Best Joystick Poems
Love unexpectedly came,
pulled up and swung open the door
Took me on a thrill ride,
and I'm loving every moment of it
Passion autobahn,
no speed dating restrictions
Scenic route of the heart landscape,
shifting gears with the love joystick
It's a thrill ride,
such a rapid romantic ride
What a rush ... wind sweeping the hair
Hugging the curves,
throwing all caution up in the air
Don't mind the occasional speed bump:
those slick-paved spirited debates,
disagreements that test the limit of our patience
I love the coming together part,
as we enter the tunnel of love ...
whooshing in the dark
What a thrill ride,
I'm having the time of my life
Now we're moving slow,
got the motor set on cruise control
Your eyes are telling me
where you want my hands to go
Revved up kisses taste like
chocolate sundaes at the drive-in show
Don't pump the brakes
on this thrill ride
Hug me closer at the bend
Lets take this lover's highway
further than we could ever go as friends
Categories:
joystick, fun, love, passion, relationship,
Form:
Free verse
My neighbour her name is Matilda
She used to step out with a builder
She loved the exotic, but became quite neurotic
When his lovemaking no longer thrilled her
Her plumbing was starting to go on the blink
And her toilet was leaking and so was her sink
She needed a man and she needed him quick
But her builder had fallen and cracked his joystick
Her cistern now broken, she needed the loo
So called out a plumber called Malcolm, she knew
He arrived with his tools and his six pack too
Her fantasy answered her dreams had come true
She succumbed to his charms and fell into his arms
Tattooed and muscular he was all she could wish for
But whilst they were frolicking her builder returned
As he gave her a rollicking, showing Malcolm the door
But Matilda and Malcolm were besotted
Malcolm’s spanner in hand, her builder she swatted
Now her love life’s exotic she’s no longer neurotic
Malcolm’s full of surprises in all shapes and sizes
Surprising Matilda each time his spanner rises
19th November 2018
Competition: Make me actually LOL
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Contest Strand Choice N
Sponsor Brian Strand
Categories:
joystick, humorous, sexy, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
Part 3 to, Thunder and The Future Soldier, a Trilogy
A wee little boy
From the other side of the world
In the hills of Virginia
Where serenity and calm reign
He meanders home from school
Baseball was such blast
All boys should be sentenced to such enchantments
He smiles, as his eyes gleam at father’s computer
Wow, a video game he sees
How I love those games he exclaims!
Curiosity has captured his imagination
As he plays with mouse and joystick
Far far away, in the land of ISIS
A jeep filled with soldiers
Whose only goal, is to fulfill their hatred
Allah they say, when it’s only narrow minds they worship
A drone fly’s overhead, surveilling these routes of ancient hate
Silently filming the movements below
Now we have an eye on the devil, from afar
Our heads in the clouds no more
The little boy is good at this game
He has played super Mario and more
So he takes his best shot
And KABOOM the jeep of devils explodes
The drone fires his missiles
Obliviating those inhuman targets below
Command and control in shock
The drone was unarmed after all
The little boy jumps in glee
That video game was tons of fun
Through an open window
The Butterfly flutters overhead,
A silent smile
Justice undone, now restored
Categories:
joystick, butterfly, child, religious, war,
Form:
Light Verse
What's your name" Was the first thing i said to myself when i saw you
Now that i know yo "The touch of you has become so special in my life"
"Momma said" There will be days like this"and im so glad ther is ,please don't let
me be misunderstood"When i say It's A Thin Line Between love And Hate" Tonight's The
NIght"And i want to put it down on paper for you some of this Pure Genuine Mixed Love
So when i say" Hey LoveKnow that you Make My Love Come Down"And that's what
makes the World go round" my World anyway' Who would have thouhjt A "Sadgirl"
A LonelyGirl" like myself could bring so much brightness into a Thug's Life?You dried
up the tears of a clown"stoppedme from being down, broUght me from "Cowboys to Cowgirls
.Now you got me hanging on your string because I'm Your Puppet.What could i do?
You Dropped The Bomb On Me".Im not used to this ,The Town I live In We Smile Now
And Cry Later" Let's Just Kiss And Say Goodbye" is a way of Life Then"BurnRubber"
and never come back!I thoUght i had a choice in this mixed up World and Baby im for
real's"When i say in these Arm's of mine" There Ain't No Woman Like Tha One you Got"Oh
and when you get out. How We'll Be Sitting On The
Dock of the Bay "Under The Boardwalk"Together Baby"
I picture thing really,I've been
"Wishing On a Star"Cruising On A Fantastic Voyage, me sitting SHOTGUN"PLAYING with
your "JOYSTICK"Yeah
that's what i'm talking about,
Baby. For now,It's just a Dream' A Dream Of Sexual
Healing" Not To Mention More Bounce To The Ounce,
With All My Love" That I Have For You "Let's Get It On,Not
once Do i Stop Thinking How Deep Is Your Love" So Darling
Forever Let's Stay Together
Please Don"T Be A HeartBreaker".Because I Do
Love You"And You Could so EasilyTurn My World "Misty
Blue" Please,Please.DoN"t think of me as a game because
"BABY I'M FOR REAL"When a boy falls in love with me i think "IT MUST BE MAGIC"I
never wanted to play the game of "MAKE UP TO BREAK UP"As far as im concerned "I'M
NEVER GOING TO GIVE YOU UP".i'D RATHER GO BLIND, THEN BE
"YEARNING FOR YOUR LOVE" I just want to tell it like
this"I NO MATTER WHAT'I'LL WILL BE THERE BEFORE THE NEXT TEARDROP FALLS"If there's
ever something on your mind "remember you can "COME AND TALK TO ME"
try me,THIS MAGIC MOMENT,Ihave 'NOTHING BUT LOVE FOR YOU BABY.
Categories:
joystick, son, song-lyricme, world, love,
Form:
Name
. A wanna be Limerick
Limerick ride needing no joystick.
Daver your comments get me homesick.
Wishing I was with my homeboys in Boston!
Lace Maryjane, a condition you gave me, Mr.Austin!
Hope my riddles never get you brainsick.
. A wanna be Haiku
. Contract on P.D.
. Go get a hold of Don__?___
. GOOD spirit DAVER
I also confiscated an old antique or two.
Unique skills found in their retired war shoes.
(awe you where in my poetry police #1)
From: P.D.
Dedicated to:Daver Austin
Categories:
joystick, dedication, funny
Form:
Limerick
there was a young man from Havana
whose joystick was like a banana
every girl wants to feel
when they did it would squeal
kiss me quick we will reach Nirvana*
*state of blissful repose
Penned 5th May 2014
Categories:
joystick, funny,
Form:
Limerick
I dreamed once a future
with Mary and her long claws
suspended from a dragon body
captive and held by force field
hidden beneath a big cowled robe
saddened by a stainless steel trough
and a baby tended by robots.
Joesph busily scanned nametags
from angels misting purifiers.
The drummer boy stood by self-playing
digital drum and keyboard
while field hands guided home cattle
with drones directed by a joystick.
The tri-satellite video capture
appeared simultaneously
on all earthling implants
and all tipped with a click and smile
but when the three kings zoomed in
from Mars on hovercraft,
everyone reposted. Alas,
it was all an eggnog induced
hallucination cured by my analyst
mind wipe. Merry Christmas Techies.
11/24/2018
Categories:
joystick, angel, christmas, dream, mental
Form:
Free verse
I like how you play
super mario all day
Seems so tiring for a guy
Who cant wait to sigh
She riding your joystick
A rollercoaster fit
shes wet like the rollercoaster ride
And then she goes slide
You like how she plays
And how shes wants to stay
Hungry for another game
a girl untamed
Your drinking up the fun
Freaky stuff are being done
I know your skill with your hands
She on your the number one rank
(Inspired by Lee and Based on Mr.Crush)
Categories:
joystick, epic
Form:
Rhyme
Jealous, Jealous, Jealous
The swiftness of the Vessa just killed me,
That speed and the grandeur of the seat,
The frame’s shine and the four wheels free,
The maroon leather upholstery neat.
The diagonal pattern on the seat and back,
Which made diamond shapes all over,
Reminded me of Pringles golf wear sack,
That sportsmen buy, their goods designer.
The prestige of owning one was immense,
A Vessa with thin black joystick, gray box,
Orange on/off button for your own sense,
To use wisely to be the batteries’ prox.
That privilege, that air that they all held,
Even made their severe disabilities trivial,
Counted them as people who so gelled,
With normality, the cool and the convivial.
I couldn’t walk at all well, sore feet often,
And in Primary Two asked of my physio,
That she give me in order to cheer, soften,
An electric wheelchair for my portfolio.
I wasn’t asking for a Vessa, not at all,
Just a Bec, ‘cos that could be anyone’s
They were blue, just for indoors, did stall,
And there were some just sat there, tuns.
My feet got sore and I was badly in pain,
Because mum insisted on Clarks shoes,
Old fashioned, hard, so I did complain,
Ås I saw trainers that would fit my toes,
My mum’s strict faith said no to sense,
No to love and yes to abuse, I’d loose,
So I explained to my physio, no nonsense,
That Christianity meant my pain, choose.
My mum thought trainers were worldly,
Demonic, non-Christian, rough and sinful,
But I didn’t know my credibility fully,
And so my physio said no more mouthful.
I knew it would’ve given me a life,
A mouth, a mode that could let me talk,
‘Cos I couldn’t talk and walk, my strife,
Together, simultaneously, talk and walk.
So at school I was always jealous,
Of those with a Vessa who got respect,
From every staff member zealous,
To enhance their freedom prospect.
I got my Vessa at university, shiney,
But I saw it rationally and with thought,
Understood something had blatantly,
Gone wrong, since it I’d only just bought.
But I appreciated my Vessa so much,
At Uni, no-one knew the status or fuss,
That’d been attached to it, not to touch,
At my special school, uh ha, for all of us.
Categories:
joystick, caregiving, child abuse, education,
Form:
Quatrain
peppy porcelain puppy poops on the floor
wacky winged walrus whizzes on the door
enigmatic eonian elephant espies some bamboo
clever castrated cormorant shrieks yahoo
brassiere-busting bonobo barfs on the table
maniacal mystic monkey freaks on cable
sly sonambulent sloth bear slumbers in his cave
natty naughty nutty newt nests in a wave
dizzy ditzy doormouse dances with a broomstick
tawdry turgid tiger toys with his joystick
rugged recondite raccoon races up rut-marred roads
finicky febrile frog farts on frightened toads
this sonnet celebrates sassiness midst sundry incantations
~ surrenders to insanity and scoffs at punctuation
Categories:
joystick, adventure, nonsense, word play,
Form:
Alliteration
You failed to take your Drone Control Command Kit
as you hurried off at dawn for work this early morn.
Unmindful, I mistook it for a fancy Xbox game contraption,
so commenced a match of Shock and Awe to while away the time
and with the joystick, hot and pulsing, quickly opened fire
at some evil bad-guy villains lurking down below
(nearby, a bus with random kids
confused, in fear and hiding).
Left quite a bit of childish crimson carnage flowing
on congested streets inside a city storming
somewhere…
thank goodness, very far away from here.
Please forgive me, for I think it was
your very last remaining
smart-precision missile…
yes, that pretty one you’d kept so long,
and meant to use some day to sanctify
a humble wedding-day reception…
but as you know I've always had a hang
for children's senseless macho playthings.
Categories:
joystick, horror, irony, war,
Form:
Free verse
Zoom it, baby ...
glide nice and easy right on in
Spray it baby ...
sweat splash me again
Do it now!
Cool the fire burning my suntan skin
Ignite your V-8 bipedal engine again;
get it kick started, good hot revving
Make me feel the heat rising within
Now move, baby move —
let fast and furious momentum take over
the idyllic island mood
Get the passion swaying
with a coral undercurrent groove
Put the love skis on the wave crest;
with the heave of the heart ...
ride, baby, ride
Jet slide astride the treasure chest
Surf the erotic surge,
release the pressure of the pleasure purge
Boom it, baby ...
pull the joystick into full throttle
Spray the juice, baby ...
empty the smoking fuel bottle
Exhaustion is pure ecstasy
Take the jet skis
on a wondrous wind dolphin flight in mid-air
At the height of the climatic release,
hydroplane power down
into the resting harbor star of my bosom lair
Categories:
joystick, metaphor, passion, sensual, water,
Form:
Rhyme
Superman
Super bat
Batman’s on the run
Batman’ gay
Gay today
Gay’s the other way
Way to go
Way out boy
Boy Wonder has to know
Boy to girl
Girl to boy
Girl is daddy’s joy
Joyful noise
Joystick toys
Toys with your emotions
Toys for grown ups
Ups and down
Ups the elevation
Elevation higher up
Elevation’s high
High old time
High as I might
Might I touch your thigh
Might I touch you please
Pleased to meet you
Please dear lady
Lady do you think we might
Lady if we could but dither
Dither through the night 29
Dither not no
No we must
No we must not tarry
Tarry not t’would be our loss
Tarry no more tonight
Tonight we must venture forth
Tonight who knows we might
Might we just
Might one more time
Time to love
Time to lust
Lust is not all bad 41
Lust for good
Good for all
Good for good this time 44
Time to make up
Time to love
Love to love again 47
Again we go back
Back
Again
Categories:
joystick, dark, emo, boy,
Form:
Blitz
Children's lives don't matter (Death of the American dream)
He polishes his weapon...
an AR15
This time it's not a joystick in his hands
His face is unflinching...
full of contempt
his black heart belies any feeling
Bridge 1
In dead of night...he plans...his body count
without a care...loading magazines
he puts his conscience on hold
Entering the schoolyard...bullets release his wrath
Slaughtering the children like a psychopath
Is he pure evil...or has he lost his mind?
We'll know the answers in due time
Chorus
A small survivor...barely a teen
is still alive, but, has been battered
Is this the death of the American dream?
Seems like children's lives don't matter
He polishes his weapon...an AR 15
this time it's not a joystick in his hands
He carries his weapon...an AR 15
slaughtering the children like a psychopath
Bridge 1
In dead of night...he plans...his body count
without a care...loading magazines
he puts his conscience on hold
Chorus
A small survivor...barely a teen
is still alive, but, has been battered
Is this the death of the American dream?
Seems like children's lives don't matter
Is this the death of the American dream?
Seems like children's lives don't matter
Is this the death of the American dream?
Seems like children's lives don't matter...
Seems like children's lives don't matter...
Seems like children's lives don't matter...
repeat and fade
John Derek Hamilton
March 22, 2018
Categories:
joystick, children, crazy, future,
Form:
Lyric
"TUNING MY THOUGHTS"
Oh my Almighty!
Days passed so hasty,
Life is now withered & wild,
Please turn me back into a child.
If I really get such chance,
I would roll on,jump & dance.
Receiving this boon as a gain,
I wish to pamper my childhood again.
On the large crystalling heap of sand,
I build a castle with my little hand.
With the multi-colored china clay,
I make the toys & love to play.
On a pleasant,chill & breezy evening,
When the clouds burst out & start showering,
Enfolding the paper into a l'le boat,
I rush into the rain & let it float.
I enjoy the flavour of lollipop,
By smacking it from bottom to top.
I wish to fill all my pockets,
With large varieties of yummy chocolates.
My thumbs dance on the buttons of joystick,
To play the games merely fantastic.
Passing the minutes with frolic & fun,
Leaving my homeworks absolutely undone.
Iam now no more a kid,
To act & play as they did.
If I wish to be childish & noisy,
People yell that Iam gone crazy.
Twinkle Twinkle little star,
Every kid is a "sizzling star".
Iam left out with no more phrase,
To garnish the beauty of childhood days.
Categories:
joystick, childhoodchildhood, childhood,
Form:
ABC