Best Full Of Hot Air Poems
Mary Skit was full of hot air
She was a balloon to be fair
She ate turnip
Checked her burn up
And swooshed to the sky body bare
Full of hot air
Cool to the touch
Want to jump up and scream
Why don't you use silence as the golden rule
and sit down
Want to go left
But rights the only right away
Want to paint the town in grey
Who needs colour anyway
You find yourself higher than a kite
But than again as lower than a slug
Broken brain
Fix with glue
Filling your pockets with change
Just to find out that everything stayed the same
Red with anger
Green with envy
Let the darkness foreshadow your thinking
Lights to bright
No ideas
To racing thoughts
Walk up right
Run away
Who needs circles when you can have squares
Seniors and babies are the same
except for age, wear diapers, eat soft foods and have no teeth
Miss Miya
Like
had no breakfast today
but somehow i'll make it
in the usual way
when it comes to hunger
i can take it
at work everything is wonderful
everything is fine
the weather is cool
and bright is the sun shine
no worries what ever
my face has a smile
driving along my mind
drifts for a while
and then it hits me
like a thunderbolt
lighting on the inside
from somewhere in my stomach
straight to my backside
you know that feeling
you know what it is
stomach churning
bubbling bad
something is yearning
and needs to go fast
before i know it
i'm full of hot air
i want to let it go
but i do not dare
look for the box
they call johnny on the spot
but when i get there
the door was locked
standing out side and holding it tight
no matter what their doing
i'm gonna lose this fight
and then it happens
what nature fought to get through
now tell me honestly
has this ever happened to you
Now the razamataz is over
Looks like Trump is next in line.
If he does what he is proclaiming
Everything will be just fine
If like his name*
He is full of hot air like a deflating balloon
Then “God Bless America” comes to mind
Not just America we’re sure to find.
Must give the man a chance
He is a millionaire by right
Must have had some brain to acquire this
Just that cell doesn’t glow so bright
Please Mister President stop putting your foot in it
Think before opening wide
I will raise my glass to you Donald Trump
At the end of office, you can then say
“I Tried”
Penned 9 November 201
*To trump is to break wind
When I awoke, I took a breath
And then another.
I couldn’t help myself;
I think I’m addicted.
I think I’m addicted,
To air.
Just yesterday I took 22,500 breaths.
I didn’t waste any though;
I took them one at a time.
But it wasn’t always like this,
I think the habit started when I was very young.
Back then, we liked to hold our breath a lot,
Sometimes to get what we wanted;
Sometimes for the fun of it.
And when we ran around playing tag,
We had to catch our breath, a lot.
I think our breath liked to wait
Until we were done playing, before coming back.
But our problem got worse when our parents yelled,
“Go outside and get some fresh air!”
So we went out, and like the punks we were,
We went around the backside of the barn,
Which, I admit, had some really 'fresh' air.
Back there, we inhaled the stuff.
Yes, I said it. We inhaled.
We inhaled as much air as we could get.
Then we’d go inside, feeling good and all,
And as soon as we said something,
They’d yell at us again,
“You’re so full of hot air!”
Well I didn’t think that was true,
But then I realized,
When you’re addicted to air,
It turns hot. Real Hot.
When I was in high school
The addiction got worse.
It got so bad, that the kids called us
Air heads.
It was true. We got high on the stuff
Day and night.
I’m not proud of my addiction,
But I’m still alive to talk about it.
I tried joining AA;
You know, Air Anonymous,
But was kicked out
When they caught me and a friend
Outside snorting the stuff.
I tried to tell them that we both
Had a bad cold,
But it didn’t matter.
Anyways, today I’m going to try
To turn over a new leaf.
I’m not promising any miracles,
But I’m going to breath deep,
Hold it for a couple seconds,
And then exhale.
Who knows, I may be able to cut
This habit down to 18,500 breaths a day
In no time.
In any law school, it is the first lesson taught
And not one of us should ever forget
A man with his hands tied, can still kick you on the chin
The bigger they are, the harder they fall cannot be forgot
Sometimes a long shot is the best bet
A sure thing is not always a sure win
The down and out with a prayer, is a super human
Don't judge a book by it's cover, it needs to be read
The rich will live high, in tough times will not survive
A wounded animal is no match for any man
Before you sleep, make sure you know your bed
That is if you want to stay alive
A barking dog is loud, the under dog has a fatal bite
When the weak get strong, the strong get weak
Blow hards are always full of hot air
And not left standing at the end of a honest fight
A body with no soul, has no mercy to seek
Much less any kind of prayer
Beaten, nailed to a cross, then rose from the dead
So that one day he will save us all
Wears the crown of crowns on his head
He can cure all of Satan's conspiracies
If you don't listen, you will take the fall
Never under estimate your adversaries
Up, up and away
In ballon full of hot air
Hanging from a hair
Up, up and away
No steering and no braking
Bravery faking
Up, up and away
Under ballon swinging high
Storm clouds coming nigh
Up, up and away
Fearsome lightning bolts flash by
Need help from on High
Up, up and away
Trying to hold breakfast in
Swaying in the wind
Up, up and away
Small box dangling in the wind
Need a Dramamine
Up, up and away
Pale and shaking in wet boots
Where’s a parachute
Up, up and away
First time is one time enough
This is scary stuff
Up, up and away
On the ground will always stay
Until dying day
Up, up and away
Forget it, here I will stay
You get underway
Up, up and away
No thanks, rather get my kicks
On Route Sixty-Six
Up, up and away they said,
as they sailed over the blue and the red,
hugging each other and holding on tight,
the Donald and Hillary on election night,
For my sore eyes got my binoculars out,
I followed their moves in the sky, no doubt,
both of them full of hot air in the balloon,
living it up before it ended too soon,
And then there was a paradigm shift in the wind,
the hot air balloon started to descend,
the frenemy's in the basket a case,
they both realized they were done in the race,
Driving up to meet the both of them,
they both exclaimed it had been a lot of fun,
but while on the wild ride they did a flip flop,
Hillary now Republican, Donald now Democrat,
With most of the votes counted and tallied up,
Hillary and the Donald watched the electoral map,
like a horse race derby for a long while neck to neck,
neither one of them seemed to do a double check,
Because they both knew when all was said and done,
like two actors in a play the election outcome,
The Donald already smiling and striking a pose,
like in a horse derby race beating Hillary by a nose.
11-8-16
A black cloud bleating
Over a trembling tree top
Calls swallows to play.
2
Wet thunder drums light
On the sizzled skin of air
My lungs beat like wings
3
This is September
Neptune's children play with glee
On earth's anxiety
4
Africa's revenge
Is full of hot air driving
The sea to black rage
5
The winds come dancing
The funeral song of trees
Silenced in the clouds
6
The storm turns its eye
Into the sun's white vortex
And shed some black tears
7
A lone swallow flies
Skipping spindles of loud rain
Etched upon my eyes.
PLASTIC BAG: THE SAGA CONTINUES
Yes, they laughed at him, full of hot air, but he died trying.
It’s easy to forget that - it seems -
Plastic bags too have ambitions, careers, dreams.
He was ready and waiting for a slight opening . . . anything.
Saw Dick Whittington with his bag full of potential;
Inspired by Mary Poppins’ magic bag so special ;
Noted the bank paper-money in reinforced bags commercial;
Those doctors’ bags for the sick – so beneficial.
Door ajar one day, wind of change lifted his spirit -
He took his chance: he challenged the system :
Could be more than a plastic wrapper menacing the ecosystem.
Chance favors the prepared: his ambition was transparent.
The others were cautious, rappers singing of life in the crapper.
His life was limited to apple-wrap : made him sick
Listening to other wrappers’ mundane earth-bound music -
Most despondent of all is an apple-wrapper rapper.
On his death-bed he did not regret his attempt:
Ok - it ended in a downdraft and muddle,
Sinking in the dog crap puddle;
But I’d do it again he cried, if someone should tempt.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
NOTE
This is the second in a series of supermarket-plastic-bag-wrapper poems
dedicated to a particular apple-wrapper which escaped in the high winds
of St. Petersburg, Russia. The first in the series was ILLUSIONS OF GRANDEUR.
I'd rather be a hillbillie
than a bybillie or blowbillie
to try to be all three, you see
would drive me to insanity.
Hillbillies are fun and fancy free
can run as far as you can see
may be poor, ain’t got no teeth
but that don’t bother’m in the least!
Bybillies are skittishy and shy
seldom stay, always say "goodbye"
they never joke, don't even try
just mumble, complain, whine and cry.
Blowbillies are too puffed up
have big mouths, can’t keep them shut
boast and brag, often disrupt
full of hot air, they up look quite stuffed!
I’d rather be a hillbillie
than a bybillie or blowbillie
and climb the hills and know the land
and laugh and hunt “to beat the band”.
Hillbillies love to dance and sing
know how to play the fiddle and swing
and love to roam the fields in spring
I'd rather be a hillbillie more than anything!
l
I am a celebration for the glad
I am a release for the sad
I brighten your every day
Yet made to want to float away
I am a delicate bouquet
A gift when no words are to say
I am in parade and holiday march
I am your graduation arch
I am delicate and precise
I am the thought of something nice
I am scary when you poke my skin
I am funny if you breathe me in
Full of hot air, hope and helium
I can’t float if you don’t leave me some
And all I really, really want to do
Is float aimless into big sky blue
Slowly drifting out of view
Waving in the wind goodbye to you
Feb 6, 2023
Balloons Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
7/26/17
Going to the top of the stairs
And it's not going to stop there
Don't be full of hot air
Or you will not have a prayer
Occasionally thunderstruck
Going in and out the cut
Staying up
Instead of stuck
From dawn to dusk
Ongoing for such and such
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Staying grounded
Time to reach the peak of another mountain
Where the view has always astounded
Skies that are clear or clouded
Areas that are empty or overcrowded
Nearby and far away from any water fountain
Blood turned it into a red glove
A whole step above
More hate and less love
Won't bend or budge
Unwilling to end the grudge
Some just can't put it to rest, until they've won
Trapped in my mind, taking refuge from scurge who annoy me.
Mouths move, words understood but sentences simply defeat me.
Over my head like live ammunition a garbled blurb shoots out a round.
The talk I hear must be important from the nods and expressions I see.
I try to engage, say something clever but I'm out of my depth in this room.
All eyes on me, "be confident man" my inner self tells my good self.
So I speak of the graphs and figures projected but have no idea what they mean.
A silence then follows, then a few nods, nobody in this room has a clue.
It's full of hot air, boardroom bravado and who can talk the most gibberish.
With poker faces and arrogance aplenty my time in that room makes me sick.
The nausea continues week after week, next time I'm chairing the Board!
PLASTIC BAG MEETS TERMINATOR
I give the illusion of strength and security
But I’m only plastic-moulded and mostly empty of all thought,
Full of hot air and entirely transparent:
And I’m afraid that I can’t act,
Said the bag to Arnie
Or said Arnie to the bag.