Long Banged up Poems
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Time and again finances stretched
to breaking point
crackle, pop, and snap
'curse Alfred E. Neuman
smiles at yours truly
(this luckless papa)
with with his toothy gap
haint even Abel nor Cain,
nor I pull myself up
courtesy frayed bootstrap
dirt poor penniless deathtrap
compliments countless many
mashup mechanical mishap
no need to repeat, nor recap,
the litany against
fickle finger of fate
driving me into almshouse
more loathsome versus caught
amidst tsunami size whitecap,
where quick demise accompanied
by deafening air splitting thunderclap,
whereby bolt of blinding lightning
cleaves heavenly vault and
(Friday January 3rd, 2020)
instantaneously immense
mick canonical jagged dagger
blithely grasped courtesy
Usain St Leo Bolt
(yes Olympic runner -
fastest man on Earth
nonchalantly thwarts bajillion volt
tickles hands of said marathoner
analogous to wiretap
blessedly before brilliant
atmospheric electrical discharge
fizzled in feebly limp attempt
to extinguish "fake" charade,
facade, and mockup i.e.
mine burned out life
of Riley (really) ernest
and frank failed to zap
(think) mortally - merely
surface epidermis braised flesh,
synonymous burned out,
bedraggled banged up
resembling an old
and/or rickety vehicle,
none other than our trusty heap
Uriah (hit) to guess
aforementioned oft money pit
accursed said automobile.
I’m trying a new refreshing write
My blessed Soul word out of sight
Maybe my view should truly change
Having a good look at new poetic range
I don’t want to upset the infamous P.D.**
The one who’ll police me in 3D
Undercover poet, that apparently is not?
If I reach for my pen, he’ll take his shot!
On the run with out my needed soul
I better hide in that deep dark hole.
As he Ass kisses all those lovely ladies
Maybe he wants to have their babies??
Taking advantage of his poetic power ;-)
I bet in reality he’s as sweet as a flower!
What horrid word’s I use without my belief
If I get caught, he may smash out my teeth!
A poet on the run from a cop so hot?
In P.Ds eyes, a poet, that I am not??
To be or not to be, that is his question?
Fountain Pen to my head, I’ll sign his confession!
Banged up in this inspirational cell
“Not a poet” written on walls of limerick hell
“P.D waz here “ plastered for all to see
As soon as he reaches for his pen, you better turn and flee!!
(Welcome and embrace our new Poet friend
I’ll love and embrace him until the end
I trust he’ll visit my poems, and call them crap
That’s my plan, body armoured up, ........I’ll just have a nap.)
**Poetry Destroyer
Only Kidding P.D. And welcome :-)
Obviously, i can't tell you what form this is!!
Form:
The tall black tulips stood
Stood over the petunias
Purple petunias
Shining and swaying in the sun
Stretching
Stretching to the far horizon
Tall and proud the tulips stood
Over the purple blanket
The herd in the distance snorted
Scratched
And stampeded toward the tulips and petunias
A heard of white mean oxen
Stampeded
Stampeded over the tulips and petunias
Over the purple blanket
Viola’s Mother shouted
“Viola!
Viola, get under the table!
The table!”
And they all were covered
She and her brothers were covered
And her sisters were covered
Covered by the white cloth
And in deadly silence they waited
Waited
The white oxen trampled
Trampled the furniture
Burnt
Burnt the curtains and the houses
Banged
Banged up the piano
Destroyed
Destroyed up and down, right and left
Stole
Stole the precious things
Killed
Killed the neighbors
The young wide eyes
Black eyes
Did not understand why
Why
White oxen had so much hate
Why so much hate
For lovely black tulips and purple petunias
So many black tulips
Lay dead
Up and down, right and left
Dead
Other tulips fled along the railroad
Fled
Others lay bent and injured
Injured
Protecting the young petunias from the herd
Never
Never to speak of it again
Only
Only rising, rising
To survive
(published in Verse-Virtual in July 2021)
He knew he had rubbed against some big shoulders.
Some like him and other were anoyed. What bothered him was they all existing relationships of there own. Some were ones you didn't wanna get involved with, some were brotherish, some were fools who aligned for fun and entertaining the boss. The one where you were instructed to stroke the ego, of top ranked superstars often meant learning a something that detailed your place in the company. some of these relationships were real, these guys almost lived together. I remember one friday night the camera guy told me that saturday starts after friday, I thought he was helping me with being on time. But this jerk drank a six pack in my locker room knowing the boss uses the new guys lockerroom as his office, to help the new guys get instruction. Five members of the staff were in this large lockerroom with me and two new guys, and we separated to get dressed, well we had private roomes and showers,I showered and came out, and the boss asked me if i had a problem. I said know, he pulled up a bag and asked whats this? I said it aint mine. He leaned over to sniff me. And then the jerk came in and said it mine. It didn't do me any favors, later the Boss told me I should have told him it was the camera guys' what's up with that Jerk or something. Then I realized, they was positioning me. He stuck me in With Giant Crusha, the big guy who doesn't understand his own strenght. I was bruised, banged up and the next night he booked me againstSwainson Thrush and Marsh Wren, they tossed me out the ring in that handicap match, and dove down on me from every angle.
I looked up and masked men were flying everywhere. Man dude got me cornered and his elbow busted up me mouth. I had to get a manager man. I thought my mind and soul was solid enough
to get me through changes, but man dealing with people and taking care of contractual deals man: swamp aint big enough for the fox and the grouse.: croons the mockingbird. Sometimes the fox needs a little guidance. Thats why I hired the Services of Super Acco. Make the swamp into a lake let me do my thang! Factors of Producing a World Class Where to be admired. I'm the best Where anybody have ever seen! Kayfade, or starred I am the where: where they all wanna be!
Those few hours in the morning, when you’d like to be forgiven
You never get them back
Those few hours in the morning, when you want to be forgiven
No you never get them back
I wish the dawn would last forever
I wish the afternoon would not attack
That money that you spent when you were dumb and twenty-something --
You never get it back
That money that you spent when you were dumb and twenty-something
No you never get it back
If I had a cent for each misfortune,
You know I’d have a great big stack
The strength that you exhausted on the hillside with your boulder,
You never get it back
The strength that you exhausted on the hillside with your boulder,
No you’ll never get it back
And those homemade wings you flew with,
They’re all banged-up and cracked
Those nights you hung out in the sordid alleys of approval
You’ll never get them back
The night you hung out in the sordid alleys of approval
No you’ll never get those back
You woke up with a headache from the Hades
And felt like you’d been stretched upon the rack
Those few hours in the morning, when you’d like to be forgiven
You never get them back
Those few hours in the morning, when you ask to be forgiven
No you never get them back
I wish the dawn would last forever
I wish the afternoon would not attack
As a good gardener would do,
she had to evaluate the quality of her trees plants and fruit,
She saw that some were rotten; they had spoiled at the root.
Unforgivness and resentment suffocated her delicate tree,
It was time to prune the essences of it in its entirety,
Finding the initial cause was how she would now prepare,
Going a little deeper into the earth that had many layers.
From the time this tree was a seed,
It had glitches, cracks and lived amongst weeds,
Perhaps damaged from the packaging
Or banged up through the sifting
Causing some deformities and in need of some spiritual lifting.
Resenting the other trees,
For they were far more stunning than thee,
This garden had suffered through many damaging storms,
Causing animosity that took on different shapes and forms,
sometimes her fruit seemed a bit bitter and irate
Forgiveness was the only cure to transform this ugly hate.
Sniping away at what was easy for her eyes to see,
Then changing the soil all together to make it once again healthy
For in a season or two, what all this work would do
Would allow this trees fruit to look and be brand new.
By: sabina Nicole
Contest: secondhand emotion
Written: 1-14-12
Jock stumbled - pals called him a wus
(No injury was obvious)
But Jock bruised his willy
And now he feels silly
With todger strapped up in a truss
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
Old Jock had injured and bruised his man thing
His doc said "Jock, you'll need a tartan sling"
He's now looking quite built
Bulging under his kilt
Lassies swoon when he does the Highland fling.
After a week his thing turned black and blue
Jock said "hoots mon, what am I ganna do"
But he'd left it too late
Doc had to amputate
And now poor Jock has to sit on the loo.
WRITTEN BY TOM CUNNINGHAM
He washed his new jock, it was new
So it tightly embraced both its crew
But after the race
Oh what a disgrace
His now aching partners were blue
WRITTEN BY JOHN LAWLESS
Jock stumbled and he landed face down
Injuring the jewel in his crown
His bruised pride and joy swelled
By awe it was beheld
Jock's tackle became talk of the town.
The doctor said I know just the thing
To give support to your ding-a-ling
Doc got Jock's bits strapped up
Jock swore and he cussed
For doc said it could be longstanding.
Jock's dilemma can be seen by all
He's going nuts because of the fall
He's craving free willy
To swing willy-nilly
And longs to unstrap his cannon ball.
WRITTEN BY BELLE BELLEVUE
Now Jock knew about liquid nitrogen
But sprayed on far more than he might have done
So just when it mattered
One tap and it shattered
And Jock said Hoots mon, me old fright’ner’s gone
He said Doc, I need a new caber
My wife has never gone through labour
The Doc held his gaze
Grabbed three treble A’s
And sewed on on a three foot light sabre
WRITTEN BY TERRY FLOOD
Jock managed to get his willy banged up,
He cried loud like a little newborn pup,
Stayed in bed a week,
It hurt to take a leak,
All because he slipped on his sippy cup
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
IF ANYONE WISHES TO ADD POEMS PLEASE SOUPMAIL THEM TO ME
Men glassed, broke, gunned down, dying
Why do they feel the need for all this fighting,
Over pigment precious postcodes and petty people lying,
Now there up in the sky flying.
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
One stupid situation now causes a life to be taken,
Everyone seems to be be carrying a knife, gun or weapon,
Which is fine until disrespect is thrown around for fun,
Your disrespect has you staring down the barrel of a gun,
And then bang you’ve just disrespected the wrong one,
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
A war on the streets has begun,
It’s to late for mothers to try and save there sons,
Ones banged up 25 to life
Another’s young soul is soaring through the skies.
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
As you rise ranks you slaughter your brothers homies the lot
This is what you really want to be on top,
Putting people 6 feet under Before they can steal your slot,
It’s easy right all it took was just one solitary shot.
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
You fiercely fight for this so called rep,
And wont tolerate discriminative disrespect,
Yet the you the streets preach racism and hate
Ruling with violence so you can dominate.
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
They don't understand you have to protect your people,
Save the ones you love from such poverty and evil,
While keeping the food on the table,
The streets holla to make an easy dollar,
But at what price is a human life,
Think before you pull out that knife.
Lay down your guns,
To save our daughters and sons,
Lay down the weapons,
Before more lives are taken,
No more souls need to be souring through the skies.
The more I think about this strife
The more I want to take his life
Some sickening, evil, hellish brute
Returned to his primal roots
And every step that he will take
His humanity shall forsake
God help him if we cross
For I’ll make him atone for our loss
Enraged and blind, there is no pain
There’s only solace to be gained
Now he’s Abel and I’m Cain
He won’t breathe again, can’t breathe again, won’t breathe
The only mistake that God has made
And on his grave the sun shall fade
He’s declared war and soon he’ll know
That we never walk alone
He must have suicidal whims
Even without his intentions
To kick us while we’re on the ground
Dirt isn’t all that’s down
I’m wide awake and I thirst for blood
Nothing satisfies like a flood
I’ll turn this ground into red mud
Breathe…
I don’t care if I’m just as bad as he
I’m already banged up mentally
My vengeance is all I can see
He won’t breathe again, can’t breathe again, won’t breathe.
On the run, again
Being chased by rogue police
I got to protest
That I’m innocent
I’m a law-abiding criminal
I mean citizen
On the last exit to wonderland
I ended up all banged up in hospital
After this constant battle
With guns and knives
Another one bites the dust
On my hospital bed, I’m reminiscing
Of how many friend’s I lost
To this urban war
I thank God
That I don’t drink Bourbon anymore
Side effects lets me land face first on the floor
So, that chapter of my life I had to close the door
I’m currently checking my final score
I’m not going back to the lab again
I went from vegetable to a surgical guinea pig
Talk about Frankenstein’s worse nightmare
I’m out again now you can stop and stare…