Long Half cocked Poems
Long Half cocked Poems. Below are the most popular long Half cocked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Half cocked poems by poem length and keyword.
Schizophrenic tendencies
Stealing useless sh*t like a kleptomaniacal king
Laughing and tip toeing to the closet
While listening to the faucet drip
Freaking out my third eye blinking stunting your growth with a lean
Heavy petting in front of you
Sucks to think about you and actually think that I was thinking about letting you view
Drama setting developing characters steady sweating in a church corridor and sat down on the pew
Confessed a few horror stories and placed the priest in a matrix
Intelligently designed inside this hell's hatred
He cried and prayed as I snatched his soul and vaped it
There's no escapaping this
I'm being blamed framed about to get arrested in vain while they tape it
Look Mom I made it!
Walk a mile in my ASICS
Basic training
No negotiations
Guilt trippin on my laces
Remembered my cape and draped it over dead friends that became time wasted
Man I should've saved them
They always told me to go home
So I jumped off the deep end and waited
I'll eat you like a four course meal prepared and plated
I'm ing hungry
Spitting on you in front of me with a toxic venom developing a tongue disease
Better start to run from me
As I lunge with hands clung to a machete and swung at you hung from a tree
This sh*t is fun f*cking dumb b*tch punch you in the face and munched your c*nt for free
The f*ck you want from me?
Dan, drum roll please
Sum it up punch drunk stole your b*tch at the lunch truck five fingers linger the flavor of the week
Swinging at a country singer smiling inside my violent dream
Means my demons fire breathing heaving the heat
Call me the pretty b*tch leave your ass in the urn with burns from the third degree
Half cocked leaning against the wall throwing up queasy feelings mixed drinks 1,2, and 3
F*ck you and f*ck me then leave
Fall on your way out like that autumn leaf
Trippin on the broken sidewalk cracked under your feet
Deep sleep woke the weak dreams screaming for tweak
Leaped over your jeep and beat you with the meat cleaver stashed under the seat
Freaking the out inside an asylum for three weeks
Jeez it's freezing my body’s even seizing with heavy breathing strapped in a straight jacket teething
Lost in a controlled environment where everything that seems to be or seeming has no f*cking meaning
Only God Knows So Here Goes
If you read my poems half-cocked;
you must have had your lips locked;
Further exploring;
Found her adoring;
Found her nude and each small pock.
God is only one who my poems knows,
So again started writing and here goes;
Christ on a Cross,
Saw an albatross;
Read mine with or without any clothes.
Jim Horn
Trump seems like he has much pull,
And he can even act like an animal;
Best on a SAT
Did a Democrat;
When he will talk is a bunch of bull.
Jim Horn
Hurt Then Hurt Some More
What many seem to do is digging up dirt,
And object has beeen to hurt, hurt, hurt;
They are obscene,
And do demean;
Destroy them and they loose their shirt.
Jim Horn
Had been paining house board by board;
Looked up in sky and there was the Lord;
When I croak,
Will be broke;
With God anything you can always afford.
Jim Horn
Brought In Many Sheaves
We had been bring in so many sheaves,
When we did end up having the heaves;
Time we had,
Was all bad;
And last one cleans up before he leaves.
Jim Horn
We saw an eloping goat trying to escape;
Caught and accused of committing rape;
For nightcap,
Had a mishap;
Was Trump a slob probably in poor shape.
Hope Trump's appearance better will get;
Found to be fool who did fumble and fret;
Sold his soul;
Took its tool,
And had been worst moron we ever met.
Trump and Advisory Board
Trump found out he needed an advisory board;
What has infant idiot done now causing discord;
On us it did dawn,
Has been moron;
Always was looking way back and never forward.
Jim Horn
Conceived In Sin -
Cincinnati, Ohio
(most Up To Date Virgin)
Any attempt for fecund woman
to successfully counteract biologic
reproductive force to whit
deserves grudging testes
meant to garner at least tidbit
sans, ejaculated kudos (by Dickens),
where aborted squirt,
viz skin flute, gets writ
off as sad sack pit
tiff full seaman unwittingly spit
outside sought after vasocongestion
swollen phallic doth intuit
thwarted down thrust trend,
where offspring of genetic
inheritance since Eve soffit
a dam nibble prickly outcome
braking abrupt copulation,
where half cocked drill bit
attempts to hit
bulls eye included with animalistic kit
and caboodle born toward illicit
propagation of species,
this indomitable overbearing gen nit
till foreplay to liberate dill lib writ
lee, pointedly and instinctually
continue human race,
where a bajillion threads did knit
world wide web steeped with lit
richer replete with orgiastic nit
tee gritty prurient details
recounting bacchanalian debauchery
nun such breakable classless habit
ah what a dog send to gift
and empower women to inhibit
unwanted pregnancy (of childbearing age)
equipped with superhuman heft quit,
while erect phallus unable to lyft
uber penetration, no doubt miffed,
especially in throbbing throes far drift
from coital provenance, one agitated fitbit
feeling royally screwed
particularly virility predicated
on loose sing penile glue stick
within secrete slit.
Seem So Sickening
Suppose you were a flower who electrified and enchanted
Exactly where would you want to sometime soon be planted
And what I discovered after having almost dying trying
Fragrant flower was with breasts that were well-supplying.
When darn pre-determined diseases had been debilitating
I gathered up all of my facts and started contemplating
Which is when I took another look at my appearance again
Looked like someone who had been half-eaten in a lions den.
Heavens to Betsy and can through in another oh Brother
They had hard time telling one end from the other
I looked like a roster who had gone off half-cocked
And up on doodle do's he was not well stocked.
So what good is a clock who is going tock and not tick
Or from under a table can you perform a slick trick
Being right after you hung up each Christmas stocking
And Santa's wife said to hush up all of the tocking (Along with talking.)
With this ardent and audacious arrangement could not go wrong
Unless the entire whole thing had been only a come along
This is when instead of ticking off plot started thickening
No wonder ticks and tocks seem to sound so sickening.
Ah c'mon. How about just a little, casual chuckle,
You have somewhere hidden behind your buckle.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran and Poet
PS. Is there a category for impetuous for
petunias that haven't puckered yet?
Slovenly winter's sojourn lingers, but dwindles away.
Petulant cold snaps, squalls and hail the exit price you pay.
Riddance wrung from season squeezed by hugs to relent reluctantly.
In dawn's budding yolk core, a sign of hope that Spring's door shunt
Nurtures renewal, renounces enfeebled winter gloom with enlightened lilt.
Get those shoes on, ready for a gamboling, frolicking dance in kilt.
Impatient expectation threatens to half-bake Spring's coming.
So easy to go off half-cocked, like cock miscalling a morning.
Conjure up your juggling balls, and warm your hands as well,
On stage you go, to keep your baoding balls chiming a spell.
Meditating on what Spring may bring when plated to please, and charm.
Inviting renewal, a fresh go, mindfully aware of warnings strung on yardarm
Nevermore to be ensnared by false hope and expectations
Growing too fast and withering on vine, denying your supplications.
So often your hope chest is wrecked when predictions are dashed
On rocky shores, hidden behind a rosy mirage of beach on shore bedecked.
Only expect half your quiver of Spring gambits darts to hit home true.
Never be disappointed that Spring's coming only delivers an IOU in lieu.
Just Chris
Nothing very special here,
I’m young as old can be
Grey is just a state of mind
that’s come to set me free
Laughing at the future
as I’m tearing down the walls
Standing on a corner
with my cardboard sign and all
It reads, “I’ll work for poetry”
although that is a lie
Just a silly message sent
as you are driving by
Some insist a heart of gold
does beat inside my chest
I am merely but a man
who hopes to pass the test
Tapping on a keyboard
placing verses on this place
Wishing you to read them,
though some you may erase
I always try to wear a smile
yet often times I frown
Happiness is happiness
but sadness gets me down
Know that I am very rich
though I don’t have a dime
My fortune is the people here
that I call friends of mine
A worn out shirt is what you see,
a half cocked smirking smile
Fraying on the edges fast
and going out of style
I dream too much, I know it’s true
these visions that I see
Hope that when my life is through
you will remember me
But if you don’t, well that’s ok
my tombstone will dismiss
Carved in stone for all to see
the words will read “Just Chris”
Any Poetess knows her writing style.
She knows her swagger.
Her arrogance is in her words.
She struts even when she is not being vulgar.
She is a Poetry Diva.
Visionary
A Dreamer
True Reformer
Excellent
Diva of Poetry
Her mind is preoccupied to her theme.
She is topical in her poetry scheme.
She mesmerizes her vocabulary.
She is a Foreign Indian's Fairy.
A Poetry Diva's libretti conjure.
Unique
First-class
Idyllic Rhymester
A Wordsmith of Poetry
Bard – A Diva
Many times, she deciphers.
More than often, she’ll depict.
It would be her expression she lives within.
She is refined.
Within veracity, a Poetry Diva speaks her mind.
Versifier
Set your soul afire
Awaken your spirit into night
Lyricist
Diva Poetess
Ill-mannered she is not.
She does not write half-cocked.
She can be so male gaited.
Golden is her unique way.
A Poetry Diva is a platformer.
Wonderful
Magnificent
Ideal Utopian
Such a romantic lover,
Poetry Diva is enamored!
_______________|
Penned April 24, 2014!
For Kelly Deschler Contest Poems About Poetry
2nd Place
I crawl into a cave called myself.
It’s dry and dusty, cobwebbed.
So afraid to be, alone in the dark,
“Who am I,” is my cry.
Then Trixie’s best friend comes along,*
like a cowgirl set out on a romantic adventure.
This changeling becomes a pirate or
a faerie tale...mingling with the deer and frogs.
but not too sweet, ‘cause she’s a spark plug.
She squeezes out a saturated rag of tears and snot,
for this cowgirl spots the forgotten one -
a little child who needs a hug,
and she has a way of embracing the child in me.
...and her poetry like taffy pulls,
twists in a delicious way, half-cocked.
I’ve learned from her to grab the stars and fly
as if Tinkerbell dusted me with rare pastels.
In my mind we’re dressed in
kicka$$ gowns and fascinators
merrily sipping sherry in
the garden of Make-Believe.
And by the way, I love my souper friends. Don’t feel left out.
So many touch me in so many ways. God bless you all.
And one last shout out to Caren Krutsinger!
Both our brains hazy (and you may be crazy,)
But damned if I don’t seem to love you, dear friend,
Each of us “nutter” on other one’s clutter
But both can be true, with no need to offend.
Our kitchen’s well stocked, but arrangement’s half-cocked,
But a truce still survives for the world is our oyster.
What’s flaccid on grill can be spiced up with pill,
So no need for retirement to monk-dom or cloister!
We eat out a lot and prefer Queen to cot,
Where our snuggling makes time in the sack, time of giving,
Though thoughts of dream home can make both want to roam
Very best’s when your home is wherever she’s living.
Good friends come over, we’re rolling in clover
For friends, hers or mine, always magnify bliss.
Easy to measure, a feeling you treasure,
The rapture you felt when you got first French kiss!
Long Tooth
June 5, 2017
Shoot Em Down
Going off half cocked !!!
My spirit, you rocked !!!
Thought processes a mess ion.
Dangerous as a Smith & Wesson.
Tongue – explosive 45 caliber ammunition
tearing, ripping through to submission.
The flesh, the spirit of this old soul,
you cannot see, do not see, may not know
how much you have torn this spirit apart.
How it is experienced in this aged one’s heart.
Time’s passing has made it possible, not to be shocked
at the spirit, the soul, the heart you have socked
with all that has become, you should never start.
I am blind, not to bright, but now is time to part.
And so my dear, I wonder ?, how will it end ???
In days to come, will I still be considered a friend ?
Or will I be considered your foe ?
Is this what I will come to know ?
B. J. “A” 2
April 16th 2004