Long Flush it Poems
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Written By: D. Collins 6/6/25
Big men shivered when he got into the paint.
Knowing they're a victim of his vicious faints.
He had the meanest crossover anyone has ever seen.
Even Michael Jordan got postered on our T.V. screens.
He was a little man with the heart and will of a bull.
Made many so-called professionals look like a fool.
None of the NBA teams had an "answer" for him.
When we thought he wouldn't he'd flush it at the rim.
He made all big men respect and fear the little guy.
Often shaking their heads from a heavy dose of AI.
His mark on the game should stand out in our minds.
He was the best little, big man to play between the lines.
I see the end is near
I see that my freedom is so close
I certainly hope it is
I sure could use a vacation from this
Worthless, cancerous carnival of
Freaks
Here in this hopeless ruined hole I call my town
The only way to fix it is to quickly flush it down
Any blessed day, any cursed time
Under the waves, I know it would be so damn sublime
They cry for their safety and
Cry for their drugs and they
Cry for their future and
Cry for their lawsuits and
Don't care for others as
Their lives are worthless like
All that the world can do is
Revolve around them in this
Worthless, cancerous carnival of
Freaks
Here in this hopeless ruined hole I call my town
The only way to fix it is to quickly flush it down
Any blessed day, any cursed time
Under the waves, drowning to death, won't it be sublime?
I pray something will fall from the heavens
And firmly implant itself beneath the waves
And the tidal waves pour in
As everyone starts running
I hope the end is near
I hope Armageddon's coming soon
I certainly pray it is
I sure could use a vacation from this
Waste of time, wasting time
A festering sore on this country we live in
Here's an idea to keep you all interested
Hold your breath
God's gonna fix it all soon
God's gonna put it all back the way it should've been
Hold your breath
To death with your leaders and
Farewell to their clones
And all those false gangsters
Who have no way to survive
Hold your breath
Sink with your hobbies and
Sink with your pride
Sink with the junkies
Who followed with their own will
Hold your breath
Sink with your dealers
With hidden agendas
Sink with these dysfunctional
Insecure failures
Hold your breath
Because I'm praying for rain
I'm praying for tidal waves
I want to see the waves rising
And crash down upon us
God, please flush it all away
Show what's underneath
The rushing brown waters
I want to see it all drown
WITH EYES STILL ON THE MARCHING PRIZE
(APROPOS OF AN MLK DAY REFLECTION)
With eyes on the prize,
Let us climb freedom’s mountain:
Topping liberty:-
Be a Drum Major,
Leading liberty’s parade
Up the mountaintop:
Guiding marchers onward to
Freedom, justice, and equality:-
Don’t let anything
Try to deter the journey:
You’re not Sisyphus;
Just keep on climbing:-
God navigating,
Let’s march to reality;
Our dream coming true:-
And nobody can turn us back:
Our faith, drum majoring us:-
Given the Dream’s route,
Let’s move up the mountainside:
Topping injustice:-
Railroading onward,
Has been tracked by ancestors:
God navigating:-
Today’s oppression,
We shall also overcome:
Flushing bigotry:-
Let justice’s waters unclog
Today’s red-pooped injustice:-
Let’s flush it all down!
Including red-stained echoes
From loose bowel-mouths:-
Unless it's an Indian gift from the karmic sky-gypsies
it’s not going to last.
Maybe you have lots of it,
but sooner or later
the 'told you so' pigmy bobble-heads of Mu
will make it known to you
that they are watching your every distracted move,
and their taking receipts
back to long abandoned thrift shops.
Amazon's plastic chop suey
will keep you spinning in circles like a drunk skunk.
The very wealthy flush it 2 times
just to clear their own much trapped crap.
Stuff is also for the downtrodden masses,
who renovate it to fit their cramped lifestyles.
In the end it’s all utter clutter
that digs the captive soul
deeper and deeper.
Best to gather together what no one wants
then wait,
until inevitably -
they do.
The wind is howling like a massive storm inside.
Can’t let it out, can’t hold it in.
Yes, I am fed up but don’t know how to flush it out.
Like I am entangled in the chocking ropes.
I know, it’s a difficult journey, I have to deal with it.
The fear is killing me, though I am sure I'll live it up.
I am sinking from dawn till shuddering dusk.
The result would scare me or would it be a good luck?
I turn around to see my hopeful beloved family,
Their love, their faith further scares me!
If I don’t make it! Would everything go away?
Yes, it scares…...I feel I am about to fray!
I am strolling in dark, maybe I will fall someday.
I wonder what will go away and what will stay!
Maybe I am finished, may be on cloud nine.
I worked hard; the success should be mine!
Every thing seems so lifeless and hollow.
Do you feel the vacuum around, which might swallow!
I want to be positive; I want to touch the stars.
For every dedicated student, I want to leave a mark.
I know this isn’t the end, lot more to go.
Lots of happy moments are waiting in a row!
Lots more to achieve, lots more to show.
STILL, why this heart thumps and why am I following the dark shadow!
Trump the Pump Truck Driver
By Franklin Price
11/09/2019
Trump is who we see he is, doesn't practice to deceive
Won the plumbing job, three years ago, was elected to receive
All the piled up defecation that was spread throughout the land
He has unclogged the toilets and the flushing's not so grand
Took the top off of the septic tank, it's not a pretty sight
The smell is overpowering, whether middle, left or right
Trump's the pump truck driver who was hired for the scene
He has gotten down and dirty, for sure he isn't Mr. clean
He put the hose deep in the doo, turned the valve, began to suck
Wasn't long until 'twas evident that he'd need a bigger truck
To clean the tank and drainfield and to make DC a part
Of the whole US's treatment plant. I believe he's made a start.
Congress fills its bellies, checks are paid for by the rich
Eating caviar and lobster; their elected life's a b...
When everything's digested and it's time to take a dump
They try to flush it all away, and blame the smell all on the Trump
For all of you in Washington, who are supposed to be our link
Who look down from the Capitol and think your poop don't stink
Get that thought out of your head, and quit all of your braggin'
Get out and get among us, and smell the honey wagon
Perhaps you should return to, that house with moon on door
With a wooden seat to hold you and a dirt hole in the floor
And after you've contributed to the smell that's evident
Move into the basement where all the solid waste is sent
I would want that all to happen for the first time.
I want all these feelings to be washed away.
I want to feel the warmth of the sun for the first time once.
I wanna cry in my mothers arms for the first time once again.
I wanna crawl back into her arms for the first time once again,
Those arms used to take my pain away.
I wanna see the flight of a butterfly for the first time once again;
No wonder that’s a gaze.
I wanna believe in magic for the first time.
I want the tooth fairy to teach me loosing’s a gain,
For the first time once again.
I wanna dance for the first time and feel that fall once again.
I wanna be touched by the love of my life for the first time once again,
But this time I want to be able to wash it all away.
I wanna drain all of my sorrows, I don’t want to be judged on my way.
I don’t wanna drown in the sorrow,
I want to make it happen for the first time all over again.
It’s no wonder I am in search of that first time once again.
I wish, I could, If I could, I would, flush it all away.
I want these unwanted memories to wash off so that,
I can feel it for the first time all over again.
What’s In The Urn
Strangers offered me to join them in a drink
I met them on a mountain edge while skiing
They seemed like friendly normal people then
So what could happen in a simple cabin?
Finding that which is not there or vanquished
What is there that cannot be perceived?
Placed upon the mantel piece are ashes in the cabin
Brass vase, a receptacle for lost souls sits in repose
A death vase to glare at over cognac
By the sober flames cast by
A fire place glow observed in action
Liquid spirits pour out their poison
In the cozy living room inside the cabin
Drinks alone cannot remove this feeling of distraction
The urn is piercing through my soul
People belong in cemeteries you know
With all due respect for the dead
Scatter them at sea when they‘re deceased
Not paraded around in gloom to cause unease
Or as a center piece for living rooms
I’m not relieved to find it is a lizard on the shelf
To be exact, an exotic iguana family friend entombed
And to assume that fact makes this matter optimal
I beg to differ on that point and voice my opinion later
There must be a plot of ground outside
Or toilet somewhere to flush it down
But better left unsaid, as they are bereaved about the death
And I am their invited guest
Iguana tried consuming the family’s cat
Another favorite pet I guess
It is surmised, that’s how it met its end
Wound up expired inside the urn
The receptacle was there and going nowhere on its own
I swear it follows me from room to room
By embers glow and ash, shadowing my every move
A brass smile casting off the urn, leaving me concerned
I could not take my leave
The container followed me
So I waited, fixated on the thing
Is it coming back to life to eat more bugs or me?
Finding that which is not there
Is easier in the dark
Rising to the occasion of the day that breaks
I must escape the premises to continue skiing
Into the frozen world outside I fly
With no discernible signs or paths to lead or learn
I get away, no time to say good-byes or find my way
Never again will I say; what’s in the urn
Heaven gladly accepted me
My heart is so full of glee
Cause I'd never thought I'd be
In a place where love is free
My excitements giving me
The sudden urge to go wee-wee
I look around and finally see
Where I sit and tinkle pee
On a "throne" so heavenly
My bladder is now happy
Now that it is urine free
The shiny bowl is so pretty
The waters very shimmery
When I flush it instantly
Refills with a rainbowy
Colorful and brilliantly
Liquid that smells pleasantly
Now bathroom trips personally
Are not a chore and genuinely
I look forward to daily
Flushing after leisurely
Sitting soft and comfortably
In a spot so privately
Reserved everyday for me
Let’s bring back the GOOD OLD DAYS
Grab that washboard and some lye soap
Hang those wet clothes on a limp rope
Chop some wood, build a fire
The kids new swing a worn out tire
Park that car up on the front “lawn”
‘cause all the gasoline is gone
Wash your dishes in a bucket
When ya poop don’t dare to flush it
Separate and please recycle
returning home on your BI-CYCLE
after dark, laundry’s still damp
where’s my NEW kerosene lamp
I’m setting traps for squirrel and rabbit
Meat eating’s such a FILTHY HABIT
I read a book, I’m such a scamp
Under an incandescent lamp
Gotta go, it’s almost sun-up
Gotta go and guard my turnips
But first I’ll eat my Covid Era Pop Tarts
And get arrested for my Methane Gas Farts