Who admits he was born in a suburb
his life is a luster-buster
Even if he’s on the coast, of zero can he boast
his personality ~ milquetoast
military or milquetoast?
Milk toast please
aggressive or passive?
neither, I whisper to the breeze.
who is asking and why do they want to know?
I race away quickly, afraid of this natural flow.
Milquetoast is not spelled with a Kay
Pronounced milk toast, by the way
Vacuum has two u’s, which is crazy too
Spelling should not be done by me or you
Subpoena is one of those words I cannot figure out
Fuchsia too is a confusion, round and about
Enuff should be spelled like this I think.
Spelling enuff the other way is a waste of ink.
Zapped our eyes
ears centers
not on a beam
unless
on a ledge
teeter-totter
in space
our eyes want more
or less
either way
satisfies
the milquetoast
our ears crave hypersonic
or a hum
matters not
his horns levitate
left and right
halos
hooked over them
self-righteousness he craves
when Christianity
behaves
dead are men’s spirits
around them
a buzZ
There is no denying the power of love.
It is a splendid teacher
Quite adept at instructing us
In ways that completely alter our character,
And telling us how to be what we never were,
Or never even imagined we could ever be.
In certain individuals
Its transformations are frequently nothing short of miraculous.
It breaks down all our natural barriers,
And in the blink of an eye
Can turn a niggardly pinchpenny into a philanthropist,
An obsequious milquetoast into a courageous and gallant knight,
And make a paragon of "politesse" out of an absolute boor.
The inveterate sluggard becomes a captain of industry,
And the most innocent of dullards
Becomes a wellspring of sagacity and worldliness.
What a marvelous whetstone for sharpening wits
And honing the senses is love.
Even its most hardened critics…
Those victims and casualties who proved to be intractable and unteachable…
Find it difficult, if not impossible,
To deny the power of love's ability to inspire
The most truly amazing things in a human heart.
~ To the tune of:
'Where Have All the Flowers Gone?' ~
Where have all the comics gone
Long time passing
Milton Berle and Alan King
Long time did their thing
Where have all their insults gone
Long time passing
Don Rickles and Groucho Marx
Echo in empty parks
Where has all the slapstick gone
Long time passing
Larry, Moe, and Curly Joe
Gave way to milquetoast shows
Where have all the tap dancers gone
Sammy Davis, Donald O’Connor
Bumpers and grinders of today
Do the greats a dishonor
Where have all the comics gone
Georgie Jessel and George Burns
Gone the way of Romantic poets’ poems
~ Like Keats’ ‘Ode to a Grecian Urn’
Delay by Him has taken its toll,
Waves of doubt rollover the soul,
Despair extinguished the Spirit,
Wax-filled ears would not hear it.
"Listen, you have left My way!
Wait for My providence and pray.
Change of direction is needed."
But His correction went unheeded.
The restless spirit wrests control,
God's will is no longer the goal,
The anxious heart is not ideal,
So, failing eyes, meet banana peel.
Seeking refuge in my enemy's camp,
I was turned into a foolish scamp,
Philistine mouths were agape.
So, I feigned madness to escape.
That was dumb, I'm ashamed to say,
Letting fear and doubt cloud my way.
The Lord's shelter never fails,
His faithful acts tell the tales.
Keep seeking the Lord in a trial,
Relying on Him is worthwhile.
Instead of becoming milquetoast-
In Him, a reason to boast.
"Come children and listen to Me.
Fear of the Lord will set you free!
Wait for Me to settle the score,
David teaches in Psalm thirty-four."
Precocious child
curious, wild
Whence come adults
milquetoast mild
When my father was in a drunken stupor,
He could be a disgusting, nasty pooper
His paranoia would send him into a rage
Everyone was against him took advantage,
So he thought, while inflating his self-worth
A vain man of massive ego and matching girth
He lashed out at those who loved him most,
Of his superior qualities he would often boast.
When he was sober, he could be Mr. Milquetoast
Some said he was one of the finest men on earth
It is true, he could exhibit considerable mirth
We wondered how he could turn the page
He was, indeed, a smart man, …even a sage.
Among friends he was considered a trooper,
But he could be a disgustingly nasty pooper
When my father was in a drunken stupor.
Written March 8, 2022
[Verso-Rhyme]
#68 on List of 100 Best Poems
Poetry Soup
April 1, 2022
Good n plenti riches abound
unreachable to gentle
hermit while aboveground,
human ship of state
fore'er stranded aground
only thru death do him part will
his grievous soul get spirited airbound
chokehold sensation ceased when freedom
against debtor's prison unshackled
humongous human corporeal being all around
to little monetary largesse
arrived too late to astound
pipe dream eternally left within background
jackass kippered, milquetoast pockmarked,
Goliath scarred, voodoo battleground
visible near completely bloody lovely bones
partly denuded flesh
buried shallow belowground
scouting, scenting, scrabbling
one after another bloodhound
clamors leaps and doth bound
nosing, trumpeting, yelping...
despite snout muzzled reinforced brassbound,
no deterrent grisly bared, limp, lifeless body
sacrificed at skull and bones campground,
despite decay tell tale
hunch unearthed mound
picked over remains evince sound
They descend into the hearts of men
like a troop
Don’t let ‘em in,
don’t let ‘em in
Or they will devour everything good within
Thousand voices of evil
hammering away at your resistance
Until they shatter your will not to yield
Leaping maniacally over the breached spirit wall,
banshee screaming coming down the hall
of your medulla oblongata
Legion
taking up residence
Your soul now being sold on the open market
Bought yourself some new real estate
down by the fire and brimstone lake
El Diablo
is the new head honcho
at your neural command center
He says: heaven can wait,
being holy is so out-of-date
Guest of honor held hostage is your wretched fate
Legion
Legion of devils
Now you’re a spineless jellyfish host,
who put up a cream puff battle ...
You’re such a weak milquetoast
Got an open vacancy sign neon flashing,
letting every wayfaring foul spirit know —
in your condemned soul inn,
you welcome the overflow
The impression i'm getting, is we are forgetting
That we are a people with voices made for vetting
An appearance of truth is flashed to our brains
The suggestion to youth is just plain insane
Being force fed lies, with a smile and a wink
Can I be the only one who thinks something stinks?
Don't be decieved by the depth of the pool
We can still drown in an inch of some drool
They tell us what's cool, what to buy, feed us lies
We are not milquetoast, and I won't be host
Stand for a plan and stop playing ghost.
Phony preacher man,
your doctrines are soft ...
of no eternal value
You peddle the pagan fluff,
sniffing the prosperity snuff,
gambling souls away with your holy bluff
False preacher man,
how eloquent you boast
But your doctrines are milquetoast
The doctrines of God are pure:
diamond hard like a rock
Holy Rock of our salvation,
a peculiar people is His holy nation
We demand hearing the truth,
we will not allow you to feed us lies
Dressing it up in disguise,
making abominable things appear so nice
Phony preacher man,
your doctrines are milquetoast soft ...
of no redemptive value
You never preach against the paradigms of sin,
but how could you?
You pushed your cow chips to the center,
and told the blackjack dealing demon you're all in
Selling out souls gives you the cheated win
Filthy lucre now stuffs your fat pockets,
as you greedily from the pulpit walk away
Apparently you never learnt,
that all toast gets burnt
when God rebukes thee on Judgment day
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