Angstless Rhymer

Old Twitter

2008-11-22T11:50:00.004-05:00

Growing old in the age of twitter,
makes one contemplate.
Is it for the young and fitter?
Must be why I gain weight.

Getting old produces much.
of what getting old'll do.
Aches all over, pain and such,
and joints just all askew.

Used all 10 digits all my days,
thoughts to paper sent.
Old Mavis Beacon's just a phase,
thumbs now for that intent.

Thumbs fly across a tiny screen,
at who knows what cyber speed.
My elbow hurts I want to scream,
drugs now, are what I need.

Today's Rhyme II

2008-11-20T23:19:00.008-05:00

pre PS..my blogs attempting to sell my land are:
http://valandforsale.blogspot.com/
http://valandforsale.wordpress.com/
PLEASE visit..cause I have to have so many
visits before I can be seen on ??? that is another
days chore!

Holy Cow! Heavens to Betsy!
The day's almost gone already
here it is for no one to see
my rhyme all wordy and heady.

Trying to sell land near Richmond
(when not running upstairs to pee)
took all day, every darn second
and the ROI did not pay out in glee.

I created two blogs, wordpress has pages!
Catagorblogs® denied it's too new
need to sell it and I don't have ages
my debt is trying to accrue.

If your looking for the cheapest land in the land
come hither have I a deal for you.
NO really it ain't swamp or sand
It's riverfront and it's got a view!

If Catagorblogs® won't do it for me
I am forced to serve my own self
spend my seconds tomorrow and plea
Catagorblogs® don't stick me on the shelf!

OOPS Greenspan is Sorry

2008-11-19T20:33:00.003-05:00

OOPS, Alan Greenspan said
as the world's economies crumbled
“I am erudite and well read,
it's Ayn Rand, the b**ch, who stumbled.”

A female Russian novelist
dead six plus twenty years
who knew she was a nihilist
well actually I did have my fears.

When greed is good, altruism bad
somethings amiss, are you dead?
We poor schmucks, we done been had
on the lawn is MY self made bed.

As homes go on the auction block
and tin cups arrive in a Lear.
I no longer have to watch the clock
as my job's being done in Zaire.

The outcomes now in Paulson's hand
perhaps he's more like plumber Joe
let's hope he's never heard of Rand
but watches Curly, and Shemp, and Moe.

Kill the Guru

2008-11-19T06:39:00.006-05:00

You know I bet, lets figure the odds
that I could produce a site
to tell you how to live, think, love
and you'd think I'm dead to right.

You the imperfect, me the sage
cause I tell you that's what I am
I possess knowledge of all time
regardless that I am a scam.

Pretty words all lined all in a row
obtuse is my tool of trade
Give me your trust and I will work
your psyche till it is out played.

Your e-mail address is all I need
to ply my magic on you.
get thinner, richer, become a god
join the realm of the very lucky few.

I can become a brazillionaire
this I know tis true
I read it my own self today
but only for me not for you.

Today's Rhyme

2008-11-19T01:36:00.001-05:00

No, I've not abandoned my post,
of rhyming to no one, not one.
Though I've found another host,
wordpress is harder but fun.

They've got .org and .com
I'm working on figerin it out
it ain't a salve or a balm
bein ignored is a very big doubt.

I got my blog, AHA I thought
the 21st century I entered.
Attention is what I really sought
being's as I am self centered.

Other sites have comments galore
even if not their own words.
I know rhymin's a great big bore
to an audience full of nerds.

See how that works, I already pissed
on ninety percent of the web
don't even think that I'd be missed
if I went and became dead.

Universal Children's Day, November 20th

2008-11-16T16:35:00.002-05:00

I always thought a parents job
exclusively would be
to raise a child of confidence
but not be just like me.

Abuse, I thought to Johnny'd
be, forcing him to rhyme
Until there came the internet
and changing of the time.

I've never seen, don't want to look
what's out there on the web
don't even want to visualize
some of what I've read.

Protecting children from all harm
not just a rhyme or sport
should fall upon all of the world
who come into this port.

Pornography is rampant now
a judge should I not be
but if a child is part of that
inside of prison you'll see.

I am NOT rhyming. I am NOT angstless.

2008-11-15T20:12:00.016-05:00

What I am is discombobulated. Yes it's a word, or at least my word processor does not know it is not a word. It knows angstless is not a word, why I have not added angstless to my .dic I have no idea?

Anyway.

You have read my rhymes about my blogging, well maybe you have not. Actually the chance that you DID read any of my rhymes is about one in a brazillion.

Anyway.

I checked my e-mail and saw I had a note from a fellow blogger so I clicked through. I'm still too new to this to know where I would end up when I hit that link, and I ended up at a place called Dashboard and there she was, laurelshah1, on my My Shoutbox. She said nice things about my blog!

Anyway.

I clicked on the link at her comment and ended up at her BlogCatalog and I see laurel's (I must say beautiful) picture and her profile. I clicked the back button to go back to my BlogCatalog no picture (beautiful or otherwise) no profile. I clicked hers back and she had no My Shoutbox, but had comments at the bottom. Well! Why is MINE so mundane and hers so wonderful?

Anyway.

While at her BlogCatalog, I scrolled down to her My Blogs clicked on the article under her name, which led me to CuteWriting, and read it, and I reminisced about a time when 10 hours seemed like a long time. I must say if, and I am not saying he doesn't, but, if Lenin does that daily, he should be a brazillionaire!

Anyway.

I don't have AOL so no handsome man's voice tells me I have mail (does he still do that? Has he aged?) so I am constantly refreshing my e-mail and though I had read this particular mail before I clicked on the unfamiliar name and clicked through. Lo and behold! I was right back at my BlogCatalog and the CuteWriting lady!

And Lenin can do all that in a day!

Anyway.

Befuddled is another word that can describe me.

The Cure for Agoraphobia

2008-11-14T21:00:00.002-05:00

No, it ain't water and it ain't heights
that makes me freaky scared
not fraid of locust nor of blights
it's folks what you'd think cared.

They look like you, some like me
just regalar, everyday joes
till bloggin that is, then you see
I discovered all my real foes.

It's Facebook here and Myspace there
it's up and download galore
I'm thinking of shopping sans the wear
rushing naked outside my door.

Sophisticates know all of this stuff
minds simple have a hard time
ladies put shame to billy goats gruff
my anatomy stuffed with rhyme.

Cold gray day comes close to close
another rhyme I've writ
though to one as poet......I pose
brazzions say just quit!

2008-11-13T22:41:00.001-05:00

Sarah's Runnin (fer somethin)

2008-11-13T22:40:00.014-05:00

Who won the vote I'm so confused
my noggin it's a reelin.
Did John win, I thought he losed
all I see now is Palin

Could not see her on teevee
sans her shuck and jive.
Oh, there's Charles and Katee
they counted that as five.

Betcha'd think the winner'd be
more often on the telly.
OutFoxed again gosh, golly, gee
and Trig upon the belly.

Wolf and moose together lay
tucked safe into the snow
and get to live another day
how they would vote-I know.

Who really is the pres-elect
ain't Hillary for sure.
My brain did think I did select
but...........
was my vote secure?

Bloggins

2008-11-13T10:38:00.002-05:00

Blogging ain't the fun I thunk
when setting up my site
I kinda sorta thought I knew
that each day I would write.

With eyes or'e shoulder, voices loud
and teevee blaring news
no need to wonder where it went
my ever rhyming muse.

One stanza, two if could pen
I've done it once or twice
instead of run on verse I scribe
it surely would be nice.

Wondering now if I could put
all I've scrawled today
into one simple lilting rhyme
let's see here what I'd say:

Blogging words with blaring noise
Prying eyes and wordy choice
Muse arrives then I rejoice
Petard appears then so I hoist.

Can I plez haz a bailout?

2008-11-11T23:16:00.003-05:00

The poor, the poor-the poor who knew
the power in their hands
a loan, a raise, the dollars few
brought down the mighty lands.

The rich left begging for their alms
the mighty at the helm
even shade from royal palms
couldn't save the gated realm.

A bail! a bail! a bucket full
of cash from pockets few
into treasures of the dull
the greenbacks freely flew.

Paulson was and Paulson is
a banker much like Potter
Bailey dies or Bailey lives
OUR Clarence sure will totter.

If only I could be a bank
the riches I would ponder
from the taxpayer I would yank
money just to squander.

WHEN MAN PLAYS GOD

2008-11-11T11:36:00.001-05:00

From the ooze of the primordial sea
came food & gold & values & me.

The atmosphere was thick with elements rare,
but the feeling of life was in the air.

The setting was created for man's success-
creationists can fill you in on the rest.

We roamed the planet in search of food
A most valued commodity, if you would.

We then settled and raised our own nourishment
now, for our land we killed, if it was meant.

With need for food and shelter well-taken care,
beyond the confines of the farm the brave did dare.

To view the beauty of the world did not suffice,
but to possess that which glitters has its price.

Our values went from food to farm to gold and beyond,
evolutionized by us through the eon.

Green paper is the new species created by man,
the only one whose existence creates its own demand.

And for its possession we're willing to destroy all,
but wait, perhaps the ooze has had a recall.

For as the atmosphere grows thick with elements rare
and life struggles in diminishing air.

The setting’s created for green paper's success
and since money can talk it'll tell you the rest.

My medium

2008-11-11T11:26:00.000-05:00

Why is it I like to rhyme?
Sometimes I do it all the time.

Each sentence must rhyme with the last
each thought is thusly cast
how much longer can this last?

Rhyming imposes its insistence
upon my very existence.

No thought is ever replete
unless it can compete
with the last rhyme I complete.

How silly would I look
if I spoke instead of wrote

the rhymes that plagued inside my head,
and spewed forth through my very dread
how I would wish that I was dead.

I thank my God each time I write
that He did not in spite
this medium remove from me,
light rhyme known as poetry.

"Knowledge"

2008-11-11T11:22:00.000-05:00

I have all my days knowledge sought
with nar’ a glimpse at wisdom.
Knowledge can, after all, be bought
and its cost not at all burdensome.

A wise person could look like anyone.
An educated one more distinct.
A wise one spends much time alone-
an underdeveloped social instinct.

And has not knowledge created its own
monuments to the skill of the learned.
I've seen the glow of the Santa Anna dome,
and, oh! the money such creations earned.

What, may I ask, do the wise have to show
for their reign this past millennium?
It's God, not they, who makes things grow,
and He'll protect us from spent plutonium.

Those who seek wisdom for wisdom's sake
have a difficult time I'll assure.
For truth is something that's hard to fake
and once out impossible to secure.

And could not I, with this knowledge gained
convince those foolhardy folks
(though all the while they are being feigned)
Knowledge becomes Wisdom when it molts?

IN STYLE

2008-11-11T11:19:00.003-05:00

Oh the fashions that proliferate
from the media to you and to me.
If only the price I could negotiate
I'd be as regaled as a Christmas-time tree.
.
The velvets of winter so soft and plush
are needed for warmth, to be sure.
Let's ignore the freezing rains and slush.
Think of unmelting snowflakes so pure.
.
The colors of spring can counterfeit
all the flowers in a wild meadow lea.
Purchase a matching parfume scent
and never mind the mosquito and the bee.
.
As cool white cottons and linens abound
in the heat of the summertime haze,
if you do perspire you daren't sit down--
drink your Julep but abandon the chaise.
.
The browns and bronzes of autumn time
are such a sensuous optical treat.
But don't have the forest at your behind
while attempting to cross the street.
.
Each weather front carries with it my fear.
Not of tempest, torrent, nor gust
Tis the tally of the store cashier -
and the cost of being merely august!

TIME SPENT

2008-11-11T11:16:00.001-05:00

Who lends time I ask you please
to care for what a woman must.
Her boss, child, friends she must appease
then give in to her husband's lust.

First to ready each one for the day
then her own self she must gather
off to work for little pay
though there's much she'd do rather.

Her boss expects her time be spent
on work all of the day.
So o're the paperwork she is bent
as time just slips away.

Her friend she meets and spends the time
just whiling lunch away.
Sometimes she wonders where is mine
when will this spending pay?

Home again as nourisher
the diner she's begun
So little time spent just for her
she feels she'll come undone.

She now readies each for the night
and is glad the day's almost over
into bed she tucks each child tight
then turns into the rapacious lover.

If time were money would she spend
each second as if gold.
Or would she, as with time, lend
for a return of merely old?

Drinker's Lament

2008-11-11T11:11:00.002-05:00

(perform excitedly)

Drink and drink and drink some more
when this is gone we'll go to the store.
Let's shout and yell and play music too loud!
We'll make fools of ourselves-we ain't proud!
Lets dance and party free and drunk
Let's revel with glee, get drunk as a skunk!
Let's paint the town, let's party hardy!
Get that lampshade-be the life of the party.
Drink whiskey and wine - Drink beer and more!
When this is gone we'll go to the store.

(perform wearily)

Our money is low, our wits have diminished.
I ain't drinking no more-after this I'm finished.
Please, please stop this bed from spinning
The battle from nausea I ain't winning.
I got to sleep, I got to work in the morning.
I don't believe I was actually THAT boring.
I hate to drink it makes me crazy,
It makes me stupid, it makes me lazy.
I do things over which I have no control.
It's like some demon posses my soul.
How could I be so dumb as to drink,
How could I know how far I could sink.
I swear that once this headache stops
I ain't never going to touch another drop!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Repeat from beginning)

October Sessions

2008-11-11T11:06:00.000-05:00

Doom & decline
children to devour!
Oh! Beware the bewitching hour!

Dungeons & chains
the wretched to lower!
Oh! Beware the allure to glower!

The old & hobbled
no problem, our!
Oh! Beware the bewitching hour!

The earth a lamb
for slaughter’s dower!
Oh! Beware the appeal to scour!

Altars of sacrifice
for ominous power!
Oh! Beware the bewitching hour!

Asses & pachyderms
in covens cower!
Oh! Beware the enchanted dour!

Congress in session
in heathen bower!
Ah! Begins the bewitching hour!

ODE TO MEN

2008-11-11T11:03:00.000-05:00

Kitty Boo, my mom once said to me,
you can be anything you want to be.

This idea followed me through life,
never knowing it could bring such strife.

I discovered you at a very young age
you became the audience for my stage.

Quietly I contemplated what to be
based solely upon your response to me.

First I discovered what you wanted in bed
then I found other ways to satisfy your head.

If you want someone silly and fun,
come with me we can play and run.

But if you prefer one who's gracious and quiet,
I'll mutely stir up a gourmet diet.

If sex and passion is what you're about
of my ability to please I have no doubt.

If the independent intellectual be your choice
I can put a Radcliffe accent in my voice.

Little girls think “actress is what I'll be”
but there's no ‘off stage’ when it's your reality.

Of what to be I had made my decision.
Of what I had become I had no vision.

Soft and southern or strong as an ox
just put in your request at the ticket box.

MY DUCK HUNTER

2008-11-11T11:00:00.002-05:00

THE MAN I LOVE LOVES DUCKS, YOU SEE.

HE HUNTS THEM AND SHOOTS THEM WHEN HE CAN.

ON HIS WALLS YOU'LL FIND NO PICTURES OF ME,
BUT BLINDS & DUCKS AND BLINDS & DUCKS AND DUCKS DO FILL THE SPAN.

SUCH A GENTLEMAN CONTRIBUTES TO THEIR CONSERVATION.

HIS TITHE IS TO THE WILDLIFE FUND.

BUT NO DEAD DUCKS CAUSES SUCH CONSTERNATION,
HE FEELS HE'S ENTITLED TO A FULL REFUND.

THE COLD AND THE RAIN DON'T DAMPEN HIS SPIRITS.

UPON HOURS HE SITS IN HIS BLIND.

THE COLD HE RETURNS WITH IS TREATED WITH SYRUPS,
THE DUCKS HE LEAVES SAFELY BEHIND.

The Cats Meow

2008-11-11T10:56:00.000-05:00

I saw myself at 63
with cats all surrounding me.
At 40 my cats number only 3
which comprise 2 shes and but 1 he.

If I don't have him negated
I'll find myself castigated.
I'll quickly have him castrated.

For when shes go into heat
Oh! how he desires to mate.
Another set of cats they'll make
If only he could penetrate.

Now that I an 43
there are but 12 cats around me.
My vision was a falsity.

I do not have the time nor cash
to have all their balls smashed
into innocuous mash.
I therefore must think fast.

For now that I am 50 plus
I see everywhere puss.
There's no reason to fuss.

So what if at 60 or more
cats carpet my floor
perhaps my life would have been a bore.
I run a cat house but not 1 whore!

The answer now is a rocking chair
the nearness of which they don't dare
cause I will surely tear
their tails from their derriere.

The Angstless Rhymer

2008-11-11T10:52:00.001-05:00

Woe is me, how could this be?
a poetess sans tragedy.
The pain of youth long since past
leaving not a twinge of angst.
What can I offer - a world in pain-
a simple lilting rhyme refrain?

The poor, perhaps, I can uplift
Rhyme wrapped as a gift.
Denounce the power of suppression
expose taxation as regression.
No, angst is their daily bread
Nevermind the aforesaid.

A woman, perchance, needs my rhyme
To disclose the paradigm.
Rebuke the blame and condemnation-
-her burden for mankind’s damnation.
Oh! But of course to man she’s wed
Nevermind the aforesaid.

Ah! Lovers in the throws of passion
would save a rhyme from the ash can.
Extol the pleasure of new found love
If only I had memories of.
Oh! Well, they spend their time abed
Nevermind the aforesaid.

A captive audience is what I need
whose egress I must impede.
Suppose prisoners on a rhyme diet
would shortly riot?
Death row inmates wishing they were dead!
Nevermind the aforesaid.

Woe is me, how could this be?
A poetess sans tragedy
Why not youth extend its reach?
Why must wisdom always teach?
Leaving but a shell of pain
And a lilting rhyme refrain?