There lives a gentleman from Luff
Who walks everywhere in the buff
His weeny is teeny
He calls it his winky
A stump that can't fill a cream puff.
Ladies would be left in despair
But he didn't really care
He got what he wanted
Frustrated, they taunted
And decided give him a scare.
They tied him to an 'lectric chair
Placed electrodes on you know where
They pulled down on the switch
His stump started to twitch
It stood bright like a giant flare
You'd think he would very happy
Making a stump long and snazzy
The women were smiling
The man was now crying
Wink shrivelled, weirdly and badly
From that day he always wore clothes
With women he instantly froze
He's fearful of leccy
Winky is now Becky
And parades in yearly freak shows.
25.07.25
Program the brain
with positive intervention -
Shock it with poetic
electrodes.
Connect the temples
with godlike influences.
And always remember,
"Sip some poetry soup!"
"Okay?"
- "Okay, then."
Imagine no more actors
It’s easy to do
Just shut off your TV
And skip the movies too.
Imagine that the actors
All just went away Aha-ah...
Imagine politicians
Who really work for us
Wired with electrodes
That would be a plus
Imagine all the charges
That would just get dropped... Woohoo…
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I was born right here
Like my parents before me
See, my paperwork is clear
Imagine low taxation
And paying as you go
No raging inflation
Prices at the pump real low
Imagine conceal carry
Without registry... Woohoo
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I was born right here
Like my parents before me
See, my paperwork is clear
----------
Facebook meme reporting the war in Ukraine could be ended in short order if we could just get more movie stars to film themselves singing 'Imagine' from their hollywood mansions, lol.
Untether my blood, for it is cruel.
Sanity drips from my veins like gruel.
As my web of failure becomes unthreaded.
I feel I am unheaded.
As delusions that are kind take hold.
Not as strong as the electrodes, I am told.
As I find my desperation to escape vanishes.
They set me outside with all the other banishes.
Sex 101
by Michael R. Burch
That day the late spring heat
steamed through the windows of a Crayola-yellow schoolbus
crawling its way up the backwards slopes
of Nowheresville, North Carolina...
Where we sat exhausted
from the day’s skulldrudgery
and the unexpected waves of muggy,
summer-like humidity...
Giggly first graders sat two abreast
behind senior high students
sprouting their first sparse beards,
their implausible bosoms, their stranger affections...
The most unlikely coupling—
Lambert, 18, the only college prospect
on the varsity basketball team,
the proverbial talldarkhandsome
swashbuckling cocksman, grinning...
Beside him, Wanda, 13,
bespectacled, in her primproper attire
and pigtails, staring up at him,
fawneyed, disbelieving...
And as the bus filled with the improbable musk of her,
as she twitched impaled on his finger
like a dead frog jarred to life by electrodes,
I knew...
that love is a forlorn enterprise,
that I would never understand it.
Keywords/Tags: first love, sex, sexy, lust, passion, desire, school, student, teen, teenage, learning, bus, foreplay, fingering, odor, musk, romance, romantic, humiliation
Up
You hit me like a bolt right out of the blue.
Every time I think of you,
And every time I try not to,
Still all I think is, I need you in my view.
You lift me from the Earth to the stars.
You spin my mind around, feelings fly like darts,
Between my left and right hemispheres;
I need to have you near.
I see you when I am hypnotized.
You float with me like butterflies,
And all around I feel you strike;
My heart beats twice, because of your eyes.
The electrodes hit my dreams;
The dream’s in which you leave me to scream.
My day dreams become a nightmare,
Because I am without you, to lift me up there.
(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Winds blow leaves rustle the branches strike the windows
the dogs are restless and move from the sofa to their crates
I watch the leaves and branches as they dance a war
dance the dance of ancient tribes twirling around rocks and winds
preparations begin as the evening darkness spins
a warning dance and a blacken night
clouds cover the sparkle of the stars the only light,
electricity flashes from the sky, electrical wires are shut down
man’s mechanical load, light bulbs go out candles flicker
and fine grained crystal satellites are fighting to remain
the universe stretches and sings to a sun
stronger than anything mankind has known,
each second a billion nuclear bombs explodes
with earth, and planets’ moons red, white and blue
abandoned now oxygen free, nitrogen night atmospheric
emptiness there are electrodes in the air
magnetic fields solar flares
We damage the earth and the universe prepares.
We have that moment in our life
where love comes down into one's heart
the desire from deep within explodes
hits one there pierces like a love dart
Kathleen and Joe were so apart
in real life but electronically so close
the electrodes caused a real spark
when the web lines smelled their nose
Memories come flooding back here
to days when they were no email
snail mail as it's labelled nowadays
the stamp took us wings to sail
One year before meeting face to face
Christine and I by letters to exchange
so much one can learn by our pen
it made us feel at home on our range
You're the only one I want
both our feelings did unite
like Joe and Kathleen on film
our love is still up in the light
( This is loosely based on the movie 'You've Got Mail' as my wife Christine and I shared same mail exchange as Joe (Tom Hanks) and Kathleen (Meg Ryan) but not email but by normal snail mail and so still together after 29 years. )
You are the word that has captured my soul
You moved through my mind connecting all dots
Through my electrodes you flowed creating words
Connecting deep into my soul
As I read your poetry my mind wonders
Wondering if what you wrote was for me
Theses words you have placed together
Reach farther then any before so deep into my soul
I hunger each day to see your poetry
Written only by you my Shakespeare of today
Your words flow like water running over glass
So smooth and gentle a never ending last
So rich and divine these words you place together
Creating such a pleasant tune of harmony and bliss
Like two lips placed together for their very first kiss
Oh my poetry soup you bring a peace that is so divine
I will write to you each day if I can find the time
Mister Thought Police,
my twin electrodes agree
with your Mind Kontrol policy
It’s a laboratory disgrace,
that the free speech troublemakers
get to protest this way
Such a predestined malfunction fiber optic outrage
Ms. Chief of the Microchip Morality Division,
your prompt commands
are embedded deep
inside of my loyal neural circuitry
Every Hive authorized memory wipe decision
tightens the beta bands ~ Obedient oscillation wavelengths
don’t come robo cheap
Propaganda protocols are docile necessary
Mr. Automaton Dispatch Operator,
my artificial pump mechanism
has an ultra-jolt affinity
for your Pavlov call-response methods
Mind Kontrol orders are retinal scan template embraced
Unplug the free-think I.T. instigators,
who want chaos burst aneurysm
Queen emission insanity
will force a droning, self-destruct buzz
It’s a lobotomy shame,
that the non-programmed Grey Matter radicals
get to freely act this way
Miss Thought Police,
discourage any disloyal circuitry
This is my Mind Kontrol plea:
Thoroughly erase any freewill trace of cerebral cortex tampering
She vibrates, a chassis minus shock absorption.
A painting, the nude descends a staircase,
rings of Saturn etched in a vacuum tube.
Or Eniac of twisted cords and switchboards.
She isn't programmed to see light beams
spraying through the trees,
nor silver bearings of morning dew.
There are no bees plunging like pistons
in the flowers, no circuit board on the step.
She climbs the jamb as a bot returning to its task.
Monitors flicker as nanoseconds pass unnoticed,
but the galaxy ends at the lintel.
She's a child of Mir, suspended upside down
in a universe where falling isn't death,
but the failure of electrodes.
Then silent as a dead star she descends.
All drives cease functioning.
She is still as a scarab,
the light years casting sand dunes on sphinxes,
until legs spasm as though coding
a final matrix for iron butterflies waiting to be born.
With three arms and three legs,
a face that's disfigured and small,
he crouches compliant
and strokes his electrodes.
The men in white lab coats are laughing.
They treat him just like an amoeba,
poking and prodding his body
with needles and probes.
A subject for scrutiny under a microscope,
there's no humanity fueling his bones, he's bizarre.
Bioethicists say: 'He's a man with a soul!'
but what price a soul if you're born in a jar?
Deep into my sleep
And completely unsuspecting
My alien abduction
Would be truly frightening
My cold chills were real
Giant black eyes watching me
I'm paralyzed by electrodes
And the lack of empathy
I'll be okay, I'll be okay
I'm repeating to myself
Feeling dreadful vertigo
As if the ground begins to tilt
Lying in a slender cot
Two young children at my side
I worry they will fall
So I cling to them so tight
I've seen too many movies
Perhaps read too many books
Sometimes my fertile imagination
Will not let me off the hook
But wouldn't it be strange
If somewhere in the stars
I have two hybrid daughters
Wondering why daddy is so far?
Electrodes electrify in currents so sporadic,
Never leading to objectives but moving with purpose,
Electrolytes breaks down to iron that stays erratic.
And the purpose still erodes to being worthless.
The body is an ecosystem in itself,
Brainwaves fluctuating in perfect unison,
And my life's aura seems to cause stability to melt.
While your beings duplicates seems to do you in.
Parts of the brain one can only emphasize for empathy,
And the bodies vivid power of remembrance fades,
All parasites have an opposite but life has no remedy.
And the windows to souls shuts and always jades.
Resemblance requires the minds recall of images,
And in my chest Ive filled a hole,
In dream land i quickly loose sympathy and other appendages.
And i sleep so life doesn't steal my soul.
With three arms and three legs,
a face that's disfigured and small,
he crouches compliant
and strokes his electrodes.
The men in white lab coats are smiling.
They treat him just like an amoeba,
poking and prodding his body
with needles and probes.
A subject for scrutiny under a microscope,
there's no humanity fueling his bones, he's bizarre.
Bioethicists say: 'He's a man with a soul!'
but what price a soul if you're born in a jar?
Sub Categories
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.