Long Nail Poems
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The tale of the sinister Prime Minister of Israel
Latest eruption but your corruption will not avail
Wiles and guile on trial as does rile and defile
Knows if loses his job..without fail going to jail
Beyond the pale conned so can derail & impale
With war crimes of such scale no comeback trail
Lebanon carry on in his coffin will be the final nail
Political suicide Persian incursion Gaza genocide
Should be tried lied about Iran as folks fried died
Benjy the truth denied said plied with Israeli pride
Ghoulish prankster & foolish gangster can't hide
Missiles flied but hard as he's tried end of the ride
All did begin with Benjamin chagrin making a din
But his entire liar empire on fire torched from within
Every debauched sin held to account no more spin
No matter colour of skin Zionist zealot plot must bin
Burn Benjy burn return to concern about kindred & kin
The Netanyahu retinue in full view cannot continue
What will he do well facts & pacts will skew & slew
Vicious acts hate does imbue pernicious plans pursue
Will still spew discerning they're now turning the screw
Critics form a queue too late your fate coming for you
Will rue the wars he does renew well let him fret and stew
Always biffing and tiffing like he's been sniffing some glue
Because boo hoo after another boo-boo you're in poo
Phew and about time too..
The shoemaker dances in the morning
when he makes the children shoes;
the wind and the rain gave him a warning,
but he didn't know which to choose.
"Oh, please will you marry me, Rowena,
and I'll shower you with silver and gold;"
"No, I could never marry such a dreamer,
because a dreamer's heart is cold."
"I'm going to the station in the morning,
with a loaf of bread and a stone;
I'll leave my happy home without a warning,
and I'll travel west alone.
I'll build me a house in California
with a hammer and a nail;
you can't get your freedom by destruction,
because destruction is a jail."
___________________________________________________________
Look What Jesus Gave to Us
By Franklin Price
3/25/2015
Look what Jesus gave to us
As we approach this Easter day
He died upon the cross back then
To take our sins away
Arose and went to heaven
To join his father there
Paved a pathway for us
If we believe and care
It isn't all that difficult
To take his offered hand
To look upon the nail holes there
They're plain to understand
Did it because he loved us
To fulfill the prophesy
Of God incarnate upon the Earth
To give his life for me
There are many teachings
To get to heaven's door
You can believe them right or wrong
Believe them less or more
As for me as we approach
Another Easter Day
I believe that Jesus died for me
For me he paved the way
I'm going to write a poem from the top of my head
Similar to how a farmer maintains a homestead
There once was a witch who thought she was dead
But in reality she was just sick in the head
Every day she'd swear she was in hell
Convinced as she was, her evidence proved pale
She grew stranger by the day, covering her face with a black veil
Forgetting to bathe her scent went stale
In her mind she thought she was well
Poor wicked witch who thinks she hears bells,
Drowning in her personal hell
Wandering out of her cabin, she pursues a insane notion
She begins howling at the wolves, causing a great commotion
Chased by wolves, she's driven into the ocean
Soaking wet, uncontrollably she frets
Her ragged gown flushed from dust and her body from sweat,
The crazy witch is fetched out by a fishermen's net
Act 2
Hit her head trying to get in the boat, she sounds her own bell
The witch is knocked cold as a door nail
She got a bath today, poor witch who thinks baths are in hell
Shes awakes in the fishermen's house
Crazy witch begins to chase a mouse
Sprinting like a crazed goat,
the fishermen kicks her out and throws her in a boat
Poor witch sails off into the open sea
Dreary is she of fates decree
Alone and rocking in a rickety boat
Amazed is she that she could even float
All these insipid poems of Love
Love Lost….
Love Found….
What is this emotion that makes UP? Down?
All this frantic fretting
nail biting and bed-wetting.
What is this profound poetic notion?
What is the source of this commotion??
All these romantic, rabid, ramblings, of Love
Love Lost..
Love Found…
What is this emotion that makes UP? Down?
Palms pale and sweat,
brows furrow and frown.
All these horrid, hormonal, tizzies,
do little more than make one dizzy.
Love Lost…
Love Found…
Abandon this morose emotion
right this curse, set in motion.
And, if I may, let me suggest,
the route Narcissus took was best.
Love revealed…
Love found.
A love who’ll never let you down.
A love without product or prodigy
To fill the world with more dichotomy.
Aha...At Last,..Bitta Bing Bitta Bang
The Figurative Nail Hit On The Hair Strand Size Head!
Though no physician,
this aging baby boomer
absolutely, intuitively, and
unequivocally sensed hair loss (mine),
at first a speculative rumor
not simply in my (ahem) head,
no matter a minimalist groomer
nevertheless, thinning follicles,
upon dawning realization, sans medical
sought relief thru good humor,
though within this balding cerebral noggin
became repulsive as if my scalp
pulled pate rendered as a tumor.
Thus an unexpectedly present surprise
when in private consultation in the guise
as out patient client (early afternoon
December 19th, 2018),
where I did fraternize
and kibitz with the medical assistant
(old enough to be my...sister),
aye did exercise
mild mannered mien mean, aye do patronize
before doctor Rudolf (dearly
reigned) Roth, a practicing
Dermatologist told me no lies
his instant karma knowledge - mainly his
thirty seven years expertise
sought to excise
a prominent non cancerous mole approximately
centered middle of back
a small patch of skin,
he needed to anesthetize
nonetheless, a reassuring persona,
yours truly did lionize
(not merely, cuz
he received a five star rating,
specialist under auspices
of Penn, Medicine)
in Radnor Pennsylvania),
his modest calm did neutralize
any uneasiness, as did his pronounced
humility earn kudos to idolize
such rarely present gentility, and
unwitting capacity did harmonize,
and maximize significance to me,
asper my thinning limp
hair logically rationalize
identified underactive thyroid gland
(hypothyroidism) tubby,
which didst legitimize
no hair brained rooted concern,
hence...less reason to catastrophize',
which for no reason I
wanted to mildly emphasize,
hence choice to apostrophize...
I hold right here in my grimy little hands
The tiniest of vials
A magic elixir to cure all your ills
Guaranteed to bring you a smile
It has the finest of all ingredients
Ever concocted poured into it
From Himalayan Buddhist Monks finger nail dust
To pure Indian cobra snake spit
It'll clean you out of whatever ails you
It'll make you want to join the circus so you can eat fire
It'll burn the hair out of your ears and put them on your chest
Then want to pull them out with industrial pliers
It'll cause the old to do somersaults
And toddlers to sing gospel hymns
This magic elixir I now hold in my hands
So step right up my gullible friends
......And Let The Biding Begin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the door clicks shut
leaving only dust particles
dancing in sunbeam's path.
four walls hold their breath
waiting for footsteps
that never come.
a single nail protrudes
where a frame once hung
its shadow stretching longer with each passing hour.
the silence settles
thick as plaster dust
in corners untouched.
no echo answers
when the floorboards sigh
beneath the weight of absence.
light bleeds
across bare floors
marking time in slow degrees.
air grows stale~
withheld breath and unspoken words
condensing on the ceiling.
Although the kiss was brief
The sensation seem to linger,
His eyes still closed when he felt a pain
As she ran the razor sharp nail of her finger
His eyes popped open as he looked at his chest
She hushed him and stroked his hair while whispering “rest”
He found that he was laying on the floor
Surrounded by snow, his chest was bloody and gore
“What you doing?” he begged
“Hush I said.”
“All will be revealed in time,”
“Rest you’re now mine.”
He panicked and tried desperately to move
But could not, as if his body had been removed
She sat next to him as her tail caressed his face
The scent of a woman was pleasurable, her tail like a silky lace
She spoke “ Do you remember long time ago,”
“The beginning of your people’s sorrow?”
“Yes,” he replied
The reality of his situation dawned on him as he deeply sighed
“The sacrifice should have been from the chief’s fruits not a bearer,”
“Yes,” he replied, “A male child not female that’s what brought our terror.”
“What Happened to Little Irit?” she asked
He hesitated for a while, “She was taken by Coyote,” he said at last
“Probably eaten, how should I know.”
She whispered “That was not so.”
“I am Irit the sacrifice, not little anymore,” “They now call me Irma.”
Child of Coyote, Goddess of Devolma”
“Although you killed my father, his spirit lives in me”
She straddled him, sat on his belly leaned forward and said “Look in to my eyes and
see the fate I have for thee”
Her eyes were pools of fire
As he saw his fate, the terror made him scream out and perspire
Her fingernails slowly pushed under his chest deep inside
Slowly tearing the skin open wide
He screamed but his body did not move
He passed out, she stopped and waited until he was fully alert before continuing the
skin removal
“Medicine man where is the one that should have been given in my place?”
“Show haste and I might spare the rest of you and your face.”
The pain was to much to bare and thought he would die at that moment in time
But her words echoed in his pain “YOU ARE MINE”
“His in hiding in the great towns,” he screamed
The exposed muscles to the air was like no other pain but she had hot water on the
fire which steamed
“Hush, this is only the beginning for you medicine man she whispered….
To be continued….
The death of God implies he did exist
And of his sayings many were possessed
The still, small voice, the burning bush, its fire
The prophets ,Moses ,Jesus, Jeremiah
On God, a snail without a shell , we trod
On his face of love, we left much blood
The quick of human flesh was dragged and torn,
Oh, tortured people, God lived in your forms
Tear your finger nail side,see it bleed
Imagine pain both dreadful and unseen
Where was God’s own dwelling place, we cry
To the lowly, he was in the sky.
God was buried live in earth which shrieked
My people,where are they, ah can none speak?