Another VC Grant Rant Presidential Pukery

Presidential Paltering

VC Grant

 

Please Please.

Ponder these phrases as

I pontificate at podium.

The Two Billion Dollar

pup and pony parade

perpetrated to

placate the peasant,

to pacify the poor

is nearing a finale.

Enough pleasantries

prolific promises and

pure palaver.

A perfect prediction,

our president will be

a pathetic plutocrat

rife with procrastination

with no care for nation.

Perhaps Palingenesis of the US

is the way to end this distress,

perhaps Pantisocracy.

Inspired by Gram

R. eally A.lready
By
I.M. Not Jimbo

Sometimes I look at my hands, fingers jutting from knuckle like branches from a corkscrew willow. As they bend like a rusty hinge that never saw the glory of 3 in 1.

I can’t help but think of Gram. Her hands and fingers so twisted and swollen that just the sight of them conjured a brilliant phantom of pain in my own green hands. Yet after nearly ninety decades she would still get down on her knees and yank those persistent weeds from the garden, an enemy that she could see a fight that she still could fight.

Her sore exhausted hips sounding off as firecrackers as she struggled to the ground. by then she was ripping out prized irises and other beautiful plants convinced they were weeds but nonetheless she still fought through the pain to do what she was driven to. I’ve been facing this, on and off for nearly thirty years. Only as this level has been reached can I begin to grasp the amount of pain that poor amazing woman must have felt. A feeling akin to someone drilling directly into my knees with the dullest of drill bits. Waking to realize that some bitter hobgoblin had individually pressed each digit to anvil and struck down with hammer as I fitfully slept. The click finally came, that aha moment.

My inspiration to fight is strengthened by several but none more so than that 5 feet of fight that could conquer nearly anything.

More of my Poems the Original


This is probably the first poem I ever wrote for someone. I was a shy fat kid and to this day she is still the coolest chick I have ever known. She helped me find myself at a very difficult time in my life. I have met very few people with that much heart. I’ll always be grateful for that. She may or may not be the inspiration for the “Raven” from some of the other poems. I guess there are some people you will meet in life that you just can’t forget no matter how hard you try. It’s kind of a shame she’ll probably never get to read any of it.

Joyfully Laughingly
Jim Scott

Strands of hair darker than night
Bright Brown orbs of brilliant light
Prettiest smile ever known
Seeds of friendship rightly sown

Jade shade of that flight
Razor shredded heart when we fight
Do anything at all I can
Always be your fan
Tales of vampires read with delight
Crash of pool balls hit by white
Visions of arms locked so tight
When it was time to say goodnight
I know that things right now are bad
Hope this doesn’t make you mad
I really just wish you weren’t so sad

My life is all turmoil and plight
meeting you made my world alright

This is bad and kind of cheesy, full of abstractions and bad rhyme. But I was about 17 or 18 and a high school dropout at the time. I wrote it to cheer up a very good friend of mine that was sad. Of course I never showed it to her. I swore I’d never let anyone see these but hey it’s a new dawn it’s a new day bla bla bla and I wrote it. Plus I was inspired to look at some of my old stuff. Unedited in all its glory. Lol Feel free to mock, flame or make fun, but remember when I read it I go back to being a thin-skinned sensitive teenager not much has changed in 17 or so years. LOL

Found another weak one from about ten years ago.

Just Point Less

By James R. Scott

More than five years have passed
\since I saw you last
\since you went to follow your dreams
\many years you’ve been gone
\many things seen and done
\but fear there are none that affect me like thee
\so on this day when I see you again
\and ask this and that about how you have been
\from the depths of my heart shall I plea
\let it not be so long til I can sing song
\of reunion for you and for me

A Poem or Two

Some poems from a lesser known poet that I really enjoy.

“How in the world could it be.
The most miserable in life.
Have seen the least strife.
And can’t even spell empathy.”
V.C. Grant

“Coumadin ”

V.C. Grant

Was Ernie right just open a vein,
He couldn’t escape the pain.
What is the price of a soul laid bare.
Is it worth any amount of fortune or fame.

Would a million cauterize crimson brilliance.
Afford a chance to once again dance,
Without problem or care.
Is he shackled to bitter circumstance.

Perhaps twould help to show despair
And shed one last tear, on bosom once held dear.
Is it even worth any chance.
For one who does not even care.

Perhaps the answer is to rejoin with those he did play.
The liars and thieves with hearts full of decay.
To reclaim pathetic indifferent stance.
And once again congregate with those who betray.

Shall he just return to his cave,
Or seek unfindable solace in nave.
Hidden away and left to decay.
A heart full of beauty, no one can save.

Adding some of my own poetry

I’m going to add some more of my poetry here. Some of it I’ve put on Facebook already. It’s more a hobby than anything.

A Poem I wrote

I wrote this for class and to get some things off my chest. It has gotten some pretty good responses.
Juxtaposition of Pleasure and Lament

I miss her

 

Juxtaposition of Pleasure and Lament
By
J.R. Scott

The raven returns to the city once rotten,
Seeking the one who’d thought she’d forgotten.
A Dozen had passed since raven departed,
Both feared the great reunion’d be thwarted.

The moment of truth when the call came,
Could it be true, they both felt the same.
As much as he battled, tears he did cry,
Just gazing at, that shade of tiger’s eye.

A feeling long forgotten or so he had thought,
An overwhelming instant of swoon he fought.
Amazing years later, emotions still strong
A final chance, to right severe wrong.

But once again timing was not with them,
That joyous moment turned into bedlam.
He was not the hero, that she remembered,
Years and the world, had left him battered.

Fear of locking her to a life less than deserved
The whole of the parts left him unnerved.
She tried to console him, and said he was her king.
He could not get past, the simplest of things.

So full of fear of holding her back,
For only a moment he was off track.
Had he stood and fought, stead of pushing away,
Perhaps a different tale, would be told today.

For that fair raven his heart has ever burned,
Each new encounter a painful lesson learned.
Yes Snow and Raven, hurt each other easy,
Yet he was her king, and she his Khaleesi.

The latest of battles left him severely wounded,
Memory disappeared quickly from his head.
But one distinct memory, he could not let go
The image of the raven, that he used to know.

From the heavens Raven was sent
All the tears shed, all well spent.
Oh dear fair Raven, such a stunning creature,
The depth of her heart, the most resounding feature

Oh indeed at times he does still weep
For Flawed perfection once in his reach
The fairest of maidens, he has since met,
Have been amazing, but none like her yet.

Accepting of the blame that kept them apart,
He pays his daily penance with dagger to heart.
For his misdeeds, forever cloaked in guilt,
his heart remains ensconced, in briar laden quilt.

He shall suck it up and leave it to fate,
And hope for forgiveness fore it’s too late.
In the moment, no choice left but move on
But deep within his heart, the fires still strong.

Oh there were others that touched him deeply
Beautiful freckles and smiles of “Spring beauty ”
The little Italian “Teacher,” and even “the rat”
The raven was his dearest, no question of that.

Oh the days when he questioned his own worth
Raven made him feel like the greatest on earth
The thought of her, and the songs that she sang
Bring toothy grin, with great twinge of pain

So if the winds should carry this to Ravens ear
Know that the Bastard forever holds her dear
As he fights his battles, and once again he’s won
Know that he’s still inspired, by his number one

Maybe in another life or even nother day.
Leave it to the Gods, all he can do is pray

Though when questioned, he’ll protest and deny hope.
He wishes her the best, and misses her the most

 

Ah the musings of J.R. Scott