Best Meanie Poems
(A parody of the Modern Major-General's Song from "The Pirates of Penzance" by Gilbert and Sullivan.)
I am the very model of a very stable genius.
Compared to mine all others’ ...brains... are positively weeny; yes,
My grasp of science, history, and law is astronomical.
No need to read; I go by feel! (It’s highly economical.)
My sober tweets would make a truly fine encyclopedia
For fighting lies of traitors in the damn elitist media.
It’s sad how badly haters hate and treat me like a meanie; yes,
And all because I am, in fact, a very stable genius.
I see the world in black and white; hooray for monochromacy!
It shows the unnecessity of nuance and diplomacy.
No matter what I do, my fans consider me adorable;
Their loyalty to how I roll is not the least deplorable.
A win like mine (I surely could have had a clear majority!)
By common wisdom should confer a little more authority.
In short, I envy autocrats like Kim and Mussolini; yes,
I am the very model of a very stable genius.
Did you ever have the feeling there's a man in your can?
Or a ball down the hall with an eye to spy?
Sometimes I'm sure I have ants on a tour of my house without cure.
And sometimes I know there's a pup in my cup, yelling "Hey, what's up!"
And that white ram in the door jam well, he's on the lam.
That's the kind of paranoia I live with each day.
I admit I'm delusional in a big way!
Some visitors are quite friendly like the girl with a curl under my bed with Earle.
But Bower in the shower, well he sings for hours!
And the lady named Sadie why she is quite shady!
I like Randy. He always has candy.
But the man looking at me in the TV, him I wish I couldn't see.
All the brunettes in the cabinets, they love to dance about.
But that meanie named Bellini, him I could do without!
The cat in my hat I don't like at all.
And I get quite nervous when Saul runs down the hall.
The bears on the stairs taunt me without a sound.
And so do the others who like to hang around.
Like Bert, and Mert, and Kurt, and Gert who live inside my shirt.
I don't care if you don't believe it, find me my straitjacket. I'll never leave it!
*Based on the book, There's a Wocket in My Pocket
for Dr. Seuss Theme and Form contest (Joann Grisetti)
Seventh Place
There once was a fight on my plate
In front of my face while I ate
The Broccoli on the left picked up its Spear
And stabbed the Corn on the right, right in the Ear
The Avocado Artichoked the Zucchini
Before the Pepper rang the Bell on that meanie
The Onion went to Bed on the Lettuce and cried
Afraid that the Beets on the side were all Red cause they died
The Okra came in and slimed the whole affair
While the Yams slammed and Squashed the Cauliflower
The Peas ended up with Black Eyes
Next to the Potatoes that were mashed up and fried
The Cabbage brought it all to a head
Which Steamed the Asparagus with all that was said
There once was a fight on my plate
In front of my face while I ate
Under his nose hung a big greenie.
The kids all thought he was a meanie.
He didn't have a hankie.
That's why he was so cranky.
Also, he had a hollow weenie.
Full title:
LIFELONG, MEANINGLESS MUSINGS MEAN EVERYTHING OF NO VALUE
aka
OFF THE WALL RAMBLINGS
After upscale meals, I know no relief
until I somehow pick my un-fancy teeth.
Serve me good food in my own home
and these same teeth leave me alone.
At work, when I am approached by someone
who wishes to run some questions by me,
I silently laugh at an image most fun –
question marks toting briefcases as they run.
When my hands are dish-washing sudsy
or toting a large box for some distance,
an air fairy enjoys itching my nose nutsy
until I concede and scratch it roughly.
Any new clothes I hang up that are white,
closet creatures beat with yellow chains
and their marks will not wash out of sight.
The more I love it, the more yellow remains.
Things do grow legs and then walk away.
I tend to nest surrounded by my stuff.
I will not move, but my stuff will parade,
decay, migrate, and evade me, sure enough.
There exist an invisible, rude agitator
who throws dirt inside my refrigerator.
Every week or so, this frig mini-meanie does put
grime, spots, ice-hard raised trails and odd soot.
My air fairy, closet creatures and frig mini-meanie were all to me, assigned.
I know this because I often move and still, it is where I go that they find.
... CayCay Jennings
November 24, 2016
You’ve heard of eeny meanie
How he died a fitting death
He had more fame, it seems to me
Than Shakespeare or Macbeth
Held accountable he was
After capture and a bounty
For the sins Stephen Duncan
Boss of Issaquena County
Too bad for mister miney mo
He’ll have to pay the price
Out to the Mississippi Bridge
We’d love to hang him twice
Held to dangle by the toe
So that everyone would know
Said the slaven to the hangman
If he hollers let him go
Copyright © Mike Martin 2015
Her name is Seren
Yes the proud welsh girl, not foe, hopefully a fren
The number of contest she entered, maybe a million
On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d give her a billion
She has passionately stated her favorite color is green
She talked about more shades than I think I’ve seen
My vision isn’t great, but good thing I’m not color blind too
Then I’d be like those Greeks, with one word for green and blue
She also has a pooch named Tilly
If that’s a variation of Teal then she’s green silly
Maybe instead of silly I better choose a synonym
Lest emerald becomes jade and I sing a new hymn
Yes of PD, I could write clerihews day and night
However, whatever I may or might write, it’s never in spite
She loves alliteration, writing recklessly reaping rich reward
Of ailing alliteration, I’m alienated, not even a steady steward
I think my friend PD thinks I’m the meanie
With my clerihew about seeds, I think she dubbed me weenie
I am sorry Linda, I was going to remove it from the site
But too many others found some delight
Last but not least ThePhilosopher, yeah that’s me
The one that always seems to be lost at sea
You would think either past or present I was a sailor
However on life’s quest I’ve been quite the delayer
My name is Wayland, no not the first nor the third
I am the second and sometimes I mention a bird
Speaking of the bird, I look at the top 100 poems list
And obviously there is something that I missed
When I speak of the top 100’s list, I mean for two weeks
Some post almost two hundred, yes 200, they aren’t meek
I wonder how it’s possible and then I read their verse
Many times I’m often left to curse
But since when did ThePhilosopher, become the judger of prose
His clerihews always talking about these, thou, and those
I should change my name to King James
But my buddy is already King of the Quatrains
Oh yes My buddy Jack will be the last
The subjects he writes about are vast
Too many to remember with all his pretty words
When I think of his poems I don’t think of birds
I recently read his poem titled bums unite
He said he gave them money at times, it probably felt right
He said someday they may even get a ten spot
If someone gives me a ten spot, then I’m yelling JACKPOT!
*these are always done if fun, hahaha another random rhyme
Jack Ellison wasn't from Nantucket
I read prose that his cleaning lady had a nice bucket
But he vowed to look in silence quite as a mouse
For fear of sleeping in the perpetual doghouse
PD, appears and disappears like whoodini
I have seen the poems where she's a meanie
She also wrote about trading seeds for a donkey
She could have just as easily traded seeds for her monkey
Thephilosopher, what a silly nick indeed
He would trade if he only had a seed
A good monkey he could certainly use
Or would the ass he choose?
I would write about a Star I once knew
But from sight has she flew
Entering contest after contest without fail
A questionable close here could lead to hell
Wayland Bunch mentioned afore
He often rambles and can bore
His idea of humor often misconstrued
If he were a famous writer he'd be sued
There is a poet here named gigno
What is up with him though
Commenting with three exclamations
Does he think they equal explanations?
The Gaijin, clerihew after clerihew he did write
He gave up being Haijin, mostly out of spite
Who wants to write only three lines of poetry, he mopes
Haikus are for dopes (haha, that one should draw some attention)
He's called NietzscheThePhilosipher on Mocospace
Beware moco is a dirty dirty place
He went there often just to chat
But found out that perversion was the welcome mat
The boy from Texas wasn't scared though
He heard much worse, although he says it aint so
One time or two he wrote a clerihew
Becareful lest the next clerihew be about you
He read Jack's quatrains almost everday
They were medicine to the soul he would say
Maybe vodka to the inhibitions explains it best
If not, he'll just drink the vodka and forget the rest
I think I should mention Linda once more
I won't even write what you think, I don't need the war
I live by peace for all, that's the key
What happens if this last line contains piece and monkey (hahahaha)
What is it you've said when
you never said that at all
and why did it read between the lines
you're dead and never written?
I'm confused.
I thought you were being used
to channel heaven-sent the scent of mystery
yet here I see upon the scene
the angels are abused.
Tell me I'm not in trouble
with all this double mumbo jumble
means of a meanie to gain your attention
and thereby sway
to the dance of the absurd.
Yes, tell me its all okay to lay
upon the papered sage (or is that purpled?),
or lie if in the end its all pretend anyway.
Huh ... what'd she say?
Eanie, meanie, miney, moe,
Watch how my canabis plant does grow
Itsy, bitsy, and much, much more
Watch the cops break down my door
In front of the judge, how do you plead?
I suddenly realize he's the one that
sold me the seed!
He was grizzled, intimidating, the original Viking all in black.
We were fearful, tearful, he was frightened us. We felt lack.
Is he a Viking? A Trojan? A Greek? A devil not clearly seen?
We did not know, so we reported this stranger to our darling queen.
Our queen was not afraid of anything, we had seen this before.
She summoned him to court, but he disappeared, gone forevermore.
We pondered this stranger with blue eyes the rest of our life.
He was a battle of one, scaring us soundly. We all felt the strife.
He was Celtic, a pagan, a man with battle and death on his mind.
He was horrible, a meanie, nothing like our loving sweet kind.
Some said his name was unmentionable, so they would never tell.
One thing for sure, this curious stranger was straight out of hell.
The story of him grew until it could not be contained, alive in the air.
He killed with his bare hands. His ebony coats were made of a bear.
He was a hermit, a rounder, a sounder, a man to be avoided and feared.
We love the stories of him. They are camp fire songs too, many endeared.
A vacation on an island
Had me all shook up and cryin'
I was supposed to surf on top
Of waves but all I did was plop
On my front side really hard
Leaving it all red and scarred
Now I can't wear my bikini
Waves of terror were a meanie
My nice figure is now covered
As I lay on the beach hovered
By hot sun making me sweat
I can not even get wet
Because I look like an apple slice
Half of me red, the other white
The lion gently lies down upon the grass
With great caution he surveys the vast plains ahead of him
What will he have for his noonday snack?
What will he have for breakfast tomorrow too?
He spots a hyena and a resting zebra
He contemplates the two choices…
"tsk…tsk…tsk…eenie, meanie, miney, moe!"
"Which one should I choose?"
The zebra looks so inviting with his contrasting colors
The hyena looks drab and boring but has a lighter flavor
Licking his chops he slowly gets up to pounce his noonday treat
The lion marches off into the Serengeti plains
He abandons his two choices for lunch and decides to go fishing instead
"Everything has a new perspective immediately after I go swimming"
Boy, this lion sure knows how to clear a pond
Hippos jump up from their muddy happiness
And make way for the edge of the plain
Even the crocodiles clear a path for the King of the Jungle
There he goes again exuding all his strength!
The lion finishes his afternoon swim and goes back to his sovereign spot
There he reminisces and begins pondering again
"Hmmm, what shall I have to eat? "
It’s a Serengeti kind of thing!
He is the King of the Jungle after all!
Written by Gwendolen Rix
11-16-14
Scapes and Tales
Hearts and Fences
Tales of Joe Louie McMar
Book 1 - Canadian Bacon
Of Belle and Beaux
When I See You I Miss You
Marjorie and Isabella
The Jester and DeLilah
Peaches and Cream
The Struggle
Laura Can You Hear Me
Laura
Laura Mean
Canadian Bacon
DeMilah
Stephanie
Blaze Pascal
August
Love is Like a Melody
Cavan Lake, Alberta
L is for Love
Ain’t Life Grand
The Gift
The Ride
Mom
The Folks
The Rock
Blue Eyes
Joe Louie
Book 2 - The Dark Years
Saint Anthony
Thirteen Wasn't Lucky
Don't forget to breathe
The Legend or DeMar
Hunny Do
Hezekiah Munny
The Dream
Diligence
The Smithy
Broken
Death of a Legend
Bless eo Momma
The Rodeo
Cardiac Distress
The Fake Ticket - a sequel
The Halls of Hell
The Girls
The Fake Ticket
I saw Mary
The devil went over
Uncanny
Thoughts
Let It Go
The meaning of demar *
The Dark Years *
The sins of Stephen Duncan *
The Sons of Eeny Meanie*
Issaquena County *
Book 3 - Redemption
Heaven's Hall
The Birthday
Glowing
The Trainman
The Poet
Divided Indeed
Ode to Bob
Prairie Prayer
My Heart is Empty
B.B. On a Mountain Top
P.J. and the Leprechaun
An Erago
Half an Erago *
Fifteen Faces a Sequel *
Sixteen Approaches to Teach *
The meaning of gleaning *
Redemption *
Yesterday, all I wanted was to sing you a song
Is there anything wrong?
Yes, in fact there is
Our relationship biz
Has started to fizz
Could you just let it be?
And release me
So
I can go
To someone else’s show
“Who?” I did ask
Is now wearing your romantic mask?
Someone from the states?
Makes movies that are great
Filled with girls who dance
And prance
Wanting to advance
Heroic leading men
A woman’s honor they defend
She did explain
This downfall due to fame
‘I am now with a King
It could be just a fling,’
“But I want to hold your hand
Biting into my special apple brand”
She went on
About the Yankee Don Juan
Might be running a Hollywood con
‘I will tell you
If you promise not to be a meanie and blue
He busted me out of this jailhouse rock
Seeing me hop in sexy socks
We played blanket bingo on the beach
Before he made his patriotic performing speech’
“Sgt. Pepper,” she said
“Sorry, we are not going to wed’
Thinking back on it now
I remembered how
It all began
She was a fan
Down at the quarry where I was a man
My buddy’s and I sang
She and her friends just hanged
Then in the parking lot
I gave it a shot
Do you love me do?
She thought I was being cool
Having a rubber soul
And on a good roll
Earning gold
Until an image change
Visual not vocal range
I must get back
Recover from this lonely heart social attack
Spread my wings
Do my own thing
“Take that!”
American rat
I am now solo and still a star
Making everyone happy drinking at the bar