I've never twitted on Tweeter
nor am I an Instagrammarian
I've searched on Goggle
but cannot find MyFace on the interweb
I ask "how do I find the North Star?"
and get 4,460,000,000 hits, mostly ads
for an ice cream bar called "The Big Dipper"
so I go make some toast and eat lunch
at least I can work a toaster
Kids think I was born in the Jurassic era
believing my first job was swabbing the deck
on a Byzantine sailing ship
for I speak of phones connected to the wall
and TV sets with 4 channels and cars that got 8 mpg
I don't know url's from www's, or http's from html's
my mobile phone always auttocronects my speeling
and cyber censors block my search for 'penal colonies'
I cannot find the mute button on Zoom
so my belch might make it into the meeting minutes
my internet takes regular coffee breaks
and the only tweeting is the birds outside my window
so I sit at my screen watching dots chase themselves in a circle
trying not to get toast crumbs
on my high tech keyboard
Written 16 Mar 2022
Purple People Eater
My car.
It is great.
It takes me everywhere,
Like a roller skate.
I can not wait to go…
Again and again.
We travel from this side to that side,
The state is far and wide.
She is hard to miss.
The color royal, the top is black,
She is sexy.
Thats a fact.
25-30 MPG
10 gallons in the tank.
Do the math,
She is unstoppable.
My tracker, she is always moving forward.
Ever do I pray before we go…
but we do…
Go and go and go…
Brexit Sonnet No. 37
‘Road to Brexit’
This road to Brexit’s poorly signed and mapped,
It twists and turns and dead ends do prevail.
It’s not on any sat nav, its surface badly cracked,
And rutted tracks, they tell a sorry tale.
No smart ideas to aid our flowing lane,
No highway code to keep us safe and sound.
Just contra-flows in a sea of aching pain,
And no signage placed to bring us homeward bound.
Yet speedsters speed, the limit they do flout,
No cameras work to record their blatant charge.
No yellow lines, just red ones round about,
Economy mpg? Now not large.
Our syncromesh has dropped its cog again;
Best stop, restart and engageth Nation’s brain.
©Keith Murphy
So,
a recent
study showed
that the average
person walks about
800 miles per year and
on average we each drink
around 22 gallons of alcohol
in that time; so this means that
on average we get about 41 mpg
People made fun when I bought an Echo
they said it couldn’t out run a gecko.
Called it a four cylinder sewing machine
about the size of a large kidney bean.
In 01 when the gas was not as high
a manual stick I opted to buy.
I said gas will go up you wait and see
they jeered and laughed, all poking fun at me.
I pampered it with K & N filter
made sure not a thing went out of kilter.
Added a tornado to air intake
increasing mpg was piece of cake.
With windows rolled down, holding constant speed
forty-seven miles per gallon- indeed.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
MPG, who cared?
Nature takes brunt, oil searched glut.
Have Mercy, Please God!
*For "Tainted feathers" contest