Best Heep Poems
Poetry is a Risky Business
The Recipe for Poetry
Open stereo
Turn volume medium high
Poor 3 shots of whiskey
Add 2 bottles of wine
Open 1 bag of chips
Add one box of Oreos
Listen to Alice Cooper
Then Abba
Then Dance of the knights
Then listen to all 3 at the same time
Stick pins into the doll of your ex
For added drama add some ketchup
Open up 2 brands of cheese
Because that shows some class that you have 2 types on hand
Do this
Before opening second bottle of wine
This way you’re not an alcoholic
Turn on some Paul McCartney and Uriah Heep
During moments the stereo is on high volume
Sing along
Down to the skivvies it is, if you have a hockey stick
A little air guitar for some added inspiration
Cut up some Edgar Allen Poe poems
To put between the Oreos and cheese
Eat till the feeling of darkness overcomes you
Let your thoughts simmer 5 hours
Voila done
When you wake up
You should have 1 or 2 poems facing you
AC/DC, the rockers from down under
Boston, with Tom Scholz on guitar, sweet thunder
Creedence Clearwater, singing Proud Mary
Deep Purple, from the 70's, rocking and hairy
Eagles, easy listening, bum hugging music
Foreigner, with their Englishman Mick
Gun, from Glasgow, Taking on the World
Heart, from Seattle, just have to be heard
Inxs, singing their Afterglow
Journey, from Frisco, under the Bay Bridge flow
Kiss, in make up, after these Crazy Crazy Nights
Loverboy, from Canada, in concert excite
Marillion, prog rockers singing the lovely Kayleigh
Nazareth, from Scotland, singing Please Don't Judas Me
OMD, with their song Enola Gay
Pink Floyd, just let Emily Play
Queen, without Freddie, but their show went on
Rush, from Toronto, three playing amazing songs
Styx, with Tommy Shaw, their blond blue eyed boy
Thin Lizzy, from Dublin, playing Inverness were a joy
Uriah Heep, named after a character by Dickens
Van Halen, with Eddie, and his guitar rockin lickin
Wishbone Ash, a favourite band of mine
XTC, singing Senses Working Overtime
Yes, with album covers, by Roger Dean
ZZ Tops, singing Legs, those legs need to be seen
Slaves to media hype
Feeding your numb minds
With news tripe
Celebrity Correspondence
Filled glossy pretence
Lost all feeling of common sense
In there defence, they are paid
To believe in their own self importance
Documenting lives of no consequence
Details scrutinized, laying in wait
With prying eyes, having to go out in disguise
When actually this brings more attention
Did I forget to mention? That was their intention!
Staples and tucks, staple to the diet
Eating thin air, to keep them quiet
Ten pounds gained would cause a riot
Paid to kiss and tell, myths to dispel
And expose the jezebel, cut her to size
Sent to the press gutter hell
Snapped in precarious places
With powder nose faces
Or solicited embraces
Lawyers with sharks fin
Ready to lure in
Unsuspectin’
Paid lucrative deals
Ensuring nobody squeals
Eating into royalties
Big bucks and bigger fees
This addiction, this disease
Once tasted, hard to leave
Brainwashed to believe
This is the only way
Yes, it’s naïve
But when you’re stuck in L.A. L.A. Land
With the good, ugly and the tanned
And your face is your brand
What else are you going to do?
You’re sold out and see through
Left exposed, battered, black and blue
Become reclusive behind 12 foot walls
You don’t go out and nobody calls
Washed up, wasted, worthless
No one left to impress
In your final distress
You consume pills
For imagined ills
Locked up in Hollywood hills
Drugs to wake, drugs to sleep
One to many and in to deep
Found by a maid in a heep
But at least A listers attended
And your send off was splendid
And they cried, even if they pretended
No, not like you intended
But you’re a star in the street
Forever remembered in concrete…
Agnes:
Oh, what a smile Uriah Heep!
It makes me feel so vile and cheap
You’re planning Papa’s soon demise
An evil light shines in your eyes
You smile a sheepish little grin
Usurping is your grievous sin
My father is under your spell
But I know you are straight from hell
I shan’t marry you, no not I
If you must know the reason why
Your fiendish smile I can’t abide
It makes me want to run and hide
One day t’will be that I shall smile
A smile that will be so worthwhile
For you’ll be gone, without a trace
No ghastly grin upon your face
Another’s smile my eyes will greet
His lips will bring me kisses sweet
His love will be my endless song
Go to the night, where you belong!
Uriah Heep is a creepy character who is one of the antagonists in Charles Dickens novel, David Copperfield. He is working for David’s friend, Mr. Wickfield. He uses Mr. Wickfield’s love for drink that is exacerbated by the death of his wife, to confuse Mr Wickfield and blackmail him into signing him as a partner of the business. His ultimate goal is to marry Agnes, Mr Wickfield’s daughter. David Copperfield takes an instant dislike to Uriah when he meets him. This poem is written in the voice of Agnes, who eventually marries David Copperfield.
For Smile Contest
By Linda
The dreaded day of the family meeting arrived
Elder planning, liquidating assets and dispersing 84 years of belongings
Excuses, postponing, manipulations, whining and reasonings--
Valid each and present
Partners in crime, codependent family structure with high disfunctional
communicaton skills, L-O-V-E spelled out many times like the sword of truth
and breastplate of righteousness.
Words were pitched and hurled then stroked like a fine persian cat with silken fur.
At the end of the day, with the word pile left in the floor like discarded dung; I
tucked my tail and departed. I hope against all odds that tomorrow will be a better
day and the grim reality of lost freedom will be swallowed with honey and accepted.
Instead of preparing for battle with gloves and sword. Until the stretched car takes
you away, be peaceful my love, L-O-V-E, spelled with emphasis on the OH OH.
My freedom is going quickly, along with my parents freedoms to chose and plan,
I will become responsible to see they get a bath, meals, medical care and to the
store. Will I have time for me?
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the lord my words to sweep
Away from the bitter heep
I pray the lord my heart to keep!
Will the people ever ball-
at the right of their figures?
And let cock be the trigger?
At the sign of the savior?
With the women in blazes?
True signs come and go,
it is amazing...
People heap hype at the sight of the mic,
at freight night-
and at soccer fields European wide.
But why confide?
Mean people act mean because they have mean to say,
I mean,
they wonder all day why they are that way!
But in a shining star,
people pretend to see afar,
just across the bar.
People will heep-hipe more clearer,
when the dogs try to lick silver,
they will see people right,
when the night turns into the revealer.
In time it will become,
because in my mind there is a plum-
so dam ripe,
I am starting to come.
Who is this man in the small red shorts and very dark hair?
Strutting through a garbage heep garage without a care?
It was like looking at a store and most certainly not green,
The ecological damage of over purchasing could be seen.
He was grooving through this mess in short shorts of red,
No shirt on looking like he just got out of his own bed,
The face was blurred and they thought no one could "see".
But I know the truth of who it was, it was told to me!
**someone needs to cut back on purchases,
he was something else to look at..
Ten thousand stitches maybe more
Two hundred patches to adore
Reminds me of my life before
before I moved away
All through summer and without leisure
She sat and sewed in constance pleasure
I watched Her every cut and measure
measured Me while out at play
Then in the fall, when Jack Frost creeped
up to my window, while fast asleep
found me bundled in a heep
of patches with out fray
Now through the years, when it gets cold
I lay in comfort, head to toe
Thanking God, Mom learned to sow
Right up until this day
Albert F Simmons's birthplace was Detroit Motor City.
Nature gilded him with vitality and wisely showed pity.
As the best undercover agent, his ethics were absurd.
Albert was smart, yet his mother lauded a devil herd.
He was a Marine officer and served in the Secret Service.
He later joined the CIA and NSA for a deadly purpose.
For his lion-like honesty, Jason Wynn set him on fire.
He meets his family in Hell and turns a hellspawn hire!
Albert is slain and died on a secret mission.
He is sent to Hell and seals with the devil a position.
Like a wild ape, he roams, losing his zest and zeal.
He lion-fights evil to avert fire and his soul to heal.
He returns to Earth after evolving into a hellspawn.
He is sent into history, which is his physical swan.
He took up arms as a warrior to rid society of its flaws.
He brought morality to criminals and outlaws.
He fights Zeus, hell, and earth as a cruel anti-hero.
His huge red cape and neoplasm outfit are heroes.
For gaming, chased down by a fighter demon.
The actual fighter angel, Jason Wynn, won!
He wears a hat on his face and has right and left feet.
He is a strong fighter with demonic immortality heat.
Heaven and hell are mocked as inscrutable beasts.
Heep, the green world champion, is elfin, to say least.
Too many fights on Earth, heaven, and darkness.
Such a poem isn't listed all, yet, a nest in harness.
Via supervillain death, hell is able to seize power.
Transforming hell into heaven as a flower!
Written: March 30, 2023
Written for the contest, Spawn
sponsor, Robert James Liguori
It swirls in with the wood grains on the floor
Like an implanted kiss from smeared lipstick
Conforming on it's own
like an individual fingerprint.
The texture turned to the same of an orange peel
Deprived of it's nectar with a gritty feel.
Once delighted in by a fortune single
Picked precisely for it's comforting tingle
Lays now in a heep, completely stranded
It's home laying deep in a pocket abandoned.
Thrown to the ground like nothing at all
Bruised with dirt, the evidence of it's fall
Unaware of the future's torment,
It adheres to the splinters
like hardened cement.
The length of it's stay determines release
The longer it holds the odds increase
Of being tortured with knives and razors
In sweat and tears and bleeding mascara.
Such a sad little story that's often not told
Until the reality of it happens
and the matters unfold.
With that being said and the facts all true
Why does gum still stick my shoe?
Ofttimes yours truly assiduously tries to adlib,
but blubbers like a landlubber
at sea treading water donned with bib
(that doubles as yellow
spongy bobbing life jacket)
furiously doing doggy paddle
riding the next tidal wave
hoop fully washing me ashore to crib
if need be to dig an underwater channel
painstakingly slow drabs and drib.
The English language I simply adore
though offtimes methinks waxing eloquent
affects listeners as yours truly a bore
in record time flapping waxed lips
beholds one gordian
tongue tied knot major chore,
whereby I wanna bolt out figurative door
feeling deplorable and stuck
analogous to Eeyore.
Ache 'n to launch into a monologue
or chime into ongoing dialogue
me noggin off times generates brain fog
mental state mimicking one,
who quaffed an over abundance of grog,
which for this teetotaler would constitute
a mere thimble full of drink,
perhaps rum enhanced eggnog
just one sip and boing I go
topsy turvy as if a felled log
hit me over the head
rendering me unconscious.
Thus wood explain mine altered state
though unsightly gash on pate
battle scar leveled playing field
with the missus, 't other significant primate
supplementing and complementing
one aging long haired
pencil (vane ya) necked geek
being caged, yet free
to roam within human zoo
both, (née all) of us captive
on carousel of time
nsync with every other *****sapien
begot to participate in circle game.
All superfluous joking aside,
I strive to groom conversation,
whereby uninterrupted flow of words
(versus fumfering, hemming, hawing,
stammering, stuttering...), thine
general oral feedback paradigmatic guide
ever diligent to think
before I speak with pride
else I heep discourtesy
upon myself and chide
yours truly with harsh rebukes,
which maybe tantamount
going off the mountainside
plummeting into the abyss
engenders an unpleasant
metaphoric roller coaster ride,
and if crash test dummy doth survive -
upon gibbet he will be tried
punishment broadcast world wide
for flagrant horrendous verbal
egregiousness (waywardness) he belied.
Well today I find myself stretching again
Passed tests trials and wicked heart men
Playing games on courts
Who me no door
Shuts close with no reason
Freedom comes in season
Time gains its now
Hope despair somehow
Catches up with lost time
Almost lost the mind
Sandy winds in eyes
Differently to cry
Tears of joy to die
Old life renewed
All the reason to choose
Team won without rules
This dude thought slick was slick memo
Producer with no demo
Riding tires without a limo
Stage with out bingo
Won with out a song
Hidden revealed who won
Sitting in the audience tables have crumbs
Snatcher and catchers
ballplayers flipped done
First place without a stump
Hills with no humps
Helicopters blades with days
News casters who lie trilogy
Rain passed storms windy chilly
Seasons have reasons
Maps have overlaps
But people insecure run miles with no crap
Tell tales and stories with lies
Promises made with goodbyes
Pimping Easy prostitute pushed down made to cry
Die deaths streets with beats
Undercover paid service with creeps
Heep down with locks too
Blurred Lines tell lies too
Who wrote Gaye lines paid lines have paid too
March 10, 2019 - Daylight Saving Time Starts
The homey nimble storied wisdom of
Benjamin Franklin still
admired during hour time,
especially noteworthy, for slime
molds, the second Sunday of March,
when theft linkedin with
(Ides say) most innocuous crime
re: stealth of precious sixty minutes, hence
a flash in the pan idea to expound rhyme,
which notional whim came like bolt of lightning,
while daydreaming 'bout (what else...but)
flying a kite during stormy (Daniels) clime.
thus, once again twilight
takes quantum leap
forward hut, our humble keep
sake hour hand of time
grudgingly advances without beep
ping, ewe know who of little lamb fame,
what with barely audible lil bo peep
predicated, asper in taking away thirty six
hundred seconds of sleep
subsequently marking
second Sunday when e'er deep
into Lion of winter month o' March rolls
around with least amount by Dickens
plaintively asking Uriah Heep
to crank up AC/DC dirty
Harry deed done dirt cheap
cuz, this tradition of sorts
supposedly doth reap
economic benefits plus
Circadian rhythm less steep
difference with contrivance
issuing Whatsapp hapt'n when leap
pin lizards such Iam
motioning carillon to alternate between
sepulchral and refulgent chime
creating less discordant
dilly dally dichotomy
reverberates all the way to Siam,
while aye blithely tapped out here
yours truly 'ere at his Schwenksville heim
taking poetic life (in hour hand)
liberty at pursuit this prime
mate takes to hash feeble
verse to eke out a dime
probably more realistic for me
to ply blimey hands with grime,
now suddenly bedeviled what to do
soundlessly communicating woe
whiz mere (mein kampf),
sans displaying mime
as a last ditch effort before time
to call quits with this futile rhyme.
Verse
When I saw who was calling
I didn't answer the phone
There was a pit in my stomach
Like I'd swallowed a stone
Collect call from jail
Do I want to accept?
If the tables were turned
Would I be feeling bereft?
Except that the inverse
Had never happened before
You practically live there
Engraved your name on the door
Prechorus
But I'm sick of sliding backwards
Sick of circling the drain
I was the last one in your corner
Tell me, now who will remain?
Chorus
You didn't think I'd go this far
And it's got you quite annoyed
But I can't do this any longer
And watch your future be destroyed
The path I hear you're on now
Strewn with needles, blood, and fuel
Thinking you know better
With your self-diagnostic tool
Verse
You thought you were so clever
With your technology and talk
But the sad truth of the matter
Is you're the bird that lost its flock
I saved your life a couple times
Started your breathing when you were blue
But the cats you choose to run with
Will they do the same for you?
A magnet for policemen
This Odyssey that you're on
You're the only one who thinks
Your path in life is any fun
Prechorus
But I'm sick of starting over
Tearing down everything I've built
Your unwillingness to try
Stabs me in the heart up to the hilt
Chorus
You didn't think I'd go this far
And it's got you quite annoyed
But I can't do this any longer
And watch your future be destroyed
You're not the man you used to be
He drowned in shards of glass
You're the one and only android
That self-destructed instead of hacked.
another day goes by in my world
another day with no one to hold
no one there to watch me sleep
only me a worthless heep
no mater what goes down
the city is safe and sound
the roses wraped arround your crown
never wilts when it the sun goes down
theres light again another day
words cant say what i cant say
the insomnia broken down
colapse in pain onto the ground
im on the outside looking back in
a broken body decks the halls
the ballance tipped from side to side
limed with the essance of foolish pride
no mater what goes down
the city is safe and sound
the roses wraped arround your crown
never wilts when it the sun goes down