"Lets get ready to rumble, "Get ready, get steady, and rumble, "Everybody rumble," Is a lyric from my youth, Expressing a need quite uncouth, To joust with one's fists, Or feet, or twist ones wrists, A Chinese burn or a turn, Of the nipple, a nipple cripple, And in my opinion, quite humble, And not intending to grumble, Should we all: 'get ready to rumble' The walls of society might crumble. Tomorrow I am going to deal with the lyrics 'whoops-a-daisy, lets go crazy, just like Patrick Swayze'.
Please forgive me, For my memory is hazy, It was one of those lazy days, Spent whiling away the hours, Watching the cold April showers Flatten the flowers, until the rays Of the sun cut through the clouds And removed this interminable shroud So that we might play. We took the roof down, A leatherette gown pooled with water. "James, in the back," for his legs were shorter Than mine and could bunch against the seat, "Tuck in your feet." We had rain, we had sleet, We had lightening in sheets, And now the glorious sun's heat. I reached for the stereo, Depressed the pedal, called "here we go!" A show of youthful exuberance, I twisted the radio's protuberance, The volume control. The speakers vibrated, This need for speed and noise will be sated! The music spilled and the air was filled, Our egos inflated, with bated breath we waited, "Whoops-a-daisy, lets go crazy, just like Patrick Swayze." A look of disgust, a cloud of dust, With brakes applied on the radio I dived, And shut the music away.
Parallels of Nobody A dance of rage and recklessness, --Nobody in the kitchen again. The glaring light, the glaring truth, --Nobody's reflection. There in the kitchen window, --Nobodys, parallel.
Lyrics count as poetry, yes? *Insert every Justin Bieber song lyrics here* HAHA. I'M JUST KIDDDDIIING. KIDDING. Please....No one be offended. Just a joke ..............hehehe
'Neverything' Not all of this - or anything otherworldly I might know nor the opposite - of something which is there no, to outline the negative implication - or despair neither as the opposite of everything - oh it's going to be said nothingness' duality needs not be further stressed now who claims it's same-same, but different, warning don't mingle with the ulterior not yet manifest - or else shadowy figures watch - over you as you try to rest
Hello darling Hello baby Want to hit that Don't say maybe Lets get married We'll have babies I just met ya I don't know ya are you crazy?
My heart dips into the chalk Which flies around the air like dust Our love is like a pommel horse baby Round and round A blister, a fall Your leather makes me squeak And if we are judged poorly I care not.
Golf not, Thou privileged rareling of wealth, Lest thy balls, by their aerodynamic dimples Betray thee by their flight. Rather, kazoo The hits of Sinatra and Crosby, Bagpipe the Beatles and Stones, whose wrinkles Betray their Pleistocene origins, Pre-electromagnetism, post-aerodynamics, Thy roommates empillowing their unfortunate ears, In Hope and Pear That thou drownest in thy dishwater So that they, by the grace of all grace may Sumo thy balloon animals from The Sandbox of Freedom Unto the Astroturf of the one percent And the upshot explodes into starbursts, Roman candles, and things that fizzle In the wet wet wet wet wet.
Please don't hurt me for posting this! It just came to me in the shower and I thought it was silly enough to put here. It's called: The Lament of the Human Male Half the world has dangly bits Between their legs; the other, tits Upon their chests, up front and proud Displayed so they might draw a crowd But many grieve about their breasts “Not big enough! I cannot rest!” They pay the doctors quite a whack To stuff their chests with saline, Jack Had I a mind to follow suit And give the surgeons all my loot To give my bits some extra size So they would be my proudest prize The women all would double-take And in my face their fingers shake If I had bits down to my knees To match my girlfriend’s triple E’s I’d incur the wrath of society’s Matrons, and their attorneys.
Mares eat oats, and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy. The ivy was poisonous, don'tcha know. The mares ran 'round. The does fell down. Ergotamine is quite lively, The ivy was poisonous, now you know.
There once was a little fish called Ronlet It swam round and round all day in his goblet Long story short, because it liked those And never memorized lengthy ones, like prose An intellectual swimmer, a golden winner Having an identity crisis Wondering; I think, therefor I am, Or; If I didn't swim I sank He came to doubt Existence, what did it revolve around? He made up his mind, and tried his luck To infinity and beyond *knock* Quickly his journey came to an end He reached the edge of his realm, A see through border of his nugatory dwell, fortunately, Like his head, not made of eggshell, the concussion hurt like hell His health never recovered From amnesia he suffered One half was given the sack, And the other half he could remember He used to wonder To be or not to be, turned out he Ron'd Now there was no place inside Ron For ruminating sentences that long All that remained from "to Ron or not to Ron" was "To Ron, to Ron, to Ron, to Ron", gosh. These next events one day were rather absurd "Eureka!" yelled from the celestial outskirts His owners made a remarkable invention They even were killed for it, didn't I mention? The device that could fool nobody twice Was designed to read minds Little did they know Not only humans had thoughts and a soul The burglars tried it out on the fish Before throwing it all in the ditch Not having a name of their new campsite, The founders of what became known as Toronto were slightly inspired These criminals with no conscience tried the machine on each other Throwing it away immediately, because the buddies did shudder.
I am a bird flying flying flying away I don't know where I'm going But I bet it's somewhere super dazzling and meaningful and profound flying flying away Now I'm lost and I'm tired of flapping my wings Where am I going again? I don't want to fly anymore To somewhere super duper dazzling and profound You are the wind beneath my wings My soul, carrying me forward When I am too weak to carry on What's that I hear? The sound of my destiny it sounds a bit like the cry of a turtle I'm crying crying crying crashing into a tree ***
Canned peaches in a bowl spinning like goldfish that I can not spoon up when their world gets cloudy.
O little Saxo O little citroën Saxo, your soft eyes filled with woe once proud family hatchback, long journeys you did know before succumbing to the rust. rescued from the dusty barns of men to know the thumping of sub-woofers and alloy wheels again. Twenty years and seven, til your ascension to youthful heaven and car-meet mention. the beast of burden litre engine given close attention. flames on side and spoiler high Dials broken but spirit intact, your long history untracked. But love you knew and love you know at least until your throttle goes. Hiding behind your tinted glass Little Saxo, must you look so crass? Low now, you lie, speed humps we cannot mount and the odometer is beyond recount Soak the speckled velour, rays through your sun roof And light the touch by fickle youth who loves but makes you so uncouth.
Brilliant! Some Rich Twerp in My Old Dutch Oh my Fuck Ness Monster He cried as his chai spilled Oh my, the lil Thai trilled watch where you go sir In response, he dweebed "ping tan poo" and "piss off." With a hard, hard pee. I whispered to my bee ef that shitlord keeps a journal wherein he scribbles with effort like a chimp playing Scrabble "Well you see, am rather proud of moiself if truth be boasted. I don't scrub floors in Chelsea I only dine and whine in Chelsea And my flat's near Albert's Hall but I still Get Cockney Rhyming Slang 'cause my daddy once met a hooli-gang" Anyway, why come to a pancake place and only buy tea?
My Secret Twin I don’t know who she is Or if in fact it is a she But something’s always been missing From somewhere deep inside of me: It’s her!
Flowers delighted, my day pivoted on their stems like a greased axle. A bulb that fed bees left me more than pleased. With my eyes shut, it was like being lost in an embrace. The flowers' magic cast a spell on my clouds.
There was an online writing forum Whose poetry thread drew a quorum Bad poetry its name Now let's all play this game Purple pumpernickel.
You guys gotta remember: This is the BAD poetry thread, not the good one. So stop posting good poetry here. If you have anything stupid and ridiculous, post it here. This is not the thread for putting respectable stuff. @Darkkin, I'm looking at you. Post crap. That's what this thread is for.
