Best Trap Poems
Imagine my surprise
she was from outer space
I never would have known
by looking at her face
She had that Rocket Body
with those oh so perfect curves
Her voice was mighty sweet
and she had exquisite toes
I wanted to make her happy
by listening to her needs
She said "come to my garden,
wont you plant those earthly seeds?
When she started to undress
all I could say was ooh la la
My friends said I'd be lucky
to become her kid’s pa pa
My zipper it was broken
In her hand it began to freeze
I really wanted to escape
but she had me on my knees
It’s true she had set her trap
my broke fly was just desert
Yes if she had opened it
I’m convinced it would have hurt
It seems my human nectar
would keep her skin elastic
As I gazed upon her face
I watched it crack like plastic
So I ran away screaming
from this ancient alien surprise
Thankfully I wasn’t crushed
With those lucious Venus thighs
For Anthony Slauzen's Ancient Alien Contest
Written January 6, 2018
You sockdologizing old man-trap long decayed
where claws curl tight in dust and brittle bone
your lies are hyenas dancing in the flame
their jaws a rattle tearing flesh to stone
their laughter cracks the silence and the name
of truth that bleeds until the world has grown
as hollow as the bones they gnaw upon
each tooth a dagger that breaks the heart to dawn
beneath your skin a hunger spills and swells
its teeth are rust its eyes a fevered glow
it gnashes bone until the broken tells
of sins that fester deep where no one knows
your hollow self a wind that pulls and wells
the hunger of a lion’s endless throes
and in your voice a low and raspy cry
that cracks the earth and cracks the brittle sky
beneath the skin your hunger splits the bone
its grasp a vice that crushes what it seeks
the stars fall silent cold and overthrown
their light consumed in frantic, bloodstreaked streaks
the air is thick with death and poisoned stone
where hunger howls beneath the shadowed peaks
yet still in your trap the pulse of truth will grind
a seed that's sown then left to twist and rise
your walls of lies are dust beneath the weight
of hunger’s edge and all that once was wise
though still you chase the fading spark of fate
your fingers crushed beneath the weight of mind
from soil once cursed where hate was built to last
the truth will rise unbroken and unmasked
for lies may hunt but truth though torn and scarred
is cut deep and rips your sockdologizing heart trap apart
Throned green eyed rat in
golden trap of cheesy poo
he rules like a king
He almost said it, that one sweet word, but a moment lost it would not stay.
He reached for her hand, she lost in thought, pulled it back and looked away.
Was she the beauty he had married young, or an illusion from a fairy's joke?
Would the cold chill of the evening mist be waiting for him when he awoke?
Pain in his head and strain in his heart felt like a clock that was losing time.
Time had opened his eyes and he noticed that the long years had taken away her prime.
"Nothing in common" was too late to say for their paths took a divergent route.
Their anger was quiet and their words were sparse for they had nothing to talk about.
He almost said it, that one mean thing, "Perhaps we should go our separate ways".
He held his tongue, she gave a laugh, saying she'd be gone for at least five days.
He was glad she'd be gone and happier still that he would not have to take all her crap.
But the chill evening mist hanging over his head made him see he was caught in a trap.
If I were a mountain lion
I would've been wary and wise
back turned safely to the wall
watching with careful eyes
I would've been cautious, cagey
and on the lookout for lies
but instead I trusted blindly
and fell for your disguise
You were my blood relation
a tie that was said to bind
but when I hit my lowest low
you were the most unkind
You used me when convenient
drained resources, energy
exploited my better nature
and got the best of me
When others acted cruelly
telling lies and tearing me down
instead of you defending me
you disowned me all over town
You were the most insidious
sneaky, snarky snipe
proving true the back-stabbing
best-friend stereotype
But, at last I found you out
your cover fully blown
I watched you fall in your own trap
and left you there alone
It’s not for lack of intelligence
My inhibitor is on the fritz
A frontal lobe phenomena
I’m prone to gaffes and fits
My amygdalae are loaded
A hair trigger set to snap
Sometimes words escape me
Like rats outsmarting a trap
The man was dangling, kicking, scared,
His hooded blindness no relief;
The hangman coldly watched him die:
Now one less killer, one less thief.
When a know-it-all paints the wall
With your silhouette in excrement...
Do not engage the louse,
For a fly does not enter a closed mouth.
8/15/2019
At a spot of roadside, shaded
A predator on the prowl
Concealed itself and waited
for prey to run afoul…
Then, madly, with a dash,
It shot out from the thicket;
Nabbed one prey, in a *flash*
And slapped it with a ticket.
So you want more nice things!
Will your life have more meaning?
When you have more stuff, is it ever enough?
Don't you know that there's more,
to life, than keeping score,
of who has more things,
what joy does that bring?
Our days are numbered,
don't just fill them with slumber.
And just having fun,
doesn't mean that you've won.
Your life should have meaning,
a purpose in being.
Doing all these things is,
like trying to catch the wind.
song
Wind catchers don't know
which way to go.
Wind catchers don't find,
true peace of mind.
Wind catchers can't see,
the truth that sets them free.
Wind catchers climb ladders,
but, does their life matter?
Wind catchers die with more,
but, who's keeping score?
A simple life is the best!
John Derek Hamilton Feb 2, 2013 revised November 18, 2015
Each day foul critters infest our house
Though not by slipping in like a mouse
We just press a button
Or buy a subscription
To get news wrote or spoke by a louse
These creatures of the two legged kind
Try hard each day to persuade our mind
With sly information
That helps the causation
Of the falling apart of mankind
They tout the need for unearned welfare
Claim hard earned profits are so unfair
And granting amnesty
Is a good policy
Plus growing our debt is fine they swear
For those who work hard earning their way
Give what they can and put some away
Are sick of the slackers
Prodded by the backers
Whose aim is using half truths to sway
It’s hard to ignore those talking heads
But it’s not right to tear them to shreds
Yet there’s a solution
And with execution
We can spread liberty in their stead
We’ll put Obama pic’s and golf caps
Along with a taped speech that he yapped
In a human sized crate
Coz it’s time to create
A main stream media Have-A-Heart trap
Like it or not, these traps are humane
But anyways, we’ll have much to gain
So, once we have caught
All those who have brought
Disinformation causing brain drain
We’ll squeeze all of them in through a pipe
Along with politicians who hype
Irrationality
And immorality
Into a sphere of the livable type
In there they can tax to the extreme
And promote their harmful fairness schemes
But when they’re out of dough
They will lip read our NO!
Since their bubble is a sound proof dream!
I'm no good at setting clocks,
don't enjoy sending faxes
but if you'll bring your info,
I'll calculate your taxes.
I scream at my computer,
could take a hammer to it
but give me a tax problem,
I'll work my way through it.
Can't program my cell phone,
don't even want to bother.
I'm busy doing tax returns
for everyone's big brother.
Kids’ve joined the work force,
brought me their W-2's
wanting all their money back,
"Mom, see what you can do."
Now they own businesses
I'm preparing Schedule C's.
I want out of this trap,
I'm dying by degrees.
Grandkids’re growing fast,
beginning to earn dough,
and Grandma's growing old,
lazy, decrepit, and slow.
cfa ? 3/14/2010
I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING
BUT YOU BETTER SLOW DOWN
WE DON'T LIKE SPEEDERS
FLYING THROUGH TOWN
SPEED LIMIT HERE
IS THIRTY-FIVE
OFFICER PETE
HAS AN EAGLE EYE
YA AUGHT TO SLOW DOWN
TAKE IN THE VIEW
SEE WHAT OUR TOWN
HAS TO OFFER YOU
A BED AND BREAKFAST
JUST UP THE ROAD
WITH A POND OUT BACK
WITH TURTLES AND TOADS
WE HAVE A GROCER
WITH A PHARMACY
WE HAVE A HAIR CUTTER
BY THE NAME OF ELLIE
WE HAVE A GAS STATION
AND COFFEE SHOP
FILL UP YOUR TANK
AND HAVE A RED POP
WE HAVE A TOW TRUCK
AND A JAIL
WE HAVE NO PLACE
TO POST YOUR BAIL
YOU'LL WAIT TILL TUESDAY
TO SEE THE MAGISTRATE
HE WILL BE HERE
BUT OFTEN LATE
Of COURSE I am not in the least insecure
My selfish-image? You bet, peerless and pure
Negative thoughts I avoid
Paranoia? Null and void
But you were talking and pointing I am sure…
For Susan’s contest
There, parked in rows
like overused commas
or German prose
or mothballed bombers
lay ranks of rats
as if on drill,
but quite as dead
as vaudeville.
Someone had slit
each ventral hide
and pulled it back
to peek inside.
And there they lay,
flat on their backs,
guts on display,
paws pinned by tacks.
Ashamed, they were,
like party-crashers,
with gaping fur,
like little flashers.
Those organs, packed
so coral-fine,
would soon be hacked
by Class B-9.
Unseeing eyes
stared at the ceiling,
but woke in me
a fellow-feeling.
We’re all the same.
We want to live.
Why dish out blame?
Why bring a sieve,
sort sheep from goats,
grandly decide
who lives and dies?
To my distress,
those little guys
with upturned throats
and parted coats
were nothing less
than crucified.