A class on Zoom, as you’d assume,
Attracts its share of crazies,
But in your room, no need to fume;
Just rearrange your daisies
Or fill a grid your camera hid,
Completing Sunday’s puzzle,
If the teacher did not place a lid
On some who need a muzzle.
With mic sound shut, if every nut
Must jabber with a story,
You tune out, but, your tsk and tut
Won’t dampen someone’s glory.
The time will pass and soon your class
Will come to its conclusion
And then, en masse, you leave; the brass
Believing the illusion.
Rich Hands, Empty Pockets
That's the anthem echoing through a system
Built on grind.
Gold towers rising high, scraping skies that never contort down.
To see the ones breathing exhausted beneath.
Rich hands, Empty pockets- silver glimmer like it's got a heartbeat,
While hope thins out like the last light of vespers.
The needy wait in the muzzle of shadows,
Holding stories the world keeps tripping over,
Holding one's breath for someone- anyone to finally see their plight.
Rich hands, Empty pockets- a divide etched deep by recourses we pretend not to notice.
Material gain becomes the measure of worth,
And Humanity slips soft, almost silent, through
Cracks we walk past every day,
Like they ain't credence in whole lives and still-
Rich hands, Empty pockets keep ringing, keeps rising, keep asking
How long a system can shine while its people become colorless.
Be in the know without question.
Don't be wrongly put in a position.
It will only lead to insufficiency,
And will cause less proficiency.
Be the missing piece in the puzzle
Function properly without a muzzle.
Learn how to be the best you.
No one can be you better than you.
A wee bit of humor based on this Mark Parisi cartoon.
Chasing me was a cop flashing red and blue lights
I refused the breathalyzer, so he read me my rights
He didn't buy my excuse of having had the zoomies
He said, "In jail, you'll have lots of zoomie roomies."
I told him I'd cooperate and would walk the line
He agreed to that and said I'd just have to pay a fine
for doing seventy-five while driving in a school zone
and if I past the inebriated test he'd throw me a bone
I took his comment to mean he was being sarcastic
but I just smiled at him and said, "Gee. That's fantastic."
I grabbed my beer and took a one last long guzzle.
He called me beligerent and reached for a muzzle.
He said he had no pity for such a disrespectful mutt
I kept laughing and saying, "I'm not being a smart butt."
He called me a low life, punk dog and drove me to jail
Quipped, "Your attitude sucks! You won't get out on bail!"
There was a silence then a group gasp
As I bent over the coffin of my dad
He was murdered in Atlanta Georgia
Shot in the head as he left a store
But such details matter no more
I noticed his curly hair and miss his eyes
His humor his smile his stare
I know his complexion should be fair
But for the mortician’s makeup
He was put back together
Like a puzzle with death’s muzzle
Not thinking of that in the moment
I planted a warm kiss on his cold cheek
It would be the last
A metallic muzzle
breaking through a scrubby bog,
an unlikely find out here
in these rain-riddled marshlands,
I finger-dig the soft ground
to reveal the snout of a snub-nosed
clay clogged revolver.
Who hid or threw this,
this ‘who done it’ out here
is an unsolved mystery
laid to rest
in these acres
of wind swept nowhere.
Bluing worn away,
steel beneath dented and pitted,
firing pin corroded,
an old 38 special,
yet heavy still
with some
unknowable sin.
I took it home -
cleaned it up a bit,
but a week later
buried it
under a weeping willow.
What am I ?
Inside myself are many things,
That reside in Peaceful Bliss;
Upset my Inner balance though,
And Serenity Goodbye Kiss.....
A raging bull, Man eating cat;
And at times I feel like a T rex....
I used to believe that some old witch,
had bestowed my with a hex....
A dog is usually my favorite pet,
but when a cross breed lives inside;
I bury my head from shame instead,
and with my muzzle I run to hide ...
Half Pit, Half Rot ;
thats what I am , Not what I got,
In my fear I think of this ;
And when inside I turn ,
All these Beasts I goodbye Kiss.....
Social Media;
Perfecting Hysteria.
Push button Reply;
Gas lightight the why.
Sticks and stones...
Blood and bones...
Reds and blues...
Roaring 'Boos'...
Silence begets silence;
Speech yields violence,
Passion to fight,
Stomping the blight.
Stuck in motion;
Ignoring all notion.
Frantically turning;
All paths churning.
Ground faulting;
Conscience halting.
Lies swirling;
Truth curling.
Confusion surrounds;
Chaos abounds.
Champion humility;
End the futility.
Plug the ears;
Muzzle the fears.
Pause the trigger;
Quell the vigor.
Close the eyes;
Unveil the guise
Force the thought;
Lest be bought.
The master cracks his whip
across the horse’s trembling flank,
pushing the beast to its limits
until the wildness snaps and the horse reacts,
a flurry of chaos beneath the sting.
When silence falls, the master
believes the animal has learned,
believes the wounds are healed.
He reaches out with clean hands,
petting the horse's weary muzzle,
his fingers gentle, but not soft enough.
The horse, though still, does not forget.
It smells the leather polish on the master's skin, the lingering scent of cruelty woven into the fabric of his flesh.
The horse knows the weight of that smell,
knows it cannot be washed away.
And no matter how tender the touch, the horse remains wary,
the scars deeper than the skin, unforgiven.
The master must face the truth of his actions.
the horse may no longer fight,
but forgiveness does not bloom on the soil of mistreated land.
The horse is not healed,
and the master is not forgiven.
Freedom Lovers
Know you not…that freedom is not free.
In each genaration, work at this assiduously!
Poets cringe at the any poem politicked?
They prefer rainbows as a subject, it makes patriotic, poets, sick!
You don’t have to go on a journey very far away,
To know there’s a country where you cannot have your say
I ponder if you would really give a hoot?
If somebody put a muzzle on your snoot?
Unless you develop a heart of steal.
Liberty might be gone, that your heart, made of mush, cannot feel.
So don’t allow brainless hordes, to scare you to death
Fight for every freedom, till you’re very last poetic breath!
.
al'lup in'er
muzzle
mine trusty
oil'd rag tuh
slip'in
i guess ya can
say
gag'er
thuh Kool thing iz
though
She doesn't
choke
whut
'tiz mine
44Magnum (clean'n day)
if i clean her
Regularly
She won't
"choke"
The muzzle flash of the moon is infused with clouds
where the brightness tapers off on knees that poke through
the slit in her dress; the hem slips off her crossed legs.
Gunpowder in sieves flecks her irises
when she glimpses through my lunar haze
of daydreams that I'll trigger her to smile.
A Guns N' Roses song flogs silence in the back-
ground of my mind as she stands to shake
hands I synchronously half-rotate to kiss.
Her wedding ring tastes like zinc, or some strange kettle
of moondust while she avers that I look as pale
as mists conspiring to discover our trail.
Though we can't see her butler crack the whip to keep
a distant carriage in place,
whinnying clouds beam a grin to her face.
Master, my eyes now have cataracts,
my bones ache and stiffen when I rise,
I cannot chase squirrels like I used to,
nor fetch a tennis ball the way I did
as a pup,
but I love living with my family,
and the gentle pats on my head.
Though the long walks have shortened,
and there's gray fur on my muzzle,
I enjoy napping more during the day.
Master, thank you for taking me to
the vet,
for my health and comfort.
The sun filters through the window warmly,
as I recall seeing the children grow up,
I have the dignity of an elder dog,
blessed by God to be with my kind
human companions,
who adopted me from an animal shelter. ~
The start is marked by a gravy weapon,
Puppy barks answer the trumpets' call.
The muzzle is loose, whispers are free,
The light shines through the metal canvas wall.
Gold insulation, thin as wool,
The warmth is hard to find.
The ember processor cools,
And the processor servant leaves the silicone.
A penthouse phallus on the street of rape
The laptop is for the spouse.
No need for a centimeter polisher,
Just a sail and a television in the house.
Grease the radio, pour the smoke,
Liquor is for the cat.
No solid pills or silver hats,
Just a woman feeding with vinegar, that's all.
Leather boots and belts,
A maiden’s lipstick,
Handcuffs, lace panties bra,
Sword slave,
Wash muzzle,
Plug Tongue,
Eel slime plum,
Snail, tornado, bones, antlers, hands.
Razor clam ***** dug tunnel,
Cucumber purr kitty.
Brine volcano mussel worm plank,
Brassiere blaze twirl shell,
Palm girdle underwear, boot panty boars, hand Dug pussy thermometer!
Scream spank shout!
Kettle strap!!
Steam lung pulse!!!
******** morgue eating crucifix breakfast?
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