Best Brown Nose Poems


Premium Member If Mama Ain't Happy

"If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy" One of my favorite quotes by a man named Ron Hall

If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
Tell that to each kid and his or her pappy.
Some moms can be weird, but think of all they do,
especially the pain they went through delivering you!

If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy..
So even when life might seem a bit crappy,
it's probably worse for your dear mama.
Don't whine and complain, causing more drama.

If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
Show your own mama that you can be zappy
by eagerly helping her. Be on your toes.
It won't kill you either to even brown-nose.

If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
On this Mother's Day be a bit sappy.
Respect her. Adore her. To her wisdom defer.
And do for your Mama what most pleases HER!

Teacher's Pet

In every class I’ve taken yet
There’s one who longs to be
A brown-nose, suck-up teacher’s pet
And man, it bothers me!

The one who always answers first
Or quickly volunteers
To hand out what must be dispersed
Ahead of all her peers.

The one who helps the teacher out
With every chore and mission;
Whose smiles are phony, there’s no doubt,
Just like a politician.

The one who needs the spotlight’s glow
And thus, appears quite greedy;
But more than likely, that’s not so – 
She’s probably just needy.

Yet from the teacher’s point of view,
That pet makes life real easy.
The rest of us, however, find
Such actions really cheesy.

Premium Member God Asked Me

One day, one time, God spoke to me.
The Creator who knows everything supposedly,
had a question that needed answering from yours truly.
"You're always helping others in need less fortunate than you,
and many of these people aren't particularly liked by you.
Why do you do all of the charitable things that you do?
What's your reward? What's in it for you?
Most times you commit these acts anonymously,
so you receive no recognition, no praise, no publicity.
I Am All And Know All but this baffles me.
Why do you do what you do SillyBilly?"
My reply to my Creator was simply,
"The meek shall inherit the earth and live heavenly
as promised by my Creator of all that is and will ever be.
My Creator has shared that People Helping People is the key
and I'm just doing what I can to relieve my Creator from some of the responsibility.
It's just my way of saying, Thanks For Creating Me."
My Creator then looked sadly down upon me
and said, "I don't know how to say this, but I'm very sorry.
You are hereby sentenced to hell for all eternity.
I need to work on this. Guess you could say it's my pet peeve,
but I don't tolerate any of they who brown nose their deity."
My time spent in hell has dispelled all of the rumors
about God not having a dark sense of humor.


I Am Not a Lamb

A Wolf...A Lamb...A Wolf

Forgetting myself...started with me
To be sweet, to be quiet...to fit in.
Conformity!
Impress by agreement.  A Lamb I could be.
Convince all my thoughts; 
Copacetic is me

*So it began...
My best thought is, I'm at peace.  I'm content. 
Be positive!   I can do this!  
Be like a lamb.   

Softly;  I'm a breeze.  Calm in my soul.
Gently I'll allow, only good thoughts to flow
Small, inconspicuous... I'll learn, it's me
Just nod in unison, always agree.

*I am a Lamb...

My favorite thought is;  
I'm about love, not despair.
Quiet my being.  
Silently there.
My thoughts do whisper, 
a pleasing hushed ease
'I am not conflict'
For lambs, only, please.
What?!!  

*I am a Lamb.

My finest thought is;  
I'm wonderfully bright.
As a golden suns warmth slowly softens my light.
Embrace others truths,  as they are my own.
So they won't see it, I can't be alone.  Suddenly. I feel 
like a liar!...A cheat!
Conforming isn't me!  
My own thoughts rise, to defeat.
Forcing their way, repossessing my soul
I am 'not' a lamb kept under control!
Fueling my mind, with courage and might.
My confidence is back!  Submission won't fight.

*I am 'Not' a lamb.

My true thoughts are; I'll regain what's been sold. 
Get back my old self, feel enlightened and bold.
My thoughts are not truths!  What I believe, is my right! 
My true self is brave!  Be damn sure, I will bite!

*I Am a Wolf

My only thought now is;  I'm seeing me, so clear.
I am 'not' a Lamb,
I'm a Wolf without fear!
To deviate or follow.  To protest or agree.
My thoughts are my own! 
To decide, up to me

*I AM a wolf!

Now, I am genuine.  Honest and free.
I'll behave as I choose,  I've re-found the true me! 
I will brown nose to no one or be a doormat for love.
Take me or leave me, herein and above.
I'll be contented and scrappy, 'cause that's who I am!
Definitely a Wolf. 
Not particular to Lamb.




I Will not comply
I Will not lie down
I Will not go quietly
I Will not submit
I Will not roll over
I Will not shut up

I Am Not a Lamb!

During a Round of Golf At Pebble Beach

On Pebble Beach's seventh green
I paused to watch an otter.
He dove, cavorted, spun around,
An acrobat on water.
Then lolling, drifting, eyeing me
He twitched brown nose and whiskers.
His thought, that moment, mirrored mine:
"He plays all day, that rascal."
© David Bose  Create an image from this poem.

The Modern Knight

 The modern Knight 

The Knight of the realm ,
Was a great man of courage,
Who protected the people,
Got dubbed by the King,

The bravest of brave,
Moralitys brightest,
Loved by the people,
Now the rich mans plaything???

But it became some snobs, crass title,
Given to Kerrs, and curs aint the thing,
Class distinction, from above, call me mister or sir? 
The greatest of toads, to serve the toad master,
Brown nose, hum dingers, billy stinkers, I ching,

Gee golly they call me mr or sir?
Right next to the saints,
I’ve risen old thing,
To keep me head down,
I’ll need on me bridle,
A martingale strong,
So me head doesn’t sing…

Don Johnson

THE ONE WHO ALLOWED 12 ATOM BOMBS EXPLODED HERE IN AUSTRALIA GOT KNIGHTED FOR SERVICE TO THE QUEEN:}  
ONLY 12 THOUSAND AUSSIES DEAD FROM STRONTIUM 90 IN THE MILK, AND ALL THE LITTLE KIDDIES GOT IT AT SCHOOL TOO IN THE FIFTYS... I REFUSED TO DRINK MILK AINT I LUCKY ???

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHBLBkYiCK4

check it out if you don't believe :{


Hand In Hand

It's a November
when I find myself walking 
My hand holding yours
Side by side arms swaying
Your little fingers interlocking with mine.
I believe it is a happy day.
I think it shows on your little sun-tanned face.
I feel it myself from deep within.
Slowly welling up like a spring of water
From a dry ground, long athirst.
I see the sun walking along gently in pace with us
Touching your brown nose and passing your limbs.
Blessing you with a soft radiance and blissful joy a child can only know.
Your school uniform lighter than cerulean sky 
Matching your gaiety, perfecting a mother-child moment.
Dotting the passing clouds with pure colors of your innocence and laughter.
Gigantic floating cotton balls of clouds
like stringed balloons; oh, please hold onto them, 
cease 'em before away they fly.
A moment to treasure when things aren't as happy as they should.
A many of this I pray to come,
A joyful carefree walk with my little boy;
Now, a mother's hand held by her small son.

Never Hit a Potamus

Never Hit a Potamus

Never hit a Potamus,
on his grey brown nose.
Cos' if you do, he'll flatten you,
by jumping on your toes.



For 7 year olds
Contest to follow
KS 28.1.18
© Kevin Shaw  Create an image from this poem.

Froggy Kiss



“Truth isn’t truth,”
that’s what some Cap’n Obvious toady recently said

He was pissy mad, when his angry tears wet the bed

Lieutenant Rudy Brown-Nose 
a has-been sniffing the swine caboose breeze:
Loco breath wafting 
between sulfuric methane,   prune puckered lips — 
sphincter pie holes half-closed

Politrician power tools pocket plugged into their patsy roles,
says with dark chaos authority: Everything is under control

Public trust pirates, 
		  dressed in 
			populist parrot disguise,
love $inging tavern song$
Foaming out the frothy, dark-amber lager lies 

Iscariot getaway chariots
be karaoke squealing yellow snow —  
highway robbery melodies

Money green
		dollar rain
golden showers

On silver cloud vapor piles,
sticky six-finger flies 
be spitting out 
buzz-kill dung beetle cries

Butt of the jokes be the wench reward
for the stumbling,
	power-drunk whores 

	Wet froggy kisses
scraping the sky
	for a few rubles more

$ee the neon $ign $potlight in the $ky,
it’s showing some Two-Face, penny-wise liar
(Riddling?)
Ritalin up the final justice score

Bat-crazy, Commish slum lord
got the Lewd tenant
boot-licking 
filthy lucre crumbs on the floor

Dog whistles got the railroad cage bent ... 
Wall Street woofers on a barf paid,  carny bark yell
Every foul commodity bowel movement
do slug leave a regurgitated profit stench vomit trail

While the vote suckers are on the slow buy,
their Good Ship Lollipop is on a quick sell 

“Truth isn’t truth,”
is what some Cap’n Crunch croaker just said

That’s a mouth full of self-serving, apron purse ties
Sweet Georgia boo pecan pie is tasty cow pucky lies
Go on ... take another covetous slice, 
and a couple more burglar bites

		Wet froggy kisses
scraping the sea below
		for a few dollars mo’

Spitballing Prince of Tides
		love muddying the waters so 
Sold old truths as new lies

“Truth is truth,”
ain’t what some Cap’n Ahab toady just white lie wail said

It crocodile aqua lava seems 
		the Cap’n Nemo Lying King 
is gonna sleep well tonight, on your hot Pompeii water bed

Never I Did


I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
I never cared for your fake
Eddie Haskell face at all
Your tart tongue cut my birthday cake ...
seedy, greedy hands took a slice not small
This here Beav got a nose that can tell,
and you no good weasel got a bad putrid smell
Your flattering lips
is always greasing the dish spoon
Serving up hollow compliments every time
your pitter patter enter the room
Been hearing your chitter chatter far too long,
the gift of your gab is like a warped vinyl song
You’re an annoying teapot whistling on and on
I never liked you,
and your bad breath words 
that smell like dung
I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
I never took a shine
to your Lady Conniva brown nose talk
Always got your face between the buns,
making it real hard for a person to walk
Your motives are naked to me,
my open eyes they can rightly see
You got a wrong purpose in your heart,
don’t really care about nobody but you
But I ain’t gonna let you getaway go-cart
with whatever it is you’re planning to do
Because I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
Saw right thru your phony facade too
Yes, yes ... yes I did
I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
Never did like you
Now how you like that — 
hearing the truth!

Right Hand Man


Coulda been
the Hand of the Lying King,
if I didn’t tell the truth so much

Coulda been
Caesar’s right hand man,
if I was kill willing 
to have a shogun trigger touch

Coulda been
chief consigliore renown
for the don Corelone spiked crown
But I never wanted to know 
where the blood money 
was body bag buried underground

Coulda been dark knighted Haman Faustian
All I had to diablo do was unjust be Equus no-good;
give breaking bad Darth Vader viper counsel,  wearing a cobra hood
Terminator words that would crush the skull bones

Coulda been  the Vice Hand
standing behind the golden chalice image,
ruling drunkenly on the Babylonian Empire throne 

Coulda been
the Spartan Hand of the Grecian warlord,
but I loved peace too much

Told the Jezebel whisperers of the royal court,
don’t try to finger me to be the next flesh merchant of death ... 
I don’t tear traffick in such    ~    City-state grunts suffer enough

Coulda been
Caesar’s right hand hatchet man,
if I had promoted Herod cockatrice thoughts
to condor hatch crucifixion plans

If I had been parrot inclined
to whisper 
some patriot mischief in Pharaoh’s ear ...
I coulda been 
sitting next to the pirate power,
making the brown-nose boot lickers fear

Coulda been
the Iron Hand of the President,
if I truly had a crafty guile mind to
take a sticky dip ...
deep in them pockets of citizen you

Coulda been
the sixth finger of king Midas’ hand
But, breaking the golden rule,
just wasn’t the ambitious rear end 
I was willing to career bend

If I was more Balaam money bag motivated — 
Fee willing to put a Judas hand under the table;
and with an Iscariot silver patch-eye gaze, 
look the other way         as freedom get disabled

I coulda been
Pharaoh’s right hand man

I coulda been
the one who doused the torch
in Lady Liberty’s hand

I coulda been
Caesar’s right hand man

I coulda been
the one who lit the Pilate
in Nero’s hand

Coulda been
the right Hand of the Lying King,
if I didn’t roar the Judah truth so much

But I was born
a left hand of the Zion King,
who gave a righteous Resurrection roar, 
echoing throughout eternity

Premium Member Playground Politics-Writer's Notes

playground politics

we zap and zip
read my lips
we hide and seek
from teacher's peek
on swings
we wing 
on slides
we cried
marbles play 
swords we flay
should i repeat
another beat
marbles play
swords we flay
never mind 
what we find
king of the hill
jack and jill
story told
she was very bold
jill rode jack
on his back
right over there
under the stairs
we peered
like deer
we all hushed
behind a bush
it was all an act
that was a fact
two bunnies
rubbing tummies
that was it
don't have a fit
we are kids
yes we did
run the playground
round and round
dodge a ball
hide behind a wall
scrape a knees 
fall on a bee
hide behind fatty
flirt with patty
hide a corner
there's a loner
hop scotch here
volleyball there
shoot some hoops
assemble troops
we are kids
yes we did
run the playground
round and round
yet get this
gee whiz
stars and stripes borne
teachers scorn
now they come out
to shout
their eyes
and voices chastise
what fools
no praying, too
we cuss
and fuss
we play
our way
yet they dread
if we bow our heads
is this
not preposterous 
all i know politics seed
its ugly face bred



3/26/17-No rose again Note-Cyndi wrote in her critique (and I laugh at her) that it is demeaning to describe a child as fatty. Please. Can someone direct her and maybe the judges, too, to playground politics, anti bullying and the world that some of these kids face. It's called reality.Yes, they face this kind of ridicule everyday. It is sad. Yet would it be better to write a bunch of brown nose crap just to be politically correct? No. I just write what I see and feel, more of the pulse. No facade. And especially no artificiality that some here like to swim in.

Premium Member This Tear

This tear                                  So tightly held these salty tears                           
so tight my eyes squeeze                   embracing the We like long lost love
and yet you fall, fall with a weight            of remembrance returning to the earth
  of cares sinking in a fathomless lake of woe            moistening it without glaze.

This tear                                           Flicked freely from the corner of mother’s eye
dropping with pointed precision       upon pearl white cheek     flying momentarily...
  or running childishly from the tip    on the fingertips of joy 
beside a chocolate brown nose. Or in gasps of anguish too great for arms to hold      
Circles the world with the bounty of heart…

When released from imprisoned  chest
           bodes more than woe. 
                                  This tear defines the humanity of man.

Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Contest: Personify a Tear

* Do to the 12 line requirement this verse has been altered to be read both left to right and from top to bottom.

Filthy Is the Color Of


Some got a pathological need,
a dirty obsession for that coffin wallpaper
They wrapped themselves in the black widow veil
of murderous deceit
For what?
To taste the yellow snow 
of an unclean life   insurance policy,
a crimson crypt guarantee
They’re willing to scarlet signature go
to the pit of perdition below
With the gnashing of their plaque teeth,
their lying gangrene gums
have a bottomless covetous bleed

Oh how filthy is the color of greed!

Their gain green ways
is dirty money laundry madness
A purple reign whitewash rinse
is obscenely falling at a Faustian pace
The prince of this world
got them brown nose benders,
those bloodhound coin sniffers,
on a silver urn lucre loco motive chase

But the code blue folly of it all,
the gold digger worms 
do-do come to a flatline crawl

And that dollar bill cadaver feed
is a pink ink lip lust envy
for violet dye poison ivy —  
A sin dung beetle sordid concede

Oh how filthy is the color of greed!

Premium Member Both My Kids Have Birthdays Next Month

Is weird to be born
in society thinks is the 
greatest ever and for good reasons.

I was being breast-fed when my mom heard the news
of JFK
She remembers, I don't.

I don't member RFK either or even 
MLK, but what I will tell ya
is forty odd years later  doesn't ring true
that all three were
“random acts of violence”

We gotta get smart, people
trust our own brains 'cause I tell ya
what slave-owners don't want ya to know

Long as ya buy in to brown-nose ass kissin' consumption
you're riskin' your kids future and furthermore
the half-life for super-powers is about two-hundred
years, ask greece and rome
turkey, egypt, great brittain and so on

just sayin' think on it please
that's all.

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