Ban pre-shredded cheese, “MAKE AMERICA GRATE AGAIN”
That's more like how the prez would write it if penned
Not the brightest of bulbs
The one with the mid-term bulge
Ill winds are blowing Prez Orange Hair, two years to the end
I shoved my fingers into a paper shredder to trim my nails.
But it shredded my fingers and it hurt like hell.
People stare because I have stumps instead of fingers.
I had to give up my career of being a country singer.
Listen to my advice so that my predicament isn't some thing you'll have to endure.
Don't be an idiotic moron like me, if you need your nails trimmed, get a manicure.
Where I eat, you ate there; where I rest, you rested
we share the same navigation through our similar steps
and that part of me so classified
became an open coverage to you.
In the shores of my privacy, I’ve given you an equal right
I’ve showered you with unparalleled privileges
allowing you to travel extreme corners not needing a pass
and staying actively in control because you have my license.
Oh my dangerous dear
my trust and openness are your weapons
I never knew freedom in the world of another gives so much power.
Your lips have connected the world to my confidentiality
and such criminal hands possessed by your vicious mind
has placed me in the middle of a multiple trap dungeon.
Despite our close physical proximity, we’ve been oceans apart
that is how it’ll remain as soon as I survive your conspiracies.
The heart suffers an illness, when an enemy is made from a loved one
but life’s varieties include both training and rehabilitation centers
with the conviction my pieces will undergo a cosmetic perfection
to stay strong with the defenses of caution.
The flick-flack of the shredded Flag, the bugle marking time
The Soldier laid to rest, midst those that went before
The crosses like snow-white trees, stunted before their Prime
In order, line upon line, do we never learn from War?
Straight elegant and graceful
Was the walk to fate
Without a winkle or smell
Of the dreaded death
Poised on each lurking venture
The dawning of a smirk
Dangled from the wandering eyes
Meandering to the silky slide
Of each earthly mould
Beholding the grinding beads
Drew beads of lusts
Dropping like lump of hails
Destined to crush the rising rush
Into desired pieces
Exquisite
moments
float
to
and fro
to
and
fro
as
a
feather
on
a
breeze
this way
and
that
then
settle
as
a
letter
upon
memory's
welcome
door
mat
Your silence only
ampliphies the lies
And keeps problems and
doubts well fed
Comfort and trust
quickly sicken and die
What's left is a shell of a
memory
a life
Shreds of things we've
built together
Float through the still, stale
air
of betrayal
a desolate place where
decisions are hard
and consequences seem
heavier
than the mistakes that
gave birth to them
In these periodic moments
of paralyzing sadness
I consider jumping off
the side of this island
Into the unknown
with nothing but a leaky
raft
of pain, broken oars to
guide myself further into
solitude and the leftover
vows we couldn't keep
,
These rectangles of wheat, that looks rather dashing
You smother with milk, then fun comes with smashing!
They give morning a boost !
Or can make a good roof….
In case of storm, when the house takes a thrashing!
I can stack them in rows on the roof, with my spouse
We will snack as we go, (a few tucked in my blouse)
Our breakfast a treat !
The morning complete !
The tummy is filled, plus a new roof on the house!!!
Shredded Wheat really does it for me
So yummy right down in my tummy
It reacts so sublime
As I'll know it good time
That once again we just won't agree
Tweet, being not to bright, but an adventurous bird
and with men in the park pruning trees that fateful day,
to keep Tweet from playing around the wood chipper he had heard,
Fred and Bart tried, but knew there was nothing they could say.
Such fun Tweet was having, but he was just getting started.
Flitting in and out, dodging limbs that would crack.
Closer into that grinding maul Tweet spun and darted.
There was a soft whump...then some feathers flew out the back.
Fred and Bart knew that poor Tweet was now dead.
For too close to the chipper, Tweet, his head he had poked.
Fred grabbed startled Bart by the bill and then said......
"Don't even start with the shredded Tweet jokes".
For the contest "Enough"
Did not get this entered in time.
A brisk ride with a little known uncle,
to a gathering of loved ones, reunited,
quickly turns to a journey of hell.
Torn away from her home,
she is subjected to a horrifying
world of depravity and terrorism.
On a country backroad,
with no one to witness,
her chastity is torn away,
along with ripped clothing and flesh.
Struggling for freedom, fighting for breath,
she strains against their hands.
They violate her tiny body with their own.
She screams and cries out for "Momma."
The tears flood her tiny eyes.
With no one to save her,
this nightmare is real.
Each movement brings forth more pain,
seeping to her very core.
She endures the ghastly assault
from the demented couple, she does survive.
Back on the road, with drugs prevailing
the truck comes to a violent stop.
She runs to her earthbound savior
with wings of denim and an old red truck.
He rescues what is left of her angelic being,
kept safe until the enforcers present.
She now battles, not for her life, but her mind.
The outer scars will fade with time,
but his face and voice will haunt her
and live in her nightmares from now on.
I tore apart my sheets
I ripped apart my bed
Until I stood there wondering
What is was that I had said
Could it be I did not listen
Could it be I did not care
Could it be how much I loved you
And for me you did not share
You were always, never there
What’s done is done
I’ll live my life and so will you
But I wonder if you wonder
What else we didn’t do
The deed is done, no turning back
No matter how much you try
It’s forgiveness that I lack
I say it was you
You say it was me
I guess we’ll never know
How loving each other could have been
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