Best Tanked Poems
Why are my searches drawing blank
I just searched for Constance La France
It simply tanked ' Is cancellation afoot?
Are there gremlins in 'the soup' its moot'
So many time in months of thrice
I've sought out my peers yet (no dice)
Michael Tor I can't find your door
Andrea Deitrich pangi Bill Baker and more
To top the lot my contest launched
I couldent find it? Friends so staunch.'
anxiety, care, corruption, creation, destiny, environment, rainforest,
CHERRY-PITS AND FOGGY AIR©
Miseries mount on high
If only I had that again
Too little too late too much
Life’s no bowl of cherries
And the rain fell hard today!
Skies sheathed in dust and smog
Pollutes the once green terrain below
The ‘fresh’ air demotes to shallower breaths
Intakes ‘tanked’ to partings of out rage
The taste of ‘bottled’ flavoured water rises
The ‘breaths’ of air when bottled will increase
And next it will be one costly ‘purification’ deed
For those left and known to mankind.
Blink awake, get up,
Brew reviving cup,
Breathe each fuelling sup,
Then to the cleansing waters go,
Inhale the essence slow,
Awash with ebb and flow,
Purified head to toe,
Mystery of water empower
At this early hour
The mind comes to in the shower,
Blink awake, get up,
Brew reviving cup,
Breathe each fuelling sup,
Caffeine shot number two,
Day ahead, so much to do,
A wish for time to see it through,
And blessings of love sent to you,
The click of heat making toast,
And Marmite spread I love the most,
Picking up the morning post,
More bills, the same old ghost,
Blink awake, get up,
The third reviving cup,
Breathe each fuelling sup,
In sacred words they always say,
Like ghouls demanding I must pay,
Already the mind has gone astray,
What a way
To start the day
Time for coffee number four,
As from pot to cup I deftly pour,
The darkness I adore,
And now I must head out the door,
The working day is calling me,
I’m ready, tanked with coffee,
And in my mind I’m always free,
With a note of love from me to thee
This ritual ends and blessed it be!
Form: Skeltonic Rhyme
The Hustler
sun up ~ to sun .... down
racking ~ stacking ~ busting ...balls
cues to leaving .... fast
The Homeless
seven ~ eleven
willing to work ... for some .. food
tips .... appreicated
The Streak
rampage in the street
running ~ butt ~ naked ... again
got ~ caught ~ by ~ the .... fuzz
S.S. I.
going ~ down ~ the ... drain
dwendling ~ future .... savings
what will our kids .... have
Money
wart of all evil
here a buck and there a buck
out pocket it goes
Heat Of The Night
under swollen moon
two lovers conjoin in kiss
hooting escalates
Free Bird
raptured or captured
theres alot to squak about
when comes to freedom
Tanked Up
over lips through gums
look out stomach here it comes
fifth of gin and rum
Gas Wars
big pot of chili
causing quite the explosion
between puckered legs
Hell's Fury
theres a storm coming
and it's right under your feet
better start running
Poet Destroyer
menacing poet
with only lovely reviews
shine on harvest moon
Long Winded
blah ~ blah ~ blah ~ blah .... blah
garble ~ garble ~ garble ..... gosh
will - this - ever .... end
The Dead Zone
six feet or over
pushing up only daises
rest in peace Daddy
One weekend I decided to do some camping
Along with good friends
and go horseback riding.
Cooking away on the open pit
not my thing, I must admit.
So I decided to have a ride
In the middle of the night
Upon my beautiful horse
Tanked full of beer-
fearing no recourse.
Into the woods we sped
Not able to see, and quite tipsy
I thought it a blast
Till I hit that tree
on the ground I went
almost broke a knee.
Miles away from camp,
Thank the Lord my horse stayed
with me.
Together, following her track
I limped back.
One thing I must make clear,
Never ride a horse drinking beer!
Honorable Mention in the " Light is On, but Nobody Is Home" contest
by Paula Swanson
A. Green
Happy. Genial. Merry. Jolly
Blottoed, blasted, etched and blitzed
Mellow, foggy, hazy, squiffy
Tipsy. Tiddly. Brahms and Liszt
Dazed, zombied, tanked-up, trollied
Ganted, gubbed, guttered
Bladdered, blathered, leathered, plastered,
Sozzled, sloshed, scuttered
Hammered, battered, caned, mangled
Spannered, mullered. Half-cut, lashed
Twisted, warped, slammed, wasted
Wrecked, ruined. Munted, trashed
Liquified, marinated, juiced, sauced,
Steamed, pickled, fried
Cabbaged, mashed, cooked, baked
Boiled, stewed. Pie-eyed
Stinking. Howling. Pole-axed, floored
Under the influence. Off one's woo
Steampigged, badgered, ratted, goosed,
Clobbered. Lairy. Boogaloo
3 sheets to the wind. Away with the fairies
Under the table. Tight as a tick.
Ankled, wellied, trousered, legless,
Bevvied, swizzled, pot-sick.
One over the eight. Out nibbling the grape.
Rosy. Rummy. Poggled.
Jober as a sudge. Laughing at the carpet.
Seeing double. Boggled.
Lubricated, oiled, pixilated, ploughed
Intoxicated, inebriated. On the grog
Wobbly, jungled, off to the races
Lit up, shot down. Cocked as a log
As a lord, as a piper, as a fiddler, as a poet,
As a newt, as a monkey, as a skunk
As a sailor, as a mouse, as a pig, as a fart
Muddled. Fuddled. Or just plain drunk
Words and experiences, many of us share
And I'm sure there's a few that I've missed
But while some get "tired and emotional"
I just prefer to get…
The Moby Dick Reunion
One hundred fifty nine years have passed
Since Melville published his novel.
Seven hundred twenty pages in length
Some say it was much too nautical.
All of the characters have gathered.
They’re going to have a reunion.
Rumor has it, they say, that Herman himself
Is making a huge revelation.
Ishmael is the first to arrive,
And it’s he who was telling the story.
That’s only right, in the book he survived,
He deserves to get all the glory.
Fedallah and Moby were next in line,
Just in from the Dr. Phil Show.
Their friendship had grown a lot lately.
The harpooner was psychic you know!
When he and Phil studied the big fishes mind,
They found out his reason for anger.
The fact that he was albino
Had burned in his mind like a canker.
Ahab, it seems, was equally mean,
And caused a lot of his stress.
He’d cornered the whale with harpoon boats,
And offered no way for egress.
Moby’s life has been changed forever.
He’s hitched to a really cute killer.
She’s working part time at Sea World,
Seems they needed a sub for their “killer”.
The pub where they met was named Starbucks,
In honor of the owner.
The first mate was rich as a pirate.
He could even afford to buy toner.
Then through the door entered Ahab,
With a prosthesis and brand new pipe.
He finally learned to be happy,
And enjoyed a simpler life.
With him was Herman Melville,
A screenplay under his arm.
One thousand pages he’d written,
About whalers who lived on a farm?
The crew didn’t give their attention.
By now, they were tanked up on rum.
He said he was going to Hollywood,
And if they were smart they would come.
But Ahab and Moby were sobbing.
Tears falling into their mugs.
After all of their trials they found friendship
In the bottom of a jug.
Herman begged them to go make the movie.
But, their lives were happier now.
They all had families to care for,
And no urge for taking a bow.
It seems that while Melville was groveling,
Pip and Ishmael had stolen the play.
They put it in Queequey’s coffin,
And watched it float slowly away.
That was the end of the reunion.
They all went home that night,
Happy with the realization,
That their lives were all just right!
New World Order; Psychological Warfare
Split minds, souls at unrest; UFOs or USOs?
Wealth, lost in the wash, fear-mongering media,
indoctrinated control. Listen here, listen there.
Do what you are told. Lost, chock full of filth.
Spiking truth with lies, despised, crying,
"why, oh why?" Crypting minds dime by dime.
Dollars sought, tanked to banks, cashless society,
rank the ranks. Medicated troubles and crooked
ways chronicled day by day - cognitive dissonance.
Demonic subliminals, camera ubiquitous,
oblivious. Rhythm rocker, tossed into sleep
while cryptids creep. War crimes, cries of faith
as the world is hypnotized.
New World Order; Psychological Warfare
Corrupted governments gave a virus and masked
our faces; visions and viles, crimes of the time,
facial recognition. Our world grows darker, ripping
out hearts, and drinking adrenochrome.
Caught and sold in catalogs; Wayfair, beware.
Dead doctors and speakers of truth. Devils lead
the way into caves. Graves are full, ghosts are real.
Androgenous has sex appeal. Agendas creating
slaves digging mountains for golds. Bullets and
bombs thrown by protectors. Secrets burned by
religions, cults normalized like pigeons, spectacles
of the steeple filled with sheeple.
Unseen skies covered with chem trails.
Forced messages leaked through your ears by
HAARP and DARPA. We Trust in those who wind us up.
All we have left is blind.
New World Order; Psychological Warfare
Grasp for the clutch,
(clutching on automatic
chances)
clench my jaw –
am I clutch?
no luck.
I gasp! (gassed)
the gas-tank tanked.
Tired I try,
but floppy tires
blunder
like a drove
of drunken thunderbirds.
“Gear up guy! Get some get-go!”
I exhaust, idle
and stammer,
grass spattered,
paint chips scattered,
brakes broke
and steering hammered -
destination
is going,
rear-view gone.
Turn my wheels (or my keys, at least).
Just don’t give me a brake.
LIQUID THREAD
reed thin sluggish thread
moves toward poolmouth
an oblique dry wet that
slithers into my head
thick tiredtongue paste
watered down dissolves
sweat turns—then returns
a burning corrosive taste
carefrayed threadbare
shrinking ripples
righteous writes
unpoemed unpictured
on white page glare
I, Venus a hotred
Orange
blistered planet
blimp and wave
in day mourning
pools
riddling
8
Syllables
Or
Metaphors
Of
6
tablets blank hues
swallow gushrush
waterfalls
tanked up rancid
overflows
sounds and sights
psychewit waiting
to release
Streaming liquid thread
Screaming in my head
© Kim van Breda—18 September 2015
A baseball team hard to follow
Failures really tough to swallow
Many problems from stem to stern
Fans' frustration in a slow burn
Managers don't know what to do
To get the Dodgers out of the blues
Too close to Hollywood it would seem
Many distractions bad for a team
Ahead by eight games in '62
Seemed just too good to be true
Sandy Koufax leading the way
Then bad luck came into play
Injury knocked Koufax out
Dodgers lost all games in a rout
With the Giants in a tie
Hard to accept the reason why
Fell to the Giants in a playoff
Series hopes sadly lost
After '62 the Dodgers were back
Won two Series with Sandy Koufax
In the '70s the Dodgers tanked
Dropped two Series to the hated Yanks
FOX bought team in '98
I'm now less certain about their fate
Team sold again in '04
How could a fan ask for more
Team again sold to folks in LA
Had big money with which to play
Tried to buy their way to the top
Bought three players from the Sox
One was named A. Gonzalez
A gifted player with great prowess
Two others were hurt and all done playin'
That's all about this I'm gonna' be sayin'
Astros beat Dodgers in '17
Houston cheated it would seem
Signs were stolen by that team
Oh my heavens that was mean
Lost to Boston in '18
Another Series left in waiting
It's true some Series the Dodgers have won
But with bad luck we had less fun
Hey what are their chances this year
Dodger front office says never fear
Same old story I frown and sneer
They're too short on pitching
I need a beer
Wait a minute
2020 Just happened
Dodgers won Series
I can't stop laughin'
Hurray, hurray
There's so much to cheer
My joy for this team
Now crystal clear
Faith in the Dodgers
Returns to this fan
Lots to celebrate
That's my plan
Inflation rages
Outdoing wages
Stock Market tanked
Stench from DC stank
Fed increases spending
High interest on homes, impending
The answer in November comes
Do not re-elect the same bums
9/29/2022
decidedly despicable dastardly diabolical Dan
doing dismal, dour, demeaning deeds to frantic Fran
Forever frenzied fickle Felicity found her man.
Morose monochromatic Mel molding Typan.
Trixie totally tanked telephoning Tim’s tan.
Smart smidgets sensed silliness by name of Nan.
Nefarious, neatnik Nan ended up with diabolical Dan.
Not the average insolent
little boring sympathy beggar
Keep your expensive acceptance
I prefer my own
I can smoke my own ego in a pipe without having to taste yours.
The indecent part of me likes to battle it out
knowing only that nothing you say can
turn me over
or turn me out
the one thing I have over you is control
I roll on and you roll back
I took the trash to the corner and found
myself smiling in your puddle of drool...
so much panting for one little day...
all one way
all the same
all cuts down to one small thing...
attention gained the wrong way
stays the wrong way
and the faces people make at you
will keep you tanked and suspicious
and you never come around
never see that it's all you
all your misery is you
all your suicidal threats
all of your singing and dancing...
you are the only one who hears the music
but we all watch you dance
and it's all in your mind
because no one is watching you
and no one hears the music
it's blown your mind...
how best to keep friends...
how best to be
it's blown your mind that you can be anything but what you are....
take it with you...
pinch it all you want
I don't think you will wake up
I don't think you will ever be aware.
Hold on...it's going to be years before you finish dying
but you started so long ago.
Such surrender
to the insignificant
such devotion to the world of superficiality
and false identity
and all for what?
to come across the way you never meant to.
who's that girl.
you don't even know yourself.
Her daughter did pour, and then more, of wine.
The goblet was tall and she filled it fine.
The glass sort of tipsy —
Well-tanked was the gypsy.
A cop cut her off when she crossed the line.
12/26/2018
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton