You assume I'm interested
In all your pointless palaver
I'd rather spend quality time
With your grandmother's cadaver
It's yackety yackety yack
You're always burning up my ears
I'm starting to get a headache
And it's just boring me to tears
If something didn't slow you down
You'd keep going until I dropped
Since nothing seems to be working
I'd pay good money if you stopped
Younderward yokel yap
Yore Yorkshire yield yeager york-felow
Yak yiddle
Yammer yack yells
Yard yew yellows
Yellow-tails, Yellowhammers
Yonder yellowfin
Yellow yam yesterdays
Yuca, yogurt
Yesteryears years
Yours
Beads of sweat roll down my back,
Feeling sick I nearly yack.
Body quivers, hands now shake
Tremors of my bodily earthquake.
Heard my name; I've been called
Stairs handrail I tightly hold.
I tap on the door to my right
Nerves prepares me for quick flight.
'It' stood head to toe in protective wear
An alien! I thought with irrational fear
Another voice says "please take a seat"
Two same aliens of meet and greet.
I go and sit in a reclining chair
Laid flat back; looking up I stare.
A long, sharp needle swiftly appears
The injection begins, I'm close to tears.
They're ready to proceed on my tooth
Rigor mortis sets me aloof.
Drilling starts, I fear the worse
Teeth and dentists are my curse.
14.06.22
Endeavoring to earn a needle in a high stack.
Such a story could be said to be pebbly.
I'd admire to be by a moving plane slack.
Step onward to the top mark of the mountain.
To discover Paradise, I'll sail the ocean.
Then, the matchless clock began to strike badly.
However, I hide behind a delicate, humble fiction.
Lose all resources totally in a fantasy yack.
Written: August 27, 2021
Rhyme: A/B/A/C/C/B/C/A.
I barely know how you bear it, I said to the grapefruit
Of course, true to form, she tried to smooth everything out.
I was irked because no words arrived to sooth me.
Which made her easier to eat, actually – more palpable.
Masticating my cereal is never easy these days,
especially when the news is on, so I shut that puppy down.
If it is not good news, I do not need it, especially in the morning.
There was a wreck at 17th and Lamar, as usual.
I see one there almost every morning,
Yet I continue driving this same exact route.
And me, the woman who loathes routine,
Actually living one now. Is it my age, do you suppose?
The car radio is on some 1970’s music but not folk music.
The one channel I had on before my husband drove
And ruined things by changing my channel.
He is going to be eating mothballs for supper tonight.
My girlfriend calls to yack about her dead husband again.
I wish he was still alive so I could beat his ass, she says.
I have heard it about sixty-nine times, still it never gets old
Especially this morning as listen to the wrong freaking station.
The government is not debating,
Internally or understating,
Attacking, flipping the opposition,
Or denouncing the wealth creating.
All parties work together,
To social fairness we toast,
Maintaining the societal blether,
Announcing the financial host.
Few MPs sit in Parliament,
The chamber is internal,
The order is not permanent,
Here, the rules fraternal.
We will all look back,
Upon this treacherous time,
Commend ourselves for yack,
For prohibiting the crime.
Reverse! To the Coronavirus,
Stop somewhere else, not here,
Glide into outer space,
To prohibit any reason for tear.
It was in Westland that I met this barmaid,
She looked fragile,and complexed with manifestations of excellence,
That very night I sat exactly after four seperated bevies nailing myself to eminence,
Kindly when she served me a bottle of drink,
I spotlighted her beauty towards higher regard,though she saw herself as a fink,
Frankly,what I was seeing in her had a prospective blink,
This lady was pitch-black,
Framed in reality,she was an erudite and not a yack,
With inner pattern deemed with confidence,
I made her to believe the first sight attraction she spread out in alpha mense,
And she divided her lips into structure of my hopeful bens,
What came after that late night is when we're now couples on honey moon,
And I just can't match our excitements to what feelings intends to move,
Only when our personalities are commune and tied with a strong single loop,
Because,your presence has outlined the eyes of my heart to hold you in my room.
Rushing away from the Devils hair hoisting heave
Rushing to Gods downy laced embrace, searching as astray and bereaved.
Rushing away from your most tenebrous night-frights.
Rushing to your chain mail-cloaked knight.
Rushing away from the skies troubling tears.
Rushing to the sun-singed grassy spears.
Rushing away from the contemporary world atrocities.
Rushing to the falsely glazed generosities.
Rushing away no longer
Only rushing to authorities, tongue untied, and hands unclasped from behind my allegorically lashed back.
Rushing away, wiped from my options, forced to breathlessly quarrel and yack.
Anne Dickins
Anne was an endurance cyclist,
But in 2011 she ruptured her back,
Which meant that she did enlist,
Cauda equine syndrome, her yack.
A physiotherapist cool by profession,
And a Games Maker in London 2012,
Anne was offered good instruction,
In canoeing by Colin Radmore, wealth.
Although she suffered seasickness,
Anne took motion sickness lessons,
Normally for fighter pilots skill, duress,
Which meant she overcame sessions.
In 2014 at the ICF Worlds in Moscow,
She won the gold for the 200 metres,
And in 2015, Milan, a silver did follow,
Then 2016 at the Worlds, gold litres.
She was born on the 20th February,
In 1967, so she has much experience;
She won the gold in Rio’s hot country,
In the KL3 class of her convergence.
Able bodied children dead!
Even fate grieves hopelessly
In justified keening, lamentation, mourning.
Not one pacifier!
Queens royally sejant...
Troops under vultures' wings,
Xylophones yack zealously...
Dating nowadays is like chasing the wind,
Looking for that one special friend.
They are young and they are old, and most like to yack.
But for the most part, I would like to throw them all back.
There’s match.com, eHarmony, and Christian mingle,
All claiming to be the greatest thing if you are single.
It is what it is, but from now on before I court,
I will be getting the handy background report.
It’s Unfinished Business
Knowing so well that you have the answer,
To church, Christian theology and beliefs,
That’s it’s just a mental illness majestic,
That they’re really only sanity thieves.
Shut up by the Youth Fellowship leader,
Who used disability and loneliness techniques,
Under the shelf of nobility, ruined asunder,
By their communication fabric and cliques.
Pleasured by evolution, overjoyed, focussed,
Able to express that meaning to be given,
Wanting to tell the whole story, not discussed,
Of behaviour, choice, sex and genetics, driven.
Going away for a bit, but will come back,
From those debates on creationism/evolution,
It’s unfinished business, the reply yack,
Time will give me my worth and derivation.
as turf wars go
here
the weapons concealed
before agendas revealed
and courtyard orders sealed
inside wetzel gooey goodness
grand central its not
maybe from the outside
but inside the buzz is low
the reverb high
lingering as smoke choking
on its own asthma
void of cache
or any semblance
of the character
chiseled into posts,
ceiling festoons
and the ethnic parades
chanting in uniform grunts,
silence and glares
required vitals from
their lost or stolen IDs
it isnt Union Station for nothing
a primal yack, spit and grin
flowing from the cakes of
baked commuters
forsaked souls
and a neighborhood watch
that drools in adoration
point a to point b (or c)
never had an intermission like this
then again
here
every director is the drama
they wish they could
coddle into love.
(10/30/13)
YACKETY-YACK
This broken pencil was just a nub – no longer usable.
I wanted to jot down the amount of this playbill dated September 08, 2001.
However, I decided to save the amount in my contacts of my cell phone.
These bifocal glasses are working to well.
I am observing a pigeon dropper slight of hands.
I am now walking down the street of angst.
Somebody had deliberately ticked me off.
Muscle spasms occurred.
I call my husband for him to come pick me up.
Disgusted by my lack of control, I begin to analyze my reasons.
Via conclusion, I derived that I am not going to be cheated out of a good life.
__________________________________________|
PENNED SEPTEMBER 30, 2014!
Making the Most of Old Age
By Elton Camp
Get old enough and you needn’t work anymore
For what you want, there’s more time than before
Should I now sit on my porch in a chair and rock
Maybe occasionally take a stroll around the block
Spend the day at the senior center to eat and yack
Any spark of creativity or unpopular opinion lack
Now that I am financially more secure and retired
And needn’t worry I’ll do something to get fired
What I say, write or do is now entirely up to me
It’s too tough if people don’t like what they see
As if a kindly old man, don’t me try to disallow
But say, “I sure wonder just what he’s up to now.”
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