Short Grubby Poems

Slivers of white flash
Grubby wind swirling dark clouds
Fat rain drops streaming...

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Those who sermonize to demonstrate they hold a loftier moral tone
Are often charlatans; uncovered by a grubby image on smart-phone...

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Grimy grubby unkempt unscrubby
He pranced around with keen delight
Skipping on cool cobblestones
Throughout the amazingly fun night...

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Cotton candy, so fluffy and soft
Sugar that floats, sticking on throat
Color that bloats, sailing like boat
My sweet hands, grubby like groft...

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Why aren't any grey, green goldfinches going to the grubby, greedy goodies
gatherings?



1/9/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©...

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Insipid blend of lemon tea
Murky depths unsweetened
In a grubby cup with a dull grey glaze
Cracked rim invisible in the haze
Of an all night cafe on the road....

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I saw an alarming grubby grumpy golden Gastly ungodly Grand so alarming gross gray gloomy ghost gathering~


10/9/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020...

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Sports has become all about the money
Go where the money is, it's not about loyalty
Sad, it's so unjust
Just eat my dust
The lure of the dollar makes your hands all grubby...

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Covid has its grubby hands around my chest
Surrendering me weak and lethargic 
Not feeling the best 

Grubby invasive hands are NOT welcome here 
“GET OUT” of this body
Get lost , disappear ….....

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Dead grass,
smudged windows,
abandoned,
 a toy truck
glints a splash of red 
in the dry yellow yard.
A rust covered bell
dangles a cotton string, 
black from grubby hands.
Silvery ghost child 
laughter floats in the still air....

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This planet’s golden day
changed by a primate stray
that worked its evil way
and all rules disobey,
driving species away.

What was the golden day
has become grubby grey.
Now I have had my say,
I will without delay
be off and go my way....

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On the bleak street
not a blade of grass,
only dust 
from the lorries,
the cement mixers.
A year later
I see a bud appearing,
by Autumn
this one golden blade
has grown tall.

The sound of a swishing oat seed
cheers me up
in grubby flatland....

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I wanted to cure myself
of you
killing my past,
easily washing my hands
of the blood that flows
from the wounds
filled with idylls.
I burned the past
and threw its ashes
in the wind,
as your complex words.
I wanted to cure myself of you
walking upon time,
and any expectation
I still have—
my hands are grubby....

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Bill Mauldin, the innovative creator of GIs Willie and Joe,

   Irked Georgie Patton but thankfully Ike told him where to go!

Billy told it like it was for the grubby grunts in the grime and mud.

   Georgie couldn't abide Billy's barbs 'cause he was an old fuddydud!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved...

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'Tis well known that President Reagan was very fond of jellybeans.

   On the ranch he groomed his faithful hoss and wore some grubby jeans.

      During cabinet meetings he had a ritual that was somewhat bizarre!

         They made no major decisions 'til he passed around the jellybean jar!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved...

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Where the black berates the whites
and barricades are crossed
that colour without
when rain gathers for release
like a slightly grubby fleece
that squelchy grey that matters
the outsider that pines for other hues
the memory it confused
Shadow contorts its form
intense in its opinion
bland has joined the band
The future aint bright
its lazing in the shades...

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it infuriates me so

kids anxious
to get their grubby hands
on their inheritance
~ their due!

anxious to claim their jackpot
uncouth arrogance and greed

so what if it’s at the expense
of someone else’s lifetime
of labor and sacrifice

the entitlement
the disrespect
mind boggling

it enrages me so
                          


posted on June 20, 2019...

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Shaped like a
polar magnetic field
but more greener
with a stub of a stem
let me see here
your name is
Granny Smith
Crisp and Tangy
4017, Produce of USA
A fine specimen indeed!
I hope the fruit pickers
didn’t put their
greasy, grubby
Beaner hands
all over your
luscious
surface.

The rough world’s bruised you
but not enough to save you.
You die tomorrow at sunup....

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Nighty night-night
	my sorry little blighter
It'll be all right
	if you can be a fighter
The devil is a-comin'
	he'll slug you with his fist
You'll see him swift a-runnin'
	to give your neck a twist.

Oh my grubby puppy
	you are bright, bright, bright
Take a nippy nappy
	or you'll bite, bite, bite
The devil's in the details
	The devil wears a hat
He'll sell it to you retail
	He'll feed you to the cat....

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This Poem Is Trash

Stinky winky yellow spots on rusty tinnies
Mouldy food on smelly plastic
Damp paper and rubber lactic
That the mice think fantastic
Gooey substance iridescent
Cartons glowing so florescent
Furry knobs being unpleasant
Fingers grubby very sticky
Shifting ugly and so tricky
Feeling sick and rather yucky
Uttering words from the bible
Invoking help from St Michael
To sort another weeks recycle...

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we are burnt inside,
          full of old straw,
          tar and wet ash;

passing trucks lift my hair,
          wash my eyes with diesel,

trees and fields behind the stop
          are fenced and grubby,
          they darken,

we are lost in direction
          between two nothings,
          untied to our kin...

seekers of line and light,
          down the way of a savage god,
          the cruel autobahn....

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I have seen the earth begin to heal
From mans great upheaval of greed and steel
Throwing the poor upon the heaps of each
Deserted mothers, wretched ragged screech
For her lost and hopeless wandering drunks
One by one, once a mothers son, now
A number less one, needed to clean the streets.

And so the earth begins to heal,
For she lives yet while we are still
Once her grubby little wriggling itch,
Well scratched now, gone from her ditch....

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I could trace back in the past 
Since my disorganized mind can't handle all of the excitement 
I feel an urge to discover something new, but what's there to dig up?
I could explore a new terrain...but my mind can't keep up

I feel like traveling back in time
Perhaps I could have one more chance to change my past decisions
But it's just my imagination...soaked up in grubby grime 
The unbearable sense of impoverishment...ruins my ambitions...

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Sticky, grubby fingers,
Chocolate covered faces,
Dirty prints on wallpaper,
Put parents through their paces.
From smelly, messy nappies,
To angelic little smiles,
These are some of the wonders,
Of our parental trials.
There's tears and tantrums,
Fun and giggles too,
Even on the tough days,
When we get covered in poo.
Parenting isn't a hardship,
It's a treasure to behold,
So be kind to your little rascals,
You'll need them when you're old....

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It was always such a delight
To see the children out in the night
Batting stones to curb
Picking at snails that trailed on the side of the wall
Just waiting for it to unstuck and fall
Ice cream melting down their grubby hands
The sound of a ball pelting the wet sand
The sounds of the shriek and screams and laughter
The start of a new game and everything after
Nothing like watching youth in the neighborhood 
That kind of joy didn’t stay like they say it would...

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