Can you hear me
The screams ran out
From my mind, I was afraid
Of the dark you kept me in
Can you get on knee
Like me got, but you shout
Cut the crap, focus on aid
Feels like having nobody to lean
Just care about image
Which seems to me like garbage
Can you see me
The tears fell out
From my eyes, I was scared
Of your anger you burst on me.
Gus shook his head and began pairing
everyone up in teams...
Then, WailersWitch walked in.
Followed closely by EllenDegenerate
who was sniffing behind WailersWitch
and snaking the air with her forked tongue
between her fingers.
Degenerate had a shirt on that suspiciously
resembled buildings at Little St. James Island,
a resort for orphans that she contributed to.
Then, Michael Ofelellah walked in with RufePal,
"we're here and we're ...
we choreographed the White Houses Nutcracker
for the White Powder Holidays, now, it's time to get something black!
They opened a mini dome of the rock
box and inside was a demon.
Yes, from inside, popped out
WhoopieCushionPatsy, her dirty
dreadlocks dangled in the air
with filthy pride that reminded one
of a dust storm swirling magically
in a sewage treatment plant, swirling waste
and racing them like Americas Cup.
"Anybody getting a good view of my anti-white princessness, yes it is truly ME!"
Michael cut in, cut the crap Whoopie,
we have a world to subdue before Hillary hogs it all...
A holiday comes
a holiday goes
Will it come again
God only knows
Aw, cut the crap
I ain't fallin' in this trap
Of course it's comin' next year
Go soak your brain in stale beer
Not-so-fast, Mr. Know-it-All
Your ego's cruisin' for a fall
Next year, 2024, there'll be a world war
Bombs, missiles, lots of gore
You mean, the world might end
before my favorite holiday
Well, at least now I've reason
to ditch the dogma and pray
To dear Nanette:
How can I express what I feel for you?
I love you.
Because you are you,
When you are not with me, I’m blue.
Because you’re chic,
Outside, the countryside is bleak.
Because you’re lovely,
I yearn for you embrace cuddly,
Because you are true,
We are one not two,
Because……
From the administrator:
Cut the crap and don’t waste our space. Just go hug and kiss her.
To the administrator:
Spoilsport ;)
i did have to comb
what had been left of my dome
while i would be home
had been lead astray
God told us we should obey
Use underarm spray
much sugar with spice
had been found in paradise
without sin or vice
with great precision
biden did make decision
need more religion
rather than trashing
biden gave out compassion
which he would ration
when in pinch would feel
needed to have sex appeal
biden be big deal
we know God is wise
and have heard to our surprise
bible did devise
God would break the code
our sins were a heavy load
make sure lawn is mode
(gifts on us bestowed)
after taking knap
God said we should cut the crap
also shut big trap
God gave me big broom
so i could sweep off my tomb
flowers bloom by bloom
when in chair would sit
by lightening bolt had been hit
needed first aide kit
saw banged up fender
had been made by male gender
quite a big bender
cut the crap you fake
bringing home roses and cakes
~ cheating pig was staked
A Valentine's Senryu Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin 04/02/21
Syllable counter PS 5/7/5
On the surface
you’re all sweetness and light
But ...
the truth is life isn't a game
and if I were to start digging
digging deeper than a gravediggers soiled shovel
I'd see through your libelous lies
which spread daily
like a cankerous carbuncle
Well honey
I’m shooting from the hip -
why can’t you simply sit on your fingers?
Just cut the crap
I’m through with your festering fallacies
get a life
and leave me to live mine in peace
THE CRAP SHOOT POETRY CONTEST Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
4/29/19
Poems Are Definately Democratic
My poems definitely did become democratic;
While hearing Trump raising so much static;
Commotion caused,
With his small paws;
Being terrible had been his biggest tactic.
Trump has not only confiscating the clover,
He sure had been screwing all of us over;
Sunny and bright;
No not tonight,
And even is an obvious orange hair grower.
Trump skinned a coon and made into a cap,
And trouble he caused is all over the map;
To north ponted;
Finger disjointed;
Still has been learning how to cut the crap,
Jim Horn
Read Over Again
There are certain things that I often wish
When reading my poems relish and embellish
Think they are greatest you ever have read
Bunch of bull found yourself not being fed.
Pleasing poems have Pulitzer Prize potential
While reading them it has become essential
That I cut the crap and avoid any suspense
Only thing required to read is common sense.
Poems are pure, plain simple and once upon
A long time ago on me it finally did dawn
Soon an incredible classic they will become
And are now part of songs people love to hum.
Continue reading my poems on and on and on
Until into bright future they finally have gone
Which is always what I really did intend
You will be able to read over and over again.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
I am not amazed he lost both sight and fight
She walked unfettered into calm
In "Paris Blues" one peach-clad pussycat was pursued
The Proprietor's goal lacked glitter
Historically, he knew better
She departed
He felt the blues
He wore imaginary badge of entitlement
and breathe air of pseudo pride
She read his lips, looked him in the eyes
Then smiled her clairvoyant smile
His words were weighed on scale Source
She sat snug with fuel from the Source
She knew lighthouses affording light that guides
They were transparent with genuine streaks
Should entitlement be legalized?
One fine day, more folks will cut the crap
They'll stop getting what they've got
crippling the crippled now stats
The dumb, the deaf, the blind is made new
What goal of goal beckons you?
*
Under your spell
Am I in heaven or hell?
I’ve bled too many times
The clock still chimes
Under your spell
You torture me…I’m falling in a well
I’ve said “I love you” too many times
The clock still chimes
My dreams are broken
But, I feel good with you around
I’m sorry, I must flee and open
Up the gate to peace…you threw me to the ground
Under your spell
I’ve lost my mind…oh well
I’ve been lost for so long
Life’s like a song
Under your spell
You defeated me…with your spell
I’ve said “I hate you”, but I don’t mean it
I love you, friend – at least I admit it
My dreams are broken
But, I feel good with you around
I’m sorry, I must flee and open
Up the gate to elation…you pick me up from the ground
And you are forgiven
Under your spell
I can’t believe I’ve fallen in your trap
Can you hear me in the well?
I can’t believe you have threw me in here – cut the crap
Under your spell
I’m looking overhead for some sunlight
Pour forth bliss upon me…get me out of this living hell
Hold on…don’t let go of me…good night
Good night…take flight tonight
OCCAM'S HAIKU
Wise Occam
philosopher craves
cut the crap
Chazz your like my kitty
Phoebe
With your act of the witty
And your dance so crazy
I am enchanted with
Your "bubbly-Wubbly'"talk
Your the girl to be with
During A Dead Zone walk
Now my bro's making
My cat Rap
O god For saking:
"Sufyan,Cut the crap"
I will miss your
Blue baby Dips
And what's much more
Than You I'll miss?
I saw death
He was wearing a shirt
It said"Go take a bathe
And stop being Such a skirt"
But he aint the One
That stopped my negative ways
It was You!My Love=)
That cropped my Drama-Queens Days
I Go all insane around
You My Chick
Its my music sound
That'll make you go "Whicka,whick"
I still want Nad'z
Apple bottom Jeans
But you'l probably goes
"Saj,You've got an a*s!O jeez =,=' "
I Love you Blondie
For making My day
If it weren't for all your "WOO-Zie"
How will I be so glad today?
Listen up,
You tyros,
Don't go messin'
With my buddy Jack
Yeah, Reed,
Indeed...
He's cool people,
And I like him,
He writes well,
Yeah, this from Tom Bell,
You take him on,
You take on me,
Let me tell you,
Yes-eree
Cut the crap and show
Some class,
Or you might get
A poetic broken a__
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.