Mags Poems

Hoss hockey

Mint Julip and Pimento Cheese
Smith Island Cake and Beef Pit BBQ
Hot Pastrami on Rye and Cheesecake
She offered him the meal
and smiled at him
without saying much more.
he frowned and ate.
asking for only a napkin.
The cold of winter chilled him
to the bone. He neither wanted more
or less he just stood
with his back to the window
and asked
he   simply wrote x= arrow up/ arrow down
and started looking to hauler mags to
gain support of his
endeavors.

      Ole Fiddle Song
-----------------------------
"The coal of winner
the hoss man say.
disk is hymn say'in
disk.
ya'll know he say disk!
write chair he
say.
win doughs
hymn bacon the soda.,
hymn say!
Can't tucky Fiddle
Ball it More
Bells Mounted 
York Strips.
Did@tic
Doer
song foo Ya'll!"

Bard Pablo Birthday's Song

What, in your own mind,  you do think you lack,
Within thy sensational loneliness--
Truly energize luck and got your back, 
To promote thy risk in times, coziness. 

Then each and every of your lovely fear, 
Creates the globe with an enormous home. 
Surely, of a great deal, becomes so dear
A lorry pen drives where shining hearts roam... 

May blank pages cease not-- thy gunny bag;
Supplying the pride of your heart with clues, 
Pen punches so hard to raise the world's flag. 
To place pleasing mags, setting minds amuse. 

Your day of the year is of heritage;
Deifying your grace and works, great homage.

A Job

A Job
I work designing guns
Never out of a job
Quite creative work
Firing pins to mags
Via handles and barrels
Art via a lathe
My mind and hands
Always at work
Like the hitmen


from LIZARD SNAIL 124K Nick Armbrister and other writers OUT LATE 2021/EARLY 22

Building a Fire

Had a smirk of sorrowful clarity 
Someone dancing on my grave.
And a artist 
The night was gathering materials.
 Knowing  ambition for pleasure
Would never fill the pit.
The night called for a burn
All the grasped boxes of blankets
Nostalgic wood, Rhapsodies of a ratt-packen
Journals, binders, scraps of thoughts
Nick-knack volumes of prophets
Overdosing on written salvation
Hoping for a instance coffee relief
A always, never the fallow-through
More is pilled, the mix of kindling
Dirty-bits, and old yearnings 
A stone from a beach, of first love
Scrapbooks of holding mortality
**** mags, and bed follies pics
A secrete place a catholic boy goes
My heap inter-mixed with nature
All of it dead, until  the match
Erupts a fire enjoying feeding
Impermanence is really scarred 
So is observing the flame
Hypnotic destruction is fire at night 
Eyes dance to flares refection
Chaotic colors of visible heat
A calm abiding trance
Warm glowed my garments
In ambers consuming to ash

Pine-Ing To Gossip

Hush, can you hear? 
So soft and yet so clear,
are the whispers of the forest.
You may think it is the breeze, 
but listen closely and you'll see, 
the wind's as absent as can be. 
Indeed it is the whispers, 
the sly whispers of the trees.

I hear them when I'm on my own,
entranced beside the moonlit lake.
They wonder why I'm sad, so sad, 
and try to cheer my solemn soul, 
with jokes and laughs and Billy Joel.
Such company can be a treat, 
so when my heart does allow, 
I whisper back, the trees and I. 

I sometimes act as their spy, 
in places where the trees are few. 
I whisper to the trees alone, 
all dank and limp beside the road. 
The one thing I never knew, 
was how they loved to gossip so. 
For as a present of our friendship, 
I bought the latest mags and comics.

Now lie, I do, beside the pines, 
reciting the celebrity times.

Date: 06.11.2020
Contest: Whisper to Me Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina Riddle

Just a Brief Diversion

Picked up a "girly" magazine 
Some put such mags down
If you overdo **** it is no good
But looking at beautiful naked woman
must be understood
To be a relevant past time 
and yes in this poem 
I do rhyme 
Most modern poets do not 
As to all your verse
Thanks a lot! 
To you out there in the dark
Your poetry resembles a lark!
Singing in the wind
and yes I have sinned
But I do love poems
Hurry up and write your own
Thrill your readers - to the bone!

Farting In Space

A question on everyone's lips, where do farts go in space
Astronauts are propelled into the distance like a rocket without a trace
Others wearing special diapers
Called MAGs* outer space wipers
Though they don't eliminate the odor they do stop the chaos

*Maximum Absorbency Garments

If Ever I Had a Country : Xv and Xvi

IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY : XV & XVI

                               XV

IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Treasury Secretary
I'd outlaw all big-time " companies " who beg for money
Especially those who beg in the name of the Almighty
I'd write virulent circulars on how to cajole Him through litany
To wheedle trillions of dollars euros yuans rupees throughout Eternity
That is, if ever I were the Treasury Secretary
And even if I never ever had no country

                            XVI

IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Minister of Finance 
I'd make every charitable organization head dance
On a tight rope stretched from here to comeuppance
For wasting nearly all what we give them on bribes penthouse mags and stamps
And take them on a tour of the streets and hovels littered with hungry children and tramps
That is, if ever I were the Minister of Finance
And even if I never ever had no country

© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 5, 2018

Platinum Icons

Platinum Icons

Their tale to tell is much the same
with looks that helped their claim to fame
Blonde and curvy, they got the jobs
In films and shows they flaunted their gobs

Deep, husky voices from too many fags
Scantily clothed in all the top mags
Make-up and peroxide over abundant
They could never ever be redundant

Marriage was multiple, two a penny
Own homes in Cannes, not Abergavenny
No doubt they had their special talents
In ads and the like for painted talons

B B, M M, and Zsa Zsa Gabor
Iconic beauties that most men adore
And models for women to emulate
enhancing their chance of getting a date

B B now old, the others since gone
Etched lines in face and gray, not blonde
Her love of animals has earned her repute
Her racist views we might well dispute

These women famed for enviable looks
Are immortalized in stacks of books
Although their films are somewhat dated
They’re still viewed and still well rated.

Gay Equality

Homophobia will
be over, when "coming out"
is not reported.

[Why do Entertainment mags always have stories when a person, especially an actor or athlete, comes out? Because we are still a long way from it not being gist for the news cycle, I suppose.]

Had Better Be Worth It

let's take a look at the beginning

wen the matters in your heart mattered to u alone

wen like BoB b4 Airplanes u wer unknown

wen the pp u had on speed dial wldn pick up e fone

n u hid the tears that only u knew wer dripping

fast forward to the here n now

to the thunderous applause u hear wen u take a bow

to the microphones that flood u to hear u speak

to how ur opinions r published week after week

who wlda thot that dis was all id take

a lil fame a lil fortune wit only jus ur soul at stake

sometimes wen the champagne wears n its quiet out

those lil flashbulbs tha go on n off its cald doubt

u knw that maybe dis lyf aint so cool

its got u dancn to their whims like okomfo anokye for the golden stool

n honestly hon who u tryna fool

so uv got mags writng down ur salad makn tips

n women lust afta ur collagen fild lips

u knw ur worth more han wat uv become

but u kip lyn to urself tha wats ben dun is dun

but we both know hon..it's only just begun...

Had Better Be Worth It

let's take a look at the beginning

wen the matters in your heart mattered to u alone

wen like BoB b4 Airplanes u wer unknown

wen the pp u had on speed dial wldn pick up e fone

n u hid the tears that only u knew wer dripping

fast forward to the here n now

to the thunderous applause u hear wen u take a bow

to the microphones that flood u to hear u speak

to how ur opinions r published week after week

who wlda thot that dis was all id take

a lil fame a lil fortune wit only jus ur soul at stake

sometimes wen the champagne wears n its quiet out

those lil flashbulbs tha go on n off its cald doubt

u knw that maybe dis lyf aint so cool

its got u dancn to their whims like okomfo anokye for the golden stool

n honestly hon who u tryna fool

so uv got mags writng down ur salad makn tips

n women lust afta ur collagen fild lips

u knw ur worth more han wat uv become

but u kip lyn to urself tha wats ben dun is dun

but we both know hon..it's only just begun...

Barry Bonds

Barry Bonds Witchhunt cons

Sold out tickets make owners fond 

Money bags Pennant flags

Baseball's back

On Spots Illustrated mags 

Homerun chase

Time to contemplate

Adoring fans now say Your a National Disgrace

Commissioner too

Crying the Public Boo-Hoo 

Used the breaking of Aaron's record 

To advertise the brew

No more dough Let's dull the glow

On this sordid Major League Baseball 

Hypocrites Sideshow

Life Station

Pecking quick, a parting kiss
Pumping legs, a train to miss
Lovers waving, strangers pass
Tears and hugs a whistle blast 
Scanning papers on news stands
Pats on backs while shaking hands
Averted eyes and hurried walk
Can’t stop, won’t wait, no time to talk
Pushchairs, wheelchairs, screaming kids
Cardboard coffee cups with lids
Departure times on TV screens
Red light, amber, go is green
Somewhere, nowhere, never speak
Laughing, crying, faces bleak
Turned up collars, downcast heads
Business suits and tardy threads
Briefcase, suitcase, traveling bag
Folded papers ,glossy Mags
Hustle, bustle, teeming by
Oblivious to earth and sky
Don’t stop don’t look and don’t ask why
Ticket punched and journey paid
Click the stopwatch
Now you’re dead

Bourgeois - Please

Who are these bourgeois bees
What makes them better than you and me

Why are their noses in the air
With fake nails and purchased hair

So they wear designer bags
Clothes from fashion mags
Does real beauty come in a price tag

They have attitude for days
Ugly and malicious ways
Expects a man to pay their way
And then wonder why they don’t stay

~ Bourgeois bees ~ Please ~

Stop looking down on the rest
Because you think you have what’s best

Stop driving a Benz with no ends
Always relying on no good men

Stop judging a book by its cover
Turn the page and see what you discover

Stop pretending to live the good life
When you know you’re living trife

Stop being so conceited and vain
It only attracts the fake and lame

~ Bourgeois bees ~ be real ~ Please ~

Lay

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