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Jerry Dinzes Poem
You are witnessing a change in tone,
A new piece of the Rosetta Stone...
It may blow your mind
To find your behind
Has fallen quite far from the throne.
Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2010
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Jerry Dinzes Poem
The Orangutang:
There once was a traditionalist,
Who in his ignorance had missed
The beauty of youth,
The ever-changing truth!
He's a typical fundamentalist!
The Traditionalist:
"I can't stand these kids and their slang!
They are just looking for a bang!
Their rhymes are funky,
But so are monkeys!"
- Did he just call me an orangutang?
"These darn kids and this gosh darn slam,
It may flow, but it's still a scam!
If it ain't metered,
Then it's petered!
Why waste your ink scribbling flimflam?"
Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2010
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Jerry Dinzes Poem
She was in search of spiritual transition,
And spent her time in lotus position.
A Reiki Master,
posing as a pastor,
Invited her to missionary position.
****
This limerick has been dedicated to a mischievous marriage wrecking Reiki Master. What power the Reiki Master yields - such that he need not even touch you, and yet you be touched!
Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2017
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Jerry Dinzes Poem
Living on mama’s dollar,
Living on papa’s dime,
Living in hard times,
Playing card games,
Paying no mind to squalor,
I get high on crime,
And when the pocketbook gets thin
I’m still a bawler,
Because I’m living on mama’s dollar
Living while papa’s doing time
In the 9 to 5
While I dispatch rhymes
And whine about paradigms
How do you expect me to survive,
When I’ve never been deprived
Humboldt State University, 2014
Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2017
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Jerry Dinzes Poem
Love is simple, but you must let it be.
Enjoy its form, let it dance wildly.
Love rests not on a page so idly
as described by a man so scholarly.
(It’s not so learn-ed as it is cuddly.)
Love is confusing, when thought of too much.
When words box it in, it loses its form.
Love is too free to cram into the norm.
Vexing and fretting and sweating and such –
habits that have turned many hearts lukewarm.
When love faces you, don’t make a demand –
just hold up your chin and shoot love a grin.
Just hold out a hand and welcome it in.
And if love pass through your fingers like sand,
Touching love briefly is not such a sin.
Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2018
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Jerry Dinzes Poem
From the very conception
We were born of good and evil -
Born from coitus pure and carnal,
But born angelic from inception -
Or were we just morally neutral?
Just as children learn of good,
So do they learn of sinful ways.
Where one finds good, evil always preys -
"It is the ying yang of livelihood",
To quote Jenny Palu's phrase.
Its the path of least resistance
That so oft lures the children near,
And into sin which they'll revere.
Morals can be such a hinderance!
And good's path can be so austere!
Evil is the way of the beast -
And while man is certainly a mammal,
He shouldn't act like an animal!
And if he does, let him be fleeced,
and Remembered as infernal!
An animal must kill to live,
And acts carnal instinctually.
But this differs from man's folly -
Survival is an animal's motive,
But man murders demonically!
Consider that many murderous men
Used violence to right a wrong,
And often they are praised in song,
At least by there own countrymen!
Who share their sense of right and wrong.
But while a murderous Saint
Is beloved in one nation,
Others don't share his sense of salvation!
No, they feel the so-called Saint's taint
In his godly devastation
Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2009
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Jerry Dinzes Poem
Written from the perspective of a younger and
even nerdier version of me. A kid who confused courting
with chasing Romulan. But a kid with heart.
She don’t deny she’s so fly;
So hard to see; Gone in the blink of an eye;
But a bird of prey has to try, he can’t be shy...
Feathers slicked back, I’m feeling sly,
Feeling smooth; Thinking that I own the sky;
I spot her tracks, lick my lips,
The prey’s in sight,
I lock onto those enterprising hips and make my move;
I lay down a line that I’m sure has never been uttered before...
She laughs and says, ‘You’re not my sort of guy!’
And why? Perhaps she doesn’t like my syfy;
She might think that my Vulcan salute is moot;
But if she would only let me do the mind meld,
I would show this lady a world she has never known before...
Of course, if we did the mind meld
she would find out about my collection of GI Joes,
and then you know she’d let go.
It’s funny – It doesn’t matter that I am one of the pros who can deal with life’s throes,
That I never call the ladies hoes,
And that I know the right time to throw down a rose and a rhyme...
Because she is into a bling-blang ding-dong;
Who has his head stuck in a bong;
Half the truths he knows are wrong,
he learned them from a Kanye West song;
Yet she goes back to his nest to get undressed,
And together this couple, these oxymorons, they consummate;
All the while I sit alone at home, thinking of Lieutenant Uhura, and I masturbate.
Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2017
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Jerry Dinzes Poem
He's rolling along the blacktop,
Rolling past Flora's crop,
Like a disinterested wind,
A Zephyr without a clue...
He doesn't stop to take notice,
It's just one foot before the next,
Placing his worn out size twelve
Atop a sweet daisy...
His touch is rough, and,
Better fit the for handling the
Painstaking labors of life
Than cultivating flowers in the garden,
Some men take pleasure in plucking lilies!
They are the farm hands who reap your fields!
Other men specialize in sowing seeds,
They are those who recognize the flowers' needs...
He's not so handsome as Narcissus,
But knows well, how to piss a goddess off!
He laid to waste and wilt many flowers
And soon gained the title of 'invasive weed'!
He has no place in the garden,
No knowledge of the flowers' anatomy,
His touch is too rough to the pedal
He can't keep his hand off the pistil
Pluck the weed
That cannot heed
The need of a flowering seed
Out of my garden she decreed
Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2009
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Jerry Dinzes Poem
Such a colorful bird,
Donned in plume so celestial,
Played in the theater of the absurd!
Though an act of love, the vision was blurred,
The theme of the show was carnal and bestial!
But the Bird was a lover,
Free of the restraints of another,
Who high above our hearts did hover!
Oh, this bird is such a heavenly endeavor!
Am I bad for wanting to pluck a feather?
Oh Bird of Paradise,
Open your wings in flight,
For the night sky is your vice –
And it brings the Kings of Man such delight!
You colorful thing, you’re brighter than moonlight!
Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2009
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Jerry Dinzes Poem
The river runs it's course, pumping like a vein.
It's a lonely lake's water main.
It doesn't stop to cry, doesn't feel pain,
Just goes and flows, not hearing my woes.
The lake bides it's time, it's in no hurry.
And doesn't share the rivers raging fury -
Nor a drying pond's dying worry.
It sits and waits; rain and run-off it baits.
The rain looks with it's eyes covered in fog.
It cries upon church tops and down in the bog.
Washes the hog while wet lovers snog.
It's tears relentless, an old man is tentless.
A sunny day comes, the lake does shimmer.
Even old goats come out and glimmer.
Young mares suck in to see who is slimmer.
Don't need a Hummer to enjoy a good summer.
Copyright © Jerry Dinzes | Year Posted 2006
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