The hatchet

A gag in this mouth evokes aversion

the sheepish attitude

the fringe of the cloth

the repugnant claim

a smudge in the cloth

the wary dog for the intruders

stagger after the beer

and fall with it

the nonsense of a brawl

the corporal of the army

is not a scent from a dunghill

it is a hatchet to stir it

the beseech of exhilaration

the bigotry, the prejudice the discrimination and the racism

phony and vile

the strong carve the wood

not afar from calling them sham

the speck of copper

and the rider dismounted the horse next to the boot in the eventide

he scrubs the trouser

a clump of willows

can withstand the parched conditions

people puffing cigarettes in the lush

the boosterism is not a dreary thing

the marmots furry tail is not sprinkled

The feat

The bailiff involved in the skirmish

the plaintiff concealed the guilt

and the draftee looking blankly

placated his decision to join the army

mulling over it for days

students strode to the vineyard during the recess

the probe landed on the dark side of the moon

the engineers with scowls were checking clutches

and were telltaling the feat to each other with chuckles.

Chequered life

The cartons and the styrofoam

left on the beaches

birds fluttering over the sea

the rumble of the clouds

the transient rain that could fill thousands jugs with water

dread and apprehensive

over the hourglass reciting the story of the man from the sea

insatiable, whooping, hollering to the roustabouts

stew or lentils as a dish?

is there a commune anywhere anytime real?

indignant to those who don’t understand pollution

those who smatter and josh, who do indiscretions

who are not solemn

is it going to be a chequered flag in life anytime soon?

a success perhaps?

perspiring in a savour of glint and a glare because of the ability to help others.

The mantel

Wadded papers and mildew plants

a chatter in the stampede

brawl and fiddle of documents

a clout to the bleary eyed thug

the swagger’s walk

privy the secrecy of the monarch

standing next to the mantel

the atrium in posh and opulent

is like a lode of gold

The oil spill

The tort of the oil spill

litigation of the polluters

circuitously polemics

despised victims in unison

the barge that sunk

faux outsiders

hankering for a platter

the prejudice of the honcho

trying to find the rogue.

The revamp

The woman caught the lapel

and rustled to the loitering man

his brim without complexion

within this fug

while his eyes being meekly

he budged with levity in the lucid sky

the crates under the willows

and the feeble dog

following by stepping

its paws in the bushed sod

the pristine tramp

embezzling the money

with a reviled fight

the culprit on one side

and the scapegoat on the other

the facsimile of detractors

creating aversion

a lull reaped

and a revamp becoming outmoded straight

the paupers hankering

ingrained in belligerent acts

The gorge

The subdue of success

the rugless statue

and the purring of a cat

posthumously found without property

the brindle dog in the hearth of fire

the gazing of other people

and the hurling of grins to unknown

flaked off by the sun,

prying the damage to the environment

tackle the polluters

nibble the time of the futiles

the pang speech

lance the words of wisdom

the buggy fannels

the ominous times and the wriggling growls

staggering limply and smothering the woes

shrugging in dismal over the gorge

seeing the sprouts down the river

The robbery

A simpleton and spurious man was bereft and scathed

the award was a pittance

and an incipient of a new effort

the aversion and the loathe was too big

far away from revered

whereas the yearn was coming

he was subverted and he was withered

whereas the squirearchy was laughing

in a facetiousness way

The endless party of Christmas

Thriving over every bad

looking synonyms for sad

sorrow, doleful, and the radio is of songs full

how can I not be good?

how can I not be happy?

It doesn’t matter the size of the party around you

because it is Christmas

we don’t rely on politicians, or companies or anything materialistic

we dedicate the time to something holly above all

to a spirit that no one can touch or distract

it is funny to tune into it

and how many stars how many famous people

don’t take it wrong, they just fill the party

solitude, how can it be?

in the internet era with so much contact

that makes you wonder

am I alone or with hundred views?

Christmas make you forget all unavailing

because Christmas are prevailing

and even stars and famous 

making silly jokes about turkey

which seem not serious

but we need them as a lesson of happiness

because it is Christmas

it has tot be a laugh.  


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