Long Expedient Poems
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When the wolf applied nicely
If he could come in,
The pigs replied thricely he shouldn't.
Then they scratched at the hairs
On their chinny chin chins,
And tightly bolted the door so he wouldn't.
But wolves, when out shopping,
Are not easily put off,
Even faced with the risks they are takin'.
This one ignored the wheezing,
And the nagging, rasping cough,
In his lust for ham, pork chops, and bacon.
First, he blew down the straw house,
Then the one made of sticks,
But by the third he was straining and grasping.
It was a veritable fortress
Of well-mortared bricks,
And emphysema left him panting and gasping.
With one last mournful howl,
The wolf knew he was done
And lay down in the driveway, embarrassed.
The pigs regained their composure
And called 911,
But when the cops came, the wolf claimed he was harassed.
The argument raged
For an hour or more
'til the cops gave them all a citation.
Still gasping for breath
As he slunk from the door,
The wolf was stopped by a squealed invitation.
"Wolfie, oh, Wolfie, please won't you come in?
We'd so like to have you for lunch."
And he would have gone on and ignored the appeal,
If he only knew that "ragout de loup" (pr. rah-goo duh loo)
Was the entrée, but he had no hunch,
And he was not one to pass up a free meal.
When a wolf's sick and hungry,
He might let down his guard
And do dumb things a wolf shouldn't ought to.
But for pigs, it's expedient
To get the final ingredient
Required for a tasty "wolf stew".
The wolf's huffing and puffing
Couldn't even come close
To the pigs' stratagems and devices.
After seven martinis,
It still hadn't dawned on the dope
That intelligence wasn't one of his vices.
If he'd had more brains than brawn,
This poor wolf might have known
That the pigs never meant to surrender.
They'd no more need to fear or hate him,
They knew the booze would marinate him,
So when they served him up and ate him,
He'd be quite succulent and tender.
If this tale has a moral, I'd like to propose
That "three heads are better than one" be selected.
In this case, not the one who worked the hardest,
But the ones who worked the smartest,
And as the little piggies guessed,
The wolf was the perfect luncheon guest.
Of course, their table manners weren't the best,
So they still made pigs of themselves, as expected.
[Continued from Part Two]
The elder took no notice of risking life and limb.
Hither, thither ran the children, glancing up at him,
while indulging mindlessly in each impulsive whim,
with no apprehension of the future looking grim.
Their chances for salvation seemed increasingly slim…
That aged man’s deep compassion filled him to the brim.
The father knew the children liked any strange device,
exotic playthings, trinkets, whatever would entice.
He needed now to improvise a mode, in a trice,
that could capture their attention— something to suffice
to hold their young imaginations— to be precise,
a mechanism marvelous, no matter the price.
He had stores of immeasurable wealth, beyond doubt,
and his warmhearted love was impartially devout.
Just then the elder had the thought that not in the least
would his limitless riches and reserves be decreased,
even if to a kingdom vast he were to dispense
his overflowing fortune… so why shouldn’t he hence
give out his wealth directly to his progeny all,
before the children’s catastrophic deaths should befall?
The aged man reflected on what tactic to pick—
an expedient means that was sure to do the trick.
He told the children of exquisite toys he possessed
along with lots of precious carts of the very best
craftsmanship and quality, that all had been designed
expressly with the youngsters’ own enjoyment in mind.
The elder next, in order to persuade them, stated
that right outside the house at the entrance awaited,
to suit the young ones’ fancies skillfully created
goat, sheep, deer, and ox carts, ornately decorated.
He said that they must rush to leave the mansion, in haste,
and he’d give them everything— there was no time to waste.
Then the children finally fulfilled his desire
and scurried in a race safely out of the fire.
The father beamed with bliss that the urgency had passed.
They had securely left the burning building at last!
When they’d exited and scampered out, they all sat down
on the dewy earth and asked their father, with a frown,
where the toys and carts were that the elder had portrayed
for their own special likings to have been tailor-made.
The youngsters had escaped and the elder’s heart was eased.
But now each one of their capricious wants must be pleased.
[Continued in Part Four]
~ Harley White
I have known and walked the right path
But now I’m in chains
I’m restrained
My soul is in captivity
My days consist of drug-induced activity
To know and not do is insanity
I watch my life pass before me
It's vanity.
I know the Truth
It’s right in front of me
But to grasp Its’ power
I find none of my own
I am not proud that I blow clouds
I’m living in a daze
I sit in smoke filled rooms
It’s like being lost in a maze
Like coins in my pocket
I spend my life on menial things
I live like loose change
Sadness is what it brings
What will I have to show for the life I’ve spent
My time is lent
I do not own it
My world is small
Each day is predictable
My addictions runs deep
I think it’s despicable
But I stopped resisting
Now I’m merely existing
And I watch my life fade away
The struggle is real
Many layers i need to peel
Oh that I would be free
I want to spread my wings
Fly like an eagle
So strong and so regal
I want to reach heights beyond my limits
Soar on the wings of His power
Hour by hour
Ascending higher
Becoming stronger
Redeeming the time
Live a little longer
And trust in the One who knows me
I want to make wise choices
Drown out those voices
That have controlled my thinking for too long
I want to belong
Sing a new song
Right all my wrongs
While I yet have my breath
I want to go the distance
Finish the race set before me
Overcome the odds that are clearly against me
And reach my destiny
Until Heaven becomes my home
I want these chains broken
And my enemies choking
From words of Truth I proclaim
Achieve victory in His name
Live for His glory
Be powerful proclaiming His story
Witness other prisoners become free
That they too may spend the remainder of their loose change
Serving others
Being sisters and brothers
Until the sand in the hourglass runs dry
And true life for us all begins
I want out of this pit
Stretch my arms
Reach for the sun
With hundreds of children beside me
All the new believers born from my obedience
To learn from my experience
Its expedient
But as of now
I'm like a dripping faucet
My life is leaking
One drop at a time
Loose change
Spending nickels
Spending dimes
Less and less with each passing day
Knowing when the change runs dry
Is the day I depart
A citizen in Heaven at long last
Effortlessly now as we battle the darkest battle with those known as the greatest powers
The race is not won by the stronger or swifter, have you ever heard of the one who is called The Deliverer
God has handed the poor man a plot out of poverty, And He has heard the cry of the widow
And the young girl who cries out for vengeance, an Angel tells her, it is the Lord who fights your enemies
So before you come to This place swollen with pride and drunken on your plans for my future misery
Disguised is a blue ninja inside these pictured and captured memories
Defiantly freed for a lifetime and completely treating this as a matter of discretion
Undeserving of nothing, worthy friends are not really what I call my friends at all its unlikely
Because their boast of loyalty is like false fronts and I come up behind them and say why even comment
For it is your words that betray you and despite the lip service that you give me when you preach to me forgiveness
It is not my way to condemn you as judges do when they sentence you for the rest of your lifetime in hell
No I’m like come to a conclusion do away with your false views of me
Land on this solid ground step away from that place all they’ll do is sacrifice you to save themselves
A wrath has descended like storms of destruction the forces are darker than lights when they blackout
The forest is creeping with every creature that is pulled into a place of safety and hiding
Broken arrowheads poisoned with venom are crying out all I need now is a target
Sonic boom sound breaker is broken and long forgotten frozen and composed in music that throws it
Children here the voice of reason, Men are full of deceit and crafty because they are from the devil
Teachers please come and listen for you will teach well after you hear the voice of the Master
Beware! Take heed do not be greedy for a mans life is not consisted of material possessions
By your patience possess your souls, It is expedient that I leave you and go to be with the Father
Because then I will send you the Spirit of comfort and he will bring all these things into remembrance
Lo I am with you all the way to the ends of the earth, and be watchful because no one knows the hour
Not me nor the Angels in Heaven, that time is only known by the Father
And when I say Watch, WATCH! Because I come as a thief in the night!
It was a long summer and the bees did their job,
For the trees were filled with apples, hanging like little knobs.
Oh, those orbs, they looked so delicious and red,
I gathered so many, I had to put the bushels in the shed.
They would be the source of a season of treats,
And anyone who wanted, could have their fill of the eats.
Cakes were baked, Crisps were done too,
I even tried my hand at fresh applesauce, before the season was through.
I did apple salads and baked apples as well,
But it was the pies that got adulation, so of those I will tell.
Paring and slicing in an expedient way,
The apples were ready, shortly before midday.
Then with a mixture of flour, sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg,
I make them into a filling, that would even make a king beg.
I've tried so many kinds of pastry to fill,
From filo and puff, to rolled out traditional.
And I have to say whilst patting myself on the back,
They all taste great, flavor they do not lack.
The traditional pie is the one most people enjoy,
I have tried to improve on it, since I was a boy.
I learned how to make it at Mom's left hand,
Roll out the crust, the filling never canned.
Pats of butter on top before you cover,
Make for a pie that will be loved world over.
Then to seal the pie, brush it with melted butter, and cut some slits,
Pop it in the oven, and just wait for it.
The tantalizing aromas just make me wild,
Just as they did, when I was a child.
The moment the pie comes out I can see,
That another triumph has been made perfectly.
The dome is golden, the apples are done,
Now, only to wait for it to cool, before we can enjoy some.
Some like it ala mode...with ice cream you know,
But I'm a plain Jane, and for me it's not the right combo.
So I just have a slice that's warm on the plate,
And will my appetite, begin to sate.
It is one of my favorite desserts,
Of this I will always my willingness assert.
The only thing that troubles me,
Is all the bushels left to peel, when I have time free.
But I will do them, and into the freezer they are thrust,
Waiting for me to them into another pie, as so often I must.
Potential I Presume More Limericks
Big and tremendous come to mind.
Tremendous, stupendous, upend us.
Gargantuan, passion, trashing.
Immensive, aggressive, sensitive.
Ultimate Utmost, out grossed, horrible host.
Pittance, sentence, repentance.
In effect essential, provocative, potential, quite intentional.
Necessity, complexity, anxiety.
Court Municipal, Peter Principle, always apprehensible.
Concerting, blurting, hurting.
Infinitesimal, decimal, inexcusable.
Horribly huge, difficult deluge, shady subterfuge.
Passion, mansion, ration.
Explanation, creation, prevarication.
Expedient, concillient, what he meant
Congenial, menial, essential.
Validate, marinate, create. (For you cooks out there.)
Ballad, salad, valid.
Repudiated, humiliated, regimented.
Surgical, liturgical, hysterical, historical.
Urgence of resurgence of common sense.
To endure, become obscure for sure.
As of late would be great if they negotiate.
Kept at bay until miles away so Standish did say.
Had to humiliate to rehabilitate then consummate.
Were reassured could have occurred if enough endured.
My patience was tried then cried and cried after he had lied and lied so Bonny could be bona fide.
What part of the ocean had Bonnie been laid over at anyway? It must have been some perfect excuse
to go on a cruise and of course if you snooze will definitely loose.
Love could have occurred after I was assured no more lying will be endured.
If totally transparent, it could be inherent was apparent both were probably a potential parent.
What to we did allude, the became unglued in the middle of a family feud.
Embarrassed we became when he was up to his old game of seeking more fortune and fame.
Guess who and am sure you knew when bailed out the whole crew.
Patiently particular, was a homicide which was vehicular deduced by a diverticular.
Beside the sea with idea would wrestle should nestle under a trestle out of rain to wait for next vessel.
On Trump it finally dawned, if he would wave his magical want another witch would respond.
Instead of Grinch he would be the Witch Who Stole Christmas among other things.
Jim Horn
[Continued from Part One]
The youngsters were oblivious— so entranced were they
in their childhood amusements and entertaining play.
That door was small and narrow to leave the family home.
And, oh, their lives were fragile, like bubbles on the foam!
These children viewed the burning house as a safe abode,
although the conflagration seemed ready to explode.
Engrossed in every pleasure their little lives could get,
they were unconscious of the blaze and its mounting threat.
The elder, in the meantime, was consumed with worry.
He had to make them flee the mansion in a hurry.
Hence, the man ran back inside and then began to shout
that they were in great peril and quickly must get out.
He pointed to the fire, plus how it swiftly spread,
and sought to warn his offspring that soon they would be dead
unless they ceased their merriment, heeded his alarm…
The father could not bear it, if they should suffer harm!
Nonetheless, in spite of all the elder’s coaxing cries,
the children paid no mind to those admonitions wise.
Thoroughly absorbed in their diversions and delight,
they just did not believe him, nor had they any fright,
nor wish to stop their playing and hastily take flight.
Yes, the house was burning; still they scarcely saw the sight.
They were so immersed in fun, blind to their own blindness,
they could not see that his pleas stemmed from loving-kindness.
Those children had no dread and were sadly unaware
of what destiny lay in store, if they stayed in there.
How would they avoid such an excruciating fate?
The flames were closing in on them; it would be too late!
The man could not abandon them to be burned alive.
He had to find a clever way, so they would survive.
The father, wrung with agony, wondered what to do.
Such awful pain lay ahead— somehow he must get through.
He grappled with the problem and racked his brain at length.
Was there some expedient means of sufficient strength
he could use to save all the children that he cherished,
rescue every single one fast, before they perished?
[Continued in Part Three]
~ Harley White
K379 and K380 of Canto XXXVIII of the THIRUKKURAL, Translated with Commentary
(Just a note on the translations to say that, even if G.U. Pope did more to research and elucidate the THIRUKKURAL, his translations - with some exceptions - bent on rhyme and stilted structure, require further interpretation and are sometimes needlessly obscure.
W. H. Drew and John Lazarus's translations are generally quite clear, but tend sometimes towards needless expatiation. In my own rendering, I have tried to keep to the semantic ordering and grammatical structure wherever possible.
Lest non-Tamils unfamiliar with the Kurals think that the author Thiruvalluvar also used punctuation marks found in the translations, would do well to note that Tamil writers of yore never had this bother to cope with. Besides, as Pope points out, the short and long vowels like "o" and "O" were undifferentiated in the original; now and then however the dot over the "l" (there are three in the Tamil alphabet) was used to indicate the use of "l" as "ela" or "la".) T. Wignesan
K379: nanraangkaal nallavaak kaanpavar
anraangkaal allal paduvathu evan
When good things come, men view them all as gain,
When evils come, why then should they complain? ( Transl. G.U. Pope)
How is it that those, who are pleased with good fortune, trouble themselves
when evil comes (since both are equally the decree of fate)? (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
When everything goes well, we tend to enjoy life (for what it is worth);
When things take a turn for the worse, why should we whine? (Transl. T. Wignesan)
K380: uulin peruvali yaavula matruonru
cuulinum thaanmunth thurum
What powers so great as those of Destiny? Man's skill
Some other thing contrives; but fate's beforehand still. (Transl. G.U. Pope)
What is stronger than fate? If we think of an expedient (to avert it), it will itself
be with us before (the thought). (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
Is there force mightier than fate? It will forestall the very thought of one who tries to dodge it. ( Transl. T. Wignesan)
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
You wanna know sumpin sumpin?!
In the garden of life's relentless seasons,
bloom and wither,
don't ask me, for WHATEVER REASON,
faceted petals fall like molted feather,
turn to moltened Carbonite
if you get the right bearer.
YOU GET ME, miss been self miss-treatin?!
Each moment is a fragile puzzled masterpiece, for reason,
to pick you up in it's pieces and
put you into the big picture.
(Just like your man should be doin!), mm"
"You see, in the Carnival of souls,
"the ocean of wandering orphans",
(each an ingredient, expedient to it's own-
notions- honed- expose ').
Liquid, potions alchemized in the chemistry
of personalitay,
conceived in sonar avatars place-holding for the
"genuine article" for sanctioned interactivity
(in demarcation zones), I must say.
Looks like yours has been crossed on the way!"
In our cult of masks that influence the
wearer to be convinced of true identity as proof in the mirror.
Things cannot be made to be unclearer.
You gotta be yourself baby, shine on, be it what it may!
You know that, a Phantom of the Opera has taken sanctuary in the midst of the scene,
plays on your emotions like aphrodisiac
given a Mati Hari, please!"
That's why she ain't been talking to me!
A trailblazer, that one,
igniting the bloom of your seasons,
igniting strength in the depths of vulnerability,
pregnancy out of the dark tunnel
of winter reclusivity.
Her fertility ritual sparking a coming of age,
and the pairing as a wage.
I may be a muse, but she, she is not only acting in motherhood, baby, she is the stage!
You don't want to miss that show,
I am telling you right now.
Not that anyone does.
She is open for business.
You know what I mean!?
But you see there is a cost.
Feelings are the price of the ticket,
it's dealings skulldug-in-triplicate.
In the abyss of despair, hope lingers,
like a monster, there.
Momma Moon, winks, anytime honey, anytime.
Hard considerations for the future of mankind
The bard sings commiserations as he looks for what he cannot find
A shard of intimidations hurled toward the innocent and kind
A card that invokes incantations as they question the lucidity of her mind
A lenient life sentence to constantly wonder through philosophical terrain
The convenient repentance of a man who stands by greed to gain
As expedient incentives are formed to stop the poor from expressing their pain
The ingredients for inventive warns creatives to endure the weight of constant strain
Contemplations of Shakespeare Goethe, Baudelaire and the weight of my conscience
Concentration camps that are now there in full view and they dare to call it nonsense
Salutations reserved for the configurations of the absurd at the next NATO conference
Conflagrations of callous imitations create the mystery surrounding the inference
As fortunate fictitious narratives headline the cheapened world of truth
The ornament of original design distracts me from lamenting my youth
Apportionment indicates politicians should resign amidst this carnival of the uncouth
At the tournament of malaise and refine there’s no winners unless you’re a sleuth
Propositions that reduce visions of possible elevation to rubble amidst all the splendour
Inquisitions of the most formal revelation as you walk past the local street vendor
Tacticians of emotional stagnation imbued in all that you deplore and render
Submissions and overt culminations of all that you wish to ignore like the very last Big Spender
Reverting back to the hopeful realms of redemption and beauty and refine and a can of mace
Converting over to Islam as a Christian ponders prevention of the dissemination of an entire race
Disconcerting as an innocence is forming in the intentions and warning in the lines of her softening face
Introverting the pretension and reflection as we reach to the heavens for grace
The End Elizabeth Moroz Copywrite 2025