Best Doke Poems
If you don’t wanna flunk public school,
you gotta know the unwritten rules
And rule one: listen to your parents
Get your sleepy head out of bed
and go to school
They will supply you with the necessary tools
Obeying your parents is the last rule as well
Heed this rule and you won't fail
Rule two is similar to the first: listen to your teachers
Let it sink into your empty head
what they’re trying to teach you
And do your homework before you go to bed
The third rule is tricky,
it trips a lot of school kids up
So don’t you fall for the okey-doke
Don’t listen to everything your friends say,
if you do, oh boy are you gonna pay
Either after school detention
or home stay-in-the-house suspension
Yeah, and those same friends will be laughing at you
One more rule,
one more thing you should know
Keep your eyes in the books,
and not on the opposite sex
You got plenty of time in your life after graduation for that
Well, that about sums it ... what, hey ... why are you late?
Tardy again,
caught skipping school
Kid, you’re gonna flunk out for sure,
because you ain’t gonna know the rules,
or follow them even if you do
I imagine little house on the prairie
(bordering Lake Woebegone),
a place to hang cloak
most bucolic, edenic, idyllic...
apropos place for this poetic cowpoke,
who at present day trumpets
himself as token panhandler
of Perkiomen Valley, a
genteel, gentile, and gentle
Semite with friendly okie doke
demeanor easily mistaken
for dishabille and disheveled drunk,
nonetheless harmlessness, I evoke
espied by any man, woman and child
in these parts predominantly
non kosher festive folk,
(especially at Old Pool Farm
August 16, 17, 18 2019)
quick witted with zealous
wordplay, quips and/or
oy gavalt hexameter innocent joke
adroit, capable, das strict
test electrifyingly
faux gerrymandered,
incredible ventriloquist
nsync with karaoke
reaching within my
rabbinical bag of tricks
succeeding with flying colors
par excellent masterstroke
or sometimes more'n one ministroke
never abracadabra prestidigitation
to insult nor poke
fun at anybody but yours truly,
though even lampooning
self could provoke
unwittingly etiquette revoke
king welcome as town
pauper, inscrutable hobo
(phobic) figure, beggar
pummeled By George with
thoroughly good soak
king courtesy rotten tomatoes
if gibes overly saucy
subsequently shuffling off into sunset
emulating Charlie Chaplin
encountering wealthy patron
as blessed thunderstroke
before getting struck by lightning!
so rear up like a young mountain goat,
head butt the horror okey doke,
rip the skull from offa him,
body slam him with a grin,
johnson says its orright,
its deathless time tonight...:(
re:
"The Reaper"
Anthony Nutter
Don
THERE WAS A TIME WHEN I BELIEVED IN YOU THE DREAMS YOU HAD AND THE AMBITION YOU HAD SHOWN TO ME.
NOW ALL I SEE IS SOMETHING THAT IS UNREAL SOMETHING THAT IS TRIFILING.
ONLY TIME WHEN YOU WANT TO COME AROUND IS WHEN YOU WANT SOMETHING.
NOT TO SEE HOW I AM DOING OR HOW I AM HOLDING UP NOT EVEN A CONVERSATION IS IN YOUR BOOK.
ALL YOU EVER WANT TO DO IS USE ME AND TREAT ME LIKE A TOY PLAY WITH ME WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE IT AND THROW ME AWAY WHEN YOU ARE DONE.
I AM NOT YOUR TOY NOR AM I YOUR FIDDLE KEEP ON WALKING BECAUSE EVERYTHING THAT YOU ARE TELLING ME IS GARBAGE.
YOU KEEP TRYING TO WHEEL ME IN ALL OVER AGAIN WITH THE SAME OLD SAME OLD WELL IT IS NOT GOING TO WORK THIS TIME.
I DON'T NEED YOU IN MY LIFE I CAN MAKE IT WITHOUT YOU HOW COULD I BE SUCH A FOOL FALLING FOR THE SAME OKEY-DOKE!
IN YOUR EYES I WAS NOTHING BUT A JOKE.
SO I AM TELLING YOU THAT THE FEELING THAT I HAD FOR YOU ARE DISSOLVED NO MORE IT IS GONE.
I FOUND SOMEONE SPECIAL THAT GIVES ME THE LOVE THAT I DESERVE.
I KEPT TRYING TO BE WITH YOU BUT YOU KEPT ON PUSHING ME AWAY SO NOW I AM PUSHED AWAY INTO SOMEONE'S ARMS NOW YOU WANT ME BACK.
WELL IT IS TOO LATE FOR THAT NOW YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE GO TELL THAT HOGWASH TO SOME OTHER FOOL.
BECAUSE I AM NOT BUYING IT!
You can acknowledge the emptiness at the core of your being
or go crazy when the world goes crazy.
The numbers of us overwhelm,
an impending tsunami,
my hopeful eulogy about our responsibilities to each other,
2 jobs 2 hobbies,
the biomass in the crosswalks,
fears that rend and own us,
the Muslim-Judeo-Christian condition.
Your soul is immortal,
it exists outside of politics and poker. Just kidding.
Forgotten, forgiven and foregone.
A man’s ego needs no encouragement.
“I’m gonna be huge when I’m dead,” John said
last time we spoke.
Life is fine!
tough
the reward for our colossal imperfections
a back and forth game
the rivers and selfies of an empire
daily low intensity warfare
Good
a gift
not a curse
new, so let go
a veil, thin if one doesn’t believe in mystery
like all things that are forever changing but always remain the same
thriving after five nights of steady rain
enjoying the passage of time
or will be good
but a dream
okey doke, short, a lazy-eyed tiger
One man, one vote
Listen to the double zero
poll echo
One man, one vote
is power transition farcical
A national joke
One man, one vote
is very unpopular electoral
Lever pull okey-doke
One man, one vote
was a woman suffrage hoax
A muzzle masterstroke
One man, one vote
Con-stitutional pipe smokers
took a fake vapor toke
One man, one vote of very lil’ jolt
Alternate current voices
got a direct party line swing nope
One man, one vote
Poll echo tally count double zero
Sum abacus croak
One man, one vote
Majority honk indignation
got a carny clown soak
One man, one vote
Popular gripe concession
twas a ballot tear choke
One man, one vote
be a lost bleat, pearly poll wee echo
Uno shuffle double zero
One man, one cell vote
sorely received the Bilk-o freedom cry
A Trump card eye poke
One man, one vote ~ Democracy false hope
Mandela truth was a pauper lie
Just like that rich Joker bloke crying broke
Court hiss sea hove The Irish Times,
this hum mere ruck can bloke
kin esse spy climb mitt till impact
desiccation ravaging with choke
hold thee aim rilled isle,
which haint ok key doke
cuz won hoot rook froom sun
whelps like heretic burned at stoke!
- - - - - - - - - -
More to the point (meaning jaw
ken minus **** faux
hackney poetic strung bow
Willy Wonka barely understandable
twanged and twinged) accent
hen reed how, accomplishment
in garnering alarming
news-worthy ailment
while this Unit Aryan ensconced
within beef hoar tee four comfortably
numb burred battlement,
here at Highland Manor,
I pay (if totally tubularly pennies rolled)
approximately equaling bedazzlement
17,500 viz copper cent,
per month gratuity clement,
sans Grosse and Quade
associates co-management
offered rental assistance congruent
(predicated on social security disability)
to occupy one bedroom
apartment kept air
conditioned 60°Fahrenheit
perfect for concupiscent
activity, albeit unfortunately marriage
shot thru with celibacy
suppressed sexless existence
more difficult to control
than catching a tiger by the tail,
hence this damned delinquent dependent
Dickensian dada cooly cruising thru
cyberspace espying embodiment,
how measurable heating up
Gaia, i.e. Mother Earth (she) evinces
no illusory figment, and just by a fluke,
the spontaneous Google search,
keyed revealed tumy mine eyes,
wretched webpage showed
stark rising temperature gradient
Dublin, Ireland experiencing
worst drought since
records began 168 years ago
where Irish Water (utility)
warned Dublin would run out of water
in 70 days, a “worst-case scenario”
necessitating hyper-efficient
protocols immediately inherent.
Burning embers,
From fire to smoke.
Flames give to ash,
Leftovers now broke.
Sweetness to saline,
Inhaling to choke.
As chaos laughs loudly,
A solitary joke.
When all is taken, from
A once mighty oak.
Can residue deliver,
Any strength to yoke.
Though nature seems tested,
As if we provoke.
While tragedy remains,
Among wealth and poor folk.
The cycle continues,
As many have spoke.
With no worry ahead,
And nothing to revoke.
Thee nonpareil Amelie Beth Harris-McGeehan
blessed honest to dog goodness her person doth bring
never could her brother wish upon NON GMO
(archaeopteryx, buffalo, chicken...) wing,
and genuine prayer anybody more a maze zing.
Many countless years before
our dear mother passed away four
plus eleven earth orbitz ago,
she voluntarily repeated more
times than I can remember "your
older sister possesses altruistic qualities."
The above words enclosed by this bloke
with double quotation marks, okey-doke
not necessarily the way mama spoke,
but yours truly took poetic liberty
without any intention generating impulse to choke
the harmless, nameless, and stateless writer
and literally went bonkers
while going for Baroque
for recognized virtue that recently woke.
Kinship towards angelic, fantastic, pacific anchor
understandable why her spouse did hanker
during their courtship to pledge his troth
to maneuver metaphorical
hook, line, and sinker as though steadying a tanker.
Innocence and naïveté suffused little boy
occupying body of aging long haired
pencil necked geek without gainful employ
and (and as a shy person without benefit
of powdered milk biscuits)
generally trended solitary
verses masing with hoi polloi,
nevertheless ofttimes relentlessly teased
bully me, I loathed treatment on par
with worthlessness linkedin with discarded toy,
thus gratitude prevails toward eldest sibling
(no matter just thirteen plus months older)
pseudo motherhood she did deploy
to ward off aggressive monsters.
I reckon eyes appreciation
matured into present thankful attitude,
now with mooch time to ponder and brood
how earlier in my life behavior childish and crude
methought meself as hotshot dude,
yet these days, I couch sincerity writing
one or another poetic endeavor
knitting words analogous to composing an etude
contemplative, intuitive, and ruminative mental food
for thought hoop ping to convey
honest to goodness gratitude
communicating reasonable rhyming message
(if yee be downcast dearly beloved sister)
delivering uplifting, kickstarting exalting mood.
its no joke
don't be a doke
we need a home
wher can be a
lone
and much more
youu see in the boxes
need
LOCK KEY AND
DOOR
now am frim
and i'am stren
at that time
iwas out my mine
had no hope
fill with that doke
thats a fact
there was a
MONKEY ON MY BACK
or funny
or you my bunny
or you a doke
that just moke
can you
TELL A JOKE
they love the ropes
jump like a doke
they love the swing
its there thing
love park to play
some do it everyday
to them its happy fame
KIDS AND
FUN GAMES
lifes no joke
don't ueses doke
do whats right
you or bright
so have a insight
get
HIGH ON LIFE
you call it weaked
its a seeded
that grow
you smoke
well you know
its no joke
STOP ITS
DOKE