Goofs Poems | Examples

Behind the Curtain

do we want to know what’s behind
it - it the show, the drama, the comedy, the crown?
roll the tape, blind us
to the truth of the goofs
snapping turtles, caramel
the lines deceased
irreverence released
do you want to fall behind
the line, congo style
playing the bongos
on air, blowing off steam
Ricky’s loving
her deep red hair
henna is just a trick
he does tricks
morality took a leap, why
the dial into sleep?
David’s herding, no one heard
the sheep.
the bees buzzing
the birds whatzing
the show a go go
look on tape
to see what you believe
no one
in tv land is dressed in virtue
it’s a really big shoe
Ed Sullivan’s size
throw the curtain
don’t look behind the curtain
memorize the lines
even prairie lines
so sweet and innocent
don’t analyze
you’ll be disappointed
don’t buy the book
it’s not done by the book
there’s a cover for a reason
don’t meet the action figures
they don’t bend
you can pop their heads off
they’re not worth
a million dollar man
Farrah Fawcett wouldn’t give
him an eye
it’s rich
his life’s unreal
roll the real
world

A Roof Raising Poop

The musical was near ready to start
When someone let off a rip roaring fart
The smell was horrific 
All had a sniff of it
‘Twas a bummer of an ass drummer’s fine art.

The show opened with a trumpet fanfare 
As the audience were gasping for air
The one that had farted 
Had finished what started
Loose poop ran everywhere from the goofs chair.

It was certainly a roof raising poop
Putrid poop much too watery to scoop
A runny stream of yuck
Those sent to mop upchuck
So uncouth for the enterprising troop.

The show stopped when cleaners needed a drink
They had to quit work because of the stink
Pooper was shown the door
But he farted once more
And the audience had tears on the blink.

So then the music commenced and played on
But the spell was broken, magic was gone
One by one people left
With hearts sadly bereft
Gone with gust of a flatulent gas bomb.

Crazy Gods

Crazy God

A God was cross with Babylon
That they would build a monolith
To reach him at a distance date
Who are they to compete with me
He had said so angrily
So he threw confusion to the wind
So they’ll not know what others say
An evolution to begin
Today we speak with not much sense
We nod our heads but there’s descent
The ten commandments is a myth
Accept for those who have beliefs
I am confused by all God demands
Sometimes a God is such a Child
Who stamps His feet each time he errs
God must be crazy when he goofs
Aligning us with Satan too
On his whim from time to time
Except for beer and football games
I wish to pray and plead with Him
To steer us toward a better course 
Let’s speak again as if we understand
no language in a foreign land
No more Trump Towers to behold
we must reach God another way
And let him keep his sanity

*This poem was written as satire only 
and I am a believer.

Maytime Standard Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
May 14, 2017

Peace, Love and Pie

Thair is this girl called : peace , love & pie . Her dad jumps out of aero planes .

Noeboddy noze why ! She wants 2 jump from aero planes too !

But if her parachute doent open, she wood be thrue ! 

She has a girlfrend called apokkullips ! She duz not cum frum Egypt ,

Or like stepping on the x-men,s space ships ! This girl duzzint have minny cloze !

And she duzzint have any pantyhose ! She just graduated frum hy skool !

But she duzzint have a swimming pool ! She likes jumping rope in a southern park !

Wair rednecks swing flayming mace balls in the dark , and her frends play with

Hoolah hoops , and thay all look like a bunch of goofs !her dad,s job is

Falling frum the sky ! Why thay pay him 4 this . Noe one noze why!...

Let Me Tell You

I hail from the green land
Really green for sumptuous serenades
But too many grey lepers lay on the succulent carpet
And the milk of my land mills through rotten breasts
The windfall of power brings pesty prongs to her nipples

Let me tell you my sad story
Not the blues from the evening guitar

Listen to the pulse of time’s recording
The many moans of mangled voices
And the jubilant choruses of their silencers
Those now mangled, the lathers 
The jubilant mounted through our greenest height

Let me tell you my story, sad
The blues, not from the evening guitar

We talk tough for change
They lay languid in old robes
Expectant of business as usual but
The beastly beards are shaven from goofs while asleep
Change  soon sweeps through this clime
While the silencers snore off

Let me  tell you my story, sweet
From the blue wake brass, not the night grey gong.

Oops

OOPS!!!!


When the man in charge stumbles and falls
Stops all the laughter and happiness stalls
He fumbles and falters as each decision he goofs’
But declare that his weakness is only an OOPS!!!

When those all around him do the same thing
He lashes with his tongue to give them a sting 
No pardon or mercy for all of his or her goofs'
He gives them no right to call it an OOPS!!!

He may be important in the position he holds
His merciless styles from a heart that is cold
The shouting and screaming as on them he swoops
But he carries on with his acceptable OOPS!!!

He climbs up the ladder of life’s’ success story
And grabs to himself the fame and the glory
But time will go on till this man with his goofs’
Will no longer be able to blame it on OOPS!!!

Cane Goofs

When my hair is bristly wire and my back folded into knots
My hands arched and swollen 
And my skin pigment is lost
Will you be mine?
(As long as you promise not to laugh at me)
 
When your knees are knobby pine and your blood filled with clots
Your fuzz escapes your ears 
And your toenails glazed in moss
Can I be yours?
(I’ll try not to laugh at you…)
 
I keep thinking how
Time is a funny thing,
You said,
And sometimes you have to move on
To see what life will bring...
 
But I can’t help but argue
With the thought that makes me wonder
When both our paths grow shorter
Why can't we share our last moments together?

Forget and Let Live

Forget your forgetfulness
Forget your faults
Forget your bewilderments
Forget your misgivings
Forget your follies
Forget your missteps
Forget your miscalculations
Forget your errors
Forget your foolishness
Forget your shenanigans
Forget your goofs
Forget your flubs
Forget your craziness
Forget your senselessness
Forget your blunders
Forget your nonsense
Forget your howler
Forget your madness
Forget your monkeyshine
Forget your witlessness
Forget everything that is causing you stress
Forget all
Forget and let live
Yes!

Away With Olds

Away with weeping
Away with goofs
Away with drags
Away with fret
Away with former self
Away with former ways
Away with former sins
Away with former works
Away with former deeds
Way gone
Love 
Lord

The Critic

I’m leader of a Bluegrass Band
A tough critic watches each show
She’s always out there listening
Hears goofs that others never know
 
No reviews in the Newspaper
But after the show, when I’m home 
My wife always gives her review
Caught it all, like a fine tooth comb

She’s heard all of the songs practiced
And knows how they sound when they’re right
She’s heard the harmony singing
Can tell when the harmony’s tight

But as M C, I do ad Lib 
My Critic never has a clue
The few jokes I tell on the stage
She’s never heard, they’re always new

Deface the War On Drugs

What pharmaceutical hypocrisy
Blurred doctor patient relations
Continuous with dealor-junkie satiation 
Arent't we living to eat?

The safety regulators will come down harsh
Trickling down their axiom motif
With Ronald Reagan collectible trading cards

Who's poison beef still feeds
The vacant lunch room lot
And appetite feeds necessity
A supply/demand immortal praxis

So when economists don their hats
Rationally sanitizing the goofs
It's mighty easy the Federally pen
A Riker's Island estate
Keeping the wooly horses busy

While generations pock-marked
Throw themselves towards the dart board
Becoming gangland officiates

What we need is a cleansing rain
To wash the virtual records and shame
Letting ecology grow the way it should

How Much For the ''Tappan Vee'' Bridge

Tradition in old English proves
The plural for roof was once rooves
Back then grooves in courses
From heavy hooved horses
Formed goofs in the turf known as gooves


Author's note:  We keep a dial telephone in the house so that the youts who visit us can try 
it out!  Many have never seen or used one before.  And what does this nonsense have to do 
with the above?

The Last Class

We entered the last last that one final day
"It's our last class with you, Mr. Daniel," one student dared to say.
The teacher read us a story, pausing to wipe away tears
Then he told us things we'll cherish for years.
Promises of friendship, email addresses exchanged
Whether we liked it or not, our lives were about to change.
"If you need me, I'm here," said the teacher, much wise
"I'll be your friend," he told us, brushing tears from him eyes.
"I don't do this every year; this time is special."
"I'll help you out when, with trouble, you meddle."
"Everyone makes mistakes, we all have our goofs."
"OSS doesn't kill you; we have suffecient proof!"
Sometimes people are given to us for a reason
They stay just a while, maybe a season.
But however you came to ma, as on to greater things I dash,
I will forever remember you; especially the last class.

Memory Pack Rat

This photograph of me and you
gauze red shirt and winter sunned
on our way to New York City
to traipse the town and eat Chinese
is still on my refrigerator door.
Twelve years passed, maybe more.
Somehow our smiles with open mouths
to catch the air of frozen thoughts
in camera eyes and shutters and clicks
self-set on the roof of your car,
still grab me in passing and make me look. 
That day, we listened to Ben on the radio.
Laughed like goofs to our self-made
bootlegs of concerts where we stood three feet from the stage.
Me, being asked to play his piano.
Him - with birthing shoulders, so small, so slight.
It's dizzying really.
We escaped time, life, history
just to step our own feet in that city smell,
that breath of sidewalk vendors, almost Spring tulips,
stone statues and salty sand from the last snowfall of winter.
All this time, and this one photograph, held with a tacky magnet on my refrigerator
holds a memory, and a memory, and a memory again.
- and people wonder why I am a pack rat...

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