Best Mucked Poems
We have taken all anxiety
into our dreams
cruel, unfathomable acts
lodge into our fascia, as pain
Part of a raging beast,
oozing out of control
helpless cells, imbued with a wisdom
overcome by cancerous greed.
We chase frothy bubbles
lose concerns in selfish
pursuits-far be it from us to be
the conduit that delivers peace
Our earth
seen from a moon flight
has a fragile beauty well known to us
Its oceans are blue miracles,
clear water, pure air, be-mucked by enterprise
and murder, murder everywhere.
Cities spread un- checked, razing field and forest
Death hangs over us- the years too brief
Two and fro we leap from history to history
Blood and mayhem and un-numbered griefs.
The world, so full of trouble, as Utopia sleeps
2/09
130 words
Any Free Verse Poem In 200 Words or Less
Contest Judged: 2/15/2017 9:24:00 AM
Sponsored by: Lu Loo
8th Place
Categories:
mucked, earth, philosophy, society, wisdom,
Form:
Free verse
Light me up like a cigarette
You bring up memories I can't forget
I loved you, gave you everything I could
And in the end, you misunderstood
The things I do for you
The things I'd say
Honey I'd gotten so used to living that way
I can't shake you
Like a bad taste in my mouth
You're bad for me boy
This is gonna head south
Your love is a drug
Your mind is a mess
I can't quit you
You're worse than meth
So believe me when I say
That this isnt the end
Because there's no use
In trying to pretend
That you didn't love me
Because you did
Oh please
Who am I trying to kid?
You're no good for me
I'm no good for you
But what else
Are two messed up people to do?
Your love is a drug
Your mind is a mess
I'm more mucked up than you
But I digress
The things you say
Get to me so
Even when you hurt me
I keep coming back for more
I can't help myself
I lose control
When I'm around you
I'm not myself anymore
Your love is a drug
Your mind is a mess
Baby I can't quit you
God, you're worse than death
So believe me when I say
That I don't want this to end
Because you're like
My personal brand of heroin
Believe me when I say
I'm okay
Even though I'm not
Cause when I'm around you
You make my skin burn hot
Your love was a drug
My mind is now a mess
Christ, get out of my life
You’re gonna cause my death.
Categories:
mucked, addiction, anger, betrayal, boyfriend,
Form:
Lyric
Joe The Plumber announced he was runnin' fer Congress the other day!
Congratulations, Joe! You the man! Fer you I shout, "Hooray!"
Tell 'em like it is as you did with Obama - show 'em you won't be outdone!
And, Joe, take yer plumbers' kit - you'll need it to repair the damage done!
Include screwdrivers to tighten the screws on higher taxes and spendin',
And yer biggest wrench to shut off the flow of governmental lendin'!
Take yer solderin' arn so as to solidify warm relationships with yer peers,
And a pipe cutter to cut off zany filibusterin' that is tiresome to yer ears!
You'll need a hundred rolls of duct tape to stem the flow of inane babble,
And gallons of Liquid Plummer to unclog the stalemate of that useless rabble!
A good pipe wrench will come in handy to tighten the discipline in that 'joint',
And a twelve-foot stepladder to rise above that rotten mob to make yer point!
Joe, show 'em what real 'change' is meant to be with a new 'shower' of hope!
Flush political correctness down the john that's gotten us on this slippery slope!
Be sure to take yer roto-rooter and clean the sewer that is Washington, DC!
Use yer most powerful hose to flush the whole mucked-up mess out to sea!
Robert L. Hinshaw,CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
mucked, funny, political,
Form:
Rhyme
The silky searing touch of sappy loving blood is all too much,
Milky stars melting into my murky mind as my body's red mud burns to the touch.
Make my hole riddled skin into astronomy,
Chart something pretty into my mortal flesh that holds too much within to be.
I see stars so let me be them,
Pressure building up into collapse to be the divinity of the friend they saw in him.
Dying, this body knows it to be raspberry meshed true.
Lying, I smile and laugh about the filth fleshed hue.
I wish not to be he who slithers in spite,
I wish not to be he who stares empty at his ceiling fast through the night.
But alas these eyes already a canvass for worlds to build,
Shedding and molding my mucked intent to be suicidally willed.
Alas it at last hurts too much to see,
So rather I pray for you to let me be astronomy.
-end-
Categories:
mucked, depression, good night, i
Form:
Rhyme
The stars and the moon...glowing bright
Poor Santa...had lost his eyesight
Had a bit of bad luck
When he stepped into muck
Before, he took off...at midnight
The outhouse door...swinging ajar
His glasses, left home...on the bar
So, the reindeer won't sleigh
Because, he smells...that way
So Santa, drove home...in his car
Christmas Limerick (new or old) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire
Syllable count (88668) - (88668)
Categories:
mucked, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
Drool the duck got mad at a bull and whacked up a bee
She was so bad she took the cat for a cup of tea
Cat was a mangler
Upcountry wrangler
Peeved the duck with the muck and mucked her up with a pee
DROOL THE DUCK: Limerick: copyright© RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY November 2014
Categories:
mucked, fun, nonsense,
Form:
Limerick
Yepper-doddle, today I’ll use my own noddle.
My prized antique frame sustained a despised bust.
Wanting to show my man the tough dough in my crust,
I found strong glue and told that goo I was nonplussed.
Next, I grabbed frame, soda and sat on my sofa.
Three tries – no prize, so with both eyes quite wide,
I called the glue a boob lube, dumb as a square loop,
and threatened to incise its worthless insides.
I rose, fetched pose and a calming balm libation,
then returned to pestering with less sweltering.
Glue applied, both sides, I made my hands a vice
and, well fries n’ flies, I squeezed degrees of might.
Bullet sweat, my muscles clinched like a barrette,
I pressed longer than tourists eating pullets.
Then when gingerly, tenderly letting go –
glue thoroughly, tauntingly offended me -
son of a bee, ugly as his glue-mom-harlot,
refused to seam my antique frame back to its gleam.
Past bummed, I stood to sweetly summon my husband,
but my feet stuck to carpet, mucked as a tar pit.
CayCay Jennings
October 16, 2018
Categories:
mucked, husband, silly, wife,
Form:
Rhyme
My neighbor Mrs. Spree was on a spending spree
She spent million dollars for a talking tree
The tree was a sludge
It was camouflage
She mucked about in muck absolutely free
My neighbor Mrs. Spree (C) rajat kanti chakrabarty
Categories:
mucked, fun, nonsense,
Form:
Limerick
So when the webbed-tide snares the lunars nether recesses in its glow casting shadows that arise among the craggs wedged beside some cliffs of common confirmed debris of the unnamed fallen heaps of mucked mired forgottned decay of worthless grime not meriting the struggles of a just reclaim promptly caused to fester including the residue of the reprehensibles whose lacking morals that from some particular decedent, intrusive spirit of Ne'ermere that steer souls to the steppes of the moors, where thou commands those hounds that wish to sever your sensitive skins and drain your spirit waters down that moat where your convictions will spark a lifetime of despair, honors the ambling of the blood moon of its wayward course of trailed afflictions that you wished and begged for death's swift visit for the determined inklings inscribed on petals of the columbine and their guarded secrets, steeped in the devil's brew of stirred concoctions meant for the hags of Ne'ermere and the warlocks of destruction and mayhem who pounces playfully on their prey of the misguided who are filled with disillusioned words that are as hollow as you, e'er stretching the imaginative liquified existence exposing a mirage of iniquities galvanizing its hold of treasured happenstance of certainties lost, fulfills a page of the intrepid who is but a shimmer presenting hope a hand of salvation gathered up in a smotherance and they'll all flicker away, anointing souls spared the vacuum of insignificance for doomsday is here bridging the channeled souls in their mortal state of decay of their tenous grasp of withered mass of fiberous veins where remnants of vigourous life succumbs to their true demise of the incredibly hideous and the indescribable now in the passage way between dying and death of their heinous acts of torturous screams bellowing throughout the chamberous pits of the unwanted dead where the lame, mute, and deaf search the living dead for their body parts, of severed limbs, eyes that hang out of the eyesockets, the unjointed tendons that flay about ever so freely, stenched air that festers while not only choking of whatever remians, seemingly an act of deceny, bestowing on the residue of assemblage from the former occupant, might be afforded an instantaneous journey into the sunrise of the...everlacking.
2019 September 18
Categories:
mucked, dark, death,
Form:
Metrical Tale
Now back to the question of being a cowboy. I think I’ll try another way. I’ll
compare the job I do to his. Doesn’t that sound like a laugh? I cook for the family,
hired hands, branding and shipping and various cattle work too. Billy kept the
cattle and horses fed, wells working, ice chopped and tanks full the year round.
I’d doctor when accidents or illnesses occur. Billy was an obstetrician, and
pediatrician too. Delivering or doctoring he’d see them through. A veterinary for
cattle and horses in all but emergency cases. I keep our house and bunkhouse
clean. Billy keeps pens in the barn and sheds clean and full of dry bedding. He
keeps the horse stalls mucked out and clean. And of course there is always the
shop. Now lets see I do minor repairs around the house and yard. Billy’s job
includes, keeping tractors, haying equipment and feeding equipment in perfect
working condition. And the windmills going ’round all year long. I go for groceries
and supplies I need for meals and laundry too. Billy plants and harvests the
groceries. For example prairie hay, alfalfa hay, oats and cane and feeds
nutritional supplies like cake, salt and minerals. Where do I go from here? I
know! I do the washing! Drat, he is always washing something when he does the
mechanic work.
Categories:
mucked, cowboy-western, funny, life, house,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
The long gone peace from my Earth ached to be his -
The black soul to seethe from vampires’ kiss.
Lives mucked,but,yet to build rage!
Almost a closed cage,
In his mind,
Age.
Like a kind-
Narration of Sage,
He reversed diary page!
Today his keen future seemed to cease,
The long gone peace from my Earth ached to be his.......
Categories:
mucked, age, earth, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
I don’t write this for feed back or reaction
as it's not my need too feel satisfaction
I haven't invested nor look to progress
I'm just restless with rhymes ink press
them to an instrumental that's all
not a fool seeking approval to go professional
I don’t see or hear responses
your thoughts are not on my conscience
I dont care if you hate it or like it
it's all cheese to me grated or sliced bits
tastes the same on pizzas after ovens melt it
just a dried up felt tip impolitely
drawing on the wall your boring common ite-ey
the world gave me a crippling anxiety
which has removed me from society
if you want to see me act uncomfortably
all you need is to say a compliment to me
Cus me and you are completely apart
you need them while I stay apart
I'm just messing because technology is at hand
but I'm sure this pastime is hard to understand
I sit at home writing for therapy
spared a want to care what they think of me
Everyday alone blind never lose a blink of sleep
opinions they pin on me stay unseeked
I just ink in my seat to sooth my heartbeat
so you’re a fool if you think it’s done for approval
I ain’t like you I ain’t usual
so to think I want feed back
when I dont need that
if given an elevated social status
I'd evacuate free to a place more spacious
however to the 2 faces who were loyal undoubtedly
but quick to doubt and skip out on me, skidaddle
once a friend revealed as a traitor
see you later mate aint worth hating
I've awakened to truth stated
plus your company's overrated
so don't come with me or after
after friendship breaking cus if I'm not mistaken
you said to everyone I make up stories
the blagger of Bath known for blagging bad on the ordinary
blagging like a bag carries baguettes in France
saying I'm mentally unstable while you compulsively lie
and I've quit chronic while you're still on it daily
5 years ago I quit yet I'm bonkers well maybe
yet plonkers believe how you describe me so clearly
I'll never forgive you for saying I make things up
we were like family and you totally mucked it up
Categories:
mucked, friendship, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Proceeding further voids the non-existent warranty on your sanity remaining intact afterwards.
I feel like a shred of confetti
Anchored by cotton knotted
To a strong, steel chain
Fused with a great grain of pain
Cast in a vast castles grave
Of felled shells, long dead
Whose bones become my bed.
I really, really must confess
I use better bones for my bread
I really must confess
That bread is not the best.
I really feel like screaming
As my clenched cheeks cling
To a complicated thing
Effervescing
From my minds twisted guts
Into incontinent pants
I imagine I’m wearing.
I really, really must confess
My mind's become one mucked-up mess!
I really must confess
This mess does not smell the best.
I don’t sleep in sand beds
Or soil shorts made of thoughts
But my baking is to die for
So sign here before you taste
These sweet and sour soul cakes
Whose recipe of joy and dread
Imparts more bang than bone bread!
I really, really must confess
I love my minds mad caress
I really must confess
Its caress feels senseless.
If symptoms persist, please consult the appropriate health care provider.
Categories:
mucked, crazy, dark, gothic, horror,
Form:
Lyric
I am a treasure
that has no measure
i am bought with a price
therefore no man can trouble
me
i am a pillar
that needs no filler
i am a battle axe
not an axe for battle
those who mock me
wil ask to have my field
mucked
i am bound for the top
not to watch events unfolding
at the top
the nature of man is to pull
me down
but my God has lifted me
i am chosen
not a cast away
God will make me a terror
not to be in horror
in the kingdom of darkness
i shall be a light
to illuminate the dark tunnels
of life
i am a royal priesthood
who will dine with kings
though the devil wisely
foolishly thinks he has won
i know he is a bad loser
the obstacles he has planted
before me
are meant to lead to my lifting
up
when people see me
they will appreciate the glory
of God over my life
the almighty has placed me
above my enemies
i shall not be moved
every hold of sin over my life
that the devil uses as leverage
over my life
has taken away with his
precious blood
God has singled me out
to liberate people from sin
and to be a tormentor and a
terror to the kingdom of
darkness
i am a winner
not a loser
the enemies almost conquered
but the lord was there to pull
me out of the ditch that has
been set for me
the lord is my refuge and my
strength
i am saved
by the saviour himself
Categories:
mucked, change
Form:
Bio
This is written to the rhythm of the Ballad of the Green Beret
By Staff Sergeant Barry Sadler
And
Robin Moore
***
Let us roam
upon the seas
we dont want
to make history
we're fighting for
the land we love
so let us sail
though we may die
We don't care
what you've been told
democrats
have sold their souls
spreading lies
across this land
all for the sake
of their mucked up plans
There ain't no man
that wants to die
but we'll stand
by America's side
make a stand for liberty
though we may die
on foreign seas
There's no way
you'll understand
cause you ain't seen
what we have seen
atrocities
that make a hard man cry
break his heart
but not his soul
So let us sail
let freedom ring
wish us luck
or wish us death
we're fighting for
the one's we love
we'll give our lives
so they'll be free
Categories:
mucked, death, freedom, military, parody,
Form:
Lyric