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Month: July 2021

Fury

Fifty-two,
A ripe old age,
Dancin’ nude
On a stage.

Short of help,
The owner claimed,
He hired her
Employed became.

She grabbed a pole
And shook her thing,
Another girl
Would feel  the sting.

Feeling that
Her tips declined,
The other girl
The girl confined.

Beat her with
Stiletto heel,
Wielded 
With stripper’s  zeal.

Pummeled she
‘Til she felt,
No longer looked
As good unclad.

More fury than
A woman scorned,
A gal without
Her clothes adorned.
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Danger Will Robinson

An odd start to the day,
They took him away
  Along with his friends
From a field where they lay.

Jammed into a truck,
With his friends he was stuck,
  He had not a choice
But such was his luck.

He had not a clue
Where he headed to
  But when they arrived,
He knew what to do.

A slaughterhouse stood
Where soon he too would -
  He sensed in a flash
They were up to no good.

He turned to descend
On the ramp but pretends -
  Then runs toward the street
To meat not transcend.

From the herd they were culling
But now he is pulling
  The handler, subverting
His intention fulfilling.

Through the Paterson street
To avoid being meat
  He ran 20 blocks
‘Til a needle he’d meet.

Down on one knee,
Sedate as can be,
  They hauled him away 
To hamburger be.

Not one to be lead,
He ran off instead;
  But despite his best try,
He’s nonetheless dead. 
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Seasons

Faster than a bullet leaves
The barrel of a gun -
Summer leaves are coloring
Beneath a shortened sun. 

Seasons ever shorter now
Than any year before;
Perspectives change accordingly,
The memories we store.

The endless summer sun of youth
Is lost to those of age,
Seasons pass as chapters now
Instead of page by page.

Spring to summer falls away
And winters turn to snow;
A metaphor for all we are,
Our lives like seasons go.
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Renewal

Baby cows and baby sheep,
Baby skunks and snakes that creep;
Turtle toddlers, gosling geese,
Raccoon kits with fuzzy fleece.

Nesting fledglings learn to sing
Caterpillars growing wings
Budding flowers, leafing trees,
Court and spark the birds and bees.
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Tuition

A lady, Alina Percea
Came up with a novel idea;
  She needed a way,
  Her tuition to pay -
A cover-her-cost panacea.

She wasn’t a prude but defended
Her honor she’d not yet expended;
  Though lovers near leapt, 
  Intact she had kept,
For this she was often commended.

But college tuition is pricey,
And though what she thought would be dicey,
  This virginal belle
  Figured that’s what she’d sell -  
An offer that many found spicy.

A commodity rare as a jewel,
Brought bidders together to duel;
  When the bidding was done,
  Fourteen thousand’s the one,
That over Alina may drool.

A date for the coupling is pending,
Her virginity thus will be ending;
  In deference to smarts
  She’ll render her parts,
No longer on dates be defending.
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Porta Pilot

Alone in his cockpit was flying
A Cessna, a pilot was trying
  To keep it aloft
  As it sputtered and coughed
And he felt that he soon would be dying.

He liked livin’ life in a fun way
He’d just lifted off from a runway;
  But the Englishman found
  He was heading for ground -
You can die many ways this was one way.

The plane falling out of control
Hit a fence flipping over to roll.
  Came bounding onto
  A portable lu,
Its nose diving into the bowl.

The encounter a bit of a mess,
How he lived is anyone’s guess.
  It’s a place we all know
  When it’s time to go,
He’s lucky he knew the address.
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Useless

He’s not worth the bullet
I’m tempted to waste,
But whatever the manner
He must be replaced.

A House Democrat,
Jeff Eldridge by name,
A state legislator,
Makin’ laws is his game,

Introduced a new law
That would outlaw a doll
For swaying the minds
Of little girls all.

An emotional detriment
Barbie he sees
Sapping self-confidence,
Girls ill at ease.

His bill introduced
Would outlaw the doll
And any facsimile
For any and all.

Barbie’s appearance
Sets the standard so high
That little girls grow
Into women that cry.

Jeff’s got a problem,
The world’s gone to hell
And this clown’s makin’ laws
On what doll you can sell.
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Cowabunga

A Floridian fellow, a farmer,
Hard-working and rumored a charmer,
  Was out with his cows,
  In a field by his sows,
Resplendent in overalls armor.

As was the man’s morning desire,
Grabbed onto an udder to fire
 The milk toward a can,
 ‘ least that was the plan,
But other results he’d acquire.

While perched on a stool by the udder,
The bovine’s eyelashes would flutter.
  Then in a faint,
  And without a restraint
The balancing cow’d start to sputter.

Onto its side it was dropping,
Gravity works without stopping;
  The farmer beneath
  Thought, ‘Gravestones and wreaths,’
His lungs and his organs a-popping.

They choppered the farmer to save him,
To salvage his life and his limb –
  He’s back in one piece,
  His bovine’s at peace,
Though beneath the felled cow it looked grim.
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Political Weeds

The masses must rise,
The government fall –
It’s long overdue
No time to forestall.

Every petulant fool
That wields the power
And governs a people
Thrown from each tower.

The dolts of New Jersey,
Now contemplate acts
To prohibit Brazilian
Bikini-type wax.

Some bureaucrat Bozo
Believes it’s his right,
To instruct how you shave
And just where you might.

Into your life
They root in like plants,
But they’re rootin’ too far
When they root in your pants.
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Perfect Crime

Christine Newton-John, forty-one
Had a husband with whom she was done;
  Younger was she
  Than his seventy-three,
No longer were they having fun.
 
James was the husband by name,
Thirty years senior and lame;
  To exercise James
  To a swimming pool came,
But that wasn’t her goal or her aim.
 
Once he was into the pool,
Her actions decidedly cruel;
  Too tired to swim,
  Lacking vigor and vim,
She pushed ‘til he ran out of fuel.
 
Video cameras reflect,
To swimming he’d start to object;
  When he tried to get out,
  She dragged him about,
Every effort of his redirect.
 
Forty-three times she’d prevent
His effort from pool to ascent;
  By his arms and his feet,
  Like a piece of dead meat,
Dragged him around ‘til he’s spent.
 

His heart finally came to a rest,
No beating was heard in his chest;
  With intent and a will
  Her husband she’d kill
Christine is soon under arrest.
 
Guilty she’d plead to a crime,
But only five years will do time;
  Though the video shows
  What everyone knows,
There’s no sound so it’s all seen in mime.
 
Though the visuals still quite profound,
The state said without any sound
  The defense could attest
  He requested no rest
And that James simply swam ‘til he drowned.
 
She’s freed of the man as desired,
She’ll do a few years as required;
  Return to the street,
  Her life to complete
Unencumbered by one she retired.
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