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Best Guy Chaifetz Poems

Below are the all-time best Guy Chaifetz poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

View ALL Guy Chaifetz Poems

Details | Guy Chaifetz Poem

61 and Done

When you’re born into this world of ours.
You have no idea if you’ll reach its ivory towers.
If you’re lucky to be born into a house of wealth.
Chances are, you’ll go far, have money for yourself.

And even if you aren’t a stiff, who got a lucky draw.
You can still makes millions, as we certainly have saw.
So what exactly is the definition of a successful life?
Money, fame, success, children and a loving wife?

My point of view is one that’s true, what my father told me.
Son, peace of mind, if you can find, you’ll never end up lonely.
I heard the words, not one absurd, but somehow didn’t listen.
For I’m 61, my life’s not fun, not an enviable position.

How I got here, perhaps that’s the question on your mind.
It would take a book to explain, how I came into this bind.
I’ll give you the short of it, I made some bad decisions.
And now it seems that I’m living in the Spanish Inquistion.

But you’re not dead you say, there’s more life has to give.
I agree and want to be out of this insane prison and to live.
Want to enjoy, to employ, the gifts and all the wonder.
And not be attacked, from the back and live a life asunder.

At 61, your life’s not done, you could have died at twenty.
You’ve had many years upon this earth, enjoyed it aplenty.
But if you’re broke, your fire’s unstoke, not a life of envy.
You ask yourself day and night, what will be my end be?

If I had fifty thousand dollars at this point in my life.
I’d create a machine, that would put away all my strife.
So if I can sell this house I own for more than what I bought her
I’ll take the profit, if I can, if I’m not underwater.

And with that money, this ain’t funny, I’ll make a whole lot more.
For I have ideas in my head that will even up the score.
It’s sad, it’s true what I must do, and list this property.
And chances are, I’ll go far, live life properly.

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Guy Chaifetz Poem

Another Day Without a Dollar

Another day without a dollar.
Another day, I’m not a scholar.
Makes me yell, scream and holler.
Another day without a dollar.

Another day, not one red cent.
Another day, must I repent?
What the hell, can’t pay the rent.
Another day, not one red cent.

Another day, and there’s no money.
Another day, and it’s not funny.
I can sell, as sweet as honey.
Another day, and there’s no money.

Another day, and I’m still broke.
Another day, no fire to stoke.
As I can tell, I’m not a bloke.
Another day, and I’m still broke.

Another day without a job.
Another day, I’m no slob.
I don’t smell, and I won’t rob.
Another day without a job.

Another day, when I’m on top.
Another day, this has to stop.
Things will gel, they’ll be a pop.
And on that day, I’’ll be on top.

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Guy Chaifetz Poem

My Country Tis of Thee

As we all try to make a living
And pay this month’s bills.
There’s an insane world out there
Whose flags won’t come unfurled.

By that I mean, The American Dream
A gift that we’ve been given.
Is a wonder, beyond no other
They don’t get it, it would seem.

When we have a sports event
And we salute our prestiged flag on high.
Express our gratitude to those that serve
On their commitment that we rely.

We have our faults, with bad results
I chose to overlook.
My Country Tis of Thee
I love you, I shall never forsook.

For you have given me freedom
The world has never known.
I am forever grateful
For the seeds that you have sown.

For all our leaders who’ve misplayed their hands
And misjudged what we all think, 
In two years we’ll vote you out.
Your party, it shall sink.

And for those of you who question the second amendment
Of mad men on their insane quest. hold on to that sentiment.
Have a look across the seas at Egypt, democracy in jest.
Won’t happen here, that’s for sure, we protect ourselves you bet.

So as I conclude this interlude and finish all my thoughts.
I ask of you, “What say you?” Have your beliefs been bought?
Am I to conclude your attitude is one of a have naught?
Or are you the patriot that this country has forever sought?

Are you from the left or right, does it really matter?
What’s most important is “all of us” amidst the endless chatter.
Do or die, Semper Fi, on this I do believe.
My Country Tis of Thee, I will never leave.

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Guy Chaifetz Poem

I'm not Stupid

When you’re stupid, it’s hard to succeed.
When you’re stupid, you’re always in need.
When you’re stupid, every moment is fear.
When you’re stupid, nothing is clear.

I’ve never been stupid, at least that’s what I thought.
I’ve never been stupid, learned all I was taught.
I’ve never been stupid, gotten all that I sought.
I’ve never been stupid, then one day I was caught.

Now I’m stupid, my lifestyle is not fun.
Now I’m stupid, I‘ll forever be done.
Now I’m stupid, no value to none.
Now I’m stupid, my wits no longer have won.

Advice to you stupid, hear these words that I’ve said.
Advice to you stupid, you’re still breathing, not dead.
Advice to you stupid, keep at it instead.
Advice to you stupid, life is beautiful, not dread.

Why am I stupid, I’ve lost all that I’ve known.
Why am I stupid, over 60, broke and living alone.
Why am I stupid, each day I’m overblown.
Why am I stupid, can’t find my way home.

OK, Stupid, your life’s in the gutter.
OK, Stupid, your heart’s all aflutter.
OK, Stupid, you’ve lost your life’s rudder.
OK, Stupid, it’s one way or the other.

Listen Stupid, you have only one choice.
Listen Stupid, celebrate every day and rejoice.
Listen Stupid, the world will hear your voice.
Listen Stupid, From that the lives you will hoist.

You’re not stupid, the world has changed.
You’re not stupid, it’s just been rearranged.
You’re not stupid, things just aren’t the same.
You’re not stupid, just have to keep playing the game.

I’m not stupid, I’m sharp as a tack.
I’m not stupid, just watch me react.
I’m not stupid, I’m prepared to attack.
I’m not stupid, You’ve not seen my last act.

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Guy Chaifetz Poem

I'm Just The Chef

(Commentary on a husband and wife relationship)

No one sees me, I’m in the back.
Cutting up the food for this evening’s snack.
Working my ass off every single day.
Then end up here, with not a dimes pay.

Every night’s the same, never any help.
Everybody wants to eat, at Johnny they yelp.
Is dinner ready yet, it’s getting close to eight.
My show is on at nine, don’t want to be late.

Some people may think it’s great to be chef.
I’ve heard enough of that, I’d rather be deaf.
But on and on I continue this confusing plight.
So everyone can have their evening’s delight.

One of these nights, I swear I’m going to quit.
And whoever wants to eat will probably throw a fit.
But when that day comes, everything will change.
I won’t be chef, I’ll have another name.

©2012 Guy Chaifetz

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2012

Details | Guy Chaifetz Poem

Chicken in the Pot

The sun is setting and soon I’ll be getting in the mood,
For some chicken in the pot, my favorite kind of food.
Some chicken thighs, potatoes, red peppers and tomatoes.
Add onions, mushrooms, and carrots, whatever you say goes.

Then choose some kind of marinade, it really doesn’t matter.
Salad dressing, barbecue, or maybe something hotter.
Bake for an hour at 350 degrees and soon it will be done.
Let it coast for ten minutes after it’s out of the oven.

If you’re lazy like I am and don’t want to spend hours
In the kitchen making something that you will devour.
Then follow my simple recipe that I’ve described above.
And you will have a dinner, that you will surely love.

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Guy Chaifetz Poem

This is The End Ode to Jim Morrison

Sanity on Colonial Road no longer exists.
The endless spiral downward still persists.
Friends have been lost, no longer exist.
Life is strange, wipe me off the list.

Have no wife, no kids, no job.
And yes, I live the life of a slob.
Feel like I’m hiding from the mob.
Give them time, they’ll do their job.

61 and obsolete, too old it seems to compete.
61 and without a dime, got too old before my time.
61 and life’s past me by, happened quick, sigh.
61 never thought my life would be a lie.

Where are the grandchildren to make me smile?
Where are the days I can relax in style?
What kind of fool have I be in life?
Why do I have to endure this strife?

If it were cancer or heart disease
Or some other health issue if you please.
Then I could understand what I’ve been dealt.
And try to keep living, not be willing to melt.

I once had a life, a business, a dream.
I woke every day with a full head of steam.
But that business, that dream has faded away.
And I have not replaced it, have not had my say.

I keep trying to reinvent myself.
As I’ve been told it’s that or all else.
I’ve been at it for the last two years.
And my reward, nothing but tears.

Perhaps I’ve had it too easy from the very start.
Inherited a business, my father’s death was a part.
Did all I could for almost ten years.
Then closed the doors, but had no fears.

Started a new one, way back in ‘86.
From the beginning, I knew it would stick.
Lived a good life, not rich but no worries.
Until it nosedived and gave me the sorries.

When you’re 61 without a dime to your name.
It’s hard to look back and feel the same.
For almost forty years I lived the dream.
Now all is lost, I do nothing but scream.

Oh, I send resumes to all the employers out there.
Not one reply in two years if your dare.
Unless you want to sell credit card machines.
There’s no work for you, you ain’t living the dream.

I’ve had plenty of good counsel and lots of advice.
Not a single thing in two years has been able to suffice.
I think of the gun virtually every single day.
Get over this misery, say goodbye and good day.

What you say, don’t ever give up?
What about George Eastman or Ernest Hemingway?
Or Hunter S. Thompson from Rolling Stone by the way.
You think my problems pale by the way.

I tire each morning facing my painful non rewarding life.
I hate the world for not recognizing my strife.
I have so much more to give to this world.
But if no one can see it, let the flags be unfurled.

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Guy Chaifetz Poem

These Days

These days are a challenge, it's no wonder
With this whole world all asunder.
Twas better when I was younger
Unaware of war and plunder.

Or making money to survive each day
Never was this hard, I surely say
Lost it all in a very sad way
I'm obsolete, I no longer play.

I won't give up, I'm not a loser.
I drink too much, I am a boozer.
My thoughts keep coming, I'm not a snoozer.
Please don't judge me, be my accuser.

Am I the only one whose life has become
A daily grind, with fear and then some?
Why can't I find the faith to be at one
To believe life will change, once again be fun.

I need to work for life to have meaning.
To strengthen my resolve, to be redeeming.
Where is the job that I am needing?
Don't want to beg or needless pleading.

I open my heart, my mind, and soul
In the positive vein, I'll reach my goal
Like a crap game, I'm on a roll.
Got out of this rut, out of this hole.

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2012

Details | Guy Chaifetz Poem

Victory is at Hand

Victory is at hand, we’ve made a glorious stand.
We’ve killed all those that betrayed us.
With their lives, those stalwart fools, they have had to pay us.
We relish the blood, their faces in the mud, what now can they say us.

I kill you or you kill me, that’s the way it is you see.
No room for quiet conversation, only weapons to persuade me.
I have no concious, no regrets, no guilt that follows me.
You killed my brother, then another, your death, it sets me free.

So now I go home to a place I’ve known but it is all in ruin.
Nothing is the same, all’s destroyed, it is surely your doing.
Why couldn’t we have talked man to man as human beings?
Not follow the path of murder, what is it that we’re seeing?

Don’t talk to me of history of ten thousand years.
Of who came first, was the first and deserved what was here.
All I know is death surrounds me, truly confounds me
Each day with its pain brings yet another flood of tears.

So my people have won this round, we’ve killed all those we seek.
My biggest fear, in another year, your breathren will not retreat.
We’ll face another battle, an endless war between us.
We cut each other’s throats, will that truly redeem us?

I kill you and you kill me, who wins in the end.
Neither of us can justify what we do, our lives that we defend.
When will we put our weapons down, and look around
Let the tears come down, put our hands out and say, “friend.”

Sounds like a dream to me, hasn’t happened since mankind
Graced this earth, evolved at first, then murder did he find.
Let’s raise our guns, kill all our sons, blot out the memory
Of life on earth, for what it’s worth is pain and misery.

Will this solve the endless battle that has no end it seems?
Will this somehow stop the killing of every human dream?
As they say, those that may, who’s job it is to selling.
Just stay tuned, the news at noon, it is truly compelling.

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Guy Chaifetz Poem


Tinnitus, tinnitus, it kills your peace of mind.
A ringing in your ears that cannot be defined.
And if you have a very severe case like mine.
You wonder if you can continue in the human race devine.

I’ve had this condition for well over five years.
Spent twelve thousand dollars and haven’t found a cure.
Others that have it say they just ignore in a way.
I’m not so lucky, it drives me crazy night and day.

I’ve found a way to silence it for a very few hours.
And that’s with shots of alcohol and then things slowly sour.
I suppose the booze really is a double edged sword.
It’s killing me and the ringing until it later roars.

I drink more now than ever, it’s a crazy thing.
No doctors have ever helped me, been able to bring
The noise down for more than a day.
Then it’s back at 5:00 am, having its noisy way.

I stopped drinking for about three months a year or so ago.
The noise never left, but somehow I managed don’t you know.
But now I’m back to the bottle willing to pay the price.
For those few hours when the quiet is very nice.

If there is someone out there who has found a cure.
I’d like to hear from you, of that you can be sure.
For this ailment is doing its best to slowly destroy me.
And my desire to go on living is beginning to flee.

People get diseases, live in pain and get treated.
And if they’re lucky continue with life as needed.
Others aren’t so fortunate and sadly pass away.
And we remember them with every passing day.

So every day I wonder what I’m supposed to do.
Stop drinking, meditate, concentrate, live with it, too?
This is the advice I’ve been given by many others.
But they don’t live the life I live, because I can’t recover.

Ringing, ringing in your ears 24 hours every day.
Why I haven’t gone mad by now I truly cannot say.
So until they come up with a cure for my condition.
I’m going to keep on drinking, my friends I will not listen.

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2012