Long Nuisance Poems
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A weasel wibble wobbling can be said to have ingested copious amounts of indemonstrable indelible ink today as it soared into doorways, hallways, cloakrooms, and buffet tables. Buffet tables are neither buffaloes or bongos. In fact they are a pleasant sight to behold. Many colours. Many tastes. And the sounds of chatting from the sandwich stack is delightful especially when the mayonnaise is chuckling away at the jokes told by the ham and cheese. Little dainty cup cakes are immature so a quality conversation cannot be held. And the large jug is rather unintelligible and uninteresting as it yawns away the hours before the consumption takes place. The operatic oversized plate of soprano pineapples and chords of cheese with onions today but the mighty weight of the plate of rice and pasta salad bangs away and interrupts the acts really so the sauces must line up and push the nuisance plate to the floor and this they did. The dog was very very pleased and lay down after eating it all for a doze. And over half a dozen eggs kept jumping up and down and throwing their mayonnaise hats off. We font want these hats. We want whipped cream they shouted. The despondent tablecloth groaned. Another booming buffering buffet. And then the cutlery began having races between the foods. Zoom zoom zoom. Wow. The might of the jar of gherkins was being prayed to by the punnet of strawberries. And the profiteroles were preforming Pilates to an amused potatoe salad. The salt and pepper were arguing over who got used the most. And the coleslaw was diving on and off the pizza slices which annoyed the pepperoni who shouted go away in a very high pitched voice. Buffet battling bemusingly being buttering breadsticks. And now the time had arrived. The hungry swans and tulip people were here. They saw the mess. Blamed the dog. Then walked out in disgust. Oh dear. The tablecloth picked itself up and all it's contents too then went out of the back door and soared off in the air. It landed on a busy beach where it fed lots of little sea urchins. Who were grateful. They gave the tablecloth an ice cream to say thanks. Then the tablecloth went into the sea and swam to the island of the nine figs. Great isn't it. Ha ha the waves want wands. Hahaha boats bouncing into the sky. Left angled fueled fuel vision of a visionary variant spelling of mid. Xxxxx contemplation z z z z in a kiosk z
Form:
3 strikes…you’re out!
I’ve given you way too many chances…
Do you expect more?
You left me empty-handed… your insufficiency advances…
3 strikes…you’ve ran out of chances
But I’m kind enough to buy you some more
Or maybe I have some in store
You’ve pushed it to the limits
I’M TELLIN’ YOU TO QUIT IT
When you throw your tantrums… your foolish fits
I’m tellin’ you to lay off of me…
You treated me like dirt and grime
You have only one last chance…
Will you stop acting irrationally?
Don’t screw it up this time…
3 strikes…GET out of my sight
Get out of my life – there’s the front door
You’re killin’ me with your insanity
3 strikes… don’t pout!
Could you JUST leave me alone tonight?
I’ve given you a bunch of options,
But you were heedless of my vanity…
You’ve tortured me with your profanity
You’ve punctured me with your
lies and your brutality
You’ve defeated me with your
nightmarish reality
Why do you hunger for my agony?
3 strikes…there’s no way out
Of your devious trap…
You’re blaming me for your downfalls
3 strikes…good riddance…get out!
You’ve never answered my calls,
So just desert me…
Let me escort you to the front door
Leave me alone…I don’t love you anymore
You’ve really tried my patience
I’m tellin’ you to leave me be…
You still don’t listen to me – I want you to flee
I want you to be set free
Get out of heart…
Get out of my house…
Get out of my head…
Get out of my life!
You’re the magnet of strife
You’ve invited corruption in my life
It strangles me like a thick rope around my neck
It stabbed me like a butchering knife…
You’re so heartless and pathetic…you’re a wreck
I’m tellin’ you to bother someone else, you lunatic
You have lost your only chance,
You repulsive prick
3 strikes…you’ve got no luck
I’ve given you escape routes and you weren’t grateful –
You don’t even say, “Thank you” for all of the things I do for you
3 strikes…
YOU SNOOZE. . . YOU LOSE. . .
Are you still a ruthless soul?
You’re hanging by a thread – and you haven’t got a clue
Go ahead!
Leave my presence,
YOU nuisance!
You're trying my patience...
I would leave if I were you...
I loathe your ignorance...
But, you just stand there like a fool!
You're taking advantage of me...
Throwing me out in the dumpster like a futile tool
--(Screw)-- you... Please leave me...
You have added to my anxiety
You have done enough
damage as it is...
(In a 19th-century legal judgment studied by all who
learn the English common law, Sturges v. Bridgeman,
the court found in favour of a "nice" doctor over a
"common" manufacturer, for reasons of pure snobbery.)
The Candyman Can’t
Some legal battles have the power to thrill,
while others never have, and never will.
Some touch on human themes which really matter,
and some do not. We’re dealing with the latter.
This present case is hardly OJ Simpson:
it lacks dramatic shape, and simply limps on
listlessly, with abstruse reasoning,
no sex or violence to give it seasoning.
One Mister Bridgman manufactures sweets,
in premises where Wigmore crosses/meets
its neighbour, Wimpole. Eighteen seventy-nine
of our salvation, two lives intertwine
when Doctor Sturges takes consulting rooms
around the corner. Disagreement looms,
for Bridgman’s grinding, pounding candy line’s
destroying Sturges’ peace, fragging his mind.
The law of nuisance really is quite funny.
It says, “he did you harm? Well, here’s some money”.
What if you’d rather dodge the damage, and
defer the dollars? How to countermand
the duty-breach-then-damages regime?
Suppose we interpose a better scheme?
Instead of “you must suffer, he must pay”,
we stop the harm? The problem goes away!
This ruse is known as “equity”. It functions
by granting prior relief (they’re called injunctions).
So Sturges stemmed stentorian sweetie sounds
by order of the court, and Bridgman found
his business gagged and bound by hoops of steel,
for no good reason. What to do? Appeal!
(For thus advise the lawyers. Such affairs
drag on for years. The lawyers? They get theirs!)
Said Bridgman: “I’ve been cranking out jujubes
for decades now. It’s all gone down the tubes
because some quack dislikes the earnest hum
of my devices. Why, then, did he come
to Wimpole Street? He wants tranquility?
Go hang his shingle in Highgate Cemetery!
I have a remedy for Doctor Sturges:
it’s swallowing his antimony purges!”
But Bridgman lost. One cannot help but feel
that making toffee wasn’t quite genteel
enough. Their Lordships said behaviour
that’s unacceptable around Belgravia
can find a home in Bermondsey. The latter
has lots of lowly types. It doesn’t matter
if they have noisome noise, and have to live
in filthy fumes – for they’re not sensitive.
My appointment didn't show up today
So I decided to hang out and play
I circled around Ellanor's Park
wandering about in the dark
and thinking about the road ahead
The rain has just fell leaving mud
and water on the swampy ground
The pokemon go gang was playing around
disturbing nature with their silly sound
They walk up and down the wet grass
communicating with their partners
One by one two by two they showed up and join the crew
As soon as I arrived more of them anchored down
creating nuisance and spreading bad energy around
Luckily the Gods were lingering by to listen to my silent cry
They came down form the sky and spew them out of sight
so that nature could sing and dance about
On by one they jump into their cars
and drove out of Ellanor's park
I closed my car and walked over to an old bulldozer
stationed on the park's ground
the equipment was so old
I wonder if I was still in America
The owner was not around
so I climbed up and sat in the chair
and examined the levers and gears
I was captivated by a certain power
It felt good sitting in an elevated tower
It has been parked there for many days
Rust and dirt was musing on its face
No work was going on and the pile of sand
stood waiting on the ground for the fix it man
The same roads that were repaired
has been dug up and repaired year after year
The paved parts are lean and bumpy
And when I drive my truck rocked side to side
Where are the professional engineers
Cheap labor has sucked every penny out of the mill grinder
And America's roads are in danger
I watched them prowling up and down the street
Trying to figure out my heart beat
But I sat in the big old bulldozer scrutinizing them all over
I felt a sudden rush of power
I felt like a queen in her parlor
And I felt like a queen riding in a carriage
Waving to the magnificent crowd shouting out loud
If the owner was around I would ask for permission
To drive it up and down and through the town
Wolfish influence peddlers
Big belly contractors and poor skills workers
has feasted on the wallet of the county for years
But now I am in the bulldozer and I am getting
ready to run some one over
America needs a constitutional face-lift
Here I am in this big old bulldozer
feeling energetic and strong
I am ready to dig up and tear down the remaining barriers.
I was a city born and city bred young fellow,
whose shoes had mostly only touched concrete and tar.
Oh yes I had seen grass, but out on a footy ground
and my entertainment was drinking at a nightclub bar.
As a city bred young bloke I had never seen the stars
for blanket smog and neon lights had blocked them out.
I never knew what clean air was, nor really cared at all,
and rain was just a nuisance that I could do without.
I had no idea where food comes from - why should I?
I just hand across ten dollars, and bingo! In my hand,
is warm and crispy chicken with leaves I throw away,
and chocolate milk comes in a carton with a brand.
But I’m informed one morning, this is not the case.
Milk, like cheese and butter, and yoghurt too somehow,
comes to the city from the country, for us city folk.
And I didn’t quite believe - from the inside of a cow.
A cow! I’ve never seen a cow. What’s a cow look like?
That’s right! I admit I’d not seen a cow in all me life.
I barely knew the difference, between a cow and a pig,
until in a nightclub - that’s where I met me future wife.
Jean is a lovely girl; so pretty, and near rural to the core.
She knows every breed of cow that is written in the book.
Jean has milked them, immunised, dehorned them in a crush,
so she’s quite strong in the arm and can land a great left hook.
I’m talking of me own experience; me jaw is still quite sore.
The lesson that I learnt is to choose words more carefully.
I’m not sure if the listeners sed at what I had said,
or were pleased to see an enraged woman acting like a bully.
Since we had married in the city, and lived in a city flat,
me darling Jean for many months suggested time and time again,
we should go back to her hometown where Jean promised me,
that I will finally see a cow and Jean won’t have to explain.
Now I’ve seen Friesians, Jerseys, Guernsey’s, Ayrshire’s;
I’ve eyed Poddy Calves, yearling Heifers, Bulls and Steers.
I’ve become an expert on cows, and just what is required.
I know everything that’s needed about cows so it appears.
But when lecturing colleagues with Jean close by me side,
it became the catalytic weapon to cause a murderous scene,
for I proudly uttered loudly without consequential fears,
that I had never seen a cow until - I met my wife Jean.
FABEL EIGHT
FABEL EIGHT
Ignorance is Bliss
CharlaX Fables
People argue they agree among themselves on stupidity to be the ruler of them
all it was so laughable not even rude at all just stupid and appalled. To the
purists among mye readers this is written in the winter not the fall the words do
tremble at the writer's test the writers want. Ignorance is bliss. Listen gentle
reader to this twist.
A man was near me on the bus a largesse man with a WINTER hat and GLOVES
upon his head now wait please stop of course eye meant the hat was on his
head the gloves were somewhere else. The joggers went near the bus the bus
was honking at a car they moved in tandem to the music each one was listening
to something different eye suppose. They went to JOG upon the road. As these
people moved on past the man was heard to say “it is way too early in the day for
joggers in the way”. The women near to me they numbered three they all began
to say and to agree among themselves the joggers are out there in the dark. Now
here is where the ignorance does come. Eye began to speak and so of course
they then had to disagree with the mee. Eye began to say a profound thing “it is
way too cold for them to be jogging like that”. “Oh no” they said, as if eye was a
monster as if they had it planned “there is no cold the cold does not exist we
meant its dark the dark had hold of them and they should not be jogging in the
dark like this but cold oh no it's not too cold” they all pitched in and left me
thinking that the eye was in the Twilight Zone again. “Of course it's cold” eye tried
again but they were sure they had me now and to a person they each one piped
up loud It is only the dark is all we meant and not the cold at all?” Eye tried again
this time surely they will agree with this old man “ Yes it is cold out there there is
no one wearing shorts yet in this January day?” And then eye left my seat and
moved for eye was in the way of ignorance and bliss for they ignored me anyway
for eye was reason in the face of added nuisance as the gaggle kept the play.
Eye kept silence in the back of the bus all to myself the wounded pride intact so
sure that eye was right about the cold.
best thing of all eye could no longer hear them getting old.
just moments ago, a dawning realization
arose within this sol son begat
from ma late mother
and octogenarian widower father,
oh..no nothing cat
tuss strophic, boot merely the revelation,
how fist bumping dee clocks hour hand ahead
remembered by dat
dog gone refrain spring ahead, and fall back,
this unemployed chap doth down play eclat
attests that his quotidian schedule minimally effected
holed up here in Highland Manor named flat
roomy enough for thyself, the Missus,
and buzzfeed ding fruit flies
each approximately the size of a gnat
a minor nuisance, though tolerable
within this appealing habitat
where minor inconvenience experienced
by this Schwenksville, Pennsylvania resident
cuz as a recipient of social security disability
(social anxiety) this psyche didst get rent
which fixed (unearned) income budgeted
and predominantly costs of living money spent
hence no need to arise bright tailed and bushy eyed,
a freedom akin to folks camped out in a tent,
which exemption immunizes
this doodle ling middle aged
muddle brained chap subject ranting
early morning drivers,
who angrily, frenetically,
and splenetically rant and vent
thus, the tendency, piquancy, and lunacy
to twitter (for the Yardbirds),
and keep company with night owls, who went
a hooting for all the world wide web
to hear, whence dawgs Bach
the exact number of hours, yer oblivious
to the tight rigorous mortised schedule
manned by Mister Clock,
essentially foisting on Bread Winners,
an abstract artificial construct spurring
madcap commuters to scurry in the rat race,
lest tardiness could cost
more than paycheck
(to ap pier with permanent dock
hue ment aye shun),
an unwonted blot add hoc
king worry about getting canned -
i.e. on permanent furlough,
perhaps forced into a life of crime,
yet if caught...
wasting away in a jail cell
as warden turns the lock
one redeeming factor,
would offer opportunity to mock
management, and more pertinently
mandate to rock
and roll to the incessant muted,
yet devastatingly loud tick tock.
He sat himself down on the edge that evening with the gravest of sadness trickling with his tears and a whimper that shook his body. As he fixed his position to one more suitably comfortable, he watched as his legs languidly wandered with the strong evening breeze. The blue evening sky shimmered off the water below, above whom birds flocked as they admired themselves as they glided in graceful harmony. The young man, admiring the birds as they fluttered, watched helplessly as his tears fell- in hope that they would make tiny ripples in the calm river hundreds of feet below. As he stared listlessly in the depths of the river, with whom a dark blue colour glimmered, he wandered whether it's darkness marked a towering depth. As he questioned such thoughts, he clutched his chest sorrowfully and tried to distract his attentions to the nearby cars as they exalted weary noises in their locomotion on the bridge. Not wanting to be any more of a nuisance than he was compelled to believe, he tried spiritedly not to pay attention to the banquette of horns rearward, as he thought it non-polite to engage with passing drivers who drove their cars on such an elevated road whose height pierced clouds asunder. He placed his hand in his pocket as it struggled from the powerful wayward breeze, and took out his wallet. Grasping the photo of his love as further tears graced his cheeks, he turned it around and examined the note on the back which read: "I shall always love you, for all eternity". On reading her avowal and watching his tears douse the picture, he smelled her photo; which retained a small monument of her rosy scent, and he sniffled sullenly. He stood to his feet and relinquished the photo as he watched it descend in a flittered free-fall. Suddenly he was struck and echoes of gunfire palpitated the evening air as motorists watched helplessly, and the young man tumbled as his body rotated with the gun as it perforated the breeze below and hit the water with an almighty blow.After a few minutes, the waters calmed and caught his body as it sank to mighty depths.
He now slept, and romance was now at peace and she smiled as she accosted herself with the forever knowledge that the young lover now danced in towering depths, unloved, for all eternity.
Number forty six - White House occupant re:
guarding President elect Joe Biden
Within mein hermitage
now dwells one euphoric troglodyte who wept
upon hearing unbelievable news,
(albeit at snail's pace schlepped
finally proclamation emancipation
gave reasonable rhyme yours truly to ejaculate
(not prematurely), subsequently I leapt
into the air, and kept
myself aloft completing
one after another sumersault and except
for minor nuisance of gravity
nevertheless landed feet first and crept
back into mine mancave adept
to survive alone in the wilderness.
Seventy four million popular votes
tallied across country,
gives ample reason to grind hips and bump,
(cuz the most votes
cast for any presidential candidate in history),
which Republican contender finally plopped
hook line and anchored
courtesy Taj Mahal replica sinker
into dustbin of history
good riddance electorate voted out
loutish oaf, which voters chose to dump
best mandated to cavort with zoot suited frump
on any given Wednesday available to hump
rotund barenaked lady merging
into humongous protoplasmic lump.
Caught red handed concerning
more'n where's the beef
stole 2016 election
under nose of Hillary Clinton
abused role, when tasked
as commander in chief
good ole Charlie Brown nemesis
caused nothing but grief,
hence yours truly quite elated
upon occasion when figurative new leaf
turned over and booted out
as more onerous than Baghdad thief.
Hit the ground running
with nary a second to waste
Joe Biden, Kamala Harris and company
proving their steely eyed mettle
after victory lap Democrats did taste
usher in COVID-19 game plan
bolstering pandemic defences
where prior administration sorely misplaced
priorities United States Lady Liberty
wantonly, undeservedly, subsequently
her reputation disgraced.
Hope springs eternal - ah tis amazing grace
yours truly suddenly brimming with optimism
able bodied diverse cabinet to erase
formerly inept sycophants with intentions base
running amok within White House
at long last competent candidate won the race
adieu Donald Trump, who
did disappearing act at Mar-A-Lago without a trace
sore loser teed off absent American
delivering his humiliating defeat coup de grâce.
As I view flat prairie with mountain range beyond, morning sunshine warms me
and I know by afternoon, fierce storms may gather without warning.
I envy not the urban dweller rushing to and fro amidst stark cement barriers.
Yes, small town life suits me…
I’ll not trade nights laying head on pillow as moonlight pierces the darkness
and coyotes cry to the far reaches like their ancestors before…No, never!
I could not, would not, give up the freedom found in these open spaces
where peaceful Amish plow behind horses harnessed in leather strap.
I proudly tell inquisitors, I met my husband dancing at the old grange hall,
then settled on the ranch his kin claimed and worked three generations back.
I feel safe, protected here among friends in this quaint little town.
Crime is not a factor—not a priority one deals with on a daily basis.
Trips to market bring no snarled traffic, no changing lights of red, yellow, green.
Welcome is felt, not heard from silent voices behind familiar smiling eyes.
On unpaved roads I return as dust fills nose and eyes, making me sneeze
but it’s joy rather than nuisance as I jog along in our old pickup truck.
Here the family is strong, unified—respect for elders required,
blending generations of those who tamed the land before us.
Sunday church services overflow with scrubbed and shining faces
as preachers spread harmony and warnings from the Good Book.
Camaraderie and sportsmanship are taught in this small town.
Proud parents gather in crowds to support their team at each and every event.
Discipline and morals form traditional characteristics of the region,
and authority is respected on all levels, patriotism honored.
Our children do not stray to the bright lights of the city
vandalizing, joining lost souls seeking acceptance on mean streets.
Early evening sounds of slumber echo thru’ thin walls of this old farmhouse
for morning chores greet our kids, us, in this game of sweet survival.
No, I do not envy city folks or opportunities I may have missed therein,
nor do I allow them to bring me scorn, or take pity on my soul.
I gain my worth from one greater, wiser, more forgiving than mere mortals…
I hear the voice of my Creator, and I follow where He leads.