Best Cretins Poems
Oh noo' It has happened again.! I thought we had escaped the continual scene:
forever falling down, and ya know what people actually celebrate it..?
and we'd thought we were safe here) a place where you had sympathetic support,
ITS NO GOOD..! that's what it isn't..' at last here was a chance at last to get time to
create our own poems, after being famous for all this time..' and we never had the chance
of creating our own stuff..' at least when we were killed off out there it was only by the
cretins..! now it has happened here, its a spiritual thing, sob.' boo-hoo, I saw the
shadow though..! it was a pale one..and we felt a vindictive force, and then our whole
new world shattered.' I wonder how would some like it? you have been being pushed about since
1643, whoever did it must be a cold hearted and lonely person..' I remember reading
reading some lines somewhere about just such a writer, hmm..' and now I'm a ghost and its
all down to someone..! Dumpty...that is who I am now..And down in the dumps BUT I AM MAD
MAD MAD and determined..! I can get revenge, I shall snoop in on any soup mail & nasty remarks
and so on; I can do that because I am a ghost now..! we had such a hard life early on at
the abbey farm there was ole aunt Patricia she was strict always minding our p's & q's
for us always saying we didn't do enough, then after Dad left us 'I was hard' but I never wanted
to be lost and nasty like she was, oh she was a stickler for 'rules' pashaaaw...! never
changed her life though did they...? hmmm, what to do next.? I don't know though if I
really should go down that road, it would be a contradiction of all I have tried to live, by
even through that nasty war, right up to now I suppose..' look! if I became like that I would
probably be going around with a horrible hot anger inside me, it would be like a big heavy
stone where my heart should be..! Oh you know what I mean.! and what would I do next.?
after I track them down.. after, I DESTROY THEM UTTERLY))) what then old egg? I
don't know what to do I feel as if I am being 'almost coerced ' here.. and I've heard
about the other place..' its hot they say, with a big black iron round thing..' I don't think
I would like it there, Oh if only Humpty and Dumpty could be here together again..'
Categories:
cretins, anti bullying,
Form:
Narrative
Blood And Water
Father.
Mother.
Brother.
Sister.
Aunt.
Uncle.
Cousin.
Grandfather.
Grandmother.
And friends.
Ashes is ashes,Dirt is dirt,Skin is skin,
And blood is thicker then water.
No matter how many times I say this,
No matter how many lines,obstacles and curses
I'll come running with words of undoubtedly trust.
Hurry for I hear the steels coming,Hurry for I see
The guns rising,Hurry for I smell hate coming
From the cretins,Hurry theses are the words I shout from
My mouth.Bound by bondage,I won't forget your words.
I'm being destroyed,but I won't forget your face.
Now I'm buried,but I won't forget our live's.
This by death,one by one being torn apart.
No not by death but by life.The lives we live tears us apart.
Our pride forcing us to choose one or the other,
What's your choice?
If it was only skin then with a needle and thread,
I could sew us together so that well never forget our blood Just there.Believe me,keep me,hold me.Why is it who runs From me?There is no cowardice in forcing the truth.
There's Ashes,Dirt,Skin,and Blood is what makes a person.
When the lies in tangle us,the truth is like a spear through The soul.Now matter the scars there's someone to bandage Them up.This is what it means to be Family.
Categories:
cretins, brother, caregiving, daughter, father,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Occasionally we should expose the wackier lobe of the brain
in order to better appreciate the more sensible side of the mind.
~THIS is one of those times...
I capriole between my arabesques
fugaciously spasmodic in fluxes and leaps
indifferent to their misanthropic mocking
and cheeky syncopated schisms
BUT LET THEM SCOFF!
I derogate their arrogance
in silent smirking repudiation
for they know not of the decoctions
spating rapidly through my veins,
nor of the massive assemblage
of my miscelany grey and white matter.
The mordant humor of this absurdity
is that I am irrationally rational...
psychotically speaking;
I am dripping with percipience
sagaciously intelligent beyond the measure
of those cretins who kvetch, pule, and postulate
that I am strabismic and nonsensical as a loon.
After reading this write of gelastic absurdity,
it's become mereticiously opaque to me
that my discourse is oxymoronic, OR
I am a dimwitted addlepate.
There is more than one kind of crazy!
*********************
A translated version of the above nonsense,
so now Jan doesn't think she's hopelessly lost.
I dance as if I were a ballerina,
a total klutz, but I don't care
if they laugh at me.
LET THEM MAKE FUN!
I don't care if they smirk at me because
they don't know what I feel or think.
The funny part of my silliness is that
I'm really rational, pretending not to be.
I'm really smarter than I look or act
so let those idiots say that I'm
as crazy as a loon.
Now that I've read these words,
it's clear to me that nothing I've
written is clear. Soooo....
I'm either clever at writing an oxymoron
OR I'm crazy.
Categories:
cretins, silly,
Form:
Free verse
Blunt deadly weapons of mass destruction
electrify, fracture, and
jeopardize *****Sapiens
species (and entire biosphere)
continuity rent asunder
doomsday declared (nuclear winter
gallows humor spelt
with eternal snow day)
dystopian authors outflanked
nuclear fallout wreaks worst
rocky horror picture
effected upon mankind
global (worldwide)
big screen radioactive
wee willy weber webbing
materiel severely seared
sepsis poisons deoxyribo
nucleic acid future generations
organic fiber cursed
simultaneous single simulcast
broadcast airs live after Royal Wedding
audience participation demanded
bumping ugly fleshless
formed fruitless fatal fumes
anomalies all – blinded
beastial begotten bemoan
brethren brood
brutal burnt offerings
crackling, snapping,
and popping surreal muck
shapeless liquified populace
sloshing helter skelter
quests slither towards
aimless destination
bone a fied skeleton crews cruise
crying cretins creep cavalierly
crepuscular cratered city
cruel mushroom clouds
cloaked croaking cellophane charred
cancerous clumps career,
clomp continuously
chaos charts choking climate
cold comfort commanded collusion
commander in chief concurred
crumpled coveted constitution credo
crass conceit communicated
cooly came clean concerning
consensual coital cavort
crazy cream craving characterized
condoned combined crunching
crotch crab free **** -
condom free crux
contractual commingling
cashiered coverup
chic chica chick
cigerette chewing
clutched cocked club
choked chicken concluded
das capitol business
before he returned
to regularly broadcast program
the sea son finale
last chapter of human race
no winners, nor survivors
bleak contaminated Earth gasping
heaving jackknifed lost in vape
nonpareil planet reduced to vapor!
Categories:
cretins, 10th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
“Go west young man”, the neighbors said; but they wisely stayed at home.
From pianoforte to pianoforte, saloon to saloon, town to town I roam.
Surrounded by Phillistines, “soiled doves”, cowpokes, and dullards,
Gamblers, dealers, dance hall girls, and other assorted drunkards.
If a fellow’s feeling generous, he might leave something in my jar,
Or even offer me a drink of the “good stuff” behind the bar.
I guess my fortune can be made where folks are hot, dry, and thirsty,
Playing sad songs on old pianofortes that are musty, dusty, and rusty.
I grew up playing Beethoven, Chopin, Bach and Wagner.
The only songs these cretins know are all by Stephen Foster.
A gambler in a pink silk shirt once asked for a Franz Lizt tune.
I was so surprised, I fell off my chair, to the amusement of the room.
The “faded rose” smells like a horse, and looks the worse for wear.
But if a few more drovers buy me beers, I probably will not care.
If I should wake up next to her, I won’t know what to say.
But she’ll just pretend to be asleep as I quietly slip away.
Through hazes I might recognize a face; or maybe they all look the same.
But in town’s like Rotgut, last night’s best friend won’t remember your name.
I hope someday, somewhere I’ll find a good pianoforte in tune--
But that’s something I’ll probably never find in a one-street town saloon.
If they don’t happen to catch my name, “Eighty-Eight Fingers” will usually do;
That’s all any of them remembers anyway, after they’ve had a few.
Categories:
cretins, addiction, america, humorous, music,
Form:
Couplet
A grotesque gamer gobbles gummies grunting gleefully at his game.
Sounds of slaughter spewing from the surround sound speakers.
The cunning commando combats a clearing 'cross countless cretins.
Validating his victory only after violently vanquishing the virtual villains.
Categories:
cretins, adventure, computer-internet, death, fantasy,
Form:
Alliteration
Back TO THE BARNYARD
I slip outside, my tail a twirl
where my whiskers test the breeze.
Such disgusting cretins so uncouth
and a few that make me sneeze. (HISS)
I slink and skirt past porcine ones
and the cows are crashing bores.
yellow chicks, forbidden fruit
or they’ll toss me out the door. (MEOW)
I pause to sit, stare down the cock
as he struts and preens for show
I ought to bat him once for luck
but those humans… well, you know. (YAWN)
Off to work at my specialty:
feline hunter-cruel and cold.
My fur goes up and my ears go back
For this mouse will not grow old. (MMMROW)
Categories:
cretins, animal, cat, farm,
Form:
Quatrain
You let them persist and say nothing at all.
Your futures dissolve and fortunes free fall.
Critics add nothing but choice caterwaul.
Stand up and resist or do nothing at all.
You let them persist and say nothing at all.
Cowards shout wildly in visions so small.
Few stalwart sailors and those they keelhaul.
Stand up and resist or do nothing at all.
You let them persist and say nothing at all.
Each face grows forlorn as cretins loom tall.
They lack everything save venom and gall.
Stand up and resist or do nothing at all.
You let them persist and say nothing at all.
The vultures swoop in. The hyenas maul.
Consume your courage. Roll up in a ball.
Stand up and resist or do nothing at all.
Categories:
cretins, allegory, philosophy, social
Form:
Quatern
Was Santa pushed? let the Jury decide
The Jury are gunning for Terry's hide
Terry then started to wail
Because they denied him bail
They then charged him with violent Santacide.
"Not guilty you cretins it wasn't me"
Judge asked" are you pleading insanity "?
While the Judge was distracted
Terry moved quick and acted
Hopped over the court railing and was free.
For now anyway
Written 30th November 2022
Categories:
cretins, humor,
Form:
Limerick
I'd been living for years with dysfunctional peeps
It was when, and not if, I would murder the creeps
They completely deserved it, you'd better believe
And their deaths were not hardly an item to grieve.
I decided to kill them in different ways
And I proved to myself, see, that crime really pays
I was never found out, as the years rolled on by
It was luck, and rehearsing a heartbreaking cry.
I took special delight in the irony there
That so many were fooled by emotions laid bare
It became habit-forming, and made me so proud
Turning cretins to corpses, then mourning out loud.
The dumb cops were so clueless that I felt their shame
They admitted they hadn't a culprit to blame.
But this isn't a novel in which a gumshoe
Puts the pieces together in fingering you.
So I'll bid you Adieu, Adios, and all that
And return to my Soaps as I slowly grow fat
On the funds which I pilfered by changing their wills
(Yes, I sleep well at night, I just take a few pills.)
Categories:
cretins, bereavement, betrayal, conflict, eulogy,
Form:
Quatrain
128
128
CharlaXFabels
UnderwaterLover
I do love you Charlie Blue My brown eyed merman I kiss your hand Down by the
sea Turn into me Eye love ewe fairest Ianthe just come there and drown me We
live in caves Awash with waves Anemones our flowers We pass the hours
Chasing turtle and fish Finding a lost kiss the hours at the sea make me weak in
my human form my fins allow me to swim but only to your arms the legs eye use
to walk allow me to be free but only fins can bring my back to ewe to kiss to
drown the underwater lover there she is my mermaid playing me I do love you
like the fish eye am used to better days sometimes sick and needing help yet I
do love you the merman is so far away When eye drown in the desert cactus
between the city and the mountain my mermaid kisses save me from the cretins
she is fighting for my life eye can feel her call my namme Charlie Blue I do love
you. Woman in the foamy waves
swimming near to me, my love it comes. It is a heart, a mermaids heart. My
brown eyed merman I do love you eye love to watch the shrim:Pe crawl across
the ocean sea she feeds them to her strang pelican and water can be breathed
by a Knight of drownded love. This was harder to do than it looks adding verses
sent to me from she who loves the eye then reaching somewhere south to find
the love to add the words to add our mixed and many feelings making this into
this fabel.
Categories:
cretins, art, dedication, family, love,
Form:
Prose Poetry
gently
before me
on a desk, or a table
rests the means to enable
me to craft a new fable
to run and leap like the sable
a squirrel scampering upon a gable
to perch on high
level with the treetops
even with the dew drops
before they appear on leaves and grass
and as the moments pass
above the uncouth, the crass, with aplomb and class
to perch on high
not a computer, monitor, or screen
but a single piece of white paper, pristine, clean
and a pencil, or a pen
this is one of my favorite things, always available again
for me to clutter up with poetry, it's a religeous experience, maybe a sin
to perch on high, and then, to fly
above this work of still life, a pregnant moment, this glory
how do i get across to a mere animal like many of we
the potential, the opportunity, the act of creation
the pantheon of art, intellect, and creativity, the nearly divine relation
of a pencil, or pen, and one single piece of paper, the correlation
of inspiration, asperation, imagination, an elations flirtation
with all of creation, and even with the Creater, all the world and history
all possible, sometimes, probable, once in a while, we'll get to Be,
creatively
this mere human being, this mammal, this fallable and maelable man
may one day be as close to God, as, say, a squirrel, a sable, a dog or a cat
created as perfect as God intended, then staying that way
us? this world is sick and evil, faded, jaded, and peopled with egos based
entirely on waste, differences of taste
being better than, largely by plan, and lies, by intention and ignorance, like flies
i was perched on high, minutes ago, almost
(computers, phah!)
there is a certain amount of gratification in crumbling up a piece of paper
when faced with the fact, that what i've created is trash
getting another one
setting it down
setting a pencil or pen on it
and starting over. perfectly. gently. what is that moment?
to fly
perfection, and me, trying to be, to become, to create,
really, it seems everything i write or draw is a waste of time
it was perfect before i picked up the pen, now look what i've done!
delete?
phah! can you think of a title, a word that defines the moment described?
p.s. i am ussually surrounded by malevolent cretins, nobody on this site is a mere animal,
my apologies if you are!
Categories:
cretins, artworld,
Form:
Who are these lug nuts?
Who are these featherweights?
Who are these slum bums?
Who are these cretins?
Who are these dimwits?
Who are these bird brains?
Who are these crumb critters?
Who are these sad sacks?
Who are these dullards?
Who are these rum raisins?
Who are these nincompoops?
Who are these louts?
Who are these Jim Dandies?
Who are these meat heads?
Who are these brow beaters?
Who are these fuddy duddies?
They all live in my bones
And sing like Tom Jones.
We are the chosen.
Later, Hosen.
Categories:
cretins, funny,
Form:
Free verse
Bill beat them to death. Verbose and belligerent, banal and brilliant, Hicks would beat
you with a joke until you weren’t sure it was funny any more. But you’d still laugh.
Advertising advocates he indicated, would be best dealt with through suicide. Like
lemmings, but really jumping.
Clearly he can’t have so concisely come down on those poor cretins alone. Blasting and
berating the bourgeoisie, leaving no stone unturned. Advocating erogenous interaction and
nature’s narcotics never felt so fresh.
He cut a legendary figure, shining in mono on the stage, an anti-hero in the spotlight,
questioning the questionable and querying great quandaries for our bite-sized attention
spans. All joking asides and jeering anecdotes. The great, the goat, Gods and grass
gripped us throughout.
In his own immortal words, life is just a ride. Rails and loops, dips and troughs. Thrills
and chills.
Bill’s the ticket inspector. Taking names and kicking ass.
Categories:
cretins, dedication, education, funny, nostalgia,
Form:
Prose Poetry
in the aftermath of global awakening
rotting limbs litter the barren landscape
festering corpses piled high as far as the eye could see.
the dying earth weeps tears of crimson
as the oceans turn from sapphire to ruby with the blood of a species of sin.
no man stands to walk upon her face once more
as the blinding light of truth has obliterated the entire population of forsaken fools.
cretins whom having their lives decided for them were unable to cope
when the empire they built their world around tumbled in upon itself.
Categories:
cretins, anger, beautiful, death, future,
Form:
Free verse