Hey..' I'm gonna tell ya bout an Aussie gurl
That sheila called Iyah..Who's pummeling
Out hell.' she used a throw away
camera and made (that song; karma-geddon) wow
She sings it out strong, i swear old
satan is quaking..Cause she also found God and
Like a billion followers.? Now with the
Truth she's sure shod.' Shoot'n from
those sweet lips' what the whole world needs
to hear.' Bout
Evil billionaires and scientists..Oh dear oh dear.? About
Wicked actors on smutty screens, the dark side of stardom, that is sick and so obscene, her medicine is
shooting round like lightning, the world is waking up, shes like
The best of our Nation, why don't ya go
look up her stuff? Hear the reality, feel
The answers, as they rise up in you.' As
she shoots it from the lips, giving cover so
You'll make it through!, Get there to her side, and pray for your soul, in this time of
Of proof and testing, just put satan on hold..Tune in to Iyah..Turn to her page she; is to be found
on most information platforms, don't
delay act now, spread this info..
Its a deffo.' Hey just turn her up' AND MAKE IT LOUD !!!!!
The hillbilly hoe down is in full swing
We are all trying to be crowned the king
We put up our dukes to everyone we see
Jumping into the fray is my Uncle Lee
I am pummeling my brother and two strangers too
One has a red face, the other one is kind of blue
My brother say “hey! I am your bro, you crazy boy!”
“That’s what makes us rednecks, what brings me joy.”
The hillbilly hoe down is held in the holler west.
I brought my own whiskey, my moonshine is the best.
Auntie tastes my barbeque sauce that burns off her tongue.
This hoedown in Tennessee is all kinds of fun!
I think it would be
so much better to be someone
else, not fighting to shine
half as hard.
Because I’m not even shining,
I’m just burning,
pummeling through the atmosphere.
My flesh is melting off my bones,
which are just charred as my soul.
But then I realize,
you are holding the matches.
And I would be so much happier,
without your
presence,
your blaze.
I’d rather be a blur in the lines
the push through more years
of this.
At popular Pennsylvania State Fair,
ponies were preparing for prissy pony pageant,
promenading ponies' pretty polished hooves,
parading promoter, Percival Poppycock,
promised prize-
pauses, perplexed,
as Penelope Percheron,
a primping draft horse,
prances into pavilion,
petite ponies patter,
prima donna Penelope presents
perfumed self,
pricey pink ribbons, pearly teeth,
panache!
Prestigious panel of judges
promptly present Penelope as
"Princess Pony",
she pirouettes, pulverizes display
of plentiful pumpkins,
pummeling stands,
pure pandemonium,
people, popcorn, peanuts everywhere,
Penelope picks herself up,
proceeds with precious Princess Pony prize,
proudly preening,
positively pompous!
Pummeling skin to score
More of a game than a war
Preventing immunization
A killer strategic sensation
A kindergarten student is not usually sent to my office.
I am the counselor, who gets my shares of stirrers.
Usually when a five-year-old is sent to me, they are crying.
This little blonde blue-eyed beauty was not crying.
She had a smug look on her face, actually not a tear in sight.
Find out what happened, the principal said, before she left.
What happened? I asked the dainty cherub.
When?
I am not sure “just now?”
Nothing.
I have to call the teacher to get an inkling.
She was fighting.
You mean arguing?
No I mean flat out fist walloping pummeling fighting.
I look for scratches or bruises but see no evidence.
Were you in a fight?
She nods her head.
I smashed them and bashed him, she told me.
She had a pleased smile.
I am surprised, but not stunned.
I have raised three daughters.
Two of them are tough.
She brags about her fighting prowess.
I find out later this little darling has four older brothers.
Chinrest in place I begin to play my violin and the whole world
disappears....
an appassionato moment of pure delight, among the chaos of
a swallowing ocean !
Dreams I never dared dream pour out like blood, at the cusp of
a massive drowning;
Titanic of 1912, a collision of magnitude proportion between
ice and steel,
the thrum of dying bodies pummeling down into the sea.
She was beautiful, a broken fire in the middle of the
Adriatic Sea...
He a Jack of the arts a poor man with a lucky card
then there was J Bruce Ismay, a coward
with a license to preach, a self appointed God,
who placed greed in front of life and progress...
I play on, " Nearer, My God, to Thee"
my music becomes my last will and testament,
as my feet sink and my soul leaves my body
I play for the God who saves,
I play for the drowning victims,
and I play for the sea, that taketh me
proper pummeling -
acorns strike in a mast year
as chipmunks go nuts
As I watch the magnificent waves out at sea, on their journey back to me, I think of all the brave sailors and fishermen who became victims of the fury I see below. The violence portrayed and the helplessness of a tiny ship caught off course. Tears moisten my eyes.
Lamenting over the erosion that years of this phenomenon has caused, and knowing Mother Nature knows best.
Forceful, mighty waves relentlessly smash against the cliff face, creating bountiful bursts of explosive white foam erupting against the rocks.
A magnitude of surging, tumultuous sea water bursts mercilessly against the battered land giving forth a silver mist sprayed high, to be returned to the angry sea.
The ocean like a furious banshee, pummeling itself, smashing against the rock wall, powerfully swirling a torrent of vivid froth, slowly disappearing as the ocean retreats once again.
Like an almighty cauldron, curling and twirling, stirred by the sea, it came bashing, as a torrential torrent pounded endlessly.
The wielding waves crashing and wafting spray, offered no mercy, so from my clifftop vantage point, I walked away.
The wind persisted in blowing me about,
whipping the willow branches with its beat.
It continuously raged, a tempest storm,
a force of nature that never bows in defeat.
Now, its companion has soaked me through
Rain has chilled me right down to the bone.
It's brought weapons of hail, the size of plums,
pummeling me as if it were throwing stones.
My tears have mingled with drops of cold rain.
Gale force winds have taken me to my knees.
It sounds as if it's screaming my name...
I reply, "Release me from your throes, please."
If wind and rain could screech in laughter,
I'd swear I heard them cackling like witches.
My thoughts were scattered; I was filled with fear,
as wind hurled hail stones with well-aimed pitches.
I had no strength in me to fight nature's opponents.
Combined in combat, they held far too much power.
No longer could I hold either of them at bay,
I cringed and withered as if I were a wilting flower.
Go on break its heart, don't be shy, ask it why
was it said in that way and not another?
Or maybe why the hell you even said that anyway?
A poem enters a boxing ring
gets beaten up, yet in the end
the loser is a winner,
the pummeling has changed its shape.
A seagull poops on your head,
kind of funny, everyone grins.
An eighteen-wheeler jackknives,
no one is hurt, poop does not kill,
but you're a poet, some kind of genius,
so you write about slippery bird guano
on a wet road,
a truck hydroplaning,
cars bursting into flames,
a trucker dying of colon cancer
long after that fatal accident.
Misery and joy must be manipulated
then handcuffed together.
You publish the deranged thing -
your mistake,
it's just another aberration of your nervous system.
Then you wait for some wiseass
to tear it apart,
and it serves you right.
A rolling drum of thunder resonated
outside lightning twisted across the grey
expanse of sky simply inundating.
Trees began to tango, swirl and jive
while sheets of rain plummeted from clouds
pummeling our startled lawn,
emboldening the rhododendrons to bloom,
liberating the Clematis to sprout,
invigorating and exciting the whole garden
and all before the first day of spring.
Wind over my wings lifting my soul
Like huge ballasts of friendship
Buoying my wounded spirit keeps me
Afloat, through rough seas buffeting.
Faith tells me we shall soar above
Like foamy surf crossing the breaker,
Washing upon distant shore with ease
Like a sailor keeping eyes on his Maker,
I shall bathe in God’s everlasting love
When the rocks constantly pummeling
Turn my innermost thoughts to Thee,
And then I experience the divine kinship
Which makes me whole.
written October 1, 2021,
[upon hearing the news that my dear
friend Richard Moberly is nearing the end]
in my reverse style, abcdefgfedcba.
The gods at war again
Throwing bolts of lightning,
Torrential pummeling rain
The sky is dark at midday
The gauntlet has been lain,
Tots find it all so frightening
Tearful 'til the beast is slain.
written August 30, 2021
A second is defiant
a minute is aggressive towards my dreams
flourishes a formidable mental anarchy
I creep confidently by the tail of a second
To the dejection of sympathizers
The patience of my sympathizers tires me
Waiting for the minute of abortive strife
Anticipated steps abrogated
Triumphant move trails the second
When fear surrogates confidence
Hope carries away the receiving end
Pain being exacerbated by giving
To bond the two sides
For passionate diffusion
Carrying hope together
Sending waves beyond normal.
The prologue was so pulsating
With punitive ideas meant to probate
pummeling the frail wasn't prolific
the effort of maternal Ponto punch,
but made it abreast with the potent
pseudo abrogate of stitch made it puck
the accord was to prelude penal
disloyalty chastens from pudenda
we swore the cause by purity
now we stand exhibiting
enjoying our terrifying purl
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