Long Eskimos Poems
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How shall we get there? Mr. Snowman asked his wife.
She knew everything; she had not led a sheltered life.
We shall find a candy cane, it will take us to him she said.
They finally found one that was willing, all white and red.
Hop aboard! Invited the willing candy cane taxi cab.
She held still for them on a pinecone cement slab.
Santa’s Village please, Mrs. Snowman told their Uber ride.
She whisked them up and away in a swoop and a glide.
They passed igloos and the Eskimos came out and waved.
They passed a polar bear who had been deliciously caved.
They arrived at Santa Village in record time.
It’s Christmas said their Uber. She would not take a dime.
Up in the northern hemisphere,
Eskimos inhabit.
There,a certain Eskimo is.
Fair and thick-skinned,
particularly short- heightened.
Agile,brave and enterprising.
Clad in a flurry jacket,
this Eskimo dashes out into the snow
through a route he plies daily,
whistling, la,la,la....la,la,la!
Soon,he returns with a trolley,
a trolley filled with fishes gasping for breath.
Right behind his igloo,
la,la,la.....la,la,la! ,this Eskimo whistles,
as one in a high spirit,
whisking one egg and then,another.
La,la,la...la,la,la!
This Eskimo whistles
as he fries his fish sausages.
La,la,la....la,la,la!
This Eskimo hares into the streets,
parading the lanes,
knocking at one door to another.
La,la,la.....la,la,la!
"Come buy my hot sausages",he sings.
MR GREEDY
Mr Greedy could not eat any more
His bulging stomach was swollen and sore
Needed hospital care
But he couldn't get there
Cos he got wedged in the frame of the door...
SPOILT BRAT
A spoilt young daughter was having a moan
Santa didn't bring the latest I phone
Her dad said" hand me that
You ungrateful young brat"
And sent her off to her room to atone...
MA KELLY
Eighty year old Ma Kelly passed away
Her mean family didn't want to pay
So they filled her with concrete
Then put supports on her feet
And sold her as a statue on ebay...
SINBAD
For twelve camels Sinbad purchased a wife
But she gave him lots of grief and much strife
Tried to give her away
All his friends they did say
"A wife's not just for Christmas but for life" ..
CLIMATE CHANGE
Eskimos igloos started to buckle
Global warming for them is big trouble
They got home one day
And to their dismay
Their village had turned into a puddle...
NEW YEAR
If you go out celebrating new year
Do go easy on the whiskey and beer
Make sure you drive slowly
Cos you don't want to be
Stuck in a snow drift right up to your ear...
Written 30th December 2019.
Better still if you're driving DON'T DRINK.
Happy New Year to all.
When winter months become morose
And everything around is blue and froze
Gets disheartening even for the eskimos
Their morale starts to dwindle and decompose
They tread most lightly on cautious tippytoes
For fear their neighbors will become bellicose
They bite their tongue rather than use such prose
As ‘up your nose, my friend, with a rubber hose’
It is uplifting to dream of colorful scenarios
Any warm place where the blazing sun glows
Where the desert air gently blows
While ocean waves roll in sultry rows
All agree a trip down south would be most grandiose
Trading bikinis for their parka and heavy winter clothes
By pools they’d feign being divinely comatose
Drink in hand adopting the hot vacation pose
Stretched out on their hammocks eating pistachios
Laying back being busy counting colored rainbows
Hey CabanaBoy we’d truly really hate to impose
But would you please massage us from our head to our toes
Before their fair skin burns and redness undergoes
They all head back to their respective bungalows
Wondering should they dress go catch one of the shows
Or rest in bed before calling on one of the local rodeos
While visiting the souvenir shop one decides to propose
To send home a postcard showing tropical buzzards and flamingos
With a heartfelt message that needs not be verbose
For sure they’ll be the envy of both our friends and foes
AP: 1st place 2021
The Reflection of light to..
A sanctimonious imposed Tyranny,
A stifling Medical spellbinding idiocracy,
Of a State Sanctioned Nihilism that couldn't stand the irony,
Sycophant Pagan philistines,
consume all that doesn't move,
Our Impetuous gullibility
now notwithstanding,
We cannot though argue,
nor in fact - disprove,
But however your view, with all of today's branding,
Perception means nothing if we cannot then see,
Whatever it is that they
Are not selling
Trading Eskimos for ice;
the cretinous oligarchy
..remains hidden not telling,
Worse perhaps still - to never suffice,
Yet robbed of innate and perceptive feeling,
Why should anything ever
then have
Any sort - of essential meaning..
If all we concede to, all that we are..but through different lenses,
And all that we do to follow;
Nulls and Diguises the natural senses, for mass promised false healing?
Though it is through the senses that we realise the self,
It is against spiritual wickedness that we now wrestle,
As disregarding this; Man as a dumbed down empty vessel,..
An Idiocy to Sanitise his Authenticity,
Only to always avoid, becoming intellectually honest in wealth,
Any mistaken identity of that which is you..
Return in full circle in assuredness and to knowing, but not so, to being aloof,
Prepared with no more waiting
An abrupt end to dismissal,
More to the point 'tis
a self evident proof,
If I did not tell you, I would not be honest
Our practice makes sense for perfecting the truth..
In your Eyes, If it was not
a whisper, of a lost
Tangible promise..
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
23rd Feb 2022
During covid 19 lockdowns
The PoetTree
Awaken Poetry. Awareness Poetry. Geopolitical. Philosophical. Music. Shared
An Arctic fox casts a shadowed glance
Sideways on the frozen glassy lake, slipping
Pigeon like, gingerly, through fractured light
Images of a swollen moon swallows up the night
Wanderlust for blood will keep him tracking
Hunger pain is cryptic in the savage beast
Frigid ice that slices through the birthright
Wild storms bring shivering numbing cold
Pain is cryptic as a scrimshaw man in ivory
Carving out a living after the sea gives up its own
Whale remains become an etching post for patterns
Frost bit hands work the blade inside the bone
Cracked open long and wide like a spine or smile
Under the treeless forest of stretching flat lands white
Screaming winds will stop at nothing to fill in zeros frozen
A wolf howls but thunder is louder under the pillowed clouds
Muffled hollow, drowned in the secrets found
Whispered outside where survival holds wolf to his fur
Somehow tempest gales grow angrier in the fractured arctic
Unpleasant voices are never heard again in winter sounds
About the hour of midnight around the ice house
Carved out of snow, rounded all about
A humble mother with child hide inside the dome
Covered in leather, camouflaged in white
Eskimos stay safe and warm away from trouble
Bitter cold never grows old on glaciers
Fear not the tumbleweed or desert fire
Tropical seas are only a dream of better weather
Here on the badlands life is measured in ice
Not in pounds of gold or silver snow fox
A sliver of light from a lost sun is peeking
Nights last forever under moon’s tutelage
Under the working blade confused by day
Cutting away summer from winter is a man
Carving out an igloo or whale bone tooth
Etching a future where fingers go numb
Light becomes a figment of the imagination
As a diminishing sun, a distant star fades away
Mother prepares Eskimo blubber pie for supper
Where Are My Winter Jackets?
It's freezing cold here,
Where are my winter jackets?
It's snowing out there,
Where are my winter jackets?
The golden sun is gone on a leave,
Where are my winter jackets?
The walk paths are narrowly paved,
Where are my winter jackets?
The leafy plants are heaped with ice,
Where are my winter jackets?
The village well is frozen,
Where are my winter jackets?
The pond at the farm stead is glaced with blocks,
Where are my winter jackets?
The cacti are barely seen,
Where are my winter jackets?
Ants and hovering insects are gone out of sight,
Where are my winter jackets?
Flying birds cuddle in thicker nests,
Where are my winter jackets?
Eskimos peep out of their igloos with wide grins,
Where are my winter jackets?
Penguins parade on the sea shores,
Where are my winter jackets?
In a friendly city,Shoreview,Minnesota,in cottages,residents hide,
Where are my winter jackets?
On the busy streets of Queens,New York,buying et selling,mild,
Where are my winter jackets?
And clearly, I see winter is here,
Where are my winter jackets?
Don (ta) Ask Me 'Bout Exacerbation Of Trumpeted "FAKE" News
written September 19th, 2018, and following words still ring (more true) today – exactly six years later.
The then forty fifth prez
of United States of America
best get sent packing
to Lake woebegone
forced to coexist amidst University
of Pennsylvania Dutch
men in breeches
(May Apple lie)
swampy netherlands awash
with bipedal hominid
sucker punching leeches
where within every
whirled wide webbed
nook and cranny
Nietzscheism reaches,
and survival of fittest
iz basic credo,
and dogmatic ethos,
analogous to an apprentice teaches
a most frightful distortion of facts
and make up mistruths
indiscriminately bandied about
said alarmist blatant LIES
blithely stated with dangerous clout
appearing oblivious and totally
clueless without a doubt
punctuating with doubt Thomas
pettifogging questionable details
FALSE exclamations
generating fear with mindless
ignorance exaggerating protocols
as he doth emphatically flout
begetting, engendering,
and inflicting emotional gout
nothing accomplished by
hash tagging him a "LOUT"
and more opprobrious affect
would ensue anew
undeservedly praising him,
whose animus toward
Democrats would brew
but no matter what (tick)
tack toe taken,
he got nary a blue's clue
about vital issues,
which lack of insight
even Scooby Doo
would agree, heck the Americans
may as well install an emu
with more positive
forthcoming results,
cuz dis dope head like hellacious,
ludicrous, pernicious evils
in Pandora's box flew
his every actions
destroying essential glue
that sets this country apart
approximating Democracy, where hue
mans comprise melting pot,
whether Eskimos (er...
rather Inuits) in their
(fast melting) igloo
gentile, heathen, or Jew
experience limitless
pasta billet teas
applying their new
dill (aptitude) reaching
titular status of parvenu,
especially trumping proper, "P's"
and most every "Q"
before Wharton peer review.
SNOW FALL in winter, SNOW drops in rain
Sledges slide on slippery SNOW
SNOW caps on sky-kissing Mountain
Water freezes to form SNOW
SNOWDROPS are tender and shy
Sunrays dazzle on SNOW
SNOWFLAKES are winter glory
Skating is a fun on SNOW
SNOW WHITE in dwarf’s den
Eskimos dwell in Igloo on SNOW
SNOW BITE is a scary pain
Penguins live happily on SNOW
SNOW WHITE is a special color
Water is denser than SNOW
SNOW floats easily in water
Glacier is slow moving SNOW
11/16/15
For SNOW Contest
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
6th place in contest
I received a re-invitation email this morning. A ‘come on, why don’t you want to?’ note that struck me as odd. See, I’ve been ‘tapped’ for a couple of final clubs at Yale. It can happen if you earn top grades and interact easily with male friends by day (the crew club scene is ol’ school patriarchal).
Three of my roommates have been tapped - for one thing or another. The upper-crust, traditional networks and secret societies are a huge part of why young men and women choose Ivy League schools.
I’m not talking about frats - I enjoy flippant misogyny as much as the next breasted-American and really, does “Yo bruh,” sloppy binge drinking, and sexual assault ever really get old? Yeah, it kind-of does.
And I’m not talking about the more open and popular ‘eating clubs’ - no - I’m on-about the elite social orders that enjoy a subversive and exclusive appeal.
Some students desperately want to be ‘IN’ and believe those memberships prove they’ve somehow ‘made it’. Let’s face it, someday - if you can’t actually earn it - that skull & bones handshake might open some doors.
I’ve attended a few meetings, meals, and parties in “tombs” (in upstairs libraries and houses) around New Haven, but I guess I’m just not a ‘joiner.’ Groucho Marx once said that he wouldn’t want to be a member of any club that would have someone like him as a member, maybe that’s it for me too.
Anyway, this harangue is sponsored by the glower that that silly email put on my face.
“What’s the matter?” Leeza asked, seeing my expression.
It reminded me of watching people suck-up and ‘social mountain climb’ to get into my grandmère’s (boring) circle. If your club is so exclusive (email sender), why on God’s confused earth would you want me?
Hey, I like parties, dances and hanging out with eskimos - but I'm a pre-med student and the time/value equation just doesn't stack up for me - I’ve got the M-CAT tests next summer and prepping for those has taken up my life.
It’s ironic though, how by day students at Yale go-on about ‘elitism’ - in stylized outrage - and then by night they strain to join these crew clubs.
.
.
slang...
final clubs = elite clubs and secret societies
eskimos - really cool people
crew = elite