Long Chap Poems
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It’s A Stitch Up
I struck a match and the gas cooker did me
So a chap called Sidney gave me a kidney
I didn’t steal it and I didn’t beg
But a fellow called Clegg gave me a leg
My best mate Paul gave his left eyeball
But my uncle Jock gave nothing at all
Thanks to Steve there’s an arm up my sleeve
And the fact I can breath is hard to believe
But the praises I’ve sung cos Burt gave me a lung
Fall short of Fred Young who made me well hung
And so I thank Fred for my prowess in bed
But if it wasn’t for Ted, I’d still have no head
When I walk again I hope I will meet
The geezer next door who gave me his feet
Nobody knows who gave me my nose
But a guy up my street gave me all of his toes
Old Bobby Tutt gave me his gut
The rider from Pizza Hut gave me his butt
But how can I ever thank young Tommy Green
Who gave me his heart and his liver and spleen
But it seems all those people I never shall greet
For when the gas blew, it blew up the street.
Banjo man
I'm a banjo man
In banjo van
Around the town
I play
Picking strings
Singing things
In my banjo way
I play so fast
The strings go twang
Sometimes they even snap
But I just chuckle
As I play
Cause I's a banjo chap
I once was in a dueling fight
I played but I forgot
The strings I played
Began to glow
And the banjo got quite hot
I threw it down
And watched it burn
The devil came to see
I think you're great
Old banjo man
And new one gave to me
Now when I play
The strings stay cool
And people shout and cheer
I sing all day in Freddie bar
And drink a pint of beer
I have travelled
Round the world
I've even got a tan
So come and see anytime
Your friend the banjo man
Do we really want to talk about such things,
well, here it comes, in a slightly veiled form,
let's say on a professional basis, a medical oasis,
somebody has to do it - I'm glad it's not me.
It all started with private parts and finished,
let's say that all the enthusiasm had not diminished;
I was unfolded and folded back like someone
was making a sandwich - didn't matter, brown or white.
There's an option - easy one, fine and the other?
Well now, one can be transfixed, fleeting moment;
did it happen, yes - part of our system, you know,
there are limits - it's about as far as you can go.
Perhaps I should have considered medical harassment,
but the poor chap wouldn't like the embarassment.
I heard you in the walls
I think of you as a mouse trap
Trap for eternity, poor chap!
When it was us against the world,
I smile more, my laughter was contagious
Yours were thunderous, like a sense of warning
Of us being untouchable, unbreakable. Duet theme
That who we were!
Then bomb! Our trust was broken,
Our smiles and laughter seize
Our duet became three,
Three is an odd number:
I refused to divided you in 1.5
I heard you in the walls,
I think of you as a mouse trap
Trap for eternity, poor chap
I wish she was trap with you
But life can sweet and next mysteriously brutal
Life is a little plot of light. We enter, clasp a hand or two, and go our several ways back into the darkness. The mystery is infinitely pathetic and picturesque. ~Ambrose Bierce
Our Monday morning to reflect on your mysterious passing,
Death takes us all, all left for most of us is sour memories with a smile.
She loves me she loves me not...
Just my luck that when juiced a lad
din grammar school, aye own every
rhyme and reason tubby mad
every friggin time boyhood fingers
plucked petals off flowered daisy...
just as well, a relief and more than glad
tomb hiss out on doing the wild thang
and be'n totally tube yule lore lee baad
yea, how boring squirreled away
voraciously reading 'bout some cad
oh my dog...I too could write story
"FAKE" steamy extramarital liaison add
chocolate flavored Glynnis (Msgeegee),
whereby celibate chap goes stir crazy - egad
yours truly drives back to her pad
within sketchy part of West Philadelphia
starring as chief protagonist
none other then... yupper this dad
until caught with pants down (figuratively)
thine missus both angry at me and sad
I immediately unapologetic longed to gad
about even jetting setting off to Vlad
divest stock to escape wrath cull bile
daily spewed phlegm at me - wad
off by bajillion miles wife got poor aim
cruel colorful epithets coarse expletives had
filled beyond capacity to resist or tolerate
hence, yours truly sought to skad
had dude dull married life awkward fit
analogous, incongruous, perilous
why dead men don't wear plaid
they make no bones about
nor act self flesh deathly quiet
oblivious toward latest fad
mouldering into dust
whereby gravesites sprout weeds
mother nature's couture clad
eroded tombstone disintegrating
vanishing without trace
unremembered story...
unlike Odyssey and Illiad.
Today the Sunday special brief
iCloud online worship session, I did attend
(via remote support)
found me feeling pampered,
when adept technical support
didst figuratively bend
over backwards, thus aye defend
glorious, righteous,
and zealous Gurus who did expend
their religious fervor, without proselytizing
and sanctified dedication they proffered
as if this secular chap hapt tubby
a long time Facebook friend
diligently persevered amidst
my woeful yelping alarm
where bot sized wetbacks, setbacks,
and drawbacks,
required a secret char
which this netizen vaguely understood
as unfair be-tidings disallowing
thyself to purchase additional farm
ming out iCloud storage
in the deleterious harm
akin to buggy ah mush swarm
comprised documents
(painstakingly slaved over with zest)
plus sundry data necessitating mooch hoe
legal tender (probably every
last red cent of mine) to in vest
concerted efforts of
at least one expert to test
her/his mettle in an attempt
(dim prospect) performing an in quest
to retrieve valuable data lost amidst a nest
of inaccessible "lost" information
(bantering with computer
jargon more so jest
with no intention to "FAKE"
trumpeting minimal knowledge
judiciously impressed
upon thine fifty plus
shades of gray matter, at my be hest
expressing scant cumulative
disc cussing duff frag
minted understanding lest,
a personal goal
to incapsulate in poetic best
not abandoning frustration
with this Macbook Pro
cuz, positive experience
wrought with Apostles eye attest,
so rather then vent
my spleen in vein
hie desisted
to rage against the machine,
and tack toward being urbane
thus, rejoicing with a cherry,
hearty, and mighty byte hooray,
asper driving,
exercising, and foisting
gentle circuitry vis a vis
neurotransmitters and neuromodulators
nudging pull-ups
within cerebral terrain.
Sweaty Palms – Chronic Woe Renders...
Po' Whet Tick Dampened Curse = A
Worse Fate Than Death!
No idea when the incessant onset
of sweaty palms first burst forth,
nor why physiological symptom,
sans secretion spoils socialization
upon thy totally tubular handsome
grooves that criss cross the flat
skin surface of my hands. These
lines called 'palmar flexion creases'
develop before birth. This modern
day bipedal hominid i.e. human
primate attests (like the average
person) two main lines across the
palm but some have a single 'Simian
crease'. Profuse outpouring of
perspiration (as if Biblical Flood
gates opened) oft times directly
related to adrenaline coursing
through every pore sans the under:
side of my hands) reflexively
followed by swiping clamminess
(in vein) on clothing or woolen
pocket size cloth brought along
with me everywhere I go, (cuz
a lamb might not part ways
with mother Mary (of story
book fame), and this chap would
shear lee feel sheepish toting
extremely cumbersome to tote
in the event this intimation
predicated on decades worth
of experience, when in the throes
potential ordinary action re: guard
ding strongly shaking, grasping,
or holding hands took place
occurred sopping wet
clangorous human clapper,
(which frenzied trickling akin
to a vicious feedback loop),
my psyche feels under staccato
rat-a-tat siege from an enemy),
the natural inclination to with:
draw myself from “bad” company
of others helps stave of self-
consciousness. This avoidance
of socialization subsequently
impedes any promotion of hanker
ring viz genuine friendship,
employment and desiring care
free bona fide affectionate bond
ding with family of origin and/or
two precious progeny. Under:
standable, the human reaction
to shrink away and recoil quickly
when pressed to touch what feels
like a wet noodle. Ah…courtesy
Who knows whence the measurement
of time came about, though this chap
proposes the following general happen
stance. Perhaps psalm body named Judas
Priest arranged to congregate, but cohorts
restless (sans Quiet Riot), did Accept
a Mercyful Fate asper their Iron Maiden pact,
but needed to reassure doubting Tom us
(a petty detail), how to coordinate self
anointed Black Sabbath. An Idol Billy
Graham proposed a resolution (this
coincidentally enough would be calculated,
figured, and interpolated vis a vis
to happen on New Years Eve circa
unknown when. Some metal-heads
put their Smashface together, and contrived
a crude modus operandi, which in
vol vid each musician to crank up
and amplify to the max his instrument of choice.
No matter distance extant between
closest and farthest member, would be
barely faintly heard. The era re: these
bit players didst dabble with primitive
chronometers comprised hamlets a mere
shouting distance apart. Once a quasi
reliant (and affordable) methodology
evolved, one singer songwriter
upped the (space/time quantum theory)
ante by conniving, fostering (the village
people), inviting live onstage performances.
Quite a bit of fancy free footloose gimcrackery
reckoned to be sale-able to sell at audiences,
thus drawing a Crowded House. None
the less, there remained the confounding,
irksome, pesky quandary sans figuring precision
concerning how to segment morning
to night cycle. Perhaps the town nerd
might own the (get) smarts to tinker
satisfactorily until...PRESTO! The purported
impossible mission solved with refinement
propelling one geek after the other into
the klieg lights if only for a blink of an eye!
Dancing in his arms heart beating so fast
feelings flood through me as he holds me close
is he the one that in dreams was forecast?
I act cool, he smiles knowing its a pose
I smile back as he spins me round and round
we sit and talk the way new lovers do
to each other glad this love we have found
happiness to both of us long overdue
So in love although we recently met
our life's before us laid at our feet
The more we are together the less I fret
when he kisses me it feels oh so sweet
Passion rising overtaking us both
to each other turning pledging a troth
dedicated to my very best friend Lorraine and her new chap
written 02/11/2014
contest: Any Poem#4
I relish sparring repartee of clever quips...
Particularly, when voicing and/or
writing bon mots doth betake
chuckling clownlike me
rumbled stilled skin,
and e'en rouses
this mummified corpse
(asleep for bajillion years)
among sleepers awake,
where mine inside belly
doth pleasantly ache
jollity the best medicine
most thus spoke Zarathustra,
asper nonpareil persona
American radio broadcaster
Doctor Demento would attest,
one need not buy,
nor spend real or "FAKE"
money, yet brilliant come
back (as averred by
unnamed modest chap)
sweeter than New York cheesecake
moist definitely more
delectable than grubstake
jamming gobstopper with
yodels, ring dings,
or mouth size edible
chocolate candied drake,
a propensity for parrying
thrusts humorously recently
adopted, though occasionally
embarrass self,
and perhaps I might
momentarily even forsake
such wordplay, but
honing humorous turns
of phrases come roaring
back to partake, and
appease simple pleasure
inexplicably to satiate
passion with English
Language and slake
unquenchable thirst
experiencing euphoria,
vis a vis yours truly
melding, jump/kick starting,
forging, distilling
reasonable rhyme
(albeit short lived) giddy
as if I won sweepstake
this newfound affinity
with whittling words
manifested during opaque
throes of fatherhood,
when ceaseless parental
demands sought fast break
from learning to
accommodate lest stressful
overwhelming anguish
found me undertake
king oft times frazzled state,
where among great
anonymous dead poets
society, posthumous renown
would be small consolation
for widowed missus,
whose then two little girls,
(now grown to womanhood)
would inconsolably shake
for ever and anon drowning
their sweet sorrows,
where profuse tears
engender lachrymose lake.