Rainfall pulls the blinds,
on bouncy folk’s wild picnic,
vile thunder as wet blanket,
yet blindside sunburst’s,
so prompt relief augurs well,
for merry beanfest revived
Ominous dark cloud,
imagined plague, close peril,
might scupper gallant junket,
but fleeting storm front,
heartens madcap daring poised,
to trailblaze gold rush frontiers
The vague and the abstract turned into a contract,
adrenaline junkies, now joined in a dare.
With hands up, no screaming, they’d both go careening,
defying gravity at the State Fair.
What started as amity morphed to calamity
enough that the riders had panic attacks.
When they reached the summit, they started to plummet
just as a mutt ventured onto the tracks.
The new rollercoaster got hot as a toaster
as the conductor stomped hard on the brake.
With no time for acting, they heard the impacting
of metal on flesh as the mutt flew the lake.
To worsen the matter, gratuitous splatter
was added for gratis to this ruinous ride;
they grew more embittered once they had considered
those patches of hide from the cur that had died.
The horrors receded as they both conceded
while parting the last bits of gore with a comb.
They climbed in the pickup, and with no further hiccups
slumped up the hill slowly and headed for home.
There's a man from Nantucket.
That lives in an oak bucket.
He's not very big.
And took just one swig.
Drunk on a summer junket.
tiny lump-like, grown soon into a mass nested
in a pouch, born into a gentle light flesh with tiny limbs and heart sealed in a bottle left off to the shores of critics.
life is like a fairytale but i'm no princess but an anatomy of your clenching-wordage / thorns of its cicatrice engraved beneath my skin—my sunken dark eyes trail a path to your chest you say is full of love, wishing these claw-like-fingers could rip out your heart and wash gently out my contusions in your blood
and i lay on bare on the ground, free from all dark voices and blurred lines
"as i can junket to a world outside the typical hierarchy and human inferiority complex"
For those residents in MAGAville,
That can't seem to pull their heads out of Trumps' ass.
Take a minute away from those affectionate kisses, and
For that moment, you might not be without class.
I know it must be difficult for you,
To honestly think and even act for yourself.
But what the hell, take a break from your ignorance,
And raise your mind above that bottom shelf.
Maybe then you can show some independence,
Since you don't always have to follow the crowd.
While those keepers of oaths and stupidity,
Can look elsewhere to make their boys proud.
Because honestly, you've been missing the boat of reality,
While sailing on a junket to an island of fantasy.
And pardon me against all truth that's social,
But that gibberish is quite simply, lunacy!
So stand tall, pull your big-boy pants on,
Take a deep breath, then swallow hard.
Take a look in the mirror with clear eyes,
Find the truth behind the lies, and what remains is a canard.
(Reply to Jack Ellison’s “A Secret Formula”
with my apologies)
Jack ruminates, one day past
no i shall not say his prime
an old duffer - no, a daffy duck
with a bit of luck in his bill
be careful passing about your specimen
oh c’mon soup, his mind
he’s no average joe, no joe
at all, but a happy chap
Jack thinks himself playing craps
everyone leans in to hear the secret
but his formula is sealed
in the recesses of a junket
his trunk open, hanging out
for all to see
delighting you and me
still, dear poet, fasten your overcoat
and Happy Birthday, dear!
9/23/2022
James Dean junket drive
Up the bend away at Five
Met his end all plaster-fied
The Hollywood pied piper
Hellva lot better Dean
A young-man Diana been
No old man crapping in a diaper
But a trip for the worse
Early turn in a hearse
No fun for fans all screaming
Running at double time
Crossing over the line
Makes an end of your California dreaming
INSPIRATION
Under open skies
When the morning Sun
blazes out in all its glory;
And the clapping winds
call out to me to scribe
their wandering story.
I ramble ere I will
among sweet nature’s finery,
And scribble down the verse and
couplets the trees, the hills and
rushing burns would shout me!
Then, when once more homeward
bound from my morning junket,
With a poem written in my notebook
safely sitting in my pocket.
© Peter Morriss 17.01.2018
Stirring cauldrons of cataclysm
And with ladle full
The storm of deception has fallen
From tounge to voice to fool.
Born is this entity, a monster of sorts
And to this monster we grant
Entrance to our ports,
To say what is not seen,
To freely facilitate the false,
To set the junket of jargon,
And celebrate its lose.
We venture down roads in rage,
We question not the cause,
And ignore the coming page.
We march with word above purpose
And act with a dark age.
We seek not an end,
We wait for apologies,
That the monster will never send
Time will undo
What hubris did spawn
And what once was broken
Will return triumphant in the dawn.
Tom Thumb got caught peeping
Now his life is on the run
Little Bo Peep lost her sheep
On a gambling junket she was on
Little Miss Muffet is having to tuff it
Out these days in jail
Selling ecstasy to undercover police
And now can't pay her bail
Little Jack Horner took him a corner
Of the Mafia drug trade
Once you are hooked on the Meth that he cooks
There's no way of escape
You think that's bad you ain't seen nothing yet
That even comes this close
Since Mother Goose started hitting the juice
And ended up down on skid row
Humpty Dumpty's more than broke
But not from any fall
He couldn't pay his bookie
And his legs were first to go
Baa Baa Black Sheep
Where forced to sell their wool
To pay for all the damages
While they were in school
Jack pushed Jill down the hill
When he caught her cheating with Little Boy Blue
Now he's paying her doctor bills
Which has left Jack blue too
You think that's bad you ain't seen nothing yet
That even comes this close
Since Mother Goose started hitting the juice
And ended up down on skid row
First come up with a catchy title
One that will draw the crowds
Throw in a bit of Mojo
A little pizzazz, a lot of Wow
Give it a twinge of what people want
A slight tweak of what people need
That can stand on it's on, slap them square in the face
How about you call it FREE MONEY!
Now that you have the hardest of parts
Tightly locked in place
It's time to spin the ultimate rhyme
One that will blow them all away
Throw in a little love for all the ladies
One or two car chases for Dad
So as not to leave anyone out
Dinosaur's and bunny rabbits for the kids
Now take it and mix it together
Slightly shaken but never stirred
Till you have them eating out of your hands
Devouring your every word
This will keep them coming back for more
They will always be waiting in line
For your next junket through
The world of mysterious rhyme
I hope that this has been helpful
And in a way has enlightened you
Now go out there Mr.and Miz Poet
There's a line outside waiting for you
A hunk once went on a junket
With lots of money in his pocket
Many fair ones tried to be smart
Springing forward their love dart
Dude was clever to evade their net.
Mitt's plan is to lend out the buckets
A life of grand funk on a junket
his partner named Ann
Wealth is their plan
From bucket, to bank it, to "Funk It"
Whodathunkit
Jebediah Suggs
watched the gopher tortoise hide –
his veggies at risk
“Y’all listen up, dang fool tortoise
If’n yer expectin’ a meal
Ya gotta ‘nother thin’ comin’
“I been a plantin’ and a waterin’
Watchin’ my garden grow
Till y’all pop out ‘n’ steal a spinach leaf
Ta take it with ya below
“Dadgum hole makes it hard ta catch ya
So I’s been standin’ watchin’ behind
Yer in fer a new home
Some spot with no veggies I’ll find”
Ole Jeb, he nabbed his prey
‘N’ the offender looked had fear in ‘is eyes
Turtle soup was what that gopher be thinkin’
But he was just goin’ fer a ride, much to his surprise
Me, I yeehawed when Jebediah
Snatched the tortoise and drove off on a relocation junket
‘Twas then I realized I’d become a redneck too
So tell me, whodathunkit?
*Entry for the “Something New” contest
(based on a true experience)
When you have spent most of your life,
Suffering from panic attacks, Agoraphobia, and strife,
The last thing you need to happen to you,
Is for your glasses to suddenly break in two.
Only an hour before you meet Cherie Blair,
Help, what a total nightmare.
Then on the next table you spot DAVID BLUNKETT,
As you sit there filling your face with junket.
There is always someone Worse off than you,
Especially at this type of do.
Then she comes over, CHERIE BLAIR, and starts to talk to us.
It feels like a dream, we are chatting to, at the time the Prime Minister’s wife,
Telling her all about my broken glasses and strife,
Telling her how I can hardly see.
She is so nice, as nice can be.
She’s done her homework, She knows what we were all about,
She impressed us, without a doubt,
I just hope I didn’t stare,
The day we met CHERIE BLAIR.
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