Short Mealy Poems

Trump A Mealy Mouth Moron

Was starting to see
Mealy mouth moron would be
To both you and me.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet

Sounds like something Elizabeth
Warren Would say if she hasn't
already. Who cares if anyone
comments....

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Crocodilian

Mendaciously making sense.
Mealy-mouthed verbal evidence.
How many billion
More humans to bring it down?
Base hybrid . Reptillian brain
Alienistic ignorance
Secrets Veiled all around.
All we experience 
And everything we can see
Has led us through dimensional consequence
Perception beyond reality...

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The gnome wizard is proud of his transmogrifying hat.
Through telepathy he can cajole it to turn into a cat.
Or a dragon, an anaconda, a worm, a mealy mouse or rat.
The only thing he does not ask is that it turns into a bat.

A bat gets stuck in his hair and makes him sneeze.
Disentangling a bat is not easy, not any kind of breeze.
He might consider it if it is below zero, and a freeze.
For if he wore a hat he might get rid of him with ease....

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I’m a nice person ah well aware,
But there is a bitter one in me.
Undeniable to per acrimonious face,
Each day is inculcating as I age,
If you believe then believe me,
Inside me, it is dreading me too,
A few people around me,
Their faces are always wearing smiles,
But with hearts so venomous inside,
their Malice nature clothed with lovely frame
My bitter side, I proclaim,
Is eventually their acclaimed!
Found the other virulent side of my own,
Since these mealy-mouthed ones shown!...

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She needs a new familiar, she is frightened of black cats.
This was told to them by a wizard named Charlie T. Matts.
No one believed it, for she was a powerful witch after all.
It is true, agreed a nonbeliever, seeing her hiding that fall.

She was behind a birch tree, as cats paraded by in masks.
Some of them were mealy mouthed, focused on their tasks.
They scare her to death the now believer told the others.
She needs to be straightened out said both of her grandmothers....

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Little as a mountain can be,
near waters calm and an idling breeze.

Inland wheatfields sun on ears,
expanding 45 gallon cans suppressed echoes hear.

Semi's engine drone all day to the railhead clear,
sweat running on flesh like honeyed tears.

Sweet and fetid the elder scent
canvas hats the horizon swimming and bent

mealy lung invading dryness thick,
creaking timberd floor and a rustling''quick''

then quietude..as a sunbeam falls,
on  wheat shed door and cobwebbed wall....

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