Best Plunk Poems
Trump went to the golf course today
But nobody wanted to play
When someone yelled, "Fore!"
Trump thought they yelled, "Whore!"
And proudly stood in the ball's way
predicated on verb hose noun sense
with brain matter makes me astute
and this union with the trappings
of virtual reality tub boot
would be akin to heaven
within the domain of this atheist - ole coot
whose purr add ventures scripting verse
sit aisle feeble rhyme with no reason
moost definitely hi yam not terse
aye speculate yar facial reaction
(understandably) would be
toe step from this purse
son i.e. Daff Punk Matthew Scott Harris
when ma time to ride luxuriously
in a plushly jeweled hearse
carrying thigh cremated ash
disagrees with me credo, ethos,
faith no more much less brash
since be yen entombed
in a coffin resistant to crash
vis a vis atoms either
forcibly split (divorced)
or tum marry in a shotgun flash
(fission or fusion respectively)
exhausts precious natural race horses
cruelly whipped
stinging fresh fielded gash
where putrescent hide of Equus resembles hash
sheesh, how in the of Judas Priest
did hie veer off into the least
common denominator,
which absolute value increased
the totally tubular confusion
into a worthless jumbled gobbledygook feast.
The shape had fallen a minute amount when I saw it,
Ringed it was.
The sight reminded me of a stone
Dropping into the watre,
Seen from beneith,
It was defuseing into the surroundings
With the trail it seemed to be leaving.....
......Ripples of pinks
A peeking form,
Fields blooming yellow
awaiting the bees,
Ranged over to inside,
Self to even over.
thy macbook pro
contracted a ungrateful deadly virus
disallowing communication
between you Pink Floyd, and us
Tom MacDonald (the head
hombre honcho) didst tuss
sup hiz hands in utter futility,
and exhausting every suss
stain nibble dollop pa Rob Zombie courtesy
sans himself and Russ
tea (a lifelong four footed
canine companion)
large as a small medium at large
bow wow wing over seer christened Marge
a Jeff Bezos Amazon woman
demanding tubby address as "Sarge"
long days journey into night
without access
to the Pink world wide web,
newt hiz a bless
akin to experience
foreboding check mate playing chess
after one fateful opening gambit,
asper this poe whit doth express
he haint no "Garry Kasparov,
Anatoly Karpov, Bobby Fischer...
or other prominent masters
nee virtual kings
aye coon fess
cuz y'all would
be on target to guess
this chipper chap
(now he iz back in busy 'n Hesse)
hive felt extreme dot com tremens
without recourse the cyber space
e'en though misgivings prevail bing
linkedin within the human race
and nah ver since birth,
hike hood never find my place
until...while very late in my puberty,
which lasted til age fifty and nine
orbitz 'round el sol, twas juiced recently
attained personal
accomplishments sans mine
kempf posse sub billy due to pertinent
Capricorn requisite plan nets
formed a heterosexual
instagram joyus chorus line
Plunk plick plat splat
The drip of faucet compels me to
Throw down a few notes
Words I had not thought of six seconds before
Cardinals and sparrows
Twittering and chittering
I listen hard, capturing nothing
Yet inspired by everything.
My subconscious grabs these sounds
Work on them as I slumber
Astral travel my go-to-place
As my muse sings what she finds funny
We wake up suddenly
A helicopter of a mosquito
Dive bombs me
Urging me to write of my killing ways
I pick up a pen
Dashing down an inky path
in a notebook full of everything
and nothing, twisting me with crazy ideas
Shiny thoughts, dark ideas,
Whimsical dragons, laughing at my silliness
Leading me down paths with their plunks plicks plats and splats