Best Bollocks Poems
How different this place
this sanctuary feels, here
inside one’s head. Where
insidious illusions fondle
a subvert mind, and obscenities
resonate within the confusion,
when fidgety creatures, assume
guardianship of my preternatural
situation, scurry around my space,
creating lattice of fabrication
across the quaking ceiling.
My imagination becoming
their fodder, my perception
their power, my tenacity
their strength, before spinneret
interweaves segregation of my
day and night.
Bollocks! To the physician of eastern
promise, he that controls this
nightmare, drip feeding diurnal
poison to this empathy
lost within an advocated paradox!
“Yet surely I have no need of
hatred, now I am confined within a
fragment of one’s dream.”
A genus of warmth; yet a confused
state of perplexity that knows
no boundaries, where bloodstain
walls survey me, incessant shadows
dance in gutless sunlight, and
radical rays anoint me with
“Hope and religion.”
I call out to Rock’n’roll!
Sammy Turner gives me
an impetuous rendering of
“Lavender Blue.”
Then I see an old man struggling
with his own situation. Touched
I call out.
“Are you ‘Jesus Christ?”
He scans my inquiring mind.
He senses I’m an imposter,
he raises one finger
affords me two words!
Both of one demystified syllable!
© Harry J Horsman 2010
The left blame the right, the right blame the left,
both concealed in ideology logically lost on me.
It's not that I don't understand, there's no one with which I stand,
both succeed in ways necessary then turn sour though a good recipe.
The point and blame at those with fame game stays the same,
.....somewhat lame.
All I've learnt from this,
is they've no alternatives,
so take turns in bliss
and ignorance lives.
And as the system alternates,
between political counterweights,
with opposing views on politics,
all I think is bollocks to this.
At least once everyday
There is a word that we should say
Said in the morning or at night
Just scream it out - it’ll be alright.
Internet hackers just took all your money
Something like that is far from funny
A little bird just pooped on your shirt
Your load of clean washing fell in the dirt.
Don’t get mad
Or start feeling sad
Just say “bollocks” everyday
And watch all ills just drift away.
*This advice is of a general nature and may not suit everyone’s circumstances. Please consult professional help if necessary.
i read indulgence mid scripted words
breaking all the rules and then some,
what be greater than gutting & swallowing
uttermost concentration of language
critically consummated or otherwise,
communing within written ideologies
something profoundly reverent or
perhaps deliberate liberating nonsense,
nonetheless commonsensical compunction to
the discerning foresightedness of poets
& enduring escape artists 'tween psyche's
hallucinations & declarations
about analytically anomalous analgesics
and mellisonant melancholy metonymy,
rising above the fray of brutally alliterated
annotations fragmenting & fracturing dimensions,
steel blades sharpening anthologies' imperfect isms
inferring resoluteness 'tween deductive reasoning,
willing exposure imparting quintessential bollocks
literally grasping mercilessly melded metaphors
courageous enough to virtually be aptly bled,
plunged beneath swords' inky touchstones
Is the word “fart” a naughty word
Hope not... I find it cute and giggly
But don't go by me, my mind is a little warped
Words are just words with letters strung together
Strange how any mention of our private parts
Should never be said in public
“Uvula” sounds really naughty
But the dictionary describes it as
“a fleshy extension at the back of the soft palate
That hangs above the throat”
Now if that doesn't sound naughty, I'll eat my shorts!
Here's an old English expression... “bollocks”
Of German origin... related to BALL
And how about “tit”
Again the old dictionary says
“refers to a small New Zealand bird called a “tit”
How can just three innocent letters strung together
Cause little old ladies to titter!
Last but not least we have “dong”
Sounds like a gong as in a bell
So I guess that's where the old expression comes from
“I sure rang his bell!
In closing, I'd like to say this
I had a freaking good time writing this one
But we all know what “freaking” is
It's a sort of polite way of saying
The granddaddy of all swear words
Just seven letters starting with an “f”
It's “farting” of course, what were YOU thinking?
© Jack Ellison 2014
You think you're Godzilla
but you're just a Gorilla,
that's what happens when you've got gonorrhea,
my skin colours vanilla
my skills are killa and real
you're run of the mill, a fail
can't you tell you didn't do well,
that Kartel manure smell
of Kountry music don't sell,
a wannabe that wants to be on X Factor
in a field riding a wrecked tractor,
tracks that no mind will capture,
you're no rapper, a can't act actor and no rhyme writer
with poor rhyming from your core
the fact is you naturally bore,
getting done by amateurs
that means s**t for sure and below my stature,
take a step back and see the big picture,
there's no record label coming for your signature,
you should turn around and head for the door
and not turn this battle rap into a war,
snore, pass out snore music,
20 years and there's still no use for it,
your rhymes are insignificant
your average skill's no different
stop thinking you're magnificent
and realise you're just a hunt.
Yet you think you're good,
umm missing a nail or screw
let's face facts your music is poo,
can you not make a beat with flow?
Your music makes me sit in a seat depressed and low
through ignorance your skill's seen no grow,
so excuse my rant but your music is pants,
professional status, you've got no clucking chance.
You're so unlikely to upstage my quickly written
lickety split thermonuclear lit quick wit
with whatever you pick
to pull out your bag of tricks
because I'll make it unstick
quicker than thumbs can click through your music,
making videos in which you go on the phone,
cliche prone, stereotype replica
look at ya forever inferior,
making out you've golden interior,
but Postman Pat out delivers letters
and is better with more under the hat
you've empty space where your brain sat,
writing rubbish, getting fat,
one year in I'm getting published
you skank like a grandad with one wish
you long to be served a contract,
take note of the situation
you've been rhyming for a generation,
and you'll never be a sensation,
just a symbol of humiliation,
........ cus Rosko thinks he's the dogs bollocks,
while the rest of us just think he's bollocks.
That's all bossco, that's all I have to country cartel you.
Over and out, they call me Sue.
I write like bakers bake
my rhymes make earth shake
Going into contest with me was your biggest mistake
I control the earths plates, tectonics, your rhymes are bollocks
I cause land slides and earthquakes
I don't hate but I do devastate,
Is the rhythm of your rhyme hidden?
I'm going back and forth with my decision
I'd like to think it's something I'm missin'
but I cant see it in what you've written,
You stagnate rhymes
I contemplate the punishment for these crimes,
don't harp that you'll defeat me
I'm a giant you can't even see me
Now back and forth like red and meth I hand you over to little missy,
you pissed us both off so we share a rhyme to make you look silly..........
Your rhymes don't even matter
my pockets is gettin' fatter
Yours getting flatter
When you heard the glass shatter
That means me and my homies gathered
Now you bout to feel the wrath of
Somethin' that you wished you hadn't of
And all I can say is back up because I'm bout to act up
It might not concern you but
I'll thermonuclear burn you, you're a human sacrifice
Cuz I be smashing mics with the Passion of Christ and
Stay fully loaded, equipped with action devices
Me n trim shady here to party like Tom Brady
We stay cooler than an Eskimo baby
V is for Victory, we mastered your trickery
Tryna clock like dickory, get smoked like hickory
So please stop the bickery, you can't get rid of me
Fire colabs from here to infinity
you heard her infinity
even with a radar and map you cant find our reality
we're in another galaxy
you've barely the ability of a fetus
how dare you compete with us
and this U S U K special relationship isn't putting you at a handicap
it's natures act, you can't rhyme or rap
put your dick between your legs and make a tail
walk away with your head down cus your insults fail,
the only insult that landed is that you went up against us
with terrible stale dribble
that you squiggle
all brainless and minimal
like an unevolved mammal
writing without the opposable thumb by miracle
sounding dumb and undesirable,
when I read it I became miserable,
I desire a quick fire high flyer
like me with quick wit that aspires but you were dire
and dim, you aint no Trim,
you're a fool who should return to school.
collaboration with Brenda Chiri
first and third Trim
second Brenda
With a mag called POETRY, I spent time
Hoping to find verses sublime and sage
And for all I read, not two words that rhymed
Just chopped up prose splayed all over the page.
This left me just a little bit perplexed
So I decided to investigate
What I did find on Google left me vexed.
It seems that rhyming is so out of date!
Some academics, who think they could note
A cultural conservative leaning
By meter and rhyme: For whom I would vote
An implicit Bourgeois type of meaning!
To which I exclaimed out loud, “Shucky gee,”
‘Tis such a shameful verbal undressing.
The poems that I write are not P.C.?
Imagine the poor folks I’m oppressing!
perhaps if I wrote a bunch of random
words
and arranged them
bizarrely
on the page and didn’t
capitalize
and ensured a total lack of rhyme or rhythm
then, then some establishment of
Persuns
who make their living criticizing other people’s writings
and maybe even write themselves
would call it poetry?
I thought the idea here was to communicate?
How naive!
Oh the stuffiness
Self-important silliness
Such puffiness
Self-conscious no-frilliness
Whoops! I hate when I do that. Such a chump!
Breaking into rhyme like a “middlebrow.”
Kneeling at the poetic shrine of Trump.
Please, Mr. Self-important, show me how!
My thoughts on this are as follows: Bollocks!
This steaming pile of misinformation,
Your verbal equal of Jackson Pollock,
My heart’s best means of communication?
I want to have the “right” feelings and thoughts
And express them just like all you smarties.
Sans emperor’s new clothes, I have been caught
May I go to your frankfurter party?
3/11/16
In this humid summer air
I don't wear my underwear
my bollocks get all sweaty,
for that I do not care.
It's not amusing they sweat profusely
along with the crack and sweaty pubes
whilst women have their sweaty boobies
seems we all have sweaty rude bits.
So if you girls want to air out your ****
us men will too our balls and dick,
an idea from which we all benefit....
go on, get out your luverly nips.
Broke the door
Gotta Iphone4
A TV
Dvd
Laptop
I can't stop
Popped back in the shop
Ooh! ooh! another Iphone
Gotta go home
Cant carry any more
Me arms are gettin’ sore
But I think I can manage two more
So back into the store
For me 8month olds son a fluffy toy
And me 8year old a game boy
I think I will call it a day
Gotta home quick a and sell them on ebay.
*Bloody riots in London. When all the smoke settles who pays for it we do, the tax payer Bollocks.
Active macho sperm told the passive egg
I am turned on darling eggie are you on the rag?
Eggie smiled and tumbled
Sperm's bollocks are bumbled
Eve pinched Adam's bum, " your dizzy balls sag".
All the others row the boat slow while I crank up the motor....
Here we go let's start the show, I'm the show boater.
The entrance of the eminent,
with ability that's evident.
Poo fills your pants
as you now know you haven't a chance.
I've had it with those who flow with a transparent talent,
the thumpy clumpy rhyme and rhythm of an elephant,
regardless of their age they should think about retirement,
as a skill that's transparent is a skill that they haven't.
I'm the standard setter and I lack compassion,
my skills unmeasured and better than the competition.
Your rhymes are rotten,
that's why they're forgotten,
you're not the dogs bollocks
you're just the dogs bottom.
I rhyme with a rhythm representing Great Britain,
you rhyme like you've been bitten and are disease ridden.
My hyperactive mind will leave you behind,
I am not being unkind but simple minds,
can't even begin to find the words to bind,
people like you often tend to stumble blind
over the simple single syllable rhyme.
I started writing and I'm unstoppable, it's easy it's natural,
you're a hangover fart that lingers like a holocaust chemical.
I am the only poetic superhuman that's causing confusion,
it's amusing how you need the supervision to point out you're losin'.
You need to train your face to look HUMBLE when defeated,
if you feed what it needs your brain won't crumble depleated.
I'm on a mission to book first place, so when I'm awarded,
I must be applauded, stand and clap don't remain seated.
You need to accept it and expect it,
or quit while you have time to forefeit.
You will blunder under the sound of my THUNDER that goes round,
but if it's misheard,
I've got a box of frost to start biting,
but if that's squandered
and you carry on like a fighter,
I'll strike you with lightning,
one way or another you will not win top writer.
Respect the perspective that my rhyme is perfected,
and to conclude your rhymes are rejected.
Not to be rude but your seat's to be ejected,
it's not that you're bad it's that I am majestic.
9/27/21
Oh bollocks
An impact on health and the wallet
As an alcoholic
Do I know when to call it
No I don't know when to stop s***
I don't care about your trucks or cars with hydraulics
Am I too caught up in trying to frolic
Got to work towards being brolic
In order to be inside and out solid
Grew up in conditions that were squalid
From day one till now still people are being diabolic
It's become pathetic, if I'm honest
Like my life and addictions, so very melancholic
In a world that can be angelic yet also demonic
I've kept to myself, not wanting to be toxic
Staying rogue
Got problems of my own,
Need to try harder and use logic
For my own benefit as well as any on land, in the air, or the aquatic
Can't get anything done with hands in the pocket
I've got to take off quick
Like a rocket
For you, I left a box of chocolate
That I was able to shoplift
Just kidding, I bought it
But I don't want it
Or any fake love, that's just not it
I can't be on it
The real thing is what I intend to accomplish
Got to work hard and not quit
Can't just give up and drop it
I've understood that and never forgot it
Lord bless the nihility
of spirit and entity
'cause my mind is pallid
like a deaf actor
in a silent film
but I'm not craven
just frowned and mortal
antique in the name
of a poetic justice
hesitating no more
sleepwalking in time
one of the nervous eaters
I'm the oxygen moron
joining the armies
of heavenly damned
to luminize the libretto
at vanishing point
wounded and mesmeric
never mind the bollocks
whatever they say
I'll always complain
A caravan for a Turkish
not a tommy gun
you took the jam out of my doughnut
periwinkle blue
a desert eagle is not a replica nor a diamond
sweet enough without the sugar
that my son is why we're here
I think it's you who should behave
bollocks
all bets are off