Best Worming Poems
Get Out of My Face!
What brought all of that on?
Award? This is not a movie!
Who cares about a stupid award?
And how dare you judge me like that?
You must have lost your brains –
Yes, I see them now!
Right in front of your face
Floating around in the bubble
On your head!
And you say you love me.
Yeah, right!
And since when did this spaceship
Become yours? Get a grip.
You want me off of this rust trap?
Right after you, baby!
Oh, who made you judge and jury?
You do not even know what love is.
You are a suck-up.
But you just lost your brownie points.
Do you call screaming at a cohort?
“Love of humanity”
I see it again!
Grey matter scrambled like eggs. Yum!
I remember when –
You used to eat men alive and brag.
Have you really changed all that much?
You still gloat with words?
Even now, you think you have won.
My dear raging “Power hog”,
Turn the light bulb on…think!
We are in deep space.
What do you think
Will happen to your prize,
If I do get off?
I can see it now.
You, Spaceman of the Year,
Worming your way out of the spot light
When T.S. asks you,
“What happened?
That cute Elaine Justice disappeared?”
Um, well, a…she left the ship.
Really now?
And why was that?
Imagine stumbling your egocentric-self
Right out of your award.
Genuinely, who really cares?
Not I! Said the woman
That still had her brains.
It is time for you to get off.
Love of humanity, or me for that matter,
Is something you know nothing
About…Now, get out of my face!
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
May 20, 2010
Poetic form: Free Verse
Categories:
worming, angst, fantasyme, lost, lost,
Form:
Free verse
The Restaurant Menu has a picture.
Three golden brown Pancakes
A large corn colored slice of butter
Melting on top running over the sides.
Griddle Cakes doing a Nathalie Wood impersonation
Drowning in a sea of thick maple syrup
Cartoon like ribbons of aroma rising upward.
The old man made them every Sunday morning before church.
Which he never attended
Black hair slicked back
Partially stained white Dago-Tee
Cigarette dangling from his lips.
The ash worming longer with each Popeye exhale
From the side of his mouth
Large bowl on his left hip
Attacking the batter with grunts of enthusiasm.
Tattoos on his arms flexing larger then smaller
Giving the appearance they were dancing.
Tatted when he was a Cook in the Navy
During World War II.
I imagined him storming the beaches of the South Pacific
With spatula in hand
"Don't need to cut'em with a damn knife.
Use your fork "
He'd holler wrestling the knife from my hand
Then throwing it into the sink.
Slapping the back of my head in anger
No Waitress wait!
I'll have the Waffles instead
With strawberries if you have them.
Yes, Waffles
We never had a Waffle Iron.
Categories:
worming, father, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Ominous fear, hate of formless things,
squirms unbidden
to the surface of an unboxed grave
worming its way upward.
Fear not
are worms not of God?
Give shape the formless fears.
Disperse the miasma.
Confront the horror,
known and unknown
for are they not all creations of God?
Drive forward on butterfly wings
leave the cocoon of fear
the worms discontent.
Free mind and spirit
from the villains of despair
let sunshine flow
through the arteries of man.
Categories:
worming, faith, forgiveness, hope, introspection
Form:
Free verse
An arthritic flesh
Hesitant wipes off deteriorated lens
Every exhale,
Another tragic sulk unto morrow’s pit
Flaunting suicidal fallacies
Off-white flag motions
Signaling mercy under liar’s duress
Muted pride
Cracking dusty knuckles
Penetration’s decrepit vowel
Slipping in between faulty, stamped licenses
Just to belong
Another back-handed waltz
Bordering beggar dialects
Untrue
Towards paradoxical epiphanies
A faceless identity
Converging amongst unwelcomed hymns
Tainting hallelujahs with discolored spit
Worming their decapitated fingertips
With equilibrium massages
Back to a barricaded oasis
Deciphers from a slanderous heretic
Proclamation of syllabic want
As arthritic flesh
Scribbles out expendable nickname
Manipulating good intentions to be sadistically validated
From their rendered nether
Nameless never inscribed a verse to call their own
Struggling to swim
In the rivers they cried
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
worming, life, sad, society,
Form:
Free verse
Everybody in the building knew
what happened the other day
Everybody in your home office knew too,
your carefully crafted cover was blown
Big news media explosion made it get blown away,
no one now believes a word you say
Years of portraying yourself as something you were not,
exposed now as a blowhard who simply bragged a lot
Said you would’ve taken down Mafia gangster John Gotti,
if you’d been given the chance,
Boasted you would’ve captured terrorist Osama Bin-Laden,
if he hadn’t turned rabbit and ran
Big talking security guard you were ...
until the robbery occurred
Cameras caught you in the ladies bathroom hiding,
and your cowardly shame went viral
You became a national joke
Comedians said you were protecting those scared women,
who had their skirts down
Witnesses said you were inch-worming towards the toilet stalls
with your face hugging the ground
Some enterprising entrepreneur was selling T-shirts that said:
“Throwing a thug birthday party?
Then you need a Rent-a-Cop clown”
And it had your face printed on the front
Now your wife don’t wanna be seen in public with you,
and your kids are catching it, getting mocked at school
“Company Hero”
is the name your co-workers have derisively given you
The only reason you still got your job,
is because of all the free publicity your company received
Even bad publicity sometimes is good
You’ve earned your cowardly stripes with dishonor
Alcoholic erasers can’t seem to wipe away
this awful blackboard stained memory
Nobody’s making Facebook friends with a hero wannabe
Nowadays, you don’t talk much to anyone
And every dream fantasy outcome
of that pride emasculating display,
ends with you firing away ... heroically saving the day
Shooting holes in the heart of your fears,
killing them one by one
Then lovingly, kissing the barrel
of your smoking hot gun
Categories:
worming, funny, humor, image, parody,
Form:
Light Verse
“Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here”
Floating freely amidst the thoughts in my dreaming heart.
Burning futilely, its fiery passion into my soul.
Days spent dreaming go forth unfulfilled.
A soul unbound, without love’s embrace, witherth.
Merciful God in heaven, why curseth thou me so?
Dost thou not see the lusting worming within me?
My living in worth naught lest true love be fulfilled.
And passions contrived are as a squeezing corset.
Doth she not steal from me every tranquil breath?
Hoping surroundeth each waking moment.
Heaven lies here in imaginings that bindeth forever.
Alas, such sweetness as true love dieth in the mind…
Unconfessed –
© July 25, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Romeo and Juliet; How tragic is love… Sponsored by:
~*Wandering* Butterfly*~
Categories:
worming, angst, lovelove, me,
Form:
Free verse
The morning night thunder-shone
The bright stars fractured me
You in sudden surprise
Whirling in your misgivings
Baby gulls sit on our heads
And we weep forgetting to be merry
Broad is the scope of infinity
Meet me in brackish waters
Death to focus
Death to style
Come worming up to the hole
Peacetime summer reds
I can eat a clock and dream of orangutangs
Forgive these latches
Remove them
Remove them
Categories:
worming, adventure, happy, inspirational, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Bot for the sake of liberty sanctum sanctity,
none would ever have perceived
the nano ... nano ... nano
repeated viral injected lies
worming thru infected web monitor screens
Computers aren’t partial to receive only analog truth,
Cyber Greek Equus strode furtively past the security
code digital,
nearly impregnable,
palace firewalls with relative ease
Proving once again
that every man-made technological tool
has some degree of human fallacy
Legions of alternative fact bots
hidden within
an electronically pristine algorithm
Leaving only the faintest trace
of time-stamped digital footprints
Robotic lies
designed to spread diabolical disinformation
Truth wiped clean by dirty, grunt pawn bots
The prime question is: who is their king and queen?
Robotic lying soldier drones
all have a master prompt command
Corollary questions do interface: are their sleeper cell rooks
all aligned to digitally synchronize rappel?
Breach the vaunted freedom walls
for a democratic castle hostile takeover
Are there code corrupting knights strategically embedded
inside the pentagon-shaped silicon halls of defense?
Placed purposely to counter any rapid neural network response
How many suicide bot bishops,
with EM pulse malware bombs
ready to self-destruct,
are inside the sacred Wall Street church?
And will the tri-color robed emperor,
who sits on the ivory throne,
still be in denial as to what went wrong
when the anarchy kill switch signal is turned on?
Amplifying the dissonance of a divided kingdom
Beware, capitalist daughters and sons —
Robotic lies
are the front line nano-soldiers
of the new Bolshevik digital revolution
Categories:
worming, corruption, political, science, truth,
Form:
Free verse
Under wounded light
I go back in time.
Pushing up doubts
Like bottle corks,
Worming to the point,
Knowing not what I seek,
I cross the bridge I am building to who-knows-where.
The past parades around the present
As I stand with eyes downcast,
Forgetting to look to the trees,
Where freedom flows like raindrops,
And the answer awaits like the sea.
Categories:
worming, beautiful, life,
Form:
Free verse
Just come along with me to the town
where long time ago I bicycled,
walked and ran about whenever
I wanted to smell the fragrance of Saigon
where I raised my hand to salute the
spirits while passing by the Lang Ong
Shrine and bathing my body among the
incense smoke drifting out over the
streets and worming my way away from
the crowds of fortune-tellers talking
endlessly about their understanding of
universe and keeping silent on their own.
just come along with me to the town
where I said hello to people in the
Ba Chieu Market where they yelled and
boasted about their bargain prices
and always be prepared to load
all their stuff on their shoulders and
heads and run away from the police
and jump over all the walls on their ways
while scattering behind with sandals,
sunglasses and hats... while throwing
into the sky their yells and screams – and you
see now, those sounds still vibrate in my heart.
just come along with me to the town
where I have left many parts of me
onto the dirt trails of Dong Ong Co
leading to my dharma uncle’s temple
and please gently step into the village,
please softly move and try not to break the
standstill air here, where you will see
my footprints still visible around the altar
where decades ago I asked the old
monk Thuong Chieu about the way of
Zen, and then he smiled – and now
I would surprise him when he first time sees
a lady walking beside me. My dear, please
walk gently here in my unchanged
village, where you will see the cows still
standing in the field with their heads staring
at the far-away sky, the birds still reaching
high into the sky, the monk still sitting there
with his endless smile, and there the answer
he gave me now still remaining in an original
state: he threw a piece of tile against the wall
and asked if I heard the sound and then said
that that was the way of Zen – you now see
that that piece of tile still remains floating in the air
just come along with me to the town
where everything stays unmoveable,
and unbreakable endlessly, where the
monk and me live like the unmovable statues.
By Phan Tan Hai
Categories:
worming, appreciation, beauty, cute love,
Form:
Free verse
Conflict of the conscious
There things
We don`t want
To remember
It is there buried
Under layers
Of lies
Yet like a worm
Worming its way
Through
Mud
It tries to force
Us to see
To confront oneself
Is a hard thing to do
Categories:
worming, green, hair, hate, heaven,
Form:
Chastushka
Worming through the tantalizing jungle
nearly catatonically sated
with bitter antonym of nourishment,
my choice is to withdraw reclusively.
Time’s suspended …
dreams elsewhere,
until,
under glassine membrane occurs
a veiled but stirring transformation.
Soon opened,
this envelope reveals
the full-fledged figure
that’s fluttered proudly
in the warm light of day.
Then swiftly flying,
joyously, to the glittering bank,
I sip the nectar of the gods
as a newly emerged writer.
Categories:
worming, on writing and words
Form:
Free verse
Alzheimer’s is the devil incarnate secretly waiting in the wings to violate
Lovely people who are unaware this evil disease is in hiding somewhere
Zigzagging silently through their brain ~ never to be the same again
Hell on earth it steals their mind with total confusion left behind
Evilly worming ~ silently destroying ~ sucking your loved one’s life away
Injecting poison into family and friends, breaking hearts their pain never ends
Making sure they know you are there, to laugh and sing helps quell their fear
Enjoy time together, each minute of each day, before life slowly fades away
Remembering what they did has gone; but how they felt stays with them long
So hug and kiss, talk and sing, look into their eyes, they are still there within
Written 14th October 2019
For my dearest sister-in- law who will be 64 tomorrow
24th December 2019
Contest: STRAND SPECIAL 9,
Sponsor: Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
Categories:
worming, evil, hate, heartbreak, smile,
Form:
Acrostic
Who could be content
with this wretched world
religions bribe
death; bovine silence
tears at my beating red heart
without passions arc
there would only be rational thought
and grizzled earth
arctic cold
poetry beats the gravity
of this rock
deepens the mouth of inspiration
worming through
the machinery of desperation
like Jesus floats
eloquence it's revenge
a helpless idol
Categories:
worming, angst, dark, how i
Form:
Concrete
On the Verge
Every hand is pocket bound,
eyes lifted from the TV’s hallowed glow.
Breath is released in a low sigh;
worming, squirming, squat.
Thrust out of bounds in tandem,
nothing is done alone.
You’re seen, you’re sought, you’re it,
maybe you need a pill?
Vomit is on the upswing,
visual stimulation overload.
Brain cells can’t sort this one out,
tears are dry as bones.
Your neck is turned full sideways,
the punch is coming on fast,
Quick reaction is not your strong suit,
fall to the floor, break like glass.
What is happening to this picture,
not set, not neat, not bound?
Houses, cars, children, stores,
benchmarks strewn by the way
You’re in need of a clutch hit,
your world is stumbling on.
Detachment, resentment, complacence,
smug on your rug as a bug.
Happiness is a gun over-warmed,
second hand shits on a turd.
Feet of clay encased in cement,
your vomit is now overboard.
11/11/17
Categories:
worming, angst, anxiety, conflict, culture,
Form:
Free verse