Long Getting Poems
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Christmas Eve I heard a knock.
Pretty close to twelve O'clock.
I asked, "Who's there!?"
"Me Santa, can you
help me, I'm in my
underwear?"
I opened the door and the
smell of Rum was in the air.
There stood Santa drunk and
wobbly, in his underwear!
I asked him, " Have you lost
your mind, do you know what
time it is?"
He said, I'm sorry Sir It all
started like this."
"Those kids were pulling on
my beard."
"One was too old to be
there, he threatened me if
I didn't bring him beer!"
"The line kept getting
longer, and their mothers
were getting mad!
"A riot almost started,
and I was depressed and sad."
"Finally one more child
to listen to!"
"I couldn't wait till we were
through!"
He said, "Santa I waited for
so long."
"I have to go on your lap,
I can't hold on!"
" I just have one wish, and
that is to take a piss!"
"Before I knew it, he pissed,
and I granted him his wish."
" I couldn't wait I ran right
to my car, and headed to the
nearest bar!"
"Yeah sure I had a few
drinks!"
"Those darn kids drove me
to the Brink!"
"I took my pants off after
three drinks.
"They were wet and started
to stink!"
"They threw me out of
the bar in my underwear.
"And in my wet Santa
pants I left my car keys, there!"
"So that's why I'm knocking
on your door."
I looked at Santa and I said
"Say no More."
Michael Tor
Tammy Reams Who Is Knocking At My Door? Contest
(This is a fictional poem)
I slept with my brother's wife and now he's getting a divorce.
He used me for a punching bag and I began to feel remorse.
I couldn't resist his wife when I saw her wearing that tight sweater.
My brother broke most of my bones and it took me months to get better.
When I told my brother that his wife is easy, he had a fit.
But you know she has to be easy because I weigh 600 pounds and I'm a man
who has great big ****.
When I pinched a nurse's ###, her husband beat me up too and my body sure
did ache.
If I ever have to fight another woman's husband, I'm going to make sure that he's
someone I can take.
Form:
Trust in America is gone, we are lost in a strange time.
Voting has gone astray, making us scratch our head, with confusion.
I ran for office and they claimed I got zero votes, but that is impossible since I voted for myself and others told me they voted for me too.
Voting should be as secure as getting on a plane, following all the same ways, making us all know we are universally going to be secure.
Trust is gone in America, we can see, we have lost our way, and pray for better days.
Trust is gone and fraud appears to grow freely, the fact seems to be obvious.
America trust went down the drain, we failed to see that many hate America and work to make us all slaves that have to pay.
I am hoping we come to terms, that some want to be here but want to live under their own rule, like the Indians live with their own everything, maybe in the future we should allow the same for all.
America I will pray for you, and hope for the best, help me pray and lift our thoughts.
Lifting prayer to God, today and always.
I made a good impression today April 19th, 2023...
getting fitted for a new pair of dentures
at Liberty Dental in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania;
The tab picked up courtesy
Aetna Medicare Advantra Cares (HMO D-SNP).
Unfortunately said outcome
represents the exception
(regarding measuring success or failure
in the school room or work place)
rather than the rule,
whereat scattershot academic,
and employment history
reveals mine curriculum vitae
chock-a-block extant
with poor scholastic performance
and termination (as if pierced
with a terrible swift sword)
from one job after another respectively.
I made an absolute ZERO effort attempt
to score high marks or earn kudos,
no rhyme nor reason why
yours truly rarely
if ever sought to persevere,
and essentially did not try
though forever dog gone tired
donning figurative dunce cap -
a pointed hat, formerly used
as an article of discipline
in schools in Europe
and the United States—
especially in the 19th
and early 20th centuries—
for children who were disruptive
or were considered slow in learning,
(where classmates or other employees
assailed ready made fodder
made snickering snide remarks
in tandem with
swashbuckling sword play - nah
akin to the three musketeers -
barred from Mars)
toward extremely socially withdrawn boy
whispering under their breath at a lad,
who owned an inferiority complex
the size of Pennsylvania)
exhibiting faith no more in self
at a painfully early age
found him eager, ready and willing
to allow, enable, and provide
ripe opportunity for others to ply
name calling and bullying,
experiencing trauma analogous to
British POWs ordered
by their Japanese captors
to construct a bridge
of strategic importance
over the river Kwai
but never did tears of sadness
simultaneously emanate
from left and right eye.
I know I am getting old,
But I have not put making a budget on hold,
And the theory does not leave me cold,
As my marbles point to it being worth its weight in gold
Yet counting marbles I don't own,
is letting me down,
Making me feel like a clown,
As I try to get rid of a frown.
I have sought all sorts of advice,
On how to get my head out of this vice,
So my budget can include some rice,
But all the feedback was not nice.
Maybe counting the number of fingers in my pie is beyond me now,
And predicting which day my bank fees are due,
I longer know how,
I even must factor in penalties somehow,
Which has left permanent wrinkles on my brow.
What with that and covid -19 making the cash,
I have managed to stash,
In value, about to crash,
As cards now only way to get some potatoes to mash,
No wonder I am breaking out in a rash.
I had planned to make a lash,
Out of a curtain sash,
To give to my favourite politician in lieu of cash,
But saw some women dressed in leather at his door holding a more expensive
lash,
That, suggests my budget blues will not be solved by acting rash,
And I will have to wait til covid -19 has done its dash,
Hoping I am still around with my cash,
When those holding on to plastic will no longer have potatoes to mash,
And my budget blues will be gone in a flash.
Underneath the canvas of the black painted sky, the demon of destruction seeks his victim
of the night,
Twisted up in agony his feed was getting urgent, as he sped across the moon on a swift
demonic serpent.
The serpent swooped and glided, looking for some prey, whomsoever they encountered, would
not easily get away.
Above the tree's and over streams, spinning passing stars, looking for a meal, they
travelled near and far.
When huddled in a blanket, in the back end of a sty, they spied a beggar fast asleep, as
they quietly flew by.
The demon disembarked as the serpent stood behind him, "what a feast to stop my hunger,
see serpent the food I am always finding"
Suddenly the tramp, was awakened by the presence, his eyes widening in fear at this
awesome looking menace.
"Who are you, what do you seek, I have no gold or treasure, do you really think I sleep
amongst the pigs for the sheer pleasure?"
"Silence" said the Demon, "I have no use for mortal words, it's your flesh I seek to take
from you, your last life's breath upon this earth"
"I implore you, please don't harm me, I am not a worthy meal, just tell me what I can do
for you, be it to borrow, beg or steal"
The Demon grew impatient, his blood began to boil, "fool it does not interest me, the
human precious spoils"
"Then what? the beggar answered, "tell me how my life to save? I beg you please don't kill
me, reprieve me from the grave"
The Demon looked upon him, this scruffy dirty man, offering him a way out, a wicked evil plan.
Form:
He was only a sheepdog
But his death has bitten
Into my soul ever since.
As a pup we brought
Him from his home
In Ireland
Where supernumeraries
Are drowned
No small farm needing
More than one mutt.
His reddish brown brother
Had been our first choice
We were left , my father-in-law's choice,
With the black and white collie.
Now his residence would be
A Scottish housing estate
We all grew to love him
I became his alpha male
How his ears would prick up
And he would sit attentively
At the window,
Awaiting my usual time of arrival
With a welcome where,
With tail wagging furiously
His paws would reach up to my chest
As he sought to lick my face
From strength to strength he grew
A tireless walker,chewer of carpets
Chaser of sticks and thief of Sunday roasts
How we all used to smile
When he darted to the opposite end of the room
Whenever my son burst into tears.
This had to be his way
Of saying,"Don't blame me."
He was right at home
Running round the street
With a gaggle of kids
He found his true metier
On returning to the farm
Where he was born
For two days he sat
And watched his brother
Bringing in the cows
And then relieved him
Of his duties
This task he performed
With great gusto
While his brother skulked off
Glad to be relieved
Of his daily chore
He was so much at home
On the farm
Revelling in the freedom,
Enjoying the work
And he was so much bigger
And more energetic than his brother
Tragedy struck
On our return home
Tied to the garage door
To keep him from getting
Under my wife's feet
Meant he could not run away
When a little girl kept blowing
In his face
Self-defence saw him
Nipping her in the neck.
That is what sealed
His death warrant
Gloom settled over our home
That nip might have been fatal
Fatal it was for him
The death sentence was passed
That last long walk
Was our rush to judgment.
We walked slowly
His head hung low
Never had I known
Him so quiet
He entered the killing room
Unflinching and calm
The vet's needle did the deed
Seeing his young body
Stretched lifeless
On that cold dark slab
Has burned my soul
With remorse
Ever since
Growing, growing, tall and strong, vines and thorns they are,
Enveloping my body, leaving bruises, scratches, scars.
Only getting burdensome i try my best to flee,
But when i try to rip away the thorns cause me to bleed.
I stand still for a moment, and try to plot my moves,
But if i try to free myself I know that i will lose.
The trap intends to kill me, no matter how i try,
No matter how i fight it, I am certain i will die.
I once had hope but now i see that there is no escape,
Cuz i was born within these thorns, so see its only fate.
Some of you were meant to live, your minds will let you fly,
But some of us are anchored here, and born to live in lies.
Lies of hope, lies of dreams, lies of empty choices,
The only truth we understand, it lives within the voices.
Entangled in these voices, and thoughts inside our brains,
When everything is stripped away the voice is what remains.
So how do you escape something, the only thing you've known,
And how do you ignore it when the thorns dig into bone.
You can't, you see its always there, the voices let them flourish.
And since the voice is here to stay, you know the vines stay nourished.
Voices, thorns, they're two in one, they feed off of eachother,
So whats the point, its time you see that you're becoming smothered.
Is this it, is this the end, do you know where you are headed?
Its hard to say cuz to this day you're still deeply embedded.
Older Than I Remember
Things have not gone,
the way that you believe they should.
I have not said a thing.
Things are not what they need to be,
but that does not matter.
I will stand beside you forever.
Getting old, life happens.
Being young was easy.
Now everything must be;
measured, counted, poked, prodded,
cut, snipped, or looked at.
Vampires are fed often,
the amount of blood requested,
on any given trip,
gallons.
Cancer, prostate,
high blood pressure,
or worse.
Nitrous…
Headaches, depression,
brought on by too many
visits to too many places,
you were never supposed to go
if and or unless…
you were dragged.
It is hard to remember,
When we danced all night.
Now we take turns on the walker.
Now we have a plate on the car.
You are still everything to me.
I know we are not the same,
But I believe we are better.
I would not change a day…
a moment, an instance,
from here to there,
for anything else.
The word my heart speaks,
out loud to my soul,
not in a whisper,
but in prayer,
to my God…
humbly,
thanks.
Dorthea is a strange one, a weird thinker
She never starts her J’s in the middle of the line
I cannot follow her thought processes.
She is getting a D; something isn’t right here.
She is not a “normal” thinker.
She’ll probably be a drop out anyway.
I might as well get her started.
Bruce is bossy, overbearing, but a boy.
This will serve him well in the business world.
B for Bruce who brings me candies from the homemade candy shop.
I love Bruce; I cannot give him an A because he never does his work.
It’s a C for Carlotta; she is bossy, and girls should not be.
So I truly must take her down a peg or two.
I know she gets lots of A’s but she is arrogant and overbearing.
Girls should learn to keep their mouths shut. She has corrected me twice.
The A students are the compliant ones.
They stay in their seat. They do not make noise.
They do not argue, demand or ask anything of me.
They cannot make eye contact with me.
They are cowed an intimidated.
I like them the best. They never make trouble. A’s for those ten!
A’s because they have made my life as a third grade teacher easy this year.