Trending Words & Poems from February 04, 2014

Trending Words:

karzai
embryos
kalinsky
kalinskys
pgd
embryo
hbcus
cbo
hermione
gss

Poems

Poem with probability = 0.999911186338

Chris kicks Wildstein now that he's down,
There was a time Chris didn't frown
At an old high school buddy,
Middle aged fuddy duddy,
And mark him untrustworthy clown.

But Chris is a desperate man
And now that Bridgegate hit the fan,
He's busy denying,
"They lied to me!", sighing,
Throws under the Bus all he can!

Poem with probability = 0.999895661805

Being progressive's a hard lot,
You compromise more than a jot,
The wealth gap gets wider,
You're now a time bider,
There's little for you in the pot.

The new POTUS promised you change,
You gave him your vote in exchange,
He's obstructed and blocked,
Yet do not be shocked
If at times his decisions seem strange.

Poem with probability = 0.995221761658

With appreciation for my "Leaders": Rima,, K. Garcia, and L.Eisenberg
(Strangers....But Valued in my "Morning Social')

With Age and a stroke, I've lost some Mind...
The Memory for Facts is hard to Find.
There's Pain that I feel in losing a Name
Of a tender Person my Heart can't Frame.
I have Empty Spaces where there Used to be Thought.
The Value I Had now seems to be Naught.
I exercise Words to Strengthen some Cells
With the Hope that my Intelligence someday Swells.
Since "Losing My Mind" I Seem to Find...
My Greatest Presence is in Being Kind.

(Thanks for the Space,)

Poem with probability = 0.989671782411

If only Louis DiNatale had offered the right answer to the Canadian border guard . . .

Oh Miss Effie was her name
Through the west she won her fame
Being handy with the gun
But she drove the men insane

Cause she'd whip out her pistol
And shoot most any guy
And sing out this alibi

I didn't know the gun was loaded
And I'm so sorry my friend
I didn't know the gun was loaded
And I'll never, never do it again

But one night she made a slip
Shot the sheriff in the hip
So the law it took a hand
And made Effie take the stand

And she pled, 'oh your honor
I'll know you turn me loose
When you hear my one excuse'

I didn't know the gun was loaded
And I'm so sorry my friend
I didn't know the gun was loaded
And I'll never, never do it again

Poem with probability = 0.988631894032

m.a. Hoffman had a great talent. As they used to sing in my grandma's day:
At the old concert hall on the Bowery,
'Round a table were seated one night,
A crowd of young fellows carousing
With them life seemed cheerful and bright.
At the very next table was seated
A girl who had fallen to shame,
All the young fellows jeered at her weakness,
Till they heard an old woman explain:

She is more to be pitied than censured,
She is more to be helped than despised.
She is only a lassie who ventured
On life's stormy path, ill-advised;
Do not scorn her with words fierce and bitter
Do not laugh at her shame and downfall.
For a moment, just stop and consider
That a man was the cause of it all.

There's an old-fashioned church 'round the corner
Where the neighbors all gathered one day,
While the parson was preaching a sermon
O'ere a soul that had just passed away;
'Twas this same wayward girl from the Bow'ry
Who a life of adventure had led.
Did the clergyman jeer at her downfall?
No! He asked for God's mercy, and said:
She is more to be pitied than censured ....

Hope they catch the man who gave him the stuff and that guy never sees the other side of prison bars again. We need to stop punishing the users and double down on the suppliers, just like we need to help the hookers and go after the pimps and johns.

Poem with probability = 0.984000675954

The shlumper is now the new norm,
Look neat and you kick up a storm,
If you wear a tie
You're given the Eye,
The workplace is an unkempt dorm.

Poem with probability = 0.969764065464

From John Brown's Body

"The gentlemen killed and the gentlemen died,
But she was the South's incarnate pride
That mended the broken gentlemen
And sent them out to the war again,
That kept the house with the men away
And baked the bricks where there was no clay,
Made courage from terror and bread from bran
And propped the South on a swansdown fan
Through four long years of ruin and stress,
The pride—and the deadly bitterness.

Poem with probability = 0.944544639952

Great idea to go TV with this. If they need a theme song, and a sexier title …

“Squalid Gold” - tune of Solid Gold

The pages keep turning, its readers now learning
The rights for the screen have been sold
The smartest decision would be television
Where that sprawling book could unfold

Squalid gold
Could become a viewing habit
Squalid gold
Though the story is controlled

You could go on for ages
With its eight hundred-plus pages
With planning, they could be panning, panning for gold
Squalid gold

Poem with probability = 0.499897404415

Voice of reason? Hardly.

Voice of propaganda? Definitely.

Poem with probability = 0.481070975193

Self-defeating pair:
Gynecomastia and
Renewed libido

Poem with probability = 0.451503973992

David C.,
If it talks like a Soprano,
Acts like a Soprano,
And waddles like a duck.....

Poem with probability = 0.415601088997

Guys worry about their Low T,
When their junk they can no longer see.
But to cure this condition,
See a good dietitian,
Who'll prescribe that you eat broccoli.