Long Rat tat Poems
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If you hear the sound of rat-tat-a-tat
It's not a woodpecker or a chattering cat
Tis George F. Latulence an aristocrat
Playing ping pong with his gold crested bat.
A competitor and show-off he deems to be
Dresses each day in his noble finery
Pantaloons his normal fancy day wear
His ancestry, finery, regalia, style flair.
He never shares glory or plays with a partner
Winning trophies for himself, what he is after
Agile and swift, rarely points he would miss
The downside came, when you did get that whiff.
To gain advantage, a parp he would do
Clenching bum cheeks, in case he followed through
High class energy foods for his body to sustain
But his parping was every one else's nose bane.
George on first serve, parped, as he hit the ball hard
Swiftly attacking, George butt did bombard
In that spilt second threw off his opponent
Point gain to George, aided by his flatulent moment.
Silent and deadly they all came out fast
Odourous gas from George nuclear fueled ar$e
If one made a noise he'd give a loud grunt
That was his bum burping cover up stunt.
Knew there was trouble when audiences pulled faces
Some even fainted, brave stayed in their seat places
George didn't care, just wanted top podium status
His methods and thinking obnoxiously atrocious.
Audience faces were different shades of green
People were swaying, some even vomiting.
He called it his ping pong, parp-crafty-art farts
Next point to win, final round about to start.
The ball went to and fro like a speeding fast bullet
George, with match point, he was about to secure it
Hitting an ace, made a spark, that caused a boom blast
Left the audience with mix feelings of relief and aghast.
Breaking news of his death headlines did broadcast
Even able to download from what's called a podcast
George F. Latulence died from a blast from his ar$e,
He blew up one too many, too dense and not sparse.
May The Gas Be With You Farts Part 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
Written 07.10.21
A muted awakening this morning
By a gentle wind driven rain
Beating a light tat rat tat rat
On the half open window pane,
Waking me with the trio of
Rain, whispering breeze
And the sighing of swaying
Many branched trees,
Rolling back the memories,
Teenaged late mornings in bed
In the little village cottage
Hands clasped behind my head
In a sort of magic detached state
Of wind and tree and bird song
Peaceful, enduring, lasting
The whole day and night long.
A world never ever thought to change
But, now except in memory, long gone.
Time’s moved on, life got faster
Villages no longer isolated
As distances shrunk,
Journey times decimated
And, in my old age in my home
Once again encircled by trees
I can lie in bed in my dotage and
Once again listen to a singing breeze,
Recapture that sense of awe and peace
With a noise that can never ever fail
To bring me peace in advancing age.
Is life a circle, a snake biting it’s tail’
Does time, in some way reverse
And then restart its flow
As fashions start and stop
And trends and foibles come and go.
Sparks explode on piercing skies, to drown upon a basement of grass.
An uzi and more cannons so keenly edged glimmer bright--
soon, real soon the red of blood will run dry.
City folks' imprints fade to dust where
oppression sets sail on a once quiet land,
time gnawing urgent prayers to mumbled speech;
an end to goodness that's divinely human.
Then, a simple wish, a dream. A reality?
A wish for harmony marked long ago
still unmet , unfulfilled while bodies pile
on layered sheets fresh and damp.
So how do we know the why from which
of this endless conflict?
But pain comes and goes hat in hand,
sometimes,
victims beg for sudden death right on hallowed mud.
Sometimes, anguish hits so desperately hard , forgetting to skip a beat ,
as more sparks blare, rat-tat- tat--
until God only knows what when forgiveness of all wounds should heal ...
Under siege, on wishes never granted,
do men persist on fighting the evil this violence wields?
Stop talking at me like you know my deepest fears… ^^???^^
You know nothing. ^^&&&^^
You give orders,
strange
twisted
orders… ^^___^^
and expect
my full
complicity…
You want me to do what???? Why???? ^^()()*****()()^^
Under whose authority? ^^??^^
This is some kind of sick joke isn’t it???
Answer me!!...... ^^!!!@@$$$%$# @@!!!^^
These wary friends, my head they crowd.
This constant noise, they get so loud…
Torment, anguish, the wish to die.
The voices sound so shrill, so dry.
Rat tat tat on my skull they go
The lights have dimmed, LET'S START THE SHOW!!!
#$&%*$$$$##* @))@ @))@ @))@ @))@ …………………………..
What’s wrong with me? Where have I been?
What have I done? Why have I sinned?
What happened here?
This blood amiss.
This stranger’s fear.
This lover’s kiss?
This smoking gun.
This sickly fun.
Excited hearts go
Thump… Thump… Thump…….
Now I’m calm, I wish to rest.
Their will is done, I tried my best
Prisoner’s dilemma, these bars so thick
This pain that shoots up from the wrists.
I have written to Him the great things
Of my law but they were counted as a strange thing
My people have sown the wind, and lands
but they shall reap the whirlwind
they were counted as a strange thing
set the trumpet to my mouth
I a tat a rat tat,
This is it, this is that
As an eagle against the house
Of the Lord must turn I from God don't forsake the master's idols, what/
they the people have transgressed my covenant
and trespassed against my law
No golden idols no silver calves
gonna save me from myself, my sinful life
Israel O Israel shall cry at last my God, my God
we know thee now, we know thee then
Please Father forgive our sins
I have written to Him the great things
Of my law but they were counted as a strange thing
My people have sown the wind, and lands
but they shall reap the whirlwind
they were counted as a strange thing
Israel cast off the things that's good
Enemies shall pursue you sure
They have set up kings but not by me
They have made princes and I knew them not, you see..
Users silver and gold made idols that they may be cut off
I have written to Him the great things
Of my law but they were counted as a strange thing
My people have sown the wind, and lands
but they shall reap the whirlwind
they were counted as a strange thing
Oh, Samaria hath cast you off, God say watch your steps or you'll be lost
Mine anger is kindled against them
How long how long will it be here?
They attain to innocencey
Can't quite believe but I must forgive
I have written to Him the great things
Of my law but they were counted as a strange thing
My people have sown the wind, and lands
but they shall reap the whirlwind
they were counted as a strange thing
From Israel was it also the workman made it known
It's not god, it is not the Lord and the calf of Samaria shall be broken
God's people should never worship idols. . .
for they have sown the wind and they shall reap the whirlwind
It has no stalk the bud shall yield no meal and if so be it yield
the strangers shall swallow it up
I have written to Him the great things
Of my law but they were counted as a strange thing
My people have sown the wind, and lands
but they shall reap the whirlwind
they were counted as a strange thing
They were counted as a strange thing
10/03/12
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
So do we scoff or doff our hats
To those fat cats with the bats
If they're playing on flat mats
Cult pacts ignore facts & stats
Those bros who chose phat tatts
Bazball scribes with cool vibes scat
Imbibe tribes habit rabbit out of hats
Enjoying or cloying annoying as gnats
Media rats jibes in tit for tat spats
Drat all Bazball brats bribes just tatt
Chit chat that they're just lazy prats
Tw*ts that go bust as crazy as bats
Clowns meltdown or doubles down pat
Unjust if lust thrust through hazy slats
Rat tat & rat a tat tat must be all that!
Back to the beat
Even as the strumming sweat
Can’t wait to investigate
What we deem we procrastinate
Melody fine, blowing my mind
What beat is time
Time to watch the beat
Ever sweet
Tha’ rat a rat rat tat come on man off of that
Gimmie some sugar sweet and flow, flour do, ra, mi fa so la de
Wing tips on the wool danceN wit mine babe with stilettoes
Ever sweet
Time to watch the beat
Melody fine, blowing my mind
What beat is time
Brother break it off, break it down
Come on swept the floor play that bass and guitar
Back to the beat
Even as the strumming sweat
Can’t wait to investigate
What we deem we procrastinate
Melody fine, blowing my mind
What beat is time
Time to watch the beat
Ever sweet
Tha’ rat a rat rat tat come on man off of that
Gimmie some sugar sweet and flow, flour do, ra, mi fa so la de
Wing tips on the wool danceN wit mine babe with stilettoes
Ragtime drummer come on and hear
Ever sweet
Tha’ rat a rat rat tat come on man off of that
Gimmie some sugar sweet and flow, flour do, ra, mi fa so la de
Ragtime drummer come on and hear
Come on and serenade and dance wit me
Come here
Ragtime drummer come on and hear
9/17/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Snake bankers say, “I am doing the work of God.”
Dreaded delusional thinking
Drowning righteousness and justice
The work of God is not for them to know
Unknowingly they plan their own destruction
Great wicked vampires who suck out money
From every human and earthly source
For their special sauce bottled with rampant greed
Made in the Wall Street rat cellar kitchens
Buried deep under the City of Death
Founded by the empty mindless tribes
Still stinking of centuries of unsatisfied poverty
Whose lizard brains shuffle cash continuously
And people are seen only as THEIR money
Where everyone drinks a Satanic brew
Made by a single mother of 40
Who wanted to be a concert violinist
But now stirs sauce smiling stupidly in the rat kitchens
Where human disasters are considered treasures
And instead of music, money now runs in her veins
And she knows where every penny is lodged
Where the only sound she ever hears now
Is the snap of festering banknotes
In the mindless mad heartless pit of villainy
Where the rat-tat-tat soggy bank instruments sit
By the big thugs who once had big brains now gone bad
Picking apart whatever strand of harmony that once existed.
Brutal beasts nourished on Satan’s nippled t.ts
Goons made to kill by Wall Street witches’ clever tricks
Not clubbing baby seals in the basement
But fresh melodies made for lullabies by angels
Now cut up into dissent chunks for stew
By the money addicts directing the kitchen’s brew
While donkeys driven by carrot scented whips of cash
Haul in with brain deadening music of depraved minds the trash
Moulded into regimental rows of selfless meatballs
Defiled and self-mutilating masochists
Flushed down into the trash bin to be shredded
By the money machine with its killer appetite
Churning and churning night after night
In the shadows of its infinite emptiness
Blackened noise trying to keep death away.
There is no end to it.
Rat tat, tat, what is all that?
Pop, bang, boom,
that should not be in our room.
Now my friend that sits next to me is hurting.
Today's lesson was learning about different colors,
I never knew that reds and purples
would make me feel so faint.
Ms. Clarkson says we just be still and quiet,
without a peep.
Steven next to me is doing just that,
he seems almost asleep.
Rat tat, tat, what is all that?
Pop, bang, boom.
That should not be in our room.
More of my friends
are now resting on the floor,
I want to run for the door.
Everyone is crying,
I am crying too,
This is no dream,
I don't know what to do.
My school work is torn to pieces
and floating in the air.
Where is my mom and dad,
this all seems so unfair.
Rat, tat, tat.
Rat, tat, tat.
Rat, tat, tat.
Rat, tat, tat.
He had a dream one night that gave him such a fright
he was a Mexican laboring in a field that could not yield
sun beat hot, parched and hungry, he did not like his lot
he tossed and turned to no avail as worry began to assail
he awoke, to a steady drum in his heart rat tat tat !
Rolling out of bed he noticed that his sky was solid gray
instead of black shoes he owned a ratty pair of blues
suddenly a big wall message came to him as blessage
"feed the poor " said a voice he got the message
as he woke to a steady drum in his heart , ta ta tum
Vehicles: US$101.7 billion (24.8% of total exports)
Electrical machinery, equipment: $81.6 billion (19.9%)
Machinery including computers: $65.9 billion (16.1%)
"These are exports from my brethren kin, a precious peso
I'll invite them to my house, yes I will send them a text / reso
suddenly the Mexican sun began to shine and he felt fine
he realized that building a wall would be out of line
he awoke to the sound of rain as it fell through the drain,
with a tiny voice in his head, "Me a Mexican? thats insane!"
Feb, 6, 2019
Sponsor: Anthony Slausin