Today's timericks.

 

Biden asks for trillions more

to keep folks from growing poor,

and to spread the blest vaccine --

so I'll take a limousine

to the nearest CVS

to start spending his largesse.

Democrats in Congress, busy?

So much so it keeps them dizzy!

Arraigning Trump while backing Biden

makes their ulcers start to widen.

Republicans are more discreet --

but they will always drag their feet.

Curfew time in France is six

for Parisiennes and hicks.

This should stop the virus spreading,

but romance will need retreading --

sugar daddies home so early

will make mistresses quite surly.

Postcards.

 

(dedicated to Nathan Draper)

Does anyone mail postcards

on this plant-based protein plane --

anymore?

Or does the brain view scribbled notes

of memes with tired listless quotes

 hand-sorted like a bag of oats

as prehistoric shards?

I'd still like one, por favor.

 

For the Lord God giveth light unto the understanding.

 

Shedding light where darkness reigns,

breaking ignorance and chains;

comprehending brightness shines

from the Christ and his guidelines.

Scoffers find their beacons weak

when the Lord they will not seek.

Acting no hypocrisy and no deception.

 

The heart that is hollow/can never much follow/the kind invitation of Christ/When motives are narrow/concerned with one's marrow/then loyalty is thinly sliced/Lord, help me to settle/become a rose petal/in thy sweet garden anon/so, never divided/with you I have sided/to enter a glorious dawn.

The heart that is hollow/unable to follow/the teachings of God up above/without subtle quibble/will find but a dribble/of Heavenly Father's great love.

Photo Essay: This week's postcards mailed to President Elect Joe Biden.

 

Prose Poem: The Woman in the Roots

 

I saw the young woman in the roots

of a large tropical tree

during my last trip to 

the Marmalade Isles.

I fell in love with her.

Naturally.

I told her I loved her

but she only fled silently

into the jungle.

I pursued her, but got lost.

Naturally.

Some natives guided me back

to my hotel, 

where I used Face Recognition Technology

to identify my newly beloved

and went to her house.

Naturally.

I didn't ask for her; I asked 

for her parents.

Naturally.

That's how things are done

on the Marmalade Isles.

They invited me in for

camphor biscuits and hibiscus

tea.

We spoke of love and desire,

and the imminence of death.

I was old, she was young.

I gave them a bag of Krugerrands.

Naturally.

But their daughter only went

deeper into the roots of the

tropical trees, and I lost her

forever. 

I respected her decision.

But I did ask for the Krugerrands back.

Naturally.

Today's timericks.

 

Whenever I make curry/I make it kinda hot/in fact it is so spicy/it often melts the pot/Mixed with rice and fish sauce/it will not harm your throat/that is, if you've the innards/of any common goat.

"Capitol Riot Threatens Trump’s Already Hurting Business."  (WSJ)

When monkey bizness triumphs/over common sense/bizness owners find out/there's little recompense/Trump's plans have come a cropper/and soon he'll be a pauper/Now isn't that a whopper/despite all his pretense? 

Inaugurals are fraught with cheer/but not the one we have this year/To keep it safe and riot-free/there'll be extreme security/In fact, when Biden takes the pledge/he'll be surrounded by a hedge/of guards so thick you will not see/the Chief Exec entirely.

 

The lobster is a briny dish/unparalleled among the fish/or other critters in the sea/as apex of gastronomy/But whether turned to thermidor/or freshly served from tidal bore/my ancient stomach starts to thunder/when I eat it, way down under/Langoustine, I bid thee gone/else I'll be up until it's dawn . . . . 

Fools mock, but they shall mourn.

 

Fools mock, but they shall mourn

when their pride is left forlorn.

Built upon a rock secure,

the godly know they shall endure --

though not by merit or birthplace,

but only through the Savior's grace!

Today's Timericks.

 

When I get sick and doctors see/it isn't like what's on TV/No Marcus Welby pats my back/Of sexy nurses there's a lack/I'm sent from room to room until/receptionists present the bill/The next time I get sick I'll stay/at home and work on macrame.  

When you put your faith in fools/you become their willing tools/Demagogues take great delight/in fomenting fear and fight/Their followers who break the law/to chain gangs go in Arkansas/Patriots are not coerced/their common sense to keep submersed. 

I never lie at interviews for jobs and other things/My life's an open book, including all the warts and pings/A man who doesn't tell the truth when he is obligated/has his duty and his conscience certainly vacated/I cherish truth above all else, and keep it crystal clear/And that is why I haven't worked in many a long year.

Because of the praise of the world

 

A lust for the praise of the world

is one of the sins I must fight;

for glory and honor I yearn --

it is such a sad appetite!

It's better to quietly work

unrecognized and doing good

for strangers and fam'ly alike

around my own small neighborhood.