Hole-ly Testament

Guns make “holes” in victims
Guns make “holes” in ground
One sounds Pop, Pop, Pop
The other is “shovel” sound
Guns have rifled barrels
Guns have steel tips
Often Guns leave families
Speaking with trembling lips
Guns were meant for killing
Guns were meant for fun
How many tombstones stand today?
Because of precious…Guns

The Nitty-Gritty of Pity

I am the Sorcerer…let me explain
With wave of my wand…all will feel pain
Crippled, Burnt, Disfigured, Diseased
For 24 hours the distress will not ease
We’ll all “walk a mile”…in another’s torn shoes
We’ll all spend a day…of paying woe’s dues
And when that day is over…I believe we’ll all see
A renewed concentration on the word…Empathy

Snootfull Fruitful

Trailer Trash meets Sour Mash
Big Screen…Pajama Queen
Six Kids…Chaotic Nest
Whole Dam Place…A Filthy Mess
Bubba Loses Job…Wife Can’t Read
She Soon Develops…”Nose Bleeds”
Ain’t No Way…To Live a Life
Bubba’s Chest…Meets Kitchen Knife
GOP Voters?...Well, I Guess!
Six More Kids…Flunking Tests
Planned Parenthood
Less

Hang Yourself ... With Your Own Hope

Duplicity and Congeniality
Oft’ walk hand in hand
The Flame of Insincerity
The Fires of Hope are Fanned
Egregious Ego stroking
Beguiling words do Capture
Meretricious crumbs of Joking
Bring Fears instead of Laughter
Duplicity and Congeniality
Symbiotic Confederates in Crime
Disingenuousness Personified
The tried and true “Pat on the Back”
Patronizing yet so Sublime

Sgt. Gonzalez Visits the Stetsonian

Folded uniform…Old friends
Cactus hills…Home again
Feeling thirsty…Dry ‘round here
Go downtown…Bend an ear
Pull a five…Tell barkeep clear
“Excuse me”…I’d like a beer”
Barkeep stares…Grabs my Five
Slams it down…Man alive!
I demand…What’s wrong with fin?
“Not the fin, son…
It’s the skin… you’re in

Play Within a Play

Amaranthine debate…foolish fellow
The fair Desdemona…dead in thy bed
Love’s wild ravings…applied by Othello
The green eyed monster…that is so oft’ fed

Is love razor sharp…as Bard asks us believe
Where the slightest nick…may so induce death
Or is Stratford’s son…engaged in deceive
Threads of prattle…to educe hushed breath

The Moor of yore…professed “he loved too well”
Yet nary a query…heft upon breath
Now has defined place… in erudite hell
His bride analogous…to ill-fated death

Othello maligned with dark, jaundiced eye?
Or Shakespearean elixir…dubbed cry?

Newsworthy

Whenever things are getting dull
In D.C. there may be a lull
As worthwhile topics keep on failin'
We can always count on Sarah Palin

Beck and Palin...Palin and Beck
Ideological, intellectual cosmic specks
Everyday news is like walking thru poo
Must we wallow in the waste of these two?