When you travel and you’re on a plane,
Attendants must always explain
What to do in a crash
But the words they rehash
Most on board think are spoken in vain.
Yet a Delta flight recently dipped
As it landed and suddenly flipped.
Every seat belt held tight
As each one on the flight
Dangled upside down, very off-script.
Flight crews got all the passengers out
With some injuries scattered about
But they all did survive,
In one piece and alive,
Though quite shaken up, there’s little doubt.
A payout from Delta proposed
Thirty-thousand for each one exposed
To this harrowing turn
(More than some people earn)
But not worth it, as many disclosed.
Nothing quite like taxpaying civilians:
tax billionaires of all of their billions.
But win ‘em a lottery?
Resolve gets quite watery:
seems the IRS wants two hundred million.
----------
People reportedly outraged at having to pay $200M in tax on an immediate payout of the $1.6B lottery, lol.
(This one is a bit long for a limerick. I wish there was a generic Quintilla - the English is ababb and the Sicilian is ababa, and this is of course aabba.)
Absent any arrogant disdain and curses
O where are the oracles of oblivion?
Were they transformed into scattering electrons,
Doomed to roam a panoply of multiverses?
Will black holes pull such souls into witless demise,
In a penumbral, mindless quantum destiny?
If they placed their life bets for an eternal prize,
What a paltry payout to win for eternity!
Among all those who faithfully opt to believe,
Rejecting lifeless prophecies as do deceive,
They fare far better, oblivion or multiverse -
True faith knows oblivion is a devil’s curse.
Mephistopheles' paradise is wormy blaze;
Spurning devil’s delights, offers heavenly days.
I’m unsure in what I write, whether subject matter or product
Are the words I put to page worthy of being a construct?
Am I saying something worth saying, worth making
Worth reading, worth saving, worth the work slaving
Day in and day out when the payout is a tracing
Of a thought that’s been drawn to its conclusion since the dawn of creation
Let’s face it, I can’t reinvent the wheel, but is it okay if I just express how I feel?
I know the answer’s yes, but that’s evident
It’s less about knowing it, it’s more about accepting it
I always expect more of me, why write formally
When its quality soon becomes the precedent
Maybe it would be better if I put myself under less pressure
Maybe it would be better if I didn’t give it my best effort and just let it out
innocents throw snowballs at traffic
whiz to the past, where
a parent would receive their little scoundrel
and a swift scolding. . .
swiftly we return to present day
where the payout for a child’s slight:
sadly it’s raining bullets
and the innocents fall
like Autumn leaves
red and pale
a cold call
a siren blares
life’s not fair!
1/7/2020
Professional Poet…
to cringe at the term
A lonely consensus,
so much to learn
Days writing couplets,
nights dreamed in verse
Feelings when gifted,
mine to rehearse
Professional Poet…
to run but not hide
Resisting the accolades,
cousin of lies
The Muse calls my marker,
chits payout in thought
Each line spoken freely
—no longer store bought
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
Ganksta fools
coming at you incorrect
like thugs
Political dull tools:
Criminal IQ fakers
showing total disrespect —
Tick-tock bugs
Clock benders of societal rules,
indecent lawmakers
Cut the bogus tax check ...
Pinocchio ears on tapped phones,
sporting a swag orange rug
Bandito style old school,
Ruble.con hustle takers
pad the pimped pockets that Soviet forget
Leave no meat on the T-note bones,
give the pub a lick swindle hug
Sucker slurp the sugar cube rube voting ponies
Game the parlay bettors pool:
Earthworms vs the Dirt Rakers
House tissue money on a porcelain toilet
Rigged royal flush won’t payout right for any wrongs ...
So spit spin a Russian caliber propaganda slug
in two revolving roulette chambers of covetous harmony
Fifty cents to a thug dollar,
fifty-fifty you gon give
a doggy groan something’s wrong holla
Muzzle the lips wearing a Moscow collar
Let the enticed Oz eyes speak
in emerald envy locked jaw harmony
Silence! Colonizers of low pedigree
When my husband and I were in Las Vegas, I had a great suggestion,
To go to the Little White Chapel, and renew our vows in celebration.
I thought it would be such a lark we wouldn’t forget.
Having Elvis perform the ceremony would be the best thing yet!
However we never made it to the chapel, he refused.
To do such a silly thing did not leave him amused.
Maybe that was an indication of what was to come.
Divorce ensued, and sorrow beat its drum.
I want to go to the Little White Chapel with a new man.
We would have so much fun before our life began!
We could play a slot machine on our way out.
Then we would be man and wife with a payout!
Professional Poet,
I cringe at the term
A lonely consensus,
so much to learn
Days writing couplets,
nights dreamed in verse
Feelings when gifted,
not mine to rehearse
Professional Poet,
to run and then hide
Resisting the accolade,
cousin of lies
The Muse calls my marker,
chits payout in thought
Each line spoken freely,
—no longer store bought
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
Desires of fame and wealth beyond needs
And some want the end of the world to come
But he who demands the payout and dismisses the harbingers
Will not hear the tuning of the trumpet calls
Beholding the natural intricacies of nature
Is a sight most intriguing for the gesture
Found in the flamboyancy of natural art
Observed in picturesque landscapes in part.
The land lays in calm tranquility
This Sylvan land, a beneficial quality,
A background of lofty mountains with breeze
Venerable parks of forested trees.
Mysterious is the beautiful and creative layout
That the Creator gave all creation as a payout,
To enjoy the ancient splendorous Eden-like
But forested evervescent garland theme pike.
Included too are also Earth's moon, clouds and
Often a rainbow lurking over for his majestic stand!
Contest Title: Monorhyme - Poetry Contest
Poetry Contest Deadline: Tuesday, June 07, 2016
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
Date submitted: May 20th 2016.
Dear blockpoet
I think you got me confused with someone that cares, It's lovely how you enjoy accusing anyone who is not in your corner. I hope the cow suit helps your self esteem. I did not deserve the harassing letters, you and your lady friend sent. I speak to whomever I want on this site. No one voices me, but my mother you are a dirty casino, with no payout at all. I will not let you bully me the same way you do others. Thank you for sending your patheticness through the mail. I'm a young adult, and still found myself violated by you.
You are very disgusting, I'm not as naive as you think I am.
Mr. You messed with the wrong 18 year old. Next time you want to bully little girls, think twice. I have a father, a mother. I sent the threatening soupmail to the superiors of this site. Nothing I said to anyone on your blog was offensive. Does it help blocking the poets who stood up for others. I left a good comment, about the woman you constantly enjoy bullying.
To answer your question. Your blog was highly recommended. I never did a thing to you, I hope you feel better and sleep well at night knowing you just bullied this 18 year old.
Belly
100% Chica pride
I smile when-
Woman has strange men over
You laugh and mind business
Married to your ******* neighbor
I frown when-
Man wants medicine for kid,
Clinic shut down,
Alcohol delivered a government payout
Mary Lou,
I’m calling you,
to send a hundred and two
checks of blue.
Answer me please do.
Am I getting through?
May I get an OK from you
before you bid adieu?
I am waiting like Bartholomew
in “The Taming of the Shrew”
This player hasn’t a clue.
Your response is overdue.
I received a golden hello
But nothing of banking I know
On commodities, the future I bet
For large bonuses each year,to net
Too soon the 'bubble' has burst
Of course,everyone else,has come off worse
But I do not reap what I sow
They gave me parachute payout & pension to go
Global finances,crash into debt
Yet still I have no regrets ...(yet !)
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