Best Tub Poems
This tub is filled with different words that float in my life
Most are still here because of my sweet loving wife
She takes such good care of me every single day
That is the reason these words never float away
Without her I would flow right down the drain
And all that would do is cause more pain
So I keep it filled that's my usual plan
Also jump into it whenever I can
Always bathing myself in love
Hoping that she will never
P the P
U L
L U
L G
Eyes closed, I sink in.
Warm scented flowers slowly
spin surface tension.
IT’S IN BLACK AND WHITE BUT SOON IT WILL TURN INTO COLOR
You cannot be a dog if you’re a cat
You cannot be an elephant if you’re a monkey
You cannot make a zebra into a rat
And you can’t be a racist if you’re a junkie
Now give me a minute and I’ll fluently explain
A white dude will kiss the ass of any African American who has dope to end his pain
When a white man is dope sick color and place of origin don’t matter
Fat or skinny
Short, tall,
They’ve got to love them all
All the ones who’d join an army of white men to rape, humiliate and hate the African American
and hang them on twenty foot American Flag pole
With humiliation their united goal
And not a one of them would look back
But then there are junkies who have to bow to black
Believe me, there’s a reason they are selling dope
They got three babies to feed and he can’t find work
How can he get a job when he’s vying with someone lily white
Well, that ain’t right
Pulling the feathers off helpless doves
But if that dove be black and carries in his beak not a branch but half a pound of pure virgin
white heroin
Suddenly the dove flies once more
And that’s why more African Americans are forced to deal dope or become a whore
Because welcome to America African
So here’s how to eliminate racism and the rowdy ones who shoot and mean to kill
Get every white man in America hooked on heroin and suddenly he becomes subservient to his
master
Not the dope
But the African American he beseeches to sell him some stuff
The black man says “no” just to make whitey’s life tough
That’s why a white junkie cannot hate a black man because of his religion or race
And believe me that junkie is going to be humble and treat every black dope dealer with grace
Face to face
And that’s how to rid America of racism and it’s rhetoric
Because white men will tongue kiss a black dealer if that white man is dreadfully dope sick
© 2011.….Phreepoetree
true hot tub freedom
rarely get that in this life
i WILL treasure this!
I'm singing in the tub, just singing in the tub.
What a glorious feeling to scrub-a-dub-dub.
Just me in my bath, with bubbles galore.
I don't even mind if they spill on the floor.
I've a smile on my face as the stress flows away.
Great way to relax at the end of a day.
The record plays on as small candles glow.
Dark chocolate on hand and a glass of Pinot.
All the aches melt away as I lay back and drift.
Best room in the house, as a bath's a true gift.
I don't need a lot, and my small tubs just right.
To help me unwind and sleep through the night.
I see North Africa
Through a little girl’s eyes
Continental ignorance
Stagnant in their reflection
Oppression
Like sinuous flames
In the heat of their arid deserts
I see America
With its once prolific economy
One man
It tumbled all
Two elections – “it’s all your fault!”
Teetering precariously, waiting…
For Obama to hold it together
I see Europe
Where art thou now?
Hiding like politicians – fools they are
Come out, come out
Where ever you are
Bush needs his poodles
Ha Ha Ha!
You’re all in this together
Manipulating each other
Pretending to need the UN more than the other
Who’s ruling the UN Bush or its general secretary
Britain cannot criticize, they ruled the League of Nations
You’ll never step up to the plate
And be manly enough
To take the blame for the world’s disastrous fate.
I'm a little silly boy hanging in the tub
Scrub, scrub, scrub got to wash away all the ketchup from when my dad becomes the hulk.
Mom came in and saw the ketchup water turning red she she said I hope this isn't my baby boys final waterbed.
Then laughed and left.
My mama mrs. G is silly and playful but she didn't make no tea.
I got a little tired and fell asleep, the water filled my lungs and I couldn't make peep.
then my momma came in and said guess I was right . LOL XD. little did she know I was very thirsty. Slurp Slurp Slurp.
sitting in a hot tub looking at the view
waiting for you
to come home
my mind tends to roam
knowing that it will be a few more days
i am missing all of your unique ways
this big ole house is not the same
my body feels limp and oh so lame
i wanna call you every hour on the hour
i never thought a woman could possess so much power
i guess i am loving you the more i miss you
i feel the permanence of happiness everyday when i'm with you
i do not care if i cramp up or my skin peels
it does not compare to how your thick and warm body feels
i guess i am becoming quite the softy in my old age
since you came into my life you heat up every cold page
now here i am all whipped and missing your pretty presence
i am loving the feeling of being caught in your reverence
i am now goofily smiling while humming a cheesy tune
i then suddenly whisper 'baby please come home soon'
sitting in a hot tub looking at the view
naked, warm, and inspired....waiting for you
"RUNNING FROM RAIN BUT SITTING IN A TUB"
she said she loved me
and asked me to be patient.
today was the first day in
two years I deliberately
didn't message her to show
her I have patience.
to know you are hated with a
passion greater than a
thousand suns is to know the
full reality of a woman back
into her city.
I almost took a knife to my
fingers.
I wrote messages, erased
them, wrote new messages and
erased those too.
you never learn the power of
SEND until you can't push it
anymore.
she's on my mind every minute
of the day and in that image
I see her laughing next to
me.
I crossed her mind once and
in that image I disappeared.
who am I kidding though?
there wasn't a time I was on
her mind today.
she took everything away from
me and for someone who is in
love it's a torment unlike
any other.
your slow murder is going as
planned but please, make it
happen while I sleep instead
of while I live.
she said she loved me and
asked me to be patient.
the last message I wrote to
her, I told her I loved her.
the last message she wrote to
me, she told me she loved me.
I’m living off that for now.
she knows my schedule and the
thought of her showing up for
the night keeps a light on.
today was the first day in
two years I deliberately
didn't message her to show
her I have patience.
it didn’t feel right but I
know it made her happy.
today, I learned self-control
by a lake watching ducks
swim.
I hope she knows what she's
doing.
By: Chicano Eddie
In the cold tub, at ten-thirty in the morning, I float like a wreck after a week of drinking and gambling,
My body trembles, my mind is a dense fog, when suddenly the phone rings like a bell in an empty church.
A young voice, a folk singer, tells me she has kicked out her boyfriend, his clothes flying out the window like lost birds,
I explain the cycle of love, a mad carousel of closeness and separation, a song endlessly repeating in the heart of time.
She asks if I want to hear her new song, and I, naked and wet, sit on the edge of the couch like on the edge of life's abyss,
My thoughts are as dirty as the bathwater, but I laugh at her funny lyrics, an old and tired clown's mask.
I tell her I like it, a white lie like the foam of the whiskey I later swallow, an antidote for my poisoned soul,
I promise to keep in touch, but the words are as empty as my pockets after a day at the racetrack, where luck deserted me again.
Six hours later, I am poorer by five hundred dollars, the money evaporated like my hopes for a better future,
I approach the phone, a tempting serpent of communication, but I leave it untouched, no one wants to hear a loser’s complaints.
The radio plays a sad song, the perfect mirror of my weary soul, defeated by my own inner demons,
The darkness of the bedroom swallows me, and I sink into it like a sea of regrets and madness, a castaway of my own life.
I lie in bed and stare into the void, lost in the labyrinth of my own mind, a Minotaur trapped in his own chaotic creation,
The thoughts spin like racehorses on an infinite racetrack, without a winner, without an end, just an eternal and futile race.
I am once again madly bound, caught between the walls of harsh reality and shattered dreams, a prisoner of my own choices,
A poet of despair, a singer of failure, a master of self-destruction in this crazy world that spins without me.
I am standing in
the laundry tub
thinking
as I look out
the window
something is wrong
with this picture
that you now
have of me........... ?
It is a question
of a created
image
and the perceived
consequences
It is a reference to
the Christmas approaching
yet again
and
as we ponder and
get caught up in
the hurricane of
end of season activities
parties, functions
buying presents
organizing holidays
booking accommodation
checking cars, boats, caravans....... ?
We block out
eliminate
the real reason
for all this
mayhem
Jesus Christ was born
to save us from
all this....... ?
Still standing in
the laundry tub
one foot on the ladder
the other in the tub
to finish painting this
window
of opportunity
this rare raw but real moment
where heaven comes to earth
in this moment where
eternity is
and it really is
graciously given
for all of humanity
Now my foot is getting wet
the tap is dripping..... ?
It will all wash out
as we are cleansed
in the laundry tub
of Christmas.
paper coffee cup in the bath tub
perilous vessel
my tattoo, my nipples
landscape of my body
(the) humble temple
my essential truths are few
but i lay them at your feet,
my burdens into your heart
seeming smaller in that vastness
i can offer you myself
no more
but no less either
this i commit to permanence,
my permanence
my own pale ritual
jetted tub feels good
when the world's light is cut off
and nothing matters
Wet and warm it goes,
Water swiftly flows,
Somewhat deep,
Floating feet,
Slowly slip below.
You leave me for a spell,
My hearts races like hell,
Can’t relax,
You come back,
That bikini sure looks swell…
The mere sight of your curves,
Tests my battered nerves
Bathed in heat,
And touches sweet
Swaying, dancing, swerve…
Passion gently sung,
Your eyes forever young,
This gentle ride,
We feel inside,
I pray it’s never done.
We ride the sea of blue,
as the wind blew.
Mounds of white grew,
it is soap not glue.
Have you meet the three men?
Bill is a writer with a pen,
John is with businessmen,
Tom likes to watch TV in his playpen.
Three men in a tub,
plus one child in for a scrub.
They belong to a club,
the bath time dub-dub.