How soon it grows old
This New Year
Needle-less trees collect on the sidewalk
Underinflated Santa’s slump on the lawns
A Robin tugs at a windblown red ribbon
Grey beards make ruffians of snowmen
Punxsutawney Phil dreams
Of hearts flowers and green beer
A cold hand disturbing his slumber
Bring on the dancing Jonquils
Mini mangy monster Marvin moo
Nearly never noticed anything new
Outrageously outgoing onset overdue
Plunking his plush posterior on a pew
Quizzically questioning Curly-Q
Respecting ruffians Brew, Grue and Rue.
Shimmying and shaking shivering Sue and Stew
Teaching talented Tommy Treachery too
Uniting understudies under the letter U
Vaporizing validation veering into valley view
Welcoming wild werewolf wearing blue.
lacksidasical larry leaps lovingly through the air
making mincemeat marauders truly want to care
nine nefarious nigglebuns are trying not to stare
outrageously outstandingly outrunning marathon mare
providing pristine plots to princely priestly pree
quizzing quality quails wondering why I am free
resident ruffians reaching residual responsibility
stressing strenuous starlight studies under thee
tricky trustworthy triple treats tripping up and down the bay
understanding understudy underlings trying to have their say
visualizing various viillains we often meet along the way
‘xoecting ‘xact ‘xasperating ‘xersizes to save the day
zany zigzagging zealots zipping into the fray
Born With Stone-Chips In My Ancient Viking Blood
I stand against the world and its most evil wrongs
Born with stone-chips in my ancient Viking blood
My greatest heroes immortalized in great songs
As they eliminated those of barbaric crude
All had magical shields and a flaming hot sword
Words given to them by higher power beings
Enough victorious battles as not to be bored
And illumination from Heaven for their seeing
Achilles hero, was one of greater fable fame
His life was destined to die as a brave man
All of this world has now learned his noted name
So many more heroes had such amazing plans
Life is so massive, history tells not the all
Vast armies of such evil dastardly ruffians
Marched, destroy innocent people at last call
Only to be stopped by brave feats of Christians.
Robert J. Lindley, 6-20-2023
16 verse sonnet
Note- I have both Viking and Native American blood in my veins.
Each had fantastic warriors of great renown. And there is German, Irish,
English, Danish blood too....And Scotish blood too....
Savannah was from a small town. She had never been to the city.
Country boys were respectful, polite, they waited their turn.
These city boys fancied themselves men.
They were rude, staring in unexpected irritating ways.
Some followed her, saying weird things.
Savannah wished her aunt had picked her up at the train station.
She had the address, but was not sure how much further she would have to walk.
“Love the hat!” “Like to see more hair!” “Come, let me show you…..”
She hurried along, holding her aunt’s bouquet a bit tighter.
A street vendor chased the ruffians off.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “They will not be back.”
“How much further do I have to go?” Savannah asked, showing him the paper.
He told her she was going the wrong direction, and pointed toward the thugs.
“I will have my son, Orlando walk you,” He said.
Orlando was respectful, polite, and waited his turn.
He was tall and handsome, and made the walk enjoyable.
Savannah relaxed, realizing that all city boys were not thugs.
Ruffians badger and bother the rest of the world, without care.
I see them coming with their mean attitude and try not to stare.
I wonder who has hurt them so badly, that they want to hurt others.
Did they have a horrible childhood?
Can we blame it all on their mothers?
They don't always dress the part, sometimes they wear business suits.
Sit in their offices eating elaborately rich foods that causes their toots.
Pick on their employees and they are nasty as heck to their brothers.
Did they have a horrible childhood?
Can we blame it all on their mothers?
Ruffians bully themselves into the best seats on a bus and a plane.
They are braggadocio and boastful, and to others, a huge pain.
I would rather not sit anywhere near one, if I had my druthers.
Did they have a horrible childhood?
Can we blame it all on their mothers?
Ruffians wear suits that make them look like sweet little old ladies.
They sit in the subway car and they yell out to the Mrs. O’Gradies.
Are loud and obnoxious; Could they be fixed with a few smothers?
Did they have a horrible childhood?
Can we blame it all on their mothers?
She was sixteen and dressed to the likings of fashion
a beautiful loose top was her choice of today's passion
as she mounted the bus she got stares from the guys
and teasing looks, but none of them ever met her eyes
yapping away in Italian thinking she looked a bit french
they thought her cute, and some thought her a wench
"poor girl" they said, "went down town, got pregnant"
"and now she wears that top to hide the baby tenant "
they laughed as they poked each other and guffawed
gesturing like little ruffians and talking way too loud
but to their surprise she turned to them and smiled,
she was an Italian hot blooded girl, to put it mild...
when she spoke in Italian they gaped and shut up
"cretino, stupido, imbecile" well I guess its my stop !
guess your having fun at my expense, hey boys
then she flirtatiously smiled, and left with poise
they sat there dumfounded with faces slightly pinked
as she stepped off the bus she turned, then winked.
July 24, 2021
ps this is a true story by the way, slightly changed but true
never assume someone doesn't understand a language ..
I met a raccoon with a look so gullible;
Stumbling he came from a jungle called global.
Among the families with a very few high caste,
He lives in the periphery as an utter outcaste.
When asked to describe his present destiny,
He sneered and I said, "For villainy and tyranny".
His well-dressed ancestors lived in a mansion,
When those baboons began their expansion.
Buffoons have no love for incidents of blood,
So I’ll drop here, I’m sorry, just a tear-flood………
Thus, he has lost his wealth not for any thunder,
But for those ruffians’ out and out plunder.
Now baboons are so rich, but raccoon is so poor,
And they can sing songs, yet he mourns every hour.
If you’d get offended for recalling this history,
I’d drink a pot of toddy and munch a plate of pastry.
Feb. 26, 2021
Biting Satire Poetry Contest
Umuja- Unity
She stands defiant
to her stalling world
Chiming the bells
rousing a new day
Wrestling ferociously
she strives for a fresh dawn
Strutting with pride
she roots for her kind
breaking the norms
pausing the growth
of this concentric circle
ruffling the feathers
of the ruffians
As the time of spring beckons
We all have this moment of clear-sightedness
when we see we are of little importance other to the world
and clear-eyed grasp our smallness.
We can in our tiny ways push the world forward an inch
perhaps to a fairer society where children do not die under
the rubble of concrete.
We can do nothing to stop these people who will push
us into an Armageddon, and will they somehow think
they can avoid the calamity when there is no one to blame.
There was a time when one could travel unmolested
in the Arabic world, then the smell of petroleum and
the white man came and destroyed the peace for greed.
No, not us the lesser people, we are victims too of their
hunger to dominate and enslave us in mortgages and loans
that can never be paid; so we watch and wait and when
the day of disaster comes shall I help the ruffians to my lifeboat.
(After Charles Baudelaire)
Many a time, to amuse themselves, the sailors
would trap an albatross, make it a slave.
(These ruffians manned those old-time deep-sea whalers,
resenting, but indented to, the waves).
The moment that an albatross touched deck,
the proud, ungainly prince of lonely skies
had nowhere for his wings. This living wreck,
so recently so regal, was despised.
The deck hands found him funny. Some threw tack
(as missiles, not as food). One held his beak
and, bent astride the noble creature's back,
forced him to smoke a pipe. The bird, too weak
to struggle, took whatever insults came.
His wings, his greatest glory when up there,
now, down among the cretins, were his shame.
He looked down at his burden in despair.
Waterloo
200 years ago Wellington and Blucher with soldiers
made up of ruffians and ISIS type henchmen, beat
Napoleon’s army won and that was sad kings and
the nobility continued to rule unelected and setting
back an European revolution that could have saved
us from a world one brought fraternity and equality
to a reality which is not today where aristocracy do
as they please while paying lip service to democracy.
And I saw them today the crowned head and nobility
safely under canvas protected against nature wilful
play, the privileged people talking about equality while
they want nothing of the sort if they cannot control its
outcome. Flags and salutes they like uniforms and men.
Yes, for this is a male oriented celebration.
Of desert sands
And arid lands
Of highest mountains
Proudly stands
Of open plains
Of fertile soil
Where no man has touched
His hand to spoil
Of forests vast
And verdant gloss
Of river snakes
And silver dross
Africa stands huge and humble
In poverty it seems to drunkenly stumble
Of violence powerfully fed
Its bloody rivers washes red
Washing away a future splendid
As riches are pillaged
Whilst ruffians spend it
Oh Africa, continent of my heart
How widows howl as crowds depart
Sinking boxes into the soil
At the end of a futile toil
A Racial Moment
He was the family´s black sheep, which was awkward since his father was
the president of a racist party. No black people here the grim father said;
they come here with machetes and try to kill us, we have to protect our
belligerent Viking culture from these begging ruffians. But his opponent
shouted your son is a black sheep he has chimney sot on his face and he
has suckled on the breast of a coloured woman, who are you to lead us?
Show your mettle your passion to and preservation to white culture, but
do not mention the Nazi thing it was an apparition, but kill him now.
The father grabbed a machete from a black teenager, to slaughter his son,
but a Sheppard came gave the father a lamb to kill, and there was great
jubilation and beer was drunk. Later in bed, the wife asked: did you really
meant to kill your son? No the father said it was pre arranged, politics my
little darling. This in his wife´s eyes, was betrayal, odium, felt a delirious
hatred running like lave through her, she got up and killed her husband
with a single blow of the machete. The moral of this absurd tale is: don´t
keep secrets from your wife.
Barbarians trampled through the empire.
They came in waves from wherever was home.
Boors killed Romans and set buildings afire.
Cities were laid to waste when tribes would roam.
These ruffians lit Rome’s funeral pyre.
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