A fly on the wall sees nothing at all
apart from the dung on which it will crawl.
But people will say I wish I were so,
then they could know what others don’t know.
Stare at the grifters, the losers, the cheats
while sitting quite still and sucking some sweets.
For life on a wall that is not your own
is palpably simple, when mud’s to be thrown.
But now we’re ALL flies caught in the wide web,
watch twenty-four seven our chosen celeb.
The journey, the journey! everyone is touting.
The journey, the journey! nobody is doubting.
To hell with this journey, I care not.
I want, I need, resolution on the spot.
I have toiled long enough, I’m long past despair.
How on earth can I carry on in such disrepair.
I want to give up, I want to quit now!
I am going to do it, I promise and how!
Off in the distance I hear a slight ring.
The ringing the ringing! it starts to sting.
My eyes awaken and I hit my alarm clock
I’ll be damned if nothing had stopped!
Back to the grind, twenty four seven.
The journey, the journey! is far from heaven.
Down where the crepe myrtle blooms
Their lovely color against gray
The pecan trees' verdant leaves breathe
August has brought a cool breeze day
Does the gray sky separate, block
Our view and prayer line to heaven
Or is it the colder air that chills our bones
Even though doves sing almost twenty-four seven
Doves sing from joy and gratitude
Thankful for summer's food supply
Soaking up rain droplets for water
So why can't I sing for joy, not cry
The sun is hidden from view but there
It's doing its God given duty
The Holy Spirit is here inside
Hoping somehow to show its beauty.
EMP
War will never end.
Fighting over dirt, I don’t understand.
Leaders with no spiritual direction.
Chaos, twenty-four seven.
EMP, electromagnetic pulse.
An international attack to destroy us all.
To put us back into the stone age.
Nuclear weapons lighting up the sky everyday.
EMP used to level out our electric grid.
World power towards conflict.
End of time.
It’s in our nature to obliterate ourselves.
World leaders are just brainwashed.
Always raining bombs.
Constant war, non-stop.
The cost of our freedom.
One day it will be at our front door.
If you think ants are busy, you should seek
Barry the beaver living down by Chesapeake
Gnawing down trees with every tooth in his head
Barry works twenty-four seven and will ‘til he’s dead.
Her mother was a seamstress, her aunts and grandma too
She had grown up into it naturally, serious seamstress Sue.
Her house was full of fat quarters, there were pins on her floor
Tiny bits of embroidery floss followed all her clothes out the door
She liked quilting, she was an expert, a hand-stitching queen.
Did not allow anyone to say “hand-made” in any kind of mean.
Her jackets were quilted concoctions made of a variety of fabric pieces.
She made comforters and bags for her six daughters and three nieces.
Sue's expensive sewing machine was going twenty-four seven.
Can she take all of the things she made, when she goes up to heaven?
Sue did not worry about any of this, she sewed all day and night.
Wore her spools upon her head also, she was a truly crazy sight.
Conmen squawk,
‘Fear our Bird Flu,
And that we know
What’s best for you.’
So bird flew.
For bird knew
That what men do
Is nothing new.
Open minds are few,
Thinking’s voodoo;
And what’s true
Goes up the flue.
So bird flew.
Yes, bird flew.
Because bird knew
It’s not the first time,
History rhymes,
Since man can’t learn
And always gets burned.
All this bird knew;
So, bird flew.
Bird flu.
They’ll say it’s a thing,
Say they’re not joking,
And people will do
What they’re told to do.
They’ll peck at false seeds
Planted in their mind,
Twenty four seven,
It happens each time.
This phony Bird Flu,
Bird knew;
So, bird flew.
We have no surveillance tapes
No ring doorbell to capture strangers or friends
Our house could be unlocked day, night and on weekends
Our dogs like the inside door open
So, they can look out the glass door on the outside
Our dog doors are open twenty-four seven
So, critters can get in if they need to
They do not stay long
Our dogs are the size of ponies
Which is also why we never have to lock our doors
when she left her house she was running
not as fast as a cougar, but swift for a two-legged
she wanted to get away and think
in order to do that, she had to leave the electronics behind
her husband’s television sets were on twenty-four, seven.
There were eight of them.
prairie had an amazing wind today; you knew you were in Kansas.
she knew she needed to change her life
where would she go? when would she leave?
no time like today, right now, her heart said.
she felt refreshed, cleansed, appreciated by the wind.
she sat; her hair whipping around her like a weak spider’s legs.
she began to plot
to plan
to scheme
to imagine
to visualize
but then she heard her baby’s cry
so she wandered back, into the land of the non-thinking.
A poem for Lillie on her christening day
Spurs game rescheduled in an unkind way
It's important and we’d love to watch them play
Need to put it into perspective though and say
We can catch the highlights because this is Lillie’s day
She’s a bundle of joy, a gift from heaven
Early years needing attention twenty four seven
Imposing instant demands on Dad and Mum
Cries of feed me now and change my bum
Two big brothers, a bond you can see clearly
Watch them all together, they love her dearly
A pleasant day with family and friends
But this isn’t where the gift of Lillie ends
We can look forward to the coming years
There’ll be times of smiles and some tears
Nobody knows how the future will unfold
But our precious Lillie will be ours to hold
'dolce far niente', is an Italian idiom means 'sweetness of doing nothing
It's humdrum of work twenty four seven
thrumming a suffocated heart to burnout
too many tabs open in frantic switching
moments of leisure in despair and doubt.
Can't I pause a while to look around nature?
a peacock dancing to tunes of a cuckoo,
when worries vanish in a world of euphoria
lying on a hammock, there's nothing to do.
A simple miracle, the two little sparrows,
captivated I ask, what are your names?
they flit around, twitching with a squirrel
finding hidden nuts, adventure fun games.
Mr Time is no warden...dolce far niente
in shade of siesta, there's no feeling of guilt
no gems sparkle, only with uncut diamonds,
precious spare moments, a Heaven is built
(Tucker’s Wet Dream!)
It seems ‘twenty-four/seven’ Republicans choose
to subject us, our nation to “Screw O’Clock News”
as if Truth’s all that exits their Trinity holes!
What they say is pure gold! You have doubts? Check the polls
that Fox scripts and then pays for (though fools do resist
who are closer to monkeys - most dark-skinned!) Sun-kissed
to pick cotton, from day’s dawn till dusk (if poor’s genes
chafe a bit, most are blessed by such labor). It means
they’ve served ‘Light’ (in a way!) For a ‘Darkie’ it’s play!
Yes, Tuck Carlson “hates” Trump (In his soul! Gosh! Who knew?)
though he puckers right up when Trump’s rump is in view
AND Tuck’s paycheck gets bump! Sure, Tuck smiles (swells with pride),
his tongue forked like a snake’s! Proof he’s on the “Right’s Side!”
The Conservative’s Mantra’s that taxes deserve
to be paid by the poor for they’ve less to conserve!)
Watch how wealth dribbles down! There’s more cotton to pick,
when the rich hoard their gold (the truth’s poor don’t get sick!)
Poor man’s liquid desert – faux gold trickle, not spurt!
Long Tooth
March 14th in 2023
A new day began, I sprained my right hand!
Then my furnace decided to "give up the ghost"
Neighbor brought friend who would understand;
soon, room became as warm as toast.
then it stopped dead--all was lost
my muse and I were doomed to frost.
Two electric, space heaters running twenty-four/seven!
It was twenty at night--temp's winter hat doff.
My electric bill was reaching toward the heavens
My muse preferred to scoff
while my toes were freezing off!
Probably Monday, a new one he could install.
It would cost one THOUSAND--I needed some air!
Opened my door, found my son standing tall!
A guy with tech background, drove here to share.
I needed a hero, and he was there!
My muse and I needn't despair.
Aren't sons and daughters a wonderful plan!
They will help with gusto and style.
And hero neighbors lending their helping hand!
Faulty solder fixed; the heat will soon beguile.
My hand needs a brace for a while;
and my muse? I saw a tiny smile.
My prayer is clamorous, “Let this cup pass.”
somewhat pious, a smidgen of brass.
God's Word relates how mountains were moved,
waters turned back and shackles removed.
Thus so I make my request to heaven
“Lord, the strain is twenty-four, seven.
“Lord, I can’t think in this eternal noise.
“The mess, the stress, I confess, it annoys."
My simple prayer, "If there's another way,
some stroke of luck; take me out of this fray.
God, move my mountain, can you make it flee?"
Quietly His answer came; the mountain is me.
He moved my cup to a much better place -
And filled it full with salvation’s grace.
His grace - sufficient for any event.
my arrogance - feeble excuse to vent.
July 10, 2022
Sponsor Edward Ibeh
Contest Name Pick-A-Title, Vol 31
I taste your lips
Sense your presence
Dream while awake
Suffer in silence
Thinking of you
Craving your touch
Raging with fever
Desire's too much
Close my eyes
In need of a rest
Think of you more
Mind's in distress
Imagine your lips
Warm with charm
My aching body
Longs for your arms
Hunger your kiss
Need you near
Twenty-four seven
I pray you hear
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