Best Bummed Poems
The first few days, I was just bummed out
I missed my girls, but knew what it was about
Days turned to weeks, phone calls rang through
Hearing they didn't like me, not much I could do
My life went to hell, I drove it there fast
Things are now better, thats all in the past.
The first few visits, the trial run
We warmed up a little, we had some fun
Visiting me in the hospital, quite a surprise
Even at my worst it gave me a rise!
Now the phone calls come 3 times a day,
I hear about school, know what they play.
It's been almost a year, and I wasn't sure
How much pain we all could endure.
But as things get better, i'm excited to say
I'll even get to see them later today!
We'll talk and we'll play, practicing for...
Being the daddy I was was before.
Yes I did it, it was me
When I had to go pee pee
I never put the seat back down
Now my woman wears a frown
Her white toilet is now yellow
I am such a stupid fellow
In trouble because that night
She had a hair curling fright
Half asleep and half awake
It did not take long to break
Her out of a sleepiness
When she sat in a moist mess
I left a minute before
She stumbled in the bathroom door
Now my wet bummed sleepy "zombie"
Is now torturing her sorry
Hubby who no longer can
Go pee like a normal man
I have to sit every time
For this not so funny crime
Oh, you’re cool. Deck.
With your battered copy of Naked Lunch
tucked away in your thrift-store
-satchel, it’s definitely a satchel-
that holds your cigarettes,
the ones you bummed last Wednesday,
and the extra scarf you keep with you
at all times
just in case your neck gets cold,
which it seems to often,
even though its brother is always
wrapped loosely around your neck.
That iPod in your hand
with the huge headphones
-for better acoustics-
is playing that band you like,
the one with the synth player
who can also play both
the didgeridoo and keytar
at the same time,
but I don’t think that’s the reason
that they only have five fans
or that that’s why you like them.
It’s okay,
I won’t tell your friends that
you pay your rent with a trust fund.
-Isn’t that ironic?-
I’ll keep your secret
the way you keep quoting Kerouac,
who you only know of
because of high school English class.
And no,
I won’t tell them either
that you hate the taste of coffee,
and miss eating bacon,
and actually think that tattoo
of a Palahniuk quote
-“Your heart is my piñata”-
translated into Finnish
is not as clever as it was
the first time you tried cocaine.
But don’t worry.
I won’t call you a hipster.
That way you don’t have to
pretend to hate it.
What to do with no cell phone or computer for a day....
Sit at home, be bummed how things didn't go your way?
Or go outside and play like it's your last day?
What to do with no cell phone or computer for a week...
Would you keep up with friends and family?
Or stay home and play solitaire, indulge in your inner geek?
What to do with no cell phone or computer for a month...
Get in less car accidents
Have better relationships,
Gain patience,
Keep plans with those you love,
Have fewer bills,
Buy a phone book,
Buy a Camera,
Buy a CD player,
Be more creative,
Minus the styles,
If I could turn back time to the 80s,
I'd make efficiency experts eat their own greed gravy,
How much sweeter life would be.
I stripped down to my skivvies
Revealing all flab
Something is sagging
I think it's my BALLS
MAN! am I bummed
Can't examine the rear
Who would laugh
but the kids drinking beer
Their's are nice and firm
While ours is dragging skin
The bulge on my weenie
is old age coming in
When I go to the john
the diaper is smelly
especially the parts
that connect to the belly
When worse comes to worse
My uncle makes house calls
To the old and weary
geezers with sagging balls
My Super Power Is Contest
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
I have many powers handed down from generations,
My father gifted me many obscure competent abilities,
My favorite power is the capability of regeneration,
But being able to do that is probably a big liability.
I fly in the night and tomorrow’s sights appear,
My mind foresees the future as my arms spread,
I’ve seen the look in their eyes, astounded with fear,
As my hands whisk away objects over their heads.
The fated days arriving are seen when there’s trouble,
A gun may be shot and I can sweep away the bullet,
I immediately throw the perpetrator in a glass bubble,
I fly to the cliff, land and effortlessly push and pull it.
When danger arrives I sense the apprehension,
Poor lost souls can’t fight off demons themselves,
The towns people have absolutely no comprehension,
I’m bummed my powers are lost at the strike of twelve.
The witches and warlocks wish they could do what I can,
I don’t need potions to conjure up my fluent capacities,
They gather and get jealous with rage and don’t understand,
They try to compete, how dare they have the audacity.
See, my powers have been given to be used for good,
I’ve learned to adapt and fill my spirit with adoration,
I realize many people get confused and are misunderstood,
I have many powers handed down from generations.
Date Written: June 7, 2016
There was a man who was thought to be numb,
Some even said he was dumb,
But he tried to live a good life,
Married a wonderful wife,
And all his critics were bummed.
His friends were pretty sparse,
They'd rather he be a farce,
It's lonely to live in Truth of course,
One must be as strong as a horse,
...Much easier to be his ****.
I Wanted To ‘Get Away’
By Curtis Johnson
Without naming the company, one of my favorite commercials use to be the one featuring ‘embarrassing moments' and closing with the question, “Wanna get away”? Many years before those commercials were conceived and popularized, I had such a moment in one of my college classes. It would have been a great time to get away, or disappear, or for a fire drill moments before, or for “The Rapture”.
The class size was no more than 15 plus the teacher, who was a rather friendly and smooth character. I think that it was my second year at Bible college where I was studying for the Gospel ministry. This was most definitely a required class for anyone seeking to be a public speaker. So I was well suited to excel in my Homiletic class, or so I thought. I did fine later on during the year and more that just pass the course.
But for some reason on that particular morning, when it came my turn to stand before the class and preach my sermon, I bummed out. My subject matter was fine, and my three points were well defined and organized, but just after the introduction of my message, I froze and forgot everything. The teacher and the class were great and very supportive. I do not remember if I managed to pull through it or whether I was forced to sit down. What I do remember is that, in spite of the kind spirit in the room, I was very embarrassed.
Yes, I became a pastor and preached hundreds of sermons and spoke in public on many other non church functions. No, the ‘freeze’ never happened again, and I suspect that I was to ever remain humble and never think myself to be a great speaker. And also, one embarrassing moment was more than enough for me, and I think that I learned my lesson well. 09282015. 1P
Yepper-doddle, today I’ll use my own noddle.
My prized antique frame sustained a despised bust.
Wanting to show my man the tough dough in my crust,
I found strong glue and told that goo I was nonplussed.
Next, I grabbed frame, soda and sat on my sofa.
Three tries – no prize, so with both eyes quite wide,
I called the glue a boob lube, dumb as a square loop,
and threatened to incise its worthless insides.
I rose, fetched pose and a calming balm libation,
then returned to pestering with less sweltering.
Glue applied, both sides, I made my hands a vice
and, well fries n’ flies, I squeezed degrees of might.
Bullet sweat, my muscles clinched like a barrette,
I pressed longer than tourists eating pullets.
Then when gingerly, tenderly letting go –
glue thoroughly, tauntingly offended me -
son of a bee, ugly as his glue-mom-harlot,
refused to seam my antique frame back to its gleam.
Past bummed, I stood to sweetly summon my husband,
but my feet stuck to carpet, mucked as a tar pit.
CayCay Jennings
October 16, 2018
Let me rap to you about where I'm from.
Sidewalks are broken, weeds grow through the cracks.
The people that use them are like the sidewalks,
broken and bummed out.
They have handles like Turkey, Louie the Bum, Sand man.
No one's hip to their real names.
They all think they're righteous.
Me, they call me Kid, so don't be freaking out,
no one cares, it is what it is.
All we care about is the hustle.
The next minute, then the minute after.
So it goes.
This, is my school, I'm hip to it.
In these alleys, on these sidewalks,
where no one can tell if the garbage man came,
where rainbows are neon, books are painted words,
scrawled on concrete walls.
It's where you can get sliced for a joint,
and die for seeing what you shouldn't.
It's cool, don't sweat it.
It's another realm man, so don't flip your wig.
No manicured grass here, only advertisements for whiskey.
Are you hip to it, what I'm laying down.
Listen up my brother, cause I'll be bookin.
In this place, pain is a commodity,
sold by dealers and pimps.
Can you dig it.
I gotta split man, before the fuzz comes.
So hang loose, I gotta drop a dime,
to my connection.
Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side.
1960's slang
contest..Talk the Talk and Walk the Walk
When I was a child my birthdays came
As seldom near as never.
While now it seems they’ve speeded up
And are coming at me ever.
I’m sorry to be such a jerk;
I really need your shoulder.
I’m bummed each birthday when it comes
Will find me one year older.
The hands
are quick
to pick
the keys
to play
the tune
"Chop Sticks"
No sharps
or flats
Go left
Go right
Move up
and down
white keys
to pound
to make
the sound
of glee!
The blacks
are bummed
they missed
the fun
to make
a song
so bright!
__________________________________
For Contest: United Colours: Black and White
Sponsor: Silent One Image #1 Piano Keys
3/7/16
Feeling bummed out, don't know why, the only emotion I feel is, I want to cry.....
Feeling bummed out, don't need a reason, I get depressed no matter the season.......
Feeling bummed out, and I don't even care, for on my sleeve, it's my heart that I wear.
There was once a thin plumber named Stipe
Whose large wife always nagged with a gripe
She was constantly bummed
For each time that he plumbed
He came up inches short with his pipe
Well, he asked and he asked her to hush
Still, the scolding continued to gush
So he fit his wee shlong
With a pipe, extra-long
And the nagging was gone with a flush!
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Limericks" Poetry Contest, Joseph May, Judge & Sponsor.
(Syllables counted at HowManySyllables.com)
[ Form - Rap ]
( "Love's Survival" is a paucity. The proper dress is ice-skates and blind-folds. - © 1998 - R.W. )
what to do about Plato of late
the Greeks convinced
and about Pluto
lost planet status
he-haw atmospherics since
lost again when earth's bit brawl is done
say fie to sun and moon
who glaze your suspect skin
born of light
some bummed else
styles back up to air tumbles
traffic stumbles
write poetry
the kind
obscure agrees
always something sticks
as world goes why
unmasked
erasing blue
long after head-lamps cool
corners tangled fools
who think they may get rich
reform in morning phenomes
songs of lovely aches
all for your sake
maybe me too
The sorry state of stars
they dont know where they are
the mice of earth
haggle sparkle verse
the awful beauty breaks
to spell your name
music intimates
the crippled rain
or just wear a funny hat
identity looms
found exactly where
you thought she'd gather
how she longs
each winged gesture
plain or complete
to be anywhere
anyone else
assay
any New York street
a poem
or Heaven's Gate
of ladder games
___________________
Notes:
1. Symbolic Poetry: A regurgitated commons.
2. Intentional obscurities wont thrill nirvana and bus fares remain alleged.
( cutting-edge technique for placing tongue in cheek ).
( a tooth-full... wouldn't you say? )