Life a genesis, oh
A path toward vacancy
Trim down a modulation of lube apathy
Dirt arm's craving toward end! neither
The thorn was there , oh
Mesmerized by puppies tearing neck for the muddy popcorns
I myself giggle with lacrimal fallacy
Bone to bone, crate to crate
Waving with thermal fate
Rinsing heavily with northern gray, oh...
Imagine a bus that runs Eight Days a Week
with seats made of slimy leek
sliming further for every sitter
and sputtering out oil with every creak.
Imagine not getting to get the bus
'less you come on frying leeks, making a fuss
’bout passengers not letting you get oil from under their seats,
provoking your pan to concuss!
Imagine all the people concussed by pans
on the Eight Days a Week bus – The Beatles fans.
Hold me, love me Eight Days a Week
while we make bus seat slimy leek flans.
Fancy riding on a sturdy open topped crust
with leek-based lube setting our lust?
Why, to society’s travel regulations
should we have to adjust?
Bouncing on a slime seat with nude bum cheeks is fun.
Let’s also slime our face cheeks to shield from the sun
on my mind Eight Days a Week, My Leek.
Massage me with oil – this bus has a ton!
I believe life too runs on wheels
People gallop and gear it up with deals
Let me frame a lofty goal
To win, I must keep the pedals roll
It could either be a pleasure or pain
I must handle it with a unique vein
Forget not applying brakes
Or else, away the passion takes
No wrong if we try to soothe and coax
Be supportive like a wheel’s spokes
Bear not bloody restrictions
Bearings reduce frictions
To lube the cognitive chain
Add fun for making a smooth lane
Bicycle reflects the cycle of a life
Seat it and set it with no strife
Place : 3 rd
No one knows from whence they came
No one knows their names
But there are microscopic “men”
Computing thots inside my brain
Androgenous android nanotechnology
Sent nanoprobes into my ear lobes
They’re nameless, shameless, from the unknown
Making my skull their new home
They’re like lice eating my mind
Foretelling my doom in good time
Storing my memories in Morse code
Transforming them into strange songs
Translating them into what’s right and wrong
After a many a long years
One returns to my ear
Slips thru the Eustachian tube
Used earwax like it was lube
Stopped at the edge like it was a door
His feet on my skin like it was the floor
For the first time saw the real world
And faintly whispered...
“What the...?”
I feel like I'm drowning in the stormy sea,
Tiamat help me write on the Void, please ,
My mind empty ;coming up with thoughts I freeze,
I feel I am drowing;what is the key ?
I drank some Jameson whisky to lube my brain ,
Today I feel like an empty beer barrel,
The words I need I find hard to channel,
It did not help the existential pain.
Tiamat said Listen and stop ing,
If my agents got thru you know what to do?
"I am All ,hear my tales ,see my image ".
Remembered the tales flesh is awakening,
Void is potential and naught at once too,
It is in your bones so make the linkage.
A quick study
fast learner
knowledge gainer
page-turner
info. retainer
midnight lube burner
all at sea
in a world of turmoil
choosing my words carefully
pouring oil on turbulent waters
a salve to soothe the sorry soul
picking only those
which carry weight
reset the balance
and the sentiment I wish to state
losing myself in the still point
of my poetry
it's there where I find
sweet sanctuary
stubbed toe / during a broken heart—
you said pain is pain, offered to kiss both.
we nursed the plot of a favorite episode,
argued over what constituted foreshadowing.
talking to you about the view was mostly talking to myself;
you liked cliffs, I liked what they overlooked.
on vacation with the lube,
you forgot to pack anything else.
we ate wasabi from the tube like astronauts.
being vegan, you protested animal rights
while wearing leather—not ironically.
I said nothing, ate a pork bun in your honor.
alive with wanting, horny as new hormones,
we ordered room service, slept instead,
called that a success.
our fifties came early—
you there before me, always a decade ahead
in age, on trends, with grief.
neither of us knowing we’d need
a language for this back then.
My auntie, who was on vacation
Was lusting for fast fornication
She met a well-hung guy
But her foo-foo’s too dry
She blurted, “It needs lubrication!”
The fella, whose first name was Dick
Said, “Stay put. I’ll be back real quick
I’ll purchase sticky Jell-O
‘Twill turn your foof bright yellow
But ensures my entry is slick!"
The Jell-O lube worked really well
Dick satisfied my Auntie Mel
Next time she needs some lube
She’ll melt a Jell-O cube
Aunt’s shagged out. I think you can tell!
Quyeer times emit blazing signs..And some ex-boy friends?
Is this karma divine? mi5 say its Putin..' a prime topic for
Them...And its taken a fortnight with henceforth..No why
Where or whens..From them.' Yet it seems rather sloppy to
Be (a Russian affair?) And arson too primitive.' I think thats
Quite fair.? Just an ass-umption.' To try to open the door.'
Of secrecy thats been holding karmas secret deposits oh
Dear..I guessed such was er?? Coming..Hmm?? I wrote a
Poem before.!! Now its been shat-tered all over the world
And whats more.' Theres an outcome to happen.' Once the
Lube is applied.' As it was maybe in the beginning.?? Or
Will this turn upon lies? Maybe death? Well of the
Truth.' Will be the out-come? Lets await the putrid offerings
Of ( some media bums.?)
Birthday greetings! Get out of bed.
Go to the river and dunk your head.
Eat crawdad dung, until you are really fed.
Then crank-call your senile Uncle Johnny Fred.
Go skating down the hill on an inner tube.
Call everyone names like bimbo, or boob.
Eat your lunch on top of plate balanced by an ice cube.
Then have your car serviced, it needs a lube.
Have supper at the hutch of the white rabbit if you can.
He has arranged a surprise in the form of a Mariachi band.
Run over to your mothers and fix her a Salisbury steak.
I know that she has for you a lovely birthday cake.
And why not?
The Lucky country
Bodyline
Human skittles
Murder Incorporated
Swing lube
I sit with friends and
We put
Together our greatest XI
To face Mars
My father shouts, "That's out!"
And the umpire gives it
My son reads The Beano and is
Not interested
In the sixes
The announcer shouts, "Make some noise Edgbaston!"
He is shoved over and the Harlequin Waitrose capped swanky pants
In a spiffing gaggle announces, "Bowling from the City End, some bloke."
A friend told me he strangled
A goat
"That makes you feel really alive."
This "plague" isn't going away anytime soon.
We're openly told this is our new normal.
To bend over and over without any lube.
There's much to be gained by prolonging the pain.
From the made-in-China masks you're wearing.
From the made-in-China parts that go into COVID test kits.
The reds dream of pulling hearts from freedom's chest.
Barbed things are being thrust into our bloodstreams.
One vaccine, concocted from cells of two aborted babies from the seventies...
A boy and a girl, given letters and numbers instead of names.
Just like Jews that were stuffed into Auschwitz cattle trains.
This plague isn't going away anytime soon.
For it's a bonanza for big pharma and conglomerates.
At the deadly expense of the working-class stiff.
While they tell us not to gather in numbers.
The privileged party in Martha's Vineyard.
They released hordes of convicts onto the streets.
To protect THEM from a bug and not us.
They inoculated nursing homes with covid patience
While a mercy ship sat empty in Big Apple Harbor.
Fully equipped with a thousand empty beds...
This Plague isn't going away anytime soon.
Said to my girlfriend
My Husband - well he’s 90.
What do you think he can do? -
Even his tongue cant stretch out to work.
So I got a young boy name geyser.
I never knew plastic could be so proficient.
I don’t know if its excitement
or the darn thing has its own lube.
He keep going and going
like the energizer bunny
Wow what a beauty – just like the real thing
It make me hum like sweet sixteen -
again and again and again.
and at my age unless you have
something strong and forceful to put in
you just can’t feel it sister!
So get one and get a big one - girl does mine have youth.
©Al Juman
think of criminals eating crackers with chapped lips,
and i bust in, as slightly used balm
screaming " my duty is to lube!"
...all these criminals squeezing my tube.
lube yourself up car
young one searches frantically
cannot find gas tank
oil tell him says my man
it is behind license plate
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