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Month: December 2021


A dope of fifteen junior years
Shoots up a school and kills
A bunch of kids who’ve nothing done
To satisfy his thrills.

So what’s a lawyer s’posed to do
But sue the school and staff?
Two hundred mil he’s asked in suits,
Of course it’s such a laugh.

The school and staff have no such funds,
The taxpayers will pay -
He’ll walk away with so much green
While the killer’s put away.

And now tornadoes ripped a path
Through every inch of earth
Destroying homes and businesses
Within their spinning girth.

So lawyers set in motion now
The suits a buck to seek
From businesses they claim were wrought
Inadequate, too weak.

How ‘bout this, just blame the ones
Whose deed have wreaked the deed?
Instead of raping citizens
To feed your endless greed?

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Never underestimate
The impact and the sword
Thrust by those whose interests lie
In purposes untoward.

An article by lesser minds
Comprised of lesser years,
Critiquing every boomer’s trait
To compensate their fears.

However one would catch my eye
Mocking typing’s choice -
Boomer’s using fingers born
To give their text a voice.

Apparently the digits chose
For typing on a phone
Make fodder for the younger set
To mock the aging crone.

Thumbs dispatched the preference for
This generation’s votes,
While boomers with their index touch
Demonstrate that they’re old goats.

So now I’ve undertaken steps
To remedy my style,
Currently I exercise 
My thumbs by test and trial.

To gain proficiency in text
Embrace the social plea 
So I might not be minimized
By Generation Z.
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They’ve started the analysis,
The media’s erudite;
Sifting through the artifacts
Of someone’s final night.

Drawn to all celebrity,
The newshounds found a friend,
When Chris Benoit, a wrestler,
Brought three lives to an end.

He strangled both his wife and kid,
Then messaged every friend
Instructing them to feed the pets;
A chore he’d usually tend.

Then he strolled into his gym
And found his way to die;
Equipment used to make him strong
His strength would soon deny.

Inserted then into the news,
Reporters gathered ‘round
The family home of Chris Benoit
Their theories to expound.

Was it the steroids that he took,
Did drinking play a part?
He beat his wife, his kid was shot;
Was evil in his heart?

They’re interviewing everyone
Who knew the wrestler’s name;
Doctors, lawyers, Indian chiefs,
To find someone blame.

Here’s a guy, in middle age,
Whose body’s so enhanced
By anabolic steroid shots
He’d pop if he were lanced.

He crawls around a wrestling ring
In underwear too tight,
Affecting every macho move
In manufactured fights.

Clearly wrestlers so employed
To ‘round the country work
The ranks of Wrestling Mania,
Are plagued by little quirks.

I’m thinkin’ that stability’s
Not needed for a job
That calls for you to roll around
In spandex with some slob.

Were signs ignored, did voices mute
A wrestler’s helpless cry?
A few more days they’ll poke around
And search for reasons why. 

All the while the answer lies
Upon the printed page -
The application for a job
Upon the wrestling stage. 
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On the precipice she stood
About to rise again and then,
Reaching for the stars she fell -
Oops, she’s done it once again.

Just when Anna’s been embalmed
And there’s an opening for a blonde,
Britney’s shorn her golden locks
Now Anna’s crown cannot be donned.

Anna’s place upon the stage,
Within the reach where Britney stood;
She had the hair and has the brains
A couple implants, she’d be good.

But alas, she’s made a choice
Derailing hope and losing face;
While dizzy blondes are always vogue
A blonde that’s bald is out of place.

So to the trailer she will go
Recoup her loss and underwear;
Her options nearly running out,
This average girl from anywhere.
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A Good Morning

Spectacular I’d have to say,
An accident that came my way;
Outside the doors of where I stay
A van and truck got in a fray.

I heard the squealin’ of a brake,
The tires cry and windows break;
The sickening sounds a wreck can make
Loud and clear, the toll they’d take.

A mini-van and refuse truck,
Together timed, ran out of luck.
Both had spun and now were stuck
On curbs apart from where they struck.

Confounded by the van she’d veered
Into the truck a man had steered,
Through the door the driver cleared,
A shaken lady soon appeared.

Toward the doorway fast I dash
To render aid to those that crash.
In the grass, the victims thrash;
Their morning ruined in a flash.

As if someone had stoled their toys
Into girls had turned the boys;
Groaning, moaning, making noise,
All remnants lost had they of poise.

Blood was spilling on the ground
As people gathered all around;
Gashes deep in bodies found,
No doubt they’d soon be doctor bound. 

Behind the door and at the street
My dog began to bark and bleat;
Always seeking food to eat,
Found the scent of fresh cut meat.

Fire trucks and cars with cops
Arrived with tools and guns and mops;
Medics giving shots and drops
Then onto gurneys each man plops.

Out the window, plain to see
A front yard filled with crash debris;
A better way there couldn’t be
To start a day in front of me.
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I’m runnin’ out of room to store
The thoughts within my head;
Every shelf and closet filled,
They’re stuffed beneath the bed.

It’s not that I’m not organized,
The shelves I clearly mark;
Rows and rows for every thought,
The good ones and the dark.

Through eyes and ears and touch and smell,
The tongue from tastes it delves,
Through the senses gathered thoughts
I’ve stored upon the shelves.

But every new sensation now
Replaces those I store;
Each new face and pristine place
Push others out the door.

I forget the names I know
When new ones I may learn;
And can’t remember where I’m at
Whichever way I turn.

Misplace the keys, my socks and shoes,
Forget to shut the door;
I say hello and mean goodbye
Want less when I need more.

It’s not that I am growing old,
It’s something else instead;
I think I simply know so much
I need a bigger head.
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I’m exhausted today,
I must have had fun
Though I can’t recall
A thing that I’ve done.

I’m tired and drained
And I struggle to rise
From the bed where I’ve been
To open my eyes.

I think the sun shone,
That the weather was nice,
But certain I’m not
There wasn’t some ice.

My time spent alone
In the great out of doors;
Or maybe inside
Moppin’ the floors.

I partied with friends
Or partied alone,
I must have had fun
This much is known:

My body is sluggish,
My brain’s in a fog,
When I speak to the cats
I croak like a frog.

I cannot believe
Two days have gone by,
Depleting resources
Without a clue why.

My memory’s muddled
With weekends of past;
Because, I suppose,
So many have passed.

One’s like the last,
The next like those passed;
Distinguished no more
The shadows they cast. 
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Flash your lights and honk your horn!
They want your car to run on corn.
Save the world from all the ill
Resulting from the oil we spill.

But there’s a price for everything
And quite a price this change will bring.
Like the rock thrown in a lake,
Ripples form and changes make.

Less corn to feed our pigs and cows
As more goes into cars and plows;
The cost of eating fine cuisine
Will rise as from the oil we wean.

Cows and pigs are fed the corn,
Along with sheep that then are shorn;
And each will cost a little more
To feed until they’re at the store.
Lesser crops will be discharged
As fields of corn will be enlarged;
Dedicate to corn what’s tilled
Until the farms with corn are filled.

The other crops in short supply,
More costly now to bake a pie.
Cocoa Puffs and Wonder Bread
Will cost you more to keep you fed.

Chops and steaks of beef and lamb
Will rise in price and so will Spam;
Sweaters made of woolen blend
Will cost you more to buy a friend.

Perhaps the biggest change of all
From oil to corn, as changes fall - 
Who’ll be left for us to fight
If oil demand were stopped tonight? 
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US Senate v Limbaugh

The Congress of our country dear
Has numbers even Bush would fear;
Approval ratings down below
The lowest low that Bush will go.

Every point they lose is earned,
Their relevancy clearly burned;
Posturing fools without a clue
To whom we all should bid adieu.

Soldier’s dying everyday,
A healthcare system in decay,
A mortgage crisis, deficits;
Addressing these, a bunch of twits.

Two days this week they spent in waste,
Denouncing adversaries faced;
The talking heads that deign oppose
The Senate’s views on radios.

Distorting what a talking head
Didn’t say but they say said,
Debated how to reprimand
The free speech spoke on AM’s band.

This cloud of fetid passing gas,
A resolution toothless pass;
It’s official, they don’t like
Conservatives with open mikes.

What a waste of time and space;
The whole of congress a disgrace.
Condemned free speech, his one offense,
While soldier’s died in its defense.
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The country’s quite conservative
Away from both its shores;
In the heartland people pray
And always do their chores.

In North Dakota, there’s a law
Forbidding couples dwell
Within the confines of a home
Without a wedding bell.

Thirty days in jail spend
A hefty fine you’ll pay,
Should you cohabitate a place
As hetero or gay. 

Six other states maintain these laws,
Florida leads the set;
Both Virginias, Michigan
And Mississippi yet.

But just this week they had a vote
To overturn and douse
This law based on morality
In North Dakota’s house.

Two prior sessions, such a vote
Failed to get it done,
But this time 48 said yes,
Against were 41.

Even in repealing it
The vote’s a testament,
To values quite traditional
And how far right they’re bent.

You’d never guess, when reading press
Or listening to the stars;
They’re out of touch with most of those
Who drive domestic cars. 
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