This Demon Does Exist! - A poem of Job Hunting Frustrations Personified!

I am working out his taxonomy,
that damned Ethernet spirit of vexation,
who haunts me every bloody day
ripping up my hopes for jobs.

He's related to lawyer Cousin Murphy,
with a dash of Perversity's Imp,
and a strong dose of Satan,
topped by Mammon's greedy genetic heritage.

Damned if he ain't stalking me!
Every job app goes awry somehow!
Don't tell me its just paranoia,
until you taste his nasty venom!

Tried almost every trick I possess
to sneak around his demonic vigilance.
Feints, bobs, ducks and weaves failed,
so I am left one option.

I'm gonna do a job application
that is all done with humor!
Make the bastard laugh so hard
he forgets to screw me over!

Now, like I said, I'm studying
his every feature and dirty tool
to prove he actually does exist,
and thus get my just dues!

Too bad demons are legally immune
to prosecution or civil law suits.
It'd be fun sticking him up
on the witness stand by surprise.

Call me crazy, label me mad!
Hell if I give rats' behinds!
This pervert is out there, laughing
even as I point him out...
... hiding behind all those dancing electrons!

15May2013 - Dyfedd Rex (Yes, I know, its cryptozoology to you, but to me it metaphysical biology!)

Murphy Wants to Play - A poem of God's Cribbage Board

When I came in today
I heard the shuffling cards,
and after a little bit
that ghostly crib board appeared
once more with pegs set
for three players to game.

Looking at the score track
I note the skunks taken
by the others of late
as I got mugged again.
Yet I am not out
needing to settle my account.

God deals out first hand
and from my five cards
I choose one to discard
having to load his crib
or break my sweet hand
leaving me to trail behind.

So once more we play
on this ethereal game board
and the pegs mark progress
though I wonder some times,
is it just a dream
until Satan's hand is nineteen.

That leaves me to smiling.
Yeah, even the Lying Prince
has to be honest here
for he knows he's replaceable,
as Murphy sits behind him
asking to be dealt in.

Never sure what cards land
on the table for me
until I lift them up
and pray Lady Luck intervenes
to give me the cut
and make my hand win.

13December2012 - Dyfedd Rex.

Ghost Dinghies of the Doldrums - An older poem for your Halloween needs

unpainted wooden boats adrift in open waters

Came upon them, we did
the plain wooden shore boats,
 that normals as trails behind a ship.
driftin' in doldrums' bated breath,
we crossed this treacherous sea
looking for our fortunes and dreams
by raidin' the holds of others.

None were aboards 'em,
and no goods, tools or clues lefts
by thems as put offs some vessel
to seek the wind where she hid perhaps
or fleeing mad capt'ns rage at the calmin',
by takin' the risk of the deep blue below
and chancin' Ol' Scratch's glance .

Ghost boats the murmurs ran
as the helm were set hards to starboards
 as to steer rounds 'em by a wide distance
lest there be wreckage of another
that plied these seas in trade or like we
to live off others hards workin's
come up to tears we hull.

By consensus of the crew
under the rules we'd voted upon
when we raised the flag of black cloth
we chose to ne'er even looks agains
lest the sirens be usin' them boats
as baits to lure us to they clutches
to drags down to Davey Jones Locker.

Don Juan vs. the Naughty Naked Ninja-Nuns

With a flick of the thumb
cards riffle out on the table
the players relaxing for a while
their wimples pushed back off hair
left mussed and really charged up
sipping Gin and Tonics while playing
a game named for the booze.

When enters from Hell's broken gates
that wicked libertine of worldly renown
the man from the Iberian Peninsula
seeking more wenches to be remade
as notches in his notorious belt
and thinking these sultry sinful sisters
might just fill that bill nicely.

Now these were no mere mortals
yet not raised up to goddesses,
still to dare make a pass
at Naughty Naked Nuclear Ninja-Nuns
is not something I would recommend
heed this tale to understand why
oh secret reader of perverted tales.

Now Don Juan made his offers
not to one at a time
but all in bed at once
which rarely stirs the ladies hearts
outside certain shady literary genres
which lead to a flat rejection
voiced by all in unison monotones.

But that wicked and horny Spaniard
could not get the message connected
to any part of his mind
and pressed his suit (and body)
over the ladies despite earlier warnings
from demons so dire even Satan
leaves them to their own devices.

Gentle ones close your delicate ears
for that sparked the violence indeed
setting in motion flesh and wood
in the dance school children fear
as knuckles and more delicate parts
were sought out by whistling rulers
striking with Atomic Bomb powered smacks.

Now here is what sets fools
apart from the rest of us,
for this only made our villain
more aroused and determined to succeed
instead of severely psychologically traumatized forever
as he presented his case again
only to offer a new target.

Bared flesh now glistening with exertion
blazed through the air like birds
doing an intricate ballet of pain
as feet and fists lashed out
seeking groin and their foe's backside
specifically the part used for sitting
as highly explosive impact bull's-eyes.

When latter he recovered back below
unable to get off his feet
for the next many long weeks
he found out about modern tech
as the video was endlessly replayed
showing his inglorious and embarrassing defeat
being de-pantsed by Ninja Nuns.

The moral to this woeful tale
is never disturb the naked ladies
for they may be deadly servers
of the Fate you richly deserve
for actions against the fairer sex
that were never solicited or encouraged
thine fundament may indeed be kicked.

(28Apr2010 - Dyfedd Rex)

　

Bottom Dealer's Punishment

The rasp of the cards
Makes ol' Scratch flinch quick
as memory of past games rise.
He knows this is another
of those games coming now
at him with a vengeance
just by the mean glint
in my eyes' squinting corners.

Cards float across the table
and are picked up fast
by his red clawed hand
that trembel a small bit
as he thinks once more
"Why am I playing again?"
Then remembering where he was
when not across from me.

I won't embarass him much
other than to say this,
He missed his Nibs twice,
had three lousy nineteen hands
and I stole his crib
more times than he wished.
Not that it mattered any,
he still crossed skunk line.

So we sit now quiet
waiting for fresh coffee brewing
and wonder if he will
try again to cheat me
and suffer a terrible price
as I told him before:
"Deal off the bottom, Satan
and I start taking muggings."

A Friendly Game of Crib with the Adversary - A poem of Cribbage and Metaphysics

Old Scratch came around
looking for a soul
but only found me
and that cribage board,
shuffling cards in boredom.

So the Devil smiles,
taking the facing seat
and says: "Deal, mortal."
grinning as he adds
"Your soul for losing."

I give him nothing
but a smug grin
looking to ask why
only to strangely find
tears on his face.

"I gotta meet quota"
he admits in chagrin
as I deal cards
"But days like these,
the Other Side wins."

As he lifts up
his cards to play
I break his heart.
"No bets today, Scratch.
But coffee's on me."

We played as viscious
as any other time
when bets were made,
but without the cheating
and muggings of old.

Its sad when folks are down on their luck
And old Adversaries come to commiserate over bad times
But over the board you form a bond true,
that is not shownb the pegs' final positions.

When he finally left
I watched his back
curved and slumped over,
and had to sigh
as he walked away.

If it's this bad
that Satan feels beaten
by the sagging economy,
the why do I
not smile in joy?

Or is it this:
that over our games
as he tried stealing
my immortal soul away
we each earned respect?

Besides, I only won this time by getting in a fifteen-two
before having to tell him "Go" for one-twenty-one.