Whine Producer
Miracle Man
7/23/2024
Constantly ticking is our grandfather clock,
and with each night’s chime it puts me shock.
My ears are weary of this uninterrupted talker,
it’s hard to escape this loud mouthed stalker.
Often, with disgust, I watch the pendulum swing,
other than it’s beauty I find nothing that’s soothing.
Always near day’s end someone continues to rewind,
and at each suggestion seems I’ve always whined.
I suppose I could find something entertaining to do,
because hearing it’s chime always makes me spew.
The options I see at hand are to continue to blister,
Or load this sucker up, and deliver it to my sister.
He who disregards truth and justice
Will sooner or later go the whole hog;
His bestial appetites and habits,
His love of cruelty and power eventually will take over
Perhaps without him ever realizing the danger.
He is not only beyond the control of others
But beyond his own control.
He does no good ( like rainless clouds or fruitless trees,
Heaping abuse on anything he doesn't understand;
Spoiling the fellowship meals with his irreverent behavior.
He lives at the mercy of his brutish instincts,
Looking after Himself instead of caring for his brother.
Like storm, he leaves behind him shame and disgrace;
like the dirty foam left along the beach by the wild waves.
He's like stars that have wandered into outer space and give no light,
He grumbles about everything and have a huge chip on his shoulder.
He is one in reign,
A loud-mouthed show-off
Who flatters others for his own advantage
And give free reign to his evil desires.
Just for the new year’s
I’ll just grab my beers
Chug, chug, chug
From the hefty quirky jug
The New Year’s Resolution
I’ll run to the store
Half past four
The New Year’s Revolution
Just for the new year’s
My friends will say cheers
To a random loud mouthed foul tempered angry man
While juggling a frying pan
The New Year’s Resolution
Will I cheat on my true love?
Definitely true bout the question above.
Therefore, maybe I’ll just get rid of her pollution.
Never on Face Book post
Your visit to a coast,
Let alone a transfer
By riskier miles far,
Save you are spiritual
And your prayers perpetual.
The relocated-to-a-coast
To not propose any toast
Nor a chef order to chickens roast…
Not for loud – mouthed boast
One’s transfer to a coast,
As waters are met the most
From pillar zigzagging to post;
The craziest obeying some Ghost,
Whose drowning record is its marine boast…
A decidedly contentious host.
The transferred to a coast is not The Lucky
There too wait waters The Murky!
The tv is on down the hall voices compete
for attention from delicate hammock earlobes.
I think it is the national geographic channel.
They announce the modern evolution of the
species one by one.
They say things like most Canadian geese these
days are loud mouthed episcopalians.
Not like the long legged crane Lutherans who dont
Seem bothered by solitude.
Cameras shutter speed to record the flight..
Singular wake of where a leg once stood..
Speaking in hushed tones as he rises.
"you know my throat grew so dry in
those grasses".
Yet still looking out my window reminds me that the
Raven is an elegant priest..
Squawking corsley over long concrete robes..
chain smoking on a light post and eating
ramen noodles that have spilled from
my garbage can.
Loud-Mouthed and Ludicrous
On my behalf this poem have been writing
Hoping it will be something so exciting
That by the time it is finally read
You will have forgotten what I just said.
Now can no longer remember anything
And often it seemed as if I was being
Beyond belief and totally astounding
And heart very hard has been pounding.
Overjoyed yourself were about to find
And also preferred having peace of mind
Miraculous birthday poem might write like this
While people think I am loud and ludicrous.
Even ended poem with your name.
How about that? Jim Horn
"Hear me." that’s how it always starts. Some loud mouthed tyrant stepping on the backs of his followers, to throne the salted vigor of his speech.
"Hear me!"
"Follow me into this place, unknown maybe, but full of gifts to those willing to take it from the mouth of destiny, I assure you. The FATE that you…Yes YOU have earned with your blood, your sweat, your SACRIFICE! For you have left the bed of your woman, to fight for your country, for your KING! Do you not deserve the respite of hunger, of shelter? Have WE not earned that?”
And the crowd’s hungry stomachs tremble beneath the throe of desperate and determined screams both invoked and festered by the name they call KING; who seeks only to grip a longer whip, to reach further than the crown before him.
"Hear me!" "So I may show you the way, to freedom!”
The lash of a tongue, is sometimes much stronger than that of a whip..
for it is much more deceiving.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Limerick croisés : Once a loud-mouthed Sergeant-Major
Once a loud-mouthed Sergeant-Major
Joined Cold Stream Guards to troop colour
He kept wondering why
He heard not himself cry
Until he took bearskin helmet off ear!
So he left the Lilywhites Guards
To lounge around the ‘Frisco bards
Beats made him bleat poems
Sans use of micro-phones:
What he heard made him rejoin Guards!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Nightmare-strippers,
Marijuana-dealers,
Harlots,
Loud cacklers in the hands of Karma---
My enemies.
Car detailers,
Stewardess girls,
Bridesmaids,
Dice-shooters,
Chefs,
Waiters,
Ballerinas,
Stars of **** flicks
Owners of liquor stores,
Article writers,
Athletes in tinsel town
And violinists in circuses---
Nightmare-strippers all,---
My enemies.
Marijuana dealers all,---
My enemies.
Harlots---
God! What harlots!
Strippers---
God! What strippers!
Strippers and harlots
Harlots and cacklers.
Cacklers?
Yes, cacklers… cacklers… cacklers---
Loud-mouthed cacklers in the hands
Of Karma