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Don't stop! The most popular and best Ape poems are below this new poems list.

The hidden ape revealed by mcdaid, liam
Going Ape by seal, george
Fable Little Ape Logy Bog by Alhemaidy, Abdullah
Gentle Ape Ft Worth Zoo 1980 by Bdosa, Vee
Evolved Ape by Ben, Su
Tarzan the Jungle Ape Man by Pennestri, Diane
A Conversation With An Ape by Monihan, Rhoda
characterisation of an ape field by Chanan, Taoi
From An Ape to a Human by Monihan, Rhoda
divination in an ape and eel pie but no gravy by Chanan, Taoi

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The Best Ape Poems

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Earth Day

~Planet of the apes~

Ape should inherit the world
Perhaps  --maybe, just maybe!
Earth has a chance 


~*~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015


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Quacking Crackers

Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom 
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards 
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects 
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal 
except in his alternate universe of oneness 
 
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon 
while war looms close by this feather prides himself 
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
 
 
Sleight of hand reflections move 
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
 
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing 
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend 
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies 
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth 
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
 
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on 
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands 
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
 
 
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem 
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building 
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come

Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster  
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source 
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of 
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me 
only me, me only me, me only me!



a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam Mcdaid


Copyright © Donna Loughman | Year Posted 2017


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Quacking Crackers

Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom 
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards 
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects 
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal 
except in his alternate universe of oneness 
 
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon 
while war looms close by this feathers pride himself 
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
 
 
Sleight of hand reflections move 
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
 
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing 
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend 
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies 
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth 
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
 
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on 
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands 
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
 
 
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem 
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building 
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come

Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster  
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source 
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of 
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me 
only me, me only me, me only me!



a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017


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COURAGE VS CONFLICT

COURAGE VS. CONFLICT
The history of man defines Ape as a primate. Man seems to be in that mind-set today. He lives life as pent because he denies himself religious freedoms. God refined humankind once before and, therefore, he will do the same once more. The factor ends when iniquity meets perilous world. The mania of man will bring forth extinction. In parable, the elderly wisdom was predefined by the life they had lived since the beginning of time. They had seen themselves within their prime and captured these elements through their way of life. Their beauty was not a basis to define. They were primates of mammal and nomadic. Their skin was olive nonwhiten via sunshine. They hunted with self-made weapons and brought back a feast many times. However, one male cultivated the mind. He invented weapons for prosperity. An abundance of wealth all received.
Today is venturous. Humankind has crested to another prehistoric image. Our originations through inventions and development have implemented innovations. Our minds must continue to reinvent not to become another mandrill. The core of our existence relies on this. We are human beings and the highest intelligence. Insofar as we are not predetermine... Insofar as we are no predestine to a grandeur form... Insofar as we see no more adjustments that are required for humankind physiological form... We have peaked physiologically. Therefore, we will henceforth to inform our mental faculty. ____________________________________________________|
Penned on October 19, 2014!


Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014


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THE OPAQUEST NARRATIVE

In Michigan, the weather can change for the worst in October. This particular Halloween came a blizzaring. The lights went out and in a dark, dark room, candles were lit; therein, the opaquest narrative was captured.
* With the shape of With figment With look I will invent the human. Through the mind Via light With aspect The being I will project. I saw sadness. It stared directly at me. I gazed back. It begins to glare. I looked away. Why am I afraid? It is an ape, a primate. With child fists, I walked toward this apelike creature and strike out. Finally, I saw more than eyes and it pounces. It is a little child as a man. My hands represented some insight. Would we fight? ** The universe stood as earth. Solar we are to the sky above. Humanity shouts with a hoarse voice. Man, woman, and child stands as an echo. God sent the demons. The sinners are all of us. Through commandment of what Hell is Heaven is not. Demons are with God. The Pacific Ocean is the end of the world. It runs east and west. Why do we not investigate this? [Because our capabilities are limited!] Are we afraid of what we will find? We discovered each other and now we hesitate. Procrastination is a thing that delays knowledge. Are we wise to seek? Demons are with God. Are we? *** Body [body] {Body}! Gut (gut)! Skin and bones wake up! I am a reincarnation of that that is not known. Many have come before me but none was as I am. I am the body for the human to gut a man. However, women are now involved and they want to be in the belly. Instinctive they are but this was only for man to do. Why do they want to be that damned fool? Unconscious to the world that they are within, one would ask self why they want to be like men. The answer becomes to fit in. What if there is one left out? The answer becomes their bodies have been gutted and they are only GI. **** The Moon has no Gods. The Sun is what speaks to us. It tells us prophesy and what the world shall become. We are mongoloid, brown and bronzed spiritual to our existence. Our tribes are of North America. A hundred plus [we] stand[s]. Our land is our strength. We fought. We won. We lost. Died from disease but gave birth once again. Our population stands now and we are healthy. The European man has given our wisdom and knowledge. Our minds are set on our economic growth. We will become political minded. Five hundred nations are we those lost tribes of our history. ***** The mockery of man is a stance of incorrectness. It transforms through government and states that your freedoms are not anything to believe in. You, as people, are nothing but possessions and no one knows who is blessed. You are lucky to be here. Your way of life is given by our nation’s wealth. We are brought together as immigrants and the natives of this country are indigenous. We cannot pretend that we are more than that. We must pedestal ourselves to unity and know that people are only structure to adhere. One came for liberation. Others came via slavery. Nomads were unbound. They let them in. Yet, they were said to be uncivilized. Today we are unified. We are the United States of America bound, bonded, and realized. {We are gratis; free to form our own lives.} ______________________________________________| PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 13, 2014!


Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014


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Aspie

1—Milieu

Unique construction of body and mind
My niche in human pack not quickly found 
Raw young heart of a curious design
The empty mirrors for my soul abound

Subjectively a bit odd to myself
A jangled, disconnected kind of sense
You’d really have to feel it for yourself
Bare toes in rougher grass, my side of fence

Surrounded by like minds, we all assume
This world of beings whose outsides look like ours
Belonging, my soul’s dream bound straight for doom
As if I’d flown a rocketship from Mars

I turn my back, but yet still feel their grins
At times it seems a penance for past sins

2—Hairshirt

At times, it seems a penance for past sins
This hairshirt of discomfort I have worn 
Beneath my skin, wool sweater’s itch within
As if my past lives’ sins remain unshorn

My senses prone to overload, expend
Just like my mind, to peace they must return
A t-shirt tag could bother me no end
Yet bloodied elbows would escape concern

Vast sea of neon lights, eyes howling bright
My skull reverberates with common sound
A thousand Vegas strips eclipse my sight
Exquisite dullness, daggers soft abound

Bright deluge, hard sensations’ stormy squall 
At times, my soul would fade into the wall

3—Fledgling 

At times, my soul would fade into the wall
When I could not march to their beating drum
Fictitious rules apparent to them all
Ignored by most, my fate, hated by some

My heart is scalded, social asper-steam
Within me builds a silent asper-scream
The years of clumsy efforts don’t redeem
Relief, a frothing mug of aspercreme

I try to find the beat I cannot plumb
Although my overloaded senses hum
The human presence looms, I seek the numb
A frenzied fumble for my aspergum

The fairy tails I chased once seemed unmatched
To grow up in a dreamy world detached

4—Sinking 

To grow up in a dreamy world detached
Illusions and delusions spread their wings
Again, again, my boyhood dreams were dashed
Stray child in charge of life, no good will bring 

The poisoned rain did fail to bring relief
To run and hide within was my great lie
A deepened torrent, dark implosive grief
All sorrow that’s submerged is magnified

The spirit’s life for which I’d never reached
Until the fateful day, my first real prayer
Strong hallowed reed my drowning arm beseeched
Through desperation’s gift, my soul did dare

From darkness did my vagrant soul break free
Becoming the man I’m supposed to be

5—Integration

Becoming the man I’m supposed to be
A task not as straightforward as it sounds
The years drew mantle of success to me
Yet still my larger clan could not be found

My social self I’d tried to disavow
So often did I wish these needs would die
But luck, this curse my fate would not allow
Through many trials, my error rate so high

Within this maze, the rat had found no cheese
So weary now of feeling out of place
Their foreignness cannot be grasped with ease
Where are my people? I don’t see a trace

In this soul, vital difference would it make
For all the years I’d spent perfecting fake

6—Tribe

For all the years I’d spent perfecting fake
My heart, in large part, cowered underground
To ape the things that never could be mine
To be my own self seemed a risk profound

Occasions bring more friends across the rift
In parts and pieces, forming near a whole
A rare woman who can accept my gifts
Our small tribe hatched with love and kindred soul

At forty, I learned how to read a face
Such basic things with which you’re all endowed 
My common sense uncommon, but my place
Becoming solid in my micro-crowd

Great challenge finding home where my heart sits
To figure out with my unaided wits

7—Of Understanding and Diagnosis

To figure out with my unaided wits
Awareness blossomed when I first did see 
 “Non-neurotypical,” whatever its
true meaning, doubtless it referred to me

Atypical, the wires under my skin
Atypical, my needs for contact too
Atypical, the fires that burn within
Atypical, these seeds my life imbued

Despite the careful wording in their books
The shrinks disparage us, their words betray 
The path I find innate, it just might look
Compared to you, pervasively delayed

The Others you don’t get are not Unclean
Some scientists draw parallels between

8—Neanderthal Dream

Some scientists draw parallels between
Neanderthals and Asperger’s today
How ancient cavemen’s lives just might have been
The features, mind and body, seem to say:

Creative loners who seek their own place
Extinct, though hiding somewhere in our genes
An ancient mind lurks just behind my face
It seems we’re born to live in worlds between

Neanderthal projected forward, I’m
A lone wolf among pack dogs, number prime 
In step and tune to my unique heart’s rhyme
A living museum piece who’s lost in time

This unexpected journey helped me find
Unique construction of body and mind

8/6/16
© Thomas W. Quigley


Copyright © Tom Quigley | Year Posted 2016


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Summer Matinee

I was only allowed to go
       (after whining, begging, and promises of unlikely saint-hood)
if my big brother, (much to his displeasure)
made a pledge
to keep an eye on me

Disgruntled, but resigned, he took me along.
He managed to keep, at least,  one eye on me, (however, sitting two rows behind me)
in the dim-dungeon of the Tower theater 
on Atlantic Boulevard,
at the Saturday matinee...

There, happily, and rather smugly,..I would eat popcorn by myself...
which was his apparent bribe,
for my promise to keep our Mother from knowing
my isolation.

As the movie unfolded,
(some Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis thing)
my brother, and his assorted, creepy friends
got great amusement
from throwing kernels of their own buttered bullets,
bouncing them off of the back of my head.
I would turn around to glare at them,
with blood-curdling, "I'm going to tell!", threat in my eyes..
which, of course brought even more sadistic satisfaction, 
to four ape-like, teen aged primates..

After three or four long hours in the dark, air conditioned bedlam...
(a sticky floored collisium for juvenile delinquents),   
we were saturated with multiple cartoons, and double features, sugar and soda,... 
then, emerged with squinty eyes into the sweltering, afternoon sunlight

My brother and his friends, would still be punching each other,
 laughing hysterically at private and quite disgusting jokes
(which I didn't understand, but somehow KNEW, were deplorable)...
  taunting me with, "Cover your ears...Squirt!"

At that moment, all boys,...even my brother, (who was always my hero)...  
                 were as icky as wads of gum stuck under the theater seats !

When the obnoxious, poor excuses for the male sex, had finally parted ways,...
 and as soon as he knew they were out of sight,...
   My brother patted my head, and smiled at me,...
    he reached into his pocket, and handed me
      a piece of Black Jack gum,
       then grabbed my hand,
        and we walked the eight blocks to our home.

Later, after supper, as the summer sun was going down,...
he took me for a ride, letting me sit on the handlebars of his bike
We sped around the block, ..I turned to look back at him and smiled...
                                                         He winked, and grinned back at me...
 
Then, he said, "Next week they are showing "The Blob".  Ya' wanna come?" 

 The sunset sky was pink, yellow and red,    pretty as a lollipop...

     It had been a good , ...actually a perfect, ...summer day......


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009


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Joker

Deck of cards
Aces, Kings, Queens, Jacks, tens to twos, Jokers
Can society not be balanced as deck with equal no of Haves and Have nots ? 

I love 53rd and 54th card, Joker 
As it does not belong to any Suit - Spade, Club, Diamond or Heart
Can society be not classless, casteless akin to Joker, part of deck but not any suit?  

Joker just two in deck 
As against four of each rank in deck
Can the flexibility to include / remove Joker not extended to Politicians in real game 
of life?   

Rested in pro-games, permitted in fun games
Playing Joker mixes with card of any rank or any Suit  
With Joker’s adaptability, can society’s all Suits not live in harmony?   

Joker, colourful card favourite with kids 
Placed atop house of cards
Like child, Joker ever smiles back; can we not ape Joker? Or child?  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For Members contest : Pick A Card, any card by Paula Swanson
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Copyright © Hitendra Mehta | Year Posted 2011


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Big Foot


From Canada to California back up in the trees,
There’s a legendary creature no one ever really sees,
He’s a snow-man and an ape-man, and a monster and a myth,
But he’s no one that a man would ever dare to battle with.

On the southern side of Washington, the spring of ‘Sixty-Nine,
Now the weather it was colder, up and down the timberline,
And the monster he was hungry and he left his tracks around,
But nobody ever saw him, for he never made a sound.

And we’re never going to catch him, for he always disappears,
And the Big Foot, he’ll keep living for another million years.

He’s the answer and the question, he’s the riddle of our time,
But nobody ever shoots him, since it turned into a crime.
And they didn’t have to pass a law to save his savage hide
For a man who’d hunt the Big Foot would be bound for suicide.

But I still would like to see him, from a mile or so away,
With a camera so that I could prove the things I have to say,
But nobody’s going to see him in the woods of Washington,
And make the folks believe it, for it never has been done.

And we’re never going to catch him, for he always disappears,
And the Big Foot, he’ll keep living for another million years.


Copyright © Steve Eng | Year Posted 2010


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Big Foot

The sunset underlines divine visage as it shines above the lake
Before the stars ornamenting curtain of night will awake
The tired police sergeant drives home from shooting range  
When he encounters something strange

As he slowly drives someone walks out of bushes past the barley
This encounter to the detective feels very eerie
This person seems over eight feet tall
And puts bizarre feeling in sergeant’s soul

At first he thinks it is a bear in his sight
But the creature is walking up right
He turns on the light
And gets the glimpse of the being before it disappears into the night

It is a huge bipedal ape with shaggy hair
And his deep eyes into sergeant’s soul seem to stare
Of all the troubles in man’s world they seem to be aware
And their sad almost human gaze to meet is hard to bare 

The creature gives the eerie look and disappears into the night
The sergeant does not know if he should feel honor or fright
The creature did not come to fight
But to see it and look into its eyes was awe inspiring sight

About those eyes there was certain majesty
Like being who possessed them could control his destiny
And needed not to worry about backlash of destiny
Like if you only open your soul to them they can set you free

 Being who had those eyes believed that things more profound even than destiny was his
Someone who knew pain but found bliss
That beyond abstract resonance of destiny was just a start of found in those eyes abyss
The stare demanded justice yet was as gentle as morning sun’s ray kiss




Copyright © Patrycjusz Kopec | Year Posted 2015


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The 44th President

The 44th President “one who is blessed” in Swahili,
Happens to love his wife’s Shrimp Linguini.
His desk, in the senate office once belonged to Robert Kennedy!
Renegade Tried to make it in to an all black male calendar,
But was rejected by an all female committee.
He wares $1500 Hart Schaffer suits,
With one of his identical pair of size 11 shoes.
When the president stands up you never hear any boo’s.
A few good luck charms he has with him,
A Madonna and child frozen for eternity,
And a bracelet of the arm of a man fighting in Iraq.
Bar can lift an impressive 200 pounds wile lying on his back.
His favorite delight to drink is Black forest iced tea,
Wile looking at his red boxing gloves signed by Mohamed Ali.
But never ask him out to Baskin Robbins, he don’t like ice cream.
But if you gave him a chocolate protein bar his dream.
Hide any dog meat snake meat or roasted grasshoppers up high,
For all these things he has tried.
All wile keeping his dignified pride.
He gets a snip and a trim once a week cost him $21 dollars,
That’s real cheap thanks to Zariff.
In whom the Obomber confides in to talk about the week.
He mite have been the one who convinced the malotoe,
To trade his Chrysler 300 in for the hybrid.
His memoirs, Dreams from My Father won a Grammy in 2006.
He was o past war president that was left handed the 6th.
He left a stag party which had a stripper in 1996.
As a teenager he tried marijuana and cocaine,
And Berry collects comic books like spider-man and Conan the Barbarian.
His specialty as cook is chili,
His favorite TV shows are Mash and The Wire.
He has four places in a Chicago home to build a fire.
He uses an apple Mac laptop to look at Pablo Picasso art.
He has read every Harry Potter book,
I wonder if he spoke Spanish to his pet ape back in Indonesia.


Copyright © David Sherman | Year Posted 2010


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Black Bog

 My descent was gradual, sedge meadows with wondrous pink orchid variations visited by never identified damselflies, my head starting to swim; erasing time, giving way to a dark canopied wetland of black spruce, difficult to traverse, sloping deer trails the safest path to take, avoiding quick-mud holes. These trails are popular in the forest, as signs reveal, death struggle remains, the saddest.
 This is the area I saw the hairless half ape/half wolf like creature block my trail, stopping to look at me deeply, then vanishing like a ghost, without even a ruffle of plants.
 Sometimes a plant, flower or insect calls to me "come closer" so I approach with caution; my hand carved heavy oak staff probing for danger, strong enough to ward off bears and badgers, snakes & insect saboteurs, intent on my demise.
 With compass and topo I chart my course, knowing each time I visit these wild places in the forest off Lake Superior, it could be my last, so I bring back natural, wondrous souvenirs that fill my day-dreams, content once more, cleansed of my sins by Her Majesty, the forests off Gitchi Gumee.


Authors note...never venture into these wild places alone, always be prepared with survival equipment in your pack.
 
 


Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2018


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Bananas

They say we evolved from apes,
  but an ape would never destroy its own environment;
  or be unwilling to share ---
  having an endless amount of anything,
  or have itself as its own worst enemy ---

Is this what they call standing upright?
  (Bananas)







***Darwinism and evo!ution could not happen without blood-clotting***


Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2018


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On the muzzle of the cat- in my bed lying,

On the muzzle of the cat-  in my bed  lying,
When he  looked at me, appears a smile:-
"Although a distant - I'm  relative of a lion,
And you just an ape, as a science define."



Copyright © Alex Klugman | Year Posted 2017


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DONALD TRUMP RE DUCKS I GOOSE

Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
   of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous arse
   Sunkist in Macy's window 

   then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
   for his hide leaving  
   proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.

Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
   while kissing thing kith

   darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed 
   expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
   news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)

inducing said personality
   to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously 
   maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously 

   incriminating, hellaciously, 
   desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss 
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election 
   toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
   arrogant simian with sass.

I van (terribly hard pressed) 
   to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
   gnashing false teeth 
   Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination 
   (pa hill a reed) as sham –

from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
   crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
   sans presidential outcome a shame 
bullying with his millions beds this,

that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool 
   birthing more Quakers
   and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade

and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
   phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash

for his kitty, as if that cachet 
   to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
   like "Stormy Dan" yells

   leering oafish ill pout 
   while hair rum 
   (of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock 
   of bronzed sea gulls mocks

heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.


Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018


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Simple Days

Otis Wheat was a simple man.  He didn’t have much to say and when he did say something it was worth listening to.  He was generally shy to a fault but when the time was right he could let you know how the bread was buttered.  I learned a lot about life from him and also to keep my mouth shut unless I had something to say.  And now I reckon I got something to say.

I have been waiting fifty-five years to start talking and it feels like I’ve been drowning inside.  Now you might think that a man can’t live that long without saying something meaningful but I can tell you straight up that ain’t true.  I have been bull****ting folks from the day I came out of the womb and into this world.  It started with an ass whooping from the doctor that delivered me, “scream like you got a set son”, to standing in the White House and shaking a Presidents hand, “Yes Mr. President I did have sex with that woman”.  You see what comes out of my mouth has never necessarily been the truth.  So your probably thinking why should I believe you now?  Well I will let you be the judge of that for I have been to the mountain and I have returned with a sense of fear that would put any living being to shame…for I am afraid of heights and I can’t stand looking down on anything or anyone, and because of that fear I shall not tell a lie.

So the story begins one dark cold morning in Bedfordshire, England.  My mother was in labor for two days before I peaked my scrawny little head out into the world and uttered my first words.  Of course these were coaxed out of me by a swift slap on the ass but it didn’t take but once for me to figure out that I didn’t want another, thank you very much.  The nurse swaddled me in a nice warm blanket put a beany on my head and cooed over me.  I smiled back and pretended to love her and uttered a couple of monosyllabic words to bring the point home.  I was a natural. 

Now my older brother was not very fond of me and from day one I had to figure out a way to bamboozle him into a chaotic state that would keep him from injuring my body and soul.  This may sound like quite a feat for an infant but I was a precocious child and made due with what was at hand.  There are only a couple of things an infant can do and one of them is scream like a spotted-ass ape.  The other is poop.  Screaming did not always have the desired effect so I learned early on how to throw a turd better than Joe Namath on his best day.  I have figuratively been hurling them ever since. 


Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2014


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First Love - How I Met My Hubby


How I Met My Hubby Summer 1955  (using 1950s slang)

I answered the horn—it was my friend, Bobby.
He told me he knows someone I might dig,
and he’d like me to cast an eyeball on him!
He said he is very earthbound and hep!
So, I told him, “Okay, see ‘ya later, alligator!”

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I was on cloud 9
and cranked, and so full of illuminations!
But then thought to myself, don’t have a cow!
He could be a fake out or a fream,
so I shouldn’t flip until I meet him!
I put on my best poodle skirt and saddle shoes,
and then brushed my hair up in a ponytail.

Bobby pulled up in his flip-top, and I go ape!
He gives me that made in the shade look.
Then he got out of the machine, and
Bobby introduced him to me as Bill.
Tall, with a flat top, classy chassis, and nice threads—
I was glad he wasn’t a greaser or grody.
As we talked, I’m thinking to myself—this,
this is like crazy! He’s the most! Boss!
We talked more and then went inside my pad
to hang and play my collection of sides.

Before long, time for Bill and Bobby to cut out.
We did have a blast, and Bill was so cool.
I whispered to Bobby that I really dig Bill,
and he said Bill thinks I’m a dolly.
Before they jumped back into Bobby’s chariot,
Bill asked me to go see a flick the next night.
I calmly said yes, but inside I began to flip!
Said he would call me on the horn in the morning.
“Okay, punch it,”  Bill said to Bobby,
so he popped the clutch and they split.

My brother said, “What’s you tale, nightingale?”
I said, “Cool it—and cut the gas!  Get with it,
and don’t be cruisin for a bruisin!”
Brother said he heard Bill ask me out to a flick,
and to make sure he doesn’t take me to that passion pit!
“Righto, and don’t bug me,” I said under my breath.
“I’m gonna cut out to listen to some sounds
upstairs and pile up some Z’s.”

I went to my room, definitely cranked and on cloud 9,
thinking about my blast tomorrow with Bill.
I couldn’t wait to make the scene—
A burger, fries, Coke and a flick…fat city!
And, maybe, I thought, a little back seat bingo too??
And then slowly, I nodded off to sleep…

*Never a thought we’d be circled in June 1958


Sandra M. Haight

~3rd Place~
Contest: First Love
Sponsor: Frank Herrera
Judged 10/07/2016

~1st Place~
Contest: Talk the Talk and Walk the Walk – 1950’s Slang
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Judged: 06/25/2015

Reference for 1950’s slang:  http://www.host-party.com/files/hp_1950s_slang.pdf



Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015


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Life Sentence

Feeding hungry skins with empty tins/ 
Consciousness bundle up ape spiritual vomits/ 
Stories left untold only the bold shuffle words in sharp tones cutting sweet tongues/ 
Lifeless rhymes reflecting muscles-less babies rolling stones building prison homes/ 
Plan is to keep them stoned/ 
Restrictions refilling holes this hive is cold/
Unchained soldiers imprisoned by goals planting the return of sharp codes/ 
Turned into jail masters/ 
Electrifying memories kept safe worries staged silently with bombastic hallelujahs/
No hope you just get old/
Brain stains unfold its the life sentence zone/


Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2013


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Canto XXIX Hell translation

So many people and the various sores
Intoxicated in such a way my eyes,
That wanted open to crying their doors.

But Virgil told : “What for you look this guise?
Why now your sight is so carefully brought
Down there on those sad broken shadow guys?

You did not act this way before by naught;
Think, if to stay here more you now believe, 
That twenty two miles the valley is thought. 

And yet the moon under our feet could leave;
More time is given almost short to us,  
Something else there is to see and achieve”

“If you had just”, I answered him then thus,
“Known the reason why I was looking there,
Perhaps I was allowed to stay and glance”.

While he was moving, and I back to fare,
The duke, giving then answer already,
I added: “In that cavern just where

I put my eyes so firm and so steady,
I think a soul to me kinsman might cry
The fault for which much pain is there ready”.

Then master told: “You should not much apply
Your following thought from now on to him.
Else you should watch out, and leave him thereby;

Because I saw him at foot of bridge rim
Show and threaten with finger toward you,
And heard Geri del Bello name with vim.

At that time you were prevented in view
Attentive to whom Altaforte kept,
You did not watch at there, so he left through”.

“O duke of mine, his violent death swept
Which has not yet been avenged”, I told”
For any who of shame consort was apt,

Made him disdainful; to stay didn’t hold,
Went off with no word, as my judging goes:
For this he made me more pious behold”. 

So we conversed up where the view arose
Above the rock where new valley is seen,
If more light there were, to the bottom lows.

When to the top stone rising we had been 
Of Malebolge, so that the damned there
Could be then shown us in a full scene,

I darted was by such kinds of despair, 
Which strongly shod with pity had their tip; 
So that with hands I shut then my hears pair. 

Same pain would be, if the hospital rip 
Of Valdichiana in summer time 
And Maremma and Sardinia bad strip 

Were all together joined in a tip lime, 
So it was there, and came out a stench such 
As the one coming from rotted meat grime. 

Down with the last bank we got in touch 
On the long rock, taking just to hand left; 
And then my eyes could now observe more much 

Down to the bottom, where the regent deft
Of high Lord justice which never has foul
Here smites the fakers of truth bereft.

I do not think to see worse pain to howl
Was in Egine all people ill to be,
When air was then with everything afoul, 

That animals, to smallest worm to see,
Fell wholly, and then peoples of the past,
According poets who report and agree,

Used to eat as food just ants’ seed amassed;
That was to see  in that obscure valley dark
Languish the souls by many pains harassed.

Someone over belly and some on back arc
One on the other laid, and some fours all
Painfully moved in that pathway stark.

Pace by pace we went, no word to install,
Looking at and hearing those guys so sick,
Who could not stand up a way to appall.

I saw two of them sitting brick to brick,
As platter is put on platter to heat,
From head to feet fully stained with sores thick;

And I never saw a currycomb beat 
By a stable lad rushing for his lord, 
Nor any who reluctant has to treat, 

As each one was beating often the sword 
Of his nails on himself with a great rage 
For the itching, which has no relief chord; 

And nails so ripping the scab to assuage 
Akin to a knife that rips the bream scales 
Or of any other fish whose scales upstage.

“You who rub yourself with fingers and nails”,
Started then my duke aimed of them to one,
“And you use them as a tong which assails,

Tell me if any Latin is outdone
Between those here, if nail is just enough
Eternally for this work you make run”.

“Latins we are, you see suffer rebuff
Here both now”, one of them answered with cry;
“But who are you, asking of us so tough?”.

And duke then told: “I am one coming by
With this living being by cliff to cliff,
And hell to show him as my task I try”.

Then body sharing they broke in a jiff;
And quite trembling each one turned to me
With others who heard it as rebound stiff.

The good master then came close as with plea,
Telling: “Tell them what now you want to know”;
And I told, after he looked turned to be:

“If your mind is not to vanish in a blow
In previous world within all human minds,
But it lives longer at many suns below,

Let me know who you are and what mankind’s;
Your just obscene and bothersome too pain
To show don’t be afraid, me ready finds”.

I was Arezzo’s, and Siena’s Albero, I explain,
Responded one, “Made me to burn in fire;
But I am not here for that faulty strain. 

Truly I told him, as joke to inspire:
“I would be able to go in air and fly”;
And that, who had beauty but sense of mire,

Wanted I showed the art; and for that by
Since I didn’t him Daedalus, made me
Be burned by who had him as his son tie.

But in the last circle of ten as fee
Me for the alchemy in world I used
Damned Minos, who never wrong can be”. 

And I told poet: “Was ever cruised
Futile people as the Siena’s one?
Surely not the French much more to be bruised!”.

And other leper, who hearing had done,
Answered to me: “But Stricca is except
Who was able wise to spend with waste none,

And Nicolaus of the rich fashion adept
Of carnation discovered for the first
In the garden where this wild seed has leaped;

And consider the party in which burst
Caccia d’Asciano’s vineyard and land,
And Abbagliato his wit nursed.

But so that you know who so gives you hand
Against Sienises, sharpen your eye to me,
Thus helping my face  right words to expand: 

So I am Capocchio’s soul you shall see,
Who metals falsified with alchemy shape;
And you remember, if I well judge thee,

How of the nature I was a good ape”. 



Copyright © Mario DE PAZ | Year Posted 2015


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The Devil

The Devil				

Genocide Srebrenica and Žepa

The monkey of chetnik
Blessing guns
Killing nuns
Calls himself a priest
While performing massacres discreet

A Serbian ape
Dressed in holy cloth
No one is fooled
The old man is a sloth
Crimes against humanity

Vojislav Carkic is the devils hate
An old man in a garden at deaths gates
Flowers bloom from the devils blood
This satanic monster in a holy collar
While his victims raped in pain they holler

His erotic desires are never of love
He is happy when killing, for he hates white doves
The old fool still wishes to slay
He hates the Ukraine, the old Serbian fool should pray
Sadly with his disguise of the holy

He is still in the mood to kill


Notes on Soup Blog


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016


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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.


Copyright © Chukwuemeka Mbah | Year Posted 2013


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CRAZY MAD DOG

Charm courts calm cheer
Romp ruffles rear
Ask and appear
Zoom zesty zeal
Youth yelling yield


Mind mourning mate
Airing apt ape
Discern debate


Dice dewy drop
Offer opts ops
Glimpse gracious gob


Best blooming blot
Aim and allot
Ripe rich report
Kind keeper knows
Sanguine song shows


Note not never
Options over
Worst woes wiser


Hoist hip heavy
Engrave empty
Rich rowdy roar
Encroach explore


Leon Enriquez
13 Apr 2014
Singapore


(Note: This is an Acrostic poem with Alliteration.)


Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014


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Crazy

My friends and I had midnight hide and seek
One had to stand by a tree and not peek
In my state of hiding great I was hard to find
My friends decided to just be unkind
They all got together and decided to hunt me down
I first hid in the river near my house and almost drown
When they walk close by me I silently move through the grass
It was very hard to see, but I crawled a long time and almost ran out of gas
Then I heard one say that they were going up and wait by the tree
I had an idea that made a way to make them see
A shadow that ran in the distance thinking that would be
I had my horse pull a little manikin to make them think it was me
My friends took their flashlight and shined it toward it
I thought I had them but one thing was clear they did not fall for it not a bit
They all laugh and started to call out my name
They all asked how the heck did you have time to pull that trick that was so lame
I did not answer so they kept on looking for me, but I was so quick 
Some of my friends started to get really mad and tick
I was a master of doing weird things they all knew what I can do
The night was still young and the grass was collecting dew
I decided to make a distraction once again
To think of it, it would probably make the night end
My friends finally surrounded my tree house
I was quiet, so quiet, more than a mouse
I had some rope in the tree house to make my escape
To distract them I made a loud noise like an ape
The tree that my tree house was in was at least forty feet up
I had some stash in my tree house a drink or two in a cup
My final hour is about to end I did not want my friends to catch me till I got to the tree
I took the rope and tide it on a branch and pushed off and that was the key
I landed on the garage roof and sneaked my way to the tree
My friends knew me to well that they plan things before I could see
They had a fish net ready for me to step into
I thought that was kinda wise and some what like pew
The few feet by the tree there was two of my friends that was ready
Up in the tree they both jumped down and pulled me up in the net fast and steady
They thought they had won, the person had to tag me before I touch tree
She ended up having to get something to stand on to reach me
I swung my weight back and forth till I ended up touching and the game ended
My friends and I were so full of surprises and that is what the game handed



Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013


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Tell Me PLease

How does one capture a female heart?
When all her male suitors
Are all over her like stink on an ape?

How do I profess such undying love?
That nothing would stop my romantic advances
Other than the gun she has aimed at my heart

From under her window sill
So I have stated, so I have sung
I would climb the highest mountains
I would cross the stormiest of seas
I would trek across the most arid of deserts
I would forage through the densest of rainforests

Sadly dear I can not come over tonight
As it’s raining out
But my heart still cries out for you, you see
Justin Beiber loves songs echo in my ears
As I long for you tonight

My phone rings and brings me back to reality
It’s your best friend Jenny calling me
I am so sorry
We have to break up
Jenny just kissed me over the phone
She’s awesome


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015


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THE PATTERSON FILM


Man or myth, fact or fiction, a primitive walking legend,
A photo vision of realism, or fraud’s conception of the
Ultimate hoax gone wrong, evolution's unseen experimental
Beast, lying in the hallow shadows of discovery.
In the tinder box of humanity vs. creationism, the
Patterson film is a spark igniting the flame of
Controversy, singeing the ends of these too
Fragile beliefs, pitting them against each other.
Anomaly belong, in the twisted trail of DNA,
Is she a Hominid unknown or a cryptid fake?
In the vast body of evidence, do we truly
Have to kill just to prove that something exists,
Life is mystery, beauties accent quality, and
Freedom is a God given right, not to be taken
Away lightly, with a single bullets flashing’s strike.
Look within the eyes of the beast, to her kind
We are the true animals, invading her kindred’s
Environments.
In the forest wilds here the screaming cries of the
Missing extinct, raging at their iron bars of the
Forgotten species, as the last one falls, do we
Not hear their bodies hitting the floor of existence.
Are we not the intelligent ape, whom climbed down
From the trees, and walked upon two legs of knowledge,
Nay do I ponder these questions?
In the linkages of legacies frame work, a divine welder
And craftsman decides the lines of survival not mankind.
A harsh fact in realism, tomorrow we may become the earthen dust
Blowing in the winds of destiny, joining the dinosaurs of yesterday.
Man or myth, fact or fiction, a primitive walking legend,
A photo vision of realism, or fraud’s conception of the
Ultimate hoax gone wrong, evolution's unseen experimental
Beast, lying in the hallow shadows of discovery.

.In the forest thicket, the hunters stalk the forests unknown,
And there huddled together are the cryptic, hugging
Their young tenderly ever closer to the bare bosom, hushing them
To remain silent, for mankind draws ever nearer.
Man or myth, fact or fiction, a primitive walking legend,
A photo vision of realism, or fraud’s conception of the
Ultimate hoax gone wrong, evolution's unseen experimental
Beast, lying in the hallow shadows of discovery.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN








Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015