Supreme Hypocrisy

Hobby Lobby doesn’t want to pay for birth control.

They don’t feel their employees should have the right to choose.

Yet they were investing in the companies whose role

is making products that they feel that no one else should use!

How is it they profit from but don’t support Plan B,

or an IUD or Ella? They just want the dough!

What a grand display of sickening hypocrisy,

preaching but not practicing! The whole damned world should know.

Even pro-life sympathizers should be up in arms.

Now they know that Hobby Lobby’s not one after all.

Tell all of your friends and help us signal the alarms.

Then stand back and smile while you applaud as down they fall.

I am from the USA, where worship is a right,

not something that employers get to force upon their crew.

I hope that everyone who’s free will help support this fight,

and give the hypocrites the boycott for which they’re past due.

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I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major Side Effect

I am the very model of a modern major side effect.

I bring you many problems that could give your children birth defects.

I interfere with how the neural pathways in your brain connect.

I pile on top of other nasty health issues you now collect.

You don’t know if I’m symptoms of your illness or I’m indirect.

You’re worse than any time in recent history you recollect,

but need to take your medicine or your new organ you’ll reject …

so suffer through the problems that it’s caused that you cannot deflect.

If you don’t take meds everyday you’ll find you can’t get out of bed,

or possibly one day you’ll wake to find out you’re already dead!

In short, you’re feeling much worse than the last time that your doctor checked.

I am the very model of a modern major side effect.

There’s aches and pains, a bleeding stomach, restless legs that make you cry,

edema, headaches, rashes, weird behavior, or your eyes are dry,

strong allergies that make the muscles quiver in your upper thigh.

If you don’t swallow quickly it tastes like you have ingested lye.

You know if you don’t take it you have health on which you can’t rely.

Sometimes it’s so bad you decide today you will not even try.

You take the drugs but often when it’s bad, you cannot figure why …

with all these side effects, to medicine you’d like to say goodbye.

You hope that someday you’ll be well so you no longer feel this sick.

But once you discontinue your bad health returns so lightening quick!

In short, you’re feeling much worse than the last time that your doctor checked.

I am the very model of a modern major side effect.

Sometimes I cancel out the benefits, but you’ll put up with me.

You hear a buzzing in your ears that sounds just like a bumblebee.

To keep from falling down you’ll tolerate the shaking of your knee.

You’ll live with some results that mimic thrush or hepatitis B.

You pay a lot to feel this way. Your medicine is never free.

You’re real depressed ’cause this might be the healthiest you’ll ever be.

Your doctor says you’re doing well, though sometimes you may disagree …

and anyone who had these side effects would, but of course, agree.

I give you hunger so you’ll break your diet and gain lots of weight.

Your mirror shows you images you look at and then start to hate.

In short, you are much fatter than last time that your doctor checked.

I am the very model of a modern major side effect.

 By now you have diseases that were caused by taking medicine.

It makes you feel just like you fight a battle you can never win.

You want to heal, but with your problems you don’t know where to begin.

You wonder why you’ve been struck down, like you’ve been punished for a sin.

The time rolls on. These days you’re not sure how long it has really been.

You curse the situations that your illnesses have put you in.

It never ends, the cycle goes on, stealing every urge to grin …

the smile you try to fake in public each day’s wearing very thin.

You wish you had a choice but you can’t stop your meds or you’ll expire.

You need these stupid chemicals. Your situation’s rather dire.

But still, you’re feeling much worse than the last time that your doctor checked.

I am the very model of a modern major side effect.

Lyrics ©2014 Bridget Ayres

Set to Gilbert & Sullivan’s “I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major General”

–Public Domain–

Little Child

My little child, I’ve seen you grow so tall.

The top shelf is no match for you these days.

How times have changed from when you used to crawl!

You’re so mature  in oh so many ways.

You’re using words I have to look up now.

Your grasp of physics now surpasses mine.

You’ve learned, yourself; I need not show you how.

I wish I could reverse the march of time.

You’re old enough to make kids of your own.

Though, if you’ve listened, you won’t do it yet.

I bask in the good judgment that you’ve shown,

and hope the things I’ve taught, you won’t forget.

(And when you snap the photos that I’m in,

your height helps hide my horrid double chin!!!)

🙂

Ascendancy

Discounting its import, a grave mistake,

pretending sex won’t have impact like this;

it’s something you must tend to for the sake

of marriage and your precious wedded bliss.

If you don’t get along, you’re surely doomed,

a fundamental problem you can’t shirk.

The sex won’t be enough, as was assumed.

Both need much more to make the marriage work.

But even if you’ve roots so thick and strong,

as to remain so firmly set in place,

the problems will prevail when sex goes wrong,

and in the end, divorce is what you’ll face.

Good sex can’t save a sinking marriage ship.

Bad sex will tear an everlasting rip.

 

 

Adolescents

So, you want to be treated like adults?

Then you’d better start acting that way.

When I ask you just what you were thinking,

you have nothing (that’s lucid) to say.

“Can’t remember” because you’re “too tired?”

Then you’d better start getting some sleep,

’cause you’re going to need to think clearly ALL day

if this freedom is something you’ll keep!!!

“I forgot.” “I don’t know.” “I don’t get it.”

Well, then clearly, you’re not an adult.

Jamming your head so far up your own ass

is what yields, once again, this result.

Fool me just two times, and it’s shame on You.

But fool me three times, shame on Me.

Revoking your privileges only makes sense.

Ask again in a year and we’ll see.

 

 

 

 

To Me From You, Part II: My Favorite Machine

I am an engineer at heart, have been since I was small,

and nothing’s changed, it’s still the same, although I’m now quite tall.

I love to look within and see the way contraptions work,

to poke inside the mechanism, where its secrets lurk.

So I love learning all the parts inside that make you You.

I love to tighten properly your every bolt and screw.

I love your brainy gears that turned and made you fall for me,

all working in a way I trust, but never need to see.

All engines need to be maintained, or else they’ll fall apart.

I love to oil the valves and muscle tissues of your heart.

I love to groom my instrument and shine it up each day,

and brush the copper coils of hair your fine machine displays .

When I dismantle engine parts, I rebuild afterward.

It’s just a handy thing that I can do, ’cause I’m a nerd.

I wouldn’t want to tear your heart up. I’ll leave it intact,

the one machine whose parts I can’t replace once they have cracked.

I vow to keep you whole and give respect that you deserve,

to make sure that your love for me is something I preserve.

I’m sometimes asked which great machine I love to work on best,

which kind of  thing I’d give attention to more than the rest.

You are the best contraption one like me could ever want,

with gorgeous innards, outtards, perfect backside, top, and front.

No apparatus on this Earth intrigues me like you can,

my favorite implement to study since my world began,

for nothing’s like designing my own love affair with you,

 a work-in-progress, which, upon my death, shall not be through.

Euphonious

A symphony of word and breath and sound,

conducted by my lover’s vocal chords,

intangible, but fervently profound,

ephemeral, auricular rewards.

The oscillating sound waves reach my ears,

his exhalation warm, as is his heart,

as soon as I have heard, it disappears …

the impact will remain though we will part.

It comes to me whenever he’s away.

I close my eyes, pretend he’s here with me.

I’ve memorized, to in my head, replay

whenever he’s asleep or absentee.

There’s nothing in the world that’s quite the same

as how my precious lover calls my name.

 

adrenaline

heart racing

eyes red

throbbing center

throbbing head

toes curling

feet flexed

tension now

tension next

fists forming

blood boils

crippling fight

crippling toils

living raw

love burned

nothing gained

nothing learned

The B-Word

Young brother, now you’re talking, and you’re growing up so fast!

You haven’t been around to see what’s happened in the past.

I have some good advice I’d like to pass along to you.

It’s so you can avoid disasters Mom and I went through.

I’ll tell you right now, smarting off is not the way to go,

and lying will not work because she’s Mom, and she will know.

Just finish all your homework when your teacher gives you some,

and when it’s time for dinner and Mom calls you, wash and come.

But if you cannot handle it and mess up here or there,

the chances are, you’ll still recover. Mom is pretty fair.

And yet, there’s one mistake no kid could possibly afford:

no matter how you feel sometimes, DON’T EVER SAY YOU’RE BORED!

I promise when I’ve said it, I’ve regretted it all day.

I’ve wished so badly I could take it back, and go and play.

I swear all her suggestions when you say it are the worst!

So, carefully evaluate your other options first …

unless, that is, you’d rather clean your room and make your bed,

or organize your closet and your dresser drawers, instead.

Sometimes when I would say it, she would make me read a book,

by then, too late to say I’d give the TV one more look.

She also wants her garden raised so she won’t hurt her back …

which means it’s hard to move the dirt, and you‘ll pick up the slack.

She always needs the car cleaned out. She’s busy here, inside.

When her kids say they’re bored, Mom’s bag of horrors opens wide.

I cannot list all her solutions. I’ve lost track by now.

So fake a smile and wipe those grumpy frown-lines from your brow!

Just occupy yourself until it’s time to have a snack.

But keep in mind, if you’ve already slipped and can’t go back:

you’ll only make it worse if you should protest, pout, or whine.

So, learn from my mistakes, and you and Mom will do just fine.

Awakening

I’d like to say there’s anything I’d do,

no length to which I wouldn’t ever go,

no epic tale of woe I’d not go through,

no gesture graced with love that I’d not show.

I’ll rescue you from structures pitched with flames,

I’ll carry you at times when you can’t walk,

defend you when you when your foe unjustly blames,

and listen to you when you need to talk.

But I will not stand idly by and watch,

nor keep inside my words which bear the truth.

You’ve kicked your self-destruction up a notch;

no longer is this folly of your youth.

I’d die for you … that’s all I have to give.

But one thing I can’t do for you is live.

Poetaster

“A picture’s worth a thousand words.” I, too, believe that’s true.

I wish so badly I could paint or draw to capture you.

But I can’t draw or paint well, so I write some verse instead.

No matter how I try, so many details go unsaid.

In lieu of those, I’d use the plastic art forms if I could,

by sculpting you from clay or carving out your shape in wood,

thus catching all your nuances that still evade my song,

presenting your sweet curves I’ve been in love with for so long.

All those things above, beside, there’s still photography.

I never get the light right, though, so much one still can’t see.

They never do you justice, so it’s poetry I use.

I’ll try until I die to glorify my perfect muse.

 I’ve used a thousand words and I’ve repeated several times,

piling high upon my shelves those stacks of meager rhymes.

The proper thousand words to use stay trapped within my mind.

I hope, if I keep searching, that someday, those words I’ll find.

True Love

I love to be alone, just you and me.

You take me places I’ve not ever been.

You show me things I’d otherwise not see.

You never care what kind of mood I’m in.

You offer me your whole self, never less.

We do not play those lovers’ games or fight.

No matter how I feel, you ease my stress.

I want you in my bedroom every night.

I love the feel of you—your size and heft.

Your smell, alone, invokes the peace I need.

Sometimes I feel you’re all that I have left.

That’s why I make sure I have books to read.

You’re only more distinguished as you age.

I relish reading every single page.

Parallel

 I never said that I was more important than you are.

That’s just what your wild imagination chose to hear.

My explanations start, but you won’t let me get too far.

Please back off and let me talk. I’ll make my feelings clear.

I am no more special than another on this Earth.

That’s the first thing you should listen to and understand.

When it comes to others, I’d say I’ve an equal worth.

All I mean is that my trials and woes are just as grand.

With my plight dismissed I make a point to plead my case,

making it appear as though I think that I’m the best.

If I hadn’t had to struggle just to keep my place,

I’d remain here waiting for my turn, like all the rest.

Tabula Rasa

the debtor who’s avoided obligation comes to pay

finally the mist has cleared, evaporating fog

food caked on the dishes has dissolved and floats away

the collar engineered to shock’s been taken off the dog

the agitated whirlpools mellow into swirls, serene

the horse imbibes the water to which he’s been often led

past offenses all forgotten wipe the slate off, clean

freeing room to write another story there, instead

 

The Delay

The screeching of the tires defaced the air,

its echo blotting out the sun at first,

the crash that followed next a solar flare,

inflicting on its victims life at worst.

The acrobatic vehicle’s routine:

a horrifying double somersault,

no harnesses or god to intervene,

a graceful, irreversible assault.

Thick-skulled chimpanzees gripe; they will be late,

ungrateful they will live another day,

ignoring lessons offered them by fate,

presented in such glorious display.

I sit and count my blessings till it clears,

aware my own mortality yet nears.

The Immortal

she’s a living breathing organism pulsing

infinite stimuli always contributing

tidal waves melding harmonious convulsing

division of labor stresses distributing

the flock mentality fads cliques what’s hot today

follow the leader or maybe you become one

the vendor sets up his stall his goods on display

persisting till the horizon swallows the sun

the morphon ebbs and flows beholden to the moon

sleeping every night with one eye still open wide

repellent offerings moot the vibe changes soon

endless nesting dolls boundless potential inside

Indecorous

In certain situations … such as this …

no matter how portentous or austere,

the funeral of someone I will miss,

or moment that should fill my heart with fear,

I find that what I want to do is smile,

then burst into a violent giggle-fit,

the kind that sends me rolling in the aisle,

complete with tears and toots and flying spit.

I know that it is wrong, but I can’t stop.

I’m sure that I offend all within range–

this woman laughing so hard she might pop.

I know that my reaction must seem strange.

I’m sorry that your member made me laugh.

True justice could be served with merely half.

Unpolished

I saw you in the mirror just today.

You’d love the way the curls surround your face.

You wished you had my hair, you’d always say.

You do, your countenance now set in place.

 I came across an article last week.

A fascinating study had been done.

I quoted some statistics, like a geek;

your legacy is not to be outrun.

Engrossed in my beloved TV shows,

I’m caught off guard: I hear you laugh out loud,

for ev’ryday my laugh, more like yours, grows …

so many traits of yours I’ve been endowed.

Elusive still, your wisdom’s what I seek.

I haven’t quite yet mastered your technique.

 

 

 

I Had It Coming …

“Dear Mrs.,

     I am going,” said the note left by my couch.

“You suffocate me all day long. I’ve got to get away.

Throw pillows didn’t care to leave; for them I’ll no more vouch.

                                      Farewell,

                                           ~from your (old) Couch

P.S. I’ve something else to say.

Your sneakers up and left last week. They both made up their mind.

They feel so useless here, they’re gonna find some other feet.

You didn’t even notice. You just sit on your behind.

They waited till they had their chance and beat a fast retreat.

Your microwave is overworked. I’d watch out for him, too.

You’re stretching out your underwear. They hate it … so you know.

                                      And finally I leave you,

                                           ~Syonara! Bye! Adieu!

P.P.S. When  the others leave, just think: I told you so.”

Rain Dance

I love to spend my rainy days with you,

a good excuse to stay at home all day,

the freedom to do what we want to do.

Next time, there is a game I want to play.

I’ll drag you to the backyard and we’ll laugh.

Then, once we’re fully drenched, we’ll run inside.

We’ll grab a bottle, so we’ll each get half,

and lay down even though we’re neither dried.

We’ll both pretend we’re back in gay Paris

returning from our river dinner cruise,

so tickled our Parisian wine was free,

with soaking hair and soaking clothes and shoes …

then make love like we’re still in that hotel.

Instead, exhausted, fast asleep we fell.

possession

losing grip like an icicle melting in the sun

crashing down, striking man rather than hitting the ground

a surprise, the ancient asteroid, crack of a gun

splitting flesh, tearing what did not belong to him down

 havoc wreaked, spoiling ruins strewn about, a shipwreck

waning yelp, the lion mangled his voice with that roar

turning red, the scarf blazed an autograph on the neck

termination. absence of fodder for an encore

Opportunity

abandoning corporeal restraints

discovering your perfect chance to fly

no longer subject to the pain that taints

autonomy in infinite supply

absorbing new sensations full of ease

rejoicing as you’ll never fear again

unlocked now are the chains of your disease

no bleeding like a ruptured fountain pen

eluding facts of crime and war and hate

no challenge scaling rubble or steep scree

ascending high above embracing fate

examples you set writ on my marquis

all enemies are vanquished and dissolve

as far beyond mere humans you evolve

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