Long Gormless Poems
Long Gormless Poems. Below are the most popular long Gormless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gormless poems by poem length and keyword.
"Novitiate"
Wading through
turgid mainstream
Novitiate makes her
way to the bottom rungs
of the Clean Team
Where dreams are
captured a.m. p.m. .
on the run with
weeping neutered minds
zero sublime
same old, same old
Asks herself,
“Where’s the substance?
Am I gormless too?”
rewards are Molasses,
Sugar Plums and
Glory, if that's you
It’s like dipping your spoon
in Alphabet Soup
re-arranging letters.
Shirley Temples with
no flaming
Bombe Alaska clue
pour the brandy,
light the flame.
Ignite something,
heart, mind or soul
covert intelligence
wonderful electric
minds pollinating
intellectual beehives,
"where's all the dripping
honey?"
Novitiate dreams
Go punch a hole in the sky
block all emotional rissoles
it’s not a question of
do or die
the Game is called
take-the-ride, at all times
avoid blood-sucking Vampires
Strict insects in an
ultra strict machine
watching their wings
flutter pretty, all beat
in time bang against
a silent wall
koutou three times
It aint about numbers baby
nor who’s who in the Zoo
it’s about writing your story
lock, stock and smoking barrel
keeping it true
Cover all mirrors
old is dead
born is new
Mornings rise with Sun
Fold your cards,
Hearts are trumps
Win-Win
what's done is done
time to de-robe and run, run, run
You're a novitiate skating
daily in your black
Nun's habit, it's way way
tragique, it's all a bit,
"La députée a raconté
une histoire très tragique",
find a new Boo.
Passports,
TRANSIT LOUNGE
Airport
Escape the Zoo.
Time to Do-the-Do
Novitiate throw
off your Black habit
Perfume
Rouge lipstick
New shoes
Yeah, put on your
Kavorka
New You
Double Deluxe Choc Chip
take the double cream
and cherry too.
Escaping the Zoo
True Romance.
OUR STORY
Me and You
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
"Temple of Love"/Johnny Hollow
https://youtu.be/p64wbdRBzjk
Frank said: "what's the story?"
Sid said: "what story's that then?"
Frank looked at Sid
Sid looked at Frank
Silence for a minute
Gormless both men.
"Slug ate my lettuce"
Sid pointed to a corner near his shed
"Eeeeeh, well tha' knows what that
means don't ya?"
"What's that then?"
"Time for a cuppa tea Sid"
"Best put kettle on then"
"Strange things them slugs aren't they?"
"Pity, poor little buggers lost their
shells, eh?"
"Shells?"
"That's Snails"
"Nails?"
Sid looked at Frank
Frank looked at Sid
Without gorm, both men
sat down in silence.
Frank stood looking at his plants
Sid said: "Frank what you looking at?"
Frank said: "My plants"
"Oh, well then what, I'll join you"
Frank looked at Sid
Sid looked at Frank
They both then slowly turned their heads to look at the plants
Silence ensued
Gormless both men!
"What a' the doing?"
Said Sid to Frank
"Growing"
"Ah well then...can you see them?"
"Stood here looking, heard 'em moving"
Frank slowly turned to Sid and then slowly back again
Sid slowly turned to Frank then slowly back again.
Gormless both men!
"Funny thing these runner beans aren't they?"
"Why?"
"Don't move, don't even walk"
"Mmmmmmmmmm?"
Without gorm, both men.
The worst of wars occur within the home
The earth’s a mother whom we treat with scorn.
Although on foreign trips we gormless roam
We care not how our holy mother’s torn.
The planes’ emissions do not disappear
Our waste is thrown to devastate all space.
The universe is bounded like a sphere
The noxious decorates with thoughtless trace.
The condoms and the women’s bloody cloths
The petrol fumes, the plastic bags, the base
Are scattered like a demon’s tortured wrath
Across our mother’s universal face
Can we avert the death of earth, this fate?
Will we dawdle till it is too late?
Birdwatching from a hide
Two old gents sit side by side
As the rain settles in
Sid reaches for his tin
"Cheese sandwich Frank?"
"Errrr, no thanks, they look a bit rank"
"It's only cheese and bread you know?"
"Yes, but how old Sid, HOW old?"
"I found them in my shed, been there a while since they were made"
"Look....a Water rail Sid"
Binoculars then accidentally fall and hit the floor
They can't be used anymore
The shy bird is spooked
The bang made it think someone could shoot
In the confusion of it all
The sandwich tin takes a fall!
Sid looks out of the hide, the bird has gone and so's his pride!
Sid then looks at his friend Frank
Quiet and still his returning glance
A Robin then lands in front of the hide
It looks at both men sat in the hide
It seems to realise from their look
That there's no story in their book!
They both then watch the bird fly away
Sit in silence for the rest of the day
A quiet stillness settles in
As two gormless men sit with an empty tin.
Shall I relay a sidesplitting hoot from my “care-free” on campus fun phase?
It entails a laboratory session involving three mystic world colossal oafs.
One had an unerring penchant for Laurel and Hardy mishaps, the other this beautiful dreamer whose attention span rambled for miles.
a meandering focal point tourist with no yen for one spot or one task.
As for me the fault-prone narrator I had comic book deficits too.
Pulitzer Prize petty fog pinpoint, fastidious fat head by gum!
At the hearth of this tale is a chemistry prep that was doomed from an innocent outset.
It was aptly enough “Anodyne,” this soon to be splitting head bushfire.
From uproarious weighing scale howlers, to starter material gaffes, to say nothing of sequential missteps, Mount Everest blunders galore.
Our ill-fitting glassware threw tantrums, miscellaneous beaker’s burst dams, reactants rose up, a calamitous farce, they shed buckets of organic stuff down the sink.
For all my precision I seemed a right goof with this risible maximum brownie point fetish.
My beautiful dreamer close comrade who by turns Walter Mitty pale stand-in now immune to chaotic abandon at large.
That accident-prone other pal
would be every insurer’s worst nightmare.
Nearby class mates could barely restrain widespread glee at us laughing stock hapless quaint bunch.
The poor teacher in charge had a seizure, quite gormless, green faced and gobsmacked.
“I wonder what next can go wrong.”
“Quite frankly I shudder to think as you merry buffoons soldier on.”
This thunderstruck teacher was known as the “doyen of do it right down to the dottiest detail.”
After a humorous pause his eyeballs rotate in jocular mode then made a ginormous grand gesture.
“Put this jinx ridden self-destruct day in some tuck away memory file.”
“Write a one page report, say the gremlins prevailed and I’ll give you an average mark.”
“For goodness sakes don’t blow this offer like you’ve nearly blown
up my whole group.”
On an ironic note “doyen do it right” gave a brief safety course start of term.
It seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I’ll be blowed as my parents once said when life took a damned awful turn.
We three “Einsteins” in technical garb almost were, blowed that is!
Posted ; 11th January 2022
"Triple Helix from the Hip"
Triple helix
stanzas
strung together
like pearls
wisdom worn
and swallowed
like a pill
sweet and
bitter
they evolve
those others
from their bad dreams
like poetry
cradling their
purity in sentences
that speak their godliness
as if they
have done no wrong
shooting nonchalantly
from the hip
killing their nemesis
silently with dark strokes
like bullets
from guns, cowboys
toting innocence
they evolve
golden
and terrible
hissing as they hymn
like sleek green
reptilians
they take cheap shots
of triple helix like rum
they breathe it in
and expel it
like steam, lit
on fire
from
their sewers
of nowhere
some kind
of contesting
baptism, immersed in
garbage
if only they could
extinguish the lesser chord
that which exists within them
but they are
oblivious to the
nature of their true self
they’re pure
without fault
condensed and sweetened
disingenuous
glowing unicorns
with very loose horns
blown, as if they’ve never
done no wrong
listing remedies
from solitary minds
that sink their fangs
and glistening smiles
into the gormless
congregation
like rattlesnakes
strange medicine men
they portend
survival
against all odds
even
death
the unacknowledged
who don’t remember
where they sit
at any table
yet,
they'll write their
way in
they are necessary
the true lost,
they are a new evolution
dripping adulation
in baptismal fonts
of dopamine
marking their
poetic vanity
on humanity
like they
crushed a
slam dunk
on sanity
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
"they were human once"...