Long Bollocks Poems
Long Bollocks Poems. Below are the most popular long Bollocks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bollocks poems by poem length and keyword.
All the others row the boat slow while I crank up the motor....
Here we go let's start the show, I'm the show boater.
The entrance of the eminent,
with ability that's evident.
Poo fills your pants
as you now know you haven't a chance.
I've had it with those who flow with a transparent talent,
the thumpy clumpy rhyme and rhythm of an elephant,
regardless of their age they should think about retirement,
as a skill that's transparent is a skill that they haven't.
I'm the standard setter and I lack compassion,
my skills unmeasured and better than the competition.
Your rhymes are rotten,
that's why they're forgotten,
you're not the dogs bollocks
you're just the dogs bottom.
I rhyme with a rhythm representing Great Britain,
you rhyme like you've been bitten and are disease ridden.
My hyperactive mind will leave you behind,
I am not being unkind but simple minds,
can't even begin to find the words to bind,
people like you often tend to stumble blind
over the simple single syllable rhyme.
I started writing and I'm unstoppable, it's easy it's natural,
you're a hangover fart that lingers like a holocaust chemical.
I am the only poetic superhuman that's causing confusion,
it's amusing how you need the supervision to point out you're losin'.
You need to train your face to look HUMBLE when defeated,
if you feed what it needs your brain won't crumble depleated.
I'm on a mission to book first place, so when I'm awarded,
I must be applauded, stand and clap don't remain seated.
You need to accept it and expect it,
or quit while you have time to forefeit.
You will blunder under the sound of my THUNDER that goes round,
but if it's misheard,
I've got a box of frost to start biting,
but if that's squandered
and you carry on like a fighter,
I'll strike you with lightning,
one way or another you will not win top writer.
Respect the perspective that my rhyme is perfected,
and to conclude your rhymes are rejected.
Not to be rude but your seat's to be ejected,
it's not that you're bad it's that I am majestic.
9/27/21
Oh bollocks
An impact on health and the wallet
As an alcoholic
Do I know when to call it
No I don't know when to stop s***
I don't care about your trucks or cars with hydraulics
Am I too caught up in trying to frolic
Got to work towards being brolic
In order to be inside and out solid
Grew up in conditions that were squalid
From day one till now still people are being diabolic
It's become pathetic, if I'm honest
Like my life and addictions, so very melancholic
In a world that can be angelic yet also demonic
I've kept to myself, not wanting to be toxic
Staying rogue
Got problems of my own,
Need to try harder and use logic
For my own benefit as well as any on land, in the air, or the aquatic
Can't get anything done with hands in the pocket
I've got to take off quick
Like a rocket
For you, I left a box of chocolate
That I was able to shoplift
Just kidding, I bought it
But I don't want it
Or any fake love, that's just not it
I can't be on it
The real thing is what I intend to accomplish
Got to work hard and not quit
Can't just give up and drop it
I've understood that and never forgot it
I write like bakers bake
my rhymes make earth shake
Going into contest with me was your biggest mistake
I control the earths plates, tectonics, your rhymes are bollocks
I cause land slides and earthquakes
I don't hate but I do devastate,
Is the rhythm of your rhyme hidden?
I'm going back and forth with my decision
I'd like to think it's something I'm missin'
but I cant see it in what you've written,
You stagnate rhymes
I contemplate the punishment for these crimes,
don't harp that you'll defeat me
I'm a giant you can't even see me
Now back and forth like red and meth I hand you over to little missy,
you pissed us both off so we share a rhyme to make you look silly..........
Your rhymes don't even matter
my pockets is gettin' fatter
Yours getting flatter
When you heard the glass shatter
That means me and my homies gathered
Now you bout to feel the wrath of
Somethin' that you wished you hadn't of
And all I can say is back up because I'm bout to act up
It might not concern you but
I'll thermonuclear burn you, you're a human sacrifice
Cuz I be smashing mics with the Passion of Christ and
Stay fully loaded, equipped with action devices
Me n trim shady here to party like Tom Brady
We stay cooler than an Eskimo baby
V is for Victory, we mastered your trickery
Tryna clock like dickory, get smoked like hickory
So please stop the bickery, you can't get rid of me
Fire colabs from here to infinity
you heard her infinity
even with a radar and map you cant find our reality
we're in another galaxy
you've barely the ability of a fetus
how dare you compete with us
and this U S U K special relationship isn't putting you at a handicap
it's natures act, you can't rhyme or rap
put your dick between your legs and make a tail
walk away with your head down cus your insults fail,
the only insult that landed is that you went up against us
with terrible stale dribble
that you squiggle
all brainless and minimal
like an unevolved mammal
writing without the opposable thumb by miracle
sounding dumb and undesirable,
when I read it I became miserable,
I desire a quick fire high flyer
like me with quick wit that aspires but you were dire
and dim, you aint no Trim,
you're a fool who should return to school.
collaboration with Brenda Chiri
first and third Trim
second Brenda
I got a polo neck jumper.
She said they were in.
Pep wears one.
He hasn’t manboobs.
Ribbed, dark grey.
Tighter than it should of been.
With a vintage leather, black jacket.
Sophisticated,continental,
so I bought a pain au chocolate.
From Greggs.
I think he thought I was francais as
I ordered and added si vous plait.
Then blew it by being unable to resist a sausage roll.
Which later I found out to be rouleau de saucisse, not un sausage roll, si vous plait.
“What the bollocks do you look like?”
“Where’s the Milk tray?”
were the first comments at the pub.
But their jealousy was obvious and measurable, being directly proportional to the amount of beer spat out as I walked in.
I ordered a Pernod chaser with my pint of pale ale, small steps.
I’m led on the floor
and it is a bore
I look at the dust
I look at the door
flimmin’ sciatica
soars again
never felt crappier
hoarding pain
Try giving birth
women are thinking,
I can’t do that,
what are you drinking?
stupid comparison
can’t be compared,
I've no lady parts
I’m somewhat impaired,
You're designed to give birth,
it’s actually natural,
so I say it’s worse
getting hit in the sacktual.
The body doesn't protect the balls,
the only vital organs not indoors,
no adjusting in our body, we don't learn or prepare,
breathing control, contractions, or you're almost there,
no experts to care, midwife just there, we don't even swear....
just get hit in the bollocks from out of no where!
There's no wonderous magnificent little life that rewards,
we don't see doctors or ambulance it to hospital wards,
no luxury, that "blame put on us",
and no one gifts or "Congratulates us",
at least women have an upside, something good,
we just worry if it's deadwood.
Unlike the Famous Five,
with capers, japes and adventures,
boats and well stocked picnics, we lived
a back street life. With a sock and masking tape ball
and mucky fat sarnies.
The Family Allowance Five.
Each one of us an extra pound.
With facsimile school photos,
in hand me down jumpers and carving knife tread pumps,
floorboard cricket bat and under the bed air rifle.
Crab apple scrumping and tresspassing for mushrooms,
rabbitting before school,
paper round before school,
milk round before school.
Everything came before school.
Sunburnt scoundrels but "never any bother"
Corrugated asbestos roof walkers.
Cinema ticket hawkers.
Unseen, inconsequential, together but apart.
No roots or football boots.
Hot pot bollocks.
One foot here one foot there.
Immigrants finding their way,
but without the ginger beer.
Bath City football club is an embarrassment to Bath
Most people ain't heard of them the ones who have laugh
Their aim and ambition is to be what they are
And that's like dreaming you're a broken down car
The fixture list came and it says you take part
So you push that car around the track from the start
Their desire is to exist with no plan to go far
They don't have the fire they don't have the heart
We don't show support when it all looks a farce
Don't we deserve something better than this
In good old Bath City where only rugby exists
Football can rot because rugby's the wish
absolute bollocks it's bollocks it is
Lacking intelligence in this rugby territory
it's like they see football the ultimate enemy
Scared of its presence and what it might do
A city with one club yet big enough for two
Our Uni makes athletes Olympian Gold
Bath Rugby competes while the football's on hold
There is a demand, no there's not we get told
"Football's not our game it's just not our mould"
I know Sir James Dyson is a man made in Bath
we're all proud of that, those Hoovers are bad
I say that as slang, his old bosses are mad
They rejected his hoover, how dumb and how daft
Now with your mass fortune beyond simple maths
You can now do what nobody else ever has
Invest in Bath City and put them on the map
You'll be a hero and they won't be crap
Potential so blatant will finally grow
and with it our pride, a pride never known
fill up the stadium with a reason to go
and fans will keep coming if there is a show
The community will bond as it responds to events
when you create dreams the present prevents
those magical days when the cup brings giants
a promotion or two through your generous expense
there's so much potential, they so under achieve
it wouldn't take much for that club to succeed
giving thousands of locals dreams hope and belief
It's you Sir James Dyson can gift what we need
It'll take off like your Hoovers but the football won't suck
with your big fat fortune it won't cost you a buck
it's a bigger football club than we know but its stuck
and it's about our community, it's a gift of good luck
invest in Bath City and the best is to come,
you'll go down in history as the one champion
who did the one thing that nobody had done,
go on mate please it's a job that sounds fun
You think you're Godzilla
but you're just a Gorilla,
that's what happens when you've got gonorrhea,
my skin colours vanilla
my skills are killa and real
you're run of the mill, a fail
can't you tell you didn't do well,
that Kartel manure smell
of Kountry music don't sell,
a wannabe that wants to be on X Factor
in a field riding a wrecked tractor,
tracks that no mind will capture,
you're no rapper, a can't act actor and no rhyme writer
with poor rhyming from your core
the fact is you naturally bore,
getting done by amateurs
that means s**t for sure and below my stature,
take a step back and see the big picture,
there's no record label coming for your signature,
you should turn around and head for the door
and not turn this battle rap into a war,
snore, pass out snore music,
20 years and there's still no use for it,
your rhymes are insignificant
your average skill's no different
stop thinking you're magnificent
and realise you're just a hunt.
Yet you think you're good,
umm missing a nail or screw
let's face facts your music is poo,
can you not make a beat with flow?
Your music makes me sit in a seat depressed and low
through ignorance your skill's seen no grow,
so excuse my rant but your music is pants,
professional status, you've got no clucking chance.
You're so unlikely to upstage my quickly written
lickety split thermonuclear lit quick wit
with whatever you pick
to pull out your bag of tricks
because I'll make it unstick
quicker than thumbs can click through your music,
making videos in which you go on the phone,
cliche prone, stereotype replica
look at ya forever inferior,
making out you've golden interior,
but Postman Pat out delivers letters
and is better with more under the hat
you've empty space where your brain sat,
writing rubbish, getting fat,
one year in I'm getting published
you skank like a grandad with one wish
you long to be served a contract,
take note of the situation
you've been rhyming for a generation,
and you'll never be a sensation,
just a symbol of humiliation,
........ cus Rosko thinks he's the dogs bollocks,
while the rest of us just think he's bollocks.
That's all bossco, that's all I have to country cartel you.
Over and out, they call me Sue.
Is the word “fart” a naughty word
Hope not... I find it cute and giggly
But don't go by me, my mind is a little warped
Words are just words with letters strung together
Strange how any mention of our private parts
Should never be said in public
“Uvula” sounds really naughty
But the dictionary describes it as
“a fleshy extension at the back of the soft palate
That hangs above the throat”
Now if that doesn't sound naughty, I'll eat my shorts!
Here's an old English expression... “bollocks”
Of German origin... related to BALL
And how about “tit”
Again the old dictionary says
“refers to a small New Zealand bird called a “tit”
How can just three innocent letters strung together
Cause little old ladies to titter!
Last but not least we have “dong”
Sounds like a gong as in a bell
So I guess that's where the old expression comes from
“I sure rang his bell!
In closing, I'd like to say this
I had a freaking good time writing this one
But we all know what “freaking” is
It's a sort of polite way of saying
The granddaddy of all swear words
Just seven letters starting with an “f”
It's “farting” of course, what were YOU thinking?
© Jack Ellison 2014
I have always, always loved you…
Even to this day, for you, the roses in my garden still bloom.
All I ever done was sustain their beauty, year by year.
So long it has been, since you were last here.
I remember the moment when we first met, old friend.
My inner desires were repressed by those youngun years of innocence.
It was in this very garden then, that you caressed me in your arms.
Handsome you were, bollocks, you are still so handsome.
Hell, I may have also hated you as well.
Always gracefully prancing about in my garden.
Watering every flower with that pale blue pail of yours.
I could swear, you were as happy as a frog in a forest.
Yet your smiling face has often made me wonder,
Have you ever had any burdens?
Envious of your luxuries, I held contempt for thee.