen to you.
Hope forlorn
determining the odds on a bet:
You choose this or that, using your brain;
you lose sometimes, money down the drain.
Hope shopworn
accompanies buying a car:
Fishing, sales huckster puts on airs;
dishing out money later for repairs.
Hope unborn
Such are some relationships:
the beauty of lovers, errant;
the duty of becoming a parent.
Hope well-born
An Italian fishing boat
saves a victim amnesia-bound,
Jason Bourne - identity found.
Hope with a thorn
Hope deferred makes the heart sick:
You bait your prayers with a promise;
You wait on God, doubting like Thomas.
April 26, 2021
Just an SUV driving, habitually late American man
High on coffee, low on energy and full of raisin bran
Lured by the social network swept into the dustpan
Looking for lost memories, old friends and a new plan
Never conceding, never really believing in small talk
Always right to the point where one walks the walk
With only the barest of necessities taken for the ride
He keeps a wickedness that only the old school hide
Ready for the ultimate chance to hoodwink a sucker
To be an expert, self-made very successful huckster
Hoping to someday be the richest of all who tried
And never worrying about doing it before he died
Democracy hating, dictator loving,
media baiting, neo-Nazi hugging
... Duck! Donald
I heard someone in the rally crowd cry,
then I saw a blurred object come flying by
Someone lobbed a hard truth brick,
and hollered, start building your wall with that
I believe they were dressed in Antifa protest black
Bankruptcy deal maker, reality TV huckster icon,
Birtherism claim faker, most lawsuit defenses by anyone
... Duck! Donald
I heard someone in the gathering mob shriek,
then I felt loud whooshing cutting through the tension in the air
Someone had threw another heavy truth brick,
and shouted, no more alternative facts from the Russian teddybear
I think they were dressed in LGBT rainbow gear
Sour tweets communicator, KKK dog whistler,
Congressional instigator, judicial circumventer
... Duck! Donald
I heard someone in the murmuring masses moan:
Aw, shoot ... that third quack done hit home!
wake up
arrogant bird
black velvet blot
calling now raucously down the wind
light is barely caressing the patch work hilltops
snow creeps minutely
backing off from the slumbering valley
a new spring chorus will soon commence
you self inflated huckster
rush to grab the top most branch
arranging a choir of cacophony
out-sounding the melodious songsters
attempting to mate
through the rusty gate imitations.
'Umbrella Jim' was the sneakiest scoundrel west of the Missisip'!
Usin' the shell game and sleight of hand, of yer purse he'd gyp.
He'd set up shop 'neath an umbrella whether inside or under an oak.
Usin' three thimbles and a ball he cleaned the jeans of many a bloke!
'Umbrella Jim' was a renown huckster as well as bein' quite witty.
He'd warm up his potential victims by singin' this delightful ditty:
"A little bit of fun now and then,
Is relished by the best of men!
Select yer shell! The one you choose,
If right you win, if not, you lose!
But I'll warn ye, yer chances are mighty slim,
Of winnin' a prize from Umbrella Jim!"
'Twas his regular trade to deceive the eye with sleight of hand.
He was very adept at what he did and his every move was planned.
The fate of 'Umbrella Jim' as far as I can tell is unknown,
But I'd bet some sucker saw him hung from an oak, if truth be known!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
the Poetaster
syllabic bastard
quoth the poet,
nevermore
thine versifier
pathos bathos
pathetic liar
rhymester runes
huckster tunes
hurry! hurry! hurry!
here's more of rhyme
no worry...or sublime
sub-worse verse
© Goode Guy 2011-09-27
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peri_Bathous,_Or_the_Art_of_Sinking_in_Poetry
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Pope
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/poetaster
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/rhymester
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/versifier
I sought to write verse tried and true,
But jester scuttled my muse making me blue.
I responded with childhood rhymes I once knew,
Yet that clown pilfered all and then withdrew.
Rebounding, I sought rhythm's cadence to renew,
Alas, he scrambled my patterns and my timing did screw.
Regaling remaining wit, many riddles did I queue.
Frustratingly, that spinster unraveled every clue.
Revitalizing the inner spirit, a few puns did I brew.
Revolting, that huckster for shallow laughter did sue.
Forlorn, I tried with other's quotes to imbue;
He called me a charlatan and my lack of honor did rue.
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