Best Flaccid Poems
As I
Soak in hummingbird’s exhale
I feel tragic sonatas
Trying to chain
Trying to crucify
My sedentary grip on instability
I smell the repugnant commoner
Blasting scattered shots
Against yesterday’s decent
I became the handsome error again.
The godfather of uplifting idle minds
Sedated within the bosoms of complacency
Because, indirectly, I was the inebriated screw-up
Immunized with community pride
As 420’d lyricists
Puff corrugated burns
To keep their spine
Fused in relatable,
Flaccid significance
They dodge flagrant accountability
Like an intentional cripple
And I
Slow dance with agnostic prayer
There would be no commandments
To remind me
That I am still beautiful inside
Beautifully flawed.
Beautifully demonized.
Beautifully improper.
Ugly.
Yet, Gaia’s sun empowers this stanza
To breathe better breaths
To see what refuses to be seen
And no longer accept what cannot be changed
I carve milestones upon gravestones
In friends’ memoriam, nevermore
It felt peacefully redundant to be important,
Chiseling away the vowels of animosity
Attempts to hold my hands
Within this ambidextrous nightmare
Right hand, red
Left hand, chained
Courteous disdain
For developing minds,
Their figure of speech
Meant no blissful harm
With their 40 lashes
Conjured by judgmental testaments
Oh, how they preach for better tomorrows
While stirring yesterday’s pot
Becoming the “end” in “friend”...
©D.J.E.
Gold Fever
History will not record the bloated weight
Of this pious and bigoted race
Or count the fat and flaccid wealth
Of religions idolatry
Those pages have been scrubbed clean
By prosperous forgivingness
And the cruelty of established political dominion
Will not tally the bodies of the oppressed
To them, faith and belief are merely a weapon
A system of abusive control
And a means of power continuation
A dictatorial right to rule the population
History will not record the inheritance of opinion
But lay blind at the doors of massacre
The Aztec, The Aborigine, The North American Indian, The African *****,
Pray in silence to The Church
Centuries written in blood and torture
For a message of verbiage and usage
Extracted and leeched from the poor and uneducated
Created the western dream
The long night of the witch hunt is not over
The Inquisition has saved us
With fake blood and wooden crosses
This elite of moral perspective shall save us all
We have paid the price in conscience
Superiority managed by white skinned indifference
Holy mother church has welcomed all
All into its iron embrace of slack jawed wonder
And what more despicable rule can there be
Than to dictate ones own spiritual journey
Spouted by the rote of political expediency
And the promise of heaven
Ingrained now this so called Christian ethic
And so much of the truth left distorted
Forgotten now are the ancient mystical secrets
Which united mankind to understanding
Idol of gold and crucifixion
Of cathedral and stained glass objectification
Gilt and holy water of sumptuous ritual
Of silken pope and luxurious self righteous invention
An aberration of human faith and belief
An unrepentant destroyer of “ Loves ” dream
The curse of The Christ as you continue to translate
The Word
And where the paupers fist crunches the dirt
Where dried and parched lips pray for rain
Where the desperate cry for a reason echoes
Where blood flows in feted anger
Where children scream in fear
Where hunger and despair debase and demean
Where there is no light
And in the dark only pain
If you wish to care for the souls of mankind
Preacher
It is there with them
There
Is where you should be
Adrift in this vast,
empty sea. Silent,
save for the beckoning call
of distant gulls,
your only friend. And
the makeshift mast and sail is
uselessly flaccid.
And beneath,
concealed
by the dangling sway,
of muddy-
moss-green ribbons of waving kelp,
is the dark murk
of unknown depths.
Then the wind
panics,
arousing your sail and
it swells into life
and draws you towards home.
Shadow Play
While Freud sits at the mind end of the couch phallus in hand
shapes others’ dreams in unspoken imposition ‘must-abation’
analyses abuses his daughter in metaphorical incest projects
his own aggressive sexual drives and neurotic megalomania
Jung after killing the father figure sits with and under shadows
gathers the zenith of clouds rays collects collective conscience
unconsciousness retrieves ancient symbols propagates mythical
archetypes to archetypical conclusions reflects tainted sunshine
He forges gently I surmise poles and vaults of contradictions
opposites polar juxtapositions seemingly un-mutual mysteries
and ponders light and darkness tearing torn apart thus healing
in the complementing contrast of void change completeness
Where Freud posits polymorph perversity bit by sexual bitter
sweet bit in a bid for so called science of mind over matter Jung
morphs perpetual change crafted and cast through a different
lens admits to poetic licence narration oral traditions and growth
******** in mind not of the ***** castrated in fear not envious of
phallic dominance over clitoral defence wombs groomed entombed
by guilt transgression sexual submission shallow **** oral penile
ossification of flaccid resurrection Jung begs and offers to differ
In complex incomplete never-ending search a path from change to
change and beyond dialectical synthesis played enacted in parallel
processes and progressive psychological drama of a different kind
he much kinder more reflective less regressive and adventurous
Lets shadows erect and paint play dance reflect and move on
16th August
John Wulf, with his funny Limerick antics telling funny hilarious stories,
“viagraology
There once was a medical study
of things flapping flaccid like putty
those men given placebo
couldn’t enter gazebo
it drove the poor fellas plumb nutty
Copyright © 2015John Wulf”
but also has his very soft spot for all of us
Then there is my very favorite lady, Jan Allison, with all her humorous poems,
ANOTHER VIAGRA POEM HAS JUST POPPED UP - INSPIRED BY EVE ROPER AND JACK ELLISON
It hung so limply like Niagara
Doc told him to take some Viagra
Just one little blue pill
Gave his wife such a thrill
It sticks up so high it could stab ya
Copyright © 2015JAN ALLISON 18th July 2015
but lover her with all our hearts she is the sweeties of them all
Jack Ellison, teasing back and forth with his witty poems,
so who’s the greatest of them all,
OD'd On Viagra
Hickory, Dickory, Dock
Overdosed on Viagra, whatta shock
My wee fellow looked up
Said, “You ain't no pup!”
I cried, “This guy don't go by no clock”
Copyright © Jack Ellison 2015
But a jolly soul because his Santa Jack this year.
Then there’s our Mystic Rose that joins the group with her sense of humor;
A Little Viagra Goes A Long Way
Incline thy ear o-friend of mine
Me poor husband got it bad
He got a dicky that won't pine
Tis sad Tis sad Tis really sad
I heard yours takes Viagra pills
Malone's will not erect nor stay
and yesterday he got the shills
Just letting dicky out to play!
Would you be so kind to send
The medicine that made him sleep
I'll give my hon a pop to rend
His dicky joy, so he can weep
Few tears of joy alongside mine
Oh how my smile would shine
He got a dicky that won't pine
And that's a real bad sign...
Copyright ©Mystic Rose 7/19/2015
so much fun we have here on Poetry Soup
11/13/2015
Poetry Contest : Who Are those funny Poets
Sponsored by: Judy Konos
Mindfull of a parallel sequence
we seem to function light between
thought and hurt hoping for
easy advancement up the channel steps--
pecarious invoking with someone who
knows--- and not knows inescapable from
ourselves compliant (fraud) if need not be.
Backwash of hidden intermittent terrors preclude
external sensitivities---like my aching back
heat waves of generalized dizziness and
gender--izing. The sweet bird of youth
never suffers a jet lag stupor as we enjoy
and (softly) murmur the last rungs in a
flaccid present tense loss of self faculty.
But the nevertheless picture of realitivity
lends a jargon journal future sometimes
nameless but (at least) omnidirectional
happenstance.
Susie's pet name was Wanda-zilla
and hailed from jungles near Manila.
Her poetry was swill
so to pay all her bills
she did strip shows for native gorillas.
She went to merry old U.K.
To make more money stripping all day.
When folks voted for Brexit
they meant Susie must exit
to get rid of the smell right away.
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Susie looked like an ugly gorilla
A cousin of that monster Godzilla
With flaccid pink lips
And wobbly fat hips
She appeared on the video ‘Thriller’
The director who chose her that day
Said Don’t put on your make up today” …
With no mask on your face
You won’t look out of place
And your dance moves will blow folks away”
Susie then thought she’d found the answer
She’d work as a naked pole dancer
But not one man would pay
They said please go away …
Put your clothes back on you fat chancer!
BY JAN ALLISON
Wanda-zilla is a great name for ugly, Susie
Always batting her eyes like a low-life floozy
Painted lips on a gorilla
Looking like Phyllis Diller
As a pole dancer she must've been a doozy
BY LIN LANE
Godzilla saw her and stole her away
I think he wanted to toy with her play
but she put up a fight
all through the night
and insisted that she had to stay
BY MYSTIC ROSE
She seductively ate a banana with zeal
But that day it just got too real
In her ugly mouth
It all went south
Her and a banana without appeal!
BY ROGERPAT ADAMS
An old Ethiopian veteran of the love wars
once told a newlywed Kenyan kid:
If you want the infant marriage to survive,
make it to the golden years Mt. Kilimanjaro side
You gotta keep the giraffe standing up,
when the ecstasy mountain air gets thin at night
When you’re starting the climb,
don’t early reach
for the apex of a lovemaking climax
You gotta stay rock hard,
climbing the pleasure wall for the long haul —
Or don’t even shorty night come at all
Keep the flagpole reared tall;
because the minute your
testosterone stone levels fall,
you might as well go geld yourself
Premature burial ...
put the family jewels in a coffin box
Don’t bother to take off your pants,
might as well keep on your socks
Prepare to have plenty eunuch days
of abstinent nights
Too many failed erections
gonna get you shovels loads
of opposite sex dissatisfaction
Expect a bedroom eviction notice,
telling you to
get your droopy drawers packing
Frequent impotent performances,
gonna get her eyebrow curtains raised
So many flaccid phallic early encore excuses made
gonna get you tossed out of the bed,
and kicked downstairs onto the couch
Premature ejection is coming,
your woman’s been too long frustrated ...
doubts gon start creeping in:
Where you been,
who you seeing ...
Why you keep coming home
with your love sacs empty?
Those suspicions gon start stiffening:
She’s gonna wanna know
whose arms been keeping your bottom mind bent
You’re gonna wanna know
where in the world did your lost manhood get sent
If you don’t wanna lose access
to her intimate-starved heart,
you better start trying harder on keeping it hard
Learn to get a second wind of stamina,
too much soft effort gon get your love privilege barred
Premature pleasure aborted love
will have your armadillo snout soul dragging
Premature love not long enough
will have your elephant nose spirit sagging
Don’t depend on bottled passion,
pharmaceutical extended sex
Too many early evening elongated failures
gonna get you a premature ex
Is this a dream?
Am I sane?
Is this true?
I thought I lost you
The night my eyes were glasses full of water
Tears falling done a cliff into my mouth tasting like saltwater
So, tell me
Is this a dream?
Am I sane?
Is this true?
I thought I lost you
That pain was too real
You walked away like nothing happened
I tried to get over that atrocious reality
And walk on the shore of love and hate, like these feelings weren't developed
Is this a dream?
Am I sane?
Is this true?
I thought I lost you(X2)
Fantasies are for younger humans
Not a singer with no fans
Your image makes it so certain
Still, flaccid feelings make it uncertain
Is this a dream?
Am I sane?
Is this true?
I thought I lost you
We come full circle like a sun
Peeling workers back, sucking the core
Raw, emptying it of sweat and everything
Leaving flaccid evening
To be pounded by the relentless sea.
My life began here
One room and mother going and coming
Between despair and praise
Because she never hoped for anything
A soul that is satisfied has no hope
Except where the mound is raised
The great flag of dirt and final pride
And who we sleep beside
The sobering ultimatum that is not choice
The calculation that sums mortality.
We do not last as long the sun
Whose cruelty is equal to its kindness,
But one day it too shall have a great fever,
Swell, and explode.
Yup, just like this. This is how dad told us about the wonders of life. No eye contact at all.
One day my father told his four sons to climb into the car,
He wouldn’t tell us where we were going just that it wasn’t far.
I sat in the front next to dad the other three sat in back,
Boys it’s time we had a talk about a subject that you lack.
I want to talk to the four of you about something that’s called sex,
Collectively we held our breath because of the horror that came next.
I am sure that you have started to notice there’s a difference in girls,
Their bodies are soft, curvy and round and their hair looks good in curls.
I promised that I had taken some notice, there was no need for him to fear,
Because I was now sixteen years old and had been dating for over a year.
Then this talk is for the benefit of the younger ones in the back,
Be helpful and sit quietly and don’t give me anymore of your flack.
This trip in the car with him was the longest that could ever be,
Then he asked, “Can you define ridged for your brothers and me?”
The only thing that I could imagine worse than his talk selection,
Was when he extended his left arm in order to demonstrate an ********.
It hung flaccid out the window but slowly it started to rise,
Until it pointed straight to the left, a stiff arm, hard on prize.
Out the window the visual aid of my dad’s left arm *****,
Made the guy behind us think that we were turning at each corner.
As we returned to home dad said that mom had found some books,
They had information with helpful pictures and we should take a look.
From this whole experience there was something for me to learn,
Sometimes I’ll turn to my wife at night and signal for a turn.
Abraham Lincoln, the president,
Awe-inspiring American gent.
Lead the American Civil war
Abolishing slavery no more.
Abraham Lincoln, the president,
Scraggly and tall, cheeks each flaccid dent.
Laughing, jokes were told of people’s flaws.
Jokester, mocked how ugly he was.
Abraham Lincoln, the president
Shared his humorous stories frequent.
History's great leaders, once long ago;
Helped shape the America we know.
12/29/2020
Lincoln was 6’ 4” tall
The ghostly grippe on Zorro's goolies,
as the ghostly footsteps fall,
some old bugger called d'hoolie,
jerked his chain and was not enthralled,
gelded by the facination,
would he get her would he fall,
rising, falling, flaccid, hesitation,
Zorro needs some other's balls....
Don
Old age has changed the nature of my chores
replacing doorstops – holding open doors
or when the joy of shopping slowly flags
I stand with other men – just holding bags
We dine – I weigh the cost of cold French fries
and order well done burgers – children’s size
for something’s gone awry within the loop
that schedules when and where I’ll have to poop.
It seems I live a life somehow gone placid
along with once taut muscles now gone flaccid
Yet still I fight the battle – break the rules
for still I feed myself – tie my own shoes.
So if you’re young and strutting through your prime
please, take a hint and cherish all such time
while your on the quest for more and more
take heed for age has a trap door.
John G. Lawless
©10/15/2019
Presence of fused endurance.
Fueled by your strength.
The break of sweat brought on by diverse motion.
Course of steady breathe.
Elevated throbbing muscles ignite.
Flaccid no more.
Stress free tranquil mind.
Gratification sets on this well deserved athlete.
As to wait for dawn to wake me another day.