Long Rousers Poems
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Today, would never be elected!
He'd be run out of rooms.
How dare he ask us:
"Ask not what your country can
do for you, ask what you can
do for your country."
I remember being so moved by
that statement.
But our country has taken a new
direction.
And we scratch our heads, oh really?
Asking why there is so much dereliction?
Re-think JFK's question.
Stop listening to the pinheaded
supplications for renumirations.
And demands to fulfill all our
supplications.
When did we become such cry
babies and rabble rousers?
We need to stop wearing diapers
and find our trousers.
Become adults, not crabby
frowners.
June 16, 2019
10pm PST
Ominous Foreboding Augurs...
Innocuously incubated kindled
imperceptible dire strait
restlessness like tinder
with pinterest Deutsche agitate
barreling like a freight
train running so much
faster than an eight
track uber twittering,
rumbling, quickening and inculcate
dissension among dissolute
rabble rousers, who
do obediently initiate
rank and file will not abate,
boot re:reed out (bus) soon,
thence coalesces into ablegate
insidious encroachments
no longer patiently await...
ideal conditions to hatch
schism within parched
soil perfect for hate
mongers of democracy
breeds anarchy to facilitate
chaos, which quickly spreads
like kudzu, or wildfire Arson
Welles immediately forcing leader
of free world to abnegate,
(heard to trumpet "FORGET
THE WALL" mate),
(despite being caught in his
pink frilly underwear), to late
for Mar a Lago escape, where
formerly great wealth did
pool lightly coagulate
elite class heard faint stir of echoes,
then earsplitting clangorous louder
than an ICBM din (er bell)
rent asunder forcing
freedom of "FAKE
MEDIA" to abdicate
all the while pointing beringed
index finger to accentuate
his Taj Mahal ululation
interspersed veni, vedi,
veci stopping for spate
to coif (died in the will)
hirsute and aerate
said wind swept hairdo
pausing every now and again to snap
selfie portraits, plus
instagram loved ones to alleviate
that pompous, outsize,
and humongous ego fast deflate
ting into a shriveled up POTUS
float hissing boilerplate
hot airy premature ejaculations,
he would not capitulate
(sooner be rocketed
to Pyongyang and cell bate
good times with Kim
Jong-un to emasculate!
I now absolve myself
that aforementioned jest,
a tongue in cheek diatribe belies
my means to predict any forecast,
yet if any resemblance
of chance events
materializes between
my pablum childishness at best
there could arise fruitful market
for kitsch sheen collectors items
high as Mount Everest!
Once there was dingo, rabidly mad as he could be
who thought he was a Bruce of a man by how he spoke
But no man would call him their 'mate,' for you see...
he was a mongrel dog who pretended to be a bloke
The dingo who called himself 'Keefer,' was all talk-no bite
got caught chasing a galah (chicken) for want of a feast.
But ol' Keef got clawed by the rooster night after night
He was a drongo (fool) who thought he was a beast.
"Crikey!" I heard real men screaming from inside a bar
when they laughed at Keef wearing daks (male trousers)
He tucked his tail and ran from feathering with hot tar
"Get out, ya Hoon (hooligan)! We scorn rabble-rousers!
Keef was a loud mouth when he was blotto (inebriated)
Downing snag (sausages) and guzzling frothy (beer).
Tried to mate with a sheila (girl) but he'd been castrated.
Fair dinkum (that's true). He was neutered last year.
Some say he likes wearing female clothes, they swear.
He's such a hostile dingo, telling them to 'Rack OFF!'
But there's pictures of him in knickers (ladie's underwear).
and some of him before his little stub was sawed off.
I guess sometimes he gets to feeling clucky (maternal)
cuz he uses phrases like 'mother this and mother that.'
Looks like he'll end up some place heated and infernal
Dingo Keef's punishment for hurling all those brickbats.
A rabid dingo, that fool proved to be a fizzer (fizzled out)
His rants and threats to beat guys up were just a joke,
who was well-known as a bogan (hick) and a social lout
who accepted the truth. Ol' Keefer is now socially 'woke.'
Last I heard of him, he'd taken up with a mate called, Roo.
Another misfit creature roaming around in the outback
He played for hours each night, blowing into his digeridoo
because he couldn't stand Keef's braggin' and talkin' smack.
Roo felt relieved when the dingo, kinky Keefer disappeared
The one who'd been called 'the blunder from down under.
He'd mumbled for days about Milton Creek and Roo feared
that dingbat dingo would try to tear that town asunder.
Dog Master
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
Fifty dogs all different in size and shape
Impossible to tell the type of breed, mate
All the dogs have a discriptive and unique name
Irene, knows them all, for none are the same
…
Only Irene can handle and work this team of dogs
They trust and respect her in the paddock, bush and bogs
Their home in the bush a stone throw from the house
Made of tin, steel and hollow logs free of louse
…
Heading, gathering or pushing in the paddocks
In the yard, on the sheep's back, the dogs are no hicks
Commands yelled out amid the noisy barking
The dog master Irene gets the job done, she is king
…
The hounds on the hill get excited and start baying
The rousers stretch their leads in the air they spring
The horse all saddled, the men go forth with guns
Time for a Kangaroo hunt down by the creek run
…
The dogs search for sheep on the plains and hills
They gather, they drive never fearing the terrain or spills
In weather of heat, snow, cold winds or driving rain
They push the mob towards their master, Irene
…
The sheep yard-ed the dogs job is done
Head for home, horse, rider and dogs as one
All the dogs patted when the chains done up
Given a feed of kangaroo and water to warm-up
…
Snug in their kennels, worn out and asleep
Oblivious to the howling wind, cold and sleet
The dogs resting for their work is never done
As their master, Irene heads home on the run
Women of the early 1900’s should have been justifiably outraged
Owned like chattel by their men
Elections were held willy nilly
And if you did not have a willy, you were eliminated
The rare woman who thought she should be
a voter, was not even a contender for a listening ear.
Treated rather like a hog, pig, or a cow.
Ostracized by both men and other women.
Women who were given a glimpse of what
could be, by stand-up liberated women like
Susan B. Anthony did not automatically jump on the bandwagon of liberation. These loud obnoxious free-thinking women were no doubt annoying to socialized women whose February was filled with valentine chocolates and love notes rather than protests and marches. Why did the uppity women insist on equal rights and the right to vote?
Many of the well-behaved women were irritated and outraged
by the uppity attitude of these liberated women, encouraging their men
to throw these loud vulgar rabble rousers into jails.
They strongly encouraged the punitive efforts enforced on these troublemakers. Glaringly on board and fearful of change, many women were not yet ready to admit they were equal in wisdom or feelings of their men.
Sadly they did not recognize their worth or take a stand against oppression and did not insist on the right to vote for many years. Adding to the confusion of our masochistic society which even today has not allowed a woman to be President.
Anti Establishmentarian - hashtags himself as antithetical
I stand, (albeit figuratively) athwart
current mainstream popular opinions concluded
(i.e. swirling) within
metaphorical eddies storied Senate high court
case in point constituting acquittal regarding
good and plenti jinxed
high crimes and misdemeanors
purportedly linkedin quid pro quo
president Donald John Trump,
whereby Republican partisan tipping point
ultimately decreed triumph
able, eager, ready, and willing to escort
kickstarting naysayers, rebel rousers,
and woebegone yawping zealots
(think Democrats) courtesy,
a fictional humanoid robot christened Gort
first debut appearance in 1951
20th Century Fox American science
fiction film The Day the Earth Stood Still.
Smug mugshot depicts
victorious commander in chief with jutting jaw
can now figuratively wring his hands
(more resembling puffed wheat bear paw)
whereat he reveals sharp glistening
barbed freighted, galvanized pointed claw
daring any elected official to follow scofflaw
(think Nancy Pelosi, who got hustled off -
her role as speaker of the House
security details immediately did withdraw
faster than greased lightning,
and/or Quick Draw Mcgraw
after she ripped Trump’s
State of the Union speech),
she definitely decreed guilty of fas paux
undoubtedly wincing how she got raw
end concerning high stakes Art of the Deal.
Drama under domed capital suddenly
(hello kitty) meow my
tectonically shifted analogous
to hydrogen bomb that fell out of sky
starring loose cannon shot
supremely above United States government law,
oh my dog I wanna die
versus enduring four more years,
one garden variety generic guy
who doth agonizingly decry
what will become of truth tellers forced to lie
thru their teeth...
er (yours truly) dentures, whereby
that will pose no deterrent for bluetooth to spy
every painstaking action cumulative data
nowhere off limits, yupper even
becoming American as apple pie
plus embedded into skein of ordinary house fly,
thus essentially fomenting grassroots
freedom fighting militia to stave off doom...
analogous as one after another protesters
dangle over the River Kwai.
No, no, no~ the human race is far from going away.
Some of our brightest days, ever...are definitely headed our way.
Don't let rabble rousers in the streets acting like fools and clowns.
Dampen the human spirit of you, your family or your hometown.
Fools and anger, a horrendous mix, like a cocktail gone awry.
You watch them poured on you, alas, by satellite shakers in the sky.
That's their job, to cause you to worry and to fret.
Do not listen to these cynical, high priced fools, whom you have never met.
Make your plans, dream your dreams, there always is a tomorrow.
Alas, if you have none, alas , you might face emptiness and sorrow.
June 15, 2020.
2pm PST
Poem # 1,244
An exaggerated style, the zoot suit
was a statement in clothes.
Yet it fell into ill repute,
history shows.
Outlandishly flamboyant and distinct:
comedy was its roots.
Clothes came from the Harlem precinct:
called culture suits.
With their wide lapels and baggy trousers:
they were ostentatious.
And favored by rabble-rousers;
loose and spacious.
Worn by African-American youth
and poor Mexican teens.
They looked rebellious and uncouth;
much more than jeans.
Oft accessorized with a gold key chain:
and a fedora hat.
Frisco sailors showed their disdain;
armed with a bat.
More about color than flashy fashion:
racial riots broke out.
All those beat without compassion:
left little doubt.
THE RABBLE-ROUSERS:
Can't define the last time we met.
That moment was very historical.
And it's always kept with a reminisce,
Since we all remain simply antithetical.
And it proves there's a mark of a refurbish,
Which shows our power as individuals.
That day could be full of benevolence,
Or possibly, it was totally a nightmare.
Probably I might have caused you some pain?
If so then,I'm selflessly sorry...
But what if you rather made me feel disdain?
Well, I don't wish you keep that as a worry,
Because I attribute you with a good memory.
So don't be bedridden with regrets.
Merely have a peace of mind,
For there to be a relaxation for your beating heart.
We're obviously the truths and lies we believe in.
And I'm sure destiny meant it all as we're living,
For us to understand the concept of humanity.
But as our thoughts and actions tread freely,
Some do regard themselves better than others,
Sadly in this impermanent place of ours.
And those people are 'Rabble-rousers'.
Who literally breeds anger and fracas,
By causing so many lives to be seen as failures.
Unto them do I trigger my bullets to eliminate.
Just to serve the downcast a dose of elevate,
In order to heal every heart based on a conjugate.