Long Butt on Poems
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In bewilderment I woke up in Jerusalem
They were talking about Jesus, and they were spooked.
He was way too wise for a twelve-year old, and
asking questions no one wanted to answer.
They were trying to figure out how to keep him quiet.
When I next awoke, a black cat was wearing my pajamas
He was a beatnik cat from the 60’s,
playing an oversized fiddle.
One of those big ones
that has to sit its butt on the floor.
Not being musical, I do not know the name of it.
It is not a drum or a cymbal, I know for sure.
A catalyst was this cat, in the movement toward peace.
He was the one who pushed for Dr. Martin Luther King’s
Nobel Peace Prize.
I was bewildered when he meowed me this surprising information.
I had only half been listening, playing chess with Nikita at the time.
Yes, Kruschchev. How many other Nikitas do I know?
I am only twelve. It is not like my folks take me on trips.
I have not been out of the state yet.
We talked about the space program,
and made a little side bet about it.
“America will pretend they have won the space race,”
he told me “But they lie.”
This made me mad, being an American.
I was a hopeless devotee of his, however,
For unlike my grandparents,
Kruschchev was kind, and let me win sometimes.
A close relative was talked into getting a pet once because he was a newlywed, and a sensitive guy, and he wanted to please his bride. She talked him into getting a cat. Within a year, he and his cat, Fat Louie, were inseparable. She had her own cat, Princess Lil, but was not as attached as he became. She had lots of pets, treated them like cans of milk, not like family.
A year after he got talked into Fat Louie, this young couple received some great news. They were getting a human baby to love and pet, so she decided he needed to get rid of both cats. Please bear in mind, she had no familial feelings toward Princess Lil, but he considered Fat Louie his best friend, and a family member. Fat Louie followed him everywhere, and parked his fat butt on his lap every second he was in the house.
So this sensitive guy, who had to be talked into loving a pet in the first place, who felt like King Louie was a part of his family, had to take his one and only pet to an adoption center. Sort of sad, but wait. It gets worse.
Fat Louise escaped within two days and made it back home.
It nearly killed this super-sensitive sweet guy to give King Louie up a second time.
They have several children now, and none of them have a pet. I wonder where she will take them if she gets tired of them?
If I could choose a form most grand,
A creature of a noble brand,
My secret wish, a silent plea,
Would lead me a smart cat to be.
A cat of humour, quick and sly,
With mischief glinting in my eye,
To my shrewd master, wise and bold,
Scented stories I would unfold.
I would purr a cute rumbling sound
As wisdom on each whiskered mound,
A gentle nudge, a velvet paw,
To pat my master soft and low.
I would leap on the highest shelf,
A king unto myself, by myself
And survey all with knowing eyes
Above my master`s lovely ties.
I'd greet him with a gentle rub
Expecting that he would not snub
And with soft head butt on his knee
Then curl up in his lap, quite free.
I'd teach him patience, slow and deep,
The talent of secrets to keep,
The quiet joy of watching birds,
Beyond the reach of human words.
I won`t wait for my master`s cue
To chase mice, old as well as new,
And with a flick of my striped tail,
I’d ensure my spirit doesn`t fail.
I'd practice my best funny face
Embracing every charming grace,
A wide-eyed stare, a goofy yawn
From dusk until the break of dawn.
I`d let my fantasy take flight
To charm my master, day and night,
A cat of laughter, wise and kind,
The truest solace one can find.
A lipstick stained Camel butt, on the full ashtray rim
A golden earring on the floor, how does this story begin?
The Smith Corona silent, paper stuck in the machine
When someone ripped it out they left a mess to clean
An air ticket on the floor, unused it would appear
What happened to the owner something’s wrong that is clear?
A telephone receiver burring on the desktop
No one put it down, the call they didn’t stop
A tissue on the floor, all shredded up and wet
A sign of great misery, a mystery still as yet.
A newspaper screwed up and thrown upon a chair
A missing child is found, she had better get out of there.
A body found, a Camel butt by her side
The car ran off the road, what a way to die
The madam of murder and mayhem will see daylight no more
And now the devil’s a waiting to open his fiery door.
A lady looking lost, approaches a child alone
She dangles one gold earring, with a pretty stone
This is for you child if, you but come with me
Another child is missing, didn’t anybody see?
One earring, one cigarette butt, but she didn’t work alone
Her partner in crime, a woman warned her on the phone.
Destroy the ransom note the child has now been found
The ticket is now no good, we must move underground.
For those unsure and there are some, Camel are a brand of cigarette.
©Mandy Tams
Continued:
So, there I was on the porch standing in shock
This Big Mama Bear sitting right in front of me
On her butt on the grass! Just feet away!
I thought something was wrong with her
It was a hot day, she was breathing heavy
I tried to open the door a little to get a photo
But my hands were shaking and my heart racing
As she moved, I couldn’t keep it steady
I was in a ‘once in a life time moment’ right then
I had never been so close to a bear that big
Then she got up and I realized she was ok
She turned around to walk across the yard
As I fumbled with the door still shaking….
I finally got a photo, from behind in the distance
-----As she entered the trees to leave---
----I said goodbye to my friends---
----Until next time---
Heidi Sands
6/16/17
The Sparrow
by Positive Mark
Torch-burnt quills never offer apology.
Scorched earth policies revive a dead polity.
Force fed intellects give rise to economy.
Those who don’t fit, I advise you to follow me.
First, let’s pay homage to walls that were climbed.
Put in the time, and you’ll shine like Coach Prime.
Kill or be killed at the devil’s insistence.
If you lack fortitude, strike from a distance.
Fiery orators once fit the bill.
Now, they’re a hallowed list of confirmed kills.
Dead at the podium.
Dead on the balcony.
Genocide rhymes have become the new alchemy.
Armies of men show their butt on the street.
Reeks of an old auction, selling Black meat.
Honest comedians cancelled for jokes.
This is the new definition of woke.
Now higher frequency thought has been shattered.
Shirts weren’t printed when Black lives still mattered.
No reparations for cultural rape.
Modern day poets ain’t bustin’ a grape.
Torches on quills that were once burning arrows.
Who watches you, when his eye’s on the sparrow?
the monster inside
wants me to hide
it wants to come out
that’s without a doubt
it rears its ugly head
filling me with dread
it tempts me to spiral
the monster’s gone viral
it’s going to get me in trouble
I can no longer stay in my bubble
I need to tame the beast
like an exorcism and a priest
it sees me when I’m mad
it likes it when I’m bad
it comes out when there’s jealousy
it hangs around like leprosy
I see it trying to get nearer
every time I look in the mirror
it tells me I’m not good enough
but I’m about to call its bluff
I see its horns, I see its claws
it tries to point out all my flaws
I see it’s stupid toothy grin
and it’s scaly brick colored skin
i grab it by its feet and take it for a spin
it says “I’m never gonna let you win”
I throw it across the room and say
‘time to go outside and play’
I kick its butt on out the door
“don’t worry I’ll be back for more”
I say “idc I’m not keeping score
you can’t control me anymore”
A Female senior leaving work
Walking the streets heading for the Doctor’s appointment
Suddenly lurks a Thug planning to pounce on the senior prey
It happened in seconds on that day
The Thug came from behind
Grabbed the female senior’s arm
Trying to take her bag
The female senior knocked the thug on his butt on the ground
The thug thought he could handle this senior, and made an attempt the second time
He got knocked down again, and ran like Raid spray being a punk
When will thugs learn?
Seniors are not always weak
That punk learned the hard way in defeat
A punk will always be a punk
Avenger senior took justice into her own hands
Don’t mess with any senior being victorious
That avenger senior was my Deceased Grand Mother
Being a woman of faith and strength
Endurance in going the length.
A collaboration by Tania Kitchin, Lin Lane, Jan Allison and me that was inspired by Charles Messina's recent POTD.
It's a pooper scooper; that's what we need
But I doubt they will willingly concede
It'll take jury and judge
for those who refuse to budge
No matter how many of us agreed.
Cara never wrote an honest line
Her poems just stink, they're not sublime
They all just reek like poo
Should be flushed down the loo
Needs to stop stealing poems online
Ken was so ill, thought he had a bad flu
And freaked out when he saw his poo was blue
He went to have some tests,
Praying his bowels rest
Told he ate too many berries, who knew
Poor Tania's cat pooped on the floor
Then wiped it's butt on the loo door
It's too late in the night
To see this poopy sight
Cat faeces in house folk abhor!
She lets her dog out for a pee
When under a bush she can see
A skunk ready to spray
She gets her dog away
Phew! no skunk spray on poor Ziggy.
I suggest the site be fumigated
For some who need to read it translated...
"People who post their poop
Don't belong in our group"
Hope this current trend becomes abated.
In the past folks wrote their own poetry
On display for the whole wide world to see
But many are quite sly
Use robots and AI
It's cheating and reeks of dishonesty.
Written on 4th September 2026
Why do people look at me
as if, I'm fruit from a poisonous tree
I'm not strange and wouldn't hurt a flea
yet they act, as if they see a killer bee
Avoiding eye contact, then running off
I'm brand new and not feed from a trough
I'm not beautiful, just a piece of fine art
take a look, you'll see, what sets me apart
I may look big but, I'm an average weight
When you pick me up, your fear will abate
You can hold me with your hand, to investigate
If you want to learn the truth, don't speculate
People segregate, perpetuate or regulate fear
Please let me educate you, about my sear
Put my butt, on your shoulder, and hold it there
As you learn, practice safety and always beware
I'm strong and powerful and benefit all mankind
Vision and sanity required, I can't read man's mind
I'm a new semi-automatic weapon with many a name
Man made, blame his greed, insanity for the shame