Best Pump Poems
The clown, yes, a clown, she did stop for gas.
Surprised, yes, I was. I saw her through glass.
With sparkle of hues,
And squeak of her shoes,
The clown, yes, a clown, did step out for gas.
The old red water pump,
draws water no more,
it's only there for
a memory.
wrote 4-5-11
at home we had this water pump and there was a well under neath it. but it gave out many
years ago. My brother painted it red a long time ago, i saw a picture of it and this idea came
to me.
speak out
silence hangs
unproductively
*if you are not part
of the solution, you're part of the problem
act with mercy and kindness but, do act non-the-less
you were born with mind and spine, so soldier on doing what needs be done
2,3,5,11,13,17
*Philosophy Of Eldridge Cleaver [1935-1998]
pump em’ full of roids
don’t give a *****about baseball,
don’t care about basketball,
could give a **** about football,
could give a piss about the Olympics
& i wouldn’t watch the Tour de France if
you paid me,
but i know one thing---
if i was one of these schmucks who
shell out an arm & a leg
for a seat in the stands to watch the
pituitary cases run round on a field
in their little uniforms,
i would want my pituitary cases
pumped full of roids,
writhing with performance enhancing
drugs &
buzzing with stimulants of all shapes &
sizes,
because i would want my goddamned
money’s worth---
all of these athletes who used &
succeeded, surpassing the sloths who
chose not to, are the real
entertainers &
is that not what these muscle bound
maniacs
get paid to do?
entertain us mother****ers!
entertain us
&
worry about what all the drugs did to
your body,
when you’re sitting home,
old, senile &
surrounded by trophies.
I need to boast on all the blogs I own and write you see,
That I am a diverse writer of creativity!
~
I need to enhance my ego of mine for all to view,
I need the self esteem high that is all mine and so due!
~
I need to make sure you know I write intelligently,
This calms and soothes my demons inside of me.
~
Countless hours I've spent,
thinking about you and me.
Wandering thoughts, racing mind,
about what we could be.
For so long I've held on,
to the thought we'd be together.
There were no troubles or worries,
no storm we couldn't weather.
Countless words on notebook paper,
my heart I poured to you.
Pages and pages you were my muse,
but you never had a clue.
It's been a while since I wrote
"I Should Have Told You"
and my other favorite,
"I Do".
Those poems were the only way
I could express how I felt.
I remember writing about
how "your smile makes me melt".
It's so silly to look back now
and see a little naive girl.
How head over heels I was
and how I made you my world.
I knew the day would come,
when you'd find another.
When you'd call her yours
and to me it would bother.
Today was that day I feared.
I saw you were no longer solo.
My phone buzzed with a text.
My friend had sent me a photo.
The caption was a simple,
"Dude she's like your twin!"
My eyes went wide, she was right,
my face filled with a grin.
In front of me on the screen,
was a couple side by side.
It was my ex and his new girl,
they were walking in stride.
In that moment I was not upset.
I did not even look away.
I was overcome with the joyous feeling,
that I was actually okay.
I thought I would be angry.
I thought I would get mad.
I thought I would be sick.
I thought I would be sad.
It was quite the opposite actually.
I really did not even care.
I pulled a "Breakfast Club" move,
and threw my fist in the air.
It was in that moment I realized,
there wasn't anything I couldn't do.
I was free from your chains.
My anchor was always you.
You didn't keep me grounded,
in fact you held me down.
But now that I am free,
I'll swim to the surface, I won't drown.
If we ever cross paths again,
I will smile and I will say hello.
Although you and I are no longer friends,
you certainly are no longer a foe.
I hope she makes you happy.
I wish you two all the best.
It's a great feeling to know,
this weight has been lifted off my chest.
If your gas tank is empty,
Unless you're inept,
You can fill it yourself
In all places except...
Oregon and New Jersey
Where you're not allowed.
If you tried, you would certainly
Be disavowed.
It's a mystery why
Such a law's on the books.
Likely some politician's
In debt to some crooks.
So when I'm in New Jersey,
In gas lines I'm stuck.
Though the prices are better,
It's not worth the buck.
Water Hand Pump
I wonder whence the pipe goes?
Underground Niagra, Mississippi or Caspian Sea?
Working the Up-Down Handle like Punching a PIN,
A Subterranean ATM of Cool Crystal Quench,
Sometimes the Handle Ignores Rapid Work,
Just as Licking a Stamp, I Have to Prime,
Give to Get, Down Goes Wet, Up Comes Sublime,
As If Sensient, What Goes Around, It Understands,
Physics Doesn't Play Games, Invest the Good,
Even Salt Water Brings Up the Sweet,
Not Machine Psychology but Leather Swelling,
Sealing the Gap Between Bucket & Sub-Dwelling.
Now Primed, Pumping Towards the Ground,
Creates Cavity 'Tween this World & Maybe Hell,
A Spurting Fountain Results from the Well.
If Only All Life Were Clear & Transparent,
Nature's Dignity Comes from Innocence,
In Figuring Things Out, I Stand More Erect,
Glimpsing, Enacting Cause & Effect.
turn up the stereo so everyone goes to hear the song of lil Pump know
bust up the beat to promote its tempo
take you to places you need to go
flirting with fire coming down to the wire a gun for hire calling him a liar
the steets are uneasy the flames are just as strong
cause Turtle Wax is cheap we got the dancing feet stand still to repeat
purchased a remedy for hip hop brevity everythings steady are you ready
close the door to places you need to know have a shoulder to cry
what's to die for a leader and never a follower
Lil Pump like Gucci Man working on his tan the latest fade
chain it up burning records like you want to smoking marijuana as you grow fond of
Dance hall grill hoping latest trend with family & friends
Lil Pump know the score kicking it with a two bit whore screaming for more
in the window stands a paradox of time remember when you were broke down to your last dime
the wild side inside of me minus the *********** set the captives free
Lil Pump know what Little Pump do but I'm still not through
he's coming on track in the music scene living in a land so very mean
Lil pump is where its at working to hard can give you a heart attack
Big Mac with your Cadillac playing hacky sack a tiff or tat
purchased his resistance caught the oozy lying but I'm not buying fish for frying
Ah! For the good old days when you could fill the tank for a dollar.
If folks paid more'n a quarter a gallon, my, how they'd holler!
Nowadays, it necessitates a usurious loan from the bank,
Or a second mortgage on the house, just to fill the tank!
Politicians piously claim they can feel our pain at the pump.
Well, I don't know about that, but it sure makes me grump!
I can only shake my fist and vent my rage at Conoco and Shell,
Sinclair, Diamond, EXXON, Phillips and the entire oil cartel!
Oil companies make huge profits and give their CEOs a bonus,
But on the backs of us working stiffs is placed a taxing onus!
"Elect Me!" promise the politicians, "and I'll guarantee relief!"
We've heard that old saw before - it usually means more grief!
I doubt that the moose, caribou or elk really give a hoot,
Should drilling be allowed in Alaska in our oil pursuit!
Nor would sharks, barracudas or moray eels be at all offended,
If we set up rigs and drilled offshore as some have recommended!
Alas, the price of a barrel of oil continues to rise each day,
And us fellers at the end of the pipeline are the ones who pay.
In suspending gas taxes for a spell, I see very little merit.
The only solution for our plight I guess, is just to grin and bear it!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Ram pump going
ka-thunk, ka-thunk
Water flowing
ka-thunk, ka-thunk
Rain’s not slowing
ka-thunk, ka-thunk
Spray still throwing
ka-thunk, ka-thunk
It’s good knowing
ka-thunk, ka-thunk
Uphill rowing
ka-thunk, ka-thunk
Still mind-blowing
ka-thunk, ka-thunk
Summer growing
ka-thunk, ka-thunk
Berries showing
ka-thunk, ka-thunk
Who’d a-thunk?
A very crucial thing this is, this part of the greater whole
It hides, quiet, in the wings, so vital this thing
Never seen yet works so hard, does its job, day after day
Circulating, delivering, controlling the demands
Sometimes we need slow, or fast, it is taken for granted
And then it ages, develops flaws, performance gone
So, we slow up, until it fails and all comes to stop
Marooned, mired, our voyage ends
If lucky we can replace it, come back to life
Our journeys dictated by a high pressure pump
Aug 2021
Trump the Pump Truck Driver
By Franklin Price
11/09/2019
Trump is who we see he is, doesn't practice to deceive
Won the plumbing job, three years ago, was elected to receive
All the piled up defecation that was spread throughout the land
He has unclogged the toilets and the flushing's not so grand
Took the top off of the septic tank, it's not a pretty sight
The smell is overpowering, whether middle, left or right
Trump's the pump truck driver who was hired for the scene
He has gotten down and dirty, for sure he isn't Mr. clean
He put the hose deep in the doo, turned the valve, began to suck
Wasn't long until 'twas evident that he'd need a bigger truck
To clean the tank and drainfield and to make DC a part
Of the whole US's treatment plant. I believe he's made a start.
Congress fills its bellies, checks are paid for by the rich
Eating caviar and lobster; their elected life's a b...
When everything's digested and it's time to take a dump
They try to flush it all away, and blame the smell all on the Trump
For all of you in Washington, who are supposed to be our link
Who look down from the Capitol and think your poop don't stink
Get that thought out of your head, and quit all of your braggin'
Get out and get among us, and smell the honey wagon
Perhaps you should return to, that house with moon on door
With a wooden seat to hold you and a dirt hole in the floor
And after you've contributed to the smell that's evident
Move into the basement where all the solid waste is sent
Pump on, lest death may play its part,
with weight of sin or righteousness.
It is not ours, this beating heart.
Indeed, when schemes may fall apart,
though souls be gripped by frightfulness.
Pump on, lest death may play its part.
And though the wiles of a sweetheart,
her leave to cause much woefulness.
It is not ours, this beating heart.
Or when death nears, and angels dart,
seek not redress for life’s caress.
Pump on, lest death may play its part.
All things forever from the start,
are linked as one through timelessness.
It is not ours, this beating heart.
Life is but hues of nature’s art,
not bound to whims of false noblesse.
Pump on, lest death may play its part.
It is not ours, this beating heart.
Pump up bloody
When the weathers getting cold.
Pump up bloody
when you think your getting cold,
pump up bloody when your tired and need to work,
pump up bloody when your down and really hurt,
pump up bloody when your weak and sick and worn,'
pump up bloody when you want to feel reborn,
pump up bloody to clear the veins from gunk,
pump up bloody to lift when mood is sunk,
pump up bloody to see through clearer eyes,
pump up bloody to know that you have tried.