Best Foursquare Poems
Oh noble cone, knight fluorescent.
Rooted, proud and irridescent
Soldier, friend, stalwart defender,
Stood firm betwixt chaos and fender.
Your pedestal, foursquare foundation. Beacon bold stood at your station.
The wizard's hat sent to protect. Calm, aloof and circumspect.
A cone, a clone, in columns prudent. The holy grail of drunken student.
So we salute you pointy friend, our angel to the journey's end.
Magnificent, little band of brothers. No thought for self, only others.
So much more than shimmering plastic, you are the one true light fantastic.
"I'VE NEVER MET THE TOOTH FAIRY"
it was the city of La Puente and I was in kindergarten.
I was nothing significant.
I was just another kid fighting in the sand box.
while the kids played foursquare, swung on the swings or rode the silver tricycles with the red handle grips, I kept to myself.
then one day a little girl showed up out of nowhere.
her name was Denise.
she talked with her tongue resting between her lips, her eyes were pinched and when she smiled, her cheek bones shined.
she wore her hair in pigtails.
she always had pigtails.
on another day, I saw her standing by the classroom door.
she had a skirt on, striped socks, her pigtails and that squishy face.
I walked over to her and asked why she wasn't playing with the rest of the class.
she said it was too hot.
it was then she pulled out a blow pop.
she smiled while looking at me and said, "I like cherry."
when I asked why, she said because it made her lips red.
she said it was her lipstick.
I stood there thinking about what my mother said:
"Candy will rot your teeth."
she asked me to be her boyfriend that day and I said yes.
I look to the sky today and think of all the candy I've avoided.
I look to the sky today and think of all the whores I've been with and all the **** they create.
I look to the sky today and wish my mother would've said:
"Women will rot your life."
a few cavities wouldn't be so bad.
By: Chicano Eddie
2-17-2017
I was a freshman at wellington and wise
when a sure footed poet pulled out her knife
my head was split open and locks spread foursquare
my flesh cut to servings and tongue sliced de jour
the high poetess then clawed out my heart
before she devoured me bite after bite
the freshman departed, the poet refrained
with a big wet smile from verse to verse
they would dice many a chive
by management me from da dive
apartments in hatfield in close proximity
to the bloody sorry fate
oof a von nee gutt
thar slaughter house five.
mine eyes saw gore
and remained fixated
orbital fixture
of poor creatures in a daze
sans reaction averting gaze
away from disgusting entrails
visible picture amidst the maze
of chutes and ladders
stepping on select
foursquare did raise
or lower (similar to an elevator)
but movable blocks
also went cross ways
oh, anyway, this reply
written by me - scott math u
passable poet tree - at most true
this email far ye to rue
these twisted sister strands
of pearl jammed zz topped
chromosomal strands being did hew
who only to five feet and ten inches grew
crafts, finesses,
indulges love of language
to prose from fingers flew
and writes poems
cawing all r e'en juiced
one angry emu
leaving her/his presents
custom made doo doo
per comprising a motley crue
of a family - pearl jammed color ague.
please rsvp asap via text
to me scott matthews my chosen ac/dc label
i.e. pleasure like rubbing against sable
create r hard woo n intimate scorpion fable
unless ja noah under me ma jib rush
like inxs o ruck kiss in tower o babe bull
by texting if willing, ready, eager and able
froom - - scotts matthew
who lives way off the mainline -
juiced about a few dirty dozen dancing deeds
done dirt cheap miles west of philadelphia,
and some ten miles east of king o prussia
pennsylvania who imagines your sultry skin
silkily soft as a lynx, pussy cat
rubbing against ma leg under da table.
Sent from my iPhone 456789
what if I
didn’t matter-
would you
think about me
not here-
or if I
didn’t exist-
ever never,
would you
shed a tear
what if I were
a mess-
would you
comb my hair
or if we
were in love-
would you
whisper in
my ear
what if I
were hurt-
would you
say a prayer
or if I didn’t
come home-
would that
give you
a scare
what if I
were injured
would you
be in despair,
or if I
got you upset-
would that make
you swear
what if I
were tired-
would you give
me a chair
or if I were
on the
other side-
would you give
me a stare
what if
I were homeless-
would you
give me some
socks to wear
or if I already
had one-
could I
make a pair
what if I
had no money-
would you help
pay my fare
what if I
were hungry-
would you share,
or if I wanted
a steak-
would you
make it rare
what if I ate
too much-
would you give
me a glare
or if I
were round-
could you
make me square
what if I
had a flat-
would you
have a spare
or if
I got lost-
would you
send up
a flare
what if I
fainted-
would you
give me
some air
or if I
were Abe Lincoln-
would I
use foursquare
what if I
were a baby-
would I want my
teddy bear
or if I cheated-
in a game
would you
say I’m unfair
what if I
danced-
would you
call me
Fred Astaire,
or if I
were a fruit-
could I be
a pair,
what if I
hit the lotto-
would that make
me a millionaire
maybe so
or even
a billionaire
what if
that happened-
would I
be debonair
or if I had
a deck of cards-
could I play solitaire
what if I
were santa-
could I have
a rein deer
or downhill skier-
would I take
that dare
what if I
were just me-
would you
even care.
Jumble Sales
Arts littered to granite threshold,
Hungred fellow with trapezium limbs,
Foursquare abstractive cupboard head,
In a thought out state of presence,
Designer fingers crawling over pots and bowls
Of serpents swallowing man head first, into sack
stomachs,
Static snails speeding on a space of time,
And like promiscuous Picasso stroking the buttocks
Of Madame Desiree,
Bending to rinse her negligee
On the bank of Elysees.
Archie Bunker at the Pearly Gates
By Elton Camp
Archie almost died at the loading dock
The experience, to him, quite a shock
“If the crate hadn’t missed, I’d be dead”
The scary thought ran through his head
That night he had a most troubling dream
Because completely real to him it did seem
When fluffy white clouds and angels he spied,
Archie then suddenly realized that he had died
“I am sure it will be as I’ve always been told
With the streets all paved with the finest gold.
A place where I can lie about on a cloud all day
And I’ll have a golden harp I can learn to play.”
“I just can’t wait to get my pair of feathery wings.
I’ve always thought I’d like to have them things.
And a glowing halo circling up above my head.
Maybe it ain’t gonna be so bad, this being dead.”
He spotted a neon sign that had the following to say:
“To the pearly gates, please proceed along this way.”
As he trod the narrow path, he glimpsed far over there
A lofty, shining palace--it was a city built foursquare
Archie found the pearly gates and he began to knock
What happened next gave him a most horrible shock
St. Peter had a beak-like nose and quite swarthy skin
Peter look at him with a grin. “Hello Archie, come in.”
“For me to be around a guy like youse won’t do.
People will think that youse might be a Hebrew.”
Peter told Archie what was historically true:
Each of the earliest Christians had been a Jew.
“And if youse has got any coloreds inside there,
Then whether I come in, I sure as hell don’t care.
If that’s the kind of place heaven’s gonna be,
Then it ain’t no place for a white guy like me.”
Archie then woke up with a piercing scream
“Oh, Edith, I just had the most terrible dream.
I went way up to heaven, but far as I could tell,
I would really just as soon have to live in hell.”
(Note: This is a parody for the sake of humor
and does not represent my theological views.)
Rhythm of the Sand Pine
Lazily waving in the brisk morning air;
Tranquility of a sylvan setting so strikingly rare.
Flailing her arms like the great timberland bear;
This venerable statesman which none can compare.
A mighty conifer standing in the woodland foursquare,
As mysterious and perplexing as the elusive sea hare.
Ancestral descendants of ancient forebears,
Standing at arms, trespassers beware.
May 20, 2016
She thought I loved her for the texture of her hair
Yes, but I also loved her for her flair
We thought that our love will always float in the air
We were sure, and for this we stood foursquare
She thought I loved her for the cocoa brown color of her skin
I could care less because that’s not the reason for our love’s tailspin
Our souls were joined at some point in passion like a Siamese twin
Long before our popular love turned into a devotion that had-been
Perhaps we expected our actions to always be so circumspect
Love is conditional, relationships need an emotional architect
So, she thought I loved her for the velvet cavity betwixt her thighs
I don’t apologize, she is a powerful woman, or else please advise
She thought I am a man-shaped drug the detox to which is painful
Till I remembered that many of her devotional phrases were so guileful
Saying that she has been in a hole for so long that it started feeling like home
Saying that she has been watering a dead flower and every flaw was a syndrome
Saying that she has justified to many scars by loving a person who’s holding a knife
Saying that she would rather be in a relationship that is full of love and life
Saying that she has her boundaries pushed, her thing inside has been awakened
You might wonder whether her hitting-the-freeway had already been preordained
From the oceans of love, our feelings have been invited ashore
The absences of which each of us can barely account for
Perhaps we expected ourselves to be as perfect
Little did we know that in this prison of letdown we’re a convict
But should every slip-up we confect be checked?
Every box of that which doesn’t connect us be ticked?
We dwell with the denizens of the deep - our ship’s wrecked
We both know that we don’t need a restraining order
To come to the grips of it that it is over
Lips that taste the tears, they say are the best for kissing
I pray that you save the kissing for your engagement ring
So, then I can be happy that I dried my tears to see the stars
When the sun was gone and that only memories will remain ours
Cold air whistles acquainting
me with Arctic Blast, when
roundly forcing acquiescing
into half foursquare corner, activating
most recent spate of
ideal linkedin warm weather
ah...,my favorite sweet
spot for read ding
partially secluded from
gossip mongers addicting
fellow nosy residents,
who rarely brave elements
of style lush nature addressing
natural environment, sans leaving
comfort of their hermetically
sealed apartment adhering
to zero risk exposure
even during pitch
perfect weather adjusting
cessation to renouncing
"cabin fever" administering
most potent panacea
for heavenly solar fling
nay, most every tenant
here at Highland Manor
prefers vicariously admiring
terrestrial flora and
fauna, even when nature
bursts forth with adoring
"The Rite of Spring" adorning
the snapchat buzz zee
flight of the Bumble Bee
the still frozen, yet slowly aerating
rib rock solid state terra
firmae slowly alleviating
thick slabs of iced over terrain
indiscriminately allocating
patch of landscape
legion limitless almsgiving
then as instagram dusk
preempts afternoon alternating
cathartic, fantastic,
and iambic anesthetizing
magic, opportunistic, and therapeutic
reverie blitzed, viz banshee screaming
mother nature's wound
dead spirit expressing
agony dost vent wrath
heartfelt lament vacillates, manifests,
and explodes analogous
qua red bull who readily
didst get smitten angling
to expunge anguishing
cumulative racking torment
hell bent on annihilating
primate responsible species
akin to a silent spring announcing
slow but inexorable annulling
guardian (nee abuser) role usurped
by *****sapiens,
who need answer
for relentlessly antagonizing
writhing, lowing, and bristling
Planet Earth!
New Jerusalem
Coming down from our Great God.
Cubed city foursquare!
The Path To Least Resistance -
By: Sue S. Side
Amp pull ease just sparked insight,
I suddenly became aware,
(actually self actualization
came ohm to roost - dare
ring with mighty stir since this
Earthling orbited thru the atmosphere
back in time many a passing,
quickening, and rip snorting year),
how my current psychological,
neurological, and emotional despair,
sans crafted - plane vanilla
existential plight grounded, nixed,
and shorted former spunky,
quirky, and goofy boyish air
snuffed out, hopscotched
(along buttery, bow jangly rocky
unlevel road i.e. skeletal derriere)
extinguished courtesy nihilistic fanfare
with counterproductive antiwelfare
of self, when just a tendershoot, nothing
boot bag of unlovely bones when bare
grim reaper das scythe
did to hunker down
specifically anorexia attired
with trademark black hoodie wear
firmly entrenched, would
not budge, clear
out, nor disappear
matter of fact arrogant behavior
cannibalistic ornery rode
roughshod, and cavalier
dauntless demeanor debonaire
leaving body electric
in utmost disrepair,
lo parents trumpeted
state of emergency
and sought out consigliere
one Doctor Ted Goldberg care
fully applied his deft, heft,
whence nervosa finally left
after quite long stretch of time
not without a fight,
and permanently sear
my esprit de corp
undermining foursquare - buzzfeeding
every epidermal micro hectare
pot tent lee loosed pendulum
within pit of mine being, a nightmare
minimally livingsocial, linkedin
to tomb ma birth family prepare
ring to die just on verge of puberty
analogous to bot sized
wrecking ball lob
bing within me tummy scare
ring the Bejesus
from those who begat me
nonetheless felt immense care
and concern helpless, and lacked app
nowadays accessible within sphere,
viz zitting world wide web,
now holed up in mancave sitting here
reflecting how I sabotaged
vitality, virility and vim stunting
maturation across vast swath of yesteryear!
This Dissembling Man...
Trod thru three
score orbitz with air
tight (hermetically sealed)
lid on his emotions bare
reft of evincing
concern and/or care
ring forever guarded against
incursions upon fragile as chinaware
psyche foregoing giving
healthy breathing room
never to dare
risk challenging discomfort zones
skirting, hemming, and hawing
deliberately averting, shying,
sidestepping away against
welcoming awkward adolescent
romantic experience, thus
never playfully trying to ensnare
and/or allowing, enabling,
and providing gamesome
opportunities providing willingness
tubby triangulated ascending
ark hay yick teenagehood,
when deux dozen, foursquare,
nor eighteen candlebox birthdays,
nonetheless hungrily glare
ring with salivating
envy peers that hare
tuff hoar did gather
their rose buds...despite,
or perhaps because raging
testosterone overtook coy
demure lassie tude surrendering,
whence young womanly
primal urges let machismo insnare
whereat discovering prickly
"beau" vine love on par
with being a millionaire
despite tiffs that,
tested one's mettle quickly
learning the vital lesson
to turn/beat cutting
edge sword into plowshare
setting the figurative stage,
when feathering one's
nest to prepare
for legal covenant,
(a death do me part
binding resolution) endeavoring
to sustain a lifelong
commitment however difficult and rare.
High on a bluff, overlooking the city,
Watching night lights come on- it looks so pretty.
Lights in offices as folks finish their work day;
House lights turned on by people home to stay.
A big bank of lights for the school football game.
Neon lights flash out and establishment's name.
See the street lights which are burning so bright,
That they make folks feel secure while walking at night.
Traffic lights , too, going from red to green;
All types, styles, and sizes that can easily be seen.
Don't forget the headlights of thousands of cars.
From this vantage point, they are a myriad of stars.
In a city this large, many people live there;
But I know of a larger one that is built foursquare.
I'm bound for that city, of which I've been told,
The Gates are of pearl; the streets of pure gold.
Though my eyes have never seen it before,
There I will abide- my home for evermore'
In that city, there will be One Light'
'Twill always be day; we'll be done with night.
The walls are fifteen hundred miles long on every side,
And the City will be equally as high.
My Brother's there now, preparing my place.
Soon- oh very soon- I'll behold his dear face'
I can wonder those streets but Ill never be lost;
My reservation was purchased at Calvary's Cross.
Yes, that's where I'm going once this life is through.
My question to you is "Will I see you there too?"
You can reserve a spot now- no need to wait,
Even tomorrow may prove to be too late.
Arthur Ball(H.S.L.P.)
October 30, 2005
Squarely conscientious, I unwittingly
sanction selfhood acutely triangulate
courtesy webbed geometry jeopardize,
galvanize pluck nudging contrived arc,
virtually courting temptation aware,
sans impetuousness compromises an
anonymous commingling, nonetheless
electronic fraternization enthralls mine
plucky chutzpah possibility intrigues
yours truly sporting impish grinning
smile across world wide web unsure
quasi cryptic communication decrypted
maybe imperfectly interpreting message
this enamored disembodied spirit doth
chance circling foursquare kibitizing
downplaying grand illusion spontaneity
gist ripples thru this human entity while
comfortably cushioned buffered against
disappointment accepting outcome - par
for the course amidst cyber spatial gulf
nothing ventured brings disappointment
more often than not, this solitary fellow,
a beetle browed fool on the hill smarting
over...he ne'er gathered rosebuds fruitless
ruing foregone opportunities, hence tho'
cocooned against adverse outcome revel
at fleeting giddiness affixing envisioned
smile upon unknown reader, or perchance
another veritable stranger, cuz amiability
need not be sole providence aimed at one
select web surfer, but extended warm free
greeting permissible allow one imperfect
troubadour to sprinkle pleasantries to any
person, whose scrolling intersects with my
genuine not "FAKE" aery mission to offer
abiding friendship e'en if limited to realm
of harmonized synthesized online reality.