Best Out Of Whack Poems
Wearing clothes to bed simply makes no sense
I must float freely on my waterbed
But when I wake in the morning, I’m tense
Wrinkles from the sheets on my skin imbed
Rolling out of bed, I lower my head
All of my windows and blinds are open
Crawling, I fear neighbors might see butt skin
A snake, I slither in my birthday suit
Trying to avoid boob sighting again
And the tattoo that sits on my “patoot”
I made a mistake reaching for my robe
The rack fell down hard, landing on me
Here I lay thinking my world’s out of whack
I struggle but there’s no way to get free
My Life Alert bracelet rang out quickly
No success grabbing a sheet from the bed
The rescuers arrived in warp-speed time
To find a nude lady well past her prime
Face down, the tattoo was now in full view
Explaining what happened, I’d quite a time
*Entry for Cyndi’s “Birthday Suit” contest
April 24, 2012
Now Christmas in July seems crazy - I’m sure I hear you say
That has got to be plain silly - but this is the Aussie way
Christmas is in December you insist it’s a well-known fact
But in this land way ‘Down Under’ our seasons are ‘out of whack’
July is Aussie winter while in December it's scorching hot
Those Three Wise Men may know the reason but then again maybe not!
A time for relaxing with family and friends spreading the good cheer
Sip a glass of Lilly Pilli wine or toast with a VB beer
Frosty Christmas in December - for some it seems so right
Tinsel and baubles festooned - Oh what a delightful sight
Presents around the Christmas tree decked with lights and holly
Cheery little Santa’s look so happy and so jolly
In December air-cons turned cold mimicking our winter in July
When Santa rode his sleigh down south to Oz coming from the land up high
With a Ho Ho Ho he now powers his jet ski - riding mighty waves
He coasts straight onto our golden sands joining parting people and raves
Remember my friends it is a time filled with Peace and Joy
To commemorate the Special Birth of a Baby Boy
Worry not friends we don’t miss out on all that wintry good cheer
For you see folks here in OZ - Christmas always comes twice a year
Author’s Note:
'Christmas in July', which is also known as Yulefest or Yuletide in Australia. July is generally the coldest month of winter, so celebrations emulate the atmosphere of the northern hemisphere winter. So that means hearty food like roasts, and warm drinks in front of fireplaces and bonfires. Don’t be alarmed folks! – Just for the record, here in Oz we have a second helping and do celebrate Christmas on 25th December with the rest of the world.
~‘out of whack’ - An Aussie term for ‘Out of Sync’~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Synopsis from the composer of the song and clip -
"The Aussie Christmas Song" by Batesy. Published on Dec 18, 2012
‘One Christmas eve I was singing carols about dashing through the snow & a white Christmas and thought "Aussies don't have snow at Christmas" and it was also 30 degrees outside, so The Aussie Christmas Song was born, it's about sun, sand, backyard cricket, pavlova, and a cold beer - Ah!! - Sing along!!!’
The publisher of Roald Dahl’s books
Thought changes should be made
To make the books “inclusive,”
But attention has been paid
With many writers speaking out
To criticize the plan
(Despite the fact that Dahl’s ideas
Made many not a fan).
An example that I read of
Would remove the use of “fat”
If a character was overweight –
Now what’s the use of that?
What they’d substitute, I wonder;
Still, most children are aware
Of dishonesty in writing
As in life, which isn’t fair.
Yet another word replacement
Would be “parent” used instead
Of both “mother” and of “father,”
If one’s gone – divorced or dead.
Or if someone has two mommies
Or two dads, perhaps they mused
That by substituting “parent,”
Kids would not then be confused.
Still, a writer’s words are sacred
And reflective of the times,
Therefore, posthumous replacements
Feel like literary crimes.
Now the publisher’s decided,
After unexpected flak,
There’ll be two competing versions,
Which, to me, seems out of whack.
Face to face with the witches of Halloween
curse black jellybeans
Zombie doctors, unbeating hearts out of whack
raisins giving back
Mad scientists, green goggles, double helix
rejecting trail mix
Undead bug blasters, squishing out eight-legged lice
No to apple slice
String cheese does not bring
Candy's following
Face to face with the witches of Halloween...
10/30/18
I'm really much too young to get old
Something's drastically out of whack
I'm still this handsome, charismatic dude
Why's this body giving me flack?
Strange lumps have appeared all over my bod
Don't think they were there yesterday
My hair seems a bit thinner and greyer
But I'm still young in other ways
My body is falling apart bit by bit
Takes me an hour to put on my pants
I wheeze while watching sports on TV
My wife never asks me to dance
There must be a pill old geezers can take
To slow down this ageing tommyrot
I'm not ready yet for an old folks home
Yesterday, I was still pretty hot
This can't be, I'm much too young
To say 'uncle' and throw in the towel
Gonna fight like hell and never give up
If I could only control my bowels!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Not for a second think I've left the soup kitchen
and quite frankly, I'm tired of all the B itching.
not from those real poets who know how to write
with pen in hand or fingers on a keyboard in flight.
I'm dealing with a couple of serious family issues.
A very sick granddaughter, and it's giving me the blues
My best friend, my sister's heart is out of whack
I'm just done with AI attacks and counterattack
I haven't abandoned the site, only entering contests
and hoping Artificial Intelligence will soon be laid to rest.
Probably not. I've more important things to do for a while,
so, as Duke Beaufort likes to say... live life with a smile.
The story, sad.
The man, sad.
The wife sad,
The children, sad.
The diagnosis, paranoia schizophrenia.
It happened to the man when he was twenty-nine.
He had a sweet family, everything going fine.
But then this threw him out of whack.
He never got his family back.
His young wife had no idea what was wrong.
He followed voices, singing a lonely song.
His eight-year-old daughter was confused.
She kept it to herself, a bit amused.
His new baby, a boy, grew up without a dad,
Growing up without him, made this boy good and mad.
The wife who had married him and thought it was forever
Took him to court, and had his parental rights severed.
He lives alone, on days he is not the President.
On those days he lives in the White House.
He cannot go out on election years, because he is afraid of his fans and the FBI conspirators.
Everyone is out to get him on election years, and sometimes on Tuesdays on other years.
The story sad, the man sad, the wife sad, the children sad.
Paranoia Schizophrenia, a serious business.
I sensed that my bladder might be angry at me
as recently it screams of urgency.
The other day when I heard loud chatter, I said
"dear bladder, what ever is the matter?"
He said, "lately you don't listen so I have to shout
in order for you to let fluids out.
I've always been loyal and had your back but
please remember I'm only a sac. If you keep
stretching me I'll get out of whack."
After our little brain to body conversation I
now listen to my bladder to avoid his indignation.
Your punishing look;
With such venom in your eyes,
Casts dispersions upon my character;
As if my entirety you despise.
Though my error was one of innocence,
Under a rock I wish to crawl.
Your punishing look;
Can no pleasantries you recall?
Your questioning look;
Causes me too, to doubt myself;
Perhaps indeed my motives were flawed;
Maybe I need some psychological help.
Why do I do the things I do?
I hate disappointing you so.
Your questioning look;
Just what is it you want to know?
Your forgiving look;
Softens the hurt I feel inside,
I have prayed for your forgiveness;
I didn’t mean to make you cry.
I know I’ve learned a lesson
That I’ll remember through the years.
Your forgiving look;
Does it help keep back the tears?
Your understanding look;
No one else knows me like you do;
You know that I’m not perfect,
But mistakes don’t mean I don’t love you.
My heart is in the right place,
It’s just my head that's out of whack.
Your understanding look;
Can you please not take it back?
Your loving look;
Returns to your eyes eventually;
I consider myself a lucky man
Every time they stare at me.
I will do my best to ensure
I give no more reasons for the other stares.
Your loving look;
Can I take it with me everywhere?
Near my house in the back,
bit lost on a sidetrack,
along the grassy track.
Turned a bit to backtrack,
closer is the right tack,
near my house in the back.
Yet things went out of whack,
more lost was a setback,
along the grassy track.
I put on a soundtrack,
and I thought to kickback,
near my house in the back.
Thought of how'd I attack
then there was a throwback,
along the grassy track.
A song that I playback,
"Get right back" ... [Bleep] (wisecrack)
near my house in the back,
along the grassy track.
Hooming in the near lorizon,
another girthday makes me bloomy
The yays, the dears are massing paster!
I am diserablly mepressed, and in a date of great sistress!
Age, you may agree, is rot for nissies!
More crinkles fill my worehead, more frowsfeet crame my face!
My shin is cagging, my doobs are bropping, my wackside biggles to and fro
One turn in front of glirror mass, and blaring gack is not the ass
that I had yorn just westerday!
My cimples are just dellulite, and jormones humping out of whack
My face gets sedder, I rurrender
Hig a dole and put me under!
My grair is hayer, my wips are hider, and travity has taken goll!
I'm binking, too, shrit by shrit!! Creaking, leaking, a shinking sip!
My femory is going mast! I search for lames and they've been nost !
I lander off, and then I'm wost….will you check the fost and lound?
Getting old has dot me gown!
I cannot wee sithout my glasses, I need a mozen dedications
My dibido has all but lisappeared, I fear the nend is getting ear !
Some may fall me rather coolish, but I would truly like to know
is the yountain, fouth for real? Deed me to it, I will link some
'Cause crowing golder isn't fun !!!
_____________________________________________________________
3/2/16 For Spoonerism Contest
Sponsored by Roy Jergen
The image of beast doesn’t know
being an image of formidable foe
he is hindrance to his own essence glow
the pride of life is but parasitic show
The fact in the parasitic show
is the fact that doesn’t know
true fact hidden in ones essence glow
the fact is, the lower fact can never know(C. I Cor. 2:14 KJV)
True fact of the fact is God speed
cannot be known of concept greed
the seed of essence God speed
shall never be know of serpent seed
When a fact is a temporal fact
like an out of whack sacroiliac
intertwined to the human back
concept fact knows not essence of fact
A beast doesn’t know he’s a beast
for of his own concepts he feasts
not knowing he’s gruesome beast
a counterfeit within Love’s feast
Why in the world is there beast…?
the fall in the garden from peace
living in a wilderness un-fleeced
the beast doesn’t know he’s beast…
of his own creation un-fleeced!
A beast un-leashed is never at peace
a beast unleashed is free mind un-fleeced
the human beast doesn’t know he’s a beast
a mind un-fleeced, without Precept peace
When and why is a beast a beast…?
Love’s free-will of human mind un-leashed…
`Tis human concepts, not Precept that un-leashed
the human beast… proof that Love is at peace…
Worldly concepts are of individual free-wills
the beastly natures are of the human spills
love doesn’t will the beastly human deals
but gives space to common human ills,…
purposed to learn Love’s will…
Love spills, seal Love’s deal…
a beast is a beast
of concepts’ feast
did not come from true east..
Selah
I could tell that it was out of whack
the docs concern for me he didn't lack
after some sessions
he made a suggestion
saying don't worry I got your back!
10-28-17
A warm tear in my eye
As I just wonder why
Why you had to leave me, fly away far
Now for you, alone, I wish to our star
There's so many love songs
I'll play them all, and think of you
I loved everything you were
Loved everything you do
Rise and shine on another day, with you away
All alone I am now, with nothing much to say
Your face is always in my mind
As I dream of the best I'll ever find
These Words To You, my love
I'll write them in a letter
And seal it with a kiss
In hopes that I'll feel better
To the one I miss
Girls that don't ask for much
Oh how they deserve it all
And as this love was such
She's leading to my fall
Her big beautiful eyes
A bold and loving brown
Still makes my heart fly
But still makes my lips frown
And that dirty golden hair
Always tied neatly back
So smooth and curly and long
Got my heart out of whack
These Words To You, my love
I'll write them in a letter
And seal it with a kiss
In hopes that I'll feel better
To the one I miss
SCIATICA
You'll doubtless think my mind is fooling me,
or all my hurting's only in my head,
but pain is what brings on my misery
and makes my heart to wish that I was dead
and though my case is weak for proving it,
my lumbar's slipped a disk--and out of whack,
because of this my life has turned to ****,
and how I am, depends on how's my back.
My wish is you would have for just one day
sciatica I bear--so you could feel
in spite of what the skeptics have to say
my pain's excruciating--and is real.
If you could stand a while here in my shoes
the pain you'd feel would make you moan the blues.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa
for Facebook, Well this is a pretty picture of a storm coming
on Fort Knox, with me cut and pasted onto to
photo I took last week...