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Best Satire Poems

Below are the all-time best Satire poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Satire poems written by PoetrySoup members

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A SATIRE by Grenness , Julie
BEDLAM WAR SATIRE by jimmy boom semtex, nick armbrister
Modern Driver Education - a Satire by Camp, Elton
A satire to the famous politician by Faith, Edoja
The Pond Called Love: A Sort of Short Satire by Hartley, Cameron
Free Dog To Good Home: A Biting Satire by Camp, Elton
The Deception of The American Public - A Satire by Camp, Elton
Down With Bad Stuff - A Satire by Camp, Elton
WORDS GONE RAG a satire by Anderson-Throop, Victoria
sister satire by pierre louis, angelo

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The Best Satire Poems

Details | Satire Poem | |

23 warning signs that you are severely addicted to poetrysoup dot com



1) Since you have such a crazy drive to post every thought which goes through your mind, you consider posting your grocery lists.

2) You come up with another lame senryu just to post something new(and create a cheap entry for yet another contest).

3) Even though you post everything which comes to mind, post 3+ poems per day, every day, you believe all of your posts to be exemplary pieces.

4) (in relation to #3) You believe all of the "This is a masterpiece!" comments left on your poems, to be completely sincere.

5) You have the tendency to ignore that you are nearing 60 years of age. You put up avatars of yourself, circa 1971, and flirt with nearly every Souper below the supposed age of 30.

6) Instead of having a romantic evening with your significant other, you end up surfing the Soup blogs and drooling over member avatars.

7) After being single for 15 years, a completely compatible person asks you on a date. You decline the offer, end up surfing the Soup blogs and drooling over member avatars.

8) The admin makes an announcement concerning site maintenance, how the site might be down for 24 hrs -- upon reading the announcement, your stomach drops-out, you are filled with a phantasmagoric sense of doom which escalates into a bout of nihilism so strong, you consider methadone treatment to prepare yourself for the upcoming site-shutdown.

9) You begin methadone treatment in preparation for the two hours you will be away from the Soup(and awake)attending your best friend's funeral.

10) Your sleep-time has drastically altered to less than 4 hours of sleep per night. This is for various reasons, one of these being that every week you feel the need to leave a minimum of 1000 comments on poems, so whenever you post something new, the 'return' comments on said post, help push it up the 'Top 100 Recent Poems' list. You consider this to be an accomplishment akin to winning the Nobel Prize in Literature. You are awesome.

11) Instead of watching your favourite soap opera on the booby, you follow the soaps happening between Soupers in the blogs.

12) Every time you get a splinter, you have a strong urge to put up a blog about it to gain support and sympathy during your ordeal.

13) You put up blogs telling members that you are going to be 'gone' for 2 days, and apologize for not "being there for everyone" while away from the site.

14) After not seeing daylight for months on end, you put up a blog about seeing the most amazing thing .... you finally went outside and saw this blazing orb in the .... in the .... in the whatchamacallit, sky?

15) You forget to say "Merry Christmas!" to your family at home, but 'say' it in the Christmas blog that you put up on the Soup.

16) You forget your significant other's Birthday, but remember the Birthday of your favourite 'platonic' Souper.

17) Whenever you see or hear the word "Soup", your palms become itchy and you can barely contain yourself from using a computer/phone to login to poetrysoup.com.

18) You believe that if a poem rhymes, it is automatically a decently written poem.

19) In desperation, your family members and friends create accounts on the Soup, believing this to be the only way left to interact with you. In return, you have your account deleted and open a new one under an assumed pen-name.

20) You make the rounds each new day leaving "Good Morning!" comments on your friend's poems.

21) You go on vacation to an exotic beach location. The weather is gorgeous. The water is wonderfully warm. The sand is splendid. You don't swim in the wonderfully warm water. You don't take in the sights of the beach. You barely even notice the beach. Instead, you log onto the Soup via your laptop/phone.

22) Your children are hungry. You barely even know who your children are anymore. You don't care. *click* *clickety-click*

23) Your significant other finally offers to "do THAT thing"(yes, THAT one!)you've always fantasized him/her doing with you, but until now, he/she has always refused to fulfill for you. Now .... you don't care. *click* *clickety-click* 










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More great poems below...


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Halloween on the Dark Side of Town

It's a nightmare down on Elm Street. Satan's waiting here at home.
Where's that little Freddy Krueger with his nails of sharpened chrome?
And that dearest Michael Myers, as he's always sure to call?
Halloween won't be so keen without some slashers in the hall.

They're all meeting up with Jason and the other demon spawn
to pay Old Scratch a visit, so I'll leave the porch light on.
I'm your sugar devil daddy and I'll tempt you if I can,
so now open up those goody bags, cause I'm your candy man.

Welcome, all you little zombies. Here, I've got some flesh for you!
It's in a candy wrapper and so much easier to chew.
Just hold out your plastic treat bag, and hold off eating me.
The junk I'm gonna give you tastes much better than my knee.

It's so loaded up with sugar, you'll be bouncing off the walls.
So go ahead and gorge yourselves and fill the bathroom stalls.
Kneel before the porcelain god or use the toilet sink.
You can always use the practice now, for later when you drink.

You can't take a piece of healthy fruit or any home-made treat.
The media have made damn sure it's only junk food that you'll eat.
So celebrate my holiday and consume till it's obscene.
Welcome into my domain... and Happy Halloween!

October 15, 2014

Details | Satire Poem | |

Mirror, Lie to Me

I stare at my mirror
So shocked by what I see
There is a strange woman
Staring right back at me

I must’ve been abducted
This must be a crazy trick
For the reflection that I see
Is making me quite sick

Are those horrid wrinkles?
Is that a double chin?
The neck that was my joy
Is pillar like- not thin!

My eyes have no sparkle
They look listless and glazed
Perhaps it’s hard to focus
When I feel so dazed

Maybe it’s just a dream
From which I will awake
For how could that be me?
I’m sure it’s just a fake

I pinch myself real hard
The mirror woman screams
Oh no, it must be true
Now both of us cry streams

Mirror, you’re a traitor!!!
Mirror, this is a crime!!!
I order you to hide!!!
The tell-tale signs of time!!!

Do me a small favor
Tell me a little lie
Reflect a younger me…
Oh please, give it a try!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Details | Satire Poem | |

Quo Vadis poetry, a damsel in distress-w

Captive damsel of creative-writing programs,   
Personalized, eulogized job of small groups,  
The frenetic activities handy to very few,  
Poetry now belongs to a subculture hew. 

We have accredited professional poets,   
Creative writing teachers at all levels,  
Composing computer- created poetry, 
Creating illusion of the Golden Age artistry. 

These professional poets have secured
Their own niches in the academic world, 
They cry over the spilt milk like jackals
Snarling over a dried-up well with no aims.

Quantitative work is guaranteed success,
Accuracy, meaning, technique matters less. 

=================================
Fourth place winner
Contest: Poetry for poetry's sake of Paula Swanson
Quo Vadis is a Latin phrase meaning "Where going"

Details | Satire Poem | |

The Circles

Looked at the outside of steel window
Around in the dark, awesome feelings into the mid-night air
What the news was brought in the feelings!

Eyes of the orphan cat was flaming on the corridor.

Waiting for the light in the window 
Dark vision comes down into my eyes by cycle-weariness
Down from one circle to another circle in time-blindness

Who stands here, the Islamic old man!
Frustrated vision!
History of terrorism was carved on his burnt body
He wants to say something!

A white-complexioned Christian young man stands into the neighbor circle,
Surprised eyes! 
White-skinned history was printed on his blood-stained body 
He wants to know something!

A dark-colored Hindu boy stands into the third circle, 
Illusive vision!
History of third world is awakened on his envenomed body
He wants a little smile!

The old man, young man and boy are coming forward from the circles
Great distance... Near ...in front the room... 
Who are you? No reply
They disappear into the tuberose equipped black and white photo of my father
Dad is smiling, I am senseless! 

Tears are dropping from the eyes of our cat on the corridor.

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA

More great poems below...


Details | Satire Poem | |

Politician Chops A Tomato In His Kitchen, Another Politician Sips Tea In His Second Kitchen

Politician chops a tomato
in his kitchen
Now he's chopping a lettuce
in his kitchen
He's saying things at the same time
in his kitchen

He's endowed with multi-skilled sets
Yes he must live in the real world I've guessed
He can chop a tomato
And then a lettuce
And talk at the same time
I've never chopped a lettuce in my life
in my kitchen
I have chopped a tomato though
But it wasn't in my kitchen
It was in someone else's
kitchen
It was a pretty weird situation
That pretty weird kitchen situation is for another poem
And probably one you won't want to read
if  I'm being honest
So I won't be honest..honest.

Well that tells us all we need to know
I'm convinced
I always wondered whether he could chop a tomato
in his kitchen
It's not easy at the best of times
You know that
I know that
Let's not pretend
And he did it all in front of the cameras
in his kitchen
Chopping a lettuce truly earns my respect
And should earn yours too
A man who can chop a lettuce and talk about not wanting to be prime minister for a third term
When he's still in his first
To think that far ahead
in his kitchen
While chopping a tomato
and then a lettuce
in his kitchen
Talking at the same time
in his kitchen
About not wanting to be prime minister for a third term
When he's still serving his first
That truly earns my respect
Like watching a marine punch a gazelle..

And regardless of whoever's kitchen I happen to be in
Were I to be in your kitchen for example
I would feel that same swell of admiration
And I promise I would never chop a tomato
in your kitchen
And definitely not a lettuce
Just in case you're wondering
I don't eat lettuce
And even if I did
I would never chop it in your kitchen
Even if I were to be in a really bad mood..

And here's another politician
This one is in his second kitchen
Conversing with his wife while drinking tea
in his second kitchen
I know that could never be me
I don't have a first wife and I don't have a second kitchen
(and I don't really sip tea for I'm an uncouth gulper
probably my Indian upbringing)
Thus I could never be a democratic socialist leader
Although I'd like to be
Who could believe in me
When I don't have a second kitchen to sip tea in
with a wife which I don't have
Listening attentively to my democratic socialist thoughts
While sipping tea which I wouldn't sip anyway
Being more of an uncouth gulper probably because of my Indian upbringing
in my second kitchen
which I also don't have..

To be that man who can sip tea so nonchalantly
Not even in his first kitchen
But in his second kitchen
The one that he's not used to sipping tea in
That's beyond the call of duty
So beyond you
And me
So who really lives in the real world
Well I think that's plain to see


http://sukispangles.blogspot.co.uk

Details | Satire Poem | |

A Fool and His Life Are Soon Parted

Oh how sad, oh how glum,
Goodness gracious prater comes.
Writing winsome words of woe,
Endlessly stopping, never to go.

Whiling away the endless hours;
Scribbling sigils, clawing, I cower.
Oh how sad, oh how glum,
Goodness gracious prater comes.

Envy those not thus engaged.
Envy the prattle on the page;
Stroked, petted, tilled and hoed;
Fields ‘pon fields, rows ‘pon row.

Oh how sad, oh how glum,
Frantic fretting, fear comes.
Wading through the endless nights;
Waiting, waiting for the light.

Writing, writing, scratch and scribble;
All this soulless, mindless, drivel.
Writing, writing, writing on;
‘Till the coming of the dawn.

Details | Satire Poem | |

Cyber real

Has the convenience of technology 
inoculated us from reality?
Do androids dream of electric sheep?
I pray the code my soul to keep?
Does your universe live within 4G
Or megapixel infinity?
Which memory lies within
The one that was
Or the one that's been
Or how much gig how much ram?
Which reality is true?
Cyber me
Or cyber you?
Cyber bully
Cyber crime
Cyber hate 
Cyber time?
Cyber boxer
Or cyber brief?
Who is the real identity thief?
Cyber pleasure
Cyber pain
Hours spent glaring into the screen
Choosing an alternate username.
Status updates and trending tweets
Fill your mind and rob your sleep.
Clever hashtags and Instagram 
Will shape your image and gain more friends.
Is the you you've shaped in cyberspace 
The same you I'd see face to face?
We hide behind our computer screens
And criticize with brutal ease.
Virtual reality
Is buying souls of men you see 
And robbing the ability to dream real dreams.
I want to conquer something real
That I can grab that I can feel.
I want to touch life and hold on tight
I want to unblock true friends
And "like" real sights.
I want conversation face to face
In real world time
In a real world place.

Details | Satire Poem | |

My butt crack

My butt crack 
Is quite a split 
It supports the rest of me 
when I sit 
you thought I was gonna say something else didn't you ?

My butt crack 
Is a marvel to behold 
It was cute when I was young 
but now offensive since I'm old 

My butt crack 
Is pretty darn straight 
can you imagine if it was crooked 
pretty weird sight I would rate 

My butt crack 
Is funny to me 
when I bend over in my jeans 
It peeks out 
for you to see 

My butt crack 
wanted me to write this today 
for no other reason 
then just to say......................

I gotta split 


LOL 

Eric (and sometimes not)

Details | Satire Poem | |

Granny Panty Annie, the Tranny

Lemme tell ya' about a
*ding-bat skit-zo 
bee-hotch* tranny
named Annie...

I met her one night 
under disco lights 
up at Candies

She was 
starin' at me
grittin' her teeth
aimin' ta' see 
if I wanted a piece
of he 
OR
of she 
by way of flashin' granny panties

She was
shootin' pool
actin' a fool
so I 
took a shot
and one tiny glance 
but got caught

So I
lit up a smoke
and tried to play it off cool
but it was too late
she had pulled up a stool

She slurred,
"Hey young felluh, where ya' been all my life!"

I replied, 
"Sorry to burst yir' bubble, but I got a wife!"

"That don't matter kid, what she don't know won't hurt the girl" 
as she fisted my collar and yelled, "I'LL ROCK YIR' WORLD! Annie the Tranny is what they call me. Bet you been wanted ta' bone me since you first saw me!"

Fear and frustration danced on my face
I begged the bouncer to 
"Get this he/she outta the place!"

My pleas were to no avail, 
and that sea donkey lurked hot on my trail
flailin' it's arms and grindin' bar stools with it's tail

Speakin' of tails...
a shiny blue wale tail crept up her back
Her jeans were mean, but couldn't hold her underwear's elastic slack
but at least it beat feastin' eyes upon her crack
then she... 
wrapped her grimy hands around my neck and asked, 
"You n' me, boy, what the heck!?!"

I screamed,
"Look here lady, you seem real nice for a tranny;
but...
ya' see...
ya' need 
to hit the bricks,
you
and yir' Granny Panties!"

At that point the joint started to really heat up
people were glarin' like they really wanted me beat up
I can't recall how the hell I got out of there 
alive and free
it was like a big manly freight train
headin' dead at me

I'm pretty sure I owe the good Lord a big favor
that beast was the devil
and Jesus was my Savior!

It's a night I thought would never end... 
the night at Candies Bar n' Grill
Granny Panty Annie got a thrill 
tryin' to make me her sexy friend!!!




Details | Satire Poem | |

The Soup Reich


The Fuhrer's deceit is baked with OCD tendencies,
one hand doling it out to the masses,
while the other hand places more checkpoints
along the already tightly surveilled perimeter.

The Fuhrer's Souper Troopers, Gestapo and Souparazzi
scour the Soup halls for any anomalies,
for any Resistance Fighters of literature
who might distract the masses' attention

away from the Fuhrer's spotlight. And there! Hark
the Herald Demons, the Head Pig pounds the podium,
refocuses the little piggies' minutely distracted attention
with tales of fearful monsters, uniting the crowd

against a common enemy. 

Divide the mind, to conquer it. "Divide and Conquer,"
whisper the Fuhrer's elite henchmen
as they send-out another wave of soupmail propaganda,
while running fingers across the mustaches dangling

from their rat-faces like miniature toupees meant for 
the now-aged Ken dolls stricken with cancer from eating 
too many GMO Swastika corn-dogs and Huns.burger Helper --
cannibalistic swine eating their own kind. "Sieg Heil!" 

The little piggies devour Swastika slop from their troughs:
big lies broken down, fed to them over time
until they squeal dolefully, piggies wrapped in blankets
waiting for another bribed lullaby to help them fall asleep.

Poor little piggies. Believing themselves to have no talent
of their own, they ride on the barbeque sauce coat tails of a 
one-trick pony-pig Fuhrer -- selling short their own deserved
spotlight to a fugazi masquerading as a 24 Carat saint.







July 22nd, 2013

________________________________________________________



"Take the greatest deceits, decorate them with gold and hand them out as gifts. 
When the masses have swallowed the contents, you can make these people 
believe and do anything." - Adolf Hitler
 
 "The more we do to you, the less you seem to believe we are doing it."
- Dr. Joseph Mengele

"The most common characteristic of all police states, is intimidation by surveillance. Citizens know they are being watched and overheard. Their mail is being examined. Their homes can be invaded. When citizens alter their natural conduct via the fear of being watched, truth becomes suppressed when public discussion turns into whispers." - Vance Packard

"To silence satire, is to silence freedom." - Sidney Hook

“The true essence of a dictatorship is in fact not its regularity, but its unpredictability and caprice; those who live under it must never be able to relax, must never be quite sure if they have followed the rules correctly or not.” 
- Christopher Hitchens, Hitch-22: A Memoir

“The first truth is that the liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerate the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than their democratic state itself. That, in its essence, is fascism -- ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power." 
- Franklin D. Roosevelt


*Author's Note: This satire does not involve the TPS administration.





+/-

Details | Satire Poem | |

My Slutty Aunt's Wedding

I shook my head
Knew the day’d be messy
Some poor sap
Was marrying my Aunt Bessie

She’d slept with half of Brooklyn
Flaunting her exploits all through town
The mayor, the banker, the deli clerk
Even the birthday party clown

A wedding gown, so fitted
Her bellybutton showed
Boobs shoved up high enough
To violate building code

Minutes before the shindig
She pulled me on the roof
Snatched a flask from her garter belt
Downing one hundred ninety proof

She wanted to call it off
No way she could comply
To promise for all her life
To only screw one guy

I told her she could do it
Like many other people do
She finally calmed down 
And made her wedding day debut 

She stumbled down the aisle
Tripping on her gown
Her daddy kept her steady
‘til the pastor stared her down

She blushed but pulled together 
Long enough to give her vows
After the ceremonial kiss
Everyone went to carouse

Letting loose at the reception
She danced with all the boys
Twirling, flashing, grinning
Making all kinds of noise

I’d like to say things ended well
That monogamy she would master
But before the night was over
She got naked with the pastor

For Andrea's "Show Me the Funny" Contest


Details | Satire Poem | |

The Endless War

(not to take too seriously; I think I am immune 
to my "enemies" by now!)

How near to us are foes we can’t resist
when cells, like terrorists that we can’t see
accumulate!  What parasites exist
within our very homes!  We can’t be free
of them, and even the perfectionist
can’t rid his castle of the enemy.
They have no need of camouflage.  They breed, 
for on those cells sloughed off our skin they feed!

Though microscopic, they are numberless.
For those with allergies, the “mighty” mite
can wreak some damage. Nasty, they possess
the air we breathe, the beds we use at night!
And they will never simply evanesce. . . 
To kill them off requires a constant fight,
but no one, sadly, perfectly defeats
them, even vacuuming and changing sheets!

Inside the fridge, on counters, in the sink
lurk others. Do not be too much at ease.
The very sponge you’re using, which you think
is helping, could be spreading a disease!
Who knows what swarms in water that we drink,
on spinach leaves or just a piece of cheese?
How fleet is time; how bleak to have to spend
it on a war  we know will never end!

Details | Satire Poem | |

Egos on Display

So many people complain when they lose

To gain better rankings, judges they schmooze

And if they don’t place, their egos are bruised

They even use blogs simply to recuse

To some extent, these attacks may amuse

But their true intent is to light a fuse

Comments from favor seekers surely ooze

Superlatives they always overuse

They don’t know how to give honest reviews

“Luv” is a word they quite often misuse

Seeking to have their poems perused

But tell them the truth and they’ll sing the blues

It’s a game of getting comments and views

If you don’t play, they will transfuse

Words of anger from an inadequate muse




Details | Satire Poem | |

Keep It Turnin' to the Right

Oklahoma cowboy, tough coal miner’s son
Born in Henryetta, south of Tulsa some
Raised by daddy’s momma, taught him wrong from right
Daddy taught him ropin’, taught him how to fight
 
Herding made no money, its stock was really down
Mamaw feeling poorly, dad mining at Old Town
December seventeenth, in the year of twenty-nine
Dad was shoring timber, 9th west entry of the mine
 
The gas ignited close to him, he never smelt its breath
It belched out fire and thunder, and everlasting death
Sixty-one they counted, who wouldn’t see the sun
Twenty-five weren't recognized, they buried them as one
 
On that fatal Tuesday, the boy became a man
Had to make a living, had to have a plan
Heard about the oil patch, got a chance to try it
Drill the earth for all she’s worth; keep it turnin' to the right

Some they called him weevil, some they called him worm
Some they wouldn't speak to him, figgered he was just short term
They told him "Open up that vee door; go to get the key
It's in the possum belly, in doghouse number three"

Took his turns at floor hand, at first a little green
Became the fastest broke out hand the driller ever seen
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right

The driller called him partner; the pusher called him son
The other roughnecks shook his hand, and took him in as one
Got up on the monkeyboard; learned to spin the chain
Pumped that mud and shed his blood, and worked right through the pain

On a bitter frosty evening tour, in a cold December snow
He saw derricks lit like Christmas trees in distance far below
He saw the fairyland of the refinery, shining through the night
He saw Mother Earth and the universe, all turning to the right

The oil patch was a hard life, moving all the time
But he saved a lot of money, didn't waste a dime
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right

Sent his kids to college, working through the years
One became a teacher, the others engineers
He hung up his hardhat; he shed his steel-toed shoes
Then one day he passed away; he'd finally paid his dues

Made it to the Pearly Gates; they handed him his wings
Handed 'em right back to them; said "I don't need these things.
I want to do some drilling. That's my heavenly plan."
They said "Go talk to the Devil then, cause he's the company man."

Old Scratch needed hellfire; he always come up short
Too many politicians and others of that sort
When he heard they had a driller, he jumped up with delight
He danced a jig, "You've got your rig. Keep it turnin' to the right."

Now he drills for hellfire; in the derrick he's got Jake
Buck and Sam on the platform; Sonny's on the brake
They all grin like demons; they're all where they belong
Doing what they love to do, they sing their roughneck song

"We all eat caliche and drink the devil's brew
Play dominos with Satan and skunk him at forty-two
Work all day on Sunday and honky-tonk all night
We're oilfield trash and we'll take cash to keep it turnin' to the right

We all love West Texas; it's like the Promised Land
Horny toads and rocky roads, and even dunes of sand
Dust storms every morning, northers every night
We get tans and freeze our cans to keep it turnin' to the right"

The lingo used around the rig you won't hear much in church
It'll curl your hair and make you stare and leave you in the lurch
So close your eyes and realize it's gonna get much worse
Drink your beers and plug your ears; here comes the final verse

"We p*ss longneck Lone Stars; we f*rt Frito pie
Give us ****, and we will spit some Red Man in your eye
Don't **** with us, or we will cuss and bring you to the fight
We're low class, but we kick *** to keep it turning to the right"

8/10/2012
Coal mining, oil drilling and Hell - Doesn't get much darker and deeper...

Details | Satire Poem | |

Facebook

Friends

Acting

Crazy

Everyone

Being

Of

One

Kind

Details | Satire Poem | |

America: A Rant with Attendant Anecdotes, Amplifications, Dogmas, Harangues and Digressions

This ain't my first rodeo, so knowing the score more than four
I declare in this manure-flinging system of elected despotism
we ain't got no permanent friends, just permanent interests.
America's a dazzling chupacabra of a conceit
conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition
that shades of equality increase the gross market share.
We supplant the visible etchings of the colonial lash
with the invisible ones of debt by procuring more *****we don't need.
Breathless canaries in a cultural coal-mine,
fascicled to Breaking Bad, Mad Men and the Simpsons,
shackled to Amazon 's 'Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought'
we're driven out toward the oceans beneath Europa's baker's sugar crust
where freedom exists on a mono-cellular level
but knowing we 're not alone doesn't amount to manure 
cuz they ain't Christian microbes so they ain't gonna be no use to us.
Like wind before the thunder the supple susurrus of my heart 
sends frissons of pleasure jolting though my *****
bloated to such Brobdingnagian dimensions
as to feel at home in the hallowed aisles of Costco or Sam's Club.
Our finger wagging Uncle has overstayed his welcome,
So **** your tired, your poor -
you're taking away jobs from real Americans.
**** your huddled masses yearning to breathe free -
your emergency room doctor visits are costing taxpayers $2286 a pop.
**** the wretched refuse of your teeming shore -
we already have enough garbage to fill our landfills
Just gimme my VIZIO 80” Razor LED™ 3D Smart TV  for my eye candy
Gimme my  Google Nexus 8 cell phone cuz Steve Jobs can suck my dick
Gimme my Fidelio X1 headphones so I don't miss the subtle nuances in Willie Nelson's 
Gimme my Nestlé Crunch Girl Scout candy bars for my sweet tooth and latent pedophilia
Gimme my Dial Triple Moisture Body cuz my balls got a stank like 3 day old crawdads
Gimme my Quilted Northern Ultra Plush toilet tissue cuz my ass needs TLC and backdoor action
Gimme my Fruit Smoothie Shakers so I don't have to get gouged by some turban mofo at Jamba Juice
Gimme my Gillette Fusion ProGlide Power Razor so I don't look like Jesus-F-Christ or a sandnigger
Gimme my Lash Factor Eyelash Conditioner cuz flirtatious love winks should be unconditional

America's soul is shrinking and vanishing like glaciers.
Grackles ebonize the sky where once proud eagles soared.
With God's help, America will rise again like the body of Christ after a good whooping!
Come on y'all - don't let my patriotic rant spoil a perfectly good Klan rally.

Details | Satire Poem | |

Goodbye, Saint Joseph's School -- Elton John

*Sung to the tune of Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.”  Intended to be taken 
humorously.  


“When are you gonna grow up?
It is in jail you will land
You’ll have to stay after class
And I’ll be talking to your old man”


     “You know you can’t hold me forever
     The last school bus is now due
     You can’t rap my knuckles with your ruler now
     Stand in my way and I’ll just run through
     So nah, nah, nah…

     “So goodbye, St. Joseph’s School
     Where the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ were cruel
     The Catholic school’s finally closing
     The lunchroom’s stopped serving gruel

     “I’m taking that bus, might never get off
     Don’t want to face my Dad’s wrath
     Oh, I’ve finally decided to free myself
     And set out on my own path
     So nah, nah, nah…”


“How can you earn a living?
You can’t even spell your name
You’ll be required to take some remedial courses
And stop playing silly head games”


     “Maybe you’ll get a new convent
     I hear there’s some room in Brazil
     Students there might appreciate
     A no-nonsense sister with a voice shrill
     So nah, nah, nah…

     “So goodbye, St. Joseph’s School
     Where the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ were crude
     The altar boys have been set free
     The priests are no longer lewd

     “I’d like to stay, watch them raze it
     The site with torture imposed
     Where skeletons still hide in the closets
     Nevermore to be exposed
     So nah, nah, nah…”



*For John Heck’s “Dear John” contest.  
Those of us who attended St. Joseph’s just learned the school is being closed.  
Although a good education was provided, some students were beaten there repeatedly.  
I feel a good education was provided, but they went overboard with discipline.  

Details | Satire Poem | |

I Am The World's First Selfie Poem

I am the world's first selfie poem,
Held aloft by the world's first selfie poem stick,
A look-at-me wordsmith pic,
Here I am fluttering beside Tower Bridge.

So here I pose on the left bank;
Here I'm by the Eiffel Tower,
Here I selfie seductively next to the shower.
Ignore the bidet -
Admire my framed parchment hanging above a plastic flower
pot.

Here I am analysed by a poet I barely know,
Here I repose at a jazz festival amid falling snow;
Fractal flake dew blushes my paper skin,
Ink suggestively oozing, blotting,
Have I been crying or exercising?

Here I am tender and damp,
Here I am sunbathing, drying beneath a lava lamp,
My words florescent and glowing,
Quite becoming, a little knowing.

Do my words look big in this?
Are my right words in the wrong order
a hit or a miss?
Am I a PUA verse,
Or a try-hard blow-hard piece of doggerel, cursed?

Here I'm a selfie poem looking for love,
Not a one-night-stand performance poem only read once,
Then abandoned, carelessly tossed away, orphaned on the street,
Clasped by a refuse collector with his selfie poem collecting stick,
Torn,
Unshared,
To be recycled, reincarnated, cared for, repaired..?

(for more of my humorous poetry go to: http://sukispangles.blogspot.com)


Details | Satire Poem | |

Opinion


Every one’s got an opinion
We are entitled to our views
But, we won’t all agree the 
Difference often times are 
Huge
Somehow the simpler the 
Problem harder the 
Moot
Layering instead of issues 
Open wounds
And personalized attacks 
Are used
A point of contention is
The deliberate disguising of
The truth 
Distorting facts
Figures assembled by rote
Really there are a lot to be
Desired
Having regards to the distance
Between what had first prompt 
The opinion
And the reasoning that led
To this irrational tirade and suit
A stuck in a bog like situation
Ensue 
Like the dreaded dream state 
Being awake and can’t speak 
Move or do what you want to
While the root rot
The debates rambles on 
Unable to; save quip,
Get a grip on solid ground
Consensus pursuit 

Details | Satire Poem | |

footle..Visit To The Dentist.

The fear
In here ..
                  The chair
                  "Don't care "..
                                              Sore gum
                                              Lip numb..
                                                                " MUST DRILL
                                                                  THEN FILL " ..
                                                                                        " Less speed
                                                                                          I'll  bleed " ..
                                                                                                                Preserve
                                                                                                                Your  nerve ..
"I've bled"
Jaw dead ..
                  " RINSE PLEASE"
                    Weak knees ..
                                             The bill
                                             Plus pill ..
                                                               Can't eat
                                                              No teeth ..
                                                                                    Unchewed
                                                                                    Soft food ..
Can't talk
Slow walk
                    Perchance
                    Soiled pants ?..
                                            Mistake
                                            Toothache  !!.....
footle-note ..
The author would like to confirm that no deaths occured , during the creation of this piece. All 
suffering was kept to a minimum,as the surgery was sound-proofed .Pain and suffering , 
caused to waiting patients , was due to being forced to read 3yr old mags. Seemingly the 
news was less dire back then.All enamel&blood stained swabs were dumped in the 
appropriate utensils,as per Geneva Convention(section ix, site xxxiv).The cleansing of soiled 
underwear took place ,under supervision, with enviroment friendly detrgents & all offending 
materials disposed of , in accordance with the KyotoAgreement(section mlx11).
Must dash !! , as I have to visit that other sadist, the vet ,with our cat.He is due for the snips! 
( the cat , not the vet ).. Here Tom..Pshhhwshhh ..

Details | Satire Poem | |

Class Reunion

Fifty-year class reunions are stricken with sadness:
Former classmates falling apart before my eyes.
Jane uses a walker, and Stan exhibits madness.
Wages of age foreshadow classmates’ demise.

In youth’s green age I could not fathom this,
A time when peers would be withered and worn.
How I wonder could life have gone so amiss?
Surveying the scene, my heart is heavy, torn.

I give proud thanks that I’m not like the others,
Having been spared of time’s toxic touches.
“But what has befallen my sisters and brothers?”
I ponder the question as I reach for my crutches.


Details | Satire Poem | |

50 Shades of

50 shades of therapy
50 shades of restraining orders
50 shades of rejection
50 shades of addiction
50 shades of suicide
50 shades of rainy days
50 shades of cloudy ways
50 shades of jazz and blues
50 shades of painful memories
50 shades of wartime wounds
50 shades of political doom
50 shades of curtains and drapes
50 shades of a lovers disgrace
50 shades of cereal box tops
50 shades of graveyard graves
50 shades of wistful thoughts
50 shades of pure silk white
50 shades of legal fights
50 shades of everyday light
50 shades of tasteful delights
50 shades of pure sheer fright
50 shades of milking cow
50 shades of milking an idea
50 shades of comical prose
50 shades of sunglasses
X 2
Cause I am tired

50 shades of age

Details | Satire Poem | |

Crossed Me At The Borderline, Just In Time

-------------------------------------- ~*note: done in fun and aimed at no one~  



try and seed my name you'll concede to shame
no use in calling names to lose the game

yir' ill will is just plain disastrous 
asinine avatars deserve an asterisk

as for being fact-less, your slaps don't diss
every lick you spit simply tends to miss

harmless words that curse, rehearsed childishness
gets your face erased and they'll say who's next

as defilement arrives inside your text
that's when shame wheels you back, right to the nest.


~10 syllables in each of 10 rhyming lines~

Details | Satire Poem | |

Write a Song of Freedom

take:
a pocketful of rice
a handful of millet
a roll of the dice

put it in a tin can
wrap it up with tape
tie on a wooden spoon
to shake it for a price




14.12.2013