Best 15 Minutes Poems
Beard looks weird,
that's a lyrical genius to be feared,
you wrote a 6 year song and got the facts wrong,
fired with the hair and safety still on,
I guess that scope's just a tele,
with sights and hopes on the tele,
Machine Bun Shelly,
initials, MBS, Caps empty,
Mostly Bull Sh……
a superficial sipping soup to his belly
or is it breakfast for a serial prodigy,
steadfast out selling cereal probably,
problems with his intellectual property
so he's just a prop to stop and see.
6'4 and standing taller,
picking on a man, his wife and his daughter,
who needs protection ay,
you're a big and bad ball-less brawler,
that's the shallowest level you can resort to,
and though it's none of my bees wax,
you did it to be witnessed and receive plaques,
but it was easy and witless like corny flakes,
the business doesn't need Autotune fakes,
forcing the rhyme like all you want is a smoke,
not literally you'd choke, that's such a weak joke,
clearly begging for your songs to be bought up,
as if we went from Shady please stand up,
to worshipping a hairband on a no flair brand corrupt
and yeah I admit some of it was good, generous, but look,
with 6 years to write it should have been off the hook,
this lame ass your best and you took as long as you could,
when your next hits out you'll remember when you last stood,
and you'll be mocked by the only line that was any good,
MGK can't stand up,
that'll get you like Cranbrook,
from Cleveland Ohio,
leave now and fly home.
Note the depth and the many double entendre in this,
written within an hour of hearing that diss,
MGK's peak, now for the diss-appearance,
I've heard you can't write your own lyrical sentence,
that's dense, how you ever gona go the distance,
now go into the distance with your spoon and bowl,
you had your 15 minutes so back to your hole.
Part 2: Picking the rhymes apart and taking a shot, on my page to read now.
* the second line is a double entendre,
a serious comment about Eminem and a sarcastic one about MGK, you know, cus rhyming beard and weird is amazing haa.
* Hair and safety clip on
* Just a tele, a telescope
* Initials - cus MGK initials but Eminem doesn't M&M
Knock, knock who's there in my bathroom?
Jan the princess of posterior interior transfer
Knock, knock who's there not in my hot tub?
Cheryl the magnificent moonlight moon pie muncher
Knock, knock who's there in the pickle barrel?
Dale the satisfied stickler for the wife of the pickler
Knock, knock who's there flushing eyes for 15 minutes?
John the Master of Disastrous WD-40 tears
Knock, Knock who's there walking around all comfortable?
Maureen the anxious advocate of flat, wide, comfy, shoes
Knock, Knock. Who's there out in the forest?
Kevin the observer of the great grizzly wet haired bear!
Knock, Knock Who's there on the highway
Julie the crazy copper hating motorcycle driving lizard lover!
Just who dares to talk about normal poets names
Pat the shameless poet names dropper is to blame!
Pussy (Vulnerabilities)
Pussy
Men sometimes put no value to sex and the sacred decision a woman might hold dear for the reason to
Submit options of letting you indulge in her essences. See some have had men all over the world and there is one thing for
Sure that pussy has a name never a face, Mumu , myse ,kisse, pepita, catellus, passera, mita it all mean
The same thing Pussy, pussy, pussy. And the truth of the matter is your sometimes not remembered or
Even thought about once you give the pussy up!
So guard and respect your pussy and you’ll be wiser for not giving it up, I thought of all the times I
Gave up my pussy and grieving the next day he was gone, nothing but a memory of the condom he either didn’t
Or did put on! I have disrespected my body for a moment of pleasure far too valuable to get rid of, and
The 15 minutes or less or if I’m lucky an hour of pleasure soon will be forgotten as he’s on to the next one
Or back with his main love or the one whose holding out, but she worth waiting for.
Pussy is abuse sometimes tainted with the smell of semen left inside you with your naïve ass, I’m not going
Anywhere imma be here for you, trust me so the pussy stinks reeks of disappointment!
As they get dressed to leave a delicate kiss on the forehead and a polite thanks for the pussy!
Don’t be this chick (hold out on giving up the Pussy, be known for your worth)
You’re so much more than ass or pussy! I now know my worth!
Written by Monica Chrisandtras Hines 9/16/2014
You have to be selective and or practice abstinence in order to be valued ,some women get lucky and he does come back the next day ,but for how long ? Men like to chase and if you give it up too easy its a waste of time ,hes no longer interested and will soon prowl for another ! Keep it to your self till the time is right ,if he won't wait then forget about him!
I stepped into a cow pie, back a year or so ago, and I did fuss and cry!
Or so I am told… Then I found a Dragon egg, and as you will surmise…
The plentitude and size of those pies, unfolded before my poor, sad eyes.
I pooper scooped alone, as they all ran from me and it, no matter what I tried.
There wasn’t enough fussing or money, that could bring them, into my crew.
It took a great big honking cart, behind a tractor to work the deed, it’s true
Dragon wouldn’t cooperate, to even remotely, pile it wherever I did need.
In fact, he buried my rose bed: as he covered it deep, in protest, at full speed.
I thought my teenagers had capped that rebel and protest thing, to an extreme.
OH, BOY! Have I become enlightened, to what a true protest can really mean!
Yep! And then he taught the neighbors Dogasaurus, to cover my dear, old Car!
Pitchfork handy, I chased them, as an incentive to unload in another place, so far!
That was inspired, I had gamely thought, until they dumped upon, poor little me.
I became known as the Dragon pie lady, and that was not a treat, I guarantee!
And yes, the paparazzi, put it on the front page as I got my 15 minutes of fame.
At this, Grandpa Troll came, to my much-needed aid, to help me stop this game.
He put us across the lake, from each other, in time out, until a deal was struck.
When Dragon’s fire finally gave out, he finally agreed to help clean up his muck.
Dragon agreed to ash all deeds, if I’d sell it as fertilizer to buy him more ice cream.
A bargain struck, peace reigned, and a fun incentive brought about our dreams.
The moral to my story is: Anyone can start a fight… But a fun incentive can be
Golden and bring the end to any plight.
Of My Love For You
I remember the first time I'd heard your voice. You had just dropped off a another dude, seen the good bye from you two girls up stairs, yet, I didn't pay attention.
And you came back and this time I'd caught something strange, he was 'old news', I however was getting all kinds of signals... I let that go. I had places to go, things I had to do... I was about to embark on a ambition of a dream of my own abilities. Throughout my whole existence on this planet, I'll have to 'prove' myself to me. I'll never care about myself, 'I' care about others. See, I've always known “I'm somebody”, promised to share with only one I give my heart to. Wasn't that you flirted with me cause your friend liked me, inviting me to a party at her apartment that I accepted. My first bad party, and I hadn't been there 15 minutes and already gotten screamed at by the same person that was supposedly interested in me? Time to go, before ' gets stupid' Cigarette, slowly as not to attract attention go outside, then clear, walk, (hell, I had a life to contend with..) Then, there you were, late at night, your car rolling beside me at a wake pace. In your resolve, I realize it was unmanly of me to keep up the (actually the first) argument. I was even 'more' impressed when 'you' alone stopped by to check on me the next day. We agreed on the party being a flop, and somehow from there... We started learning about one another.
I enjoyed your smiles while you read my silly writings, as I listened about your life, your children, your ex, your sister, your family, really? I met your ex, not good stock, and then one day I met your kids. in front of them, your entire family, each taking me aside, warning me. Okay, time to show who I am... I gave a list of phone numbers to your mother 'call if you want my credentials'. I'd been moved in two days prior, by an offer to do my laundry... Impressive words I recall, “bring it all”. [liked the 'here to help'] It took understanding but our bodies meshed well sleeping together. I greeted the kids, opening my heart, tearing down every wall (20 children hair clip's on my head, walking around to among the neighbor's) showing respect and honesty to everyone, it grew. I then, one day I said “I love you.” So, YOU are were the one...
Every year our vacation was always the same. Two
weeks of fishing, playing, eating and being together
on the river. We had no electricity, no TV, and we
all loved it. The four cousins had time to get to know
each other and to just be kids. In the woods, on the river,
building forts and damns, catching frogs, campfires,
and , of course, fishing.
One day, when everyone else had given up and the kids
were playing on the bank, I hooked on to a BIG one.
I started to scream and shout...they all gathered round
to urge me on, give me advise and to share my
glorious moment. My tackle was not rigged for
salmon, but we could soon tell that's what I had.
For at least 15 minutes I was a star, playing that
fish, back and forth, until he was close to the
bank and we could see that he was a monster..
a big reddish salmon.
My niece, who was about 10, jumped into the
water to help me land him, and then, disaster struck.
He spit the hook, flashed his tail, and off he swam.
We all stood there in stunned silence..not knowing
whether to laugh of cry. I did a bit of each.
The story has become the stuff of legends, the story of
Aunti/Mom and the "one that got away"..really, its
more the story of the bond of family and times that
were so precious.
For the One That Got Away contest...
*spot poetry written in 15 minutes or less about any random subject
There lay a button,
'neath the weather beaten tile,
Lay in it's dust, shadowed crust,
it had been there quite a while.
Hopeless trust amongst the feet
that scattered it abroad,
It dodged and hid itself for keeps,
in hopes 'twould not be trod.
It kept itself a distant force,
this button in the tile,
I picked it up to change its pace
and placed it in the pile,
Of buttons in my sheltered home;
'twould be so happy there
But who was I to criticize,
or place it anywhere?
Perhaps it was quite happy,
in its home away from tacks,
So I turned around,
and put it down,
It was happy to be back.
Moral: Don't assume that changing ones'
surroundings are always what THEY desire.
*spot poetry: Written in 15 minutes or less about any random subject.
Betwixt
Betwined
Beneath the tweed
lay the nasty pin
It pierced my toe without a need
My foot had lost again
Of all the places I should step
I landed on this pain
"Walkin' on pins and needles"
just doesn't mean the same
I merely stepped up to the lamp
To read the daily news
When all at once
The pin, it stuck
Submerged up through my shoe
And yelling out obscenities
I screamed these words in pain
"Either I get shoes with thicker soles
or ne'er read news again"
Panting, running, paying, fuming,
Bumping, swearing, hurrying, driving,
All because today is the thirty first
Of the month, why are we all nigh to burst!
Got to buy groceries, go the butcher
The dry cleaners, the florist, the baker,
Did i turn on the slow cooker?
Have guests coming at 8.00p.m still
On the road, home in 15 minutes – phone Will,
Darling, Did you collect the birthday cake,
There is a big accident, traffic hectic won’t make
It to pick it up – Yes sweetheart I have
Drive carefully the roads are crazy,
Looks like a storm brewing, weather drizzly and hazy.
As I arrive in our driveway it pours with rain,
And I drop a packet, which had the red wine, I stain
My clothes and the car seat, go have your shower,
Hubby says, relax, everything is under control,
Turned shower taps to their full strength and power
Exhausted, let the water run over my naked body
Till I feel refreshed, get dressed in my
Sexy black number,
And come downstairs, hubby gives me a wolf whistle,
Just wait till the guests leave he says, look at him
From under my lashes!
The aroma wafting from the stove is
Provocatively divine!
And next to the sofa is a glass of room
Temperature red wine.
Table is set, arrange flowers I brought in a vase,
Immediately, the bell goes ding dong,
It’s Cherry and Tim,
She couldn’t wait to show me her engagement ring,
Hot on their heels are Susan and Barry,
He has just asked Susan to him marry,
And last of all my twin sister Rina, arrives she’s wise,
With her new boyfriend in tow she bellows, Hi guys!
Fun was had and wine was drunk
Laughter abounded in the lounge and dining room,
We all forgot how tired we were and
It was end of the month, and all the media forecasted,
Was doom and gloom!
It was my birthday, turning forty, no turning back now,
Don’t regret a day of my life, bless the day I took my vow,
Happy birthday dear Mary, happy Birthday to you,
I felt blest had my hubby and sister present and select
Friends but few,
Mellow and happy and with certainly no one drunk,
Just four happy couples full of zest and funk!
Our guests began departing, in twos they left,
I slipped of my shoes and gave a big yawn,
Will picked me up, and must have undressed
Me – for all I remember is waking up to a peck
On my cheek,
And a scrumptious breakfast in bed,
I always knew I had picked the right guy to wed!
andy comes in campbell cans
tomato soup black, white, and red
squeezed out pop until it bled
art is all in andy's head
andy do you dare to dream
pinks and yellows, blues and greens
the day you popped onto the scene
do you know just what i mean
marilyn's golden in her day
elvis skates in figure eight's
64 the riot race
moon museum from outer space
andy smokes the cigarettes
andy crosses his long legs
yellow hair on top his head
is your 15 minutes up my friend
andy's made it all so clear
andy drew so we could hear
it has been too many years
andy can you paint my tears
Have I really been working on myself or did I just change from my work clothes to something more comfortable
Is this depression or is it just the pigment of my skin
Can I defeat you, detach from you or are you so fingerprinted to my thoughts that I'm simply running away from me
Sometimes I wish I could just escape me, myself wears a mask, and I am tired of getting dressed up just to still feel down
I'm black said my mind, I live in the shadows of sadness watching the sunlight from a distance
If only the heat from the suns smile would kiss me, maybe it would melt away my sadness
I'm black said my words, followed by you're different, they won't accept you, you don't fit in
I'm black says the mirror looking at a reflection of depression
I get so lost in my waning emotions my waxing moon can barely breathe
It's so cold that even the rays of light feel sad
I'm black, I'm depressed, I'm black, I'm oppressed, I'm black I'm obsessed with the idea of my feelings living on equal ground
I'm black, I'm depressed the two interchange while beginning to sound the same so much so I took depressions last name
When I look at me I see one broken piece
I can't find the rest of the lyrics to my song, maybe it's because the writer will never finish it
Maybe it's because I didn't cry enough to water my heart
I'm black, I'm dirt, but my soil is killing the last remaining rose
I am a rose with bloody red regrets for petals, I put my failures on a pedestal
So, every time I tried to look up it got me nowhere
I'm lost and I keep letting the grey line give me directions, because there's a thin line between joy and happiness, and in the middle is pity where you can find me
I'm black so they think I stole these 5 minutes of happiness, and so what if I did everyone deserves 15 minutes of fame and mine is coming soon
But right now, I just want to smile and actually feel the laughter hold me instead of the facade that hugs me like a long embrace
This morning I stopped running and looked depression in the face
My mind is not yours it is the Lord's
p.s. let the battle begin
When I’m watching the news these days,
I just can’t help but wonder why.
When all of the stories I see,
just makes me want to scream and cry.
They all claim to be an expert,
about how everything should be.
But the only thing reported,
is hate and negativity.
I know I ain’t the smartest man,
to ever shake a wooden stick.
When it comes to the government,
it really makes me so darn sick.
True, we can’t have a perfect world,
of that I’m pretty gosh darn sure.
When our choice on election day,
is between horse or cow manure.
One side says it’ll cost a quarter,
the other wants to spend a dime.
Can’t they just meet in the middle,
and save us all this wasted time.
No one can agree on nothing,
all they can do is poke and chide.
Argue about the simplest things,
even with those on their own side.
I know it should not bother me,
and it really should not matter.
But still, I just can’t help myself,
each time it just makes me sadder.
Seems like everyone nowadays,
wants their 15 minutes of fame.
Looks like the one way to get it,
is to find someone else to blame.
COOKING WITH JIM
actually, with him in spirit, in the kitchen
of his quaint brownstone on West 12th Street
in Manhattan, decades after his death.
And quite at home with him, I chop and slice;
bake, twice-baked potatoes — their skins crisping
to perfection; roast, the prime tenderloin of beef
he’d earlier instructed me to hand-rub with
coarsely ground black pepper and kosher salt.
(I used sea salt and that was ok with him.)
Right now, he’s reminding me to stir my roux,
then I should add the crisp bacon bits, made earlier,
to the finely chopped spinach I just finished sautéing.
He says I should wait till the last minute
to toss the mélange of local field greens with
the lemongrette he had me make in lieu of
vinaigrette, because, it seems that vinegar
often spoils the taste of wine. As for the wines
with dinner: for the salad, I’m chilling
a 2011 Seyval Blanc from New York State;
with the beef dish, a 10-year-old California
Zinfandel; this followed by a 2010 Pinot Noir
from Oregon, paired with artisanal cheeses
from Vermont and Connecticut, plus
crisp sourdough rolls and flatbread;
and, in the frig, chilling, a late-harvest, Long Island
Riesling to complement the secret confection hidden
away on a silver tray till dessert-time.
According to Jim, red wine should be served at
room temperature, and since older reds have a layer
of sediment in the bottle, he said the Zin will need
to be decanted, and that, right before serving;
he wants the Pinot to breathe 15 minutes, or so,
in the glass before being drunk.
(The aeration of younger reds will rid those wines of
their chalky tasting tannins.) All this for my guests
who’ll soon be sitting round my dining table akin to
Jim’s 60 inch round green marble slab of a tabletop,
where, before the first bite of the Jim-inspired,
5-star meal, I’ll raise my glass to the big bald guy —
James Beard, “The Father of American Cuisine.”
13
riding out the night
searching for that solar storm
instead, up ahead
columns of wind
breach the scene
green trees clobber the place
as bedlam pulls out the white swords
and once again it's on
808 Boom!
808 Boom!
808 Boom!
moonlight exsanguinated
even though it was full as can be
no sign of Jason Voorhees either
maybe he's graduated from the mask
this place ain't so scary
I said,
"THIS PLACE AIN"T SO SCARY!"
(stirring up the devils)
only 15 minutes 'till we're in the clear
Saturday 14 is near
©2014 ~JSL PoetTreez Publishing
Well oh well were do I begin. When I was three and half they put me in the news
paper for autism but during that time it was called development delay. One in every 45
kids have autism to date. My mom still question to today why was I first in the program
to be put
in the news paper. What the doctor told my mom was one day in my twenties he will
surpass his classmate in learning. Well I went college and I was the worst student by the
end of graduate I was one of there best student. During take Trigonometric and
Precalculus
I did two assignment in 15 minutes which shock the entire tutor lab held by teacher they kept
informing me about universities.
In middle school I was a PPR helper kept thinking isn't this supposed be done by
high school students. And most importantly why was my name on the roster for
try out's for basketball. What I later learned was it is a difference between off a dribble
and screen pass shoot who knew. And why do the people in my city call me
Mr.Borgo I am
not that much older then them. And Ironic as it sound something I think about is that they lost
At state by three points.
Well to me if the nets don't twist up it like never went in. All I ask is
please tell me I'm Lying. Maybe I shouldn't went home bound. Who knew the future of
education would have a lot of autism kids. All I can say is Sony was one of my best friend
a child could ask for.
Holy06 The Ghost Was Here. Reedit sooner or later.