Short Twits Poems

Elon Musk has more money than brains
So he plays with space rockets, not trains
And now he can tweet
That Trump can't be beat
Since he traded his Sharpies for crayons...

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Martin and Lewis two funny fellas
A crazy person and singer from the 50s era
Movies were hits
Two silly twits
Lightened things up after World War II terror...

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so like I this book
tis so fast and joyful.
With secret humor
And a goofy stories too
twits its cover reels happy

3/13/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©...

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I've often been called a wee bit spacey
Not Kevin you twits, I'm a different daisy
March to my own beat
Not the norm but still sweet
Spacey I'll accept but more like pasty...

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Wretched twits and tits 
ticks flesh and 
the rest 
stuck trapped in mesh 
blubbered blood 
pretty ones drown in mud
no hair no lice
it's fun smile
young one 
this is life 
it wont happen twice...

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Twits
Hanging
Inverted, dumb
listen in, ease dropping.
Chime in with rude chirps when prompted
With presumed relevant authority
Unwelcome interruption peals
Clangers
Rung


-------------
5 June 2017...

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Witlessness 

Someone must have stolen all the “wits”
For it now seems the world is full of “twits”
Who doubt the signs that warn them of “wet paint”
When told they’re sitting in it say “they ain’t”


John G. Lawless
©2/26/2023...

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The “Last Great Race On Earth” takes place in Nome, Alaska
Called the “Iditarod”, sled doggies race, now I ask ya
Why do these loonies do it
These are very strange twits
Eleven hundred miles! Rather watch it on my iPhone on my veranda...

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The “Last Great Race On Earth” takes place in Nome, Alaska
It's called the “Iditarod”, sled doggies race, now I ask ya
Why do these loonies do it
These are very strange twits
Eleven hundred miles! Rather watch it on my iPhone on my veranda...

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Listen to poem:

tippy-toe tap tap
pitter-patter slosh 
splish splosh, splash,
drip of tap
purr of cat
twits of bird chat
ratter tat, ratter tat 
knocks on my door.
The unintended muse
was stifled 
by the hiss of bliss
perusing the lines
while muffled mute, 
ignoring
what was installed
between them,
instilled!...

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Love bluff 
pink lovely stuff 
never burns 
though it melts 
and when it does flesh like metal smelts 
fools toys little
things of no great value 
sweet to touch and taste so hallow 
no finger tips no love on lips 
when you fly and leave 
I hope you know and believe 
that I too go 
from building like water flow...

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Why did He knit so many twits?
(Weak of Mind and lacking wits)
No Thoughts of their own-
Like Sheep and their Clones:
Well, what's the point of it?
Does He live His life through His Creations,
Feeling every single sensation?
He's in every Atom we can fathom-
(One never knows what will happen)
And that's the Truth of it!...

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I believe it's the inner child in me
that lives through my kids vicariously.

When they settle down for a cartoon
I eagerly anticipate the lead buffoon.

From Patrick to Dee Dee to Cosmo the fairy
the ensuing silliness makes me quite merry.

So, here's to all the sweet, colorful twits
that send me off to joyful, endless laughing fits....

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Standing on
Giants shoulders
Always play with rife
Chuckling at misfortune
as it waltzes with my life
Twits twist
The mite of time emit
The muppet shows
Dribble lines of made up
Words sentences star
Tin other sent
ten cessations
Put your finger within the space


and become part of my verse
Everything reverse in
cart before the horse
I don't write poems
you just read my thoughts...

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...............Standing on
Giants shoulders
Always play with rife
Chuckling at misfortune
as it waltzes with my life
Twits twist
The mite of time emit
The muppet shows
Dribble lines of made up
Words sentences star
Tin other sent
ten cessations
Put your finger within the space


and become part of my verse
Everything reverse in
cart before the horse
I don't write poems
you just read my thoughts...

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A little of the flaxen locks to twiddle,
Taken she melts to the thirsty lips,
En caged the liquid burning desire,
Knocks to navigate to my pleasure?

Ice flavors smack a spicy conflict,
Twits the tongue with exhilaration,
Liquid passion in a joyous hot mix;
Foreplay chides to move my gut.

The mystic chalice bumps with passion,
On the rocks to conjures a dream,
Nacreous crescent in seductive muse;
A hitch and she rests in solitude....

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Young people today 
seem afraid to be alone
with their thoughts...

needing faces 
and twits 
to distract 
or else fits...


fearing to write
without spell-check
or a grammar that links 
needing to dress-up 
in garish array what 
past generations 
early-on 
knew
stinks
 

I think, spontaneity
is more telling 
of the good we are, 
and of our lack 
and loss—
today revealing 
a modern society 
where correct 
is unfortunately
woefully false…....

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Unwanted Gifts


She checked out the biggest gift first
Saw what was inside when it burst
Two seven foot blokes
Telling God-awful jokes
But that wasn’t even the worst...

A very small piano musician
Adopted a seated position
My ear-drums are ringing
At least he ain’t singing
As he starts yet another rendition

I think Santa speed-read our list
Or maybe some items got missed
My good wife, Beatrix
Got a big pair of twits
And I got an eighteen inch pianist...

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the same fat f*cks keep coming here every night, the same youthful twits, twisted on their favorite chemical concoctions and smug to the world, especially to a greasy chicken joint and its cyanide chewing staff. but that speed smoke, that's my five minutes in the sun, my podium, my telescope, my textbook, and my lover. for those short seconds I am the son of Zoroaster, master of my own dimensions, peering curiously through cheap glass into inferior galaxies with whimsical interest....

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Penning wrangled mime
and wared out of my skits,
I’m poked in serspiration,
My mind’s in fisted twits.

It’s not the way I spike to leak;
I’ve turned to try it down.
Still I'm rilled with florious grime,
so nothing dings me brown.

We poets are a lazy crot,
voiling with turds and worse.
Roping with the fools of corm,
dinditions so reverse.

A hong lot toke in the sub
might dude me a girl of wood.
Or how about a bun at the reach?
Well, I can’t wet a gay, but I should....

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its and to the time
Golden purple into lifts where darker crimes  
Engineered purple into sun coral memories more  
Of the underneath is a breast the joy
 Lily coral slow dark lifting golden rod
Once driven Audi sinister vehicle stalled 
Nature and automation which is greater  
As the swan its beak whisper where bliss
It's a road race twits nature and maniacs
In life's race which is greater
Nature and automation which is greater    





4/17/19...

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