Go gayly to the school, Obedient to its rule, Behave cordially and cool, Don't be a confused pool, Learn the learning tool, And avoid to be a fool.
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
is an extraordinary word
Good thing that Google was invented
Great way to find the meaning of difficult words
Today a fantastic source of learning
In fact, it is truly impressive
I must admit I frowned for a while
... thirty-five letters in one word
It’s so easily to do it complicated for ourselves,
before everything falls into place
a bad workman always blames his tools
so that bad cut was my fault!!!
With President Trump, no country should mess
unless her leaders and citizenry crave hyper-stress
Two weeks in office, he’s reined in three socialist wannabees
Columbia, Mexico, Canada ~ already pleading, down on their knees
starmer/farage.) now two tools are at large.!
Use exercise tool
To lose belly using
A roller shoe glide.
Confused on world affairs
Hate flares
The thin line tears
Everyone is so tense
Makes no sense
I hate
Bad fate
But see it more of late
Because of race
Such a disgrace
People fighting on the street
With a gun you greet
Have a seat
Must believe as you
Everyone thinks only their words are true
Why do we fight
If everyone is right
We all should bow in grace
As the human race
Hate fighting hate
Much too late
Such is fate
Fire feeding fire
Grows forever higher
A cancer that is steadily growing
Already it is showing
Hate you brother
Love you start to smother
Believe in no other
What is going on today
With lives you play
Man kind starts to fall
Tear down this wall
Life starts to stall
Hate feeds hate
Much to late
Must stop this fight
It is not right
Humanity must see
The folly this be
No one is free
Everyone will loose
This is what you choose
War
Then some more
Close and lock that door
My heartbreaks
Humanities greatest mistakes
Darkest day
Coming our way
Nowhere to hide
Shifting of the tide
Hate starts to rule
It is a tool
Followed by the fool
Seems the norm on the news
Gives me the blues
.
A love story in iambic tetrameter.
Don't be afraid, please have some guts,
write a poem 'bout coconuts.
Though they are big, round, and hairy
they're not so bad, not so scary.
The water's healthy, keeps you well,
just gotta suck it out the shell.
Go have a party, celebrate,
then use one to set up a date.
Send a long drink to a fella,
with a sparkler and umbrella.
Watch him sip nectar through that straw,
lovers, not friends, strangers no more.
Use the meat to make a curry
a tasty dish made in a hurry;
shrimp, or mutton, or fish or goat
so, so, good, it'll float his boat.
In fact, prepare it for your date
the perfect dish, he'll think you're great.
He knows for him you'll go through hell
to get the flesh out of the shell.
Your food's not dull, no spaghetti,
open nuts with your machete.
Don't even have to make a move
your intense love for him to prove.
Pretty quickly, no ifs, no buts,
he'll propose. He loves coconuts!
In 2016 when I bought my town house,
one of my first visitor's was my ex-spouse.
He wanted me prepared for life's breaks and knocks,
so he gifted me my very first tool box..
I never acquired these skills in our long marriage he was the fixer,
and I never felt disparaged.
A hammer comes in handy and pliers too, but
what is a lever supposed to do?
I own an "adjust and flow aerator", which I'm not using now
and never will later.
There's a pair of clippers way too sharp for my hair.
If I need some snippers there are beauty shops here..
If I'm suddenly threatened and fearful of my life,
I'll pull out my non-functioning exacta knife.
He also included a package of white grease, which
came with cautions, does he want me deceased?
Some tools now sit idle in there neat canvas case as
I'll always hire a handyman when needed at my place.
"tool"
i was given
a stone
should i
throw it
or build
a home
This thing called the internet is a valuable tool,
for a higher, greater education equal or greater to,
any of the worldwide most prestigious schools.
Sadly, most seem to use the internet only for entertainment value.
It was a dark hole
into an Aladdin's cave of old tools.
A small window
gave the only light and fell
on a rough sawn bench wearing
scars inflicted by years of use.
Saw cuts, drill holes
and the miscued gouges
of chisels had crusted to
dark scabs. Oil stains blotched
the surface like age spots.
Reclaimed tin beaten flat
on an anvil length of railway line
covered the walls in a mosaic
of odd shapes glazed
in powdery rust. The floor
was hardened clay compacted
over decades by a pair
of shuffling boots.
It seemed almost a holy place,
a grotto cut into a life to house
precious things a man valued
back then. Tools bore a sanctity,
a purity of purpose,
the blessed instruments
of a craftsman kept
and looked after for life.
Some were venerated relics
passed down by generations.
I closed the door,
leaving the cobweb draped
silence intact.
Soon to be demolished,
its contents will be thrown
into bargain boxes
at the local trash and treasure.
Sad how the age bundles up
and dumps the holy
to feed an empty core.
You taunt me with your golden glow
But, a leaden heart lurks below.
A wooden tomb of future lore
Heroes and dragons enslaved in your core.
You taunt me with your golden glow
But, red-tipped error is all you show.
Just scribbles and scratches between each lull
The magic locked up when you’re sharp or dull.
You taunt me with your golden glow
But, I should not blame you. I already know.
You cannot be more than a simple utensil
You’re no creative muse. You’re only a pencil.
Used by us since we were little;
crying to get what we wanted.
Over time it becomes a game,
ask a teenager.
There are some Masters of this tool
like politicians, pastors, lawyers...
I'm not judging,
I work in sales.
This tool can turn a no into a yes.
Could be used to deceive a reality.
It loses its effectiveness
in independent and empowered people.
We use it and it is used on us.
Let's be very aware of this powerful tool.
Let's examine motives and honesty.
That we are not a victim or victimizer.
I have never really been a tool guy.
Disappointed Dad, though he never said.
Didn’t seem to matter which tool I’d try,
What was still fixed would end up broke instead.
The hammer ended up hitting my thumb.
The screwdriver would fly off through the air.
If I plugged something in you’d better run
‘Cause power tools were more than I should dare.
I wanted so to help my dear old Dad
But I could just be trusted to get hurt
Or drop something, and then he would get mad
And have to pick the pieces from the dirt…
No, the job for me was hold the flashlight.
Any tool in my hand didn’t sit right.
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