Long Sawed off Poems
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Come on over and have some spore soup, she said.
If I ate that stuff, I knew I would be quickly dead.
I had already had surgery on my foot, it was a tumor.
A spore had been the cause of it, that’s no rumor.
I pictured that soup with a dead foot floating around.
It would have blood gushing from it, turning red brown.
I saw the toenails, they were ugly, jagged, and crusty.
I am stepping on a nail tonight, I told her. And it is all rusty.
Can’t you step on the nail some other time? She asked me.
No, and then I have to have a tetanus shot. Sorry, Aunt Bee.
My husband rolled his eyes and told me how awful I was, after that.
But he did not see that sawed off foot floating in the soup vat.
sawed-off on the
crimson emerald from a cloudy sky
squeal
and, at times, the reason
low-slung why
sparkles of a pearly salver
modicum of encrusted damask mist
befuddles me
albeit
moon, amber, and opalescence
spawn a charming sight
the perspective
strikes each crevice of the flesh.
and psyche advise
shrouded in a cinereous cloud
hapless and helpless, a glum-blue wolf
growls out a bluesy bemoan.
creating a lacuna
of gallivant love touchstone
leaden wails of anguish
rhythmic echoed refrain
plainchants of auric yearning
reminiscent of challah
aiming for eleemosynary seeds
cahoots to germinate and thrive
2nd place contest winner
Written: March 20, 2023
A Strand No 1201 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Sam, Sam, the drunken man
Hiccup, hiccup, stagger
Sprayed by the skunk again
Stench replaces swagger
Uncle is a rebel
Standards sinking lower
His Lust rings the death knell
Evil hands him over
Hiding in the closet
Moving from the shadows
Twist the truth to posit:
"Counterfeit their credos."
Urge grows ever stronger
Evil, even bolder
Acts are growing wronger
Sin the grim slave-holder
Sam, Sam, I know your plan
Play up victim chatter
Play down the bogeyman
Censor subject matter
Uncle is a front man
Paid to shill and tell lies
Lots of circus but no bread
The simpleton complies
Mocking moral wisdom
Bucking discipline's yoke
Twist the honor system:
"'Love your neighbor,' a joke."
Your debt is piling up
God's wrath, boiling over
Closer is His shake-up
When judgment takes over
Sam, Sam, you feckless man
Your gambit won't pay off
You shortened your life span
Your dying branch sawed-off
Uncle is agnostic
Paganish and profane
Justice is sarcastic
His rulings are insane
God's kindness towards you
Will no longer remain
Vengeance is overdue
Consequences are plain
Cut from His olive tree
Due to your unbelief
Uncle's owed penalty
Acquits God's faith motif-
"Faith is not a Schemer"
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.
The war it's cold with no signs of any ending, it's like adding another twenty years to a life sentence, even in the heat of the moment lies a cold kitchen, with lukewarm souls, in a dark prism, what's a prison to a free spirit, probably on the scale that some of us think we're worthy of Gods merits, here in the west we know nothing of true devastation, Christians over here see persecution as being verbally abused, the war is cold and that's what they claim their hearts are, but I know real saints who died for the cause real martyr's, and that's a real thug not the lames that holla thug life cuz they gotta brick and a sawed off, I wonder would you still die for ya block if they made you watch ya kids get their ligaments sawed off, the war is cold and everybody claim they gotta heart to match it, but wouldn't dare die for their comrades no full metal jacket, this cold war is heating up is enough ever enough, spiritual warfare is live and well enough bodies to fill up countless dump trucks, only the strong survive and by survive I mean live on in eternity, going threw hell on earth stepping outta that firery furnace with no wounds where the Messiah rains so fervently