Best Crap Poems
Bob Dylan song- Gotta Serve Somebody
King Size Bull-Crap
You may be living in a king size house
Sleeping in a king size bed
Laying on a king size mattress
With a king size pillow for your head
You may have a king size diamond
And wear a king size ring
Or you may be living in a king size mess
Messing up everything
You may have a king size wallet
And you may have a king size car
But if you don't have a king size heart
It won't take you very far
You may use a king size mirror
For your morning face
Or you may dress up like a Barbie doll
With your king size make-up case
You may have a king size suit
And wear a king size tie
Or you may be living in a plastic bubble
Telling a king size lie
You may ride a king size Harley
Or a truck with king size tires
You may even be a fireman
Who puts out king size fires
Don't walk around like you're all that
From the bull-crap you've been fed
Just be yourself and just stay cool
Don't wear a king size head
Cat faeces in piles on the grass
I’m tempted to butt plug cat’s ass
But two solar cat scarers
Have stopped cat crap terrors
Their solar charged tone works first class!
No kitty poop piles this week
Though daily its cat poop I seek
There’s no turds on my lawn
I’m no longer forlorn
Cat’s crapping elsewhere, YES! I shriek!
King Pin and Needle Queen
Sitting in their court
The jester tosses coloured eggs
To amuse them with his sport
The king will catch a red one
The queen, she grabs a blue
But when they crack them open
They’re filled with chicken poo.
mud on your face flung dung comes around
18.01.04
Composed for Silent One's
Monoku 5: Cliche - Poetry Contest
"what goes around comes around"
When a know-it-all paints the wall
With your silhouette in excrement...
Do not engage the louse,
For a fly does not enter a closed mouth.
8/15/2019
King size bull -crap -collaboration
You may be living in a king size house
Sleeping in a king size bed
Laying on a king size mattress
With a king size pillow for your head
You may have a king size wallet
And a king size car
But if you don't have a king size heart
It won't take you very far
Rather dump you in middle of nowhere
You may use a king size mirror
For your morning face
Or you may dress up as a Barbie doll
With your king size make-up case
You may have a king size suit
And wear a king size tie
Or you may be living in a plastic bubble
Telling a king size lie
You may ride a king size Harley
Or with a truck of king size tires
You may even be a fireman
Who puts out king size fires
You may lose a king size Nation
Like a tree with king size rings
You may even be a salesmen
To invest in king size bling
Don't walk around like you're all that
From the bull-crap you have been fed
Just be yourself and just stay cool
Don't wear a king size head
15/8/2018
I've started my stand-by diet: a few different fruits each day,
and having repeated it time and again, I feel qualified to say
apples, unless of a rare and crisp nature, are mushy and generally gross.
Halfway into the core of one, I'm still starving and feeling morose.
The diet's mainstay, pineapple, for its fat-burning enzymes revered,
when fresh, is somewhat palatable.
If it's green, though, ones mouth can be seared.
And that popular phallic banana, which when peeled, fast begins to rot:
That one I'll leave for the monkeys though it's garnish for sundaes or not!
Tomorrow I'm finally in for a treat. It's a watermelon to eat.
But for all my thumping to test for its ripeness,
it well could taste flat and not sweet.
Blueberries, too, and cherries are good.
I wish there were more fruits like these.
However, I long to see them all "berried"
‘neath Cool Whip atop cream cheese.
Plums or grapes, frozen or plain, "not bad" until they are dried.
By the time I'm consuming ghastly prunes,
I'll be famished for food that is fried!
Mangoes, too, are on my list of what I must partake.
But (gag me) their texture lends the sensation
I'm swallowing snails or a snake.
I've noticed of late with this regimen, its slimming magic is slowing
as with each precious year's dissolution, my metabolism's lowering.
Next week (so I say) I'll banish forever this obsolete, once-potent "cure".
It long since has extracted from me any craving for food that is pure.
With a dull kitchen knife I took my papaya today and reverently sawed it.
With its flavor lingering there on my tongue,
it struck me it hinted of vomit.
*I'm not a big fruit eater as this shows!! This is a diet I will no longer pursue!
Next I should do a poem on how sickening it gets eating salads day after day.
Jan. 27, 2017 for Jamie Pan's "It's time for hilarious poetries"
Welcome to All Things Scottish –
If it's not Scottish, it's craaaapp.
When in Scotland, be a scot.
If you don’t wear T-shirt with the words
“If it ain’t Scottish, it’s crap”
You are other than a scot.
If you have not visited any Shoppe
For Scottish mom and pop fish’n chip
You are other than a scot.
If you have not visited Edinburgh Castle
And the homes of Sir Walter Scot
You are other than a scot.
If you don’t visit the old pubs
To drink Scotch whisky
You are other than a scot.
If you have not read Burns’ poem
My luv was like red red roses
You are other than a scot
If don’t put on the manly garb kilt
When you are getting married
You are other than a scot
Going on date first time
What brand condom selected
If not scotish, it’s crap.
==========================
Tenth Placement
For Catch Phrase Contest of Deborah Guzi
Hard to believe I'm slowing down
Never thought this day would ever come
Merrily cruising along
Oblivious to all the small changes
Suddenly I'm forgetting things
Or how to do something
That I've been doing by rote
For too many years to count... I'm scared!
My mind goes wild thinking
Of what the future has in store for me!
When I was younger
The thought rarely occurred to me
Almost as if that final day
Was forever away... then WHAM!
It hit me like a ton of bricks
Started wondering, will it be tomorrow
Next week... next month
Don't usually dwell on it
But can no longer ignore it
Sadly, no one escapes
Even the most mighty and powerful
Will finally succumb
CRAP! POOP! And all that stuff!
© Jack Ellison 2014
There was a man named Hickenlooper.
Who invented a dog poop scooper.
Something went awry
Flinging contents into the sky
And stinking the town into a stupor.
One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-three
That's a crap load of poems I've scribed
Still got that many and a whole bunch more
You might think I silently imbibe
Don't need no joy juice to write these gems
They literally flow without ceasing
Can't keep my fingers quite limber enough
Also get a signal from my wee thing
Must pay attention when old nature calls
It's time for a trip to the toidy
Or I run the risk of total embarrassment
And wind up with my undies all moisty
Don't dare get it checked might find I need help
“but I'm totally normal” I protest
“That's not what this CT scan has shown us
It's exactly what we had guessed”
Likely gone loopy in the noggin it appears
I've finally gone over the edge
Tumbling headlong into the scary unknown
Ready for whatever lies ahead
© Jack Ellison 2015
Royalty
Presidency
Emperor
King
Prince
Princess
And duke
All these man-made titles
Make me want to puke
It’s such a load of crap
Pining for these freaks
This pedestal treatment
Friggin reeks
Oh you’re so much better than me
I’m so blind with admiration
That I can’t see
That you’re just like me
You live
You feel
You do as I do
But you act as though you’re the elite few
I can only see it for what it is
Just a load of crap you spew
All I can say of this lunacy
Is excuse my truancy
Eric (and sometimes not)
A professor has published his thesis
On removal of impacted faeces
Use the end of a pencil
Or a kitchen utensil
to dislodge clumps of faeces in pieces!
Told you it was a crap poem!
05/14/20
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
Na- Nu Na-Nu
greetings earthlings How do you do
I'm captain Zendor from planet Sur Render
shazbot someone crashed into my spaceship's fender
hit me so hard made me go krap-poo