Colleen, the fiery red head down the road learned to step dance
She practiced up and down Ireland, then moved to Italy and France.
Hot blooded Italians had never seen a ginger this beautiful and flashy.
The French were unkind; they called Colleen common and trashy.
Colleen moved back to Dublin where her cousins all danced too
Three got jobs on a cruise ship, and invited her to the ocean blue
These four step danced three nights a week, and joined the captain’s table
It was the best time of Colleen’s life, she told her little cousin, Erin Mable.
Again it’s time to set some cars on fire
To smash some windows shouting out obsceneties
With Paris riots on TV you can’t get tired
Like trashy sequels of the Chaplin’s comedies
The action breaks down into episodes and gags
The crowd goes berserk with animation
They look quite serious, young lions and old fags
Rugged protesters, conscience of the nation
But don’t be fooled, it’s just the way they live
Traditional amusement, if you like
With little compensation they forgive
Until its time to start another strike
It was dramatic, till the fireworks began
Then water cannons jets endorse the celebration
Its Paris riots, open up your beer can
Sit back and watch the show of exaltation.
Chetta is the nom de plume
of a brassy, classy, sassy, and a little bit trashy
sister of the summer sun,
she's a lover of sugar and spice and everything nice;
feels sunny, funny, and a little poetic,
but fears the wrong word, the wrong rhyme and the typo;
her dream is to see the world in peace, children in laughter,
and all the people in love with each other~
Chetta lives in the city of wonder in the state of creation
where she always knows the Achara is blooming...
...then will be delighted to see
the lights of eternity,
and the daughters she imagined
awaiting her in heaven.
Ice, ice, baby
You pour me over maybe
A straw to pierce the depths
Inhale the deepest breaths
A fancy glass all fluted
In milky joy I'm rooted
A scoop of whizzed banana
Tastes of pure Americana
The decor is all flashy
Just white and red, not trashy
All dressed up in your nifties
Time travel to the fifties
For teens on scooters suited
All sweetness undiluted
A jukebox in the corner
Soothes away all worldy trauma
Drop a dime to stick a tune on
Whirrs and clicks to drop the best song
Grab yourself a Coca-Cola
Dance in lights from the Rock-Ola
Gals all twirls and frilly knickers
Dudes in shiny winkle pickers
There's an innocence and beauty
As they jive to Tutti Frutti
How we'd love to travel back there
Leaving every burden and care
Just an evening sure to thrill ya
Taste of ice-cold pure vanilla
I posted my one thousandth poem,
And this is one thousand and one.
Although I’ve not quite hit my limit,
At least for today, I am done!
I think I might have a few keepers
But trashy ones? There’s a lot more.
Perhaps I should focus on content
And stop keeping track of the score.
I think that’s a lot of dalmatians
Or maybe it's dammits instead
My sleep deprivation runs rampant
But bedtime brings loathing and dread.
You’re stuck with me, ‘cuz I’m a lifer.
The Lord only knows just how long.
It’s possible I’m out tomorrow,
Or a hundred and still going strong.
Right now, I just know I am tired;
My eyelids are starting to droop.
I bid a good night or good morning
To the friends I have met at the soup!
05.06.2020
Just because I’m a man
Does it mean a woman is a merchandise?
A device
I use any time anywhere to please myself with
Just because I'm a man
Does it mean a woman is a caretaker?
A housekeeper
Who cleans after me while I gallivant
Just because I’m a man
Does it mean a woman is a feminist?
An activist
Buzzing endlessly in my ears like a mosquito
Just because I'm a man
Does it mean a woman is somebody?
I mean a nobody
Whom I punch kick as I like to display my masculinity
Just because I'm a man
Does it mean a woman is a blunder?
A minor
Whom God said I should provide for
Just because I’m a man
Does it mean a woman is someone?
The one
Who sees how trashy am I but still let me stay
I dyed my hair red
now he’s dying for me
the flames leaping
no shame
no shame
he is wide-eyed
puppy-tailed
i’ll lead him by the leash
release him
release me
can you see us
on the front cover
of a trashy romance
i dyed my hair red
oh the flames
be flying
I’m swatting him away
the grays no-mattering
it’s a crying shame
we must grow old
oh the boldness
the brave
we’re not dead yet
only dyed
tied up for kindling
a novel kind of love
it burns
s h a m e l e s s l y
hot
6/29/2022
I close my eyes
and my world is so beautiful
filled with happy, loving people
full of jobs and security
no one ever goes hungry
I want to keep my eyes closed forever,
but instead I open them
to a trashy unkept America
filled with anger, hateful people
full of unemployment and laziness
some people go hungry, because
they can't afford food
and i just want to close
my eyes again
to envision "my world"
I remember when the days were longer
Or at least it seemed they’d never end
When times were tough, and we struggled
Through day after day of troubling blend
So tight it was difficult to tell where one
Ended and another began, Mama said,
“We might be poor, but we aren’t trashy,”
Wondered whether I’d be better off dead
Sometimes when wants gave way to needs
Difficult for a youngster to understand
Especially when taught to simply make do
With what one has in this grasping land
We did muddle through those lean years
And times did get better, or so it seems
Years came when we were not so needy
We were able, at last, to live our dreams.
written September 3, 2021
Yes, I do have a black tie he said
He showed up with it stuck to his head
His wife was not classy
Her gown was quite trashy
They were escorted to the flower bed
The next couple was luckier than that
They brought along a dog and a cat
hidden in their coats
Were put onto tugboats
Tossed out to sea past the graveyard flat
On the night Harry met Meagan Markle,
He couldn't believe how she sparkled,
For she was quite a dish,
And he made then a wish,
She'd be his for he was already partial,
To the way that she stood, walked and spoke,
And he made it plain it's no joke.
He took her to wife,
And she ruined his life,
Compared to before now he's broke;
For his grandma is England's queen,
And folks bowed when he came on the scene.
Now he's Meagan's toy boy,
But she's still his joy,
He's too blind to see through her scheme.
She wanted to be a big shot,
But her beauty is all that she's got,
And with stars in his eyes,
Harry reached for his prize,
And wound up with a high maintenance snot.
She tried to cash in on his name,
But the royals won't play that game.
They called her trashy,
Said she was too flashy,
And that her whole family's the same.
My eyes are sutured
can feel the threads,
I stitched them together
stoned out of my head,
Seemed like a good idea,
or so my friends said,
Glue would have been better,
now I can only see red.
My jaws where broken,
teeth wired together,
High on drugs again,
under more peer pressure,
They dared me to down
extra large measures,
Got a pool cue across my face,
carried out on a stretcher.
Yeah I’ve done mad stuff,
and bear the scars,
Causing trouble, acting tough
in trashy cheap bars,
Drank melted shoe polish,
washed down with bubble bath,
Following day I paid for it,
you do the math,
So next time on a binge,
know your own limits,
The whole future can change
in a few short minutes,
Spend life behind bars,
just for being complicit,
Lose count of the shots,
its Perspex visits.
By
David Kavanagh
Some girls are brassy, some are flashy
Some girls are even a wee bit trashy
They give you a tweak
A tug on your cheek
Prefer girls that show some ass-ies
Supermarket blue
After a splendid lunch of goat chops
With salad, my mood was dreamingly contented
To she got the idea of going to a big supermarket
Except for vegetable, fruit, meat and fish
I trapesed miles after miles in this insanity
Of trashy food, sugary food and horrendous
soft drinks laden with sugar,
Also, the juice that said zero had a sign telling
Me that sugar had been added.
Went outside no bench provided nor inside
You are not supposed to sit down, but shop!
What happens to rings?
Some of the are trashy made for decorations
Other rings are made off gold and diamonds
And have a serious implication.
I had a ring once but threw it away made
I feel hemmed in dislike the idea of
Belonging to someone, even in matters of love.
Still, rings keep circulating from finger
To finger, an endless dance of commitment
That didn’t stand the test of time.
The bond between us is our hearts unity
Which only death can erase.
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