Best Smarmy Poems
My muse did her fealty recuse
My honor she did stealthily reconnoiter
My discourse was grounds for divorce
Finding my writing no longer enlightening
My blithe parlance no longer my mistress did entrance
With my prose she did forthrightly dispose
Each short she did subsequently abort
Each regaling verse did prudently disburse
Each perforated line truncated with lackluster shine
Each conjured sentence only increased my penance
Each glamorous byline she did smugly decline
Each dilated phrase with a bridling border did encase
Each gilded stanza a burnished extravaganza yielding no artful bonanza
Each tethered word coagulated into a stolid curd
Each bloated quote sunk my creative float deeper in the moat
Each lofty rhyme labeled too smarmy and sublime
My metric time no longer struck a concordant chime
Each literary device neatly spliced would not even a novice entice
Each repetitive, stagnant metaphor made my verse a bore
Each strained, tortured simile engendered no empathy
Each supplanted metonymy a shock wave lobotomy
Categories:
smarmy, funny, metaphor,
Form:
Light Verse
When the young start calling you "deary"
You know that things are going south
And ask if you want the senior discount
All with that smarmy smirk of the mouth
Shopping becomes a sad affair at best
Cute clothes don't fit a drooping frame
Your wardrobe consists of cover-ups
And the bulges showing really are a shame.
The memory goes, I cant find my keys
Did I take my pills or feed the darn cat?
I'm supposed to buy eggs or was it cheese
Doesn't matter, I'm just a crazy old bat
Getting old is not "golden years" as they say
It's more about hanging on as best you can
And trying to find some small joy in each day
But now really, who thought up this ridiculous plan....
Categories:
smarmy, age, humor, , cute,
Form:
Quatrain
What's the point in voting
it really dosn't count,
I thought the highest scorer
knocked the others out.
But no,no, no............
I hear you shout
We are the people
we do not count.
Polititians rule the country
that is really true
They really do not listen
to the likes of me and you.
All this,' let the people have a say'
it's a load of rubbish
We all line up in the rain,
to place our'X' to vote and wish....
But it is all in vain I tell you
they won't let us have our say,
they get us in debt,.. we're up to our neck
they promise us this
And give a smarmy smile
and they promise us that
telling more lies, all the while
when it comes to delivering, huh.......
I dont think they know how the truth is told
they come out with the same excuses
to come clean with truth,...... they're not that bold
Hung parliment...huh
I know who we'd like to hang
Guy Faulks had the right idea
send Parliament up with a 'Bang'
Categories:
smarmy, angst, confusion, depression, life,
Form:
Rhyme
I woke up feeling great today,
alive with joy and energy
Then at the park, to my dismay,
an old She-Devil I did see!
She’s back in town. I’ve got the blues!
Again, I’ll see her smarmy smile.
“It’s great to see you, Hon!” she’ll ooze.
Behind her grin lurk gall and guile.
My friends and I must watch our backs,
where daggers she once plunged in deep.
It’s difficult to foil attacks
by evil. Does it ever sleep?
At sabotage, she’s skilled and slick.
No reputation’s safe with her.
This woman’s warped; she really sick.
If you should meet her, you’d concur!
entered in John Hamilton's NA Re-run Contest June 22, 2019
revised for Tania Kitchin's contest It Was a Good Morning Until--
February 11, 2021
March 23, 2021
entered in the It Only Seems That Way contest placed 7th of 10
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
December 18, 2021
entered in the King-Size Bull Crap Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Categories:
smarmy, evil, woman,
Form:
Rhyme
This fact discerned
is wisdom hard-earned:
Behind a quick, smarmy smile
may lurk artful guile.
April 23, 2021
April 23, 2021
entered in Brian Strand's All Yours (April 24) Contest placed 1st
June 2, 2021
Contest: Bite Size Poem no. 4
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Categories:
smarmy, smile,
Form:
Verse
You’re so bourgeois,
it ain’t materialistically funny
You’re so smug, lady LaDeda —
you’re a maven for making money
Always turning your nose up,
and looking down
at poor, working class people
Thinking you’re better than most everyone else
because of what you got
You’re so bourgeois,
I hope that Dom Perigon don’t give you gut rot
You’re so smarmy, lady cougar —
you believe your own press, that you’re some big shot
But you’re not
You’re just that same bratty little kid,
whose nose was always dripping with snot
Somewhere along the way in life,
you came across a piece of money ...
now you think you’re so bourgeois
Class is more than a custom car,
honor is more than a huge house
True success is not measured
by how much is in a bank account
But you still don’t understand,
do you, lady Bourgeois —
money can only take you so far,
before it drops you
into a river of cash flow funk
Riches got wings
that can fly away,
sending you back into poverty
Such an empty feeling,
ain’t it Bourgie lady ...
No green got you turning so gray
Categories:
smarmy, humorous, image, parody, truth,
Form:
Light Verse
Two black soul brothers
Standing on the corner
In front of Metro center
On a Friday night
In the heart of the new evil empire
The center of the beast
Hell Central
Preaching the word of god
The news of the end of the world
The proverbial end times
Were upon us and coming soon
The commuters, workers and bemused tourists
Walk on by the preacher men
Some pay attention, most walk on by
They did not want to hear
They did not understand
And the preacher man kept
Preaching the word of god
And no one paid any attention
None at all
God is going to punish us
God is coming soon
To punish the wicked and the evil
And to set things right
God is going to punish the U.S.
For its arrogance, hubris and hypocrisy
For its greed and evil
Disguised as saving the world
From the evil ones
God is coming, oh yeah he is on his way
And boy is he angry at us
At the entire human race
And God, let me tell yah
He ain't the wimpy, wampy pappy
White boy false god of the New Testament
The false deity that the evil Reverend Farwell
And the smarmy Pat Robinson worship
Hell no
God ain't that god
God is a mean, angry powerful God
The god of the Old Testament
The god of the Koran and the god of old
The god that man once feared
Yeah, I am talking about that god
Jehovah, Zeus, Allah and a thousand other names
The god that our ancestors feared
The real deal, and boy is he pissed off
And he is coming to set up straight
And send most of us straight to hell
Categories:
smarmy, dark, deep, philosophy, religion,
Form:
Free verse
Sanity
At a interview with a well-known Greenwich based hedge fund,
my corporate destiny hinged on the man across the desk from me.
From pierced ears protruded tufts of wiry hair stained by yellow wax.
He seemed civil enough but his ringed pinky was shy.
It burrowed and hid way up his nose; I was sure it was lost.
I pretended not to stare.
He proceeded to speak only in rhyme.
“The employers need to pick your brain;
to ascertain if you are sane.
The following will tell us what we need.
Should we hire you? Are you rational, indeed?”
Eyes opening wide, my heart raced;
my very compos mentis was in doubt.
“Your bathtub is filled with water to the top.
You need the tub empty of every single drop.
All you have are spoon, cup and pail.
What would best help you prevail?”
Sweating profusely, I replied,
“the pail (I think), would be my choice”.
Mr. Hairy Ears smiled with glee.
“That’s wrong. You’re not meant to be.”
“There’s the door” said he smarmy and smug.
“You are insane. Why not pull the plug”?
Categories:
smarmy, funny,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
The Showing of The Ankle
Now dashing Sir Giles was a smarmy old geezer
Bold with the women, he knew how to please ‘em
Money no probs and endowed with good looks
It was easy to get into ladies good books
He cast his sights on one such maiden
Her fair curly hair was heavily laden
Her cheeks were like rose petals, soft and pink
Lips like moist cherries ready to pick
He decided to ask if she fancied a stroll
She nodded assent and put on her shawl
The day was windy, her dress was billowy
She succumbed to his charm with tresses flyaway
A look of coyness encouraged his ardor
He couldn’t wait to get her back to his parlor
The path was uneven and hard to traverse
Poor Nancy wore shoes unfit for the course
With fine strong hands he steadied her gait
A freak gust of wind caused her frock to inflate
She shrieked and screamed but it was much too late
To keep the dress in check, instead it flew up
Her rosy cheeks now a reddish pulp
He gasped in horror, she looked a real sight
His beautiful Nancy now not a delight
The hem of the skirt was right round her waist
Her frilly bloomers were not to his taste
But worse he saw her ankles and legs
Mottled with veins, ungainly old pegs
Like trunks and all covered with hair
Nancy looked down and started to stare
At the feet of Sir Giles which made him glare
He’d forgotten his socks, it was plain to see
She started to titter with excited glee
At the finest ankles she had ever beheld
Eyes affixed she continued to marvel
The man with (not from) fine ankle in view
To show one’s ankle was indeed taboo
Categories:
smarmy, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Try a brisk walk at night,
Igniting fire through ice,
It might burn, bite or beat you,
But you'll swear it feels nice.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Stare back at a stranger,
If their look starts to burn,
You'll notice their angst,
Once they know it's your turn.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Don't reach to extinguish,
Your ignited tobacco,
Across dinners or drinks,
As ashes fall in de facto.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Two drunks at a bar,
If smarmy, cheap males,
Will cease to exist,
By all mammals or females.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
If you guzzle or sip,
It goes down just the same,
And the only true difference:
The length of your game.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Don't drink and drive,
You can't go very far,
Because the door you can't open,
Psst, isn't your car.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Have sex with a friend,
Maybe two, three or four,
If you don't, someone might,
And next time, they'll ignore.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ask Marco, wine guru,
If it tastes good or bad,
The next you select,
You'll ferment, just a tad.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
If you smoke on the job,
Remember to render,
The air, clean and free,
Before returning to sender.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When two lesbians chat,
They display their demeanor,
Without reference or rapture,
For your decadent wiener.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Pouring more than you drink,
Is considered a virtue,
Because reversing osmosis,
Can only just hurt you.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
If you're gay and you know it,
Show those not, some respect,
Keep it reverent and subtle,
Spare us all when erect.
(12/30/01)
Categories:
smarmy, drink, philosophy, wisdom,
Form:
Rhyme
----paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11,
Categories:
smarmy, drink, drug,
Form:
Free verse
Outside the sanctum, clenched teeth, tension,
a sense of being spun slowly, in comical ocean drift
Bobbed cork barely able to rein my orientation.
Luckily, current flux of haphazard happening flapped
a variable vantage.
Blown as though by silk hankie butterfly blessing
launched under lead light detail dragonfly wing
Inside the sluice.
tender seagrass arms greet me, surprise caressed
Silky entry to a tepid tub, a calm community
of smug inner sanctum club members, afloat.
Blind to bedlam, their faces automatically accepting
Smarmy, aloof, knowing the code
Clicked into correct holding pattern
Galvanized now among the longed for,
unlocked passage
Boasts a right angled me, porthole refuge
Catatonic sanctum immune to struggle
Bay of steady abundance
Top step mission for admission somehow granted mine
Spotlight shon on my cloned social demeanor,
Meticulously honed modesty of highbrow gallery.
24th February
Written for Contest: Gateway
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
smarmy, allusion, analogy, appreciation, art,
Form:
Free verse
Possessing pure skepticism
allows me
to carry an air of longevity
Having to breathe in
false utterances,
the words of mendacious men
I could never trust
If you be at the opposite end
on the thought spectrum
of visible dust
Then persuade yourself
if you must
That everything is peachy keen;
because an oval echo,
from a yellow enamel orifice,
placebo grin said so
Keep pulse listening
to the dunce reverberations
that smarmy gloat
Si, I do verily distrust that locust sound
every grimy vocal whit
As the green devouring wheeze abound,
grim reaper facts exist
So, Covid yourself
if you must
That none of the dying coughing is truly real,
because an ivory pair of coffin eyes
opaque hide behind a green curtain shade ill
There’s 19 different wavy versions:
Flagellated ear-rant vials of vapor duplicity
Inhale the infectious bah humbug,
give a callous shrug with an air of morbidity
Convince yourself
to believe a lie
of paper sawdust,
if you must
As for me,
the leper words of lecherous men,
I will always
contagiously distrust
Categories:
smarmy, allusion, feelings, psychological, word
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Paper people frayed blowing scattered
Dilapidated faces of stucco and brick
Mumblings of drivel media jargon
While I sketched my eyes with skyline scrapes
Of tomorrow
Televisions smarmy ooze
A toxin injected with neon deception
Voices droning inconsequential clamor
Between shallow breathes of saccharined guile
While I paint my eyes in landscaped snippets
Of yesterday
Moments will mirror lies whispered in ears
A manufactured beauty of unneeded necessities
Singing radio tunes of superior society’s chaos
Spirits dipped in engineered sorrow
While I pencil my eyes with pieces of sky
Of discovery
I escape this modern world...
Categories:
smarmy, imagination, introspection, life, time,
Form:
Imagism
I once met a lady from Killarney
Her tendencies leaned toward the smarmy
Wore the briefest of shorts
Couldn’t hide her big warts
But, she could handle the Irish army.
Written April 5, 2021
Categories:
smarmy, humor, humorous,
Form:
Limerick