Best Cruddy Poems
Poor old Farmer McGillicuddy
He’s somewhat of a fuddy-duddy
He plows with an ox
All progress he blocks
No wonder his corn tastes so cruddy
Not Be Another
No matter what may be Patriot's Play scheme,
None if it ever would spoil Seahawk's dream
And what appears to me to be amazing
Is having a football that people were hazing.
What unpleasant things to a football could you do?
Making it take a bounce not known to be true,
Or suppose something to football you applied
Which made ball slick after it had dried.
How about discovering a doctored up baseball;
Started to curve and then downward would fall,
After surface someone started to scratch;
Maybe for me they might make up a batch.
What if my basketball was underinflated?
And for a while longer we all had waited;
Ball now was much narrower each shot I took
Even if a free throw or could be a hook.
Who me my friend have an unfair advantage;
To my cruddy character apply a long bandage.
And when in Super Bowl, Series or World Cup,
Should never again be another cover up.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
http://www.story-telling-around-the-world.com/Military-Memories.html
PS. Check out military memories above.
Trump On A Funny Farm
Trump's lips do look like Donald Duck
Sad imitating palsied person when he does cluck
Like a cruddy chicken carries on and on
Sure hope pretty soon he will be gone.
Down people he will cut and criticize
Has short stubby hands and sleazy eyes
Then he really tries to put you to the test
When he starts a head-butting contest.
To keep up with Trump we simply refuse
Way people does mishandle and will misuse
Thought of him as President surely alarms
He belongs on either an animal or funny farm.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Bobby Brown threatened to knock me down
but Billy Blues took off his shoes
and with a barefoot blocked his fist
just as it brandished my wrist,
and even though they fought desperately in the rain,
neither bothered to complain.
They boxed and kicked and blew smoke
but neither even spoke.
Finally I cried, "Stop!"
"Belinda is calling a cop!"
So bloody and bruised, Billy put on his shoes.
Bobby was so muddy he looked really cruddy.
And though I felt bad because Billy was bloody,
I was bound to boast to my friends
how Billy had come to my defense.
And now Billy and me and baby makes three
and Bobby is history!
By: Carole O'Terry Duet
Copyright: Oct., 2016
"All Rights Reserved"
Feeling kinda cruddy, yup, that's the word
Too many fries, too many burgs
When will I learn I can't handle that stuff
Stomach rebels, starts causing a fuss
Once could eat nails and all kinds of gunk
Now I eat mush and ground up junk
My teeth are all gone, can't chew anymore
Things go down whole, my tummy gets sore
So such is the life of this senior type dude
Head for the washroom, each time I eat food
Food disappears like famous greased lightning
Or I sit there for hours, really quite frightening
Irregularity's my name, I'm Irreg for short
Hope an operation, I don't have to resort
An artificial esophagus transplanted in me
So I can go regular like it once used to be
Oh for the days when I could eat all that junk
Those days are gone, who woulda thunk
That one day I'd be eating my morning cereal
Laced with Metamucil or some such material!
© Jack Ellison 2012
and some days sitting, looking out of the
open door, to the tropical sunlit yard,
feels like being in a Goddam tomb;
but when the long-haired girls walk by
and smile that smile, everything looks
better and that's OK and life looks brighter
and I wake up a little more and dream of
honey and a hot M16, and I make coffee
on the black civil-rights stove, and Martin
Luther King shouts out, "I have a dream,"
and thats OK and alright, and life looks brighter
and the house across the way is decorated in
shame and the hookers hum dull tunes, and
play on their Gameboys, and discuss Columbia
and their vulvas, and the kids they never had,
but that's OK and alright, and life looks brighter
and the stealing monkeys come in and out, and
the furious, curious, crucified neighbours, come in
for sugar, or a loan, or to borrow a dream, or ask
for my phone; and that's OK and alright, and life
looks brighter
and the sharp cruddy, thud, thud, thud, of music
from the disco hall, makes the bad girls dance and
the boys smoke dope, and the priest who wants a
wife and a rest from the bible, gets down and makes
his move; and that's OK and that's alright and life
looks brighter.
and the wheels of the trucks kick up dust and leave
their travelled, oily hopes behind, and maiden aunts
with pension plans, and questions about sex, and fruit
and empty wombs, busy along; and that's OK and that's
alright, and life looks brighter
and the swaying palms and decaying, delaying coconut
farms, with their chop, chop, chop and howdy-doody
charms, get under your skin; like olive oil and turtle soup,
and beaches with perky, querky, pleasant staff;
but their Ok; and mean no harm, and that's OK and alright
and life looks brighter
and an old man once said in the heat of a dense, humid,
lazy, fishing day; "don't give a damn, it's OK and it's alright,"...
and life looks brighter.
Peace and Being Equal
Hate either being late or having to wait;
Maybe would be best if we both negotiate;
Give me some of this in exchange for that
And then we all may avoid mortal combat.
Will not start calling you a such and such,
When you continually try to take too much,
And it would never be even a trifle fair,
For what I wanted you wouldn't dare to care.
So just where might the happy medium be
Forget about cruddy classification and society
Write one more book and poem with a sequel,
And personal preference is about being equal.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Poet
www.poetrysoup.com
www.story-telling-around-the-world.com
In Poems for Adults section.
You can take any part or parts of my poems
and combine them with any of yours that you
prefer and can endure or allow all of my poems
to remain rather obscure. The rest of you poets
can start writing more poems because my number
may be exceeding yours now. Also, another awesome
April is poetry month which I am sure you already
know. Right? Jim Horn
She stood motionless in ragged habiliments,
her raven filaments were cruddy and matted,
she was charismatic, but not alluring,
she was inconsiderable ,quite scanty,
her humble abode was to us, just a hovel,
then uninfluenced she started to sing,
sounds from that little girl were magical,
her voice sent unbelievable transmissions to my brain,
illusional visions that appeared in my head,
serenity, the pleasure, so overwhelming,
Images circulating through my spiritual structure,
sounds from that child was mind bending,
I was held motionless by her vocal illusion,
no one surely could turn what we were seeing,
Devastation into the most pleasurable place on earth,
This had to be magic, but undeniably the best magic..
11/16/2016.
Mince Meat Pie No Lie
Oh great! Found that some guy forgot to stipulate
How he knows people hate to wait or set a date
Important enough and already been accentuated
And, would you believe, destroyed, defecated and then defalcated.
Then you had arrived at the problem that could possibly be
While she really scarred the heck out of you as well as me
It happened to be Hillary wearing a wise old owl disguise
Found in boxes bond for Bombay much to my surprise.
She had a not only great idea but one which was ingenious
Like and old oscillating owl had a face being the meanest
And after be shown and while looking at it day by day
Someone started to toot and trump song saying stay away (Not no way Jose'.)
Next thing we found was owls only fly in a single formidable formation
Not knowing if it was done out of inspiration or desolate desperation
After having been found flying over Flint looking for water to be drinking
That is when this itty bitty troubled owl really started to thinking.
Water color seemed so cruddy and glass stood singular and all alone
On shelf while many makeshift people would moan and groan
Which is when Hillary had come up with another idea being so wild
What if we were to begin conducting an experiment of each child.
On their each table several glasses of water they would start to place
To see that when each one would drink who made strangest, oddest face
Then again oddly enough researchers data they did determine to decipher
Answers to questions and observations children had handed over to offer.
Now why would any maniac or moron ever try to seem and become so mean
Who had abused their own bodies and no longer were a health food fiend
Then with their own selves, education and experience became entranced
At abundance of cruddy urine color running down each poor baby's pants.
Franticly and finally many ill-advised answers they had come across
What was decided is that all of it and whole thing had created a lost cause
And after many words were thought of, brought together and they would mince
Those who have minds mixing with their water will meet with lower intelligence.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Like everything else of course there always has to be a catch
Prerequisite for reading this is imagination being able to stretch.
Maniac Who Loved Money
Trump was maniac who loved money;
Acting foolish thinking he was funny;
He went out and had affair on a dare;
All of his supporters are full of despair;
Died when water boarded by his honey.
(Or was it with honey.)
Cremated By Someone Related
Trump's dead body was sticky subject;
Had heard that someone it did select;
Turned out to be someone related
Who had his cruddy body cremated
Before every body it did infect.
Every body needs a body sometime.
Is that the song Dean Martin sang
With an Italian twang.
Jim Horn.
Half choked by a rising paroxysm of rage, then nisus,
The brittle and mirthless smile on his face were pathetic,
A nonaged;
Amputated and broken with a heart big but beats quiet,
Suddenly, he sighed deeply, from a kind of mental depletion.
His eyes were dilated with unfathomable sorrow, agony, pain and fears.
On his cheeks
Ran a flood of tears like the red sea.
His yelling and rumbles calls for freedom and a far-fetched peace of mind,
As his trembling heart fluttered with a vague terror.
Born and raised in a once happy home,
But the traitorous rebels seeking the droplet of their already sore souls,
Wouldn’t let them be.
His ribs were countered from afar,
Through the cruddy scatted T-shirt hung around his humiliated lanky frame.
When his hurrying thoughts and lips clamored for utterance,
It was an audible whisper.
He has forgotten the last time he ate a good food,
Maybe years ago.
Insurgency had dwarfed his ambitions in life,
A definition of a haunting and horrible sense of insecurity.
Daily, their stomachs fed on health and social peril,
Their nights were incensed to pass the drudgery of still time,
Death was a companion too close to loose,
They slept in the shadows of love,
And are awoken to ghost of damnation,
As their gloomy and hopeful souls sought reasoning from lips made silent.
In a moment, he was thirsty,
Buried in the dirty and putrid water of mixed cow dung,
There he drank,
Happily and without complaining,
With cows, the wretched mother feeds his other siblings,
Grass meal.
A bad situation the angels can even weep over,
In the Northern part of the Giant of Africa.
Thereafter, the poor widow walked up to me and asked,
“Why are we trying to live if we were just living to die?”
“Why are we hoping to receive when there are no relieve materials in sight?”
My thoughts collapsed into an ice, speechless,
That was when I noticed that in the Internally Displaced Persons Camp,
Life is totally a living hell.
Guess Who She Is?
Found her in some smooth flowing shower
Where each morning God gave her the power
To write awesome poems and oh so great
So in her shower she wanted to celebrate.
Soap was slowly getting into her eyes
It was then that she started to realize
All of her cruddy hair looked like crap
She forgot to put on crinkly shower cap.
Time as usual continually went by
Each shred of hair she started to dry
Right before she had heard nature calling
Poems from out of her hair started falling.
Try and guess who this poem was written for
Of course, the one who we do truly adore
Who in the shower with poems has sparred
Then on keyboard typed up while trying hard.
All of her poems popular they had become
And after them they named a chewing gum
Chewed hard and almost ruptured her spleen
Now the new gum is called beachy keen.
Or was that peachy? Do you remember Beechnut
Chewing Gum and Bazooka Bubble Gum?
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran
There once was a man named Buddy
Whose life was pretty darn cruddy
He thought he was an elf
Then found his new self
And then his past was no longer muddy
If shoelaces had faces they would get awful muddy,
a walk at the zoo and they’d turn kinda cruddy.
Shoelaces with faces would probly be sad
if they're walked on a lot they might even get mad!
Faces on shoelaces would see lots of stuff
like puddles and pavement and lots ‘a sock fluff.
If shoelaces had faces they might even talk,
they’d tell you “watch out!” each time you walk.
Shoelaces with faces would be hard to tie,
I’d try to make loops and poke someone’s eye.
If laces had faces they’d be hard to keep safe
I’d tuck ‘em in tight, my shoe's a warm place.
Shoelaces with faces would be hungry too,
but what in the world do you feed to your shoe?
Shoelaces with faces sound like tough work,
good thing God’s graces kept my shoelaces faceless!
Response To Question About Trump
Whole place up I sure hate to stink,
But about Trump what do you think?
Approach holistic;
We went ballistic;
So flush him down hole in kitchen sink.
Trump Said Great
Trump did try to make America great,
And he has come back again oh great;
When he did drop by,
We never knew why,
Remove from office would be so great.
Jim Horn
Explored and found Trump excoriable;
Supporters were distinctly deplorable;
After drawing cards,
We had low regards;
Always did end up being incorrigable.
Jim Horn
A Big Barrage
What they saw was a beligerent barrage,
Of pictures contained in a cruddy collage;
Some good or bad;
Others glad or sad,
And all the ugly ones did want to dodge.
Jim Horn
Annihiliated and Devistated
Not only had we been already annihiliated,
And by belligerence did become devistated;
Alternate fact,
Was a wise crack;
Men saying they have periods is prevaricated.
Jim Horn
Trump Again Wants To
Trump has wanted to make America great;
He returned and came back again oh great;
He started spewing;
Something brewing;
He burned his butt while sitting on a grate.
Jim Horn
Comparing Checking Account
Comparing checking account with the last,
All of the accumulated bills had surpassed;
Picked up my pin,
And broke again;
Huge debts deliberately ended up very vast.
Jim Horn
Wife Business At Christmas
Again has become another costly Christmas;
Will take care of some more woman business;
And me amazes,
So many places;
We went on cruise to Panama including Ismus.
Jim Horn