Best Pez Poems
"I dream of Candy!"
Sweet cakes and peanut butter squares
A living diabetic's nightmare. -- My heart
sings to the beat, Under the Neutron Star Crunch
Sweet sugar cookies and peanut butter bars
Taunting whoopers,
Dancing dum dum's,
The sweetest silhouette show - in my room
Dreamy, Creamy Cupcakes in the afternoon
Cinnamon Cheerios cascade on my spoon
Sweeter than my sweet tooth
Now and later - a forever honeymoon
Jigglin' my jelly belly boo berry Butterfinger delight
I'm in love, licking the icy ICEE all night long
Extra freshness, once I crop a top off of a mountain dew pop
My eyes sparkle like diamond dazzle razzles in the sky
I LIVE to fabricate my very own sugar extract R.E.M. Sleep
Savoring the sound of saliva trapped in my mouth
THIS night - ovulated buds - wait to feast!
Enjoying delicious dulce music sleepy symphony
Braggin' and embracin' a pinata pillow escapade
Enchanted by a cotton candy crave - calling my name
Lalaloopsy licorice and lemonade tea
The best-wet dream I've ever seen
Marshmallows of solitude dulcify every fresh fantasy
Enticing in a bright slushy skittles daydream freeze
One fat sunny bowl of cereals and cane
Crackerjack spell --- chocolate chip swirls,
Caramel lumps constipate the brain
Sizing - peanuts and in a popcorn party payday
Wrigley's wild winter Spearmint Breath parade
Give me, give me, some Gummy bear Dessert
---------"Another Fruit Ninja hair DAY!"
Watermelon Taffy stuck on the top of my gums
Swallowing the whiteness in a whistle pop bar
I FELL LIKE A SWEET SUGAR STAR!!!
Glaze of glory erupts deep down my throat 24/7
Bubblicious, mint twist, Sunkist the best Twizzler breakfast
Yummy in my twinkie tummy, drooling over frosted flakes
One more strawberry smoothie 44 oz cup
Counting each and every Pez popping'' up
Goodnight light,
It's time to get lost under the midnight moon pie sky
SELF- Huggin'' and snugglin'' to a new sugar rush high
:-D
The last Night of October
It's that time, again, the last night of October,
the last glow of twilight nearly gone.
Children race out and about,
winding through the streets and alleys.
Brightly colored costumes,
mom's old wig, dad's old sport coat.
All hoping to fill their bags with the prize:
Candy bars, bag of licorice, candy corn, pop corn balls,
apples, Bit-O-Honey, and Pez dispensed joy.
Some, their favorites, to greedily keep their own,
others to give to a poor sibling, who stayed home with the mumps.
With faces painted, steel themselves, for the gauntlet ahead,
the familiar street now somehow strange in the gloom,
to walk past hallowed ground,
All was quiet, save for the rustling of the leaves.
The daylight gone, now cloaked in Stygian darkness..,
ahead lie, the old grave yard.
Raucous laughter, which echoed only moments before,
trailed off into whispered murmurs.
All eyes from the once merry band looked now,
to their leader, albeit quickly chosen,
the tallest, and oldest, and bravest.
He too, resolve waning, felt the grip of those things unknown,
in the shadowy mist,
heart now beating faster, he chides the little ones,
for being such silly ninnies.
Just now, what was that! What was that sound?!?
Was that an owl? Or, maybe Old Man Godfrey, come back from his
now disturbed rest!
Young sister's hands clasped brother's, tightly,
and brother's, impishly taking the clammy worts,
decidedly grew, just a bit older, wiser,
and braver in kind.
Now turning the corner at Elm street, they walked at even pace.
With heads bowed low, mid-block, each chanced a glance, only to look away,
from the wrought iron gate.
Young heads, did now envision mystic spectres, ghouls and fantastic phantoms, with jaws agape, smiling in toothy cheer, bony fingered hands reaching through the heavy bars.
Swallowing dryly, daring just one quick glance back,
at the narrow lane winding, into the stone covered grounds,
dotted with ivy covered trees of willow and oak.
Back into the world of the living, back to
All Hallow's Eve.
-Happy Halloween
Summer lay lazily over the land.
The languid weight of wind and water
bowing tree limbs, chasing sand
squalls over sidewalks.
Cyclist meander down aisles
of Rose of Sharon shrubbery past
banks of day lilies and Pez-purple
hydrangeas.
Tourist, colorful as the flowers,
buzz through seaside shops in flip flops
the color of Necco wafers.
Their gummy soles making sucking
sounds upon the linoleum.
In gingerbread slumber like fairy-tale children,
they gather in pink, lime-green, and purple houses.
The poor of a Christian God have become
the rich of a capitalist nation.
They hoard their paper-lantern dream.
Where are my old white corsets
Right next to your candy cigarettes
Hey! We didn't get today's edition of 'Grit'
It's canceled. They use bad words now like 'Guck' and 'Spit'
Oh, and I can't seem to find my orange Pez dispenser
I threw it out. They've proved that Pez causes cancer
By the way, have you seen the Sunday funnies
They're a no-go, ever since they canceled 'Pogo'
You know I've got two tickets for the Brooklyn Dodgers
Ha, ha, ha! Even Sandy Koufax is just an old codger
Then I'm going cruising in my new Studebaker
--with that benchwarmer from the Minneapolis Lakers?
Before I forget, don't throw away my bottle of royal blue ink
Ball point pens been around since '38, sister, even in pink
So you shan't think me old-fashioned, I just bought a brand-new TV!
-Yeah, a nine-inch black-and-white with vacuum tubes that smile at me
But I paid for it with five million Wheaties box tops!
That's crazy... I think I'll start collecting used lemon drops...
Childhood Friends.-----Girl
Tea parties with a Teddy Bear
pretty dresses Sunday morn.
Grandpa said each time at church
it's the prettiest one I've worn.
Slumber party not so hardy
made of sugar and spice.
If truth is known now that I'm grown
sometimes not so nice.
Birthday fun out in the sun
I hate the way fun ends.
Oh what a night oh such a sight
I miss my childhood friends.
Sleepy eyed some sometimes cried
they missed their mom and dad.
Take them home I'm not alone
and Oh what fun we had.
Candy Pez and Simon says
and skipping rope in June.
Hickory tickory dickory dock
and the cow jumped over the moon.
Pink night gowns and merry go rounds
I want just three more spins.
Spring or Fall I loved them all
I miss my childhood friends.
Edwin C Hofert
Let the stream of cash in, flood-gate
Like the Casino, I'll keep chips in your plate
Big-ballin', throw it in the pot, high stakes
Don't sleep, keep watch for fakes and snakes
So much dead pres' to burn, it's a crime
Surprised I ain't in the Feds, doing hard time
Forget 'bout Simon, do what the money says
I dish-out money, like candy from a Pez
Dispenser, destined to do this since I was born
I make it rain, you can't weather this storm
All these accounts, my name should be Fill-More-Banks
I keep the cash secure, it wouldn't be safer in tanks
Fast money, accountant, lost track of how much I earn
The money's wind to my sail, it controls where I turn
I'm eating right now, stack the money like pancakes
You know I love beef, put everything up for stakes
Eating up these problems, got me puttin' on some pounds
BS walk, money talk, you tell me how that sounds?
Hold-up, freeze, don't nothing move but the money
You can't afford to pay attention--it's free, dummy!
Class is in, cash the topic, you failed, watch and learn
Set the city on fire, cremated, get it a urn
napsez
nut duveg pog
zaiveg l naiz nut ta
l yain sug ip za yaiz nieg ta
sanpsenizeug nesp ugzu za yuz nuog
e pez hoeaz ig nait ux i naa
binf juub cizyan iduq
sanyisp dl gez
napsez
For a translation see my previous poem 'Stifling'
Being used.
Take everything out of me,
& on the days i’m not wanted,
I am left emptied
all of the way out.
A pleasant ‘medicine’ to show others just how good I make you feel, & how good I taste.
I’d be lying to say that hearing those words doesn’t make me spring right back up even in a setting as disintegrating as this.
I’m still here, ready to break off a piece of plastic from my narrow body for you.
It is you after all. I’d do it if I had too.
But, you confuse me.
You keep my head lifted & it keeps you entertained.
I like it, kind of. It’s like we’re getting to know each other’s touch, and see similar smiles to those of when we first met.
This makes it easier not to think too much about how I’m handled.
But
You’ve never treated me this way.
I’ve gotten my big head stuck before by trying to fill myself up with much more than you needed,
but this feeling of loneliness by you is unfamiliar.
I love you, I say. I love you, I show.
You love me, you say. You love me, I believe.
I hate the feeling of feeling cheap. You told me that I was especially manufactured for someone of your taste, & I believe every word of that.
Stop pressing my head down into my stomach, please.
I’m starting to get sick of not seeing everything that kept me full of your every desire to see me smile.
I could never be naive enough to say that I can fulfill who you are,
because I have a purpose that involves much more than
going up and down, emptying my insides with temporary dissolving gestures.
But I know I can share with you
the essence of being the someone who treats you as good as the planets you can’t see.
So align me inside the atmosphere of your care, & I’ll pick you up before you can say, “deSpenser”
to be a single woman in
america & aging to boot,
one must have breasts that sing to
the air (that never fall, that never
sag, that never do anything but
what the magazines show on
their covers).
to be a single woman in america
& aging, one must have an ass that
is firm (never dropping, never getting
too big, never getting too small,
always looking perfect in the tightest
of clothes, never doing a thing but
what the magazine covers say).
to be a single woman in america &
aging, one must have lips so lush that
they make one dream of the juiciest
fruits---they must have eyes that sparkle
like the sky or make one dream of the
deepest seas, all out of obligation to
whatever the magazine covers say.
to be a single male in america &
aging to boot,
one must have pockets that jingle,
that are flush with cash, that hold
a checkbook that never runs out of
checks---one must have a bank account
that makes Fort Knox look like a
Pez dispenser, so that they can make it
rain in the driest of places,
abiding by what all the magazines
say.
to be a single male in america & aging,
one must have property, one must have
assets, one must have a house in a different
area code gaining rental money, an apartment
in a tropical area, a mansion in the hills &
a place to “get away” from everything else,
hidden in an undisclosed location---
just like the television reveals,
just like all the playas in the videos &
the movies.
to be a single male in america & aging,
one must have a full head of bustling hair,
abs that one can scrub wet clothes on to
get off the dirt (or that can help whittle down
wood when one can’t find a knife),
one must have a gluts that can have quarters flipped
off them & biceps that can wrap around
& crush like the strongest python (bench twice
your weight, jump high, run fast, squat squat
squat & save the goddamn world)---
just like on the big screen.
Baseball cards and hula hoops
Baloney sandwich, Campbell’s soup
Howdy Doody and Mickey Mouse
Mamie and Ike in the White House
American Bandstand, Rock 'n Roll
Elvis the Pelvis, Nat King Cole
Pez Dispensers and Kool-Aid
Bedtime for Bonzo, Panty Raids
Oscar Mayer’s Wienermobile
Superman was the ‘Man of Steel’
Archie & Veronica, Mad Magazine
Skirts and Bobby-Sox, Jukebox Scenes
The Roadrunner, Tom and Jerry
Durward Kirby and a Moore named Gary
The Price is Right, Let’s Make a Deal
Hostess Twinkies – b & w newsreels
A Dog named Lassie and Rin Tin Tin
Yankees and Celtics always win
Mickey Mantle, Ernie Banks
Whitey Ford, Hammerin' Hank
Joe McCarthy and the Red Scare
Semi-Crewcuts or Slicked-back hair
The 1950’s weren’t built to last
Still and all ~ quite a cast!
Espacios sin relleno
En entrañas de pez
En vuelo
Las mascotas del loquero
Fluyendo en boceto
Moldeándose en aros
Hacia sus adentros
Hojas espirales
Cucharas de estanque
Fluyendo en vacío
Parvada de nidos
Mantel extendido
Totalidad
Y triangulados anillos
De taciturnos cajones
A un etcétera bien pulido
watch the blissful couple
whisper to each other about
how they need to get out quick,
leave their current
circumstance &
run,
run,
run,
so they can get home & ****!
see the epitome of 21st century romance
plastered on the face**** page &
listen to it being
twatted in 140 characters,
from the highest rafters---
with the images on the magazines of
“happy” celebrities & the
baby bumps that swell
(every time the collective consumer consciousness
begins to forget about them),
for some reason the citizens of the empire
still pretend that monogamy means something---
even though the statistics don’t lie,
even though the generation of individuals
who would stay together for ****ing decades,
is dying off,
still, there is a “moral imperative” that lingers,
like the stench of rotting meat
collecting flies & maggots,
like we as a species owe our lives to the very
religious fairy tales,
which we conjured up thousands of years ago
to calm our fear of diseases that we can now cure,
which we conjured up to protect us from things that
went bump in the night,
of which we now can illuminate with electricity &
buzzing neon,
while choice disbelievers in the religious
fairytales, still secretly entertain their own personal
delusions,
for they buy into the promises of the state &
get their little piece of paper,
knowing in their hearts that they were
“meant to be together forever”---
all these lies which are supposed to gear us towards
“tying the knot” &
popping out rugrats like PEZ,
do nothing to save two people from the inevitable decline
that comes to all couples
who give up on keeping themselves in shape,
who give into the speed of life that charges against them,
who give up & listen to their older delusional relatives
who won’t stop asking why they aren’t living exactly the same
way as they are,
who decide to be discontented,
who decide to be unhappy,
who decide that yelling & screaming at one another
is a way of life to be
tolerated,
simply because
“it has to be.”
Oh no, I can’t do it here!
And my feathers are a mess!
Can’t a clucker have a little privacy?
I don’t know about the rest of you
but I can’t just pop out egg after egg
like I’m a plastic PEZ dispenser!
And certainly not in front of that pushy
crower, Chanticleer.
Cock-a-doodle-doo, Cock-a-doodle-SHOO!
There’s not even enough straw in here
to fashion a two-bit bedroom.
And the walls are crate paper thin!
You’d think this was a hen party!
I haven’t heard this much cackling
since the Chippendales came through!
No, changes WILL be made if they ever
want to taste my omelet!
bobbing heads of pez dispensers
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
remember the days of one cent candy
didnt that used to come in handy
what about going to dollar movies
looking hot and getting groovy
i used to like cabbage patch kids
whoever says they didnt well they did
barbie and ken were my favorite toy
who knew that plastic could bring such joy
hee haw was my saturday night thing
used to grab my pencil and sing
legos and g.i joe made a fun play time
building castles and stopping crime
duck duck goose and mother may i
please sit down before i cry
cookies and milk thats what santa claus like
why wont he bring me my banana seat bike
what about sugar water and everyone partying
playing dress up and all the kids farting
cotton candy and candylane battleship and simon says
tootsie pops and tootsie rolls candy rings and different pez
under roos were fun to wear
my training bar was quite the scare
boogyman and monsters under my bed
how many monkeys bumped their head
i could go on with things children love
all we need to do is remind ourselves of how it was
i loved my childhood didnt you