Long Brown nose Poems
Long Brown nose Poems. Below are the most popular long Brown nose by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brown nose poems by poem length and keyword.
Coulda been
the Hand of the Lying King,
if I didn’t tell the truth so much
Coulda been
Caesar’s right hand man,
if I was kill willing
to have a shogun trigger touch
Coulda been
chief consigliore renown
for the don Corelone spiked crown
But I never wanted to know
where the blood money
was body bag buried underground
Coulda been dark knighted Haman Faustian
All I had to diablo do was unjust be Equus no-good;
give breaking bad Darth Vader viper counsel, wearing a cobra hood
Terminator words that would crush the skull bones
Coulda been the Vice Hand
standing behind the golden chalice image,
ruling drunkenly on the Babylonian Empire throne
Coulda been
the Spartan Hand of the Grecian warlord,
but I loved peace too much
Told the Jezebel whisperers of the royal court,
don’t try to finger me to be the next flesh merchant of death ...
I don’t tear traffick in such ~ City-state grunts suffer enough
Coulda been
Caesar’s right hand hatchet man,
if I had promoted Herod cockatrice thoughts
to condor hatch crucifixion plans
If I had been parrot inclined
to whisper
some patriot mischief in Pharaoh’s ear ...
I coulda been
sitting next to the pirate power,
making the brown-nose boot lickers fear
Coulda been
the Iron Hand of the President,
if I truly had a crafty guile mind to
take a sticky dip ...
deep in them pockets of citizen you
Coulda been
the sixth finger of king Midas’ hand
But, breaking the golden rule,
just wasn’t the ambitious rear end
I was willing to career bend
If I was more Balaam money bag motivated —
Fee willing to put a Judas hand under the table;
and with an Iscariot silver patch-eye gaze,
look the other way as freedom get disabled
I coulda been
Pharaoh’s right hand man
I coulda been
the one who doused the torch
in Lady Liberty’s hand
I coulda been
Caesar’s right hand man
I coulda been
the one who lit the Pilate
in Nero’s hand
Coulda been
the right Hand of the Lying King,
if I didn’t roar the Judah truth so much
But I was born
a left hand of the Zion King,
who gave a righteous Resurrection roar,
echoing throughout eternity
“Truth isn’t truth,”
that’s what some Cap’n Obvious toady recently said
He was pissy mad, when his angry tears wet the bed
Lieutenant Rudy Brown-Nose
a has-been sniffing the swine caboose breeze:
Loco breath wafting
between sulfuric methane, prune puckered lips —
sphincter pie holes half-closed
Politrician power tools pocket plugged into their patsy roles,
says with dark chaos authority: Everything is under control
Public trust pirates,
dressed in
populist parrot disguise,
love $inging tavern song$
Foaming out the frothy, dark-amber lager lies
Iscariot getaway chariots
be karaoke squealing yellow snow —
highway robbery melodies
Money green
dollar rain
golden showers
On silver cloud vapor piles,
sticky six-finger flies
be spitting out
buzz-kill dung beetle cries
Butt of the jokes be the wench reward
for the stumbling,
power-drunk whores
Wet froggy kisses
scraping the sky
for a few rubles more
$ee the neon $ign $potlight in the $ky,
it’s showing some Two-Face, penny-wise liar
(Riddling?)
Ritalin up the final justice score
Bat-crazy, Commish slum lord
got the Lewd tenant
boot-licking
filthy lucre crumbs on the floor
Dog whistles got the railroad cage bent ...
Wall Street woofers on a barf paid, carny bark yell
Every foul commodity bowel movement
do slug leave a regurgitated profit stench vomit trail
While the vote suckers are on the slow buy,
their Good Ship Lollipop is on a quick sell
“Truth isn’t truth,”
is what some Cap’n Crunch croaker just said
That’s a mouth full of self-serving, apron purse ties
Sweet Georgia boo pecan pie is tasty cow pucky lies
Go on ... take another covetous slice,
and a couple more burglar bites
Wet froggy kisses
scraping the sea below
for a few dollars mo’
Spitballing Prince of Tides
love muddying the waters so
Sold old truths as new lies
“Truth is truth,”
ain’t what some Cap’n Ahab toady just white lie wail said
It crocodile aqua lava seems
the Cap’n Nemo Lying King
is gonna sleep well tonight, on your hot Pompeii water bed
A Wolf...A Lamb...A Wolf
Forgetting myself...started with me
To be sweet, to be quiet...to fit in.
Conformity!
Impress by agreement. A Lamb I could be.
Convince all my thoughts;
Copacetic is me
*So it began...
My best thought is, I'm at peace. I'm content.
Be positive! I can do this!
Be like a lamb.
Softly; I'm a breeze. Calm in my soul.
Gently I'll allow, only good thoughts to flow
Small, inconspicuous... I'll learn, it's me
Just nod in unison, always agree.
*I am a Lamb...
My favorite thought is;
I'm about love, not despair.
Quiet my being.
Silently there.
My thoughts do whisper,
a pleasing hushed ease
'I am not conflict'
For lambs, only, please.
What?!!
*I am a Lamb.
My finest thought is;
I'm wonderfully bright.
As a golden suns warmth slowly softens my light.
Embrace others truths, as they are my own.
So they won't see it, I can't be alone. Suddenly. I feel
like a liar!...A cheat!
Conforming isn't me!
My own thoughts rise, to defeat.
Forcing their way, repossessing my soul
I am 'not' a lamb kept under control!
Fueling my mind, with courage and might.
My confidence is back! Submission won't fight.
*I am 'Not' a lamb.
My true thoughts are; I'll regain what's been sold.
Get back my old self, feel enlightened and bold.
My thoughts are not truths! What I believe, is my right!
My true self is brave! Be damn sure, I will bite!
*I Am a Wolf
My only thought now is; I'm seeing me, so clear.
I am 'not' a Lamb,
I'm a Wolf without fear!
To deviate or follow. To protest or agree.
My thoughts are my own!
To decide, up to me
*I AM a wolf!
Now, I am genuine. Honest and free.
I'll behave as I choose, I've re-found the true me!
I will brown nose to no one or be a doormat for love.
Take me or leave me, herein and above.
I'll be contented and scrappy, 'cause that's who I am!
Definitely a Wolf.
Not particular to Lamb.
I Will not comply
I Will not lie down
I Will not go quietly
I Will not submit
I Will not roll over
I Will not shut up
I Am Not a Lamb!
Good morning Poison Squirrels,
Today I am going to address your bowel problems
My class groans.
We don’t like to think about them.
We are teens.
Your mouth chews up food, right? Asks Mr. Lee.
Our science teacher is way too cheery in the morning.
One student out of thirty-one nods.
Mr. Lee focuses on her.
Saliva lubricates the food then sends it down the esophagus.
He draws a saxophone-looking cartoon on the board.
Muscles of the esophagus propels the food into your tummy!
He says this with a flourish, and shakes a couple of red pompoms.
One girl laughs. Same girl.
She must be gunning for an A.
Your stomach muscles breaks the food down into smaller pieces.
Actually, turns it into a paste much like poi, it is called chyme.
“Why don’t we call it poi?” asks a student who never is interested.
“That’s an interesting question!” Mr. Lee says.
“A very interesting question.”
A small giggle starts from somewhere.
He gives me a sharp look, and I realize it was from my throat.
“Sorry,” I say, not meaning it at all.
He nods.
As if I was serious.
Maybe I can still keep my C
“Next we have the small intestines,” says Mr. Lee.
He has continued to draw on his cartoon.
Does anybody know what organs add the digestive juices?
“OOOOHHHH!” someone says in a disgusting way. Dang it! It was me!
“Liver?” Miss I-shall-get-my-A says.
Science guy nods.
“Anybody else?” He asks hopefully.
“Heart?” our other class clown says.
There is a shriek of laughter.
Actually, several.
Now I wish I had said that.
Mr. Lee is not looking quite as happy.
“Pancreas?” Another brown-nose yells out.
Mr. Lee nods. “And Gallbladder,” he adds.
The drawing looks almost done, and he is getting toward the bottom.
“The large intestine is next,” he says.
“Anybody care to guess how long it is?”
“Seventy five feet?” the clown yells out.
We all laugh.
Mr. Lee is looking a whole lot less happy.
We finally get down to the part where the rectum evacuates.the waste.
I wisely put a hand over my traitorous mouth.
playground politics
we zap and zip
read my lips
we hide and seek
from teacher's peek
on swings
we wing
on slides
we cried
marbles play
swords we flay
should i repeat
another beat
marbles play
swords we flay
never mind
what we find
king of the hill
jack and jill
story told
she was very bold
jill rode jack
on his back
right over there
under the stairs
we peered
like deer
we all hushed
behind a bush
it was all an act
that was a fact
two bunnies
rubbing tummies
that was it
don't have a fit
we are kids
yes we did
run the playground
round and round
dodge a ball
hide behind a wall
scrape a knees
fall on a bee
hide behind fatty
flirt with patty
hide a corner
there's a loner
hop scotch here
volleyball there
shoot some hoops
assemble troops
we are kids
yes we did
run the playground
round and round
yet get this
gee whiz
stars and stripes borne
teachers scorn
now they come out
to shout
their eyes
and voices chastise
what fools
no praying, too
we cuss
and fuss
we play
our way
yet they dread
if we bow our heads
is this
not preposterous
all i know politics seed
its ugly face bred
3/26/17-No rose again Note-Cyndi wrote in her critique (and I laugh at her) that it is demeaning to describe a child as fatty. Please. Can someone direct her and maybe the judges, too, to playground politics, anti bullying and the world that some of these kids face. It's called reality.Yes, they face this kind of ridicule everyday. It is sad. Yet would it be better to write a bunch of brown nose crap just to be politically correct? No. I just write what I see and feel, more of the pulse. No facade. And especially no artificiality that some here like to swim in.
I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
I never cared for your fake
Eddie Haskell face at all
Your tart tongue cut my birthday cake ...
seedy, greedy hands took a slice not small
This here Beav got a nose that can tell,
and you no good weasel got a bad putrid smell
Your flattering lips
is always greasing the dish spoon
Serving up hollow compliments every time
your pitter patter enter the room
Been hearing your chitter chatter far too long,
the gift of your gab is like a warped vinyl song
You’re an annoying teapot whistling on and on
I never liked you,
and your bad breath words
that smell like dung
I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
I never took a shine
to your Lady Conniva brown nose talk
Always got your face between the buns,
making it real hard for a person to walk
Your motives are naked to me,
my open eyes they can rightly see
You got a wrong purpose in your heart,
don’t really care about nobody but you
But I ain’t gonna let you getaway go-cart
with whatever it is you’re planning to do
Because I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
Saw right thru your phony facade too
Yes, yes ... yes I did
I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
Never did like you
Now how you like that —
hearing the truth!
One day, one time, God spoke to me.
The Creator who knows everything supposedly,
had a question that needed answering from yours truly.
"You're always helping others in need less fortunate than you,
and many of these people aren't particularly liked by you.
Why do you do all of the charitable things that you do?
What's your reward? What's in it for you?
Most times you commit these acts anonymously,
so you receive no recognition, no praise, no publicity.
I Am All And Know All but this baffles me.
Why do you do what you do SillyBilly?"
My reply to my Creator was simply,
"The meek shall inherit the earth and live heavenly
as promised by my Creator of all that is and will ever be.
My Creator has shared that People Helping People is the key
and I'm just doing what I can to relieve my Creator from some of the responsibility.
It's just my way of saying, Thanks For Creating Me."
My Creator then looked sadly down upon me
and said, "I don't know how to say this, but I'm very sorry.
You are hereby sentenced to hell for all eternity.
I need to work on this. Guess you could say it's my pet peeve,
but I don't tolerate any of they who brown nose their deity."
My time spent in hell has dispelled all of the rumors
about God not having a dark sense of humor.
Don’t pardon those demockratory quips,
them dishonest mistakes
Unless you love
walking thru a field of verbal cow chips
Beware! Aye lips very often halitosis snip
Here is a rue unpardonable exit tip:
Brown nose aroma
is blew gaslight, pig methane lit lisp
Klepto kaboom air be a dung hole whiny dip
Oink noise travels so muddy morals quick —
Laundered money echoes
radar register as a bat crazy, bombast blip
Motives contraire is err bound on a paper ego trip
‘Nocchio utterances are devious windbag equipped
These long nostril tones
fill vacuous space ‘tween the ears with jingle plastic
Pirate gasp fares exorbitantly moves the coin traffic
Oval thought bubbles have a carny bark grip:
Pilfer adorn pox troubles
will make you covid yourself
Verbal Bent ain’t nothing but a Fraudian slip
Rublecon double crossing share of blowback scrip
Usual Suspects don’t racket give a rap sheet rip
Plunder cover blown,
toothy alibis and enamel lies on a tear telly drip
Mice despair got toilet sold for crooked flush catnip
Cheshire cries steal boo hearts trending fear obit
As the covetous pleas
of pickpocket thieves
Take the vault temple with moneychanger surfeit
You’ve an ahrse the size of Jupiter
and a head that couldn’t be stupider
as for your teets I’m not sure they exist
you’re a nasty narcissist
brown nose and lips
probably Nazi in a past life
genocide your pastime
I know you’re a fool
when given authority
acting awful awfully
so without a doubt undoubtedly
I won't repeat repeatedly
unhonourable honesty
be assuredly assured of me
if war you want then war there be
conditions unconditionally
psychopath psychology
never ending endlessly
forever I will torridly
horror thee most horribly
sorrow follow you freely
tomorrow will always be
hollowed unhappily
happy days for me.
So if you seek to leave me weak
beat me down unkindly speak
will treat you a descending trip
no words will ever leave my lip.
I'll let leak lethal upheaval
devil level illegal
drug and needle
and if I need more
to feed pour you'll endure evil
a war we war where you will weaken
worn down sorry sore and beaten
words won't work best be believing
when it ends you won't be breathing
your breed will cease undisputedly
removed unrefuted conclusion peace
Pinocchio politicians
got long nose ambitions
Pirate patch parrot thoughts
in the bosom
keel dereliction decisions
Gender gypsy tramps bought,
paid horizontal submission
Whore whispers being said
Global security is premature burial
on a bald eagle spread bed ...
squirting liquid lies: moo white noise emission
Face paste looks like a Cyrano rinse condition
Gator tears shaking
from a dirty tongue megaphone
Broken spit vows
gutter belly creeping back home
One less bell to answer:
no hearing mo’ tales of wives wronged
Lewd lute lips playing lover musical chairs,
one less sitter —
drunk odious woman fallen down the stairs
Fake profit fiddlers
are mannequin pocket piddling
and double-talk diddling ,
Nero nay palms are starting grease fires
in the negotiating kitchen
Nuclear smoke alarm
on a chirping tweet oral fixation
Fat kick-back Russian roulette fumes ...
it smells like a Cyrano situation
Where’s the ladder and the fire hose,
why ain’t the rubber moving on the road?
Guess you gotta trust the crafty Fahrenheit ones,
with the shortest mercury brown nose