Long Manufacturer Poems
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John is from Manchester but lives in Warrington,
And was born on the 12th of July in the year 1965,
He’s cool at archery, throws a 28.25” at 60lbs, ton,
And he’s righthanded, so he has much drive.
Before he had a hit-and-run on his motorbike,
With a car coming in the opposite direction,
When he was 24, he did sports at work, did like,
And so after amputation he found cricket action.
But he needed a sports wheelchair, and not, full stop,
An old rickety NHS model, so he blazingly phoned,
A wheelchair manufacturer, who gave him a job top,
As a sports wheelchair designer, so he never moaned.
But soon, he was talking about cricket more often,
Than he was playing it, even in his nifty sports chair,
So when he was invited in 1996 into archery’s blossom,
He accepted it to make this his hobby, he for it did care.
John was World Champion in 2005 in romantic Italy,
Then in Beijing in 2008 at the Paralympics he won gold,
Having been awarded the MBE for services to archery,
And then threw his job in to go professional, foretold.
In Germany, Donaueschingen, at the Worlds in 2015,
He shot silver in the mixed team compound open event,
And then he shot bronze in the men’s individual alive,
To join the Rio GB team to make his mark, he’s meant!
Home invasions resulted in
Jamaican Mexican thieves
taking my children immunization
records marriage certificates
and identification cards by
gods grace I reported the
cards stolen they were comprised
immediately voided replaced
decades ago veterans helping
veterans retired senior master
sgt henry williams took
me to replace my identification
cards when I relocated to Florida
with a broken hip this is fir jay
Townsend Johnson Henry you
and severe repeat hard drugs
manufacturer MEXICAN
VIOLENT OFFENDER stabbing
five persons blood was everywhere
I am blessed to be alive blessed
I survived your violent terrorist
attacks on my life home invasions
you and your vicious violent offenders
are welcome to keep those old
expired cards they have been
voided for decades your threats
on plates is quite twisted that
identity you stole doesn't exist
back off you are a fraudulent
imposter gum on my slippers
you're dangerous obsessed
twisted stop sending me threats
shred my old identification it's
really a crime to use them return
them immediately I don't need
old expired identification cards
they are voided non legal tender
for years I wondered who actually
took them and why thanks for
you threats it gave me clarity
J63 J52 J72 J58 J69 J34 J59
J67 J66 just how many identification
cards have you actually altered
Justice department can help
stop identification fraud scum
Political
You aren't listening
yes you got ears
what am I hearing why are you in fear
internal policies governmental new normalcy
what's the matter with me
is it possible Nixon Resurrected man
The one who got the most votes in 2016
You know who you know who I mean
More than a hunch
Instead of a vote for Hillary most people voted for Trump
how did we elect them
no it's not about Democrats or Republicans
if I vote for you
it's for you not your special interest groups
how is it that the rich seems like
equally don't have to worry about sickness
or the cost of gas
no man's is pure
Or innocent and with the sun
after all smiley faces are just a frowns
turned upside down
and when you're in the storm
standing all alone
grab your bugle and Horn
blow the trumpet loud
praises Heavens rise open up your mind's eyes
open minds ever so practical manufacturer
so if you're International political personally
I don't vote for the party or the man
I vote for the one who's less lying
the one who's lying less
Oh I digress
Old man old woman what's your mission
Not trying to be cynical
But I refuse to be political
12/11/17
Dedicated and inspired by Poet James Horne
From anthology "God's Children Poems, Poets and New Friends"
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.
The oranges came upon the
Reds followed too quickly by golden
Yellow leaves.
Hitting his own autumn the commuter took
One moment to suppose that
Tree had something to do with his own time here but
The metaphysical was beyond grasp.
He understood the sell and the buy
The unstoppable flow of raw goods
To manufacturer to emporium to consumer to junk yard.
He blew his horn anxiously at the gawker in front
And sped down the boulevard toward
Another day—telephone tied to his ear
Retailing and counting exchanges in minute specialty.
Outside, one child
Lays looking through the trees for the day to break
Catching for the first time the mix of redorangeyellow.
The horn breaks his moment.
He too remembers the school bell
And skips off for another repetition
Of yesterday.
I hold on stretching the moment
Out past millenniums opposing the rush
Into eternity proffered by the Wallstreets of America,
Walmarting each of us onto a higher plane of shopper madness.
Shoppers of America, lechers of our time,
Cannot even laugh at me for my leftover
Quixotic operation on the Schuylkill River.
For their stare is lodged at King of Prussia Mall
With its answer to the repetition of changing trees-
Newfangled toys for every day let alone Hanukkah and Christmas.
If they had seen me they could have pointed
To their children an example of
A wasted life without
A patch doll or plastic jack-o-lantern
In the window above the garage door leading into my home.
I kickedaleaf and tried frantically to slow down the trifling time
I had before the parts of my body wanted no more to carry the weight
of my mind digressing or my conceit.
Daiya vegan non dairy cheesecake - oh yum!
Hard knocks Methacton school alum
ofttimes finds ruing his fate
while squarely planted on me bum
disheveled and unshaven,
whereby gray stubble encrusted
with wayward synonymous days old crumb -
after wolfing delectable entitled treat
buttered fingers drubbing upon tabletop
analogous to playing a drum
oy vey, yours truly cannot believe
he ate the whole thing -
argh... my poor tum.
ALDI GIANT supermarkets
(within small radius of miles
from me Schwenksville, Penna abode)
sell delicious delectable treat
goading, inspiring, and spurring me
to craft poem essentially
patronizing manufacturer,
whose skilled food technicians
engineered absolute winning dessert
courtesy their natural born talent
schooled (most likely at culinary institute)
possibly supplemented insync
with advanced degrees
at other institutions of higher learning
after various and sundry
trials and error
concocting mouthwatering secret recipe.
Lemme use hypothetical situation
to accent chew ate,
how alluded dessert tastes great,
especially when rumble in tumbly
clamors for glorious goody
regarding appetite to satiate
unfortunately circumstances
force your truly to wait.
If (the following
constitutes far fetched scenario)
stranded on a desert island,
I after falling to Earth
when parachute fails to open,
weighed down by an excess of
Daiya vegan non dairy cheesecakes,
would finagle an empty pie tin
to signal an SOS.
If left to my own devices,
(where you dear reader
would discover one humbug),
I would be forced to scrounge around
rubbing two sticks together
to create warmth
plus distilling oils -
derived from edible herbaceous plants,
whence I would ejaculate
(not prematurely) - olé
to sauté said greens with wild mushrooms.
We never went by the harbor so quickly.
I wasn’t there during the crash.
What if we told our parents?
Something is laughing in the basement.
That’s the problem with lingering diseases.
Will you become the big deal?
Foraging for apples occurs in the winter.
Please let the surgeon get out of the way.
Sometimes you bore me.
I can't write stories.
The sun will never melt the Earth.
The science of paper weighs greatly on your mind.
Will the sinister image of our reflection undermine our once valiant voyage?
How is the canyon holding up under these conditions?
The starter belt is clinking against a a device engineered by a known enemy of Planetary
Supply Systems, and the manufacturer is married to your ex-wife.
Well, Jesus, Bill…did you have to bring up my ex-wife?
Kalamazoo kids went off to war
leaving giddy gals to go forward in fractured
factories ~from music to munitions
gay guitars would wait until battered boys
came hurriedly home...
or would they wait?
The thought was there but Gibson's gals
did not care for world war and behind
the building's walls would give guitars
attuned attention; first making munitions
then manufacturing those magical music guitars.
The Gibson Factory in Kalamazoo, Michigan is known for its iconic guitars... During World War II, many of Gibson’s competitors had switched to munition-making in an effort to support the war at home. Gibson followed suit—on the surface, at least. While it did hire more women than any other guitar-turned-munitions manufacturer, these women weren’t just making bullets—they were also making guitars. Specifically, the Kalamazoo Gals made Gibson’s Banner line of guitars, which were later used by musicians like Buddy Holly and Woody Guthrie. ~Atlas Obscura
an irrevocable positive transformation occurred
within and without
the world according to Matthew Scott Harris
got mussed and stirred.
No longer central focus of mein kampf,
NON GMO, and glue tin free
continual attention to offspring
took precedence not always glee
full, and how receptive lee
toward voluntary selflessness:
case in point regarding the selfish me
bumped off the long entrenched priority
toward my needs and wants prithee.
A recombinant adjustment incumbent
outlook arose upon freshly minted papa,
where stork sent
Weltanschauung demanded gent
to reef focus his shift, which meant
twenty four hours, seven days a week
plus work in order to pay rent
away from him, and directed a tent
shun toward welfare, welcome, and well being
for totally tubular dependent new outlook on life,
especially when spouse went
out for a breathing spell
became priority number
one thru...infinity, no hard sell
though lacking with any knowhow aye tell
asper tendering attention upon survival
of (what essentially
constituted a foreigner), like George Szell
thy senses required rejiggering, which this fell
low highly struggled with cuz,
no handbook (as promised by manufacturer to boot
ever preceded by Sir-vex), nor followed suit
leaving nervous dada in the dark spooked by a hoot
at onset, when our bundle of joy
more valuable than any amount of loot
could buy, and when back to apartment we did rent
(at that time) Pennfield Manor not heaven sent
situated within breathing distance
of slaughterhouse five scent.
The triumphant South Paw (lefty)
I wanted to use my artistic bent
To a world renowned manufacturer I was then sent
"I want to paint your plates and other things
And learn how to put on the pretty golden rings."
“Hold up your hands, tell me which do you use?”
“Why I’m left handed, I don’t get to choose”
"Oh no" you leave now, you leave from this place
We don’t have left-handers here you are a disgrace."
I held up my hands abashed and in shock
This evil thing of mine was the means of the chop
"No said I, I will not be beat."
"Take me to the head boss, and I will compete."
She marched me in and told him my shame,
"She’s no good to us she’s a lefty, she will be lame."
I held back the tears and said "Look I can do this."
"Just give me a chance please don’t me dismiss."
He picked up his pen and started to write,
He was left-handed too I saw to my delight.
"Give her a chance if she can’t do it she’s out."
He winked at me and said “You’ll show them I don’t doubt.”
“But everything is set up for the right-handed crowd.
Speed is of the essence so lefties aren’t’ allowed."
They took me to the interview and started the wheel
I said no “I’ll do it my way, so I get the feel.”
“You are doing it wrong, that’s going the wrong way”
“Hey you, I’m a lefty and this is OUR day."
I won, I succeeded, and I was the fastest in the shop.
My wage was enormous; I was not for the chop.
Ever since that day there are left-handers there
They now provide lefty’s proper table’s wheels and chairs
This is a true story, no left-handers were alowed because it was paid peacework and evrey things was set up for right handers. There was also a thought that left handers could not do it anyway. I not only proved it in the decorating deparment but in other departments as well and now they set things up for both left and right.
Please clearly print your name
on the front of your mask. Cupid.
(Cupid is having a heck of a time this year. Not to forget all the other mishaps masks are causing. As a public service, I will just reiterate a few -- and please add some to my list as you become aware: CDC has just determined that Masks cause life threatening flatulence; per Fauci's recommendation, Pfizer is developing a new Posterior-mask – asking for volunteers with IBS to participate – Biden promises 100 billion masks by next Thanksgiving – he has issued an Executive Order banning all Chili-fests (Hear that Texas!) – Also, dental colleges in New York and Los Angeles are running dangerous low on masks with automatic floss attachments, Biden promising to order several Billion from reputable Chinese manufacturer in Wuhan. So, we really need to Brain-storm, here at Soup – it is our Civic Duty! Joe.)