Best Contortionist Poems
Who'd have thought words make them react like this,
failing to see my wit, just the unattractiveness.
An eye for crudeness that'll overpower the humorous.
I'm sure within their brain a tumour lives.
Has your face ever felt the force of a fist?
It'll twist your perception like a contortionist,
because offence and pain aint two of the same.
One requires staples so that the blood's contained,
the other's just a thought you'd rather not maintain.
I get that neither are a source used to entertain,
but at the end of the day crudeness aint pain.
Offence is just a nuisance you choose to refuse,
it aint a scar, a cut or a bruise.
Scars are something you can never remove,
but when I got mine I made jokes that amused.
So can you help me now please and give me some clues,
when I'd been hit by a knuckle duster I was less confused.
Do you really feel pain when I'm crude and rude?
Please explain how words upset and leave you offended.
How does it feel and how do you end it?
Is it just simple natural sounds that you can't stand?
Compare that to soldiers losing limbs and can't stand.
If this is you I've just one thing to say my friend,
your life is easy if words drive you around the bend.
POTD
5/7/2018
Enter the Everest that devastates
as he never ever rests and demonstrates
his quick wit picnic of traits that place
with lickety split flicks on the page
the tricks of a contortionist wrist that emits embers at pace
as he commits and performs on the centre stage
with the impact of a storm from the biblical age
the act of an adorned prolific rampage.
Irresistible talent abundantly apparent
you thought you'd witnessed
ability but until now you hadn't
when the rest in the business
appear to be unskilled
and transparent
as their best rhymes diminish
right here to be unfulfilled
and redundant
thus divested of finesse
while it's clear to see you're thrilled
in this moment.
(Chorus)
You think you've got swagger but really you hobble,
you've got the jet lagger and you're drunk so you wobble,
don't start on me mate 'cus I will bring trouble,
to put it into slang words I'm Barney Rubble.
(Verse)
I will ruffle trouble
'cus I'm on another level
that bombs with the base
and stings with the treble,
I'll strut face to face with any ace rebel,
and put them in their place with their constant bull.
When I rhyme with my contortionist wrist
it expels a mist that sits around my fist,
I spell magic out on paper,
I'm playing with danger,
Mr. Wizardry the word selectionist,
squiggling fiction at speeds that feed friction
into rhymes that are non stop hot and cool,
so flames don't flame on the table top,
journey with me to witness the plot,
the earth shaker creator of perfected hip hop,
starting revolutions so that mumble is forgot,
dislodging the rust and rot it coughs that clots
and instating my Barney Rubble at the top.
(Chorus x2)
(Verse)
That last verse was just a small handful,
a sample of something that you cannot handle,
a scan like a bar code,
so lets open up the road and I'll unload these words,
I can't conceal this skill that rolls like wheels,
a Rolls Royce wearing heels,
in fancy halls doing dancing drills,
with golden walls
to an old skool beat treat.
I wont get signed up by any record label,
but I'm still rhyming better than mumble's able,
just admit you're tapping your feet to the beat
while my rhyme sits on top solid like concrete,
with the dancefloor crammed full,
they're pulling at all angles,
making the memories
that'll last 'til they're O A P's,
they think they've got swagger
and they're like Mick Jagger,
they're more like Sepp Blatter
but a little bit fatter.
(Chorus x2)
(Verse)
You can call me Trimendous and true,
you thought I'd flew crashed and was screwed,
but I took it back to what inspired my act,
an old skool hip hop sick rhyme attack,
I rhymed in flight with this write
and its smile's wild with sublime delight,
there are no poetic rare words
and I don't need swear words
in this dictionary spared verse
with airstream rhythm you can't burst,
I'm wearing this deserved set of words
that pilots and surges to my re-emergence,
a certainty that was never urgent
and not an encore from behind the curtains.
(Chorus x2)
Weird Carolyn
The other cheerleaders didn’t like football
Basketball was much easier to follow
But I got bored watching them dribble the ball
My response was hard for others to swallow
Growing up I didn’t have too many toys
So I had to find my own entertainment
I became a master of animal noise
When I “croaked” on the bleachers strange looks were sent
My frog impersonations left them aghast
When I did my seagull, the team stopped playing
They stared at me oddly as though I’d passed gas
They couldn’t relate to talents displaying
This was the first thing that led to my nickname
But once in class I was asked to give a speech
The teacher was writing, so bold I became
Her attention I was trying to beseech
Being a contortionist since childhood days
Locked one leg and arm, looked like a flamingo
I perched on one foot for each eloquent phrase
The teacher looked up and called me a weirdo
The class agreed and “weird Carolyn” was born
Frequently called upon to put on a show
Much laughter I bestowed, accolades adorned
Never understood why I didn’t have a beau
*Entry for Francine’s “Tell us something we didn’t know” contest. Okay, the secret's
out and I'm ready for my punishment. At high school reunions I'm still called upon to
perform.
bending my mind around his words, makes me feel like a contortionist
For Bobby May’s contest “Who Flips Your Trolley?”
Shark, the cat, is sitting catty-wampus today. He is a contortionist. His head is to the north,
His tail to the west, paws to the east, crossed in a southwesterly way, except for one which is
Somehow sticking up in the air like a lone feather. He is licking his Neverland region, as I step
Over him. At first when I noticed him on the porch, with all these extensions, I thought he was a
Fat, giant spider. Shark is an older cat, there is no way he should have this kind of agility, but
He does, and I am in awe.
Love comes in all
shapes and sizes – Thank God!
Myself having evolved in some
rather, undesirable directions...
But what is the same anymore?
Environmentalists say, not the sky!
Not the seas! (Seagulls flying off
with bees to who knows where?)
As those wide-open spaces – gone!
Concrete and steel having replaced
colorfully tinted rural faces, with grimacing
gray features – tenements rabid with crime
and moral filth...desperately in need
of far more heavenly graces – or, at the least,
the lofty illusions pearl-necklaced TV Moms
once gave us.
Libraries, the sacred cloisters of
of enchanted places and mystical dreams,
no longer bearing, at the least
informative fruits for deliberative
minds; such institutions polluted
with Liberal Politics, personal greed
coupled with insane hunger for
for power over more docile others,
a hollowing of the human soul
leaving a bitter emptiness
and disconnect where once
thrived the fertile seeds of cooperative
living...
So, what is the new normal?
Hell if I know! Politicians
speaking out of both sides of
elongated, medically enhanced
lying mouths – technically new?
Educators enunciating with their
backsides – but now their pant’s fully down,
Punctuating a Marxist agenda, their
transforming goals openly on display --
perhaps for them, a new honesty?
College students confused as to which
way to turn in bed – enough to confound
the most flexible contortionist….
Thank God for alcohol!
Shark, the contortionist cat, is sitting catty-wampus today.
His head is north, paws west, crossed in a weird southwestern way.
Wearing his glitzy tiara and a feathered boa of blue.
He will not take direction, and has a secret kill room, maybe two
He drags these little bitty animals up, and leaves their bodies for me.
Usually headless when I step on them, sometimes in two or three.
He brings snakes, rabbits, squirrels, moles, voles, and other critters too.
Shark, such a prissy haughty character. I am his clean-up crew.
Inspired by the Iron Maiden Song, Tears of a Clown
Drinking, he recalled the Circus Grim,
and the strange world that ruined him.
He had done anything for a laugh.
Once, the magician sawed him in half.
He'd traveled the whole country round.
Now tears fall from the circus clown.
An orphan child, running from disaster,
fell into the service of a cruel ringmaster.
At first, he was never seen on stage,
laboring to clean a hungry lion's cage.
In dreams, he wore a jewelled crown,
and he rose to fame and renown.
The juggler, fire-eater and contortionist,
joked with him and the beauty he loved best.
It was then, a drunken challenge, he made,
and, to his surprise she accepted, unafraid.
She caught his eye as she came down,
a moment frozen for a circus clown.
His secret love, he thought, flew like a dove,
enchanting him, like an angel above.
No matter how he tries, he won't forget,
the trapeze girl who missed the net.
He'll swill whisky until he drowns
in tears, the broken-hearted circus clown.
Elsie the cow was slower than molasses,
that's why they finally decided to put her out to pasture.
With Stormin' Norman around you'd tremble with fear,
because all around him was lightning and thunder in the atmosphere.
I try not to get into too much of a habit, of trying to figure out
what nuns wear at the abbot.
It doesn't matter to me if I get burned, especially since I'm ashes in an urn.
Debby couldn't figure out why people's smiles would suddenly flounder,
till one day her new nickname was Ms. Debby Downer.
My dog is generally nice; his bark being much worse than his bite.
After cleaning up the elephant poop, I finally admitted that my life was a zoo.
Two's company and three's a crowd, but not after a polygamists vows.
My stomach would almost always get into a knot, till I stopped being a contortionist.
One hand always washes the other, especially if you always bathe with your lover.
I almost always kill two birds with one stone, that is why they don't fly in pairs by my home.
A penny saved is a penny earned, that's why I always have Dollar Tree money to burn.
The early bird always catches the worm, I know because when I do I've seen them squirm.
Money doesn't grow on trees, if it did then there would be no more leaves.
I try not to wear my heart on my sleeve, especially if there's no tissues around and I have to sneeze.
Well I guess its that time once again to hit the hay as I keep reminding the bales not to misbehave.
I try not to cry over spilt almond milk, especially if its an off brand and not the expensive Silk.
I want to remodel my kitchen I think, everything that is but the kitchen sink.
They alway's claim that Elvis has left the building, then why do I always still see impersonators making a living.
I walk around with a big chip on my shoulder, which is great because I sometimes forget to eat now that I'm older.
And finally, I hope one day when I kick the bucket, that it'll travel far enough to go into the Guiness World Book of Records.
You'll see that in time
When the skies fade to gray
I'll be seeing you
When you squirm away
But baby
You'll be writhing back one day
Because you're on a rope
Attached to your neck
Attached to my feet
Got nowhere to go
Got nothing to see
So baby
Come back to me
Sit on the steps
In the alley alongside
My contortionist brain
Take off your slippers
Off with your berry beret
Take off your witchy attitude
It will all be OK
You were under my spell
Listen to what I don't say
Nothing will be this way
As the sky fades to gray
All goes away
All goes away
gluteus maximus left and right half moon cheek
re: byte size buttock
attached via usb (uniform firm behind) to this freak
with bowel movement incontinence + gas filled gut
evoking contortionist frown stretching to lowest peak
perched upon porcelain goddess where elimination did jut
held captive hostage atop toilet seat for many a week
exertion to expel rock solid turd required utmost effort
to force jammed bowel movement free
inducing excruciating abdominal cramps that really hurt
plus sharp jabbing spasms within high knee
innards rent asunder from obstruction as BB size PELLETS did spurt
from lodged fecal matter refusing to budge from me
caused by severe constipation whereby prayer a waste
delivered only increased sphincter muscle to scream
for rectal relief this mortal man faced
a worse fate than death, he would deem
since demise would allow alimentary misery to cease
versus remaining in this impasse for what might be years
unless perchance some **** lubricant or special grease
would bust loose abominable constriction in arrears
finding me unable to pay rent or renew lease
best prospect of remaining stationary with words to wax
poetic found a glimmer of luck
when a kind wildebeest delivered this message via fax
to help attend male in dire per situation get poop unstuck
with outsize mug of exlax
to help unclog rectal muck
access to get expunged to the max
but once expulsion occurs DO DO PLEASE DUCK!
I searched all night for a contortionist,
so that I might appreciate my own lack of flexibility.
She twisted my mind and body in the most pretzel of ways.
Even though I tried hard, I couldn’t achieve my Gumby aspirations.
In the end, she felt I was kinda Pokey, so she kicked me out of her bed.
As I walked down the street,
I contemplated the lawlessness of attraction.
There I was wandering around the rules,
wondering which ones I had broken.
Had I not tried my best to bend backwards?
She said I was stiff but not in the way that mattered.
What I wanted, apparently left her Wanton.
I could feel it in her perfectly formed aura.
She somehow lacked the liquidity to complete our transaction.
Still I admired her foot to neck accomplishments.
I had wanted to pole vault to new depths,
but my Noodled Udon couldn’t reach China.
From the beginning I was aching for her attraction,
but was left to watch her perform an exquisite Aria.
I am thankful and must admit, she played her instrument perfectly.
Leaving me mesmerized and completely
.....Astounded!
January 17th, 2020
A bit of humour to start your day. ;0)
Tantalizing paws upon her finessed bust
Potent mindful deception over her anatomy
Forced wrench of her vibrant razzmatazz cowlick
A metamorphic transformation within
Dissonant mar amongst her collar
Whomping breeze out of her bronchi
Writhing towards that holy grail
Orgasmic passion trickles down her spine
Contortionist psyche without a footprint of regret
A Woman brimming with a phobia of reality
Demands to be exposed to her rightful residence
In this hideous terrene around her
gluteus maximus left and right half moon cheek
re: byte size buttock
attached via usb (uniform firm behind) to this freak
with bowel movement incontinence + gas filled gut
evoking contortionist frown stretching to lowest peak
perched upon porcelain goddess where elimination did jut
held captive hostage atop toilet seat for many a week
exertion to expel rock solid turd required utmost effort
to force jammed bowel movement free
inducing excruciating abdominal cramps that really hurt
plus sharp jabbing spasms within high knee
innards rent asunder from obstruction as BB size PELLETS did spurt
from lodged fecal matter refusing to budge from me
caused by severe constipation whereby prayer a waste
delivered only increased sphincter muscle to scream
for rectal relief this mortal man faced
a worse fate than death, he would deem
since demise would allow alimentary misery to cease
versus remaining in this impasse for what might be years
unless perchance some **** lubricant or special grease
would bust loose abominable constriction in arrears
finding me unable to pay rent or renew lease
best prospect of remaining stationary with words to wax
poetic found a glimmer of luck
when a kind wildebeest delivered this message via fax
to help attend male in dire per situation get poop unstuck
with outsize mug of exlax
to help unclog rectal muck
access to get expunged to the max
but once expulsion occurs DO DO PLEASE DUCK!