Best Knucklehead Poems
A Nook and a Storybook
His leg was broke and his pride hurt
As he began to read.
That knucklehead he called his hoss
Had stumbled at full speed.
"Read a good book", the doc had said,
"The healin' takes awhile.
Just make a nest in that bunkhouse,
Pretend you're still a child."
He read of a man like himself -
A cowboy with a call.
The Virginian was the title,
That didn't say it all.
The hero shaped the West back when
The boundaries weren't so clear.
A man, a hoss, and a forty five,
An' danger always near.
Loves were found and painfully lost
While tempers roared aloud.
He found himself on every page,
An' he was cowboy proud.
He lived his life just punchin' cows,
An' wrote out his own tales.
He hoped that they'd be read someday -
After the cowboy pales.
April 28, 2016
Categories:
knucklehead,
Form:
Quatrain
Yeyy you come
I thought you’d never come
What a foolish one
You are
Act like a knucklehead
Full of balloons
Hot air and helium
Can’t see where it is flying
The wind carries you anywhere it chooses?
You need to be anchored up!
Categories:
knucklehead, faith,
Form:
Free verse
I fast boy, this aint no foot race
What you playing?
What, you think you got a game ginni in your game pack
Well, I paint Black
And stain them in Pain on rare occasions
Occassionaly coming up in death throes
Dead body is my stomping ground on this beat
My melody be blasting bastards, knocking em backwards
the Force of theses 5 Felonies be unappropriate behaviors
And if you ever seen me in Airstrik...es,
Well, when you seem me you'll be very quiet
And if you thought it was adequate
my accurrecy so precise you can't phantom the damn damage
You know Im real skilled, and the satisfaction of it leaves me upset still
It was Mercy from God for me to carry this pain cause it suits me like it is a deep love
If Seashell's is ever in Hell then I'll be busting a knucklehead if he wants to act a badass
This aint a brag, no we never come in a boast boy,in my conduct I be, I promise you honorable,I standup as I stand for a higher standard
and when i get mad i act bad, When im in a heavy conflict
jaxattacks are my chosen tactics,
And nowhere in my eyes does she see me ever being a leader or getting the best of a ***** when she on my badside
My Blood cleansed that land, I faced the devil slanging quarters and halves in every which direction like my creation changed due to evolution thru the fact that i was moving too ****ing fast man, But i grew out of it like I went from panic to romantic attacks
From the battles with the devil and demons and nets set , and tribulations and Mania and Im still maniac, Still A disciple of Ninjitsu, my senses still keen, iM SINGLE till i get my possessions back, the love in my heart concealed, its so hard to hide my love I feel so many sharp p[ains,Love Felt feel these steel bars they are a million you would have to go thru to hope to find one, a connection u never dectected the quality of,im 10 times 99topics liike im a balla up talking in manner never heard of, be the bang that yo body been starving for, rt
Categories:
knucklehead, dark, history, me, pain,
Form:
Lyric
It isn’t the incandescence that bothers me
It’s that anyway you spin the arrow,
Whatever goal or mission or path you undertake,
They’re all correct.
The full force of your efforts is all that matters.
A congress of pelicans came to dinner last night
While I swung scallops at the High Mistress.
The miasma! My asthma!
You’ve driven me right down Knucklehead Lane now.
My knee hurts. I should’ve taken Hertz and
Let the engine roar up into a God-awful thunder.
Jumping in and out of mosques.
Carrying news I can't interpret.
Practicing silliness under the cupboard,
Beside the space that has no name.
I am that space with a wicked haughtiness.
I am also however lofty I dare my balloon to rise,
Navigating my own slim spool.
Dr. Thumbopolis is ready for me now.
Time to stop writing.
Don’t dare bring this back to “incandescence.”
(You horrible hack.)
What bothers you if not the flooding light
Busting through baseboards, then?
Go on. Answer.
Categories:
knucklehead, life,
Form:
Free verse
Morning funeral
He was eighty-six
Ready to go, angry about everything.
Tired of being here, irritated he cannot drive any more
Thrilled to go, probably driving a race car in heaven
Green Bay Packers fan
Black and white photo of him at age 3 or 4.
Probably the only one taken until his wedding photo
Murmur amongst the spectators
His widow has arrived with her wheelchair and oxygen tank.
People shuffle, making space.
She is much thinner than her photo,
Looks half her size.
Sweet lady. She is sitting six feet from his body
Not being able to see him at all, too low.
Some knucklehead had placed a dirty block of
Make-believe cheese on the welcome table with the photos.
Not understanding anything about the Packers, I disposed of it
For them. Thinking some street bum had placed it there, playing a joke.
This is me, sneaking it back out of the garbage, trying to nonchalantly
Sneak it back onto the table with the other mementos. How did I know the
Green Bay Packers are called the “cheese heads”?
Sometimes I can be a bit too helpful.
Categories:
knucklehead, death, eulogy, fun, funeral,
Form:
Light Verse
Dimwits and Those That Are Dumb
Candidates with each other contended
Maybe Constitution should be amended
And in certain part of it the way it read
For President can't run if a knucklehead.
Of before you never made any sense
And to everyone was always a nuisance
Then forever our poor patience trying
Could tell after you heard all of his lying.
No telling what next he will have in store
I know for certain and am sure abhor
Not allow country to have an immigrant
Back home the rest of them have sent.
Was a university many had called Trump
Flush out the idiots needed a sump pump
And in your big brain barely made a dent
Recognized as a fool wherever you went.
Imagine Trump to his hair adding color
Instead of orange and yellow was duller
Normal again he finally would become
Even to dimwits and those that are dumb.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Among other things
Categories:
knucklehead, howl, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
I Am: Hello guys it’s an honor, fellows
Moe: HELLO!
Larry: HELLO!
Curly: HELLO!
The Three Stooges: HELLOS!
I Am: You’re known as half-wits, birdbrains, knuckleheads,
Curly, you’re known as Porky pine, right?
As a little girl I never appreciated rough-housing humor.
Moe a mean man and you weren’t very bright
I did adore Curly with sisterly affection.
Curly: You ain’t half bad yourself toots! With my reclamation
Moe: Remind me to kill you later, hmm, maybe strangulation
Curly: OK, I’ll make a note of it! Can’t make me worry
Larry: Stick up for yourself Curly!
Moe: Yeah, what do you have to say?
Curly: Well, I oughta—tell ya another day
Moe: You oughta what? Have some finess
Curly: I oughta mind my own business
Moe: That’s better! Porky Pine
I Am: Moe, would you take another question of mine?
Moe: Yeah, make it snappy,
Larry: Moe’s always been too slap happy
I AM: Were you at one time called Ted Healy’s Racketeers?
Moe: The Southern Gent’s, knucklehead! Like the Three Musketeers
I Am: Your genres are farce, slapstick, musical comedy
Curly is the schlemiel—stupid, childish, and clumsy.
Larry is the schlimazel because he's not quite as stupid
but still ends up unlucky with cupid.
Moe, are you the aggressive and short-tempered leader of you three?
Curly: Why coitainly
Moe: The lady, you imbecile, is talking to me,
Curly: Hey, I resemble that remark!
Curly: Hey Moe, I can’t see! I can’t see!
Moe: Why’s that? Is it too dark?
Curly: ‘Cuz I have my eyes closed!
Moe: Wait’ll I punch you in the nose!
I Am: My best Three Stooges episodes were—Brideless Groom,
Disorder in the Court, Malice in the Palace, Sing a Song of Six Pants,
and Heavenly Daze
Larry: That’s five. Miss I Am are you in a haze?
Moe: Yeah Genius!
I Am: Thank you for your calculation, I quess
I Am: Do any one of you have a real job anywhere?
Curly: Why coitainly, I just got a job in a bakery
Moe: You never told me that numskull. What do you do there?
Curly: I’m a loafer!
Larry: That’s not surprising, and tell her you were a chauffer
I Am: Goodnight “Three Stooges” Love and Luck
Curly: Asta! NYUK! NYUK! NYUK!
Categories:
knucklehead, celebrity, funny, giggle, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Hey angel baby,
This is just for you,
Take you back to our old school,
On the benches or the steps is where I use to hold you,
Where I held your hand in mine for the first time
My front yard is where you first told me hi
No one so beautiful had caught my eyes
Ask my brother he'll tell you knucklehead here was mesmerized
Then you smiled and I was hypnotized
Wanted to tell you I like you but I was too shy to do it
I think about it now, you were too
Because you had your cousin ask me out for you
But it was sweetly, innocently cute
Awe that’s one of my favorite memories of you
And hey word I was a lil perve and you know
Had a lil chubby 13yr old at night staring up at your window
What a fool but you were too awesome saying it was cool
We were young having fun when it was ok to be normal
And dumb was how we played like ‘10cents a minuet’
Matter of fact I got a jar full of dimes and I’m going to spend it ;)
For real though the time I had with you I loved every second
I know we both wish it hadn't ended
But it’s like it never did
Even though we moved on as teenage kids
You still been my best friend even through my ********
And you can have anything I can give
And oh I didn’t forget
SMILEY I love ya
From your best friend BUBBA
-bkmjr 2011-
Categories:
knucklehead, childhood, friendship, happiness, love,
Form:
Thunder booms at three a.m.,
Reverberations shake the house.
Lightning strikes with blinding flash,
While snores come from my sleeping spouse.
The roar of rain pelting the roof,
Wind gusts beat against windowpanes.
Lying awake with pounding heart,
Praying I don't hear a train.**
Eyes are heavy, needing sleep,
But thunder and lightning keep me awake.
I wish this storm would blow away,
Don't know how much more my nerves can take.
At last the angry storm abates,
My weary body can relax and rest.
I close my eyes prepared to sleep...
Only to hear hubby's chainsaw at its best!
Frustration builds and I want to scream,
"Wake up you noisy knucklehead!"
But with great restraint I hold my peace,
And snuggle close to him instead.
**(a tornado is said to sound like a train when it approaches.)
Categories:
knucklehead, angst, nature, storm,
Form:
Quatrain
He wasn't such a bright kid,
big ideas filled his head...
my advice was always useless,
see him now in his madness!
He thought he was a genius,
flashing hundred dollars bills as fools,
and spending money on silly things,
he didn't appreciate their worthiness.
And worst of all, he quit his job as salesperson
and baby-sits his baby all day to prove his fatherly affection;
his fiance works nights to bring home the bread:
is this teen a responsible young man or a knucklehead?
An attractive young lady shouldn't be allowed
to work in places where temptations abound,
or where danger lurks behind the stools of a bar
as drunken customers can lure anyone and drive far.
Does anyone, sane as me, see this teen's foolishness;
and what your advice would be in a matter such as this?
Am I judging him wrong? Should I look away and approve
his naive thinking by helping him increase his criminal groove?
Written for Natalie:) The Rouge Rhymer's contest,
" Genius or Criminal "
Categories:
knucklehead, family, girlfriend-boyfriend, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
Lord, I've come a long ways today
Got further yet to go
I know You're ridin' with me now
Somehow I know it's so
I like to think I see Your face
In every water hole
An' feel Your arms on my shoulder
When that north wind blows cold
I pray that You will keep me safe
From danger tomorrow
Keep my loved ones in Your embrace
Spare us all from sorrow
Lord I sensed You were tired today
Ride the Paint in the morn
Don't choose that knucklehead Buckskin
He'll throw You in the thorn
August 17, 2016
For Contest "Prayer"
Categories:
knucklehead, prayer,
Form:
Quatrain
Knucklehead
~~~~~~~~~~
He won't take the meds, and knows that he'll die
If he misses those pills at the wrong time
Child of an irresistible force stubborn to a fault
Grew up to be the immovable object
Phenomenal IQ they say, yet he's perplexed
By the simplest things, distracted by stuff that’s shiny
And loves his cookies to a fault
Very caring and sharing, his last dollar to you he’ll give
Not giving it a second thought
Having survived falling from the top so many times
But he somehow manages to rise, again and again
She was right when she called him a knucklehead.
Categories:
knucklehead, life
Form:
Prose Poetry
Everybody had a personal favorite or that one teacher that for some reason we just didn't like. Back in the day, when I was in 6th grade, there was a math teacher that for some reason we just didn't get along with each other. I was a bit of a wise-guy, and he was a bit of a hard-guy who always thought he was all that. His hairdo resembled Elvis' and he always wore sunglasses, even while teaching. He clearly thought he was the real-life Fonz. Me, well I was the real-life Spanky. One Friday he made me stay after school for two hours because I pied in the classroom, and I called him an idiot because he wouldn't let me go to the restroom when nature called. I asked him three times, and he just wouldn't let me go. My bladder hurt so bad that I just couldn't take it any longer. Squeezing my peepee, trying to hold it in, I ran to the corner of the classroom and let the yellow river flow. I never told my parents what happened or the real reason why I was held back after school, I thought I would get more trouble with them. I got him back though. The following Monday I went to my classroom early, and before he got there, I secretly put a thumb tack on his chair. Well, my plan worked, the idiot sat directly on it with force. He popped up quicker than a Jack-in-the box and his glasses flew off his head. I don't think he actually thought anyone had put it there because he never said a word to any of us. He just picked up his glasses off the floor and started teaching. The very next day, I did it again and the knucklehead sat on it again. This time he knew it wasn't accidental and he threatened to give everyone an F until someone confessed. I never did confess, and everyone never did get an F. Years later, when I was out of school we met up by chance at a local bar and I confessed to him. He apologized to me and also confessed to me saying- "I knew it was you all along" We laughed like hell and bought each other shots of tequila and toasted to the good old days. We became pretty good friends after that. Weird how the world works sometimes.
I was a sly fox
he was a Jack-in the box
we became good friends
Categories:
knucklehead, 6th grade, teacher,
Form:
Haibun
What do you like about him? Her father asked.
He’s got a great smile, she said, sheepishly.
There was a giggle too, a tiny one.
He seems like a knucklehead to me, a dunce.
You have to get to know him, she told him.
I will try, he lied.
He had already seen enough of this guy.
a know-nothing, do-nothing.
he was not tolerable until their first child was born.
In one instant, he was brilliant.
Hello Grandpa
Categories:
knucklehead, humor,
Form:
Free verse
Hey, guess what I discovered. It's really a gas,
the most extraordinary kind of magical glass.
I gazed at it this morning, and what did I see,
but the funniest guy, who looked nothing like me.
With bags under his eyes, and in need of a shave,
this guy didn't seem to know how to behave.
When I approached closely to get a better view,
we painfully collided, and then I came to.
What a knucklehead, is all I have to say.
When I backed off, that chicken went the other way.
That glorified bozo matched my every move.
He must've been trying to get into my groove.
I've carefully studied the strange beasts' comportment.
He's somewhat limited in the brains department.
I try to be friendly. I try to be affable,
to the creature who is eminently laughable,
but his opinions are closed up. He's blind as a bat.
Too bad he lacks my perception to know where it's at.
Hey, it comes with instructions. I'll have to review:
"look into this glass and you will see the real you."
Categories:
knucklehead, mirror, psychological,
Form:
Rhyme