Best Stiffed Poems
i do not have the power
to control what haunts
beneath night's sheets
nor the courage
to send them packing
from the depths
of my mind
nor the words
to bid them farewell
nor the freedom
to learn how
i am trapped
my mind
cries remembrance,
the apple of your eye
hides within
a bushel of pain
as a worm crawls
circles around my life
i long for a peck
from warm lips
not cold, stiffed
imperfect ones
like death's
my lips peel
beneath the folds
of rare smiles
and whispers
of words
from seeded pain
my soul
cries out
in silence
beneath the folds
of life
its bitter bite
and darkness
uncontrolled
I’ve not written to you for many years
Santa, I’m quite different from my peers
Not fancy or frilly like girly girls
And I don’t hanker for diamonds and pearls
Today I got the most terrible news
My muse abandoned me. She's on a cruise!!!
She’ll be sailing around the world for years
I'm bereft and can’t stem my salty tears
Oh Santa dear, please take pity on me
I need a skilled muse to write poetry
I’m heartbroken without her by my side
Could you bring one to me on this Yuletide
It would be the most perfect Christmas gift
Please tell me that this year I won't get stiffed!
~ ~ ~ ~
You may not have my name at this address
But Santa, it’s time for me to confess
I've been on your naughty list all this year
I'm the one who put Ex Lax in your beer
And I thought while you were stuck in my loo
I'd try to tempt you in my basque of blue
But you clutched your tummy. You looked quite sick
With loo roll in hand, you ran out so quick
You chastised me as you dribbled brown gloop
Said you’d seen my name at Poetry Soup!
You'd read my poems and you wouldn't be hard
With my dire style, I’m no threat to the Bard
Last Christmas was such a catastrophe
I apologise, will you forgive me?
~ ~ ~ ~
I’ve divulged to all how I’ve misbehaved
and beg the laxative mishap be waived
(You’ve not visited since I was a child
when my behaviour ran totally wild!)
I’ve taken my punishment on the chin
Bitter medicine swallowed for my sin
If you can find forgiveness in your heart
I will try my best to make a fresh start
Santa, please deliver just one present...
A new muse would make my life more pleasant
My old one left and she might not return
My pen is poised; for witty words I yearn
A contest win with Phillip Garcia
Would rekindle my poetic career!
From My Lips To Santa's Ears Contest
Sponsored by Phillip Garcia
10 syllables per line checked with How many Syllables
12-05-17
When Boehner invited Netanyahu to address Congress, the prez was miffed!
Congress didn't notify him and he whined, "By gawd! I was stiffed!"
Boehner smiled and said, "Sorry, Mr. Prez! This time you get short shrift!"
"Well, you'll never be invited to fly on Air Force One again!" he sniffed!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
===========================
May I please say before we start
that I am PERFECT for this part?
It's in my SOUL.
You might as well go lock the door,
cuz right here's what you're looking for.
I AM this role!
But why take chances? Just in case,
I've put plans B and C in place.
(So I'm not not stiffed)
Lets just say I have money, dear.
Who couldn't use a twenny here?
*wink*.... catch my drift?
Need more to prove that I'm no slouch?
Just show me to the casting couch.
THAT talent's free...
.........
.............
No - thank YOU, Sir!! When's best to call?
I just KNEW once you'd seen it all...
Oh............... You'll call ME...?
===========================
There was a stupid chap from North Shore
Who bought Viagra in fifty doses and more.
Confused respecting it function
He took more without compunction.
Now he has trouble exiting his front door.
The Jesus I grew up with was all about love.
Was all about being human.
Was all about contributing what he had.
Was all about encouraging others to contribute what they had
and everyone was so into figuring out how to contribute
they didn't worry about getting stiffed.
And everyone got what they needed
All were fulfilled.
In my mind
Jesus is occupying Wall Street
and hundreds of thousands of places
where humans dwell miserably
but not without hope.
Coffee-eyed hive sheet
Full cycle digits to hold
Slash stiffed in Orion
Out drinking with an
Australian girl I knew
We met her friend
Two days away
From inheriting a
Fortune
She insisted we sit down
Outside an Italian place
To eat
She ordered a bowl of
Gnocchi
First time I ever ate it
Two or three mouthfuls
Well wow
& the rich girl to be
Took off & stiffed us
With the bill
& I still eat gnocchi
& I still hate the rich
(On May 1 1960, at the very depth of the
Cold War, CIA pilot Gary Powers was shot
down over the central USSR. Here we are
imagining his conversation with a charge
d'affaires of the US Embassy. Powers
is threatening to go public on CIA
mismanagement and to tell all to the
Russians - the Igors and the Borises.
Powers died soon afterwards in a
helicopter crash.)
What's Thompson's game? He's sent a charge here?
He should have come himself. So, Mister Jinks,
I'm going to assume you're with the firm.
Tell you what happened? Why don't you tell me?
Okay, I didn't trash the Thunderbird -
but I was kinda busy, get my drift?
My face was pulling g's to beat the band
and if you knew the vehicle, you'd know
the seat ejects like bats fly outta hell -
explosive bolts. I'm falling vertically,
and spinning like a top, and if I get
alignments wrong by half an inch,
the console cuts my legs off when I spring.
So what? So this. I had things on my mind.
You want your secrets kept? So train us right.
Foresee contingencies.
The silver buck?
I chucked it. Threw it, as the chute came down,
but kept the pin. The Igors have it now.
Well fella, you got questions and to spare,
and I don't like the way they're shaping up.
Oh sure, you got your job to do. Me too,
remember? I'm the guy who got his ass
shot out the sky at sixty thousand feet!
I didn't buy the farm. Is that a sin?
Tell Langley I'm an Amish - what the hell?
I told them it's curare.
Get real, pal!
They may be Borises, but I won't have
some guy get stiffed because he pricked his thumb.
They'd find out anyhow. You bet I have!
I got more beefs than Texas. Pin 'em back.
Nobody thought it through, this turkey-shoot,
or what we'd do, dumb Joes like little ol' me
when Igor got us. Unprofessional!
Now bust your ass, and get me outta here.
When I get back, I'm gonna tell the world
how Langley hangs its fly-guys out to dry.
We got a First Amendment. Let 'em try!
How Not to Tip
A waitress at the Twisted Fish
Got a tip she did not wish
A tip like she had never seen
A plastic bag of methamphetamine
She call the cops who soon arrested
These “tippers” who were then drug tested
And found to be a wee bit high
Led off to jail bye and bye
Cops took the bag, the waitress’s miffed
She can’t believe that she got stiffed
Aborigines on horseback wading
Addicted to the wilderness they trek.
Through still waters where crocodiles are king,
Their horses chomping at the bits, stiffed neck.
Oh land, kangaroos and wombats grazing.
They seek thrills and thrive on adventures deck.
Two men fearlessly explore nature’s hand.
Knowing in their hearts, their future is grand.
© February 29, 2012
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: A Lil' Bit of Aus...
Sponsor Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
1.
Unfortunate for him
Without payment
The mortician feels
That he got stiffed
2.
He felt there was no spark
Left between them
So the electrician went out
And got buzzed
3.
Being alone another night
The butcher stayed home
And pounded his meat
"Saddo...Saddo...",she kept calling me,
Yeah,I was sad,
So I was named Saddo,
Flowers fell from highest branches,
Fruits fell from tall branches,
My days were full of worries and mess,
Series of bad occurrence,
Many that laughed with me,
Same see me and mock about what I've lost,
The blame is to be,
Toes stiffed in wet shoes distort,
I'm not pitied,
People to whom I exercised religiosity to,doesn't account me as to be tricked,
Mortgage at last have all my belongings outside the road,"Disgrace...disgrace...what a disgrace",
No one want to see the shadow of a race,
'Tom the finest',your end is someone's beginning,
Gone are the days when they use to call me a balloon,
I lacked nothing,...my name was a tool,
Is it a spell they've used on me?
"Join my fraternity,and you'll stand tall again",
Proposal comes in from friends and sympathisers vain,
Even my wife want me to avail myself to that,
Who is on my side to caution in fact,
Hope and trust in God is not allowing me to give up on gust,
Situations of life is ridiculing fast,
Which road should I pass?
A billionaire is now an outcast,
Every night I count the stars,
I see so many falling,
Who saw my star fall?
Who is ready to tell me everything?
People wowed only seeing me in bad condition,
Others to wonder of how this perdition came to being,
Hands are at a speed to raise sanction,
And based on the tenet They've written to me,
I prefer being down,
Dad died leaving me not even a pen,
Advice he gave,is shielding four whole men,
"Everything has its moment",so this agony is now demonstrating a fact,
Moving through a formless cloud,vainly does fowls in the air matters act,
Like an iceberg on fire,Slowly is the torment fading,
Hard work admitted me to chamber of wealth,
A short while,I'm outside here fenced by poverty belt,
"Funny...funny,clearly this story is funny",
Will my children also be left without a sheet of paper?
"If so will present the case,it maybe notched to grandpa,
A lineage",said softly to my youngest daughter,
Replies to me"Don't assume",
Words were lost inside room,
"Your consolation to me is not palliative",
Made that point fairly to a comparative,
One step that took me to thousand miles drown,
The same number of step left me down,
Closing myself in the coffin,
"Vanity is satisfying,but baseless",the mourner sobered in.
MY DECEMBER
My little guy, precious one,
Felt pushed aside, by those lived among
Didn’t know the role you should fit in,
But like a sport, you stiffed your chin.
I was always there, you in my prayer
My December
You dared to live, refused to be denied
Til all you dreamed of, slowly died.
But remained our son,
In the face of every one.
Was held so dear,
year by year,
My December
You carried a hurt, I could never heal,
I came to know the hurt you feel.
Your restless wait, for dreams restored,
stubbornly withstood the cross you bore.
Come now with me,
be healed be free,
My December
New healing now comes from the Father of Light,
Straightened the crooked, made all wrong right.
The terror by night that you remember,
Nightmares of March, August, September,
Our God with me,
He’ll raise us high,
Our tears to laughter,
joys for tear we cried
Forgive and live,
for forever you are my,
My December
In the Land of the Lost, on my floor;folks crazed
A wod jane does yell trash in flush room.; felt miffed
My nerves tense, on this floor -I’m on edge;feel brash
Here 8 months there is no hope in sight; feel stiffed
There’s an old bag here that bums for cash; she’s trash
How to be sane ? I then write poems; do art
Strange sounds comes when my roomy does sleep-old old pfart
I tell him stop it please I crash hard; mind dazed,
Need more cash to live here.I say your; bucks due.
Funds, ask your kin be nice small talk will help you
First two floors and 3 west folks seem not so bad.
I hope the other wards are fairer, am glad,
Nice things to state about the Vigi,caff great.
I like tuna sarnies all dressed please;first rate
I am finished with this poem with much heart .