Meet the mad, manic, Mister Murgatroyd
An undynamic blistered humanoid
A curred curmudgeon you don't want to meet
In a bar, back alley, or dead end street
He's a filthy, flagrant, flatulent fart
Sewer rat mind and tarantula heart
Cleaves cuddly kittens, feeds them to guppies
Pet pranks the pet shop, punting the puppies
He's our white whale and our snake in the grass
A demon from hell, one pain in the ass
His black, rotten heart's beyond all belief
We need good karma to offer relief
Slurp burping some soup, soup wouldn't swallow
Burp slurping for breath, death would soon follow
A lone chicken bone was lodged in his throat
His face had changed tone and started to bloat
No one there for the Heimlich maneuver
Cuz no one cared from here to Vancouver
No smelling salts would be administered
No certificate of death was registered
They scrambled his brains to stop his last twitch
Then scraped his remains, dropped him in a ditch
A soulless soul and one sorry old sot
Heavens to Murgatroyd?... Heaven thinks not!
Wa wa wonk wonk wonkwa
Have I won the Shulzer Prize?
Burping beautiful blue butterflies
Metamorphizing my mind
If only I could turn back time
Yet I can change into a colorful cartoon
I’m such a buffoon
And deep down I know
That when I stop feeling sorry for myself
Only then will I be forgiven for my shortcomings
So, until we meet again ...
“I love you, Mama.”
sisters gobbled up cookies as they played hearts
They tried to ignore each other’s semi loud farts.
The burping was due to the Coca cola they’d drink.
One of the SBD's was so awful, her face was blood pink.
or the spoons
but read it accompanied by something
the French horn
the harpsichord
the balalaika at the bus stop
the burping of a favourite uncle
on the runway as passenger planes take off around you
the Saturn V rocket launch was a clanger to the metal munchies
i mean i could go on
but i won't, because going on would be going on
the soul, the guest of the body,
needs nourishment, and calls for a poptart dad;
but i will go on, because this poem, read, as in a reading,
would be good to read out loud, accompanied by or standing alongside
the eruption of Krakatoa
Scam Likely called me eleven times yesterday
Fifty-two times this week
I do not pick up
I used to though
When I was younger sales calls were a personal challenge to me.
I wanted to see if I could make them hang up first.
Salesman: Do you own your own home?
Me: No, but I would love to. Can you send me some money?
Salesman: Would you love to have new windows?
Me: I live in a tent down by the river.
Salesman: I can give you a terrific insurance quote
Me; What’s that?
Salesman (or Scam Likely): I can tell you how to save money
Me: I save money by not paying for insurance.
When my children were younger, I discovered something marvelous.
If you hand the phone to a toddler, the child is delighted.
Babbling, gurgling and burping into the receiver with glee.
Scam Likely hangs up first every time.
Whatever did I do to wile away my time
Before poetry took over my brain
Walked around staring blankly into space
Burping and expelling methane
Really no direction I was truly a lost soul
The word 'zombie' enters my mind
But now I'm alive and cooking with gas
Rhyming away line after line
Friends all say, “knock that stuff off!”
Love to but my brain is obsessed
Even rhyme when I'm ordering a pizza
This affliction has made me quite stressed
I lovingly remember those carefree days
Before poetry took over my life
I went to the park and did normal things
Threatening little kids with a knife
If you didn't think that line was appropriate
Couldn't find another to rhyme
So don't go writing me nasty letters
I'm really not the violent kind
To end this silliness on an upbeat note
I've ended up here with this group
Met a nice bunch of really friendly people
Sure happy I'm now in the loop
Bococo bay
beyond Ballay,
beyond Bar Reef,
beyond belief;
big booby bawls
brash booming calls
bedraggled beasts
bake bacon feasts
boss bozos boast
beside bad ghosts
blue butt Baboons
bemuse with tunes
bone bodies boo
(boil boogers too)
bombastic boys
bang, bang with noise
bijou boats float
bob bob in moat
blind burping bird
begs to be heard
Bococo bay
beyond Ballay,
beyond Bar Reef,
beyond belief;
beyond Bopeep
beyond my sleep.
I am in love with Music,
I am in love with playing the acoustic.
Being a hater of crying,
Being a hater of spying.
I am in love with Bangtan,
I am in love with fashion.
I love to stay up in the middle of the night till morning,
but I hate warnings.
I am in love with someone,
I love to have some fun.
I hate to be called the dumb one,
Because I am the smart one.
I love flirting,
But for certain,
I hate burping.
I love to enjoy my life,
The last thing that I hate is to die.
Lee is perfect she said
he has a burping problem but it is cute
what makes him perfect? I asked her.
He is exactly right, except for his hair.
But I will get him to change it after we are married.
Almost perfect? I guessed.
He is a mama’s boy; that is a bit of a problem she told me.
And he has a horrible habit of licking the spoon.
What makes him perfect? I query again.
And putting it back into the communal pot.
I will break him of that and some other nasty habits.
She gives me a smile. He is my man, my one and only.
He will never be able to leave me, she says.
I will change him into the perfect man.
So he is not yet perfect? I guess.
I realize there will be no answer.
I heard a noise that sounded like a cricket
Then once again, coming from her thicket
Soozie cried, "I keep burping."
"No," I said. "It's a chirping!
I'm not gonna touch that sticky wicket."
No words completely rhyme with orange:
no orange fringe, no orange hinge,
no lozenge, no syringe, no twinge, no whinge – no nothing!
No words completely rhyme with orange.
Porridge isn’t orange; but, there is an Orange Province.
An orange stoppage - should be red!
Incorrigible orange!
The rhymes I’ve tried are negligible, barely sensible.
Horrid orange!
Purple is no better.
There are purple turtles, slurping, burping,
and purple pebbles, purple burbles:
all sorts of purply, chirpy, twerpy sounds,
but, no words rhyme with purple.
Silver is another colour which hasn’t got a twinning brother.
There are silver rivers, silver shivers, silver slivers, silver sisters;
but, there are no silver dilver milver pilvers,
and if there were, they’d smell like fish.
I actually prefer the almost-chimes of assonance,
the vowels that that twine with consonants,
without the over-confidence of lar-dee-dar-dee rhymes.
Can you smell the turkey cooking?
Can you smell the pumpkin pie?
Can you see the children lurking,
With a glimmer in their eye?
See the table filled with family,
See the table filled with yams.
See my Father as he's burping,
From his second slice of ham.
From my Grandma's chocolate pudding,
To my Mother's deviled eggs.
See my Grandpa's belly swelling,
Packed with one more turkey leg.
After all are fully stuffed,
As we all begin to slouch.
Asked who wants a piece of pie,
As we pass out on the couch.
I guess, one thing everyone wanna escape are those awkward and embarrassing moments.
Such as an unreturned high five.
Or saying good evening instead of good morning accidentally.
Or when a friend leaves you with a friend of his.
Or shouting in a public place unintentionally grabbing all the attention.
Or burping loudly in a quiet place.
Or accidentally mistooking a pedestrian as someone else.
Or tripping infront of notables.
Or leaving a shop without buying anything.
These are the worst types of circumstances.
But why do these unpleasant memories remain while the happier ones do not?
Backyard mavens, wise crones
recall generations of groundhogs
that have dwelt in these hedgerows.
In winter
they seed the ground with 'Puffcorn Delites'
bought wholesale from Sam's Club.
The comfortable groundhogs nap in their burrows
contemplating evening feasts.
Furred paws in tartan house slippers
shuffle at back doors. A grey whiskered fuzziness
that is part critter, part elderly granny
stand ever ready
to lend a hand in case baby groundhogs
need burping.
Borborgymic and gurgling,
he tried to go a-burgling,
but when he snagged the diamond ring,
his eructations stole the day.
So now he watches seminars;
he's learning how to play guitar.
He even hums a couple bars,
stamps license plates for play.
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