When the toilet paper roll
is almost empty,
it may cause panic,
but only temporarily!
You just have to make sure
a full roll is close by,
for if not, there may be no one
to hear your anguished cry!
In my parents' house, the extra bumwad
was in a closet,
but not in the loo;
a circumstance that should have been outlawed,
for what was a child to do
with the poo
that was still stuck on his smelly backside?
Some ingenuity must be applied!
Well, the toilet paper roll is paper too!
Unroll it, smooth it out. That oughta do!
Poetry to be had in most
everything -- the ceiling fan for
instance, it's off now; heat slicing
blades silenced --
a ticking clock becoming more
apparent, poetry in the on-wall
antique as well; thinking that if only
crystal moderns we could have outlawed --
keeping strong the heartbeat refrain of old pendulum
swingers....a wind, a fond nudge
when needed, and animation resumes rhythmic
and unimpeded. I miss you.
I weep in streets where erst the faithful trod,
Churches stand void,whilst taverns brim with glee,
And cry I out for mercy righteous God.
The painted panes grow dim,their light is flawed,
The pulpit soundeth naught but mockery-
I weep in streets where erst the faithful trod.
The sacred choir's song is hushed,outlawed,
Their silence bought with coin of blasphemy,
And cry I out for mercy righteous God.
The alehouse glows; each drunkard is applauded,
Each sin doth shine as virtue seemeth be-
I weep in streets where erst the faithful trod.
The holy house now dealeth wine unawed,
And maketh crimes to save the its dignity,
And cry I out for mercy,righteous God
Yet still I kneel,though mocked by men flawed,
Lord,breath anew Thy breath in sanctity-
I weep in streets where erst the faithful trod,
And cry I out for mercy,righteous God.
We are trapped in this world of form and name,
where as ego, we are distanced from God,
Who we wish to realise as our aim
but cannot do so until heart has thawed
and feral cravings of ego outlawed.
God dwells beyond space-time, yet He appears,
in the form we choose, to allay our fears.
With this truth known, we must choose to transcend,
accepting that ego does not exist
and since there is no one here, to ascend
we must fully erase our to-do list
and in silence, transform as a bliss mist.
We are living light, not this body mind,
so let’s leave conditioned beliefs behind.
A wall patched with lies
keeps the cracks from widening
but mementos fall
books, portraits, medals, and gifts—
gravity claims all relics
curtains shroud the crimes
centuries of stifled screams
glass betrays the hush
even the floorboards confess—
house itself is culpable
clothes, ties, hats, combs, wigs—
the trinkets of faded grace
heaped upon the street
flames burn their false finery—
pretense collapses to ash
palaces demolished
cubes enforce obedience
bankers on the run
food scraps sucked from rubbish binds—
can't stop the way of progress
rebellion outlawed
truth is now rule of edict
ugliness is king
screens implode in blinding flash
we gnaw at our own silence
mother will not come
her arms obliterated
father shamed and named
we crawl with pitiful bleats—
orphans of our own making
It’s Christmas day
Hip hip hooray
With festive cheer
And our family here
The feast begins
Amidst all our grins
Crackers pulled, mottos read
Fancy hats upon each head
With turkey eaten
We’ll not be beaten
Enter the flaming pud
Which looks so good
But whence it came?
This pudding of fame
‘Twas a Roman cook
Where first we look
Making pottage of meat and veg
Placing in readiness on a window ledge
By the fourteenth century frumenty it became
Meat with fruit, wine and spices, it was not the same
This soupy dish was a fasting meal
A preparation for Christmas was the deal
With added eggs, breadcrumbs and fruit it changed once more
Plum pudding lasted until banned under Puritan law
The arrival of King George, the ‘Pudding King’
Got the outlawed pud back in the swing
For his royal feast he did declare
Plum pudding would be the dessert fayre
By Victorian days the meat had gone
Enter the Christmas pud known by everyone
Merry Christmas!
empathizers of what's possible vs hate women club with nothing plausible
asking to raise the price of insulin~ heartless if you ask the sick’s opinion
hungry to bring Trump down to size~ should the other side finally realize?
outlawed conversion theorapy~stopped forcing what's unnatural with morality
In their house
Pluralism is outlawed
six months party suspension
for voting against Child poverty
Humanity verboten
The Kings speech has won
no broad church then
are they like the Tories ?
opposition won't be allowed
Corbynistas' identified
and sorted
But this isn't a game.
This is about people's lives
Written By: D. Collins 6/4/24
Please wake up and open your eyes.
To a man my age abortion doesn't apply.
Confederates outlawed it because they lost the war.
The sons they lost somehow had to be restored.
Young People, are you listening? It's directed at you.
You're right back in it, so it ain't nothing new.
They will chomp at the bit until nothing is left.
Through the "YouTube" phase the whole lot of you slept.
You won't know it until you have lost your vote.
Which is on the agenda of the Supreme Court.
Young People, pay attention, it is in the mix.
Get out and handle your business on November 5th.
Police will work for the government, not the community.
They will stalk the homeless, be merciless mercenaries, entrepreneur, agents provocateur.
Women will be bought and sold. Even some of the married ones.
Fissures will line the roads from sinkholes and earthquakes. Walking, driving anywhere will be a hazard.
There will be businesses and homeless street business.
Info and dirty deeds, sold.
Cannibal diners will be the nouveau, patrons will be the next course.
Cyborgs, cybernetics and children will learn to be street savvy.
The Hunger Games will be real.
Running Man will be real.
Prostitution will be done in the open.
Haters of Christians will be narks, in charge.
Satanic priests will be their dignitaries and lords.
Everything you do will be tracked.
Groups will be punished
Non Government sanctioned Militias will be outlawed.
They will no longer hide that Google is a government agent.
Bibles will be considered hate speech propaganda.
Poetry will be filtered through the Government, like the News is.
STREET MUSIC
Manhattan, in nineteen thirty six
And a growing Italian population
Poor immigrants, no job no food
And so impossible not to intrude
Yet there was strong motivation
Out on the street, turning tricks
A barrel organ, four dollars rent
One could include a monkey too
Or even buy them, a block away
Earn a few cents profit every day
Maybe a wife improved the view
To make a buck was the intent
Street life could have been kinder
And intervention was never tardier
Yet a Mayoral ban, it would seem
Begging, not the American dream
So it was outlawed, by La Guardia
And New York’s last organ grinder
STEPS ASIDE
They’ve banned the “step counters”
Outlawed the treadmill and stationary bike
Banned jogging (aka fast walking for the elderly)
Sports will be limited to “non-aerobic” activities
Tiddlywinks tournaments will be Government funded.
Scientific research and investigation
Funded by the “stay inside and die sooner” chapter
Of the “Governmental Gottcha Groups”
Has conjectural and anecdotal evidence
That the heavy breathing induced by exercise
Increases the carbon dioxide emissions
Of those engaged in anaerobic exercise.
Suggested alternate activities are:
-Daydreaming,
-Scheming (aka conspiring with imaginary friends)
-Meditation…without chanting
-Astral Traveling (with or without passport)
-Thinking, but only about the things presented in our booklet
-(also known as “Talking Points)
Or the “Rip Van Winkle” solution…
Go to sleep for twenty years
and hope it’s all over when you wake up.
John G. Lawless
©2/24/2023
In Red China they've just outlawed Ping-Pong
You have to wonder what too them so long
To have to play in a mask
A near-impossible task
But what got it banned were those skimpy thongs
Smile a while oh weary hermit
This life is but a dream
God will take us to the summit
Let heart gently love stream
Our lower mind outlawed
Give pulse of love a nod
Be still and trust in God
Discard guile
Smile a while
06-November-2022
Quietus
Poetry soup
Offering gifts of
Eloquence and rhetoric
This emancipation of candour
Revitalized in common goals when
Yielding seeds of open-mindfulness
Specifications spontaneously unshackled
Oppression outlawed; this is indeed the
Unreservedly unremittingly
Punchbowl of purposefulness and literature.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
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