Long Shenanigans Poems

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Labor Day 2021

Courtesy of one or more tradesmen, 
first Monday in September set aside
for employees able, eager, ready 
and willing to acquire money 
to marry groom or bride
climb the corporate ladder or 
become an artisan, entrepreneur, technician 
to side step getting rung, drafted 
like an oxen plow, commandeered and chide
by management as insubordinate 
till retirement or join kiln fields once died

from over exertion, yet nonetheless 
sweat of brow efforts praised I espied 
searching me noggin brief history re: 
aforesaid day, where barbecues fried
dispersed aromas recognizing efforts 
of workers with quality control as guide
grievances against danger challenged 
sense and sensibility stalwart did not hide
the shenanigans that took place inside

boardrooms in tandem with glories of 
American made products from those
who put figurative nose to grindstone – 
just common everyday Jane's and Joe’s
who weathered extreme temperatures, 
whereby bodies froze
but thanks to those who battled elements 
at large and snatched doze

birth of brute efforts eventually 
earned reserved renowned
borne couple shy of 
nineteenth century, whence sound
of industrial silence replaced with 
parades where hoof beats did pound
burgeoning and bustling city streets 
echoed along hardened ground
fealty to country soldered 
with faith, federation union freedom 
and job security did thence abound,

which holiday underwent 
transformations as bustle
and hustle proved myth regarding 
land of milk and honey – 
from straining of muscle
whereby life, liberty and pursuit 
of happiness less of physical tussle 

set (thank you Masons and Dixons) 
cornerstone to an invisible 
complex edifice originally from New York
forgotten builders, farmers, machinists, 
et cetera who laid groundwork
wrought by destruction 
from Civil War largesse and pork
loosed from the bottle in 
Antebellum South, when off flew cork
freeing a genie, which became rendered
supremely courtly poet, i.e. this former dork.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Uncomfortable Truths About Wars

Lethal Thermobaric Bombs
Also known as vacuum bombs
Sucking the oxygen out of the air
For many miles. Nuclear and cluster bombs
And the worst of the sickest bombs
Of all: obvious racism at the borders
Life is never, never, never fair
Even in war, for many brothers and sisters
The shelling will not stop
Too many explosives are being popped
Innocent and young people are dying
And the hypocrites, the racists
The murderers, the war-mongers
The cowards, the propagandists
The shenanigans, the monsters
The fakers, the sinners and the liars
Are on the very top of their games
What a shame! They shoot all blames
Toward the victims and the innocents
Remember the shameful wars
Remember the shattered lives
Remember the blaring sirens
Remember the supersonic sounds
Remember the deafening cries
Remember the powerful roars
The constant shelling makes no sense
Because children are being killed
That's a lethal and deceptive ploy
Real humans should build
Not bomb, not destroy
I am pissed
For Peace
It's shameful and despicable that no one wants
To live by the rules. Where is the common sense? 

Copyright © March 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Form: Rhyme

Sans Scribbling Scrolling, Scrounging Scrunching Scrying Scribe Section Sixty

the following quite quirky epistle may not exhibit the ordinary characteristics of poetry, but i decided to share this self made challenge (where every word begins with the letter "S" - no explanation can be offered why such self cerebral torture imposed, nor what motivated me to focus on the nineteenth letter of the english alphabet at the exclusion of other noble vowels and consonants.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Sunday September seventh started seemingly same since...silver screen show secured seventy seven SeventhSeals. 

Soupy Sales supreme salient strengths (starring smart pet sidekick Springer Spaniel Socrates) salvaged sagging sporting sorties. Slap stick stereotypical swashbuckling shticks supplied shipshape shenanigans. 

Spartan stage set spurred spontaneous simply stupefying solution. Suede shod schlemiel. Sartre seasoned scenes. Sharp sticks supported sphere. Seats situated semicircular semblance. 

SPCA, Siemens, Sears sponsored soiree. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious shouted satirically 'specially Saturdays seemingly sellout. Spontaneous spritely Shogun Samurai sangroid stance satiated slipups stripping stellar seasoned Skidamarinks substitutes sacredly, seminally, silently, slipstreaming soulfully saving saga. 

Sometimes silly spouse studiously sought spurious strategy stringing superlatives showcasing senseless sophomoric soporific skills specifically spelling storybook sassy sharpshooters supposedly sleuthing shapeless seated sideways (sic seasonal slate smug spotified snapchatting skippers selfishly scooped sloop-ful seasonal six-packs) sinister Swiss scalpers sat sometimes squatted.

ale and horses

Ale and horses

There was only one brewery in our hometown covering the whole district on flat-bed wagons with 50 horses
to get work as a driver was a sought-after occupation
when crates had been delivered at one grocer there was 
usually the sharing of a bottle of beer which during the day amounted to a fair of ale.
At the time a left-wing Christian political party was in power and used its position to deny licenses to cafes
and restaurants that often went bankrupt.
This banning of alcohol policy didn't stop people from 
drinking they made their own tipple a mjod called 
“Sats” Say, a big milk churn, sugar, yeast, water, and a bit of leftover fruit, a few weeks near a warm place, and when sieved the result was a hazy-looking substance 
stronger than beer.
It is always difficult when a government gets to banning 
mood like closing restaurants because it can lead people into temptation when the truth is they want people to pay more in taxes.
Tobacco is heavily taxed for health reasons, but that is not quite true, cigars are still relativistic cheap because
it is what the toffs smoke
the pleasure killers realized that more and more people 
were buying chewing tobacco overlooked by the good doers, too late this year but they will hit users of this harmless drug by taxing it to the rafters, telling people it is bad for you knowing people will still chew.
There are two political parties one is conservative and will allow as long as we oversee financial corruption 
the over party is well-meaning, we have to pay taxes to help some country people  who don't where it is
in the name of brotherhood, only to see the leaders are
knee-deep lost cash and sexual shenanigans.
As for the people, they can do as they did before, make
“Sats”
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Prevalence of Purposelessness

Early in life worthlessness prevailed employ
ying gnawing, infecting thought processes
did more than annoy
rooted, short circuited, and tasered
flickr happiness lived

spontaneous bobbing sponging buoy
clinging to mother's
apron string series
of unfortunate events
conspired to destroy

that extremely introverted
shy locked lad, and somewhat coy
no matter bred from Jewish stock,
his existence he did not enjoy
he knew no more of Semitic heritage,

and for all intents and purposes,
said life devoid of joy,
now late in his life shill
still coon sitter himself a goy.

This corporeal body orbited sun
at woof lee light warp speed,
no mortal can outrun
decades spun ever
faster than speeding bullet

from most high powered gun
or analogous to none
other than miniature whirling dervish
gyroscopic combination dreidel won
dress lee resembling

dicey snake eyes on fire all fun
and games by expert
watergate burglar nixon
argh...burned his legacy
Gerald ford did pardon

can of worms best not open
infamous administration
equally as full of shame
as Trump shenanigans,
he need put in place
rather than blame,

thus someone must tame
perhaps yours truly - not as lame
as presumed, unless ye might be game
eldest sister of mine suggested to aim
site as political activist bandwagon and

thus ineluctably claim
feeling glad to right Dame
Liberty, now a mockery, I exclaim
where land of milk and honey
necessitates more apropos name
oh...of course a
suitable avatar and meme!
Form: Bio


Premium Member Looking For a Brain

Having a CT Scan in a couple of days
Most likely looking for a brain
Hope they find something that resembles such
Of course that might be a strain

Might think the Scanner is no longer working
Nothing's showing up on the screen
Came up with a idea for having some fun
Pulling the plug and hearing them scream

“Look at this, this man's missing a brain”
Never in the annuls of medicine
Have they come across this rare phenomenon
Head's filled with a stuff like gelatin

Literally ten doctors quickly appeared
All looking astonished, taking notes
Chuckling to myself at the fuss I've created
Reporters came looking for quotes!

Finally had to tell them of my fun little gig
But most didn't find it too funny
Told me, “Lie down and no more shenanigans
Or the nurse will call in your Mummy!


© Jack Ellison 2015
Form: Narrative

Exhortations Against Ole Saint Nick

the (better late than never) 
free admission confession, exhortations against Ole Saint Nick

treasured untold shenanigans of Santa, 

his elves and reindeer discovered only 

by colluding via "FAKE" fluke 

did I manage to worm winning the trust

among Christmas elves and reindeer

confident this generic guy,

would never breach scandalous

tidbits, into an underground impregnable

air-raid shelter, the Motley Crue

tied blindfold over my eyes, didst steer

me hermetically sealed, 

which crawl space required me to hunker

sound (cloud) proof bunker

while ensconced (security detail munchkins,

who just so happened tubby *****

minded entrance portal)

only after getting the thumb up signal,

whereat nose pies planted

espionage surveillance devices

the chief head honcho and attendants,

Smoky and the bandits respectively,

magically, and handily did appear

and despite one hundred percent bug-free, 

a whispered stance opted just to make sure 

no unwanted eavesdropper could overhear

plus every participant swore an oath, cuz

any leaked real or “FAKE” information,

would spell imminent demise to be near

the upshot, sans grave emergency

describing clandestine arraignment

involving some rogue elf 

(most likely at least two),

and a misbehaving reindeer

(names withheld to avoid any spoiler alert),

plus this entire kit and caboodle

necessary to help Saint Nick

got wind, (and subsequently reined in)

a rave party with orgiastic

sex, drugs and rock and roll

that a band-aided elf(ves)

laced with Pepper Minstix 

(anonymously hashtagged Sodom and Gomorrah)

sullied pure as the driven snow repute,

when aliasing Sugarplum Mary (“FAKE NAME”)

detected snorting cocaine

codenamed Alabaster Snowball, while additionally

besmirching her virginity via coital cavorting

amidst a Bushy Evergreen

shaking as if frenzied

with feverish boogie woogie flu

which seductive, prurient,

and master baiter friend zeed

(spunky Gangnam style) Shinny Upatree

which could slay Wunorse Openslae reputation

as substance abusers,

and sex offenders if not worse.

The Little Bead

We lie in our class,
Not really intrigued or puzzled,
By the mundane subjects that keep us muddled.
Some may admire the beauty that surrounds us;
Of the trees swaying in the winds,
Of the cherry blossoms that drop,
In the never-failing cold wind.
The light which comes through our open doors,
The light, not brighter than the people we have in store.

We all are specimens alike,
But, behind our mask of mischief lies,
A little drop or maybe a bead,
Filled with sincerity and virtue so sweet.
The little drop that burns and shines,
In all our hearts it lies.

We are not mindless wanderers,
We are not without destination;
Some folks can’t understand,
The intensity of our situation.

We have a goal,
An aim to be great,
But some of us haven’t uncovered our little drop,
The drop that can seal our fate.

The teachers say we’re a nuisance,
How we trouble their conscience;
But how they will miss us,
Miss our shenanigans;
How we will miss each other when we leave,
To the calling of our little bead.

Shenanigans

SHENANIGANS 

Shenanigans and hullabaloos of the Westerners worsens our sins in this societal ruins, 
washing-in it's wastes and wildness with unrest
just like Amazon delivering parcels with its crest. 
The thief with the aim to survive hunger got an arrest
but corrupt wealthy well paid politicians goes for free,
Others hoard or pilfer treasure troves from every tree.
Neither envy unknown affluence of any type
nor thrive in the glory of other people's hype.
Don't live in the prison of other people's opinion. 
Or meddle in their false esteemed & established union. 
In all fairness, let the world handle it's business;
And despite life's shenanigans, show finesse. 
You're one man army just as the people to the world.
The unpredictability of life got the world enamored. 
Let the world face and stifle it's own thorn, 
Don't be the bunch, but in your own sphere be the one. 


Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP} 
Copyright © December2022.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member -A SPUD TALE

I would like to share a tale with you
About an ongoing Spud  feud 
Between two potato families 
And the shenanigans and antics pursued

We have the Tater Family
An extremely large family indeed
Round , robust, varied , versatile, 
Availability always guaranteed

The Sweeties are the other family
Long, oval, tapered , also versatile 
Orange and a little softer on the inside
Availability,  sometimes quite the trial
 
Now, the Sweeties think the Taters common
Often heard yelling ‘You are rotund and quite frankly cheap and crass ’
Many of you are a shade of ugly unripe green
AND~
You are always getting smashed!

Well… ‘HALLO’ , responded the Taters
Have you looked in the mirror of late?
You are certainly no oil painting 
AND~
Whats that weird hairy bit at the end of you mate?

The Sweeties retaliate with fervour
Well, at least, we are healthy, special and sweet
Popular, sought after and make a delicious pie
Known as POET-ATO …..a favourite with artistes!

‘Yeah right’ ….reply the Taters 
Did you know we ARE known as the people’s spud?
Always available and at hand to help
AND~
To be quite frank Sweeties
When the male spuds wear their jackets….they are considered quite the Stud!’

Now,  this feud may always continue 
Their  differences may always be their fuel
HOWEVER~
There is one thing they will always agree on

SPUDS RULE!!
© Deb M   Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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