Best Bim Poems
We are the tintinnabulating trolls
To the rock rock bottom of our nonexistent souls.
Madder than the maddest hatter,
Hear us bellow, bray, and bleat;
And we prattle pitter-patter
In our jabberwocky chatter
To a bumbulating beat.
See us zim zam zoom
As we're going bim bam boom
In an onomatopoeia that so rhythmically rolls.
We're the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.
We're the truly tintinnabulating trolls.
We are the tintinnabulating trolls
With our xenophobic hearts lit like black burning coals.
Hate and anger are our teachers
So we squabble, squeal, and squirm.
We are misbegotten creatures—
With the ugliest of features—
Lower than the lowest worm.
In these premises
We're unrivaled nemeses;
And we burrow furrow mindless like some misanthropic moles.
We're the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.
We're the truly tintinnabulating trolls.
We are the tintinnabulating trolls
From compassion and goodness we're at opposite poles—
So devoid of any scruples.
On stupidity we feed.
As our villainy quadruples
We're the most attentive pupils
To insatiable greed.
See us bash bing bang.
Hear us clatter clash cling clang
As we crash upon the shallows of malevolented shoals.
We're the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.
We're the truly tintinnabulating trolls.
We're the trolls trolls trolls,
The incorrigible trolls.
We're the trolls trolls trolls.
We're the horrigible trolls.
We're the irritating, aggravating, fascinating trolls.
We're the wrangulating, jangulating, strangulating trolls.
We're the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.
We're the truly tintinnabulating trolls.
– Harley White
[From my version of “East of the Sun and West of the Moon”]
There is an imp name stim
Stim touched the rim
his dads name is bim
they eat out of bins
heres my crim
buy some din
eat some tim
watch out its a rim
oh no stim ate rim
watch out IM ****ING RETARDED!
What's up miss popular? People know about your greed
Ya, got the text. The "Hey, dotard, don't talk to me freak,"
The average joe, and those silly electronics"
Please, Click Itch, labeling others as the smelly geek
So many countless hours cushioning in luxury
Preparing to feed your lust, her dinner platter
Feasting on periodic table and splitting bonding
Then misguided paparazzi ask what’s the matter?
Dr. Gluttony's remedy, a coke and Mentos
Pridefully smiling as other families shatter
Expecting everyone’s contributions to the plate
Because, you are the modern-day narcissistic (*sore)
The search engines have endless pages on the topic
Upon your illusion throne, craving and wanting more
Deep down in the shadows, harbors your anger and wrath
Enviously fishing for a fresh party's primate
Yep, Scarlett, Megan and Kelly all have perfect cups
But don’t worry, over time your bim-bims will deflate
Sorry, Brittany and Jen both have the perfect butt
Though your horoscope says, “glutes are going to inflate”
Ma'am Trash Troll, you have not the cash flow of Uncle Sam
What A disgusting branded pathetic child you are
Your future will be a shabby truck driver's pit stop
Slothfully dreaming of becoming a super star
*Word changed
Updated 5/14/219
-Urban Dictionary-
1.Click Itch - An everlasting feeling of need to start clicking, usually on social sites such as Facebook, Instagram, Google, Pinterest, etc.
2.Dotard - An aging individual who has long lost the ability to make rational sense.
3.Cushioning - A dating technique where along with your main piece you also have several 'cushions', other people you'll chat and flirt with to cushion the potential blow of your main break-up and not leave you alone.
You made Death grumble, boy
He not pleased that a little squirt like you got away
He had you choking on your mama's apron strings,
with that foolhardy, playful dare you made
Said you was gonna cross Bim Argut's field,
and you wasn't scared of his menacing sign
Hope that pretty young thing you were trying to impress,
comes to your funeral in her best Sunday dress
"No Trespassing" is what the rusted, buck shot at, sign said
"Private Property," so that means you better stay off
You can leave walking,
or you can leave being carried away on your back dead
Yeah, Death thought he had you, little bugger
Had you in Bim's gunsight, but he didn't squeeze the trigger right
Even after you turned tail and ran,
Bim was still trying to hit you with his bad arthritic right hand
Just missed you,
Grim Reaper thought he had you
Dead to rights, you was almost his
At that distance how did he miss ...
with a 20-gauge shotgun, even a blind man
could've gave you a silver pellet kiss
Maybe your big friend from on high helped you,
if he did, I don't know why
You ain't nothing but a troublemaker,
a short life is written in the stars
You won't live long enough
to raise glasses in honky-tonk bars
Now gon' run back to your papa
in your blue jeans with the brown backside
Yeah, run back to your mama
in your white sneakers with the yellow streak,
like you done cried
Death's gonna get you one day,
everybody knows that Death don't play
Yeah, Death's gonna get you someday,
so you better start learning how to pray
A Thunderous Roar
But Yet With An Accent I Do Adore
Jamaican Speech Synchronized
With A French And Bim Flavor
Locks Beautiful And Blonde
Power, Strength & Spiritual Vibes Surround
With Eyes That Are Turquoise Green
And Words That Are Divine And Clean
Out To Rise Up Mankind
And Free Us From Babylon
Aswan The Lioness
Protector Of The Lair
Empress To The Throne
Positive Vibes, Positive Thinking
Brings A Positive Meaning
To A Positive Life
©Copyright Brian Pierre-Alexander 2005
I'd like to take this opportunity to express a full measure of sympathy
To the family of the late Mortimer Snurd, an amputee whose plight moved us
to gimpathy
And to his wife Anabelle Fofoofnik Snurd, whose wobbly gait triggered
our limpathy
--Not to mention his poor children, upon whom we showered our impathy.
Of course, there's the Snurd's loyal family mutt, Blurd, who gets all of
our Rin-tin-timpathy,
Yes, even their security guard, Slurd, who couldn't prevent four break-ins,
receives our wimpathy.
And as we part from you, O Snurds, here's a little song to demonstrate our
bim-bom-bimpathy:
Cheery-bim, Mortimer Snurd
Cheery-bom, Annabelle
Cheery-bim, Blurd
Cheery-bom, Slurd
Cheery-bim-bom-bim-bom-bim-bom
--How Absurd!
Credit Crunch
So they rob the money
Ain't that Funny
Banker,Flankers,Tankers
Fingers in the pot
Political situation hot
Slight of hand, diversion
Laundering, pondering
Dollars devalued
Pumps run dry
Petrol prices sky high.
Weep little peasants
Learn the lies
Under employment
Over indulgence
Credit cards blaze
Fictitious accounts,
Spending craze
Bim, bam , Wham
Credit crunch
No more caviar for brunch.
Porsche parked, others jump
Pension crisis, Banking slump.
Brinks Matt robbed !!
And no guns pulled
Faces change, government bull
Play the card, Tell a story
Worldwide crisis, escalating prices.
Bankers paid, government sway
A con trick is a con trick
Watch the play
Another angle, another drift
What if? What if?
Then move to the present
Unemployment rising,
Increased border crossing
Refugees , returnees
And don't forget
The deportees.
Holy Moses we are Sunk!
Run to the tax havens
Lets do a debunk.
See Ya!!
"A Duel"
By Rachel Heffington
Long ago in a valley green,
Where a thriving hamlet once had been
Was a rubb-ly castle, hidden well
By maples tall, in a shady dell.
The penants, fluttery once, and gay,
Now hung in shreds- a faded gray;
The tower was crumbly, the dias leaked,
And in the dungeon the mouses squeaked.
Now, Squire Cliff and Baron Bim,
(Both plum full of peppery vim)
Engaged in a duel on the weedy lawn
As the edge of night gave way to dawn.
The Baron, (insulted) and the Squire (quite red
With anger) their stout hearts quivered with dread.
None wanted to fight, they dallied and stalled,
"3 Paces!" which words their courage dulled.
But neither would give it up as a joke-
"What we need s'for Bim (th'old Baron) to choke!"
The sun had climbed higher, now quite in the sky,
They drew swords and poised, "Hark! Where comes that cry?!?!"
Repeated! And from the dell came a maid,
With basket and blanket, their arms she stayed-
"Kind Squire! Good Baron! You mustn't fast!
Come, bury the hatchet, enjoy this repast!
Reluctant, but grateful, each laid down his arms,
Exploring instead, a beef-pasty's charms.
They kissed and made up o'er a cup o' darjeeling,
And surely there was quite a brotherly feeling.
And so the adage shall henceforth be,
"All's well that ends with a cup of tea!"
Bim and Kim are my best friends,
I think they’re rather neat.
Bim and Kim can twist and bend.
There second names are feet.
Bim goes left Kim follows suit,
If Bim jumps Kim jumps to.
The two of them are so darn cute,
When snuggled in my shoe.
Bim and Kim they like to run,
Trying to outrun each other.
They stick to me when having fun,
I guess I am their mother.
When Bim gets tired Kim stays still,
I watch them as they snooze
I laugh at them, I always will
When the two of them trade shoes.
Bim and Kim they love to laugh
And like to run through puddles.
Then after we all take a bath,
I give them lots of cuddles.
Brenda Meier-Hans
Written 08.31.2014
In the Kitchen
This is about a particular drawing though I wish not to disclose which one exactly I
mean for it matters so much that it matters no longer because my friends Arthur and
Bim watch over their kitchen rest their bones now and fly in spirit together
In the Pembrokeshire winds
Little squiggles on paper of lovers drawn with life-long experience to master the craft
of surreal expression what is and may yet be like a curious child expressing the world
and it holds so much description of how Pablo adorned the evolution of
Genuine genius
Like the outlined lovers who hung framed on the panel the Giardellis had eloped and
spent their lives painting collaging and sculpting in the former Warren School House
where they played ping pong on a table like soul mates’ embrace in the gallery with
Pablo adorning their life
Art work is what it means to the viewer ink drawn on canvas beholding the meaning
depicted straight into the heart and the soul when they join essence symbiosis along
On a stone wall over the Aga it had lived as they had
Breakfast with Picasso each every day
25th April 2017
Ricky was a poor little fool
Chuck was heading back to school
Mark for his teen angel he did grieve
But Conway knew it was only make believe
Tell Laura I love her Ray did cry
And Jack said goodbye baby bye bye
Ritchie sang about Donna and Ooh my head
Rave on rave on Buddy said
All Don and Phil had to do was dream
Turning Fabian loose made the girls all scream
It's a shame Big Bad John had to die
Mary was telling everyone that's my guy
A runaway tore Del's love apart
Frankie said just ask your heart
Those poni tails were born too late
While Floyd was thinking about his last date
Tommy asked please Mister Sun
The Beach Boys were having fun fun fun
Maurice was pleading for us to stay
Jimmy was on the way to Bim Bom Bay
The Crystal's sang when they got kissed
Chubby wailed let's do the twist
Brother's felt like Cathy's Clown
There were three bells for Jimmy Brown
Leader of the pack didn't get too far
Connie went where the boys are
Someone told me about a teenage queen
And Johnny was crying for Maybelline
Del Vikings said come and go with me
Bobby took us beyond the sea
While Jerry Lee was shaking up
This Time Troy was breaking up
Bobby sang please love me forever
But Johnny said until the twelfth of never
So many songs touched us then
Susie Darlin' , I remember when.
Song title in every line. If you remember them all, you can remember just how
great those years were.
Abracadabra
With nothing up my sleeve
Watch me carefully
As I try to be
Something that I'm really not
Someone other than me
Abracadabra
With nothing up my sleeve
Hocus Pocus
Trying to not own this
What's behind the curtain
Is a bit out of focus
You'll never guess what's behind my back
It's best if you don't notice
Hocus Pocus
Trying to not own this
Sim Sala Bim
No more than slight of hand
Watch as I pull out of my hat
Less than life demands
Some say it's magic
Depends on where you stand
Sim Sala Bim
No more than slight of hand
I am waiting
For the colonists’ offspring
To see.
See what’s already there.
Been there decades,
hundreds and thousands of years.
Brewarrina. Birrngi-Bream.
Condah. Tuupuurn-Galaxis.
Bolac. Smoked eels.
Curly Mitchell Grass.
Nodding Greenhoods.
Yam Daisy-Murnong.
Budj Bim.
World Heritage.
Right here!
Dark Emu.
Read it.
Grasp the future.
Don’t wait.
Act.
Thrive.
Poems should be about cheery things
Like Putin's death and Biden's retiring
When the labels all out tuned to words
A seduction out fumes to poets
A creaming skim of out reach worlds
In witty writing as dove doth
A firm flight beyond the world's known
Yet gently glides in the sky of learned
The weathest of men are not those wit clone
Verily, on all things, words are bim
And the titles of time are all plead
a die now or a die later is but a die
The words i label, come not of high sea
But the ink that all eyes see