Solid Gold Fairway Poem by Buddy Bee Anthony

Somebody ought to kick you in your money.

Everyone's tried
talking with you
but none of our words
seem to filter through.
Maybe it's time to try option number two
A scissor kick to grab your attention?
Since, I see no other way to
stamp an impression
than to blast a three pointer
through your stock option pa toot.
Corner kick it into
your goal line stance
Bull rush through your pomp
and circumstance.
Shuttle you on through
to a busman's holiday
double down,
slingshot
to the Moon
Spinning our champagne wishes
into a dream come true.

Allow me to take you on a
protracted vacation
with your collateral.
Since, your allure isn't as much chemical
as mathematical.
We could gourmand on far better
than cheese food and bologne.
Fond memories to
get us through
when we're cloistered
in the old folks home.
Slurping up their slop
from plastic sporks
and baby spoons.
But, first we'll ride upon
the brightest of Stars
Corral the rarest of Moons.
Throwing our poorer relations
into a tail spin
scheming to squander
our scatter too soon.
Give the boot to the medical circus crew
wringing their hands
telling us there's nothing they can do.
except give us our toe tags,
when we die of bird flu.
Let them call us difficult, cunning, or shrill.
We'll out flank them all
with years younger energy pills
Now, hold really still
so I can hammer kick
the gold gold dust out of you
Give me the green light
ready-set-go
And I'll two-stroke
you in your stock portfolio.
Sand blasting us both out of
the blind rough
and onto our solid gold fairway.

Buddy Bee Anthony

All editing, publishing, and copyrights reserved as is by this author

Re-edited 01/01/2023 @ 6: 46 AM Pacific Standard Time