Best Off The Hook Poems
She had so many chances
Yet she kept muffin it up
Butter intentions were good
Just not much coffee in her cup
Couldn’t make a good decision
Too much waffling back and forth
Always peppered with doubt
Should she head south, no maybe north
Still, she was fun at a party
I would say, hummus a tune
She’d say, "Icing because I’m happy"
As the words began to croon
Maybe that’s what’s most important
Omelet let her off the hook
So she’s always in a pickle
Doesn’t do things by the book
Once again, I’m gonna help her
Since she is such a good egg
I said, girl, you’d go much farther
If you weren’t such a nut Meg
Beard looks weird,
that's a lyrical genius to be feared,
you wrote a 6 year song and got the facts wrong,
fired with the hair and safety still on,
I guess that scope's just a tele,
with sights and hopes on the tele,
Machine Bun Shelly,
initials, MBS, Caps empty,
Mostly Bull Sh……
a superficial sipping soup to his belly
or is it breakfast for a serial prodigy,
steadfast out selling cereal probably,
problems with his intellectual property
so he's just a prop to stop and see.
6'4 and standing taller,
picking on a man, his wife and his daughter,
who needs protection ay,
you're a big and bad ball-less brawler,
that's the shallowest level you can resort to,
and though it's none of my bees wax,
you did it to be witnessed and receive plaques,
but it was easy and witless like corny flakes,
the business doesn't need Autotune fakes,
forcing the rhyme like all you want is a smoke,
not literally you'd choke, that's such a weak joke,
clearly begging for your songs to be bought up,
as if we went from Shady please stand up,
to worshipping a hairband on a no flair brand corrupt
and yeah I admit some of it was good, generous, but look,
with 6 years to write it should have been off the hook,
this lame ass your best and you took as long as you could,
when your next hits out you'll remember when you last stood,
and you'll be mocked by the only line that was any good,
MGK can't stand up,
that'll get you like Cranbrook,
from Cleveland Ohio,
leave now and fly home.
Note the depth and the many double entendre in this,
written within an hour of hearing that diss,
MGK's peak, now for the diss-appearance,
I've heard you can't write your own lyrical sentence,
that's dense, how you ever gona go the distance,
now go into the distance with your spoon and bowl,
you had your 15 minutes so back to your hole.
Part 2: Picking the rhymes apart and taking a shot, on my page to read now.
* the second line is a double entendre,
a serious comment about Eminem and a sarcastic one about MGK, you know, cus rhyming beard and weird is amazing haa.
* Hair and safety clip on
* Just a tele, a telescope
* Initials - cus MGK initials but Eminem doesn't M&M
Have you seen a better fool like me?
A dimwitted dreary buffoon like me?
Buffoonery has its limits, ridiculous,
But for me it's monotonous.
I never change,
I'm always the same, It's such a shallow shame!
Yes, I am the one to blame.
I see politeness wearing
A fancy pair of friendship earrings.
Who does that? An acrobat, a bubbly brat!
Who thinks that a polite chat
Is a friendship, this and that.
Then when people change
And they cut me out of their range,
I feel sadly strange.
When am I going to learn
And stop feeling the burn,
Stop making politeness turn
Into a glib friendship that's not even worth an earn.
Buffoon's bubbly balloon
Should be popped,
Buffoon should be stopped.
I am an open book,
Oops, a buffoon brook,
It's time for a new look,
And get myself off the hook.
$hawty Got $wag
Shawty got swag,
Shawty mad dope.
Face all cheesin’,
She real turned up.
Goin’ to da club,
She steppin' wit her peeps,
Lookin’ so ratchet,
She’s straight up hoochie.
No racks in her pocket,
No stacks in her wallet,
But she all into bubbly
Slurpin’ and burpin’.
Lookin for a big baller,
Who’ll give her wat she wants,
Wildin’ on the dance floor,
Tweakin’ an’ freakin’,
Shawty actin' so cra cra!
She just like da rest a dem,
But Shawty real fly,
Sure likes a lotta ice,
Bling bling, and Benjamins.
Shawty creepin’ to hook up
Coz she needs a boo wit finesse,
Who’ll give her Yves St. Laurent,
5-star hotels, and 5-star restaurants.
Shawty off the chain,
Shawty off the hook,
She got game and she’s aight!
Shawty da bomb - fuh real!!!
08-18-2014
Contest: Ebonics – Let’s Do Some Slang
Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker
Placement: 1st
Some Terms and Definitions:
shawty – a young attractive female; dope – cool, nice, awesome; swag – style;
turn up – excited; mad – really a lot; peeps – friends, close pals; baller – a
thug that made it in the big time; racks/stacks– lots of money; aight – alright;
wildin’– to go crazy, acting out of control; cra cra – crazy; tweakin’/freakin’ –
dancing provocatively and moving around out of control; cheesin’ – smiling;
finesse – man who has swag and can spend a huge amount of money; ratchet
– ghetto diva; creepin’ – sneaking about; bubbly – champagne; bling bling –
expensive flashy jewelry; Benjamins – hundred dollar bills; boo – one’s lover;
da bomb – the best of the best; game – skills; ice – expensive flashy jewelry
usually diamonds or jewelry with diamonds; off the chain/off the hook –
excellent, fantastic, awesome; fly – cool, in style; hook up – getting together
with someone romantically; hoochie – a female who dresses trashy; straight up
– absolutely, really.
I hate it that you don't like what I write
You'd think at least one time I'd get it right
I get first place with others, never you
Won't join another one, that's what I will do
Consistently put down, oh what a drain!
I find your selectivity a pain!
Most others think my writes are pretty cool
But when I write for you, I'm just a fool
Well, here's to let you know that I am done
Cause entering your contests sure ain't fun
I squeeze my brain in hopes to win your smile
But I get tossed right out on rubbish pile
I'll gloat and savor every winning place
From one to three are ones that light my face
From 4 on down, you freaking kidding me????
Dear contest sponsor, you are HISTORY!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear contest sponsor, you are HISTORY!
I bet you wonder at this mystery
You think you've judged me fair, and that's my place
I'm glad that you can't see my "murder" face!
I'll let you off the hook; here's one more chance
The genre I like the most is sweet romance
So, let me gush and flow and write a storm
You know my write will be above the norm!
If my write doesn't place in 1, 2, 3....
I'll tell you, sponsor dear, you've messed with me
In cyber world, I have my goons who check
They'll find your place and then, Oh...what the heck!
You'll get a pounding that you won't forget
You'll get your own N/A and that's a bet!
It stands for Nuked/Alright, and you'll be fried
So give me that first place, or run and hide!!!!!
For Famous Last Line Contest
March 11, 2016
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Original poem title: Confounded Contest
For Jerry's Contest Contest!
January 5, 2015
Back in those heavy times when everything was so far out
Our words were but a whisper, the mans were but a shout
Flower power was spreading, and everything was out of sight
Preaching peace through out the days, and gettin our groove on into the night
But we were always gettin hassled, by the fuzz, the man, the pigs
They didn't want us smokin doobies, and flashin peace signs, can ya dig?
Then peace and love had flourished, we needed to get funky and do our thing
We needed a place to get our groove on, so the discos were the scene
The threads we wore back then were styling, some were off the hook!
It's hard to believe with the slim bread we made, we could carry that funky look?
Bellbottoms, platform shoes, and jump suits people were a cravin
Boogieing away the nights in the discos, where the lights were just a blazin
Then the foxy chicks started getting pregoed, and the discos no longer Dyno-mite!
Men needed to start makin more bread, and trying to live the family life
But gigs weren't easy to find, and life became somewhat of a drag
Some of the dudes skipped town, leaving the foxy mamas holding the bag
Well thats the skinny of the seventies, the lowdown of peoples ways
So keep on truckin all you cool cats and foxy mamas
And remember all those ~Freaky, ~Far Out, ~Out Of Sight days
Dan Kearley:1-21-12
Galactic flashes pulse rainbow bold
bright neon waves flow into black holes.
Shooting stars ricochet through night skies
rings of Saturn cut loose and rise.
Drifting Sun sidesteps off center stage
Mercury blazes white hot, then fades.
Fat old Neptune looks bored and pouts
poor little Pluto wanders in and out.
Venus fusses, preoccupied with her looks
Mars tries too hard, Earth gets him off the hook.
Jupiter two steps, Uranus tries to prance
at the first ever annual Galaxy Dance.
Written on 8/25/2016
Deep into my sleep
And completely unsuspecting
My alien abduction
Would be truly frightening
My cold chills were real
Giant black eyes watching me
I'm paralyzed by electrodes
And the lack of empathy
I'll be okay, I'll be okay
I'm repeating to myself
Feeling dreadful vertigo
As if the ground begins to tilt
Lying in a slender cot
Two young children at my side
I worry they will fall
So I cling to them so tight
I've seen too many movies
Perhaps read too many books
Sometimes my fertile imagination
Will not let me off the hook
But wouldn't it be strange
If somewhere in the stars
I have two hybrid daughters
Wondering why daddy is so far?
I have a secret, I cannot let you know.
I’m sorry I lied; I DON’T want you to go.
Those cruel words, were not how I feel,
just a defense, to forget what was real.
Portraying I’m strong, with a will to thrive,
yet without you I’m lost, I don’t feel alive.
Words hurt worse, than punches thrown.
I’m out of control, in this viscous cyclone.
So many times, you let me off the hook,
for my malicious outbursts and nasty looks.
I’ve used my disease as an excuse to abuse.
Flying amidst this mania, recourse I refuse.
The patience you bear, is reflective enough,
as is your wisdom, still my heart is so rough.
I want to open up and bear my entire soul,
I’m afraid all you’ll see is a shallow, empty hole.
I know it was never you that gave up on us,
it was this woman you married, me in disgust.
If I could repair my mind and fix the wrongs,
I’d say you’re at home, where you belong.
But we both know the truth, I’m a lost cause.
I prey on your weaknesses and all your flaws.
I’ll take full responsibility for all that I am…….
And remember our love, was my biggest sham….
My imagination can run wild, from fairy tales to lions that don't smile. Can you imagine being in a fairy tale, where all the knights in armor were for sale. Can you imagine in my dreams the lions don't smile, the lions all got eaten by the crocodiles. Can you imagine by day-night or a book, my imagination is always working and never off the hook.
Date Written: 1/24/2021
4 Place Can You Imagine - Any form Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Contest Judged:1/27/2021
*written for Verlena's Contest "EBONICS, Let's Do Some Slang"
SHAWTY,
Yir' boy fin' ta' told ya' bout some lessons in what the Man call Ebonics.
Cus' I gots' this!
Like the young fellow named Carmello on the New York Knicks,
and girrrrrl I got mo' slang in my verse than the words of them nerds
down at Hooked On Phon-ics
I TRIED TA' TOLD YA"LL...
I keeps my flows tight,
Fam ,
cus word is bond like James
and I ain't talkin' Rick James, RIIIGHT!
Ya' see, round cheer,
between Normandy and Western,
what we call this is a little "Twennie Twin Twin"
but round the way,
where you stay,
they just may call this a "Sinny Sin Sin!"
Yo, hold up baby girl...
Lemme ax you suh-um...
Who you be with?
cus Shawty, how you look,
is off the hook,
and Boo-Boo you is suh-um I can see me with with!
Yo Yo Yo! Wait! Hold up girrrl! Where you goin'?
'Sup honey child,
You know my favorite basketball player used to be Yao Ming!
Ya-Mean?
Get it Yao Ming?
Yaa-Mean!?!-----(crickets chirp-ing fir' certain)
Lady Queen, come on back to me!
Yo, my jokes may be stupid, but they clean,
B'sides, I coulda' been' said something idiotic like Idi Amin,
Yaa-Mean?
And the homey don't even play no basketball, ya dig?
Yes YESHall! ...
Better put that ON SOMETHIN'!
And you KNOW THIS!----(awww heck naw, Shawty dipped...)
Pigtails, cowboy belts and new summer jeans.
A long ride to the lake. I can't wait to get fishin'!
I have to take Sis? Mooom . . . how mean!
Hurry up little sister, there's no time to lose.
Cut a new pole, dig a can of worms,
Run out on the dock and find your own place.
Pleading, with nose twisted,
A worm gingerly pinched between two fingers,
I finally agree to bait my pathetic sister's hook.
The day wears on and on, hot and quiet.
Shh, Sis, or you'll scare 'em away.
No, Sis, we can't go back, we haven't caught a fish yet.
Little sister just doesn't understand the fine art of fishing.
I said a little longer.
"But I'm hungry."
Just a little bit longer.
"But I have to gooo . . ."
Sis, please, it won't be long . . .
YES! . . . I caught one. Now you see!
Angry and tired and not impressed with my catch, she pulled in her worm,
And with a quick flick of the wrist, off the hook she did pluck it.
With hands on her hips, looking me square in the eye she declared,
Anyone, who would sit out here all day for that, is dumb enough to fish in a bucket!
When I was a child I waited for Your call
How could You do this to me
We stood by the phone but You were busy
How could I have thought You heard
The youngness wasn't enough
You were too disconnected to answer
Unaware we dialed You again and again
The others waited too and starved
I believed in Your love
The Omnipotence fragmented
For you Brother
The signal was one ring and I should ring back
But the Power said disconnected
I tried You again but the voice said no
The number you have reached is not in service
So I checked the number and again it said clear
Those tears turned into a river and we saw You sail by
You were needed at the church and the glory
Two children stayed and together was no matter
Dancing we made new games and prayer
Oh Dio
Am older now and the prayer
My brother is gone cause he took a cab
Their was no fare
He doesn't wait now but I still
I hear him in the night
I see him in strangers and glances
Begging You I wait as before
The toys help with those moments and dialing
Your phone rings off the hook
God help us all
Decided to write about the ills of the world.
Perhaps I'd need a bigger forum
for such a vast undertaking.
Now let me see, where should I start,
with the Neanderthals?
Well, methinks nothing much has changed
since we became “civilized”.
Wow! That was quite a stretch,
The word civilized is open to interpretation.
In my wee brain, it means
acting in a civilized manner towards
our fellow *****sapiens.
Listening to the six o'clock news any day
and you'd be hard pressed to find
any examples of civilized behaviour.
Is it just the mood I'm in today?
NO! It's been like this since the dawn of time.
I absolutely DO NOT UNDERSTAND!!!
Can we justify it by saying.
“It's who we are... a combative species?”
There, that let's us off the hook.
With today's modern technology
methinks it will only get worse.
We will all become detached from our feelings,
robotic like the mechanical creatures
that will some day be the rue of mankind.
I don't want to be around to see it!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Goodness gracious me,
How can it be,
The ant leader
Posted that by decree,
I was a traitor,
And he
Would pass punishment
I could foresee
What was in store
Had to sit and steady my
Nerves with beer shandy.
It was a very hot day,
Thirty-eight degrees centigrade,
We were not by the sea,
But it was easy you see,
To keep cool
By the pool
Sitting on a high stool
With a beer shandy
In my hand,
Listening to the hotel’s
Resident band!
My phone rang,
It was my friend from Greece,
She was sending me a
Winter jacket made
Out of sheep fleece,
Oh don’t tease
Me please.
We talked for just
Under an hour
Said goodbye,
Went back to my beer shandy,
Life was just dandy.
But oh deary me the ants
Wanted to avenge
And take revenge
On me, as I picked up my
Glass of beer shandy,
Something seemed odd
I took a gulp from my glass,
And involuntarily forced
To expel the contents
From my mouth,
Hundreds of ants were floating
Dying, peeing, spitting
It was most distressing,
In my drink, I felt faint,
But practiced restraint,
Didn’t want the ants to
Know that I was dizzy
Even my hair was standing
On end and became frizzy
These industrious ants
Had set a trap
Determined to get back
At me for telling humans
About their plot to rule
Planet Earth, their leader Raoul
At the ready, creeping
And crawling
And nipping
Away at my flesh.
Doom spray I screamed
Please spray them all
Let them all die and fall,
I had to tell of their plan,
The world had to be prepared,
And their secret shared,
They began scurrying
And fleeing
From the spray, but muttering
Their real revenge was close,
They would be huge, and chew
Us up and spit us out, use
Us for fertilizing their gardens
And as for me,
I would be spat out constantly
And would regenerate daily,
So I was doomed,
They promised to keep
A wary eye on me,
Oh well perhaps I could emigrate
But they had this in mind,
Devious little monsters,
They would then immigrate
And join with other ants
From around the globe.
I would never be
Off the hook
For them I was a real
Baddie, a criminal, traitor
And crook,
Determined to expose
Theirs superpowers
To this planet,
And perhaps many others.