Long Enterprise Poems
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Our religion forbids all
games of chance guys
We ain't allowed to
indulge in that harmful
enterprise
But no one can claim that
gambling is at all wise
To more has gambling
brought much misery
and misfortune
Trying your luck that
way brings bad luck to
this money goon!
So goes without saying,
no need of elaborating
that harmful and
addictive are casinos and
gambling
Quick money is the lure
but gambling is such an
addictive trap
Indeed a vicious circle it
is for sure
and you can 'bet' my
warnings ain't crap!
The casino wheel doesn't
always tip the scales in
your favour many times
bringing down people
from heights of
immense affluence
to the abyss of poverty
and monetary crimes
as gamblers act as if
'under the influence'
God only wished us to
not be thus corrupt
for He foresaw most
gamblers going bankrupt
To gamble is sin
and you don't always
win
You might end up losing
even the little you had
from bad to worse,
tycoon hero to zero, alas
too sad
I amn't uselessly rambling
Better stay away from
gambling
A compulsive gambler
frequenting the casino
might forever court ill-
luck you know
from slot machine back
to home, to and fro!
As to others his bucks
shall flow.
Someone decided to give me some advice on the art of writing the other day. He told me that I should only write about things I know. But I’ve lived an uneventful life. I found my soul mate at the ripe old age of 15 and we’re still blissfully married. I’m a veteran, but of no war. I’ve never had to fire my M16 at anything more than a paper target. I’ve always worked in jobs that paid far above what my education should have allowed. I was never molested, abused, abandoned, tortured by terrorists, or lost in the woods to be raised by spotted owls. I come from a very large and very loving family. Sure, I’ve made a few mistakes along the way but nothing that I would look back on with regret. What would I have to write about that might have any significance to the rest of mankind? Then I remembered, Tolkien never lived in Middle earth. Bradbury had never been to Mars. Gene Roddenberry couldn’t have piloted the Enterprise. JK Rowling never attended Hogwarts and Stephanie Meyer didn’t hobnob around with vampires or werewolves.
They say they know best
If they did, wouldn’t they do it
There’s no secret way
P and S was a meet and greet
Although they never thought about each other in the beginning
It was just a quaint introduction and nothing more
Suddenly words became virtues
P started to write poetry aspirations
S wrote inspirating sentences
Collaborations seemed to be forming together unknowingly to one another
Somehow intertwine became genuine
That’s when P and S knew they were meant to be
Poets at heart
Being their own alpha letters
Poetry became better and better
However, P and S needed to take their alpha letters and form an enterprise in a partnership
The thought being “POETRYSOUP”
What a combination
Together as a team
Smooth and Gentle
Nothing extreme
Streams through emotions
Words coming out
P and S the vowels of Poetry Soup
Full of um um good.
My clawed nails hover over library setups,
one is circumspect and so guarded,
where I quake eyeball entrapment mode,
with desktop oozing clever poly functions,
that limitless latitude bespoke of,
glowing brochure reference point,
as I adjust the red velvet cushion,
swivel seat design for comfort,
to buffer strained skeletal assembly,
the posture of my carcass inter alia,
composure, composition, connection,
apt for true romantic often dreamer,
I'll discover subtle prose and penmanship,
the fitting unfeigned worship word capture,
despite a cipher such as me at high helm,
that would bewilder straight from birth shrewd,
of that neat modern context sibling fashion,
but where and when must I attempt,
concentrate, have a stab, random shot,
whilst dour staff member's explanation,
of the obvious (to them) bizarre buttons,
array of digit stretcher obstacle extent,
and their tongue straining (at least to me)
cogency to this perfervid project soft spot,
in my judgement a prompt own enterprise,
under snug glow of one so deeply loved,
I wish to mould peerless pillow phrases,
in the parchment of a broad text field,
a blank vacuum outlier germane paddock,
inviting serenader ruby-rim pulse rhyme,
from doe eyed maven on solemn quest,
such as I to woo and weave opal gems,
purple moon of enchanted epic oaths,
that is shrouded linger oe’r poignant mutualism,
postcards, Christmas cards, birthday cards,
they are hearty plenteous in each type,
did I omit the jewel engraved anniversary?
if I did a paltry plea is mere trifling token,
for such incidental oversight benchmark,
yet I gaze bemused at such electric galaxy,
that coordinating camp dispensation on screen,
fondly touted as maximum customer choice,
dainty dots, divine dashes, hue stain icons,
one now has with ample deft adornment,
at disposal of this reluctant faint hearted suitor,
whose limp gumption might falter at first step
Melancolie
The August heat is hotter than other summer months
more lethal going in for the kill,
The olive trees gasp, bark crackles and leaves hang
lifeless, but the sun keeps on shining
I think of Norway. to be back to my hometown run
down to the park and remember the joy when
Stavanger became a modern town Cafe Alexander
where one could have a pint of beer without eating
a sandwich that has been the norm
The idea was to stop people from drinking alcohol
that was, in our narrow-minded society, a great sin
there were other places to go on a Friday, say
Inter cafe, but to get in after nine, you had to be a friend
of the doorman who wielded immense power but
was open for a bribe
Then there was a place called "Hunters Lodge." always
full, the dominating waiter at the inn, grew wealthy
taking bribes, keeping order his way, believing in
free enterprise.
It often rains in my hometown, and I refuse to carry
an umbrella, which is a defeatist sign giving into
the vagary of the weather.
As I walk on steep streets, I remember how sad I was
feeling like a loser and not finding the tune, I knew
was there only to get old and understand that I had
demanded too much of life, the not obtainable
perfection
BLESSINGS ON GRADUATION
Fresh Graduates! Congratulations!
Blessings and admiration
for your hard work and achievement.
Crossed the first fence
showing clearance
to step onward on commitment
of new journey on path of life
challenging every strife
with dulcet dream
to the full brim.
Continue batting in your field
till your dreams are not fulfilled.
May be your motto ‘My Life is mine,’
to access success and to shine.
Modern Generations hold higher intelligence.
But old Generations have genuine experience
to guide and advice: You analyze,
choose and judge on new enterprise.
But respect instructions from elders
to strengthen your shoulders.
Have firm faith to progress.
Be truthful and fearless.
Honest effort endless:
God stays in soul to bless.
04/04/21
' A Graduation Blessing' Contest by BJ Legros Kelley
'All Yours (Apr 20) Contest by Brian Strand
To all the MAGA minions, let me be clear and concise ...
Your loyalty is somewhat admirable, but its limits have
Been breached, by a man who's truth is vacant of any
Meaning, and void of substance or growth.
That being said, this legacy will share its history with
The criminal, as an enterprise where the law and justice
Would remind Americans of their greatness again,
By their oath.
The greatest hurdle that must be met is most difficult,
Where your eyes and mind awaken, and you realize
That you have been misled repeatedly by this movement,
And need to break the bonds of those false beliefs.
Now if you're successful in climbing off your high horse
And returning to reality... you might consider rebuilding
Some of the bridges you have burned, causing damages
That may never be healed, but we might save a few handkerchiefs.
Lastly, you may realize that the anger your group displayed,
Is but a fraction of the rage that people against you feel.
Due to a platform that aimed to discredit democrats and
Democracy, my independent, non-partisan position had dreams
Of twisting off heads and dumping loads down your neck,
And that's real !
I guess, a poet's answer
to most everything in life
is, more poetry! Broken
heart, write a poem.
Broken leg, a few more
verse lines to cast. Pipe
breaks, dog bites the neighbor
potential for poetic lines to
savor -- Poetry, poetry, blah,
blah, blah. Woe is me. Doubt
that I will ever be free, in clear
sanity, outside of poetry. Even
my prose, the twitch of my
nose monstrously shows the
presence and influence of
poetry. Bet my yellowish
urine flows are somehow leaks
of poetry. Though I guess, others
think there is greater mess, than
poetry. Ah!~ a potential business
enterprise: Poetry Scoopers! To
market to all you likewise impacted
Poetry Poopers.
Why do you do as you do
and not do as you don't say?
asked the journalist of the leader,
asked the child of her parent.
Because I like to help
and I do not enjoy recognizing myself
as a selfish hypocrite,
responds the leader
to writers of famous and infamous history,
respond therapeutic parents
to children writing compassion stories.
How do you know you are helping
and not helping retain a flawed toxic elitist system,
maintaining poverty of margins
far below wealth piling into too much power?
asked the cynical divestor
challenging this help-as-health investor,
asked the hurt and wounded child
challenging her health-confessing
professing irreligious monoculture.
I doubt I could help
without co-investing in flawed health with pathology
in both political and economic systems,
responds this wu wei leader,
responds this co-mentoring parent,
but what have you noticed
might help more
while collaterally hurting less?
It seems to me,
writes aging journalist
and systemic trauma informed WholeEarth Tribalists,
those plans and budgets and stories cooperatively researched and written
by and with and for co-investors
in our civil passion/pleasure trusting enterprise
sustain more healthy multiculturing mind/body wealth,
with less pathological neurosystemic backwash,
as compared to Business As 0-sum Usual,
anthro-absorbed profit monocultures
elitist Publican winning
to lose further uncapitalized
democratically needy
competitors against too-exclusive empowerment.
Why do you win/win extend co-empathy as you do
and engage compassionate communication
as you would become Earth's Beloved PeaceCommunity?
asked the exhausted leader of retiring generals,
asks indigenously co-intelligent MotherTrees
of their polyculturally extending forests
Root and crown
body and mind therapeutic
politically empowering/disempowering
enlightened/unenlightened economies.
Why do you inclusively co-invest as you do
and not empower what you don't communicate?
asked the journaling child
about her favorite MotherTree's
inter-religious Golden Rule
to optimize effective
and efficient co-governance.
As the early sun rises casting
Magenta upon the clouds
My heart's cherished enterprise
Is to feel the moment and be proud
The roosters crow down in the vale
Cindy meows close at hand
A grayness has settled 'pon the sky
Please don't in my heart land
Songbirds sing a soft sweet tune
They're still close and in demand
Do they know that cooler air is near?
Does God's plan they understand?
They don't worry nor do they fret
Each day there are bugs to fill
An empty stomach doesn't lack
Mankind has other needs so real
Mankind needs a relationship
Out of this world's busy life
A spiritual and emotional filling
One not based on human strife
The sun shines once again casting its
Illumination upon
Those dark clouds fluffy charcoal design
Wait, release raindrops, move on