Long Cheapest Poems
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Lesser-valued beef cuts, also known as value cuts, are flavorful and affordable alternatives to premium steaks, often coming from the shoulder (chuck) or hindquarters (round, sirloin), with popular examples being Chuck Eye Steak, Flat Iron, Skirt Steak, Flank Steak, Hanger Steak, and Sirloin Tip Steak, which are great for grilling, slow-cooking, or marinating to maximize tenderness and taste without the high price
we were so dumb when we were small or as children she said. My father had cattle horses sheep and pigs. My Daddy and his wife often became distant and strange. I found out later they had been cheatin on one another, Mi Step Mum stood in church one day and lied her bum to satan. A Ceannaidh came through town one friday morning. He knew we had sold chickens to market and made a deal with some steaks , beef steaks so he said. Dad had been out in the woods looking for our horse who had rum away four days prior. The Ceannaidh came through and mi mum cited how handsome and attractive the fella was. She went into the barn to show him where she wished to store the meat. She had a meat storage area there in the barn. They were out there for so long I remember. Hours later she came back a mucky mess, with straw in her hair and her clothes in such a way. They put the meat in the barn and the fella left. I remeber dad leaving for a conference in twon days later so they said. The fella came back to follow up on deal I guess. They'd spend so long in the barn weighing the options. I later found out that Pah had lost a bet and called the fella with the cheapest meat around to come to sell us the meat. But Mi dearest Brutha said that someone told him Pah had bet on the boat races and lost. So instead of sell the cattle and buying meat, he harvest the horse and ate the meat. He let Mum have a frolly with the Stud to avoid her divoicing him.
The saver
He began saving money when 15 years old, liked to see
his bank account grow, not for him to spend money on
restaurants, drink beer with friends.
He inherited his mother`s house, repaired it cheaply by
stealing materials at building sites; he was rather proud
of how little it had cost him.
He had a small investment that paid him a small sum of
money once a year, and in his bank account, it went.
Needless to say, he lived alone a wife costs too much,
wanting this and that, so he visited elderly women who
didn`t want his money only a bit of love.
Then one day, he was eighty lived on potatoes and
cabbage all his life and the cheapest of wine, but he was
too old to spend money now; a lonely millionaire
who only read the bank statement the bank sent him.
Remember that kid who followed you around
Or sometimes led you by the hand?
Who kept you up nights with impossible questions
About mysteries that no one can understand?
Then one day, he up and locked his door
And said, "Keep out – this room's only for friends."
And then it happened you weren't asked to play anymore
And you realized you'll never be loved again
Remember that girl who laughed at your jokes,
Who reached for your hand in the back of the car?
Who listened intent to the wise way you spoke
And staggered home tipsy with you 'neath the stars?
Then one day, the smiles departed her face
And in their place, boredom and impatience rushed in
Next thing you know, lock's changed to the house
And you found out you'll never be loved again
Love comes fresh and fierce, like a comet, like a baby
It lights up your sky and rattles your world
From the cheapest pop songs to Spenserian sonnets,
It narrates your days and you learn every word
Then the novelty sags, the allure wrings dry
The well begs for water, but the drought never ends
Fetch the bucket for tears from the nights that you'll cry
'cause you know you'll never be loved again
Some ten years ago, a business owner went to bid for a cleaning job. Her's was a cleaning service for both private and commercial properties. This was a private property, and part of the conversation went like this:
Potential customer: "Our last cleaning service charged us $50 per clean." Reply: "How did you ever let her get away?" "She moved from the area", was his response. The bidder then said, "We could never do this job for $50. Perhaps she was not liscensed, had no insurance, and paid no taxes. She takes the cash and moves on. We have far more overhead. And furthermore, we never try to be the cheapest. We work hard at being the best".
The business lady did not get that job, because the homeowner was looking to buy the "Cheapest Service", and the business owner was looking to sell
the "Best Service".
07212017FBPS
Eating a bowl of Post Shredded Wheat
Is like eating big clumps of dead grass
Now I know why horsies simply can't wait
For the time between meals to pass
We feed 'em this stuff to reward these guys
Has anyone asked them their thoughts?
Might be surprised at the answer you'd get
“We'd rather be eating smelly socks”
Someone once said many decades ago
It will give your kiddies strong bones
So we feed 'em horrible clumps of dead grass
It's why they can't wait to leave home
Don't be fooled by this marketing ploy
It's the cheapest damn stuff they can find
It grows in the field almost everywhere you look
They must think we don't have a mind
Post Shredded Wheat, what horrible stuff
It's not fit for human consumption
Please sign my petition to ban it forever
Surely has no value that's my assumption!
Words Not For The Faint Of Heart
Commemoration for those gone before
Affectation of all you continue to adore
Altercation at the start of a burgeoning world war
Annihilation of the injured, innocent and poor
Commensurate collusion of the parliamentary debate
Irreverent confusion at the celebration of the state
Degenerate delusion as they refuse to integrate
Protectorate protrusion while the masses consecrate
Augmentation of the algorithm just to watch you bleeding concentration
Abdication of the firm decision to be needing an invitation
Applications that are stern in their derision of the cheapest imitation
Admiration of the vision that requires an invocation
Cosmological wonder at the formation of a star
Chronological plans asunder as the organisation takes things too far
Pedagogical pathways go under like the motorisation of the car
Methodological melodies make thunder as the applause acknowledges every bar
Broken by the aftermath of all this rhythmical thinking
Woken by a polymath of history missed while I was blinking
Spoken words meets sociopaths inside a ship that’s sinking
Token forms of telepathic silence that sees me winking
Altercations of a race in danger from dawn to dusk to midnight fire
Annexation of a border to cross when life inside becomes too dire
Amputation of a limb that has begun to gangrene and expire
Affectation that is over the top as my neurons need to rewired
By Elizabeth Moroz copyright
Better Than Best!!!!!
_______________________
Ruther Casttill a pension schemer, and retired
Dairy farmer: who married Lilly Coa Dang's daughter who is one of
Adebayo Ackah 16 children. My name is Trevor Slocombe.
Ruther Castills great grandson who lives his fathers and grandfathers legacy of being a four cow dairy farmer.
Making money the cheapest way possible. When he heard
Drollery the Ampestic Poet: he responded in song
the sounds of rhythmic music made the people dance. His voice crooned and soothed while a loving audience applauded and sounded
to the Tower Toned background sung to perfection.
He sang
"That perfect Day" with original sounds composed by folk who wanted music to make
uninspired people feel like the first note began the newness from frustrated place. Much more than those "Ooh Baby songs" of yesterday.
"We love them too" and ya'll know "we got something going here"!!!!!
"WE got Sumthang Going Here"!
Writt
"Smoochie"Plutus Bisento
Composer: Conductor: Crooner: Lover!
Cantor Extraordinaire
_______________________________
A supper of
Crown of Pork
with a cornbread stuffing
and saucage gravy
I curled into a ball andwas overwhelmed with
a feeling of satisfaction.
: while
I sipped Cotes du Rhono
listening to this sexy -woman including me
in the next few days!
I don't want Aliens
buying U.S. business,
but please stand back
while I buy up all your cheapest busyness
for International Made In America Trumpism.
Colonialism,
like Trumpism,
should work only one way,
which,
as everybody of importance knows,
is my imperialistic,
not much empirical,
Royal Way.
I also don't want your poor
and uneducated immigrants,
and certainly not their ungainly families,
but please keep your rabble back
while I visit your capital investments
to infest my glorious smog
embracing short-lived climates of pathology.
Enculturation,
like facts,
should only work
Made in Triumphalist U.S. way,
and if anything were ever true blue and White,
and not at all red, patriotic made,
it is my great transitional
ecopolitical
Trumpian UnHealthCare Way.
(William Hammer, Thomas Alva Edison's assistant,
has reached the end of his tolerance. His boss is
planning to electrocute an elephant for a publicity
stunt.)
If he goes through with this, the dam has burst.
I'm done with him. Of all the tricks he's pulled,
this is the lowest, cheapest, cruellest. Worst.
Yes, Edison. He can't be serious,
can he? To execute an elephant?
He's out there, grinning like a Barbary ape.
Where two or more newspapermen are gathered,
Alva loses all his self-control.
He'll be there now, perspiring, shouting, lathered,
excited to his flinty, vulgar soul.
I'm William Joseph Hammer. Who are you?
A quarter-century I've spent with him,
but now the scales have fallen from my eyes.
The man's a pirate and a charlatan.
Inventor? Him?
Well, since I'm stranded here
in shabby Coney Island in the rain,
ignored and slighted, spited yet again,
I'll tell you. Edison did not invent
the light bulb - that's what he employed me for.
Besides, I'll name a dozen scientists
who'd made a working lamp some years before.
What is he good at? He's a patent-mill!
He takes out patents like a dentist, teeth
(except that dentists never put their name
on what they've pulled). The man has got no shame.
The team has all the talent, he the grin:
we think the thoughts, and Alva cashes in.
I think he's met his match in Westinghouse.
The so-called war of currents. Who will win?
America will buy one set of goods,
and where this country leads, the others go.
To get his system in American homes,
He'd kill his grandma.
Hence this all-time low.
He's worse than Czolgosz. At the very least,
the latter had nobility, although
misguided. Alva has no other cause
beyond himself. Those motion picture-things
are here for Alva's glory. When the blow
extinguishes that poor beast's life, you'll know
whose self-promoting hand was on the tiller.
Saint Thomas Alva Edison's a killer.
Whiskey Lips So Sublime
Whiskey Lips step now over the line of true fire-water,
As a warm-burning brings forward one glowing sign.
The golden mead of sweet mountain dew appears now,
As each golden drop sighs it moment of escape and as
The alcohol signals and sparks the wildest of spirits in
One’s own true self!
This moment of sublime ecstasy excites and sparks your
Deepest inner-spirit and you begin to slur and sing loudly,
As your mind begins to reel from the drunken delight of
Your very own intoxicating breaths—noble, yet stupid,
As you become drunken forever under each psychic sip
You taketh from the deepest pool in the very depths of
Your eternal soul!
Your very eyes now glaze over a breathless message
You have found in the cheapest of whiskey bottles.
Saying a divine prayer to Almighty God Himself,
You open the bottle cork now and take notice that a
Little genie pops out of nowhere and begins to take all
Three of your mythic wishes granted together into one!
With that, this little genie shall begin dancing and singing
An ancient Irish whiskey song in your presence into the
Wee hours of the morning until you both pass out and fall
Into a drunken stupor with your whiskey lips so sublime!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – July 23, 2018
(Free Verse)