By: Khomotso Makitla
Day one was the first time.
Meeting the world, at large.
Differences and dependents in abundance.
Breaking out of your shell, was better than walking out.
There's was a lesson to learn on how you shell out.
Tortoise shell protects and kill, once the script is flipped.
You struggle to move, suffocating from within.
Crocodile tears doesn't help, but curls you from the truth.
Moved by eternal grief for longing, and foreshadowing.
Like a paper kite that struggles to float, but sinks
You could feel the weight, weighing, all the air dense.
For a second you feel like voicing out, but all that suffocating has boxed you in.
And like a slave you're caged in, and all your fears comes to life.
Like the sunshine, the beacon
Caitlin Clark this, Caitlin Clark that
your name is magic, you're the Cat in the Hat
You’ve got folks so mesmerized
they don’t see you’re undersized
In a tizzy, fans shell out their dough
Don’t they know you’re skinny and slow
Over you the media's ablaze
all they print's effusive praise
Yet not a word about this corker
~ your new pro team is mediocre
Spookaroo where are you he yells while standing at the window
his diaper is sagging and his witches hat is crooked and all askew
The ghostees are busy tonight preparing candy for the big kids
she says, and the sorcerers are chanting in the forest of doom
But when are the Spookaroos coming, I don't see a think out there
then he sticks a thump in his mouth and pops out his big blue eyes
They are flying in the sky my love checking out the little children
now let's put your costume on and shell out, remember no peeking
He walks bow legged to his room and parts the curtains just a wee
hoping to catch their attention, he bangs at the window with a shoe
Spookaroo spookaroo where are you, I got gummy bears for you
the witch's costume waits on the bed, he catches a cold Achoo!
Mom lifts him up and runs to the den with a voice singing soft and low
" they're a comin a comin, and they love naked bellies my son "
Quick get your costume, hide your navel, the spookaroos are here
toeing, he runs with his hands in the air screaming, no fair no fair !
Here I am
Grounded on earth
And, my fate
Hangs in the stars
My future
Is predicted by people
Who are unsure
Of their own fate
For them,
It is profitable business—
They have absolutely
Nothing at stake
All they have to do
Is to play with my anxiety
And, I am sure
To shell out nickels
The astrologers
Tell you,
“What the stars foretell”
Or, so they say!
Apartments are expensive
With an extra monthly fee
For maintenance, which I can
Understand, to a degree.
But in an advertisement
For a condo that’s for sale,
A factor was included
That would make some people bail.
Along with monthly maintenance,
The purchasers would pay
Nine hundred for utilities
But, more outrageous, they
Would have to shell out, with no choice,
(Get set for Oh, my goshing!)
A fee of almost fifty bucks
For monthly window washing!
Perhaps it’s people just like me
Who prompted such expenses.
My windows, lacking such demands,
Display the consequences.
When I take women out on dates, I treat them like equals and they get mad.
I make them pay for their dinners and movie tickets and they think that is bad.
If they want to be treated like equals, they'd damn well better pay.
They expect me to shell out my own money but I say "no way".
I pay for my meals and my movie tickets and that is it.
When they learn that they must pay, they throw a fit.
One woman grabbed her fork and poked me in the eye.
Another spat in my face and then she said goodbye.
Last year a woman used a shovel to fracture my skull.
When women go on dates, why don't they want to be treated like equals?
The feature this month is swimwear,
An answer to many a prayer:
Men shell out good loot
To eye a swimsuit,
Preferring the babe was all bare.
pump em’ full of roids
don’t give a *****about baseball,
don’t care about basketball,
could give a **** about football,
could give a piss about the Olympics
& i wouldn’t watch the Tour de France if
you paid me,
but i know one thing---
if i was one of these schmucks who
shell out an arm & a leg
for a seat in the stands to watch the
pituitary cases run round on a field
in their little uniforms,
i would want my pituitary cases
pumped full of roids,
writhing with performance enhancing
drugs &
buzzing with stimulants of all shapes &
sizes,
because i would want my goddamned
money’s worth---
all of these athletes who used &
succeeded, surpassing the sloths who
chose not to, are the real
entertainers &
is that not what these muscle bound
maniacs
get paid to do?
entertain us mother****ers!
entertain us
&
worry about what all the drugs did to
your body,
when you’re sitting home,
old, senile &
surrounded by trophies.
sucks to be a kid
on a hurricane halloween,
where putting on the
costume to trick or treat
really doesn’t make much
sense, because along with the
whole getup,
you got to fit your little self into
some waders or rain boots at the
least &
slosh through the ****
with an angry parent or
some kind of psychotic chaperone
who’s obviously got a deathwish
of sorts---
with the flood waters rushing
round &
the makeup running down your
face,
scary claw gloves tearing at your
hands &
your little plastic pumpkin
filling up with water,
destroying what little candy you
somehow mustered anyway---
besides, what suffering adult
in such a calamity,
wants to shell out some candy
(whatever they’ve got sitting around
that’s dry)
to some kid whose parents have
the gull to come & get something
from you in the middle of
a goddamn
hurricane?
dad waited 8 years
to tell him that
cancer had infiltrated his body---
dad waited 8 years to tell him that
he had done anything about it---
dad had to stop working &
when he put money in the market
under close supervision of someone
whom he thought would help him out,
the whole ****ing thing
collapsed,
like the house of playing cards that it was,
leaving only the kings & queens as always
to walk off scot-free
at a brisk pace
holding bags of money &
plane tickets---
dad’s money gone &
inability to work as he once did,
he began to watch all that he owned
leave his grasp
after working so hard for so many years
to do without credit &
to stay afloat the best that he could,
raising kids in the meantime &
saving that money for when times got tough,
for when he got old---
and so with less than 20 grand in the bank
he can’t shell out the money for the shots anymore,
not to mention the radiation---
the stone can’t be squeezed for blood to help
there’s just nothing left &
another great man will die because
america has no universal health care for its
citizens.
Just off Ohio, following the wind,
Past the China-man restaurant
Where fools shell out
After cooking their own food,
There’s a place,
A place that waste
Three thousand square-feet
Of windy Chicago,
A place Mexico would not
Call compañero de armas.
In my world
Poverty is impetus
That chiseled man.
It is hard
To stomach Chilangos
With second-rated
Refried bean and totopos.
DNA to the Rescue
By Elton Camp
Way back in the days when I was young
A man accused of “bastardy” was hung
Not that rope was put around his neck
But the girl was always believed, by heck
Money, the guy might as well shell out
He was thought guilty without any doubt
Juries just couldn’t see any reason why
About such a thing, any girl would lie
But today, to accuse a teenage heartthrob
Is no loner carte blanche the boy to rob
Accurate paternity tests by the use of DNA
Will allow the innocent guy to say, “Nay.”
The girl who this fact doesn’t comprehend
Is likely to face a slander lawsuit at the end
Any fellow wrongly accused in such a way
Certainly deserves to have, in court, his day
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