Loaded Potato
I’m not talking about food
Just people in general
No accountability
No responsibilities
Actions that affect others around you
Poor choices
Always excuses
Putting the blame on someone else
Like a loaded potato
Two many toppings
Always lying
Always running away
Always arguing
They want their independence
With no life experiences
Always rebellious
I have no sympathy for them
They all need bootcamp
All disrespectful
What comes around goes around
Nobody owes you
Your like a loaded baked potato
So full of yourself
Always digging yourself in a whole
You’re just bloated with stubbornness
How many will stand up for their Faith
when the devil gets his grip
agendas change
There is nothing but control over certain rights
in mind, body and broken spirits
deluded by false humility
Take a good hard look at yourself fake or real
certain symbolic gestures like pretending to care about welfare
at what point of living can you identify with the Truth
How much has been centralised around the culture of death
voodoo doctors and weird science shape the landscape of words
Just because you have letters to your name
it means nothing when lying is caught in the trap
bought loyalty bears little credits to preach about anything
how far around the bend will people go before springing back
Trust the government some will say your welfare is in their hands
I know in whom my trust remains and forever will to cut a long story short
When I arise in the morning, after “Thank you, God!” I often ask,
Am I fully loaded for this day to meet and complete my many tasks?
Have I spent the necessary time in thoughtful contemplation,
And calmed my overactive mind with deep yoga meditation?
Am I free from negative, nagging dark moods and fitful emotions?
Can I rise to the challenge of this day with faith, praise and devotion?
How I start my day sets the tone and pace of my achievements.
Gratitude, praise, and love are the highest spiritual vibrations.
When I fill my spirit with these before the morning work begins,
I know I am fully loaded and positive waves of faith pave my way
With all the help, encouragement and support I need for the day.
Chula Fleming © August 17, 2024
I Wear My Gun Easily, Loaded Well At Night
I meet my sacrifice with ample gratitude
Although with muted tongue, my ghost sings loudly
That crystal indifference soothes my attitude
None sing romance so damn righteously or proudly
Although never crowned prince nor pauper I be
My fighting sword and armor is polished gold
Sail I my ship and crew across dark, stormy sea
Far north to angry city or so I am told
I left far behind my foolish ideas of white
Knowing that some judges are cheap, easily bought
I wear my gun easily, loaded well at night
Insurance so as not to be flat footed caught.
I meet my sacrifice with ample gratitude
That crystal indifference soothes my attitude
I left far behind my foolish ideas of white
I wear my gun easily, loaded well at night.
Robert J, Lindley, 16 verse sonnet
DEC 1ST 1973
Note-
"" None are as good as they pretend
None are brave as they want to be
Yet all cry out for happy end
Even blinded, as they look to see."" RJL
Put on a brash label
That a collector's get moist
Upgrade his shelf level
Nevermind the cracked old vinyl voice
One of the four divisions
Spend bread when it meets the eye
the same scan with precision
Just those loaded images don't satisfy
sexy lips with a taste of wine a twist of beer- engaging large truck
8/24/2020
Flirt With Me Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Bobby May
The barrel is oiled and it’s ready to go,
ammo’s in the magazine ready to flow
Universal cover mode, unsure who will show
Finger on the trigger now, I’m ready to blow
True to my sights so don’t show your face
I see you in the shadows now, full of disgrace
hiding in a basement cause you know I’m an ace
Running will not help you, I’m all over the place
Palms squeeze these custom grips, I see where you went
There’s nothing in between us now, it’s time to pay rent
I’m just getting started but I see that you’re spent
I don’t think you understood the warning I sent
No I don’t need real bullets I can pierce you with words
You’ll never measure up, no not even a third
As my lyrics slam through, just the impact is heard
With the same devastation had the bullets all whirred
You still want to talk like you know me at all
Then take a look around and get ready to fall
You’ll never see me coming like a one-sided brawl
I’ll never bend a knee, no I’ll keep walking tall
The barrel is all oiled and it’s ready to go,
ammo’s in the magazine ready to flow
Universal cover mode, unsure who will show
Finger on the trigger now, I’m ready to blow
"We were cocked and loaded," Trump said*
His face turning orange then red
For Donald was tardy
To Kavanaugh's party
Since Iran fixed his squeaky bed
*Proof that Trump hears only what he wants to hear
This vexing pencil in turgid fingers I gracelessly hold
Sorcerer's lead conjures up casuistic captions, fools' gold
My peripatetic purple pen winks at my commands
Dancing to a distant drummer on sun-scorched parchment sands
A cunning keyboard mocks me, in cast-iron briefcase locked
Contrarian bent, loaded for bear, at my Muse pointed and cocked
What with erasers missing and forever low on toner ink
It's a wonder the poetic process has not driven me to drink!
loaded
full of crap
not nearly enough
powder
awesome
screams overwrought
breath in and out
like
hiccups
the coo of a dove
eyes follow
what dangles
from your fingertips
and
love
flows freely
released
by a sucking sound
4/4/2019
She is Trouble,
but she does not want to be.
She is a Loaded Gun,
That desires to protect.
But everyone who handles her
keeps tilting her in angles
that point her
straight at their heads.
loaded silence
cocked
and fired
Published in Bottle Rockets Press #47
The Dishwasher’s Loaded
The dishwasher’s loaded,
The plates are all used,
The cups are all dirty and the plates all confused.
My clothes are all ragged,
My shoes scuffed and worn,
I’m in need of no revamp to replace all that’s torn.
The hoover is silent,
The dusters lie crushed,
The paintwork is cleaned and the TV’s been hushed.
My tanks are all empty,
My vehicles SORN’ed,
The MOT’s need update and insurance informed.
My mortgage has run,
My tax is all paid,
My bills have been cleared and ‘For Sale’ signs displayed.
The drawers are all empty,
I was running on fumes,
The past is all gone, each small bit consumed.
You need to reorder,
To restock the shelves,
You need to invest and replenish yourselves.
My race has been run,
My round had been played,
I shot level par and four birdies I made.
No need to cry,
No need to regret,
The world keeps on turning, it does not forget.
©Keith Murphy
Previous training
Had me mopping
Croutons in the foreground.
I'd always been
Under or back
And loaded with brushes.
Now my "project-defined"
Had purposely left
My "effects-bank"
With no filename.
Since I to
Had nine options
I selected them all.
It gave me the jiffies
In no time at all.
The series selected
Underscored what was
A housed initial setup.
Mirroring errors
Raised my buttons.
So I reverted for
Your convenience
To edit mode
And performed timed
And highlighted
Entries of change.
We're living in times that are broken and bent
Where fragile is the word of the day
More looking to get that ever to give
Not worried at the come what may
There never is rest for the weary head
Or the seam of things come undone
It's no secret kept that what we have left
Is the day of the loaded gun
Battle sides drawn, which side is wrong
Depends on the side you're on
And those that wont play, go their own way
Preferring to be left alone
And alone we'll all be in this society
Of you either need to duck or run
Where losers will weep as the finders keep
In the day of the loaded gun
We fight all the time, the frame of mind
Of selfishness wants its own way
But if it wasn't for self then I ask you who else
Would give you the time of day
Did she pack up and leave because of you and me
Cause I ain't seen hide nor hair of love
Can anyone blame it for calling it quits
In the day of the loaded gun
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