Best Gyro Poems
Psychotherapy, micro-bearably.
Pyro-merrily, gyro-herapy,
lots of chatter, bright new ways,
all pointing to one result.
If we are kind to each other,
if we follow our natural loving hearts,
none of these ways or theories
will be needed by anybody.
Be nice. Be kind. Be considerate.
Treat others the way you want to be treated.
Live as well as you can, by letting others live their way.
Psychotherapy, micro-bearably.
None of it needed if we follow the golden rule.
*This poem was written for Nikko's contest. The letters "H E A D S" weren't allowed. I won 1st place in the contest :)
Pimp, Cowboy, Gigolo willfully confirm Cook off
Vow to cook juicy concoction!
Pimp forgot cumin, Gigolo forgot flour, Cowboy forgot corn
Gigolo plotting to corruptly copy Cowboy concoction
Cowboy growling “You forging fool !!!”
Unruly Commotion!!!
Cowboy flipping Gigolo; Gigolo tromping cowboy, Pimp crying “knockout”!
Conflict fizzling…Cook Off Critic got nitpicky….Implying civility
Critic nibbling Gigolo gyro concoction…critic crying
Critic nibbling Cowboy wonton concoction…critic vomiting
Critic nibbling Pimp minty concoction…critic grinning
Pimp winking, flirting
Critic wiggling, winking, flirting
Critic confirm Pimp Cook off Victor!
Cowboy mournful
Pimp ogling!!! Glitz...Glory
Gigolo crying, “You floozy!”
Unruly Commotion!!!
Cop cuffing Gigolo to go to court
Tick tock…tick tock….Tick tock
Jury confirm Gigolo guilty!
Pimp, Cowboy, Critic go clubbing
I drink my root beer
with soggy fries
soiled buns
Hamburg runs
while watching the tube
in an unsightly nude
give me a Draft or an A&W glass
sitting in this position, it hurts my advancing Ass
AMERICAN IDOL:THE OLD FOSSIL REVUE
Plenty of Famous Farts dying to perform for you
Sir Mick and Madam Paul
they both did rocked in THE GREATEST SHOW OF THEM ALL
Madonna and Michael Jackson are Down
it is getting harder for their fannies to move around
Prince Geldof Boomtown Rat
surely realizing that his bulge is getting Fat
Sir Rocket and The Piano Man
were getting TOO FRIENDLY with a local Girl Scout fan
John Travolta the SWEATHOG guy
was making out his Will 'cause he knows he's going to die
One aero plane to his favorite charity
A gyro copter to the Dentist,who removed an unwanted cavity
The Old GREASE leather apparel
going to his TV buddy..The MASH's own B.J. Mike Farrell
Barry Williams,Knight, and Lookinland Too
trying on a fling with their Sitcom Sisters..YOU-KNOW-WHO
William Shatner on his couch
His enormous belly has only just begun to tire and slouch
Farrah and Lee Majors STUCK
trying(separately,of course) to get a Hard-On -UCK
Karl Malden..coming back from the Dead
To invite Zeter Jones than Michael Douglas Instead
The Streets of Sitcom Heaven, where youth is always On
Malden is serenading pretty Catherine with a Song
Now it's time to end this prose
I hope that you can touch both your toes
Don't watch the crap
exercise daily to avoid this trap
and YOU WILL BE A LIFE OVERACHIEVER,INDEED!!
I set the date
Hope I am not too late
To save some souls
From chilly fate
The year of our Lord
Dial one nine, one two
From my home-based lab
After locking in-situ
A gyro spins
A crackle, a flash
I land on the deck
With a terrible crash
Oh souls that surround me
Running here and around
Never notice my vehicle
Though designed to astound
The floor is now jaunty
My breath like fresh mist
The critical moment I fear
I have missed
Make fast to the lifeboats
Although they are few
I frantically seek out
The captain and crew
"You can double the numbers.."
I cry with a shout
It's too late for they're pushing
The final boat out
I reach for my notepad
Complete these last lines
'Crisp bright morning air
Yet the darkest of times'
A note to myself
Set my machine now to 'home'
So she whirrs and she crackles
Takes instructions, alone
My vain hope is she
Meets me in an earlier state
An inventor incumbent
To change the course of this fate
Now my destiny sealed
By dark ice of the sea
As resigned I join singing;
Nearer My God to Thee
Fast forward to now
Deep-sea divers explore
The old shipwreck is claimed
By the ocean once more
Yet a mystery beckons
Cameras peer through the grime
Uncatalogued cargo
Out of luck, out of time
in intriguing little crime scene
we have here eh Inspector Marsupial
a freeway overpass whore's
cardboard box and mattress
and a paperclip necklace
juxtaposed on a dissecting table
at some point a losing strategy
has to be examined
even if the last conclusion is
that we are here to be punished
for being here
Marsupial searched his pachinko readout
acting on the assumption
that in at least one setting
he could juggle us a grand total
even if the light was sub visible
which you don't see every day
bottom line you're here growing scared
blame enough to go around
manipulators of fear with a plan
wreckers of civilizations
is there anything in us that is inviolate
he was a master of pedestrian insights
with a repertoire of a priorI assumptions
packaged for the pop psych tabloids
his mouth flapping like a puppet on a string
the official Government spokesman
for the natural state of man
comrades these are troubled times
but not like before
during the really troubled times
so relax it’s an alchemist's contraption
made from bed springs and spooge
proletarian gyro-chemistry in action
every atom wanting to go its own way
cause beyond knowledge or even sense
the problem with categories is that
some blank out and obliterate the others
the banana daiquiri
had apparently reached his thalamus
clean your spoon son
that's government chow
and so began the long loud logomania
you have before you now
my rabbI assures me this is therapeutic
inductive in deductive out
forehead wrinkles along for the ride
knowing what is out of place
dawn and the bust of Aristotle
juxtaposed upon a toilet seat
shoot me I said juxtaposed again
it's not the circus of consensus it used to be
last I checked slapstick is still dead
I'm pretty sure everything
can be described by numbers
there are enough of them for the job
wheel chairs killed the fashion show
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
BEDROOM EYES
In the bedroom behind your eyes
Clothes are strewn about,
Open drawers display unwashed articles and misplaced matches,
Crumpled photos of discarded men
Lay scattered like fallen soldiers on love’s battlefield.
Is this my destiny?
The graveyard of forgotten lovers.
The room is dark and sultry,
I stumble around the mess to find you sitting,
On the unmade bed, in centerfold poses,
Inviting, seducing siren.
My mind gyro-spins, images of past suitors
Flash before me like neon exit signs
And I am left with tombstone reflections.
I turn to leave, afraid of the reasons
Unaware of the rhyme, still the door eludes me
And I hit the wall in the room behind your eyes.
Tender sliced beef sauteed lightly
Wrapped in Gyro Bread
Arugula bitter bite
Horseradish sauce covered
Sauteed onions dressed
Treat!
My inspiration:"Taste Of Summer" By Brian Strand
We two are designed to these ebbs and troughs,
Gyro dynamic tempos to clench the soul,
And gnawingly let go,
Let flow
Far far away into sunsets,
And let grow further away into context,
Vegetate a garden of Compiegne lustful deceit,
And profanely reap the dreams that seem too far to reach,
Expedite in space time continuums of monads and adversities,
Validate the limits of Heisenberg’s uncertainty,
Certainly only to find you with me,
In hypothetical pasts that existed in these realities,
In dreams and pageantry indeed and fallacy,
Magically i.e. quantum mechanically,
Up up and beyond the pragmatic obtuse notation,
Lets escape on a star by motions of Schrödinger equations,
To serotonin states of patience,
With excepted placement and by our astral tribes,
Who could pedagogically prove the metaphor of how two worlds collide,
Rotary rotary Concaved, convex photonic light distributer!
Does this automaton hold my heart within her future?
The fate absoluter the limited suitor,
I'd experience this attraction if I was robotic.
Cardio hydraulics id drowned for you in a heartbeat,
If you depart this 3-dimensional carcass and were not mine
Move slower than the speed of darkness and remain lost in the past a thousand times!
I'd substantiate the replicas of emotional bliss,
Though we know that Love isn’t real, I know that this is,
And if the dead souled quantized ruled from above,
I'd forever encode my hard drive with the algorithms of us.
SOP OF A SONGBIRD
At the labyrinth of life
Fear of its complex nature griped our heart
Like a stranger at a tripartite junction.
Worries came afterward , humping us high and dry with impossible mission
Life became humdrum in a fixed gyration
And like a gyro, our earth revolves
Sonorously , we are made to sing : the songs of the slaves
How can a fire burn without fuel and hands functions without bones
Then you can tell, how the life can function without divine faith
Now! Let the ear that hears hear
the songs of a humming birds
A song of hope , the tune of faith
The faith that fires fear
A true reflection of hope, treasures of our rich universe
And the saviour of mankind
From the chagrined and chary of life
Thair are two detectives , kershaw and grey ! Thay chase the badgize and
Make them pay ! Thay eat lots of fried chicken in bed ! The hot sauce & ketchup
Turns thair sheets red ! Avery grey looks half Japanese ! Edith kershaw duz not!
But thay are boeth very hot ! kershaw likes Pepsi . Grey loves her coke !
Grey is very serious ! Kershaw loves jokes ! Grey likes hot dogs !
Kershaw loves her gyro-subs! Grey likes miller beers ! Kershaw likes her buds!...
SOP OF A SONGBIRD
At the labyrinth of life
Fear of its complex nature griped our heart
Like a stranger at a tripartite junction.
Worries came afterward , humping us high and dry with impossible mission
Life became humdrum in a fixed gyration
And like a gyro, our earth revolves
Sonorously , we are made to sing : the songs of the slaves
How can a fire burn without fuel and hands functions without bones
Then you can tell, how the life can function without divine faith
Now! Let the ear that hears hear
the songs of a humming birds
A song of hope , the tune of faith
The faith that fires fear
A true reflection of hope, treasures of our rich universe
And the saviour of mankind
From the chagrined and chary of life
My eyes open to the feeling of the warm sunshine glow
The bed feels so good that getting up will be slow
Peering through my bedroom window and seeing there isn’t any snow
The news report was again a no show
I go into the shower, watching the drain take away the soapy water flow
Dry myself off with a rag towel combo
Get dressed and put on my hand made boots from the people of Navajo
I hop into my car, turn on the audio and begin to drive with gusto
To where, I don’t know
Zipping, passing a few vehicles in a row
Telling myself, hope none of my tires blow
I see up ahead a stop n go
Thinking of a hot cup of coffee or espresso
Definitely feeling hungry for a gyro
A pick up truck passes me by with loud music playing the classic Lionel Richie song, “Hello”
Triggering a memory from a long time ago
Snapping back into reality, looking at my rear view mirror, it is too late, I’ve passed it like a tornado
I quickly feel for my wallet, I forgot it! at home is my dough
Get back home soon without getting pulled over for no driver’s license to operate my pinto
Home is destination incognito
I Remembered Elvis
I was just----------thinking.
How many teen ager girls wanted Elvis?
How many hopes and dreams
were shattered then,
When
when he married the Pricilla.
I remembered Elvis?
Gyro on the stage.
Elvis the Pelvis they were calling him.
Most of us just tried to walk to hike to live.
Even then, even when ;
even I could knoe it then:
I was just-------thinking.
How many young women wanted Presley to begin.
DID ewe?Lambe~
To celebrate Cinco de Maio
She set her vibrator on "Gyro"
It started to hum
When in walked her mum
Et voilà! The State of Ohio!
The Reef Unseen
He was fifty-five divorced living in a cottage but how
is it possible to explain how he came to fall in love with a woman
15 years younger and lose his dignity.
I must take a break here try understanding the human heart
or the circumstances of the wished for the repellent he was
a ship that had lost its gyro-compass when navigating
the sea of deceit this foolish dance of the human borboleta
When he first kissed her, his whole being was absorbed by
her like falling into a cave of endless pleasures and his anchor
got lost in the outer seas
Then suddenly it was over like dream that ends at dawn, her
the door was locked there was someone else, rejected he pleaded,
had she relented it would never be the same the thread
of naiveties that bound him to her was broken
you can`t re-dream a dream.
So he took the dog with him and drove up north he had wanted
to see the autumn colours after week, they drove home
The dog loved the old routine when he had been depressed
The dog was sad, for him she was the morning mist that
Briefly, obscure the blue mountain range where the sun arises