Long Goose is cooked Poems
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Nations of Compassion?
Follow the crowd, or else,
Your goose is cooked but good.
Bend your square head in obeisance.
Keep your lofty ideas to yourself!
The only truth that matters now,
Is the suppression by the maddening
crowd.
Go, hence, to your humble corner now!
We allow no freedom of expression.
For we are the masters of oppression.
Where lies magically become truth.
That is our omnipotent, potent obsession.
Go toot your truth elsewhere.
It's our way or the lonely highway.
We rule the kingdoms, sans compassion.
Where you and your individualism,
Are not wanted, in our globalist fashion!
July 12, 2020
7pm PST
Where there's a will
there's a funeral
death is a fact of life
a grave undertaking
for a mortician
and one day some day
you and I
will wake up dead
hopefully the lifetime led
was of our own making
too late for looking back
no regrets and yet
it's appalling
when we wind up
in a winding sheet
waiting on that beir
aside from six feet under
where do we go
from here?
Some say, 'Heaven,'
some say, 'Hell,' oh well,
by then our goose is cooked, wagon fixed,
and we'll never know 'til it's too late
as they've punched our ticket,
cleaned our clock and wiped our slate.
In kingdoms known by all the lands
in which the Royal court commands
The celebration must begin
with love found of the hearts within
December rules this favorite time
as hopes build in this winter clime
For as this day is drawing near
They all know Christmas time is here
And as this story’s book reveals
with Royal writs and Royal seals
This proclamation is at hand
for everything to be as planned
The bells have rung, the goose is cooked
the joy is found by all who’ve looked
The trees of light are on display
and now it’s time for Christmas day
And as for gifts to be on show
there is but one that they all know
For in these lands so far above
The only christmas gift is love
The King looked down upon the land,
Saw Earth in great distress.
This place that He has loved so much,
The things He loved and blessed;
Saw cruelty of every kind,
Sickness, death, decay.
He knew that something must be done,
Set forth without delay.
He knew how He would be received,
Who would and who would not;
But He made sure that those who would,
Would not be just forgot;
For we are His and His alone,
For by His hand we're made,
And now we're His twice over,
Because the price He paid.
He could have simply turned His head,
And looked the other way,
Could have made another place,
And left uf to our fate.
It's nothing less than we deserve,
You'd think by now we'd learn.
Without His Grace our goose is cooked.
Without His care we'd burn.
God The Father gave His All.
The Best That Heaven Had,
And all we gave Him in return,
At best could be called bad;
But that's just not the way love works.
It's just not His way.
What He made in love and joy,
Won't be destroyed that way.
The King was filled with anger,
To see His Own attacked;
For He's a loving Father,
The Enemy feels His wrath.
The King returned unto the land,
Back to |His dwindling fold.
He called to His remaining sheep,
Bought back with purest gold.
All who woud return to Him,
Now have no need to fear.
He paid the price and bought us back,
Because He holds us dear.
He suffered and He died for us.
He strode right through Hell's gate,
And took back what belongs to Him.
Now Hell is not our fate.
Satan longed to rule it all.
He's filed with evil schemes.
This is no fairy tale, it's real.
It is no silly dream.
He was cast out of Heaven,
For trying to take God's place,
And so he was cast into Hell,
Where he lives in disgrace.
Now he thinks and plots and schemes,
Filled with greed and lust.
He knows that God is only hurt,
Whenever he gets to us.
I feel my luck will change if I give it one more try.
However, this is something my peers will deny.
A jackpot awaits if I push a button or pull a lever.
I have lost a lot of money. It cannot go on forever.
To make more wagers, I am ready and able.
Perhaps I will recover my losses at the table.
No, that is nonsense. I will lose more money.
Just giving these avaricious operators my assets is not funny.
Deep down inside, I must tell myself “no”.
I find it difficult to stay out of a casino.
Yes, these stately pleasure domes have me hooked.
If I keep playing, then the golden goose is cooked.
Forgive me, just some silly nonsense...
You can have your Chatty Cathy
Or Annie with the big Fanny
But you can't have Tom Terrific
You don't get it? That's uncanny!
They gotta rhyme like Sarah Tiara
Or Tammy who loves Salami
There's the famous Roger Dodger
And little old Hammie Sammy
There's more, there's Skinny Minnie
Or sweet li'l ole Flirty Gerty
There's Amy who smells quite Gamey
And how about Gurgling Bertie
Have you heard of Picky Vicky
Or tasty sweet Hannah Banana
There's Mona Lisa Teresa
And cute little Andy Panda
Jerry at times can be Scary
How about little Betsy Wetsy
Buck who drives a great big Truck
And Bessie who's extremely Messy
So I've come to the end of my verses
Oops! Forgot about Bob the Snob
Bruce is saying my Goose is cooked
And I'm trying hard not to sob!
© Jack Ellison 2013