Long Washers Poems
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Donning rubber gloves, the wife does washing of clothes and dishes...
(plus cutlery, pots pans, et cetera) in the kitchenette sink.
She started what would immediately become
a first and last generation tradition
(the spouse as washer woman
and scullery maid)
soon after we moved here
eight years ago come July 1st, 2025.
I trumpet her pioneer spirit
to apply elbow grease
(to tackle tough
heavily stained articles of clothing
(after her weary cowboy husband
comes back home on the range
after a hot day rustling cattle)
think underwear of mine -
whereat even bleach
falls short of removing
stubborn noticeable discoloration)
such gusto similarly applied
to glassware or cookware caked
with crusty hardened food.
After washing wearable goods,
she squeezes the excess water
from saturated item(s)
and drapes still moderately wet garment
over drying racks
despite the availability
of clothes washers and dryers
here on the premises
of Highland Manor Apartments.
Though she continues to threaten
with colorful epithets
never to wash my clothes ever again,
her words ring hollow
when some time elapses
and... guess what?
yepper, her hands slide down
into the behavioral sink
and I make sure
to acknowledge gratitude,
yet admit to falling short
of filling in the blank
(with a select response),
when she asks me
what will I give her in return.
Earlier in our
almost thirty year marriage,
we (I more so than the wife)
used to be conditional
and if asked a favor,
the immediate response
from yours truly (me)
just so happened to be
what do I get in return?
That Pavlovian feedback loop
occurred way before
my libido took a kamikaze dive,
into a suicide mission
a strong suspicion arises
(but I dare not utter
a premature ejaculation)
videlicet that being adverse effects
linkedin with one or more
of the nine prescription medications
ingested for mental health issues
such as anxiety, dysthymia,
obsessive compulsive disorder,
and palmar hyperhidrosis
could be the only logical explanation,
and interestingly enough,
I breathe a sigh of relief
cuz all to often sexual fantasies
ofttimes filled every waking
and sleeping hour of mine.
Donning rubber gloves, the wife does washing of clothes and dishes...
(plus cutlery, pots pans, et cetera) in the kitchenette sink.
She started what would immediately become
a first and last generation tradition
(the spouse as washer woman
and scullery maid)
soon after we moved here
eight years ago come July 1st, 2025.
I trumpet her pioneer spirit
to apply elbow grease
(to tackle tough
heavily stained articles of clothing
(after her weary cowboy husband
comes back home on the range
after a hot day rustling cattle)
think underwear of mine -
whereat even bleach
falls short of removing
stubborn noticeable discoloration)
such gusto similarly applied
to glassware or cookware caked
with crusty hardened food.
After washing wearable goods,
she squeezes the excess water
from saturated item(s)
and drapes still moderately wet garment
over drying racks
despite the availability
of clothes washers and dryers
here on the premises
of Highland Manor Apartments.
Though she continues to threaten
with colorful epithets
never to wash my clothes ever again,
her words ring hollow
when some time elapses
and... guess what?
yepper, her hands slide down
into the behavioral sink
and I make sure
to acknowledge gratitude,
yet admit to falling short
of filling in the blank
(with a select response),
when she asks me
what will I give her in return.
Earlier in our
almost thirty year marriage,
we (I more so than the wife)
used to be conditional
and if asked a favor,
the immediate response
from yours truly (me)
just so happened to be
what do I get in return?
That Pavlovian feedback loop
occurred way before
my libido took a kamikaze dive,
into a suicide mission
a strong suspicion arises
(but I dare not utter
a premature ejaculation)
videlicet that being adverse effects
linkedin with one or more
of the nine prescription medications
ingested for mental health issues
such as anxiety, dysthymia,
obsessive compulsive disorder,
and palmar hyperhidrosis
could be the only logical explanation,
and interestingly enough,
I breathe a sigh of relief
cuz all to often sexual fantasies
ofttimes filled every waking
and sleeping hour of mine.
" Serious Message "
While sleeping one night
I had a terrible dream
a vivid vision inside of me
a Serious Message
of all the crime and hate
reflected within our society.
Emergency alarms
car alarms
graffiti and trash
all over the city.
Noise and air pollution
high crime and violence
unsightly with ugliness
and all such a pity.
Prostitution and destitution
drugs everywhere flowing
all over your town
the power of satin
taking over the world
causing many believers to frown.
Stripped and burnt out cars
too many gay bars
violent street crime
and rapper’s rhymes
are societies ugly reflection
now is what’s happening
during our current times.
No one stops to help
the blood shed glistens
from the thugs driving by
funeral pyre is big business
blood washers rinse
just another one to die.
Glass is a breaking
broken bodies aching
society is over whelmed
with burial shrouds
blood covered shanks
bodies full of holes
the thugs standing proud.
Dating of the ladies
raping them after
no love instead just hate
unwanted kids to wonder
surviving on the streets
this has become their fate.
Churches empty to burn
hate is behavior learned
our race is slowly eroding
homeless no place to lie
so many morn and cry
our society quickly corroding.
Crumbling inner city life
there is no real future
protective bars on too many windows
cost for repairs too high
overpopulation is real
destruction everyone knows.
I woke up sweating
my head was throbbing
to our living reality
this Serious Message
so full of crime and hate
is now our living society.
Our society today
death rockets flying
too many people are dying
no more promise land
rather high crime
leading the honest to crying.
We all need to stand together
as a strong society
while we better all defend
before its all gone
no more beautiful earth
no more life but the end...
Penned By MPK
The toy boxes empty, and yesterday's thrills
Are buried together in mountainous hills
I still so remember the virgin land sweet
They deemed it would hide all that treasure discrete
And way back, I think around bout '67
Began hurling trash there,
Now a hill mounts toward heaven
Many a purchase, many a thrill
Couches, and washers and toys in that hill
Purchased with sweat and such toil of a brow
For loves sake, for Holidays purpose allowed
All of that love, so much hard-earned cash
Forgotten, forsaken in hills full of trash
And so in my lifetime I watched the hill grow
Blocking the sunset that we use to know
A million sweet scents from that desert once rose
Now the air smells of refuse, and much trash disposed
As Christmastime comes with her visions serene
The lights in a twinkle on the evergreens
Casting our eyes to the dear Saviors Birth
May we remember God's gift of our earth
Repurpose, creating our gifts for loved ones
A gift of an Earth to our future grandsons
A gift of clean air and pure sparkling waters
To all of creation, and our future daughters
A pure wish for merry, though we've less cash to spend
The truest of love lasts beyond our lives end
Merry Christmas is coming, may we choose to pay
It forward for Earth's sake and much brighter days
In the environment related to server racks, a wide range of 10-32 rack screw nuts of various types is available. But to be able to off-load machines with a heavier weight or very strong tension, 12-24 rack screws are what make it happen. Twelve-24 grade screws also called for their diameter (12) and thread count (24 threads per inch) give a highly secure groove that helps hold the parts together such as sheets, prints, and wood.
The 12-24 rack screws also feature both inside cage screws and sunken panel screws for easy installation. Cage screws have a cage nut pre-installed to the rack that is held in place with the use of an adjustable nut. Thus, the connection is reliable. These screws will have square heads, hence distinguished from virtual similar threaded holes of equipment using square drive act upon cage nuts. As a result, they work without the need for cage nuts.
This determination of what screw will suit every 12-24 rack should be based only on a few factors. Length is crucial. A minimum length of this cable is important for smooth insertion through big torso parts while also allowing the cable to have washers and other management systems at the back. In terms of materials such, are crucial too. The base is made of steel, these metals possess needed strength, and black oxide coating is used to prevent corrosion. Finally, ensure compatibility.
Even heavier appliances, such as power drills and impact drivers, could utilize 12-24 threads or bigger. Check the particular specifications of your tools before investing. The act of going for the right 12 to 24-rack screw is providing the requisite extra level of security and support that any IT equipment weighing up to 550 pounds would require.
When you sort decades of electric cables from that box hidden away
It reminds of disentangling neurons haphazardly fired at random
It’s a beautiful day and you’re in it among sea saw and hammer
Hundreds of screws in the tool box and all you want is a single unbent nail
Somewhere hidden under plucky wall plugs and skewed rusty hinges
If life gives you lemons a power drill defeats convention
Nuts bananas and bolts mislaid in the fridge with washers and powder
Reveal the essence of an organized mind squished in the blender
Bedlam chaos fragmentation or glorious harmony
Synapses jumping like fleas on the mindful grey patched neuronal carpet
Heavily worn by August the Clown because a well led life is a circus
Knowledge pushed into action potentially in a meaningful way
Buttons in the haberdashery basket cased in creativity’s mad insanity
Knotted threads from life-long preservation of patchwork and passion
Enmeshed a few screws yet again and a bubble gum wrapper
And that hammer once more testing reflexes deflected patella and callus
A pendulum for more esoteric days and a Tarot card next to the cross
Saved for a rainy day of prayer and the coronation of dreams
After decade long quest a screw is still a screw whether loosened or nailed
The sander of unfinished living grinds on to an egg timer’s analogue fashion
And who an earth would prefer finding a rivet to crafting a poem
One possible morale of the story is that hardware plies softly myriads of magic
That in the wider scheme of things there are enough contraptions in the case
And once they start giggling and straying Pandora is happy
17th April 2019
twisted tied dyed bug infested, interested;
mon tosh memorized motor vehicle registrations;
tailor chokeberry reaches rhymes gyrations;
leaving whom am I to remain, sustained
captured...
WHY SHOULD I COMPLAIN
no ones listen......
no one listen.....
WHY SHOULD I COMPLAIN
who am I to cry
no one cares if I die
if I try
my oh my
bobbed wired town crier;
placing stuffed animals in washers, then dryers;
and by chance I chose my eyes
tailor chokeberry reaches rhymes gyrations;
leaving whom am I to remain, sustained
captured...
by the pains of worry and strife;
whom am I to cry;
whom am I to ask why?
WHY SHOULD I COMPLAIN
who am I to cry
no one cares if I love or die
so I just let it be
it I try, my oh my
just walk away then leave me in my misery
I complain
but no ones listening;
I complain
and no one is listening;
I pray
seems like no one is there;
whom am I praying for, and where;
I complain;
and then the answer;
Is found in after?
jaw dropping dogs chasing purple frogs;
while cats climbing trees leaping from log to logs;
leaving who am I to remain sustained walking dogs;
while smelling the sweet minty evergreens;
this is why should I complain
tongue tied bright eyed boys on a mission;
little girls at the table playing with their mother's dishes;
I still am one of those well wishers;
braided hair sudden bursts bully stares;
I have something I can give you and it's rare;
My Lord, my Savoir you are here but where am I;
inspired of and by all the negative in my life;
leaving whom am I to remain sustained
reason alone to
Complain?
Scrubbing dishes in a cold kitchen,
on a tabletop rats nibble
through a leather bible cover.
She turns,
a lock of sweat matted hair over one eye,
shakes a red knuckle at a wailing child
sat on the floor by the door.
When Mary, in washed-out despair,
leaves, she leaves a bible, the rats
and a child there.
Mary drying his feet with her hair.
Mary at the temple calling for him.
Mary full of sperm on a street corner.
Mary full of a Grace,
a face that makes her invisible
to rabid dogs and drinking men.
I want to put all of Her together
old and young,
fat Mary on roller skates,
sweet Mary sucking candy,
badly handled and shady Mary,
to speak now for all the wet and dry virgins
slobber some words from a beaten heart,
for all the mother’s, all the worshiping foot washers;
a patchwork Mary, a working Mary.
Let us adore her from an upstairs room
where the cockroaches scuttle near
having no fear. if we don’t,
she might one day castrate us with a steely smile.
Today I walked for Mary,
the sky was a blue egg, robed with light.
I ate a chicken sandwich, lips slick with grease.
In the Chick-fil-A a family was praying over their fast food.
The joint was hopping
kids scooting in and out of seats.
A dozen Mary’s were trying to corral them,
get then to be nice like Christ.
Later I spoke to her at the foot of a crucifix,
told her all my s..t,
felt better, a kind of peace,
knowing she knew all the things I do in the dark
when she comes to me for forgiveness and rest.
I make the sign of the cross,
I make the sign of the cross.
I mean why not?
11/11/16
"Water"
On land and in the water
Ores such as copper
The M.V. P. of the entire roster
Back in the day they use to call me Harry Potter
Show me a lady that can cook like Betty Crocker
I'll appreciate every meal especially the peach Cobbler
Showing her respect and honor
And treating her proper
My mind continuing to wander
What opportunity lies over yonder?
Something I could find out or just continue to ponder
No it's not ever cool to be a bank robber
Or suicide bomber
Of every rhyme I post, I am the author
In school was only a mediocre scholar
Objects assembled with screws and washers
Certains days shorter or longer
Depending on the season the weather getting colder or hotter
Nearby in these waters exists otters
Where people fish in fresh and saltwater
For many things, like trout, crab ,salmon and lobster
Trees grown from seeds, with much more than hard work and a water dropper
No good in remaining to be somber
Got to prosper
By showing and proving what I got to offer
I love playing sports, even soccer
I'm a fan of any well made lager
And I've always had an interest in owning a dog that is a boxer
Fascinations in all species not just nightcrawlers
Never was the biggest talker
Just trying to become wiser and stronger
One day I just may own a chair that is a rocker
By: Dalton Ogletree
Crack open an eye on Saturday morn,
and reach out to give him a cuddle.
To find he's been up since break of dawn,
and crouched in a black oily puddle.
Began with the Polo, a fast one I guess,
On day three the engine goes BOOM!
Self serviced the car to cost himself less,
Now there's wires spewing out from the loom.
A holey exhaust, a broken headlight,
and *** burns adorning each seat.
The bulbs have all blown so he cant drive at night,
or too far coz the car overheats.
To top this all off, he then bought a Golf
GTI so it's fast as a cheetah.
It's German, it's black, he's named it Adolf,
The fact it won't start, common feature.
He pulled out the seats and the engine and tanks,
It's now just a sad empty shell.
I put up and put up but still get no thanks,
So I wish these cars would burn in hell.
I'm tired of washers and bolts on the floor,
of my kitchen and hallway and loo.
Got wires and leads and cards off the doors,
Full suspension in my living room.
Im sick of these Dubs, I'm sick of the sight
of alloys and tyres and....just....bits.
The attention these Dubs get from morning til night,
It's beginning to get on my.....nerves.
Just put down your spanner, your socket and wrench
and grab a cold drink from the fridge
Take off your stained jeans, and jump in the bath
Now, where did I put the phone number for the scrap yard?.......
6th September 2011