FLORIDA PLEASE COME
ARIZONA ARE NOT SCUM
CANUCKS GIVE THE THUMB
I Nearly Pinned
It Down, The
Core Of My
Stupidity, Had It
In My Grasp...
I Didn't Use No
Grease, But It
Squeaked Away...
With Humility's
Grace... Sounds
Good, But Almost
Had It, And It’s
Vanished.
It Was Hard To Catch...
Oh Well, Doesn’t
Matter Now.
My Bad.
Thumbs Down.
No Giggling.
Pipe Down.
Not You.
-Gray Squirrel
06-19-2026
Thumbs up or thumbs down,
Public voice, a shifting tide,
Numbers speak their minds.
©bfa042325
BULLIES
have big problems
understanding others
feeling so inferior themselves
they feed their ego by stealing other’s
self-esteem in damaging ways
no one respects tyrants
so, thumbs down on
BULLIES!
THIRD PLACE WINNER
Written July 16, 2022
for “Radical Rictameter” Poetry Contest
sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
[syllables checked by HMS]
The economy was booming, best for years
As for unemployment then: he had it beat
Feel-good factor lifted spirits dried our tears
Voted ‘gainst him cos I didn’t like his tweets
Yes he made the border strong secured the nation
Shut out drug mules with the Covid and wet feet
Slowed persistent fundamental transformation
Yet I still reject him cos he does mean tweets
When ISIS cut a swathe across Levant
He made destruction of their Caliphate complete
And silenced their polemics and their rant
But I disapproved cos I don’t like his tweets
Brought the vaccines to production at warp speed
Others gave thumbs down to aught laid at his feet
Now they seek enforcement even without need
And to him I give the elbow - don’t like tweets
Should he come again, restore the nation’s pride
After years of deprecating self defeat
Would I then come to accept what I denied?
Well perhaps - if he would only stop his tweets!
They kept telling her to leave!
But her heart didn't hear their
loud thumping voices.
Like an idiot staying up all night,
this grandmother,quite old,
Physically worn out, decided it
was time to fold.
After all, few years had she left!
She put away her quill in her oak
desk, more than bereft.
Knowing to them she was nothing but
a "thumbs down."
But knew that was fine, as one
day, she would wear a heavenly
crown.
Loathed because she was a patriot!
Knew truth, not lassoed by fake
news lariats!
Glad she was in the PS Anthology,
She grinned with humble satisfaction.
Staring at her friend.the lone, moonlit
Oak tree.
The quill rustled softly in it's velvet
green holder.
No quitter, she, hard times always made
her far bolder.
12/19/20320
As this mad, mad world turns on a bedeviled tilt,
empirical evidence suggest
compassionate global warming regret
has gotten the cold shoulder
Scoffers with frostbitten hearts
buoy iceberg lies
Titanic size
Alternate spin facts
submerge the meltdown truth
Letting only half-life decay utterances
be the doubt-filled vapor proof
Hidden double-crossed deceit
runs dark principality deep —
Veiled villainy ain’t how it should be
Connived highly classified
camps of coin concentrated thievery
Where vox false profits
filthy lucre soil the bottom line sheet
Vexed minds rolling thumbs down on a troubled axis;
pandemic anxiety,
fretting continually
over premature burial thoughts
Death debt collector
want delinquent souls to pay their Grim Reaper taxes
The pauper field bleeds pawn puppet many
Yet, ill misfortune still
duly befall rook parrots of publican plenty
Equitable death is really a hollow, pale victory curse noted —
Same coffin justice ain’t how it blessed should be
Would this wobbling world take a naked pause tear coated ...
empathetic rest could cure the work of evil deeds
In a nation of "point the finger"'
she pondered joining the crowd.
As in the famed Roman Coliseum
she imagined herself in full glory.
Giving a glorious "thumbs down!"
After all, she told her arrogant
herself,
as she put a crown of leaves on her
head:
"Those foolish Christians need to die!"
Yet a voice deep within her, made her
wonder.......why?
'twas in the gods of Rome she believed,
Who was this Christ, these fools died
for?
Centuries have come and gone, her
crown of leaves decayed, too!
Today not only are Christians killed,
but millions of others have died,in the
milieu.
The new god is love of self, above all else!
That name, Christ, best not be spoken.
He, who died for all humanity, still a
most despised personage!
We honor false gods, read literature
assuring us of polytheism.
Then cry and gnash our teeth, when
statues are toppled, morals are a joke.
And our only satisfaction comes from
booze, hot sex or a fast toke.
June 17, 2020
11am PST
Poem # 1,249
~Murder is Not Private Matter~
If a newborn born can be killed,
Then why not you or me?
What gives you or me the right to
end a life of a full grown baby?
You and I have a chance to fight
back or to run.
A newborn, NO!!....
They will never see the sun!
They must die!
We call it "choice" in the name of
a godless humanity.
Who think Darwin, created you
or me!
"Murder by choice, "what a perversion!
But we must save lions and squirrels?
Mon Dieu, what a twisted and sick
mental aberration.
Dedicated to all the unborn human
beings, scheduled for slaughter today.
And right, I expect no responses.
I speak for them. Nobody else will!
People may stop reading them.
Popularity alway~ any cost,
*You can find no-kill shelters for
pets in any town.
But a mother, like a Roman of
old,
Simply gives the abortionist:
A thumbs-down code.**
September 30, 2019
Panagiota Romios
SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY
cool wind and red souls —
the passion-keepers
of the Superbowl
couples under warm blankets
converse about commercials
thumbs up and thumbs down
inside company pokes holes
into the crackling wood
of Southern hospitality
though none can claim
this as their birthplace
we cover North, West
and Palestine. Sings Gladys
with honor and respect
the National Anthem
hands over hearts, relishing
the antique still relevant
in lovely raiment —
at least to us oldtimers
beings of not the current
generational habits
halftime cursings
beeped out, entertainment
pleasant to those
forty some years
and below
blurrish words understood
like morse code to the youth
my mouth contentious
settle it down
with black forest dessert
where buffalo roam
in chocolate form
still assuaging our team
with handless cameras
and all things red, white, blue
who knows who won
perhaps someone will boast
in pedantic poetica
2/3/2019
Another wave of voter vexation
is swamping the shutdown nation
To the left,
the windpipes are hissing
To the right,
the windbags are dissing
And all of the kitchen cabinet aprons
got their middle fingers
pointing up deaf adder listening
Their thumbs down
is the ballot death blow sign:
Telling the weathervane citizens,
the rainy day
slush fund money is missing
The proletariat are up in arms,
so voter vexed ... they’re getting no paychecks
When the last mint cookie crumble,
the murmurers
are gonna misty-eye mumble
The viper sound bytes
are cobra kissing —
Blowing inherit-the-wind
lipstick jinn wishes
Getaway stage right poll exit
says last count call:
the vault money is missing
The proletariat are up in arms,
so voter vexed ... they’re getting no paychecks
To the right,
the windpipes are bursting
To the left,
the windbags are cursing
And all of the kitchen cabinet aprons
got their middle fingers
pointing up to the empty cookie jar
As the latest patriotic wave of voter vexation
is giving wet back hex to a grumbling nation
And the whether vain citizens don’t know which way to turn
Nero’s citizens enjoyed games of death
People and beasts for their sadistic fun
Animals and slaves drawing their last breath
Death in the arena, no place to run.
Gladiator fights were the ultimate
Hero worshipped champions of the gore
A sword thrust or spear sealed many ones fate
Crowds roared approval and called out for more.
Was man against man with sword, net and spear
Fight to the death, only one would remain
Experts in combat, none showed any fear
The loser on the ground writhing in pain.
Thumbs down, thumbs up victor looked to Nero
Thumbs up, swings sword crowd have a new hero.
received the
thumbs down
was a hit and
miss that brings
it back to the
drawing board
of life once more
causing a much
needed change
in direction down
the dirt paved road
leading to the future
and all it's possible
positive unseen
unknown promises
of betterment for all
involved
There one very peculiar foodstuff
that puts a sour crook in my mouth
It’s that stringy don’t-give-me-any-of,
two thumbs down for the sauerkraut
Just the awful smell of it makes me sick,
has me running out of the house so quick
When my nose whiff this jar of pain opening,
that chef in the kitchen no longer’s my friend
That pickled odor is an aroma of pure disgust,
makes a beautiful snooz look like a pig snout
Upheaval of my belly contents is a queasy must:
Gotta give sauerkraut the food hate shout out!
Poetry Contest: My Blue Cheese
Sponsored by: Kevin Shaw
Date Submitted: 1-13-18
To Be God Is Not Easy
Millions prayers,
Millions wishes and
Countless lives are
Responsibilities of Mine.
Justifying all these
I have to reach
No pretend, no busy
To be God is not easy.
Love, success, wealth
All earthly things you need.
But not a single including
Godman want Me as need.
When time to thumbs up
all credits are yours,
When time to thumbs down
blames are Mine not yours.
Both Arjun and Duryodhan
for need came at my threshold,
Can you believe, one of two
had tried to chain Me to hold.
Except all I have to
bless without nod,
So my dear, it is not
easy To be God.
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