Best Putz Poems
8MILE8MILE . . . . . STYLE . . . . 8MILE8MILE
I got my mind on my money and my money on my mind but no matter where
I go I see them same old hoes
BRING DA BEAT c’mon, c’mon, c’mon HERE WE GO
YEA YEA YEA
They be warin old clothes, exposin them busted ass toez in fishnet pantyhose
They be standin in rowz, striking that silly old pose, workin them same two
Joes
So the rumor grows, and everybody knows, that her name is rose, we know
rose blows
DOUBLE BUBBLE, BUBBLE TROUBLE, YEA YEA YEA
She got fired from LoweZ, ’cause she stole a garden hose, spent all the money
at Moe’Z
Yea - Moe’Z ho clothes and fishnet hose, down at 52nd and StrowZ, traffic
really slows when she bends to expose, she get dirt on them knees, when she
blows
DOUBLE BUBBLE, BUBBLE TROUBLE YEA YEA YEA
AND THE COP SHOWZ
UP, UP, UP, EVER’BODY UP, C’MON UP, C’MON UP
YEA YEA YEA
She putz the powder up her nose, didn’t pay the fine she owez, gives a
discount to the bros
Ever’body froze, then the streetlight glows, that’z the way it goes, for all them
bimboz
Same for the hoes, az it is for the bros, all the way from Melrose to the
chicagos
And it’s still the same for the Souix and them Navahoes, UH YEA UH YEA
SHOUT OUT TO ALL MY PEEPZ IN THE POCONOS
YEA YEA YEA I’M OUT
OUT ROLLIN ON THAT 8 MILE ROOOOAD
8MILE8MILE . . . . STYLE . . . . 8MILE8MILE
written by
Warner Baxter
One Knight Stand Productions
all rights reserved
I took umbrage over a comment in a current blog, in part stating that poetry, "... is a battlefield..." No. There should be no gauntlets thrown, no darts hurled, and no negative words hurled as if Poetry Soup is a battlefield. I was motivated to write...
Over and over again, blogs become a wallowing hole
where ugliness brews contempt and always takes a toll
on those who are trying to make a simple observation.
Someone takes offense and that provokes confrontation
by a tadpole who'll be a frog and not Prince Charming.
Ya know... the narcissistic type who think it's alarming
that they're ideas are not accepted by others on the site.
Then, it's "Katie, bar the door" and get ready for a fight!
Pollywogs keep swimming in rippling waters of the Soup,
where they take a dump, but don't think of it as 'Poop.'
Blogs are sandboxes where nasty words become litter.
Catty remarks are made by the arrogant and the bitter.
Not surprising, the same ones cut up with their mocking.
It's the same MO they use when they come a knocking...
knocking on new blog doors and causing a ruckus inside.
That's crossing a line that no one should ever take in stride.
Some abuse blogs, as if they're churches or synagogues.
If any part of Poetry Soup should go, it should be the Blogs.
Not as some redundantly claim, should be poetry contests...
Objected to by rallying sponsors and poets in fervid protests.
Blogs serve as playgrounds but break all schoolyard rules
when some can't stop themselves from acting like fools.
There's fighting and tugs of war... never for a good cause.
Gettin' tough over trivial stuff puts a pinch in their drawers.
For gosh sake, act like adults instead of flakes and nuts.
There's never and excuse for acting like a rattlepated putz.
WHO SOURED THE SOUP?
blog trolls
blowholes
bloggers
cloggers
daft clown
sad frown
a nerd
absurd
intense
pretense
Miss Putz
she's nuts
old goose
obtuse
one jerk
does lurk
sick dude
so rude
soup pun
such fun
March 20, 2017
Jan's Footles Contest
spawned in the summer of 1853
these sliced succulent deep fried wonders
resulted from the demands of a complaining customer
whose ******** led our man, a one,
mr. george crum
to do his best to satisfy the putz in question by
replacing the humdrum n’ waterlogged n’ sodden,
slithery,
pommes de terre
with
his
new
&
improved
(as thin as could possibly be imagined),
drenched in salt,
deep fried & sizzling,
immaculate conception.
and as you can imagine, mr. cornelius vanderbilt
(said unruly customer),
whom mr. crum felt would most assuredly send back the creation he just made,
again,
for his money back,
instead
had something of an ****** of the taste buds!
and so these
“saratoga chips”
came to be the next big thing---
satisfying lovers of starch, grease & salt, everywhere.
it didn’t take long for word to get to canada where they buried them things in
dill pickle,
ketchup,
jalapeño & cheddar,
salt n’ pepper,
roast chicken---or to
austria where they soak em’ in garlic, bulgaria, where paprika is the taste of the day—
& colombia boasts
mayonesa y limón,
egypt popularized the kebob & stuffed vine leave essence of zest,
you got oregano chips in greece
you got the overwhelming majority chomping down the tayto’s in ireland
whereas in
russia
it is caviar, crab and
shashlik
which make the people salivate.
regardless of where you are or what you are doing
you can get some kind of potato chip
yes,
you can suck down that sodium & grease
mmmmmmmm
i
myself
am currently in something of a sour cream n’ onion phase---
and i must say
i praise the day
that crum went back in the
kitchen
&
angrily
whipped up a batch of
yummyness
for
vandy
to
suck
down---
commencing
la revolución de patatas fritas.
There are those moments that stay with us forever
stuck in time, we will forget them never
The night I picked up the phone, it was late
how could this be his fate?
I drove and on my way I got a flat tire
this seemed a cruel and divinely planned satire
The tow truck man could not remove the lug nuts
Almost midnight now and I thought he was a putz
When mom's door opened there were swollen eyes
I was the strong one to my surprise
We made the plans and bought the box
I look back now and know I was still in shock
My hair came out in clumps as I showered
Being strong and holding it in was not making me feel empowered
Then about three months later it hit me like a wall
my father was gone, I would not see him at all
I had not cried at all until that day
It seemed I could not stop now to my dismay
My words of wisdom to pass on to you my friend
Tell those you love how you feel every now and again.
Waiting on my flight I headed for the airport café
With a hot coffee in sight I quickly made my way
While I was at the store I got some donuts too
A bag of eight or more as bite size was all the new
But when I went to sit, there was no place to be found
And I was just about to quit in finishing looking around
Over there was one seat, just a man sitting there by himself
So in so wanting to rest my feet I went in kind of stealth
My bags now set down, finally that first sip of hot coffee
Thus removing my frown, saying finally it's now about me
In reaching in that bag for a nice, warm jelly crispy cream
When suddenly dag! in partaking, that other man he did beam
Who was this guy as I pulled my donuts next to my side
And looking from the corner of my eye, "these donuts I'll just hide"
But with a long reach and again that big smile on this strangers face
He took the one filled with peach as for a fight I began to brace
But then he finally stood and just left going about his own way
As I thought man that's good, "for I should at least have a say"
Oh, and there's my flight call, standing up and getting organized
When I thought, OH the gall! as I looked down and suddenly realized
My donuts were sitting on my suitcase and I was eating his donuts
And yet he showed me such grace even as I was acting like a putz
But the one real true moral being sewn throughout this whole story
Is that only one man was seeing the true Grace of all of God's Glory
Based on a story I heard.
(sung – in a round pussy willow warble - to the tune of --
Oh Where Oh Where has my little dog gone)
With a flam boy hunt deft jais nais sais quois
firm lickey split tongue
and two bell yule yar pissant
little nappy ruck berry filled up paul ling sacks
viz peppy la pew doth not peter out,
and weathers clawed rained swipes
from hello kitty when faux pas gets swung
assisting climbing Jacob's ladder
(without pussy footing,
orb bing a putz like the president)
advancing quick to attain orgasmic rung
while heading into a slippery sloping sluice
(with prickly endeavor emitting cleat trill
smooth sailing along a ****
re coarse upon phallic shaped pung
crossing la brea tar pits (peppered
with lai bee ha tricky bridge over the River Kwai)
comprising ideal place de la resistance
to woo tang clan foreign nee Kate,
where two puckered rill lee fleshy ruffling rills
tinged pinkish lips overhung
a challenging escarpment,
where many a brave Tom, Harry or Dick get hung
up, particularly while searching for fabled “G” spot,
cuz portcullis hamstrung
even the most fiercely determined
Engleburt Hump per dink
necessitating the moist risky ski maneuver
as most studs know tubby gelandesprung
though booby prize wool worth any slimy setbacks,
where sticky gook gets flung
from angry cat,
who does not in the least find amusing,
and if further pricked with rage
not averse to hurl dung
gar (with) ease at snaky,
retractable hardened beastie boy twill clung
for dear life and limb (er, or twig and berries),
while applying crampons (bivouaced
within his maxipad), viz bung
gull low, essentially a ball peen size cove
hammered out by Dashiell Hammitt, where coiled,
kinked follicles strewn tightly inlet among
pheromone laced verboten fruit.
I'm sitting at a desk,
no longer mine,
in a house that is no more,
before me, a glass of wine,
and a book I've seen before
a journal, forty years old,
my wisdom then, was somehow
seemingly far greater and visionary,
than what I have just now...
there's termites in my floorboards,
there's termites in my mind
I need a good exterminator,
to save me from their kind....
a package deal he offers,
including soup to nuts,
I told him very firmly,
I am a poetry soup nutty putz....
you put a cockroach in my home,
you'll see me burn it down...
I hate bugs so very much,
the mere thought brings me a frown
give me mice, if you have to,
give me termites if you must,'
but put a cockroach in my home,
I'll soon enough turn it into dust
ticks should only infest clocks,
fleas for a political refugee,
bed bugs only for a mattress store,
and ants to keep uncles company
I'm afraid then to follow this logic,
and think of what cockroachs
intend for their encroaches
just the thought of this subject,
the disgusting world of bugs,
makes me awful nauseous,
with lots and lots of "Ughs"!!!
A very odd co-worker,
One who drove us all nuts,
Was more than weird with food,
In fact, he was a putz
Every single day
He'd eat his
tuperware'd roast beef
Never a chance in menu
All other foods succumbed
To a sadistic nasty food-thief?
But when he had his banana,
That really took the cake...
He'd peel it completely
Before the first bite he'd take...
So there he was,
With a naked banana in his hand,
Gooey stuff oozing between his fingers
It was a sight no one could stand...
This was a very odd fellow,
There is so much more to tell
A bizarre co-worker,
With ol' thomas bell
"When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations." John F. Kennedy
Arrogance is such an egotistical trait; one I cannot abide
Ignorance, I can excuse, but not those puffed up with pride
Pompous people sing their own praises in snooty songs
Their sharp tongues exposing them as pathetic ding dongs
Cocky ones enjoy clawing at people, hoping for surrender
Hiding behind the facade of a mask is a worthless pretender
They try to steal the dignity of others, as though out for blood
Tearing at their emotions like peeling petals from a rose bud
Until someone comes along to drag them off their high horse
and reveals their tyrannical ways with little exertion or force
With puckered lips they chomp at people like a big mouth bass
and for thinking I'm naive, they deserve a boot up the a s s
Always acting smug, their spouting and spewing is notorious
Conceited megalomaniacs who think they are vainglorious
Pretentious in manner and speaking, but absolutely boring
Picking fights just to be rebellious, belligerent and warring.
Does such behavior make them feel important and influential?
I see them as venomous snakes, whose lives are inconsequential
One day ego will prostrate them, landing them flat on their butts
Each haughty one I prefer to label an insolent moron and a putz.
December 31, 2021
King-Size Bull Crap Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Charlie Messina
Addicted? Who me?
Could stop any time
One cup a day?
Would do me just fine
Aside from the shakes
Freaking out now and then
Craving that fix
Going off the deep end
Trust me I'm fine
Not being deceitful
Shakes aren't a problem
'Cept threading a needle
But I'll have to admit
Some lives have been ruined
Caffeine's the nemesis
Cut down on the brewin'
Whoever discovered it
Was a downright putz
To cause so much grief
With one li'l ole cup!
© Jack Ellison 2012
i am angry
i am offended
i am blue
notice the i, i, i,
when will it end?
dammit, i hurt
i feel sorry for
myself.
i feel so disgraced,
degraded?
i wanna run
i, i, i,
i am sick of me.
i need to get over
myself.
this writing stinks.
i am in agony.
i am unloveable
and untouchable.
i feel like crushing
myself under
my heel
if i could bend down
that far.
i might as well be
a stripper as much
as my body as
been invaded and
exposed.
i can't listen to
myself anymore;
i am a putz.
janetta
Sometimes I confront my inner child
But usually we just play with blocks
I learned how to see if anyone's home
When I was at the school of hard knocks!
One time I fell down a deep dark hole
Since I was unable to see that well!
Once my defense was to turtle up
But later I came out of my shell
I bumped into Donald Ducks girlfriend
And although you might think it's crazy
For some reason, she got really mad
Whenever I said, "Oops a daisy!"
My friend said, "Find a date on line"
"And try not to be such a putz!"
Someone interested in stuff like me?
I don't want anybody that nuts!
sheets of light from times that’ve passed &
(patterns of events
that try to circumvent)
clichés dancing ‘pon the looking glass
(original overcast clouds
placing bets upon the rent)
where places drift along the sea
(introverted romantic something somethings
being labeled criminal)
as Dali’s clocks did drip & tease &
(whilst the hoity-toity high society harlequins
are dubbed seminal)
from the egg his wife did come
(merely chatter, merely filler,
merely wasted time is found)
along the beach a silent song
(when original tunes are ignored
for those tramping round the town)
a place to run when problems come
(be them neon, be them glitter,
be them televised in the day)
insanity claims the sanest ones
(nothing molds so well so to exploit,
better than the softest clay)
still as the snow covers all the tracks &
(full of figureheads & liars getting up to the pulpit
to say their piece)
all one’s life’s packed in a sack
(like genitals on the slab
seething sores & bearing yeast)
the quicker all the lot is done
(telling torrent tales of tortured lands &
faces they’ll never know)
the sooner death for everyone
(using everyone as bargaining chips
just to gain a few more pounds)
but is the dream one’s having now
(smoking cigarettes to bear the look
of some hollywood glammy putz)
any different from a walkabout?
(streaming show suits & ill-gotten gains,
twisting, turning in the lutz)
another clue, another quiz,
another care for an idiot.
Contains More Than Kernel Of Truthful
alienation, expulsion, ostracization
from body politick
if member of society resistant,
indifferent, adamant, et cetera
despite differentiation
(across the figurative board)
intolerance opposing ethos,
asper unspoken social graces extant
(albeit manifested amidst diverse
livingsocial variations) within
rubric of global civilizations primal,
oral, nonverbal, et cetera codas
automatically decreeing manual Kant
instilled from cradle
to grave impossible mission scant
acceptance toward recalcitrant
challenging precepts via rave and/or rant
thus when born into whatever culture,
steeped with historical paradigm
one can protest superficial nigh cities
til ivy blue in the face,
or try to concoct a feeble rhyme
but culture club richly identified, endowed,
brewed from heritage long time
ago until the cows come home to roost
hence creative pursuits one direction
can turn to swiftly tailor
if harried styled
with perceived restrictive parameters
and cuss like a sailor
with song and dance routine
(perhaps appearing on Dancing
With The Stars), or
choosing subterfuge viz
writing nefarious malware code, where mailer
daemons spring to life, when computer code
following infinitely jesting illogic causing exhaler
(case in point - myself, hoot
ends tubby humorous) as yukon gauge
yet another Internet end user might experience
greater reason to rage
against the machine before
turning rogue gushing renegade, stage
jing anarchy against disparity
with equal pay, cuz a working wage
aint nuttin boot peanuts
so if strong willed, hook hairs
if you appear like a putz
just realize doggerel
of this pooch iz gaseous boot utterly without guts
and hangs around the junkyard
with other nerdy mutts.