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David Sherman Poem
The 44th President “one who is blessed” in Swahili,
Happens to love his wife’s Shrimp Linguini.
His desk, in the senate office once belonged to Robert Kennedy!
Renegade Tried to make it in to an all black male calendar,
But was rejected by an all female committee.
He wares $1500 Hart Schaffer suits,
With one of his identical pair of size 11 shoes.
When the president stands up you never hear any boo’s.
A few good luck charms he has with him,
A Madonna and child frozen for eternity,
And a bracelet of the arm of a man fighting in Iraq.
Bar can lift an impressive 200 pounds wile lying on his back.
His favorite delight to drink is Black forest iced tea,
Wile looking at his red boxing gloves signed by Mohamed Ali.
But never ask him out to Baskin Robbins, he don’t like ice cream.
But if you gave him a chocolate protein bar his dream.
Hide any dog meat snake meat or roasted grasshoppers up high,
For all these things he has tried.
All wile keeping his dignified pride.
He gets a snip and a trim once a week cost him $21 dollars,
That’s real cheap thanks to Zariff.
In whom the Obomber confides in to talk about the week.
He mite have been the one who convinced the malotoe,
To trade his Chrysler 300 in for the hybrid.
His memoirs, Dreams from My Father won a Grammy in 2006.
He was o past war president that was left handed the 6th.
He left a stag party which had a stripper in 1996.
As a teenager he tried marijuana and cocaine,
And Berry collects comic books like spider-man and Conan the Barbarian.
His specialty as cook is chili,
His favorite TV shows are Mash and The Wire.
He has four places in a Chicago home to build a fire.
He uses an apple Mac laptop to look at Pablo Picasso art.
He has read every Harry Potter book,
I wonder if he spoke Spanish to his pet ape back in Indonesia.
Copyright © David Sherman | Year Posted 2010
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David Sherman Poem
Here I stand, a little over two-thousand years later!
There worlds are not the same, coming from the creator
One ritually set to hold fast.
The other has forgotten about the laws of the past.
I look about entranced into the wonder of how this came to be.
This is not what I thought it would be!
I was born like any other man in the present;
Through a line of sin not hesitant.
As I grew older I became entangled in the worlds flesh.
It started simple, just taking things that had different owners, what a mess.
My mother had no control over me, the honor was gone.
And then it was not long ,
before I would provoke false accusations against my neighbors,
For the little possessions of his labors
His wife to start with, and maybe his daughter to.
And any other envious things My lustful eye can view.
All the way to the grave where he lay.....
The flowers by the way!
Soon there after my pride soon set in.
My eyes began to see the lust there set to begin.
My ears began to her the whispers in my ear;
The words of all those jezebels, my dear!
My head began to swell.
There was not much left to that simple check list.
I found that the holy-spirit had been offended, I insist!
by my many doubtful words, It was a twist of the wrist.
I had been tempted once again two-thousand years later!
I feel so much more like a traitor.
This time in a world not even children are holy, pure and clean,
I know that sounds mean.
Thank the sins of the forefathers,
For there's have taken there toll.
Its A place were I have stubbed my toe,
And now I will reap what I sow
I have left my flesh free to roam,
All the pleasures of your life,
The place you call home!
I have not that control that my sins do hold.
Copyright © David Sherman | Year Posted 2010
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David Sherman Poem
Laying there just beyond my touch,
The envy of my eye,
A world in despair.
All plump and juicy,
Full of any mans desire.
A many of a souls hand in
with a stake,
Most of which pulled
from another’s place.
It’s a world confused,
blinded by greed.
If played by the rules
You Could be left behind.
You will have made a dime,
By creating a crime.
Torn between the two,
We are all confined.
If any were to jump
to a rat race,
a little or even
a lap behind,
There his life would be stuck the entire time.
Copyright © David Sherman | Year Posted 2010
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David Sherman Poem
My reflection in a mirror;
Reminds me I am a sinner.
It is a place I can look in to my own eyes,
One that shows me all my past lies.
A place where smiles turn to frowns.
Like viewing images of an old dog pounds.
So if you ask me why vampires do not have reflections,
It mite be because, they do not like there own deception
Copyright © David Sherman | Year Posted 2010
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David Sherman Poem
i can hear it far off in the distant night
the loud and sobering cry's of some poor child
the sounds now express his never ending fright
what could have gotten his guardian so dam riled
eats me up deep inside if i have to hide
i take off into the night to save a life
i ran beyond my self i ran with a long stride
and in my hands there rested a really big knife
busted through the door the boy lied there on the floor
waited one night to many i think to my self
if only i had not waited a second more
it is a bloody knife laid up on a shelf
and there she is down in the corner for ever
to remember her part in a wild endeavour
Copyright © David Sherman | Year Posted 2010
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