Best Whipping Boy Poems
Sharp The Edges, Of Poet's Pen Turned To Fight,
( New Dawn,Third Battle And Final Slash ) -
Part Three
From within, a gifted calm brings a tranquil peace
to poet's soul that searched and found a new lease
and with foresight decided to take pen to write,
about shadowy black beast, that stabs in dark of night.
Now massive strength that old poets's pens often yields
succors heart and grants victory on battlefields
new ink hones blade, gifts poetic words that destroy,
that savage beast that sought to make a whipping boy!
From poetry comes a Light that, gives true powers
which destroys wicked beasts, lurking in dark towers
by shining wisdom from classic poetic verse,
to cut those, that such illuminations do perverse.
Lo! Be aware what may be found seeking true Light
Sharp the edges, of poet's pen turned to fight!
Robert J. Lindley, 10-19-2019
Sonnet, ( The Third And Final Battle-- Part Three)
Conclusion- Three Part Series..
Note: This is the last to be written on this subject in regards to
this specific incident. I offer this series for the hiding fool,
the worthless opponent to come on and try to refute.
nuff said... old poet, Still writing...
(Talking to the mirror)
I done just about had enough of you,
I know what's coming next,
so get it over with quick, will you
I'm not giving up my lunch money again,
and no more of your homework gets done by me
Today is my personal holiday,
starting today, I'm living bully-free
(Down at the schoolyard)
Ain't got nothing for you today,
aw, you don't like the sound of my words
Them days are over and through,
so give me what bullies love to give nerds
I don't mind that you're a girl,
and that you got things at home troubling you
You look so mean when your cheeks turn red,
now go on and do what you gotta do
Ball up your fists, and be the sick twist
everybody say you are,
and give me the beating your daddy gave you
Are you ready to give me a knuckle kiss,
you're itching to so far,
give me the same puffy lips your mama gave you too
Aw, I hurt your feelings ...
remember now, bullies don't cry
Just gonna have to keep it all in,
and tell yourself over and over the same lie
That your parents love you,
they just show it in a different way
That they're gonna treat you better
when you get well one day they say
But this ain't about you,
today is my holiday
I'm no longer your whipping boy ...
now are we gonna fight,
or are we gonna play
Look, I wanna be your friend,
help you deal with the pain in your life
I can see you're twisting in the wind,
ain't nobody ever treated you nice
So you can stay a bully if you want to,
but your days of beating on me are through ...
I don't believe you're a sick twist,
I may be wrong
Or else why did you swing your fist just now,
and purposely miss?
There's no sentiment in business
loyalty counts for nothing at all
my employers couldn't care less
but there's no chance that I'll crawl
I'm nobody's whipping boy to hell with them
they won't ware me down, no surrender
these people are wrong, I'm not scum
I will protect my rights, I will always remember
the thank you mate, I owe you one
can you stay late, change your holiday,
now those favours are forgotten all gone
but we're really sorry to let you go, they say
your experience has no consequence now
things have changed, we have progressed
this is wrong, this is not right I can't allow
this kind of oppression, or am I obsessed,
just yesterdays man on the scrap heap,
all the hard work that they got so cheap.
Someone or something, replaceable.
Composed 20/03/2017.
Entered in never going to drag me down contest,
Sponsored by Julie Leigh Rodeheaver.
All I had to do was love her with all my heart and it would be OK.
I clung to her to save her life, as she wriggled.
Love, a propped up cardboard cutout,
Trust, her whipping boy
Hope, a bloodied and bruised up mess, with its eyes swollen shut.
A flame once burned, my ray of hope; and she placed it beneath her spoon.
March 2011
I’m the cries of the hopeless in the night
I’m the darkness in every man’s soul
I’m the reason that you give up the fight
And surrender all your control
I’m despair
I kill from the inside out
Despair
Fill you with nothing but doubt
I’m despair
Welcome me in
I’m the sponge sucking up your happiness
I’m the one that takes all of your joy
I leave behind me only emptiness
And make you my whipping boy
I’m despair
I kill from the inside out
Despair
Fill you with nothing but doubt
I’m despair
Thanks for letting me in
Welcome to my hell
Poured from purloined bottles of poison,
Whose drip is but a crimson crash,
Of whisky washing my lips which moisten,
With a humid dew of drowning cash.
From the pocket pours the absinthe green;
Tourmaline trash tossed atop the torrent,
Which washes over with drunken mondegreen,
Slurred words whispered with neither wish nor warrant.
To drown in glass filled with vicious avoirdupois,
Whose weight is watched by the wrap of a whipping boy,
Is but death by pint and shots of strife,
Sipped away in a sinking sea of life.
Spare me of my liquor lips,
Whose tongue-licked wish is sips,
Of that which drowns me drunk,
As I, the captain, sink in a ship I've sunk.
New Year’s Resolutions
By Rick Rucker
This year, instead of cutting fat,
I think I’m going to aerobicize my cat,
When I hear the revelers’ sounds,
I can be happy for her lost pounds.
I think this might become a craze,
Sweep the nation in a few days!
No more loss, and privation,
Finally, a happy, guilt free nation!
Sort of like a whipping boy,
Him with suffering, you with JOY!
I’m going to have to look around,
What can I take from my hound?
Something will occur to me,
This year, a better dog he’ll be!
People are funny when you deprive your kids,
Boy, they really flip their lids!
I guess I’ll have to stick to pets,
They seem, by far, the safer bets!
Whipping Boy
A whipping boy
Along with bully pulpit
Are both weird at times.
Jim Horn
I am not your whipping boy
nor heaven's slave
or devil's toy
I am not your good luck dick
your statistic or last choice misfit
I am not your father's son
I trust no more and bow to none
I am not your saving grace
I curse your name with spit in face
I am not your falling star
my destiny is mine thus far
I am not your soul to mend
we all take our masks off in the end
She brings me pain and without ill,
in the best of ways she brings me chills.
She brings me down to a slower pace,
to a lower height and another place.
She makes me beg and makes me plead,
and scream for more to fill my need.
She fills my eyes with tears of joy,
I love that I'm her whipping boy.
My gift to her is all I save,
I give my all to be her slave.
I feel I move when chained and still,
for she knows how to break my will.
She's so much stronger it makes me sick,
she don't know magic and don't do tricks.
I count down minutes,
hours,
and days,
to be my DOMINATRIXXX slave...
There's a lady that I know
Everyone calls her Skitzo.
She's a CRAZY WOMAN! Such a CRAZY WOMAN!
One day sweet,the next day mean.
With her there's no in between.
She's a CRAZY WOMAN! Such a CRAZY WOMAN!
Got those CRAZY WOMAN blues.
I don't know why I love her,cause I know the chick's bad news.
Got those CRAZY WOMAN blues.
Though she's practically psychotic,ain't no woman more erotic.
She will love you,drain you dry.
Then she'll spit right in your eye.
She's a CRAZY WOMAN! Such a CRAZY WOMAN!
Well,her middle name is stress.
24/7 PMS.
She's a CRAZY WOMAN! Such a CRAZY WOMAN!
Got those CRAZY WOMAN blues.
Her wish is my desire,her commands I can't refuse.
Got those CRAZY WOMAN blues.
Oh, I wish that she would choose me,how I want her to abuse me.
CRAZY WOMAN, be my wife. I'm your whipping boy for life.
She's a CRAZY WOMAN! Such a CRAZY WOMAN!
She's CRAAAZY! She's tilt a whirl.
But I'm CRAAAZY about that girl.
She's a Nutty Buddy.
She's a Moody Fruity.
She's a Tricky Sicky.
She's a Loony Toony.
Competition for the few vetted by the fewer
What's seen subjectively haughty choosing of a loser
Visceral assertion deemed a sycophantic t w a t
Prideful ego lifted veinly all but one have been forgot
Not important but you made it so just take it as it is
You're a whipping boy of some poor schmuck a name upon a list.....
Bite Size Poem no.4 Poetry Contest
Heathens, scamps and thieves were lying in wait around the cove
Could not see them in gray dusk, but Captain Tawny Right felt them
Being an empath, as well as an Irish pirate queen, she was clairaudient.
She sent word by way of whipping boy for all hands to be at the ready.
A curtain of darkness cloaked the deeds of the rival ship.
Are we sure? Whispered a newcomer to our crew.
I put my finger to my lip, giving him the silent signal.
You could hear nothing but the dip of oars as we rounded this bend.
I realized that our entire crew of forty-nine was holding their breath.
Cannon blast startles me; lights the sky. I see the renegades.
All hell takes over the sea now; they are scallywags like us.
Captain Right is the first to greet them with a sword in their gut.
Big boned, grandiose, black-booted, and bubbly beyond the Baltic.
This is the Mediterranean. Tawny is silent, slashing and killing.
We murder them! The newcomer said. He gleefully sliced a knee.
In an hour Tawny calls a halt and we count our remaining prisoners.
She gives them a choice. Join our band or be murdered on the spot.
Their captain, an old man with grouchy ways begins to argue.
Much younger, handsome first mate runs him through with his sword.
At your command, my Captain, he says, impressing Tawny.
We leave the harbor in two ships, and I am taught to play cards.
Our new scallywags, scamps and thieves love to bet.
Best day on the Mediterranean yet. Started with two ships.
Now we are up to eight. Our captain is ruthless, and brave.
Being an empath who is clairaudient, and clairsentient helps too.
She feels things and knows things prior to smells or sounds.
I am grateful to be on her crew. Will guard her with my life.
Hope one day she will recognize my name and my face.
In a child's blueprint
Most telling memories
Lay dead and buried
Prior to ghosts that torment him grown
The plain act
Of daydreaming
Has ways to call forth
A multitude of zombies from his past
Like a family friend playing father
After Dad's recent demise
Assisting the mother easily overcome
By her youngest boy dubbed Exceptional
Taken aside and told
He's really something
But aware it did not amount to a lot
Through the eyes of those most dear
Let’s be pirates Sammy suggested to her Halloween-loving dad.
He immediately pictured her dressed as a whipping boy lad.
She came downstairs looking like a sexy pirate queen wench.
Father stormed out to tinker in his garage, using his workman’s bench.
What is wrong? The girl asked her more than a tiny bit amused mother.
If you do not know, go ask your twenty-two-year old brother.