Long Beady eyed Poems
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Upon the first date (decades ago) with the gal,
whose troth aye did pledge allegiance to wed
we agreed to dine at an ex-mex eatery
in north Wales, Pennsylvania, where angels feared to tread
carefully scrutinizing bon appétit the menu selection,
a touch of Latin lick QED
all American version sans south of the border cuisine –
Quod Erat Demonstrand – translations spit out in rapid fire Hispanic
by a beady eyed inked kid named Ned
whose couture favored a punkish style
with spiked gelled green hair, piercings galore and
necklace with a genetically modified sizable
entombed glass encased amber ked
which beastly fully intact organism with a miniature grisly bear like head
momentarily hypnotizing me tell nudged out of trance sans this egghead
who make a selection by randomly
landing finger on an item feigning to be well bred
unbeknownst to the arbitrary choice this senior made
within an ample number of mouthfuls
of beans and rice that quelled hunger pangs
mine lower gastrointestinal tract,
felt a bubbling sensation played
though impropriety struggled with gaseous mounting perturbations,
what promised to be hot malodorous, would induce an air raid
from this “wind bag”, whose saving grace divine, when wallet of suede
discover herd visa vis tubby devoid of cash, thus and excuse to beat the tirade
of volcanic eruption found me bolting
out the restaurant door fortunately not waylaid
and madly dashing (like some comet fiery dancer)
performing a cheeky number hopping on one foot than the other –
since forceful blast triggered kidneys to be tapped, thus prancer
two step extemporaneously incorporated while await the ATM to disburse cash
legal tender coveted akin to Cupid sprinkling spell of romancer
while expulsion of noxious fumes from thine sphincter from this hob er dasher
brought relief as aye nonchalantly strolled inside
the cozy diner and slipped into me seat
disinclined to relate vents to future spouse,
the bodily aeration and stream of urine from me magic flute
which amazingly synchronized with the Maximus glute
from consuming food triggering tushy to toot.
Listen for the rustling sound
of the beady-eyed belly crawlers
deceitful serpents slithering on the ground,
flicking a two-forked tongue and hissing.
They should be heeded as a dire warning
when tempting us as if to say,
"Ssssssss..." they whisper, "Come hither."
Through tall meadow grasses
and across lawns and garden soils
they leave a trail of body wriggles
as rippled footprints.
Lying quietly in wait until
we're near to take a bite when startled.
They inflict pain... physical
and if a creature of duplicity, like Satan,
known for his trickery,
being bitten will have a different connotation
They can be found sidewinding
across desert sands seeking shade.
But warm sands hold another who commands...
the scorpion who claims the desolate land
as its home and is not willing to share.
The stinging tail of a crawling eight-legged one
is a weapon the serpent must consider.
Cleverly it lurks in treacherous shadowy places
trying to avoid the wrath of the desert Kahn.
The serpent and the scorpion,
reptile and deathstalker
dancing together until it ends in an embrace
but not one of sweet surrender
They race to combat, a battle to choose a winner,
Venom from a stinging tail and a stabbing bite
One the victor, the other a feast called dinner
But beneath the moon's golden glow,
carefully perched atop a saguaro
Is the sage one who boldly watches,
biding time with its keen eyes.
An owl lets the stinger and hisser fight
until the flap of its widespread wings
indicates his hunger has waited long enough
to be sated... something both should dread.
Take flight great owl, when day gives way to night
Good hunting to you as you choose your prey
Dive with pinioned wings and your fearful screech
Pointed beak at the ready to pluck on the flesh
Will your choice be serpent or scorpion,
the feast you dine upon tonight?
When the woollen industry died,
the reservoir that fed the old mill,
became disused.
The water meadow at its head
became a swamp.
Developers,
who want to build houses everywhere,
take one look at the quagmire,
sniff the stench fouled air, and walk away.
The channels are long blocked.
The drains are long broken.
So a freed, unmanaged, unmanacled nature;
binges on the anarchy of liberation,
brewing a brackish broth of sweet stagnation.
Children are warned to stay away
from the deadly, dangerous, disease
ridden slough.
Lest the Knucker Dragon, swamp devil,
swallow them whole.
Bulrushes,
point brown accusing fingers to the sky,
blaming the heavens for their
muddied becoming and placement.
Blood worm larvae,
orphaned Fly Nymphs,
ravenous in the root and stem of grasses;
greedily gorge without discrimination,
where cannibal repast; is often a relation.
Herons, are shadows that pass over,
heading for the cleaner waters below.
Snipe scutter
in the soft mire, poking for grubs.
Busily burying beaks in the
flowering Bogbean, and Hogweed:
Yellow Flag Iris,
and Ragged Robin,
rampantly roar a rich cacophony of colour.
Beady eyed, scruffy small,
fat water vole.
Mining leerdammer labyrinths in the banks,
faring fine on favoured vegetation,
prosperously multiply in stinking habitation.
Yes, Life Crumbled At His Feet Like Decay On An Old Log
Yes, life crumbled at his feet like decay on an old log
that morn was abjectly eerie had a low moving fog
and in the distance a low murmur rolled on in
In that bleak little world, in the country road a dead dog
Whilst in the teeming city was the ever present smog.
The dirty man was tall, beady eyed and almost blind
one could surmise may he was out of his hair raising mind
his apelike features like so much splashed on barnyard paint
In that washed up world, was there room to ever be kind
Or heaven help us, any leeway to relieve workers that grind.
Why does such mysterious manmade happenings so abound
is it earth is dying or rare truth never to be found
should Godlike justice appear to rear its judgmental head
Justice is too often at buried like snakes in the ground
And lay there like a useless orchestra playing no sound.
Yes, life crumbled at his feet like decay on an old log.
That morn was abjectly eerie had a low moving fog.
Robert J. Lindley, dec 17th 1983
Rhyme
The promises fell
as excuses became,
the voice of the man
who is casting the blame
While off on vacation
these moment to share
Informing the masses
he hadn’t a care
“It comes from another
who made this design,”
he mumbles and stutters
in televised time
“Do not look at me
for I haven’t a clue
It is obvious now from
the scenes out on view”
“The pipeline I stopped
and the border is free,
but this is much different
you cannot blame me”
So now as they die
harshly falling from planes
Their old way of life,
not a fraction remains
The enemy now holds
the key to the vault
Yet still he insists
it’s another man’s fault
“I’ve stopped everything
he had put into law
But this I choose not for
you can’t have it all”
He has no regrets,
the one truth he has told
While winking at China,
his soul quickly sold
He sits in his chair
with a beady eyed leer
Counting his yen for the
buck does stop here
The Afghan people have been betrayed as this weak and ineffective President vacations.
Oy, he has the answers to all!
He is psychiatrist, pollster,
Self-righteous, pompous
And that will be his downfall.
Beady-eyed, he is just waiting for you.
A snake charmer who loves to destroy a poet or twenty-two!
When you see him slither down Poetry
Soup Lane,
Better watch out for he is verified, hurtful!
He will humiliate you, and tryto swallow you with, sharp, famous fangs.
I have been bitten, boy, do I know!
He is coming to poison you with his intelligentsia show.
His name, not signicant, his heart cold
as ice.
You will know when you have been bitten,
as he shreds poets like Wuhan rice.
Your poetry, your feelings mean little to
him.
So many of you already think his demeaning
others , is delightfully quite in?
You best not ever disagree with this snake,
He will turn and humiliate you as a fake.
Best ask his permission before you post.
Or you will be a joke, no kidding ,the most?
7-5-2021
Call me Gillespie
At the thought of choosing sides
This all makes me Dizzy
Where ones befuddled and the other lies
White toothed grinning alligator
Beady-eyed crocodile
Which will we regret later
We'll find out for sure after awhile
One to build a wall to keep us all
Safe from those who want a home
The other swinging doors wide open
Sweeping out deplorable's
Reading from the dictionary
They would make a lot more sense
Starting out with the B's
Blah, Blah, Blah, He said, She said
I wonder when we the sheeple
Will stand up and call their bluff
Give this all back to the people
Finally say enough's enough
Is this the best they have to offer
Who's to win this losing game
Will it be the constant cougher
Or the billionaire that's clearly insane
Sadly, this crazy train needs a conductor
To carry this fragile freight
Watch out for the Loco-motion though
As we jump track on this runaway
Raven’s Shadow
Staring beady eyed
Collecting for winters nest
Natures unique post
Silky shiny black
Dawn-to-dusk itinerant
Multitasked creature
Suave wings casted wide
Full shadow imprint on moon
Solo transporter
Beak fluid sounds
Winter snow cloaked by congress
Envy your freedom
© Shane Cogan 2013
Feathers gather on the wing
Sore with precision in their flight
An updraft lifts the beady eyed visitor
A hunt begins on hunger pangs of black
Grows from the dawn of times survival
Launched into action with the talent of God
Towers over the enormity of sky
Preys on darkness unencumbered
Leads the falcon on to his devices down
Stretched out on yellow talons sharp
In sight, laser vision pinpoints a target
Stars scream out in covered night
Something glistens on the shadowed ground
A woodland creature squeaks out in pain
All goes quiet at the strike in silence
A victim falls dismembered as a meal
When distracted on the moment of the kill
Longshanks drainpipe and whistle through the day.
pterodactyls got it easy in this wide-open sky,
they glide too far up to be real anymore.
The beady-eyed slinkers that wriggle under our plodding boots,
they also avoid the earthshaking heaviness of light sleepers.
Beyond the curtains, a plastic pelican
has got its bill and belly stuck on a satellite dish,
now we can only receive small-minded thoughts in a soup bowl.
Strong winds are disrupting sleep patterns,
static pictures can only take baby steps or crawly shuffles.
Leggy winds go out to play in front of green screens,
illusions, made to promote the good-looking and perky.