Buggers Poems | Examples

Its Raining Cats and Dogs

My leader has spoken once again
I listen with my one ear, on the right

I cut the evil left one off
to honour the wisest man of payoffs 
who almost gave up his life for me 
all so that he keeps his private jet
and keeps America free

now he has spoken more wise words
eat cats and dogs, I know at first seems absurd
he's never been wrong, ever before
so off I went in me pickup over to the pound
it seemed to warm the volunteers hearts
that I took all strays, a la carte

all this time been eating the wrong sort of critters
squirrels and possum and the occasional pigeon
well shhh about cousin Jed's little pet hamsters
tasty buggers was all that matters

my leader though has given me a new diet
so now I eat dogs, and for desert then the cats
he was right, as he always is
tasty son of guns, even better than my rats

now if Trump was from down under and I swear this true
pretty sure Id be having some BBQ Kangaroo

I am just proud to wave my American guns
making America great, eating one pet at a time
now do not try and stop me, I have more ammo
than you illegal immigrants have pennies and dimes

Paleolithic Pachyderm

Big as a house,
Scared of a mouse,
With nose that grows
Down to its toes.
Fearlessly drives tusk into dusky musk.
Wisely buggers-off from the likes of usk.

A Kind of Living

In Yorkshire, a bit of bacon-butty
in a greasy cafe -
could have had blood sausage.
My breaches are squeaking,
mice are leaving deposits.
Somehow a few do applaud 
my slippery tongue.

Beer in Belfast
gray foaming weather
kept the damp town breezy.
Recite my crap.
Pub talk,
fist fights in the carpark,
I miss a missing train.

Read poems to smug buggers
in Birmingham,
drip out of there
and good riddance.

Back to London
and the mold riddled dump
that keeps me from
an old cranking typewriter.
Mind-ghosts slither
around its keys.

A poets life begins
haphazardly,
conflicted as it is
with the right to be
or not to be.

Cheap Nookie Nails Rookie

The Secret Service don't need to shout
They're randy buggers inside and out!
Wherever they go
The whole world will know
They got the girl (reeled in like a trout)!

Naming Cats

Much serious thought should be given
to the naming of them,
for would we call a Byzantine Emperor
Tiddles, Blackie or Patches,
would we name an Egyptian Pharaoh,
Ginger, Tiger, Tom, or Peanut?

Cat’s are royalty, no less noble
than the Great Charlemagne -
and they know it,
thus it is most essential
that we get the little buggers neutered.


~~~~~~~~~
a nod to T.S. Eliot

Take Out

Tom Cunningham says its not rash
For Russians to take out their trash
And the longer they wait
The more stink in their fate
But the buggers all want more cash!

Trouble Sleeping

Trouble Sleeping
   by Bob Moore © 2016

I have trouble every night, 
when I try to go to sleep
they say it might be easier,
if I try counting sheep

but the little buggers won’t stand still, 
they’re jumping all around
the only ones that I can count, 
are lying on the ground

Other people do it, 
with sheep which will be good
I’ve seen pictures of them lying there,
the sheep doing as they should

jump the fence, one by one, 
land on the other side
my sheep all just run about, 
don’t seem to have much pride

And now I’m getting aggravated,
I’ll never get to sleep
I’ve kept my eyes closed really tight, 
but now I’ll take a peep

hang on, it now is daylight
the mornings come so soon
guess I’d better get out of bed, 
I’ll have a nap this afternoon.

Raindrops - Not Quite Haiku

Raindrops, noisy little buggers
                                          ....ricochet off the windows


Raindrops, itinerant drummers
                                          .....searching for a beat


Raindrops gather, meander mob-like
                                                  ......through the streets


Puddles of predictability
                            raindrops repeat
                                                .......tapping points


Artistic raindrops
                    .....diamond studded
                                               .....spider webs


Freezing raindrops glaze
                                   ...........frosting snow


Raining cats and dogs
                            ........cold nose wet fur


John G. Lawless
2/16/2021

Flying To Manchester

"This is the best time of the day,"
The taxi man said,
"Before those buggers go to work.
Half an hour's time
You couldn't drive down here."
"I wouldn't want to."
I replied, looking up at the clear air,
Signatured with vapour trails,

And wishing Manchester
Were Singapore or Cape Town.

Kim Helen James
January 1997

Disarray

Is my room in such disarray 
That I'm not even seeing straight?
Are those dust bunnies wearing candy wrappers as hats?
Their building an army, I'm under attack!
They start to charge towards me with their toothpick swords
holding shields made of buttons and whips made of extension cords
They begin constructing a catapult made up of popsicle sticks and a wooden spoon
One by one the dust bunnies shoot across the room
Ducking every attempt to hit them with the broom
I bet I can suck those little buggers up with my trusty vacuum
Their little cries are covered up by my suction tool of death
I hope you bunnies enjoyed your last breath
I will keep my room clean I promise you
Now I am aware of what dust bunnies can do.

Watering Backyard Flowers

They live in an iron nest
and have begun to dream
the way threadbare drapes will
in too much sunlight.

Scorched by sky
blooms crumple like straw hats.
Water has no effect.

Any time now,
I expect to see stringy stems
swell into aqueducts
but the newly doused
droop the more.

The fancy blooms cost me $74

Stupidly I yell at them:
to revive, to live, to thrive!

Nothing.

The buggers have also gone deaf.

I Have Had Cats

I have had cats who walk,
even now,
in and out of dreams.

Cats know no boundaries.
Like Serengeti lions they assume
that everything is theirs,
even dreams, even the afterlife,
even the dogs cushion-bed.

Some have walked out on me,
some still send me love poems from the beyond.
Many have been insufferable, arrogant, 
ankle-biting buggers.

Now here comes one of the bad ones
stalking into my mind, like a gamekeeper
hunting rabbits.

It sees my ears twitching, 
the trembling of my rabbit-like nose.
I see it now, though it must be long dead.
It appears before me; coat glossy, eyes flashing,
little horns on its fluffy head!

I do believe in the goodness of angels, some 
are made to be cute, even sexy, 
some are made to be angelic purring cats,

however, when horns grow out 
from their fuzzy feline brows,
it is time to empty the litter tray.

Love Those Little Buggers

Could easily eat eggs three times a day
Love those little buggers so much
Thanks to the hens for being so gracious
Providing us with omelets and such

Heard some people even eat 'em raw
Now that's not for me I'm afraid
Said I loved 'em but I must draw the line
Not for me even if I was paid

If hens could talk I'm sure they'd be saying
“What are you people doing
Eating 'em raw was never in the contract”
They'd be clucking like hell or fuming

My relationship with almost all of the hens
Is mutually one of good trust
I go by the rules, over-easy or omelets
Respecting their feelings is a must

May think I'm strange talking to chickens
Have other strange quirks as well
But they'll have to wait for another day
My brain must rest for a spell

There Is No 'society'

what's society...
just order propaganda...
assimilation...

society's naught...
there's only the converted...
...that we need armies...

starting with the young...
to give some person power...
who pays for honor...

war is not a norm...
average mankind is quite sane...
war is a con job..

minority run...
profitable 'horse racing'...
lock the buggers up...

Easy Lads No Need To Run

"Easy lads, no need to run"
The keen young officer called,
"We've shelled the buggers night and day
We must have killed them all."

"The barbed wire's blown apart
Ahead lies victory,
So easy lads, no need to run,
Forwards! follow me."

And follow him the soldiers did
Into the jaws of hell,
To be slaughtered by machine gun
And searing mortar shell.

They died amongst the uncut wire
Still clutching at their guns,
"We must have killed them all," he'd said,
"So easy lads, don't run."

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