T.G.I.F. 12/20/19

[Quixilated]

Hello! Welcome to T.G.I.F. 

What this is:  A new prompt will be posted every Fridayish.  If it’s not Friday where you are, don’t worry! You can post here any time you want.  You can post as many poems as you like as long as they in some way resemble the prompt.  Everyone is welcome to participate in this thread at any time, no restrictions apply.  Don't overthink the prompts, just let loose and have a bit of fun.

How it Works:   
1. Write a poem on the suggested topic using the form described.  (However, the prompt is more like guidelines, not a hard and fast rule.)
2. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread.
3. The goal is to have FUN!!!   Comments, kudos, and questions are welcome responses.

Friday, December 20, 2019

Topic: naughty or nice?

Form: any

Line Requirement:  any

[dukealien]

N&N

Nice and naughty specify
broad ranges of full good and evil
but in being neither set
a limit, each of them, for naughty
doesn’t overstep to evil
as what’s nice is not quite good.

It’s a matter of intent,
perhaps, a dash of habit or
sheer playfulness (for naughtiness)
however misdirected, and
that being nice can simply be
a matter of ingrained politeness.

Their rewards are similarly
limited: one’s nice behavior
earns a dolly or a popgun
as one’s naughtiness discovers
coal and switches’ admonition
while full goodness leads to Heaven
and full evil makes one subject
to the guy in red who isn’t
Santa Claus - no bells, just horns.

[billy]

an offering to the blue of sky

i don't know if
i'm good or bad or somewhere
in-between
the day and night of dark or bright
animus
or kindly light 'twixt shit or shite
it's all a spark
an ember burnt in hell or high
to simply live
some special need to give or steal
and thereby be
i can't be good i can't be bad
Schrödinger asks
"what is life" how can events in space and time
make of me what i am

[busker]

Comrade Stalin -

was he naughty or nice?
Was it just bad advice
that led to the slaughter of the Kulaks and assorted political adversaries, including carpenters and shoeshiners for bureacratic reasons,
or something more sinister,
like trying to administer
an ungovernable country of recently freed peasants
with Marxian theory, as amended by Lenin
after he sent his men in
to take out the tsar, and his wife and kids, just in case
they started a latter day rebellion in England,
or Paraguay, or Benin.

Was it bad advice,
or an overdose of spice
that rent his spleen, and made him choleric,
and channelise the spirit of Atilla the Hun,
Genghis Khan, and Alaric?

We shall never know now
unless we dig up his body
and examine his guts,
the diameter of his nuts
with a pair of Vernier callipers.
If measuring like a klutz
one snipped his parts away,
well at least he's dead -
that's what she said.