Long Alimony Poems
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I'm going to tell you a story that is pretty scary.
And I'm sure it will convince you to never marry.
Because of my marriages, I'm no stranger to pain.
My wives were terrible and nearly drove me insane.
I haven't been married once or twice, I've been married three times.
After I pay them alimony, I don't have a dime.
My first wife kicked me in the crotch if I even looked at another girl.
My second wife spent everything on expensive jewelry, such as pearls.
When I married for the third time, I started getting sick.
I later learned that the shedevil was feeding me arsenic.
That arsenic was so bad that some times it made me puke all over the table.
People tell me to remarry but because of my financial troubles, I'm not able.
If you're a man, you'd better do some investigating before you take a wife.
And if she is anything like any of my ex-wives, you'd better run for your life.
By the way,
Have you felt the stick today?
Missed a child support payment or alimony?
How’s it feel to live in the land of the free?
By the way,
Can you afford the heat?
Does your daily menu include gene-altered meat?
How’s it feel to have no choice;
to be run by a government
who won’t hear your voice?
By the way,
have you paid for the water you drink;
because you don’t trust, the kitchen sink’s?
How does it feel to be so free;
to raise your hand to take a pee;
to be arrested and detained
to receive no trial but a waterboards’ pain?
How’s it feel to live in the land of the free;
to have your passport chipped
and your phone calls clipped?
Does anyone live in this mythical land?
If you do, please lend us a hand.
Tell us how to take care of our children
and the sick.
How to live a good life without carrying the stick.
Please, please, tell me how to be proud
of the world we live in right now.
By the way, Have you felt the stick today?
Missed a support payment or alimony?
How’s it feel to live in the land of the free?
Surely, this is NOT civility.
By the way, can you afford the heat?
Does your menu include gene-altered meat?
In a civil land, surely all would be fed.
In a civil land, all would have roofs and beds.
How’s it feel to have no obvious choice
run by a government who won’t hear your voice?
By the way, have you paid for the water you drink,
because you don’t trust, the kitchen sink’s?
Certainly civility should and would decree
a clean, functioning place to simply pee?
Would a civil nation arrest and detain
so many strangers to receive a water boards’ pain?
Does civil society require your passport chipped?
Does a nation of laws allow phone calls clipped?
Each country claims to be this mythical land
where the masses are cared for, given a hand.
In this Never Neverland no one would stay sick.
We'd all live good life’s without carrying the stick.
In this Never Neverland we'd live proudly free
represented by goodness in grand civility.
Late but received her first cheque for alimony
Shot off to this new market based on a raving testimony
She circled and circled… was the ad phony?
No signs… no arrows… was it hidden this Chez Tony?
Suddenly a little hole in the wall behind some random pony!
Groceries for one, a dose of reality, the fish was bony
The smell reminiscent of rancid sanctimony
She settled for cheese and macaroni
a pound of baloney
in honour of their matrimony
and a devil cake for the irony
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Submitted on March 26, 2018 for contest A HIDDEN MARKET sponsored by JULIA WARD - RANKED 1ST
Anesthetized, day one, I become her bug caught in the web
Asphyxiated, entangled and cursed, numbed to feel no pain
It was a Wednesday if I remember when we wed
She grew a beard and punished me for breathing
I succumbed to her femininity, her tooth
It was a pretty one to chew with. That's the truth!
It was a Thursday in the second day of Lent
It took seconds for my bank account to empty
Her power of persuasion left me blank
A testament to her awesome empty nest to come
Three days into marriage we finally went to bed
Precious consumed my brain and everything within it
Who needs condoms when you have your condiments
Mustard , ketchup, cheese and crackers please
When you don't have long to live you snack instead
Day four, she put me on a lease to walk outdoors
Dogs and cats make better pets than spiders
Sentimental to the end she took my soul and sold it
I succumb to her because she is my wife
Not because she held a butcher knife
By day five she grew fat, sprang eight legs
Became a nag, that's only natural they say
I'm not afraid of anything that screams at me
Because she says so
I wish six days a week to be united
Or at least to live another day intact
It is not wise to question honey's facts
Seven days in love must be our lucky number
Marital bliss numbs me to my knees
I survived to kiss the bride another day
It must be time to say Good Bye.........
Eight days a week I feel the love inside
Eight legs wrapped around my spine
A tingling sensation, sentimental spider
Before I die, before you eat my mind again my love
The alimony check is on the table, post dated for your pleasure
Don't get pregnant. Use protection
For your convenience before I forget
I will always be your prey before your friend
I pray you don't get indigestion
Lately, the weather has dropped drastically,
and Fall holds up serenely and beautifully;
green trees so stately gently fluctuate
against a sky of transparent blue as hummingbirds make plans to migrate,
but the downy woodpeckers interrupt their chat
with their unbearable drumming that disturbs their peace with intent.
Summer in New York State has been humid and stormy,
temperatures rose above a hundred degrees as pavements smoked,
sprinklers in streets made children happy as they were being soaked...
so very thankful to live in a rich country offering such a commodity;
adversely, a water shortage caused drought in the South allowing tragedy
as gasoline and food prices soared and spouses couldn't pay alimony.
Hot summers predict cold winters, and we await a harsh winter...
stock up on shovels and salt, keep your driveway and sidewalk snow-and-ice-free;
will you get help from your kids when snow falls...having you think of electric bills?
No, let them play and have fun...their blood is hot and they feel no chills!
And should you think of joining them, drop your shovel as if stung by a bee!
Which other way is there to endure the wintry weather living as an Alaska bear?
It was late into the night
When Bert Ernie and I
Were traveling across the plans of Nebraska
Much to my surprise
Bert looks me straight in the eyes
And says Mike, I gotta question to ask ya
With Big Bird wrapped up in the trunk
You'd think that he'd already thunk
About this night long before it already happened
When we took Oscar the Grouches can lid
And whacked Big Bird smack dab in the head
Then tied him up tight while he was napping
We rolled him out to curb
Believe me it looked quite absurd
Ernie grunting with Bert complaining as feathers went flying
But as would be our fate
Able to make our planed escape
When Count Von Count took time out to do some feather counting
So this is now where we are
Bert, Ernie, Me, and Big Bird in the trunk of our car
Not really knowing where it is we are heading
Our thinking went only as far
As nabbing Big Bird and the get away car
Putting Ernie in charge wasn't such a good idea is what I am betting
Ernie says he's figured it all out
Bert says we need this, but still has his doubts
Cause Bert owes back pay alimony and Ernie his bookie
We head to Ernie's planed drop off spot
And of course it's swarming with cops
While our inside man " The Monster " gave us up for Cookies
They let Big Bird out of the trunk
Who proceeded to slap us punch drunk
Then straight to the judge to pay for this hideous crime
I can't think of any worse fate
I now know this was a fatal mistake
The sentence...
Banished to Sesame Street for life, now that is hard time
One more day on this cursed planet,
One less day in this infernal nightmare.
I chase after fleeting vanities,
Like an addict searching for a joy locked inside me.
I will spend yet another entire day behind a desk,
Counting the hours and the days for a salary
That prevents me from fulfilling my fantasies.
I will keep my eyes fixed on a computer screen,
Like a zombie bound to misery.
A vile coffee, a few cigarettes,
A sandwich as a calorie bomb,
And an energy drink to endure this torment.
Forced to accept this slavery
So as not to sink into poverty.
After this destructive routine,
I will once again write ramblings
To rid myself of the blandness of this dreary daily life.
I have some bills and alimony to pay.
The Parisian sky is as gray as the rats of the Trocadéro.
Scenes of horror repeat endlessly,
The same speeches, the same wars, the same victims.
They say the Earth is warming,
But the hearts of humans are growing cold.
I am always in a foul mood,
Everything disgusts me in this chaotic dimension.
But I still lack the courage to shorten
This miserable life I received for free.
I am condemned to sit front row at my own decay.
My vigor abandons me day after day.
I am on the train that takes me to the furnaces of hell.
I want to destroy everything, like those bloodthirsty tyrants.
I never had time to savor beauty or love.
Anger has spiced up the apocalyptic reality of my existence.
I am a paranoid allergic to human hypocrisy.
I have a sophisticated detector for treacherous souls.
I can no longer cry or laugh, I am simply angry.
My conscience is a minefield
Marked by convictions.
Life has never offered me roses,
Only thorns.
I crave darkness, stillness, and quiet.
I have never dreamed,
I simply do what I dislike
Since my arrival in this deathly dimension.
I tolerate neither betrayal,
Nor deceit, nor duplicity.
I will never have a pet,
I prefer the serenity of my solitude.
When Robert was a small child
he watched those brave cowboys
riding across the TV screen,
their exploits he enjoyed.
The horses, guns, and shinny stars,
the ever stylin’ hat…
It all spoke to Bob way deep down,
he wanted to try that.
He wanted to be a cowboy,
the thought just made him grin,
Bob figured that when he was big
he could ride the western winds.
But when informed his parents
they smiled so sadly,
the wild west was now long gone,
an impossible dream.
Bob’s sister would just laugh at him,
as she painted her nails,
posted about her ‘redneck bro,’
how he was made of fail.
Bob couldn’t help but feel something
slowly dying within,
it seemed that there would be no chance
to ride the western winds.
And when he grew he went and did
the things folks expected.
He went to school, got a degree,
a job to keep him fed.
But he still felt something missing,
and more than once he thought
of running out west to a ranch,
that kind of job he sought.
But before he could his girlfriend
conceived a kid with him,
they were married and settled down,
no time for western winds.
Bob made good money at his job,
kept the numbers in check
for big companies on the move,
made sure the books were set.
He wanted to vacation at
a dude ranch way out west,
but when he told his wife this thought
she balked at his request.
She wanted a tropical beach,
a place to show some skin,
she’d rather lay out in the sun
then ride the western winds.
It was the same tale every year,
she cared not for his likes,
and used him as an A.T.M,,
he grew to hate his life.
He suspected her of cheating,
and she did not deny,
divorced him after seven years,
and the judge took her side.
Bob grumbled, but saw the freedom
he’d get form her great sin,
at least now he would get the chance
to go ride western winds.
But then came the alimony,
and lord it was a lot,
add into that child support
and Bob was left to rot.
He barely got to see his kid,
she wouldn’t keep the terms,
and the court didn’t seem to care
how this loss made him yearn.
He had to pay for a child
she taught to hate his kin,
and had not money for such dreams
as riding western winds...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
...Oliver had saved up the cash
to buy into his employer’s franchise,
bought his own store, aggressively courted
every rancher in the countryside.
Soon enough the cash flow was well in the black,
so Oliver and the bartender wed,
bought their own house and were soon expecting,
he cared nothing for what the people said.
Jack, still drinking, played the Hollywood scene,
was a fixture of the wild nightlife,
soon he was in the tabloids again
when he knocked up a girl he knew one night.
He managed to keep working in film,
supporting roles were the best he could get,
with alimony and child support
he found himself slipping into the red.
When he crashed his car into his front door
he was quickly shuffled off to rehab,
in what would be the first trip of many,
the addiction had a grip on him bad.
But still he managed to get some work,
and when folks saw his face on the air,
they’d look at Oliver, mumbling how,
“That brother never went anywhere.”
Now Hollywood is a hot-bed of rumors,
and a disturbing percentage are true,
soon tales spread of Jack’s early acting days,
and all the things a new actor has to do.
Rumors of giving favors to producers,
insinuations of oral sex,
some said that was why her drank so damn much,
and why relationships left him vexed.
Whatever the case, on the internet,
the rumors became an ongoing meme,
his reputation thrown in the toilet
by GIFs and infographics obscene.
Oliver, back in fair Nebraska,
really had no reason to complain,
he had three kids and sold big equipment
to half the ranchers on the Sand Hills range.
Nobody was making memes out of him,
no reporters were snooping through his trash,
tabloids were not undermining his marriage,
and he was making more than enough cash.
He had six stores and a seventh coming,
and a hundred acres tied to his home,
a life or both family and friends sincere,
the general public did leave him alone.
The only thing that could worry Oliver
was what would happen to his brother Jack?
How many stars had walked down that same road,
and how many of them had never come back?
Though Jack’s state would weight hard on his mind,
and hear feared to see him drowning in despair,
Oliver couldn’t help but laugh at the folk
who thought it was he who was going nowhere.