Long Grossed Poems
Long Grossed Poems. Below are the most popular long Grossed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grossed poems by poem length and keyword.
(Probably more a short story than free verse
In any case it’s true,
seen through my eyes as a child)
He was a heavy smoker sat by the fire
Coughing and wheezing hacking up phlegm
spitting it into the blazing hearth,
that hissed back contemptuously upon contact
On a rare occasion when he’d miss,
the dog would lick up the gooey mass
with a determined exuberance
A filthy habit I heard some say behind his back,
but he was always happy,
didn’t care less what others thought of him,
a real character,
anyway my whole family and I liked him
He was our uncle from rural Ireland,
we visited him and his wife
on their small farm a couple of times each year,
probably more so, when my Dad had a car that worked,
My sister and I used to make grossed out faces
at each other when he expectorated into the open
hearth of the fire,
we thought it was pretty cool, and grotesquely funny
One spit in particular is legendary,
he spat out a stringy length of gunk
but needed his fingers to help pull it away from his mouth
and direct it towards the fire,
some actually made the distance,
amazingly the dog raised his head
and caught the rest of it, happily wolfing it down,
I mean come on!
we were still in tears laughing, on the way home in the car
On later visits it seemed bits of his face
were disappearing or bandaged,
still he never complained,
his voice was almost gone anyway,
and most unusually he wasn’t smoking
I was only a kid and in those days
you weren’t supposed to ask questions,
but it didn’t stop me asking my dad,
what was happening to uncle?
He told me uncle had cancer of the mouth,
and part of his tongue and lips had to be cut away,
warning me never to smoke,
even though he had one lighting in his hand
Innocent me thought uncle’s face would grow back
and he’d be ok,
but unfortunately he died pretty soon afterwards,
Damn I used to be spellbound
watching him trying to catch his breath
and hoofing viscous gunk upon the fire,
even more so when he missed
I tried to copy him on a visit to my aunt
just after he passed away,
of course I missed the fire on purpose,
The dog never budged
My sister shook her head
I was truly ashamed!
By
David Kavanagh
Daring to Walk Around the House Shirtless
I am a daring woman, a wanton woman, a top heavy woman.
My 44 Double D’s are pressing down hard on my chest today.
I decide to free them, to let them loose, to give them some air.
Which is nervy because even if you are an old lady, and I am….
If you have a husband like mine
Who is still seventeen
And still thinks of me as sixteen,
you know he is going to run up and play with your boobs.
My back stops him in mid grab.
What is on your back?
Apparently thirteen wood ticks.
He is completely grossed out and says he will take off six of them.
Thirteen is too many.
I am pretty sure he got all their blood-filled ugly rounded brown bodies.
The heads are still in my skin though, I bet.
Those heads are keeping him away from the booby grab.
I guess those stupid ticks bites are good for something.
HEY!
Never mind….
Jabba the Hutt has a spur up his butt
that makes him as mean as a wasp
If you stop for a look, at that glutton of glop,
his looks will not help him a lot!
His rotten demeaner, gave Vadar the radar,
to hide out in deep outer-space
Hutt's face and his figure could fracture a mirror
...and the glass of a whole universe!
There are millions of creatures, with much better features,
that Jabba can never embrace!
Jabba is gruesome, a big gooey nuisance!
He looks like a big wad of gum!
He grossed out Chewbacca.......
who likes his tobacco,.....(this may be a slip of a tongue)....,
But... a wad of his chew, missed the spittoon,
and hit Jabba, in his hut, with a zoom !
To view this unsightly, gruesome character:
_https://www.google.com/search?q=Jabba+the+Hutt&rls=com.microsoft:en-US:IE-Address&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=sU4dUpjQG4HViwK1kYCoDQ&ved=0CEAQsAQ&biw=1920&bih=897
_____________________________________________
For P.D.'s Star Wars Contest:
By Carrie Richards 8/27/13
Star Wars Rules !
Walt Disney was a cartoonist with dreams, visions, ideas.
interested in animation, he started Laugh-o-Gram studios.
he had a pet mouse there, inspiring Mickey Mouse
steamboat willie was the first cartoon ever produced with sound.
walt and his brother roy created a short of the three little pigs.
this short won disney studio an academy award in 1933.
it took them four years to produce snow white and the seven dwarfs.
many people thought the $1.5 million dollar production cost was ridiculous.
snow white and the seven dwarfs was the first animated feature film.
the first animated full length cartoon created in color.
snow white was the most successful movie of 1938.
in a year she had grossed six and a half million dollars, ingenious!
TRUTH
These days, few really understand truth
In the metaverse, it is what gets shared
Memes as popular ideas are not facts
But with a shrug, the world will relax
Truth is quite different when prepared
Fashion appeals more to modern youth
But belief can be something else entirely
More as vain hope than cold calculation
All governments come and then they go
One wonders what they really do know
Feeding us comfortable communication
And official statements delivered dryly
To truth, theories are the closest things
Yet not quite there, at least for most
Science has had its falls and stumbles
Waiting as the establishment crumbles
Does it matter what that movie grossed
Despite the ideas changed history brings
8/29/21
If I knew
Why did I do
What I knew
I shouldn't do
There's been a lot of damage taken
The devil continually advocated
I've successfully acclimated
It's gone beyond being infatuated
I've been addlepated
Taking medicine that is encapsulated
Off the THC and liquor I'm activated
Really animated
Until I overdo it and am incapacitated
Deep down feeling aggravated
And agitated
Because for too long, I've been captivated
It all needs to be recalculated
In order to be calibrated
In life losing interest or fascinated
Stories holding truth or being fabricated
It was accurate or poorly translated
At odds or for a better cause they amalgamated
It grossed them out or they salivated
Meanwhile limbs being saved or getting amputated
The terrain bone dry or still saturated
The winner lived another day, the loser got decapitated
The target got taken out or was not assassinated
Areas spotless or thoroughly contaminated
Buildings that are pristine and others dilapidated
The droplets of water remained or evaporated
All this focus on who is and isn't vaccinated
It's spot on or exaggerated
What's been done was not right
Occurring outside of work or at the job site
R.I.P. to another lost life
Too many people think they're godlike
Obsessed with the spotlight
When they're soft and sweet like a Klondike
At times had to use the fog lights
No fun experiencing a vicious dog bite
Always getting plastered
Is as useful as a fat turd
You've got it all twisted and backwards
What's the password?
You're really getting on my last nerve
Time I Knock you into Saturn
None of it really matters
Going on with changes in the pattern
Born a bastard
Skills that have yet to be mastered
I don't need mawkish pleads to save the fertilized soil
Or a withered fault tied to the debris of a poor foil
When languishing in the asters kissed by empty wish to unlock
Luck sinking in beneath the ghost floundering the fen of nightmare
Married long since gone the way of floating sculls peer
Grossed point photographs that pinned numbers of craziness in padlock
Still I run....
in His grace
with His pace
out of deadly fun
I am a man managing culture with religion
Troubling weather whether balance will be fair
Coupling heritage's park and doctrine's file
Hide me, hide all; find fault, find no region
How long will it take to get in and participate unaware!
Meddling check with Mercy's measures in pile
Still I run....
in His grace
with His pace
out of deadly fun
Don't walk away, please, don't walk away
Fine chaff of less weight willing to separate
Wind keeps the tease in pleasure hitting the drive astray
Differences heightened by farewell, bill to accelerate
Unless I wish not to really return but roam
Jogging the stroller of compassion at the ancient home
Still I run....
in His grace
with His pace
out of deadly fun
God don't watch the race of the sun
Bleeding the crimson woods' leaves
In in its static but dangling position
Swinging to escape the harshness brutally dun
Trying to put up with humans' need in grieves
For more than enough is already in acquisition
Still I run....
in His grace
with His pace
out of deadly fun
Everyday is lead with no guarantee of tomorrow
My rival, time, is yet undone broken
That all hours would seize like the day of Joshua
And ease the agony of defeat and sorrow
To enjoying the pause of asking how will it happen?
Like a horny mood craving to loose Olósó's mantua
Still I run....
in His grace
with His pace
out of deadly fun
Old Roy’s place is pretty, soft, songbird sweet
Out in the country, secluded, warm, welcoming
On weekends high school students gravitate there
To sing around campfire, and drink illegally.
Old Roy has been helping children become alcoholics for decades
Not sure when it got started, but his bonfires are legend.
The kids call them “The Vicky Roast” in honor of his missing wife.
Yes, Roy’s wife had run off in the sixties, never to be heard from again.
It’s a weird joke; no one is sure who started it, but Roy always laughs
For the last forty years anyway
Let’s have a Vicky Roast, he would say, loudly, drawing big laughs.
During the Viet Nam war most of the seniors were out there on weekends.
Townspeople knew of it. Some religious fanatics used to complain
Learning the hard way that Roy’s cousin is Chief of Police.
It’s a small town; they should have already known it.
A few years ago the bonfire got dug up; because there were new owners.
Roy had been in a fetal position in the Senior Alzheimer’s Unit for years.
We were all grossed out when we discovered a skull and rib bones had been found
under the bonfire; and of course, it was his wife Vicky’s.
Vicky Roast sounds more macabre than ever now.
"Circumstances circumcision
all diced up in false religions
failure to disagree
but yet they agree
will have their own guilty plea
the truth of life and lots of trees
cleanest the air in and out of me
we're all caught up in fake absolutes
Elder statemen and clergy European duped
Constant persuasional personal private provident
Discord unrelentless faucity unending Liberty
O say can you see
Pay for packages stolen off porches
too young individuals having lost divorces
hurts and treasures
false riches endeavors
justified embraced enslavement
rallied allied negative entertainment
Grace's virtues falsehoods allergy captivating yet you stand we all suffer the Mysteries of men bystanding truth
failure to disagree
but yet they agree
will have their own guilty plea
the truth of life and lots of trees
cleanest the air in and out of me
we're all caught up in fake absolutes
Elder statemen and clergy European duped
Constant persuasional personal private provident
Discord unrelentless faucity unending Liberty
O say can you see
This disfranchise differences man's truth
Boardly grossed based absolute"
2/13/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024
Tom’s the longest-serving member,
Of the British para-rowing squad,
Because whilst at a party, thunder,
He fell, slipped with all his quad.
He played rugby for Warwick Uni,
Because he lived for, loved sport,
But Coventry’s hospital said he,
Was paralysed, their true report.
As part of his long rehabilitation,
He took up rowing which he raved,
And so grossed the competition,
In Beijing 2008 which he engraved.
He went from the 2007 Worlds -
The World Rowing Championships,
Where he won gold, short words,
To opportune a gold in 2008 hips.
In 2009, Portugal at the WRC’s,
He took another gold medal fair,
And again in 2010 he won the seas,
And yet again in 2011, he did heir.
So in 2014 at the World Champs,
He won a silver in Amsterdam,
And in 2015 in France with amps,
He took another silver gram.
Tom was born 24th May in 1984,
As an eighties discotheque child;
He lives in Caversham, his door,
Into the world of contests dialled.