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Introspection Humorous Poems | Introspection Poems About Humorous

These Introspection Humorous poems are examples of Introspection poems about Humorous. These are the best examples of Introspection Humorous poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Where The Grass Is Turning Brown In Spots I Buried My Memories

List of things to do before

I fall in love again
I allow my mind to take me
Into the
A wild opened fields
where the grass is turning brown in spots
^
There’s one
 Wild flower
And
Dozens of
Scattered pebbles,
Under my feet
^
Taunted memories,
Bare trees with bend trunks
A cool breeze washes my face
No more umbrella tree
To relief me from
Ray of the sun
I squint from the sun in my eyes
^
To
Think of the ghost in my past
Or to deal with the
Ray of the sun
^
Lists of things to do before
I fall I love again
Buried the pain
Low the drawbridge
or
Keep the enemy out
^
I want to be happier 
Than I‘ve ever been
To
Fall in love again
^
I buried
 Painful memories
Under the bare umbrella trees


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | Acrostic | |

Smile

Sense of humour, elevating our spirits
Musing over the simple things in life, rejoicing at what we find
Imagination stimulated, childlike, seeing the wonders in life
Light heartedness, laughing at one’s self!
Everything as it is meant to be, smiling, enjoying, the gift of life


Details | I do not know? | |

Diverse

Oh say can I see 
By the big florescent lights
Once so proudly now has fell
Fell into reality? 
Fell into right? 
Fell into a time where there should have never been a fight!! 

With ’In God We Trust ' printed on every dollar. 
But God got kicked out so Columbine became the shocker. 
But was it also ' In God We Trust ' when we failed to see nothing but color?

With the hoses put down, 
and Dr King no longer around, 
is ‘The Dream’ still being reached? 
Is it a sign that the first homes we see 
are no longer a possibility?

When the Towers came down,
we were 'United we Stand'
But when gas prices rose it was, 
“You're on your own, man!” 

‘A penny saved is a penny earned,’ 
is from the man that first helped us try to learn. 
But when we stopped asking what our country can do for us, 
is that the time when the table turned?

Now that Rosa will no longer be on the bus, 
I wonder who will now take that seat for all of us. 

With Miss America in the cast, 
when will we ever see Miss Disability last? 

What happened to the times of ‘I am not a crook’, 
it took a back seat to the Man who wrote the Book. 

And the rockets red glare, 
with bombs still bursting in the air, 
is it wrong to fight for the night 
when our children’s children will still be there.


Details | Rhyme | |

Four frogs on a log

Four Frogs On A Log.

Four frogs were lazing in the sun
When a log came floating by.
So the frogs all scrambled on to it
With happy little cries.
Not one of them had sailed before
And it was so much fun
But then it was, the big debate begun.

One frog said "Ain't that something
This log is so alive.
It moves along so easily
Now don't you think, you guys?".
"It's not the log that moves you twerp!!"
Said another thinking frog.
It be the river moving, not the log!!

"Oh no, no ,no" a third frog said
The both of you be wrong
It's not the log, the river neither 
It's your mind that moves along.
The moving be your thinking
Without it nothing be.
And those three did get to arguing
And never did agree.

The fourth frog said "you all be right
Not one of you be wrong.
The log it moves, the river moves
And the mind moves it along".
At that the other three got mad
For each did yearn to win.
So they grabbed that wise old frog and threw him in.

Socrares Feb 16 2004


Details | Acrostic | |

Reflections: Midlife Crisis

P     aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A     cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N     othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I      nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C     hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace
!!


Details | Concrete | |

POINTING FINGERS

You are one of the reasons
Why they inflate their quote
If you had seized the seasons
Good men could have had your vote


You are one of the reasons
Why our sweet land has gone sour in waste
Here is one of your multiple treasons
You aid corruption just to suit your taste


You are one of the reasons we wedge weighty wrath
Bombs daily detonate like fickle fireworks far north
You decided to do nothing but shut your mouth
So they took our weary sail south

You are one of the reasons the land is inflicted with rape
Overflowing in abundance yet you mong like a greedy ape
Alas our land is grey and old but not due
And it hurts me to know that I am also you.


Details | Bio | |

Solitude: To Yoda, An Ode

Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.

Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.

Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.

Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.

My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.

Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: V

Omniscient guy
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?


Details | Light Poetry | |

Clueless Job Applicant

You’ll never guess whom the cat drug in; have a day where you just couldn’t win?
He came strutting in, smacking his gum loud, dressed to the nines Goth Punk style.
Tats trailed down his left arm, with my notice, he said, saving up for the other arm.
When ask about drugs, his answer to me was: “Yes, I’ll share” most invitingly…

Metal adornments on ears, nose, and lips, didn’t want to know, the all of it, at this.
As I noticed, he smiled most cattily, asking: ‘Want to see where else they might be?’ 
Hair a Mohawk with a trail down his back, colors of the rainbow, left nothing to lack.
Steel studs on a black leather butt, said, ‘Bite Me!’ with each and every staged strut.

What are you kidding?… Do my eyes me deceive, or did he just make a pass, at ME?
No Way! I’d rather drop kick him from my office fast, didn't he have any real class?
The application, a Sales Manager Job. Who would try to send me over the deep end?
Bet it had been a practical joke, beginning to end, so I simply held on, my friend.

He must've read my face, forhe smirked, I continued to ask for his list of experience.
His experience was none, but he said he managed his I-tune collection, very well.
Of course, he was the Leader of his ‘Chat Room’. I wondered, ‘Who could tell?’ GEE!
Also an impressive set up on his Facebook page, for his innumerable video games.

I ask how he was qualified for ANY job? Said, Dad ‘THE CEO’ wanted him employed.
I verified this with a call, was told not to be too Harsh, he had Potential, after all...
Ask what job he wanted to give his son? ‘Let him chose himself’, came the real clue!
Ask him, what job he really wanted to do, ‘VP in charge of Recreation’ was imbued.

Said he'd check out all the great places, in his Dad’s fancy Porche. Honestly True!
I kid you not! And he wanted his girlfriend, made into his secretary, Yah! No Doubt!
Believe it or not, he got all he thought he was due. All approved by the CEO’s! True!
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better… I began to really reconsider…

Really, who had been clueless… It hadn’t been him!… Which left me in a dither…
Knowing I just couldn’t win!  I’d be glad when this day was finally, truly, done… 
The kid had probably thought this a great joke on me from beginning to the end!
My perfect job, had just come undone! Apparently, being in HR isn’t always fun! 

My college degree, that took so much sacrifice, no longer sparkled, so much to me.
Boy did I now WISH, I was a CEO’s SON! As I simply got all the paper work done. 
Later, I saw the family portrait on the CEO’s desk. Lucky me! One down!… 
Only eight more to go!

Carol Eastman and Hubby


Details | Free verse | |

Cookies-Food For Thought

Cookies -
Why can’t I have the chocolate one
I want more
She took my cookie
Hers is bigger than mine
I want to trade
That’s not fair

Cookies +
Thank you for the cookie
I love you
Thanks for all you do for me
I am satisfied
This is good
I am loved
Written By  Deborah Finneran :)  2013


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?


Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”


Details | Limerick | |

One Resolution

I had resolved one year,
To never again have a fear
But I feared sitting down,
So I walked all around
And that's how I ended up here.


Details | Lyric | |

Bob, the Forgotten Valentine and Greedy Double Dater

My friends, this saga slowly unfurls
 a love story that went quickly awry,
 seems greedy Bob dated a pair of girls
 when with one, to the other he’d lie.
 
The homlier girl’s name was Edith
 who, nonetheless Bob was fond of,
 but, greedy Bob wanted to live out the “myth”
 and with sisters, he was sure to find love !
 
He began slyly asking about sister Kate
 for her beauty was equalled by few,
 she was young, and he believed her well worth the wait
 she had enough sex appeal for two !
 
Bob’s antics had him severely troubled
 because, he covered his tracks day and night,
 his love-making prowess had quickly doubled
 so his lovelife was going just right !
 
Well, finally Bob’s saga ended in terror
 because the girls both found out what he’d done,
 Bob had mixed their names up, in a passionate error
 and what transpired next, was not very fun !
 
One of the sisters had taken Bob’s life
 because he’d proven he couldn’t be “true”,
 and the lesson he learned, at the end of that knife
 taught, “you can’t have your Kate…..and Edith, too !


Details | Light Poetry | |

Conspiracy Tabloids

Dragon found a conspiracy tabloid in the Grocery store the other day.
Now. He believed every crazy thing that rag, had to state and to say.
So I told him those things were made up to sell papers, and ‘not real news’.
And he should research every thing, before deciding, what is really true.

First, he went onto the internet, where he said, everything is absolutely true.
Where I told him anyone could write anything, that is absolutely, totally askew.
Next he went to the newspaper, where I told him it’s all politically flawed.
Even my CNN, though not all of it, at least, not the parts, I like most of all.

This slowly became: Believe none of what you hear, and only half of what you see.
So he showed me the tabloid, and I was amazed at what I truly, did see, to be!
Yep, we were on the front page “Where the World meets Dragons and Trolls”.
That, I couldn't explain away, especially, since it, suddenly, froze my little brain. 

They had gone and given me, my dreamed upon, 5 minutes of illustrious Fame.
So I read the article carefully, then laughed, until I finally had to come up for air.
It said we had a WWII submarine in Troll Lake, manned by turtles with green hair.
It said our turtles are under cover agents, ready, to attack as terrorists, from our lair.

Suddenly, a periscope came out of the water, and then it turned directly at me! UGH!
Lord of mercy! Is all I could say? I was speechless, as Dragon looked so smug.
I believe in Dragons... but not turtles with green hair, or a little conspiracy tabloid?
He got me there! As the turtles came ashore, in perfect formation, I became annoyed.

Did the government really think we were terrorists, and up to no good? I did say!
Well, the turtles said no, and by the way, they’d bought the submarine on Ebay.
They’d seen an article on us, and it just looked like a fun place to come stay.
They're from up Australia way, and the green is algae used as camouflage, there.

About the time I think it’s weird enough, already, here… Along comes something else…
So I can only guess… What’s coming soon…so perhaps I should say?
Instead of what’s going on here, with us…What’s new with you, today?
Oh, and have a stress free day.


Details | Senryu | |

A wind vane

rough draft it will be                                                                                                     lovely music though the flags                                                                                        my pen fails to revise


Details | Free verse | |

Reflections: Intellectualism

To Dine, To Die;
Conversations spiral
While thunderous eyes
Grasp concepts to recycle.

Constant debt crisis
A political paradox
Grating social devices
Over the sorting of socks.

Pseudo-analysis
An endless groan
Argumental paralysis
The debate grants no throne.

Existentialism
Over a roast
Potatoes won't listen
To who talks the most.

"That point is so interesting"
The floor is open for chat
"What is real?" not a thing
"Meow" adds the cat.


Details | Quatrain | |

Jack The Quack



Timothy Hicks recently suggested I write one called “Jack the Quack” Who better than the quacker himself Who's wheels have left the track I've never professed to be poet In the ilk of Browning and Keats A rebel, a renegade, a enigma of sorts Marching to a different beat A bit of a “quacker” I've always been Take pride in being off beat Don't have a choice, it's who I am Travelling down a different street Always write in the purest of forms Simple quatrains most of the time Since a very young age, always thought Of poetry as a needing to rhyme Forever been one to revel in creativity Searching brand new vistas each day It sure turns my crank and floats my boat Wouldn't be happy any other way Thank you Timothy for the inspiration To express what makes me tick We're all cut from the very same cloth Till we find a pathway that clicks © Jack Ellison 2013 Timothy suggested I write this one appealing to the kiddies along the lines of "Howard The Mallard"... I chose a different route!


Details | Epigram | |

Like A Sytematic Automatic Replay

This record player has a switch
Then there is the pitch and ditch


Details | Limerick | |

The soliloquies of my Imagination

A tale from the soliloquies of my imagination
Now I am thinking of evolution
My theory reveals the nature's mystery
"It all begins in the sea, our ancestry."
Scientists bow in my appreciation.

A tale from the soliloquies of my imagination
Now I am a doctor prescribing medication
My job is to keep diabetes at bay
"Please take this pill twice a day."
Patients are full of admiration.

A tale from the soliloquies of my imagination
Now I am an actor performing an imitation
My act amazes the most critical person
"It's elementary, my dear Watson."
A deserving Emmy nomination.

A tale from the soliloquies of my imagination
Now I am writer requiring direction
My book is a thriller
'Vengeance of a charitable killer.'
An interesting plot in formation.

A tale from the soliloquies of my imagination
Now I am an army officer defending my nation
My command evokes my army
"Today, we shall crush the enemy."
Daring acts of retribution.

A tale from the soliloquies of my imagination
Now I am a philosopher seeking a solution
My notion predicts the downfall of capitalist mentality
"Change we must for eco-friendly sustainability."
A guaranteed life time award and recommendation.

A tale from the soliloquies of my imagination
Now I am a leader of revolution
My speech inspires the people to fight
"Brothers and Sisters, it's our birth right."
A sea of charged up population.

A tale from the soliloquies of my imagination
Now I am building a perfect nation
My government is the epitome of socialism
"Minister, I see a populace full of optimism."
Few steps away from perfection.

A tale from the soliloquies of my imagination
Now I am a poet of aspiration
My prose is a limerick
"Hmm! It rhyme's with 'Blackadder's' 'Baldrick' "
It's a poetic exaggeration.

A tale from the soliloquies of my imagination
Now I am me dreaming about another impersonation
My brain needs to stop
"Oh God! need no more dreams to pop."
Wonder why I always keep dreaming a situation.



P.S  the soliloquies are in quotes





Details | Epitaph | |

Dorian Gray

(Witty Epitaph) Herein lies a man named Dorian Gray He was very young and gay Till many moons one day His own painting did him away. Dorian Petersen Potter Aka ladydp2000 Copyright@2014 September,25,2014


Details | Light Poetry | |

Self Discovery with Dragon

They say there’s a touch of God in every one.
An Angel inside, that is sitting there… ready to come out.
He’ll have to wait a little bit longer… Dragon just woke up.
He’s a tad bit persnickety, which makes me rather petulant.

Yeah! He drives me slightly crazy, as I say: Oh Well! So What?
Yep! He poops on my roses and he rains on my every parade.
But he’s still the best friend… I assure you… That I have ever made.
He’s a tad bit crazy, but I believe my imagination, is the very same.

He’s the ying to my yang, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Every time I think something up and I begin to sit and write…
Dragon gets ahead of me and leads me into another plight.
He’s perfect in a parable, story, or even a fable or two.

Lord Have Mercy! NOW what next… am I going to do?
I know… I’ll try to use him to pay my son’s student loans!
While everyone is incredulous, I’ll be raking in the dough.
I guess dreams are good for something… Don’t you know!

Come here my little Dragon, it’s time to start an adventure, again.
Now, where shall I begin?  OOOPPS I’m talking to myself… again!

Imagination Contest: Carol Eastman 5-19-2014


Details | I do not know? | |

Unashamed Self-Promotion

:-)


Greetings, good and kind fellow Soup-ers!

'Tis wonderful, I say,
to be a Soup-er, so if I may,

I humbly request you to lay down your pen dipped in fine ink,
and visit my blog which can be found at the following link:

http://afzalmoolla.wordpress.com/ 

Now if this blatant self-promoting of mine seems rude,
I ask for your generous forgiveness, dear fellow Soup-er,

And wish you a day, that is peaceful, kind, and just plain super!

So cheers from the scribbler for now,
and as I take leave, my fellow Soup-ers,
I, in courtesy, to you all, do bow!


:-)





Details | Free verse | |

Living in A Glass House

Meme-Shatter 


The volume of a certain something

does not by any means determine its levity over any given situation

or its brevity by relation


Once you strike a chord,

It's moment of breath

Shatters through it's glass-painted interstellar conquest


Where the fine line between an arrow and a target success

is evident in the lack of evidence

Which provides you, the Reader, better access to the verity in absence


You're an ancient old trick

but if I am watching, you'll have no where to rest your well-traveled head

But in my seductive grin


I am too an old trick

But I stand closest to the cauldron

Stirring green the ocean

To make way for that final moment

When the flame burns cold in the winter frozen solstice;

The waves come crashing to the coasts

Coming for my broken souls

With a gleaming smile for all their sorrows


Taking off into tomorrow

With a calmed, relieved breath

Reliving the scenes on an endless landscape

Now, in compassionate presence


Because after all,

Can't have nothing without 'how'

How: being everything that has ever been conceived of.

So, what have You left out?

You've become ignorant of your own shining features

Forgotten feathers from a bow

Lost your inner voice in the mirror glow

All along Zephyr without, you've lived as a pestilence to others and yourself...

And now, its time for show


Up close and personal

Bath in all the choices ever dreamed of; and burn with a rosy glow

Opened-close a shut case

Without remorse or concern or thirst,

Because all this, will soon be Unearthed


Details | I do not know? | |

Tangential Reality

Casting aside the blunt reality
My conscious swims into the realm of all possibilities
The transition is totally automatic
I wonder if they are my subconscious' semantic
Different scenarios demand different imitations
I direct and act these inceptions.

(Scenarios)

Amidst a bus trip
Whirled in theories of evolution
Nature reveals self

Nature calls bowel
Scientist lingers, cures cancer
NOBEL in my hand

Reading morning news
Leader reforms, policies change
World at peace, prosperity

Youtube UFO's
World crisis, battling aliens
Hero saves the day

Inspiring theatre
Cool actor begins career
Wins emmy, smart speech.

A stroll to market
Writing a fictional piece
Booker, money, wife

Countless imaginations about every possible theme
At the end I reign supreme
After the end comes the brute reality
Chaos and confusion dominates my serenity
This is all about my tangential reality.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Matter of Creativity


Capital letter …

Right now, please note: it is time to dust, not write.

Dust was eating away this besieged body;
Amassing with all the misery that delights in ambush.
It crept into secret crevices,
Quietly dulling senses, as it blended in;
Softly choking, mimicking flu,
Before weaving a blanket so thick
It embraced and insulated;
Gently burying body under the weight of
An elephantine duvet with speaking tongues.

Write now, right now that house pride has succumbed to ash
As caked and empty cans and bottles decorate.
The dustman hurried by the empty drum
For rubbish barricaded the front door.

The inconvenience: to eat, drink, shop, to pay bills
Without leaving one’s desk these days.
Friends and adversaries seep out of pens,
Alphabetically springing to colourful life.
Who dares miss a thought so precious, so elusive –
Might never occur again.

So grasp it, rack it; right, left lobe battle dire emotions and reason.
Let dust prevent thoughts from leaving from whence it came.
Incarcerate all grey matters. 
Now one can write how it feels to have dust as qwerty companion.
Then fling open the door,
Let light and the world in.
Shout: “I write because I can.”  
Full stop … Exclamation mark!
End.

(PS: begin again.)


Details | Free verse | |

Love Hurts - The Symptoms

Thoughts displaced by rolling palpitations,
From left to right grow these numbing sensations,
A face which spirals down, drooping from smile to frown.

Time hibernates in this moment protracted,
Legs bow and shake to our drama just acted,
Senses into overdrive, does pain show you’re still alive?

Oxygen masks, Coxes’ rowing commands,
Heart beat machines is what love demands,
“You need time to relax”, prescriptions from Quacks,
Is love just a commonplace heart attack?


Details | Couplet | |

Problems on a Tree

If problems were like twigs on a tree
A gust of wind blowing them in the breeze

They would fall to the ground one by one
Family and friends would help and gather around

But that is not how it happens as life surrounds
Sometimes the twigs just keep falling down

Family and friends start to leave
And you are left with one big heap

Heavy on your shoulders they do weigh
More falling day by day

Realizing it is just too much to bear
Frankly, feeling this is quite unfair

So, deciding you cannot solve them all
Put those in a pile and call U-Haul.

©Holly P. Moore
    February 2013

(U-Haul provides trailers and different size trucks for hauling various items)


Details | Rhyme | |

I Suck at Being Me

I do a much better job 
with telling others what to do;
Difficulties they encounter -
I know just how to pull them through.
But, when it comes to my own life,
it doesn’t occur so easily -
The simple matter of it all is …
… I suck at being me.

I have answers to all your questions;
Remedies that you should use;
I know character traits you should acquire
and the attitudes that you should loose;
I know the words you should say
and when to respond silently,
but I do not follow my own advice, because …
… I suck at being me.

So, let me set you straight;
Let me tell you how to act.
Accept my sage advice
and take my observations as pure fact.
The most important thing I have to say,
and you should listen carefully,
don’t use me as your example, because …
… I suck at being me.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Intelligent love

My girlfriend telling me
That my love talk is useless
So I throw away all the love poems
I write for her while feeling depress

That same day it start snowing
The place was cold as ice
She calling next to her
So she on the sofa looking very nice

Now she feeling cold
She said come here honey
I said bee sucks honey from flowers
And flowers can give allergy

She looks at me like I crazy
What the hell you talking bout
I said hell is a place for bad people
And they you can never come out

I use to tell her I love you
With my words and poem
Then she says my words are stupid
So now I would not repeat them

She said my conversations
Of love are meaningless
And now I don’t show my love again
She said I’m cold and heart less

I don’t have education or degree
All I have is the facts of lie
To make a happy home and be faithful
And always love my beautiful wife

But she talks to some of her friends
About some divine way to see eternity
Like if any that will help me
To pay my bills and care for my family

Now I read a lot of books
Because I never when to school
So now when she talks to me
I will no longer look like a fool

Now she feeling romantic
She says tell me you love me
I said there is love for pets, for friends and family
So can you put in a specific category?

She laughs and says you made your point
Now I completely understand
But I was looking to find the meaning
With a dictionary in my hand

I just want to be prepared
To learn as much information
So next time she with her friends
I could join in their intelligent conversation


Details | Quatrain | |

Me In The Third Person



Strangest thought just entered my head What if I critiqued my own poems D'ya think I'd really be tough on myself Or would you detect a slight bias tone Using the criteria of accepted norms I'd be down at the bottom, no bones But for humorous verse and originality Call me Oliver Wendell Holmes First I followed time honoured patterns Of poets that have gone on before But that's not what makes a poet of note Originality is what raises his score So go ahead and break all the rules That have been in place forever Develop your style of creative writing And be proud of your endeavour (My apologies to Oliver Wendell Holmes!) © Jack Ellison 2013


Details | Rhyme | |

Chair of Madness

And here I sit in my sitting chair,
An armless wooden failed repair.
Sores a grind of bone and cheap,
From junk pieces of a tree heap.
For what madness I do not know,
Must a chair be filled with woe.
A red bottom, I fear I'll face,
From a seat of devilish embrace.
But I think I shan't  think such thoughts,
Of all that's thunk, but thought for naught.


Details | Quatrain | |

clickin' it

I'm on a roll, I just can't help myself
there's ads to the left 'n' ads to the right
there's ladies cooing "buy it" for health
I'm filling my cart with goods of delight

There's clothing in a myriad of colors
there's electronics for cars and for home
clicked a half-dozen and two for my brother
and got some software from Adobe to Chrome

I've ordered a Strad - a Steinway too,
'n' gettin a Picasso 'n' givin' it to you
they advertised a sale on NY bridges
'n' the Congressional library, unabridged

I'm tempted to click on it all you know
I love crossin' 'n' readin' 'n' spendin' dough
buyin' online just rocks my emotion 'n'
free shipping's included when buying an ocean

A new car, a new wife, maybe a new kid too!
I'm clickin' hard and shoppin' for life!
that hollowed out feeling I used to feel brew
is all but gone now and I'm cheerfully blithe

don't know if they know it but I'm buyin' their greed
I'm buyin' their lives 'cause I'm fillin' their need
they always seem happy when I get my confirmation
if it'd keep 'em happy, hell, I'd buy the damn nation

it's not that I need it, or can use it, or anything
I'm just clickin' it for the happiness it brings!

© Goode Guy 2013-08-22


Details | Blank verse | |

My Clone Got No Soul

My Clone Got No Soul

My clone, it seems, came out with no soul,
I guess it got lost, in the petri dish bowl.
In the mirror, a face like me would come through,
But that’s where it ended,
He was more like Deep Blue.
He never did find that “happy” place,
He never belonged, to the whole human race.

I wanted to console my clone with no soul,
But which part was actually there to console?
His head, his heart, his hand or his foot,
That’s a soulless sole, with no spiritual root.
He tried yoga, and diet, and Zen meditation,
But the chakras weren’t there for his elevation,
And soon he came down with “no motivation.”

I gave him the novel, that old Frankenstein,
He was all Shelly and shell shocked,
And out of his mind.
He took to drink, his gourd to console,
He even packed up, a nice little bowl.
I guess any change of mind will do,
When you’re trapped in your ego,
All cornered and blue.

So I bought him a TV, 
With a satellite dish,
But it didn’t satisfy, not one single wish.
“Too many reruns,” he said with a stare,
“Heather’s cheating on Alex, but what do I care.”
I’ve got more problems that are troubling me,
All existential and twisted, to the nth degree,

My guanine, and cytosine, none of them blessed,
My adenine, thymine, just like the rest,
All of them sequenced, in neat little clips,
Here comes the four horsemen,
Of my apocalypse.

I felt sorry for him, so sorry you see,
It was not his decision, to be all you can be,
Or not to be, that is a question, posed
with Shakespearan glee,
He couldn’t read the fine print, you see
With no eye’s you see. Oh say can you see?

My clone passed a man with a pamphlet to read,
Jesus saves my dear boy, that’s all that you need,
this contract you sign, will grant you God speed.

“I’m soulless and homeless,” said my clone with a smirk,
I haven’t had time, to be a real jerk,
I’ve been in a fog, an unfortunate haze,
I’ve been only alive for a couple of days.”

.My clone moved around on the physical earth,
With no hope of redemption, release, or rebirth,
“If love won’t release me, it’s hate I will breed,”
I‘m a terrible spawn, from a terrible seed.
In a losing game, I have to concede.”

(Now I never thought a twitch, to put him on a shelf,
But when we sat together, he was beside himself.)

My clone on his birthday sighed a terrible sigh,
That he wanted to, “just lay me down and die,”
His desire for this, was so total and blind,
His own DNA began to unwind,
I called up the Church, the Lab, and the State,
That my clone was dying at a terrible rate.
“Your call is extremely important to us”,
As long as you don’t raise, or kick up a fuss.

He died on a cold night on old Halloween,
Alone and frightened at the terrible scene.
And there, I laid my clone to rest,
But alas, he had no soul to bless.

I took a walk, to kick my heart rate,
And was grateful, 
that I had a different fate.

And if your neighbor greets you,
with a blank full of stare,
I hope he’s just tired, 
and someone’s in there.
But don’t call the Church the Lab or the State,
They usually arrive just a little too late.




 










Details | I do not know? | |

Illegitimi non Carborundum

Illegitimi non carborundum ;-)


...Staggering, my vision cloudy,


I fall to the hard ground.


when life’s sharp left-jab leaves my face bloody,


and all that surrounds me, is the desolation of loss I feel all around.



I see myself slipping,

down the abyss to where nothingness exists,


still, I cling on, groping for a foothold,

for my will to stay persists.



I clamber up, I stand my ground, though battered and bruised I may be,


my curtain is not falling yet, I have some fight still left in me.



It is then, in the pit of despair, when all seems bleak and painful and dull,


I summon the strength from deep within,


I rise, slowly, to face the day,


I refuse to sink,

to wallow, to surrender, to throw in the towel,


to drown,


for I am stronger now,


indeed I am, after all the years, and all the battles,


I stand, bruised and bloody,


still,


I stand,


I refuse, to sink, to drown,


for they can try, to punish me some more,


but I shall not allow them to grind me down…


;-)


Details | Couplet | |

like, as

i never saw the doornail die
never caught sight of a fox that sly

i didn't cure a dog so sick
didn't steal a glance of thieves so thick

i can't walk tight a rail that thin
can't see some sight as ugly as sin 

i didn't ever take any punch so pleased
or been flashed by lightening that slippery greased

i can't light bituminous coal so black
or pointedly aim as sharp as a tack 

didn't touch a witch's tit so cold
- i'd feel it's not as good as gold

i can't squish in any mud so clear
or finger a lobe cute as a bug's ear 

folks shout i'm as deaf as a post
in fact i'm even worser, than most

i can't hear a fiddle so fit
in fact i don't give a - damn

a simile is as cool as winter's rain
so i utter them like, again, and again

true, i'm as buzzed as a bee so busy
but i don't think a bee's like a simile, is he?

© Goode Guy 2013-03-06


Details | Blank verse | |

Monday Morning

 Monday Morning  
 
The mist has been hanging low over the village
like a suicidal thought on a long damp evenings. 
Poison or the rope? I remember Saddam Hussein  
his fall was long and I still hear the snap as his
neck broke. What am I doing here, this tedious, 
grey village and the smell of dirty woolen,
baaing sheep grazing amongst drab olive trees.   
The pallid houses, shuttered and avoid seeing 
the misery of the mist that drips as unstoppable 
sorrow of a death´s grief that shrouds all life.
This morning the sun was shining and the village 
Looks like a fairy tale. I sit on the terrace try to
get a humble suntan as I´m seeing the cardiologist 
tomorrow and don´t want him to think I´m sick.
This is a good place to live a place to live a long time. 


Details | Free verse | |

Dirty Little Secrets

If wishes were horses
We’d all take a ride and possibly this time
We could cum inside
Without picking up a VD-in-the-box
Or a latent addiction we just can’t detox

Mind, body, soul, heart, head and
Feet imprisoned deep in a concrete 
Complication of humiliation and revelation,
Pushed off bridges that cross
hopes, dreams, desires, expectations . . .

Only to land in realities where we sleep with the fishes.

But who can sleep with the noise
Of bombs overhead
Dropping charges of illumination into
Each and every head

Casting shadows of scattered bones
That litter floors of our closets
Our fears placed on display 
Vegas at night - Psychotic.

Riotous images of 
Things left unsaid,
Things we wish were undone
Resonate in our heads - but

Let us pause to give thanks that only Pandora has the key to

The recriminations that resulted in capitulations
Discriminations that inhibited associations
Humiliations that induced devastation
Prevented cross-pollination
& stopped maturation
Of our very soul – our God’s creation. . .

As we view it through the key hole of an air-tight little box
Reminders of the past the price we pay if it unlocks
Our reminiscing turns broad highways into vicious stumbling blocks
With ghosts of roads not taken swarming round our heads in flocks 
While blows of our poor choices, rain around our heads like rocks

But it is said that every virgin stoned has a chance to receive paradise
So we wish . . .
Hoping that God will swoop down in one big duex et machina with a

Diamond in the back

Sunroof top

Diggin’ the scene with the ability to save all the virgins

As we sacrifice our happiness on altars of regret
Untouched.

by happiness forgiveness
Trust . . .

and we still won’t let go of our
dirty little secrets.


Details | Haiku | |

KILLER

KILLER
You are a killer-
Vegetarian or not-
You eat - smash insects


Details | Free verse | |

My Secret Prison

Trapped again!

Maze hidden cheddar eluding 
every twisting turn a doorway 
to the path I’ve already forgotten
a spirit broken within each hidden cul-de-sac.

I cry.

Depression building my will 
crumbling into fatal despair
that rages with a whisper
as quiet as a hurricane.

I sleep.

I scream at one wall 
HA! HA! HA!
hundreds more continue laughing.
Right! Left! NO! RIGHT! Left! Right! LEFT! YES! Right!

I succumb.

Cheddar thoughts and running 
water sustain my desire to escape
through walls of scent
filled dreams of freedom.

I laugh.

Test complete. Failure.
Should have smelled for Camembert.


Details | Senryu | |

A LOCK WITHOUT KEY

                                                 a lock without key
                                          keeps no use and value there
                                                  a key without lock

                                                  a key's not of own
                                               rusting daily in drawer 
                                                   lock's of another


Details | Verse | |

Again

I walk into a room, invent myself again.
The old me, cast aside, wonders what was his sin.

He'll stand there for a moment, like the kid who wasn't picked.
A closely concealed quiver, on the newly freed me's lip.

But soon he'll find the others, who didn't make the grade.
All perfect life sized replicas of the changes that I've made.

They'll tell him of their plan to take my body back.
They try to get ahead of me so they can lay their trap.

They hide as I approach, as one they hold their breath.
But I reinvent myself again, and a copy's all they get.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Misconstrued

 
I am an ego-maniac
With a self-esteem issue
They call me a braniac
But I really need a tissue.


Details | Free verse | |

Situations

When we act playful 
And with a lot of sense of humor
Careless and irresponsible 
People or perhaps teachers
Never believe us when we screw up 
Or when we break a chair or something
But nevertheless
That doesn’t mean we can’t change 
People who tend to act with more responsibility
That hold a lot more serious face
A more admirable sensing look 
Those people whom teachers and other people believe
Can own their trust 
Nevertheless that doesn’t mean 
Those trustable people 
Those truthful people are out of all fun?
Now I began to understand God’s wise judgment
He puts the trustable people in situations
They can get out from
 But if He puts humorous irresponsible ones
It will be a hell of a time if they survived
God put us in situations that come with ease
To repay sinful ones…




Details | Free verse | |

Clocks

what strange wonderful clocks women are,
                        biological clocks,for they nest in time;
these gentle,smiling ones,
                         who own the good secret;
for what man,like wman,
                         lies down in darkness,
                                            and then gets up with child;
women,they make the flesh that holds fast,
                          and then binds eternity;
they live inside the gift,
                           they know the power,
                                              they accept it, and need not mention it;
for why speak of time,
                           when you are time,
                                               and can shape those moments into warmth, and action;
how often men envy them,
                           and, sometimes even hate them, these warm clocks;
for they know that they will live forever,
                            men know this too,but,does he really believe it;
for he has carried no burden,and felt no pain,
                             but,the woman,she knows it.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Stumbling, Bumbling Me


My shoes are too tight
My glasses too thick
My smile too straight
My stomach too sick.

I’m huffy and puffy
Apart at the seams
Lost in a shutter
Need some new dreams.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Purpose

Every single creature,
From the moment of its birth,
Has a reason for existence
On our humble planet earth.

Worms are bait for fishing;
Squirrels satiate the hawks.
Fishes feed flamingos;
Ducks make music with their squawks.

Crickets chirp a chorus;
Cows and chickens give us meat.
Bees make honey for the bears
And birds are here to tweet.

Lions balance zebras;
Sheep get shorn to give us wool.
Alligators gulp down prey
To keep their bellies full.

Butterflies spread beauty;
Beavers gnaw down extra trees.
Goats spend hours grazing
To produce that creamy cheese.

Every creature’s purpose,
And I guess this is a stretch,
Seems to outdo man’s intention,
Which appears to be – to kvetch*!

*to complain or whine


Details | Couplet | |

Chastushkas

Chastushkas

I would love to write a poem as hilarious as could be.
But it seems like funny poems will not come out of me.
So I practice my Chastushkas in hopes I will succeed.
A better sense of humor must be what I need.
I wish that I could buy one, but they are not in the store.
I have searched dictionaries and thesauruses galore.
I have looked along the freeway and down the country roads
But the funny inspirations seem to hop away like toads.
There are so many writers that have a humorous touch.
And I wish I had it, too… very much.
I guess I must remember to write down the funny things I see around.
Like the time I saw kids rolling, laughing wildly on the ground.
But until then, I’ll use my pen to hone my funny bone.
Writing those Chastushkas until I do not laugh alone…


 © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 19, 2010

Poetic form:  Couplets


Details | Rhyme | |

Cry Baby

I despise the man that I've become.
What have I become that I was not?
I despise my every single thought.
I despise myself much less than some.
I despise myself to suck my thumb.