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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn  7/10/2014 3:35:49 PM
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  ALBERT AHEARN
 
 
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  77.     

Ad [Verse] Sarcasm

The weatherman predicts some snow;
He calls for about three inches.
Must be great playing god, to know
How much will fall, but that’s show biz.
I know one thing: if I were wrong
As often as the weathermen
I wouldn’t have my job that long.
They screw-up time and time again
And still manage to keep working.
Imagine a neurosurgeon
Working on your head one morning
As inept as the weathermen.
Perish the thought! Some comfort though
If they call for it, it won’t snow.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  78.     

Affectedness

I walk the Sunday streets once more
Long before the peal of church bells
Tuned to summon the hypocrites
From their cozy residences.
It will be awhile till they flock
En masse to the numinous house:
The butcher whose scale is slightly
Off in his favor; the lawyer
Whose soul was sold ages ago;
The car salesperson cramming cars;
Physicians unmindful of the poor
And an overweight clergyman
Orchestrating the proceedings.
Bong! Bong! Soon the parade begins.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  79.     

Alcoholism

An opened fifth of hangovers
rests beside his dried driveled arm
(drug used by underachievers.)
Out cold, head resting on forearm
Unconscious in a dreamless world,
a portal often frequented:
an alcoholics netherworld
and mind most disoriented.
A parched throat forces arousal
And miasmic exhalations
rekindle once more pitiful
repeated, inebriation.
A morning swig begins his day
and ends the same as yesterday.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  80.     

Alliterative Rambling

I often wondered why manmade laws fail.
They are canny compromised concoctions
Agreed to by gregarious, greedy
Souls with agendas, agents for the rich.
These representatives repeatedly
Parrot party politics to pave the
Way to enactment. Actors on a stage
Playing roles with planned scripts from you know whom.
Feigning their motions with faintest vigor
That only con their constituencies.
As long as there are have and have-nots
The have-nots will always want; the haves keep.
The rich control the governing body
Middle-class mental midgets elect them.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn