Best Friggin Poems
The first date's the hardest. I never know what it is I should do.
I take you to dinner. You don't eat, you just play with your food,
and then it suddenly hits me.
This has already happened
and I can't believe
that it's happening again,
but I've already met you
and I don't mean to upset you,
but you're like my last girlfriend
and the girlfriend I had before her.
We go back to my apartment where I proceed to go south on you.
You tell me you're bored cause I can't find that damn guy in the canoe,
and then it suddenly hits me.
This has already happened
and I can't believe
that it's happening again,
but I've already met you
and I don't mean to upset you,
but you're like my last girlfriend
and the girlfriend I had before her.
You say I'm the one, the one you cand spend the rest of your life.
"When will we marry?" you ask, "When will you make me your wife?"
and then it suddenly hits me.
This has already happened
and I can't believe
that it's happening again,
but I've already met you
and I don't mean to upset you,
but you're like my last girlfriend
and the girlfriend I had before her,
and the girlfriend I had before her,
and the girlfriend I had before her.
Inspired by:
Well, some friggin song I recently heard but can't get outta my head.
To the tune of.. “These are a Few of my Favorite Things“.
Bass boomers spreading their mis’ry in traffic
Craving attention and driving me spastic,
Not caring an oodle for anyone else,
This **** will drive one to poor mental health!
Cops who ignore them and keep right on driving,
Passing we drivers who are suff’ring and sighing,
Speeding, ignoring all laws of the road ,
Why do they think they’re exempt from the code?!
That lady texting who’s climbing your bumper,
Foll’wing for miles, you’d sure like to dump her,
Getting so peeved I just ran a red light!…
But she’s hanging in there with all of her might!
Here comes a pick up and he’s really flying,
can’t push me over but he’s really trying,
sans blinkers he cut me in one single swoop,
You scraped my bumper you dang nincompoop!
Sweating and trying, for my place I’m vying,
Choking on gas fumes, ‘n some kid is crying
That lady just stopped for a friggin green light,
I screeched on my brakes and near died of fright!
That bass nut’s still booming, my blood pressure’s zooming,
That green light stopper’s picked this time for grooming
That texter’s horn behind me is starting to blow,
The light turned red and she thinks I should go!
These are a few of my least favorite things,
That I could avoid if I only had wings…
I commute 3 hours a day and this is just
a sample. : )
,
This year my wife bought us personalised gifts
In order to heal little family rifts
Her sister was flattered and gave her a hug
When she found her face on a bone china mug
Her Dad kissed her cheek, wrapped his arm round her waist
In thanks for the monogrammed cigarette case
Tempers, once frayed, we’re now far less fiery
When her brother opened his new photo diary
And now everybody was getting on fine
And so it was time that I opened mine
Mine was quite large and so peace was assured
’til I found my face on a friggin dartboard
"My fiance is obviously cheating on me.
He's giving some witch's poetry a read.
He always leaves her more comments than he does with me.
Why did I ever get engaged to a poet overseas?"
"I didn't place high in your contest. What is wrong with you!?"
"You submitted the wrong form. It was Rhyme not Haiku."
"I was left a nasty comment by some skanky poet whore.
Now a group of poets and I are going to start a comment war."
Drama! Drama! Drama!
Here @ Poetry Soup.
So much friggin Drama
I can't stay in the loop.
This one's mad at that one and that one's mad at you.
There's so much friggin drama here @ Poetry Soup.
times ‘r changin’ rearrangin’
everything here to mars
stars, bars ‘n cars rollin’
trains, planes ‘n internet games
farmin ‘n cyber space
races ‘n places r
leaving no traces of who or
what we might have
once been before
more open doors 2
technology never dreamed of
a mere few
minutes ago but what do u know
the way the wind blows here
we go again, new friends talking on
star trek recorders like kirk n mr spock n
the real mccoy used 2
pretend on tv when today
its apples n ipads not all bad instead of
tinker toys 4 girls n boys n
hi-teck etch a sketch’n cowboys n njins
n gps bcuz we’re lozin our sense
of spelin n direction with all this
friggin new txtng forgettin how
2 read a map and find our ways
back home from rite around
the corner cuz i’m afraid our civilization
may be improvin n sum ways but
degradin n others n 1 more thing
witches more or less personal 2 i guess
2 every1 but god whoze
disappearin at a rapid rate
which may be a big miss take bcuz
if we remove him from the equation
we may be losin’ our collective soul n
it won’t take longer than a lickity split
to say adios a-
merika that’s it
Wur in RE an the nuns are gien
oot sweeties, fur getting the kweschins right.
Three oota three, then she’s askin mae who Jesus’ mither is.
‘Ah doan’t know sista,’ ah tell hur.
She isnae happy an tells mae tae hink aboot it. So ah dae
an ah wurk oot Jesus wis god. It wis a trick kweschin,
‘he didnae hiv ah mither.’ Ma
sweet stoats aff the side ae ma heid.
She’s spittin in ma coupon fur a name, an
diggin hur digits in ma neck.
‘Ah doan’t know who Jesus’ friggin mither wis!’
Miraculously ah float tae the front ae the cless. Ma haun’s oot,
bit ah doan’t hink shill hit mae wae that big stick. Thwack!
Ah look doon it the bloody gash through ma puddlin
eyes, ‘yoo’ve broke ma haun’ ah croak,
then turn roon an boak.
I love a bacon sandwich
and I'm partial to a sausage or two
I can't think of anything nicer
Than a dumpling with beef stew .
Then I pulled a vegetarian
A real tree hugging babe
She tried to tell me eating meat
Would put me in my grave .
Urgh , What is that you're eating
You're a murderer she cried .
No its not a human ,Just a rabbit
I replied .
How did that rabbit die
Now she was really in a mood
It died of friggin starvation
because she ate all its food.
Royalty
Presidency
Emperor
King
Prince
Princess
And duke
All these man-made titles
Make me want to puke
It’s such a load of crap
Pining for these freaks
This pedestal treatment
Friggin reeks
Oh you’re so much better than me
I’m so blind with admiration
That I can’t see
That you’re just like me
You live
You feel
You do as I do
But you act as though you’re the elite few
I can only see it for what it is
Just a load of crap you spew
All I can say of this lunacy
Is excuse my truancy
Eric (and sometimes not)
--------xxxxooxxxxx--------
smashing! there she goes swaying her strut in red stilettos
with a lady gaga ’do, vamp gear and rockin’ diva blues…
"hottie P.D." that’s what she’s called.. ready to prance at
her latest night call, another gig for chilling a dish
at the flaming la vida loca bar: strictly for exclusive members
only, she ain’t on the list… hmmm,
sly fox down to two altoids and twenty bucks in her leased
armani tote. you guessed it right! she bats her long lashes
at the bomber’s gate; swooshes past the queue
using victoria’s secret model’s gait… what a RAAWWR!
surveying the lair, the sly destroyer skips no beat---
there’s her catch, a dumb-- looking frog, a sort of
prince dude. time for the bait, ready to down tons of martini,
tequila, whatever she won’t regret... ooh my, the vixen
slants a tyra pose caressing her mane smoothie smooth.
dumb frog approaches his " prey"--- that’s what’s lurking
on dude’s snail brain…” foxy lady, you beat the tar out of me!”.
PD coos,“ big boy, you better show me punk cuz i settle
for nothin’ less than a big score.”
flashing his platinum card on the deck, sly fox rattles off drinks
on top of the heap. whoa, a little bit of sweet talking and fast touching,
sly destroyer goes for the kill..“ an uptown throb you are,
smokin’ hon-- you care to bring your babe home in your
limo ,bimbo?” and frog croaks, “ wait babe, will bring it on!”
with another long wink, her last crime…hahaha, from PD’s
devilish voodoo blink, all she needed was a fancy hitch big time home.
sly destroyer whams it again! but wait.. frog is gone for friggin
30 minutes… turns out, the platinum card expired and stolen. drat!…
who’s the sly destroyer.. and who’s the flaky loser?
( just for fun!)
--------xxxxxxxxxxxx--------
--- CONTEST: P.D.'s " Inner Animal "
Whenever in the company of his trusted friends
St. Paul Lafargue had always said:
"I sure hope I never get a sainthood someday
- That would be supremely lame for an atheist
In any day and age."
The man was modestly honest - If not honestly modest
So I did everything I possibly could
To make sure we would celebrate his feast day,
Every-single-friggin-day!
I ran all the way straight to Vatican City,
Where I skinned all which remains
Of my horrendously disfigured knees
After tripping over my own two feet and half a sheet of LSD
- That's when I said: "Serves me right for not taking it easy."
"Jesus I'm witty!" I was nervously thinking,
as I picked broken grass
and bubble gum
Out from under
My gaping wounds - "My God,
I don't have any time for this modern-day humdrum!"
I defiantly said as I proceeded ahead
Demonstrating little more concern
For my previously acquired gangrene
Than I did for my recently sustained ruptured spleen...
...So to make a long-story painlessly short
And to keep all threats of (comedic) violence
Condensed to a marginal fault,
All that I really had to say was this:
"So; How about it? What do ya say?"
- After smashing up the whole place
With a couple of my favorite teamsters
- And that was just about that!
Paul Lafargue had been canonized
All for a philosophical laugh!
- I must've cracked every single situational gag
His Holiness had been expecting to be pulled
Straight outta my brimstone hat!
I guess it's true what I hear everybody say:
The Pope is behaving far too liberal these days.
So the next time the stupid boss comically asks:
"Why is you writin'?! - Why ain't 'cha workin'?!"
Tell them as many times over as it may take
Until it fully absorbs into their tyrannical brain:
"I refuse to work when I don't really wanna;
It comes on like a hunger, sometime, after lunchtime."
I'm a shopping cart,
a free form squeaker of the
truth.
I'm a black top parking lot
on the surface of a dream.
I'm a thin veneer cross the
chest of drawers that hides
your dirty magazines.
I'm the crust on summer's dusk.
The ring around the collar grit.
The decay of cowboy comics;
A 10 cent glider's path.
The harbinger of new math.
A washing machine's tumble.
The gray skies ominous rumble.
A bad haircut on spring break.
The Vietnam war,
the Superbowl,
The lounge singer in the
businessman's maw.
I'm stupid,
a friggin mess,
farting and tap dancing the
Gettysburg address.
Ol' yoda you looking like a wrinkly toad.
Watch it Obi-wan im not that friggin old.
Why have you called me here in this transmission.
Train luke to a jedi is my one condition.
I'll do it yoda ill show him the force.
In the Force train him well and with a lightsaber of course.
Form:
OKAY? WHAT FIEND STOLE THY BODY ELECTRIC!?
thine distorted reflection rippled
within rain maker's pool upon a midnight clear
full moonlight flooded shallow abyss,
cleaved fractal structures of silence
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand
whipped out from whereabouts unknown
wove enchanting spell atop me shades
at more'n fifty gray hair
to fore, awakened from drunken stupor,
whence sober self
saw repulsive trouper fluid dynamic image jeer
at pot bellied, dead panned,
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent, mutilated spindled
various aspects of myself a paired
which, aghast at such creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged, limned paragon did wear
a grotesque from heart of darkness – maybe Zaire
or Zulu-land, this soaked silhouette half bare
from the waist to head showed unmanly
sagging overly engorged breasts
plus right and left elephant sized ear
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME,
yet upon performing self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued,
cuz thy once bronzed handsome physique
grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made for television series created,
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night,
thy aged dusk fraught hominid jerked,
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared
to accept, roistering, rollicking,
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able,
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness,
gruesome homeliness, instance
Page Number Two:
when no objection would arise
to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly,
gummy self activated door
leading to a privet hedge row trimmed
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin,
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth with **** face on that card!
She loves me she loves me not...
Just my luck that when juiced a lad
din grammar school, aye own every
rhyme and reason tubby mad
every friggin time boyhood fingers
plucked petals off flowered daisy...
just as well, a relief and more than glad
tomb hiss out on doing the wild thang
and be'n totally tube yule lore lee baad
yea, how boring squirreled away
voraciously reading 'bout some cad
oh my dog...I too could write story
"FAKE" steamy extramarital liaison add
chocolate flavored Glynnis (Msgeegee),
whereby celibate chap goes stir crazy - egad
yours truly drives back to her pad
within sketchy part of West Philadelphia
starring as chief protagonist
none other then... yupper this dad
until caught with pants down (figuratively)
thine missus both angry at me and sad
I immediately unapologetic longed to gad
about even jetting setting off to Vlad
divest stock to escape wrath cull bile
daily spewed phlegm at me - wad
off by bajillion miles wife got poor aim
cruel colorful epithets coarse expletives had
filled beyond capacity to resist or tolerate
hence, yours truly sought to skad
had dude dull married life awkward fit
analogous, incongruous, perilous
why dead men don't wear plaid
they make no bones about
nor act self flesh deathly quiet
oblivious toward latest fad
mouldering into dust
whereby gravesites sprout weeds
mother nature's couture clad
eroded tombstone disintegrating
vanishing without trace
unremembered story...
unlike Odyssey and Illiad.
It's been a long year since you've been gone
It's been a long year,
And I'm still here upon my own
The puzzled emotions, life has shown
Fragmented pieces, myself, and alone
Maybe I was just too crazy
Maybe I was all too friggin weak
Maybe I was blinded, by you and me
Because I could never, set you free
As of now, I can finally see
It was never us, or, even me
You wanted a soldier, and I couldn't see
But now, as for the year, I let you be,
Now, I've set you free
So you can fly
Fly on your own
It's time, I've left you alone
Its time I've let you go
So Just,
go...
And hurt me no more
It's one year today, as you know
One year, so long ago
It's been a long year of pain
And all inside, it still remains
I've tried so many times here on my own
I've reached out, as for your thoughts, to atone
But my words left in silence and left alone
In The past memory
In all, that was of me
As in my isolation, it has grown
No reciprocity, nothing was shown
As for The ending, it's always been known
So just...
Go...