grandma makes
molotov cocktail
freedom fights
with action
profanity in Ukraine
warm heart on warpath
3/1/2022
Give Me A Shadorma
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Categories:
warpath, war,
Form: Shadorma
You wear your feathers proudly like a tribal chief.
However, the things you do cause your better half’s grief.
You gamble away the wampum that was meant for groceries.
That money can’t be picked as if it grows on trees.
Other females are taken in as if they were refugees.
How many nights have you spent in other tepees?
You load up with fire water until your head starts to spin.
That’s enough to make your woman’s patience to be thin.
You had better start running faster than Rin Tin Tin.
She will come after you with a barrage of artillery.
Nothing will save you. Not even the U. S. Cavalry.
Can’t you see that her skin is turning red?
When she catches up to you, she will bust your head.
Categories:
warpath, marriage, wife,
Form: Rhyme
I need a woman who can dance on a diamond and who can curse on a candle with equal aplomb,I need a woman that can calm like a bomb,
I want a woman that can sew ginger stiches on a sad man's soul,I need a woman that can sing the sorrow sweet from unexpected defeat,
I need a woman I should trust like the sun,one that will find fun in the mud,carry a ton,laugh when its done,a lady that can rob a mob ,an old mom,
I want a woman that can slap a kid like shes petting a dog,one that speaks to spirits as though she was born in the fog,having eyes that compete,
I need a woman that can raze a nation,shun reservation,and raise the meek and weak to sublimation,a woman that could die with a smile,
I want a woman that can hug,shove & tug me,a fine lady that tells me " despite working for the world you are a king handsome & rude all the while " -
J.A.B. 2008
Categories:
warpath, devotion, woman,
Form: Free verse
The time that set the teeth on edges
Clamped to grit the whip-cracked jaws,
Sprung the trap on mice and man,
Drove a stake and honed the claws
Of greed fatigue in Trojan wars.
The net sinks deep, it slowly dredges
Through the silt of basal bed,
No choice of kill, kill what you can
As cardboard fairground targets bled
A visual plasma of the dead.
Dumbly striking knell of dying
In the fields where culling gagged
With reek of pig swill and disease,
Hours slithered, daylight dragged
When toes were tagged and bodies bagged.
Midnight mass was nought but sighing,
Silence reigned when voices died
And fires flickered in the trees,
The road was raised and opened wide,
The eyes of heaven cracked and cried.
Categories:
warpath, allegory, history, peace, philosophy,
Form: Rhyme