It was midnight in Toledo,
With the airport all locked down.
Rats were screwing on the sidewalks.
Not a taxi could be found.
Then appears behind the headlights
A night shift cabbie found his fare.
Knew an after-hours dive bar
"Thank you pilgrim, drop us there!"
Morgan swirling in your Cola.
Three olives in my gin.
Jazz was mellow in The Scale House.
It's Tuesday morning, we're sleepin' in.
IT’S TIME
Woman gave birth to boy,
Nurture them with joy
Made them man with lots of hope
Man full of force reach the top
Only to create glass ceiling to stop
Dashing woman’s hope.
Cherished breast as infant
celebrated them in centerfold
Grabbing and groping became norm
Define manhood by screwing around
It’s time for women to confront
It’s time for women to demand
It’s time for women to command
Push back Weinsteins n Cosby’s of universe
A cock and a hen held a party
It caused chaos in the farm yard
Billy bull and a cow began mating
Of course it inspired this silly bard
A crafty spider wanted to join them
From her web spun with nylon not silk
But she wouldn’t drink at the party
And declared “I’m allergic to milk”
A piggy wig said, “I’ll lead the dancing”
But quite soon piggy began to wail
When a nasty old goat butted in
And spitefully pulled piggy’s tail
The noise from the barn was horrendous
Farmer Fred heard the cow loudly mooing
He dashed in with his pitchfork and rifle
Billy bull and the cow ceased their screwing!
Farmer Fred arrives, puce in the face
He asks, “Who arranged this soiree”?
The sneaky spider pointed all 8 fingers
Soon the fowl hosts lie dead in the hay!
The farmer starts to reload his rifle
All the party animals quickly disperse
The farmer’s wife cooks the fowl in the oven
And this is the end of this witty verse
A full moon paused o’er their cars and hovered
Arousing fury in teenage lovers ~
What in ‘H’ are you doing
Shining light on our screwing ~
Moon laughed: Just trying to blow your cover
Another storm commencing.
Crow is in frolic and frenzied mode.
Searching for another slanted piano.
Upsetting melody and rhyme once again.
I haven't fully recovered from prior precision strikes.
One more slash and the heart is below the waterline.
Please mind your business and pass me by,
Bullseye...you've landed on my keys once again.
Cork screwing the mind-laying black to the breeze.
Your nonchalant carnage is nearly complete.
Now you just linger to mock and to tease.
To place my last tear in your big bloody beak.
Please- please-please, for the love of God, just leave.
Here we go again,
Give it another shot.
Let's get to know each other
Is she real or is she not?
Take the mask off,
Expose your true self,
But not all the way,
Wall off for mental health.
Here we go again,
Hoping it isn't fake.
Am I a fool, just a tool,
With pie thrown in my face?
She knows what she's doing,
But I have to figure it out.
It's my mind that she's screwing,
I just can't keep her out.
She seems so perfect,
Pure beauty the clout.
So worth it,
A gentle soul within, without.
I ain’t gonna to prison babes, for something I didn’t do
O’ no babes, not when the real blame all falls with you
You left me loving you, yet ya destroyed all of my trust
Ripped my heart wide open, then you left it in the dust
I can want you as much as I can want you, but now I can’t
You were just a player babe, just out to have some fun
Loving me, then dumping me, when you were all done
I thought I was too long in the tooth babe for all of this
But you kept screwing away until the pain inside it hits
I can want you as much as I can want you, but now I can’t
Nothin’ I can do babe, I’m just left wishing you the best
Ain’t no pride left inside of me, I knows, I failed the test
So; take yourself down to the river, if it gives you peace
Take away your troubles; give you some kind of release
Because . . .
I can want you as much as I can want you, but now I can’t
looking back to when I was a lad
They said times were hard, They said things were bad.
Picking up tatties, the pulling of peas
Coming back home with scratched grimy knees.
Screwing the Beetroot, yes that is right
Removing the tops from morning till night.
You couldn't cut the tops off, that made them bleed
Keeping your eye out for the sharp stinging weed.
Finger nails were always full of mud
Scrubbing hands would do no good.
Summer break were still lots of fun
When working the fields were almost done.
We didn't have computers, four channels of TV
Top of the pops were the highlights for me.
Kicking the football out on the street
A clip around the ear from the bobby on the beat.
Looking back it wasn't that bad
Lots of fond memories when I was a lad.
Holidays were over it was back to the grind
Wondering what lessons the teachers had in mind.
I didn't mind maths and history was great
The adventures we made up me and my best mate.
Now that I'm older looking back realise
My whole life's been an adventure through this pair of eyes.
Darn Sleep
Always Screwing Up Memories
I Might Want To Keep.
-Gray Squirrel
05-17-2025
have to screw it down
tightly lately
being often lighter than air
it tends to float
it gets stuck somewhere
maybe in tree limbs
or under a parked car on a rainy day
then again it often feels
like a 100 pounds of suet
a drag to carry around
so daily i screw it if its floats
or lift it up on a hoist
to drain off all the kind of bull crap
any soul can pick up
when it rolls around in the mud
like a flop-eared hound dog
i tell it that it is most certainly real
however
unfortunately
i am not
being only a deranged
figment of its imagination
and that i am sorry
about all the
screwing
lifting
draining and dragging
then it rests for a while
with a smile on my face
It quite amazes me
how it can be,
all the millions strong
somehow have got it wrong?
For those confused
by propagandized news,
take a look again
and you'll see the spin.
The Washington elites
prefer the sheep
not to know what's true
while they're screwing you!
That bad orange man
and his demonic plans,
shall somehow bring to ruin
a false narrative, their spew'n!
Given time, you'll all see,
what government should be,
drain the swamp a must,
for that, in Trump we trust!
Well the left bit’s connected to the back bit
And the back bit’s connected to the right bit
And it all fits together on the base bit
Then you turn the whole thing over for the top bit
The bit that goes inside looks like it might fit
So stick it in and hope that it’s a tight fit
Then these four little round bits, each a floor bit
Must be said at best they are a poor fit
This bit must go somewhere but it won’t fit
And this bit is apparently the door bit
There’s a bag of little bits they call a screw kit
The leaflet says there’s sixteen screws that you fit
No wonder nothing seemed to be a good fit
Now I’m feeling stupid and a right nit
So I took it all apart and grabbed a screw bit
Screwing screw bits where I need a screw fit
Oops, I see the top bit isn’t well fit
I think I’ve used the top bit as the shelf bit
Now I think I’ve gone and lost a floor bit
And the hinge bits will not fit into the door bit
Now I’ve got to fit the little latch bit
But it seems it hasn’t got the catch bit
I’m at the point at which I wanna burn it
So I’ll take it all apart…
and then return it
Your just a girl on the streets
Who took advantage of me
Look’n sweet, running cheap, mirror vanity
Your screwing elite
You feel complete
Don’t use me to be discrete
Come out of the woods
I know it’s you
Stop watching me
Years gave gone by and I feel fine
What you gonna do if I die
Love me or hate me I’ll be holding a rip sign
Don’t forget to say to goodbye
Yup ... there's no question about it,
I'm talking about sex, and all the
Calamity and comedy that surrounds.
Yet I'm not sure if the destiny will
Defer to the clumsy, or if it will
Remain nerve-racking on all grounds.
Because seriously, it is by far the most
Common and popular topic, that virtually
Everyone is scared to death to talk about.
Starting with the basics, the birds & bees,
Before graduating to STD's, I often
Wonder if the birthrate is in doubt.
This nauseating nervousness stays with
Us always, from the first dance to the
Last nuptial that we profess.
So as long as those butterflies keep
Flittering, we might get lucky with a
Sexual encounter, I guess.
It seems ironic that something so natural,
Can bestow so much anxiety with the
Mere thought of its success.
While we fumble along, sometimes pulling
A loose foot out of our mouth, but who knows,
We've done more with less.
Kimo, haiku, couplet
Expectations Under Wraps on Christmas Eve
wild hammering and disciplined screwing
of elves in Santa’s workshop -
will toys be fiddled with…
an exotic sleigh
and a ho ho ho drives hard
through the dark of night
unlike the North Pole the blinking lights sleep
as Santa rides down in chimney sweep
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