Short Grungy Poems

In the eyes of evil I can 
only see you,
Clouds in a sky full of 
truth,
Instincts remain and 
need to be freed,
A river of gravel and 
greed that need to be 
seen....

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Jobs, wives, none, but they love me, and I love my cats
They’d rather play grunge in the garage than chase rats
Learning Alanis Morrisette 
discovered her on my cassette
Taste in music changes, I must say they drive me bats...

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It seems at least one dorm room is the dwelling of a bum.
		I visited my son and saw big piles of grungy clothes.
                leftover fast food, open garbage--things a mother loathes!
		Sloppy sons so seldom seek to scour sickening scum....

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Floating slowly across the sky
grey fluffy clouds above up high...
Wonder if the rain will come
grungy view appearing glum.
The setting sun descends her arc
creeping in the night of dark
where dreams await to embark
yet another morning start....

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Olive green bottle garden
once beautified her perfect patio.
Resplendent with venust foliage
and pretty alpine flowering cacti.
Sadly, with declining mobility
its owner no longer ventures outdoors.
Now grungy, its only visitors
are two defecating pigeons....

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Marching with madness, maniacal, music

Artfully agile and awfully active

Gyrating, gravitation, grungy goo

Imagine the imagery intervening interest

Children causing chaotic confusion

 

Melodies making the most of magical moments

Admiring authentic adventurous appeal

Gracefully, gently, goofily gigantic 

Ice-Cream inspection, innocent ideal

Cascading, celebrations, cheekily cheerful...

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Strong as a beast,
The best career that everyone would feel envious.
For him there isn't end,
And he is copious.

Has responsibility,
needs to control and motivate the team.
Has humility,
but in his mind has stubborn self-esteem.

The representative of our country,
has pressure by the word "captain".
Doesn't react to plays that are grungy,
That's the perfect action for "captain".

Thank you my hero,
for being my hero....

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A man once known as Benny Grunch
One day led all his yatty bunch
From rehearsal to a lunch
That ended up in a crunch
When they rattled a bowl of punch

The other guests did laugh and stare
And acted like they didn't care
If Benny and his bunch
Had their grungy lunch
And put on their yatty air

But in the end the chef did send
Them all crawling around the bend
Thus they never went back
To that old seafood shack
And would never again recommend...

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Discretion drives an unpredictable wedge
into sheltered, relaxed, indiscreet lives.
Its thunder designs to whet the cutting edge
of thinking which stays safely in the archive
of routine – same-o grungy words and garbage.
An effective author might sometime contrive
to create a more asphalt approach to language 
where skillful articulation wants to thrive.
Virtue mixes confrontation and knowledge
smoothly with just the right pitch so tact survives.


October 27, 2021...

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