Trip to Nowhere
The bus stood still in the cul-de-sac,
He knew it had come for him,
For the colours of day were beginning to fade
And the nights had been closing in,
He'd not been bad, as in 'terrible bad'
Was less than a good man, true!
But the bus stood still in the cul-de-sac
With the legend - 'Coming for YOU! '
He waited there by the myrtle hedge
Then he heard the motor catch,
The driver, he was a terrible man
With a cloak and a hood to match,
He stopped the bus with a squeal of brakes
As the doors had folded in,
And rasped, 'Hey Carcass, clamber aboard
Let the ride of your life begin! '
The passengers sat there two by two
All grey in the fading light,
Not one had looked at another in there
In the gloom of their present plight.
They passed the cemetery walls at dusk,
Slowed down, then drove right in,
And sank right under the ground just there
At a stop called - 'THE SEVENTH SIN! '
A sign outside said 'Vanity',
Another sign said 'Lust',
Most of the passengers got off there
And promptly turned to dust!
The driver laughed in the back of his throat
And thrust the bus in gear:
'We'll find a stop that will suit you more
If it takes to the end of the year! '
A host got off at 'Gluttony',
Another few at 'Greed',
Most of the rest at 'Envy' left
Who'd wanted more than their need.
That left but two of them seated there
On the bus that was bound for Hell,
The other guy blanched when they got to 'Sloth',
Reached up, and tinkled the bell.
Then just the one who'd clambered aboard
Was left with a stop to go,
He clutched a briefcase under his arm,
And yelled, 'You drive too slow! '
The driver growled, and planted his foot,
On the bus that carried the dead,
'Don't mess with me, ' said the passenger,
'I've a deadline, straight ahead! '
The bus pulled up at the 'Anger' stop,
The driver had turned and grinned,
As the passenger paused on the outer step
He said, 'You'll see, my friend...
You'd better pick up your pension now,
Your future's in grave doubt...'
And he stepped on down at the final stop
As the flames rose round and about.
The Devil stood by the Welcome Mat,
All horns and tail, at his best,
Was dressed in his charming goat-hair suit
To greet his important guest.
The passenger opened his briefcase then,
Pulled papers out, and a pen,
'Just sign at the bottom, you hairy goat,
Then you can be gone again! '
The Devil spluttered, 'I rule this roost,
I'm sending you into the fire! '
The passenger curled his lip, said this
Was a Hostile Take-over!
'They listed you up on the Stock Exchange,
And we had sufficient clout,
There's rules, you know, of Monopolies,
And you've just been voted out.'
The sulphurous lake of fire went out,
And steam rose up in the dark,
'This set-up is so old-fashioned now,
We're breaking it all apart.
We've sold off 'Greed' to the Barristers,
And 'Gluttony' to Big Mac,
While 'Envy's' gone to the smaller Banks,
They know what to do with that! '
The Devil's tail had drooped at that,
'What is there left for me? '
'We're not inhuman, ' the passenger said,
'The shareholders agreed...
They left you in charge of 'Anger' so
You can still rage up and down,
But you'll have to start wearing a business suit
If you're planning to come to town.'
The Devil sits at his city desk
And chews at the end of his pen,
He hasn't written so many complaints
Since God and the Lord knows when,
While over the street is the enemy,
'Gas Fires and Kitchen Sinks',
The Corporation that brought him down
Now known as 'Hellfire Inc.'
20 June 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Passenger Side
Hey, wake up, your eyes weren't open wide
For the last couple of miles you've been swerving from side to side
You're gonna make me spill my beer,
If you don't learn how to steer
Passenger side, passenger side,
I don't like riding on the passenger side
Roll another number for the road
You're the only sober person I know
Won't you let me make you a deal,
Just get behind the wheel
Passenger side, passenger side,
I don't like riding on the passenger side
Should've been the driver, could've been the one
I should've been your lover, but I hadn't seen...
Can you take me to the store, then the bank?
I've got five dollars we can put in the tank
I've got a court date coming this June
I'll be driving soon
Passenger side, passenger side,
I don't like riding on the passenger side
I don't like riding on the passenger side
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Cab Driver
Mr Cab Driver won't you stop to let me in
Mr Cab Driver don't like my kind of skin
Mr Cab Driver you're never gonna win
Mr Cab Driver won't you stop to pick me up
Mr Cab Driver I might need some help
Mr Cab Driver only thinks about himself
Here we go
Mr Cab Driver
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bus Driver and Bella
Bella used to catch the bus from church gate;
Everyday took same bus which was never late.
Not to miss Bella, driver always reached in time;
Reaching office daily in time, Bella also felt fine.
On seeing her, the driver opened the front door,
She stepped forward smilingly and used to board.
He started feeling joy in heart, never felt before
Cherished in his soul, towards her he was lured.
Whenever not seen her, the driver became sad,
Moved slowly with grave soul feeling the day bad.
Suddenly she stopped coming but he held his time
Reaching the bus stop chanting her names’ rhyme.
When the bus was about to reach that bus stop,
The driver used to see all around but Bella was not.
After a long, Bella was seen standing near the stop
Driver delighted and thought for few words swop.
Driver at once opened front door, asked her to rush.
She too thrown sight and smiled; turned towards bus.
To surprise Bella kept outside and looking at him told
That she had got a car standing near that billboard.
She was waiting for her husband who was nearby,
She wanted perfume for car, he had gone to buy.
They got married a month ago, she was on vacation
Driver put his foot to give bus maximum acceleration.
S.D. Tiwari
email [email protected]
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Girl From Nowhere
The electric blue of a lightning sky
lit up the country lane momentarily.
She walked alone
with her scarf blowing in the wind
and her clothes soaked from the light rain.
But who was she and where was she?
She did not know.
Her eyes scanned everything
looking for something she recognised.
There was nothing there and she kept walking.
A crack of thunder startled her.
She jumped and looked around.
Lights of a car lit up the hedgerows
as it raced towards her.
She moved to one side
to allow it to pass.
The driver braked abruptly
along side of her.
The passenger window
wound itself down.
The driver smiled
out from the interior of the car.
“Are you all right miss? ”
The voice was low and warm.
She felt immediately
that she could trust it.
She looked in with large innocent eyes.
“Can you help me?
I cannot remember who I am or where I am.
The passenger door swung open.
“I think you had better get in.”
Cautiously she moved towards the car.
She climbed onto the passenger seat
and closed the door.
She glanced across
at her Good Samaritan.
“Thank you.” She whispered
as the car purred and moved forwards.
“There is a Police Station
about five miles ahead.
I will take you there;
they should be able to help you.”
She looked at him
as the car raced through
the quickly darkening lane.
“Haven’t you got a handbag? ”
He asked glancing across at her.
“Handbag? What is that? ”
“Where you keep your personal possessions in.”
She looked at him with a questioning look;
it was as if he was talking a strange language.
“My name is Jim Middleton.”
He said in his low warm voice.
She looked at him again
as the hedge rows disappeared
and streetlights and buildings
began to appear.
Scattered at first,
then more and more
as they moved into the town.
He stopped outside the Police Station.
He smiled. “We are here.”
Switching off the engine, he opened the door
and walked around the car.
He opened the door
to escort her into the station.
He stood mouth opened.
She was not there.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bussing Blues (Fun Poem 56)
I caught a bus and bought a ticket
to the end of the route.
As I bought the ticket,
the driver asked
if I was going all the way.
I said I was
as cheerful as can be.
Great can you show me where to go,
as I’ve never driven this route before?
Gladly I said and showed him the way.
Now some might find that funny
a passenger helping the bus driver
to which way he should take.
The truth of the matter this really did happen
as I went home today
and that passenger that helped him was me.
24 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Highway of life
From the moment you are born you are totally unaware
That you are driving on a highway of life, nobody knows where
On a highway of life there is no sign
To show who's responsible for its design
There are only two rules, that I enforce
You cannot stop, you cannot drive in reverse
Drinking and driving make your speed to increase
On the highway of life there is no police
Driving fast is fun and all
You shall never be late to your own funeral
I may have to correct what I said before
You are not a driver and therefore
As a passenger you have even less control
Less desire and insensitive to achieve my goal
To achieve first goal is to become aware
That the highway of life is a road to nowhere
A question like this would often arise
If I achieved the goal, where is my prize?
The goals are fuzzy, the end's not in sight
For as long as you can just enjoy the ride!
The next step is even more crazy
You have to rip the cord and make an exit
If you did well your homework
Accept my congratulations, I will stop the clock
You can go back, you can have some rest
Time no longer exist… You have passed the test!
poem by Slava Olchevski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Night Train
Transcribed by ed luskey
Last night sorta got so insane,
As I went ridin on the all night train.
Took it down the street and around the block,
Took it downtown baby where the big boys rock.
Roll on, roll on,
Take me where I can ease my pain.
Preacher say boy now where you been?
Getting lead in my pockets,
Putting money in sin.
When the mornin comes not a nickel to my name,
Threw it all away on the all night train.
Ride, let the passenger ride.
Ride, let the passenger ride.
I woke up late yesterday afternoon,
My eyeballs feeling like two balloons.
The doctor say things aint never gonna change,
Till you stop riding that all night train.
Ride, let the passenger ride.
Ride, let the passenger ride.
Took a little trip to keep from going insane,
Spent the rest of my life on the all night train.
All night train.
All night train.
All night train.
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where the journey of life really goes
My blue honda motorbike
with a full tank of fuel
is broken
and is being repaired
and while I count my money
I see that I have enough,
but for the last journey
of the week
and I wonder how
I am going to be able
to take that ride?
At the bus stop a car guard
is watching cars
and a black woman
that needs five rand for a ticket
and is dressed elegantly
in a red work suit,
gets the money from him
and he doesn’t even know her
or wants anything in return
and its weird seeing a near beggar
giving to the prosperous.
a Bus without any sign of destination
stops in front of me
and I wonder where
this bus is going?
I cannot stay standing
at the bus stop
and I know that I must travel
on this bus.
When I get aboard
the bus looks right
and there are other people,
that I know
that also rides on it.
I tell my destination
to the driver and pay
and he gives
a ticket to me.
When I ask to where
the bus is really going,
he wants to know
to where life’s journey really goes
and my money
is placed back in my hand.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Safe Drive
The capability of a driver is depending
Whether the passenger is feeling safe or not
Even though the driver is driving carelessly
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Life's Like A Train-journey
Life's a train journey; God's the driver;
We're off to a place called Eternity;
Disembarking's left to each passenger;
From birth till death, We choose any city.
This train is safe to travel till the end;
We should not put our head and limbs outside;
No matter through tunnel or acute bend,
The journey's certainly a jolly ride.
The speed of train is left for one to choose;
The conditions of travel's left to each;
'Tis left to each to sleep, watch, work or booze;
God's City is within anyone's reach.
The rail is safe; so is the engine too;
To reach God's place, depends only on you.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cornishman
The train pulled away from the station,
The driver grinned up at the box,
The signalman glowered at the driver's face
As he slotted the lever across,
The train slid easily through the points
As it blew three whistle blasts,
One for the train, one for the box,
And one for Miss Caroline Glass.
Caroline waved him a cheery farewell
From the cottage she owned on the bank,
She'd once been engaged to the signalman,
But now she'd moved up a rank.
'A driver is such an important man, '
She'd said to her former beau,
'He holds all those lives in his hands when he drives,
And he crosses the country, so.'
'But you - you stand in this signal box,
Pull levers, and ring little bells,
I'd rather be out on the railway track
With the steam blowing over the vales! '
And so it was, there, in the pub one night,
While enjoying the Olde Tyme Dance,
The driver cut in, and he whirled her around
As the signalman watched, askance.
'I'm going to be driving The Cornishman, '
The driver had told her then,
'It's really an honour, the Cornwall Express,
Come down, and I'll show you around.
The coaches are really the latest type,
With cushions, and bright as the sun…'
So Caroline gave back her ring that night,
Then shrugged - said: 'It's been fun! '
The signalman brooded, and wept at night,
To think of his Caroline Glass
Alone in the arms of the driver, Ben,
While he sat alone in the house.
He vowed revenge, but he didn't know
How ever he'd win her back,
She never would look at the signal box
While the train was down on the track.
He watched her boarding The Cornishman
First Class, to travel for free,
At the end of the trip, in a cheap hotel…
The signalman thought he could see,
Just what they would do at the end of the line
And his forehead grew lined and grim,
He nearly went mad at the thought of her
Alone in a bed, with him.
The weeks went by as he shifted points
And pulled at the levers yet,
He heard how the couple were now engaged
And the wedding date was set,
In three short weeks they would tie the knot,
She'd be lost to him for good,
He worked in a fever of misery,
And often wept where he stood.
He crept right up to her cottage light
When The Cornishman was away,
He hoped she'd show him some true remorse,
And ask him, then, to stay;
She laughed, 'Don't come like a creeping dog,
Just say what you have to say…'
He took one look at her curling lip,
Then turned, and slunk away.
'The train had sat in the station, set
To wait 'til the signal changed,
The signalman paced back and forth
In the box, like one deranged,
He stared on down at the driver, Ben,
Who looked back up, and laughed,
His fireman shoveled the coal within,
And opened up the draught.
The northern goods would be right on time,
It had always raced straight through,
The signalman slapped his forehead then,
He knew what he had to do.
He hurriedly pulled the signal off,
Then busied him switching points,
He pulled more levers across that day
Than he's ever pulled there since.
The Cornishman started to pull away,
The driver grinned up at the box,
But then it crossed to the southern line
Though nobody noticed the lapse,
It picked up speed as it left the points
And it blew three whistle blasts,
One for the train, one for the box,
And one for Miss Caroline Glass.
Caroline waved him a cheery farewell
From the cottage called Hollyhocks,
She'd once been engaged to the signalman,
Who glared at her now from the Box.
The Cornishman had reached the bend
When the goods came rumbling down,
And the loco's locked head on that day
With a blasting, grinding sound.
The wagons from the goods derailed,
Came hurtling over the bank,
Loaded with coal and bitumen
With the signalman to thank,
The tiny cottage just disappeared
In a storm of iron and coal,
And Caroline Glass was dead, before
She had waved her last farewell.
The signalman turned pale, dead white,
His heart had all but stopped
When he saw what happened to Caroline Glass
As he stood in the signal box
'A Signalman is important too, '
He said in a maddened fear,
'He holds all those lives in his hands when he pulls
All those levers and bells, my dear.'
8 June 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Seven Sins again
>
> Do we as a people really know or care
> Concerning the seven sins?
>
> Those sins are apart of our every day life.
> Those sins are apart of our strife.
> I've heard the first was vanity or pride
>
> Now that is an hell of a ride...
> Be it physical or spiritual, how would
> One keep his/her feet on the ground?
>
> Sanity what a big role...
> Does God have pride? Then I am lost.
> What mean the word boss?
>
> Those seven sins has really cost,
> Things to be...
> Unfree and that will include me.
Was it pride that set Eve free
And made Adam give up his freedom of will?
Still...
I must appeal...
I am not ill...
But the seven is a thrill...for real,
What envy you? and who...why?
And do you cry?
The have and the have nots...
Gluttony would that be?
Are all seven just pure envy?
Lust not and bust...
Lust not and rust...
The wrath of lust not is have not,
Either way you go...
Whatever door...rich or poor,
Kindness and anger in the long run meet,
Good or bad we sit and eat.
Sometimes eating out of greed...
God speed...
Is lust greed or pride?
Or just sloth...denied?
A natural, physical and spiritual guide.
'Man she looks good'
Gluttony in the hood.
'He is so fine'...or just signs of the time,
Lust is not mine.
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why they take to their heels?
Two young men were on a flying bike,
took an abrupt turn to the right
and lost some of their limbs
dashing against a turning bus to the left.
The driver and the conductor got down
and ran off with all their might.
A passenger, being social, cried:
“ How can I reach my place?
I will torch the bus”
All the passengers stared at him in mute.
A gang of AIDS –borrowers
darted into a crowded bus
and looked daggers at all,
with scaring syringes manned by HIV.
Fear lent all the passengers wings
leaving alone the poor bus-crew
to beg the deadly traders
with looks so alrming!
'HIV can't be drizzled by injection'
wasn't known to common man those days.
A public vehicle fit to be thrown away
was trotting on the road,
mindless of the overtaking private buses.
Before its heart failed,
masked men wielding rusty choppers,
waylaid it, threw stones and petrol bombs
and set fire to it to get release their boss.
The bus-crew and the passengers
Knew no directions in their flight.
--
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Crayz Age
Two music street man to enter into the crowded passenger bus
They crowled among the passenger who stand closely
who were wearing “lurik” clothes and hold his flute
Not play his flute but he held up o’s hand
As a weapon, shut to the passengers
The passenger were tired and boring
With sum of music street man on the bus
Orherwise they shut their mouth
Or like a deaf and dumb man
Or they quiet of tired, boring or vain hope
Which had couldn’t reach the attain
one of them were crowled to the back site
and the other one went to the front site
His chin pulled out, he looks to the passenger,
Oh no, he saw along to straight pass
And then he opens his rumpled books and read it with his loud voice
With his an indecent song
Potest to military regime were cruel
Or mentally corrup of birocrat
Seks scandals,
Sambil mengutip kalimat-kalimat dari bait-bait syair
Quote from “Pujangga” Ronggowarsito
“zaman edan” OR the craZY AGE
(Prasetya Utama, Bogor, Wednesday, January 18,2006)
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ultimate Sin
Overkill enough is enough
Theres nothing left of me to devour
Youve had your fill Im all I have left
What can stop your hunger for power
cos you took advantage of things that I said
Now the feeling is dead
And thats the ultimate sin
And thats the ultimate sin
Anyway I look at it now
The doors are closed and cannot be opened
Bury your anger and bury your dead
Or youll be left with nothing and no one
Theres no point in screaming cos you wont be heard
Now that tables have turned
It was the ultimate sin
It was the ultimate sin
It was the ultimate sin
I warned you then and Im warning you now
If you mess with me youre playing with fire
Winds of change that are fanning the flames
Will carry you to your funeral pyre
Its pulling you down
Its your final descent
Its too late to repent
When its the ultimate sin
When its the ultimate sin
When its the ultimate sin
When its the ultimate sin
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Alley Driver
Rough and ready rider
In a supersonic sound machine
Rock and roll survivor
Chrome pipes between your knees
Running all the red lites
Your gonna make a dead stop
But you just cant see the signs
Oh - youll never win the race
But you cant give up the chase
Death alley driver
Living at high speed
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...who knows what you need
Death alley driver...
One hundred twenty five smokin on the turns
Always on the hit and run
But you never learn...
Running from the man... and youre running
From yourself
Another dirty angel heading straight to hell
Oh - youll never win the race
But you wont give up the chase
Death alley driver...
Live in overdrive...death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...ride to stay alive
Death alley driver...
Lets go
Red lights in the mirror
Danger on the band
Got to take a detour cause a road blocks up ahead
He takes you on the corner with a wave of his hand
Death is in the back seat of a big old black sedan
Oh - youll never win the race...
As you turn and see his face...
Death alley driver...
Movin for the kill
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...
Time is standing still...
Death alley driver...
Always on the run cause youre a...
Death alley driver
Love the way it feels
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver
Hell on wheels...
Death alley driver... ooh -
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Devil in Kansas
The devil went up to Kansas looking for a soul to steal
Came across a hillbilly driving thunder with some new mag wheels
He said, I got my eye on your motor and I want to take a ride.
that ain't gonna happen, cause Suzy Mae never leaves my car and she's always by my side"
Devil's not impressed, you're sporting some power there and i'm gonna make it brief
I want that motor cause it's the best and since I'm no thief
I'll take your car and give you all you could ever want, all you could ever eat
The finest silks, you wouldn't ever dream of another treat
The devil has a muscle car And Suzy Mae's by his side
He likes the feel of it and is off for a ride
When he releases many horse of thunder
This is something he's never had, what's more it's bound to cure his hunger
Good vibrations begin to find places he'd forgot
And most of all it's even found his wotnot
Devil says, this charging around has got me too
Mile after mile is slipping by, this is fun, this I could do
Devil up in Kansas likes the look of suzy mae, he takes a look across and lets go of the wheel
Suzy mae's not impressed about the details of their deal
Keep your eyes on the road, your mind on the driving and your hands on the wheel
Devil's steaming down the highway passing sign after sign
Suzy mae takes no nonsense, stick to the limit if you don't mind
Devil's now beginning to wonder why, of all the places he could stop, why didn't he just go by
Devil's had enough he's got the fear of god and is in a spot
He's beginning to think, home wasn't this hot
This gal beside him is a fine thing that's got him beat
He'll just mosey on home and stoke up the heat
A telepathic message to the hillbilly, I'm returning your car along with Suzy Mae
Visits to your world will be in the night, never in the day
Much as I love this motor with all it's chrome
I'm giving it back as I've something burning at home.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Darkly Dreaming Dexter
For as long as I live
My heart will be too empty to give
Anything else but material thing
And although my face seems to sing
Soul is emptier than a simple ring
An emptiness that surrounds my being
Dark clouds above my head
Every time my Dark Passenger is not fed
He won’t hesitate to come into my bed
Just to get his piece of death
He demands a flood
Of that sticky, ugly blood
Dark Passenger must be fed
A new victim must be found
Knife will spill his blood over the ground
And Dark Passengers voice will once again ring out in to the night
Justice is once more pleased, and so is my fight
Another “bad guy” disappeared of my sight
But the new circle has just begun
In a while, I’ll do it again
The Dark Passenger is now in peace
Soon, he’ll come back for his piece
Wanting me to feed him with strength
And I’ll do it again, and again and again….
poem by Masha Marojevic
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Devil Digger
I was crosswired underground
Nothing seemed to fit
I was fried and memory bound
Then it came to me
Devil Digger
Unforgiver
I was on a different plane
He said come to meLaid his hands upon my brow
That's the last of me
Devil Digger
Unbeliever
Don't be sorry
It's no disgrace
But never worry (unless)
You have no faith
See him coming
He has no face
You must stop running
You must have faith
Death's not final so we're told
Words are so profound
Who the hell wants to get old
But ask in the final hours
Devil Digger - unbeliever
Devil Digger - unforgiver
See him coming
He has no face
You must stop running
You must have faith
I don't want to fade away
I don't want to fade away
I don't want to fade away
I don't want to fade away
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Devil Made Me Do It!
My father said, advising me
On a winter's afternoon,
'If you ever sup with the devil, son,
Then sup with a long spoon.'
'He'll always try to cozen you,
To draw you into his schemes,
Whenever you're down and out, my son
He'll fill your head with dreams.'
'He'll make you feel grandiloquent,
With a power so sublime,
You'll think you're all but immortal, son
As you stray from the bottom line.'
'And slowly, slowly, he will fix
His hooks into your soul,
You'll never notice the hooks, my son
As you head toward your goal.'
'But come the day of reckoning
When your hens come home to roost,
It's - 'Sign on the dotted line…', my son,
Too late then for a truce! '
'So don't you ever sign your name,
That's my advice to you,
That parchment's never the worst of things
The Devil has plans to do.'
'He has a place set up for you
In his deep and dark dominions,
Stoking the fires of hell, my son
With the rest of the Devil's minions.'
* * * * *
Many a year has passed since then,
Time tends us to forget,
I only thought of his words as those
Of some long lost vignette.
But then I started a business up
In a modest little shop,
With fishing tackle and bait, it boomed,
I thought it would never stop.
The profits soared, I built a store
So large, grandiloquent,
My rivals slandered me more and more
In terms quite eloquent.
I saw them off, I bought them out
I started a fishing chain,
Both Lord and Emperor now I felt
Surveying my own domain.
But then a salesman came to call
Who looked at me long and hard,
He shuffled up to the counter, then,
And pulled out his calling card.
'A. Lucifer & Assoc.', it said,
'Fishhooks, Sinkers & Line'.
He reached in his pocket and spilled them out
Hooks large and small, and fine.
'We're far the biggest and best, ' he said,
We cater for every whim…'
But then he stopped as he saw my face
Turn grey, while glaring at him.
'We have accounts, ' he muttered, and then,
'You don't have to pay, old son.
Just sign on the dotted line just here…'
But I'd reached for my Elephant Gun.
I grabbed his collar, I tweaked his nose,
Stuck all those hooks in his pants,
Then dragged him off to the goldfish pool
To watch the Devil recant.
'You're not going to get your hooks in me,
Old Nick, ' I raved at the wall,
But he lay splashing about, neck deep
Right under the waterfall.
'So that, your Honor, is why I'm here,
The police locked me up in a cell,
I was only protecting my soul, m'lud,
From Lucifer's hooks, and Hell.'
'The Devil, he made me do it, m'lud,
Old Beezlebub, there in the court,
I shouldn't be here in the dock today
If the Devil could only be bought.'
'He offered to sell me my freedom, sir,
Just sign, and he wouldn't sue…
I'd rather spend time in a prison cell,
But I guess… that's up to you! '
4 March 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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