The Grass
HER. I almost forgot. The lawn looked dry.
HIM. What lawn?
HER. Ours. I noticed while I was waiting for you tonight...in the car.
HIM.I wish you wouldn't do that. Baumgartner is always ribbing me about it.
HER. Wish I wouldn’t do what?
HIM. Wait in the car until we leave.
HER. Joey Baumgartner should mind his business.
HIM. The sprinklers have a schedule. You have to admit it's a little nutty.
HER. Sitting in my own car, in my own driveway, in front of my own house. I wouldn’t need to if you were on time.
HIM. I’m not that late.
HER. You're always late. You should water the grass when we get home.
HIM. It'll be close to ten when we get home. Besides it's not good for it.
HER. What? It's grass.
HIM. It gets mold if you water at night.
HER. So? It's grass.
HIM. All the experts say it's bad for the grass.
HER. Well, my experts say it's good for the water bill.
HIM. Fine. I'll water the grass.
Satirical Journal Entry #1
Attempting Suicide:
Just The Beginning!
If I killed myself today would anyone notice? Would anyone be at my
funeral?
If so, would they come just ot give themselves peace(piece) of mind over
all the things they took from me?
I guess better late than never!
Hmmm..........
A corpse could always use a loan or a shoulder to cry on.
I wonder how I would be dressed?
Ah....... maybe somehow right before I die I could mangle my face so my casket would stay closed.
-Less opportunity for more disappointment that way.
If I killed myself today all chaos in my mind would end.
I would be in hell for sure
but I know that all this torture on earth would be forgotten.
Yet one question still remains.
Is it worth the damnation?
Yes! I am a selfish !
Just Another Average Christmas
Just another average Christmas, not especially good nor bad,
When everyone says dinner was the best they’ve ever had.
When Mother works her fingers off with no respite nor leisure,
But keeps her best face forward and pretends it’s all a pleasure.
Just another average Christmas, when kids reject their presents,
When parents wonder why they tolerate their adolescents.
When grandparents sit smugly, watching as their offspring suffer,
Reminding them that Christmas always used to be much tougher.
Just another average Christmas, a day when booze flows freely,
When those in party games would rather watch the telly, really.
When Granny loves her pot-plant, and Granddad loathes his socks,
And speculation reigns about what’s in that extra box.
Just another average Christmas, not especially bad nor good,
When everyone feels ill from forcing down the excess food.
When kids go play their X-Box games, whilst Dad pulls on his sweater,
And vainly hopes that next year’s Christmas Day will be much better.
Oh, the gullible women threw themselves
at his intellectual poetry and prose.
To him, ah, he was as delightful as the scent
of a fragrant spring rose.
To their delicate dismay, they found him to
be a fraud and a sneak!
Inside, his forest green cape, they gasped!
Beware: HRM Prince Control Freak!
He was spreading evil talk amongst the princesses,
Causing dissension, heartbreak and not so
subtle hisses!
But Prince was simply righteous,out of some, to make fun?
The elixir of lies spread, by him was anything was droll
and humdrum.
He has changed, I am happy to loudly report!.
He has learned that others have their own views, not
in need of unwanted retorts.
8/6/2022
Same Tune Different Lyrics
Here lies a watchmaker
He’s met an untimely end.
The hands of time took their toll,
Though his achievements were quite minute,
He was first to spring at any challenge,
and in his final hour; he prayed for god to watch over him.
Watching the festering global sores of mankind
This propaganda called news, has on rewind
Images are shown for their shock value
Then compromise the effect with their marginal views
Atrocities are shown, religious zealots leak out
But the story's one sided, free thinkers have doubts
Political pundits push, independence for all
Third world economies propped up from the fall
Global warming is real, eager scientists report
Our president's vacationing at a private resort
The impoverished are starving, the land of milk and honey
Abundance receding, the food banks want money
Hatred and bigotry, open wounds from the past
With military surplus, revolutionaries are gassed
This relentless bombardment is numbing our senses
While access to our country is being prohibited by fences
Our children aren't safe, their education is lacking
International larceny from subsidized hacking
Opinions are based on the images we see
Ephemeral sadness declines instantly
This biased information, which we receive
Is one sided and filtered, leaving us deceived
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Well, it's back to the sillies I go
This serious stuff is hurting my brain
If you notice I'm being serious again
Admonish me, must be totally insane
Must maintain my “silly” status
Or I'll totally fade away from the scene
“D'ya hear bout a guy who walked into a bar”
Sorry! Well you know what I mean
My humour's more of a cerebral nature
Yah right! Who am I trying to kid?
I'm down with all the rest of those guys
An image I could never get rid
Satirical, slapstick or self-deprecating
Puns creeps in now and then
Not what you'd call that high brow stuff
A hit with my P-Soup friends
Well hopefully I've got my point across
Though I might write a “serious” again
But they'll be rare, few and far between
A great big relief for my brain
© Jack Ellison 2013
* Wrote this one a while back *
" Dear wife, why don't you embrace
the wind of changes by being ablaze? "
the disillusioned husband inquired...
" A lot more affection is required! "
You patiently bore my off-spring with continuous glee,
when constant fortune was the source of fortitude in me,
you knew how to satisfy every desire, every need of mine...
have you withdrawn the generosity of such a gladsome smile?
I glamorized the moments we spent alone
into the silver moonlight, the kisses we gave
to each other under that rustic shelter, if rain came,
and no fragments of luminous stars fell from heaven.
If I were a chivalric hero, returning from battle with tales
of valor and victory: you would be running to me
with roses in your fair hair and delight on your young face...
so what's keeping you from reaching extremity?
There's an absence of emotion in responses,
with lots of repulses to repress my advances,
while my gratification remains incomplete...
as a parting embrace with a doubt so infinite.
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