Long Hooters Poems
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Last night I asked my sisters
Why they were not hooting
Little owl said no one missed her
She would hoot when she so suited
Middle owl asked why did I care
Hooting is not what it used to be
Go 'google' hooters if you dare
For more than you ever want to see
'Hoot hoot hooray,' I hooted proudly
Wise owl like me knows to overlook
I will try to hoot quite loudly
And follow directions in the owl book
I helped little sister build a warm nest
Assured her everything would be 'owl' right
Middle sister decided it would be best
If we showed 'whoo' we are tonight
Darkness falls, noise is clearer
An incessant convolution of forest sounds
Each in a place where all can see her
Three sister owls hooting upside down
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Written 2-3-2016
For Owls Personification Contest by Eve Roper
2nd Place
Natural soporific narcotic
Recurrent suicidal thoughts
vaingloriously wend along winding road
within windmills of my mind
(o'er a death cab for cutie weeknd)
yakking, yanking, and yawking zeal
becalming this crash test dummy rolling
stone temple pilot inxs
of maroon 5 plus decades long
perdition hellaciously slogging
slow as adam and the ants,
thru fifty shades of gray's
anatomy common weal
masterly baiting this motley crue (cutting),
beatles browed, beastie boy,
foo fighters kickstart new edition
quickening reo speedwagon treadwheel
outre gee (bee) us, grateful dead,
mailer daemons inhabit
cavernous fist size vastness steel
via herbie hancock (hermans hermits)
cheesy munster trap doors that steal,
deep purple swiftly tailored
culture club members squeal
hosted by megadeth
pack rat boston for real
venue at tokyo hotel,
via en grave invitation
signed by alice in chains poison huss kiss
sing, which will spellbind
once contents unveiled,
an instant jane's addiction peal
immediately choking off air supply
then alice cooper egging bad company
to hypnotize the guess who sacrificial meal
supplanting raw
primal scream from spinal tap
acquiescing self to abandon all hope,
especially if black sabbath joins
creedence clearwater revival
dark shadows would demand one
(to take a knee) and kneel
before sacrificing oneself
at the beck and call
of evanescent nirvana
experiencing permanent relief,
sans soul (twisted) sister riding a hansom
off phish hull heart shaped coffin
ample room enough for blind
melon collie 10,000 maniacs,
their healing powers profusely emanating
via m&m shaped talking heads
methinks averring obeisance
to judas priest and hooters
with metallica linkedin with mötley crüe
coldplay feeling of eternal sleep,
where quiet pussy riot
joins carpenters, whose underground
bunker with golden arches
resembles empyreal
heavenly vault wreathed soundgarden
with electric light orchestra
sepulchral crowded house indicative
cynthesis iz done on a green day,
whereat dizzy gillespie afterlife deal
and you bet your sweet bippy meme,
an extra bonus for orthodox believers
(absent myself - a skeptic),
whose karma credit Suisse
with long deceased meatloaf
with soul asylum and heart to anele!
with noticeable burgeoning bosom in the offing, ahoy
this baby faced blubbery bosom beastie boy
fast becoming a bra man,
and might hire himself out
as a male wet nurse for employ
ment, cuz when stark naked on shark tank,
I behold two bopping, brewing, busting
flap jacks in search of a frying pan,
which change in my physiognomy doth annoy
but, suddenly spurring,
this ordinarily calm, cool, and collected chap
positing even a more radical income idea
changing ma name to Chester, letting hooters
get suckled, though,
methinks they qualify as milk duds
tit two siamese twin guys christened ell and roy
offering accompanied with serving of cookies,
where adipose floppy blimps
rank popular as novel cheap toy
where art though washboard stomach,
where brestworks didst sprout
as if overnight a markedly increased
from flat “Joe” six pack chest did an about
face, with squishy, mushy, and doughy
sprang up without doubt
suddenly forcing a sexual identity crisis,
which freaky phenomenon makes me wanna pout
for weird, wicked woebegone
affects the psyche of this lviii aged lout
wondering what other transitions,
this fellow may indeed be on the look out
feigning to traverse (in me mind) badgering
rugged hormonal secretion terrain akin to a girl scout
on the prowl targeting a peeping tom,
whose foolery demands clout,
thus this imposed unfair punishment,
as some half assed irreversible decree
maybe hints of other surprises,
yet tubby revealed, which haint no fallacy
possibly being brewed up by a brood
of bruiting imps of the pervert with glee
some bot sized microscopic
anti bosom buddy hood stolen the genetic key
analogous to a pesky malware,
virus, trojan horse secrete lee
scheming to transform the sexual identity of me
perhaps waking up tomorrow minus
my little peppy ***** , and behold a pussy
should such an outcome prevail,
where media papparazzi
stake out this freak of nature re:
doubling efforts erecting fortifications
in a big old sassy tree,
especially if the press
(i.e. particularly meaning Wikileaks)
discovers ability to experience infinite orgasms
converting sexual predilection into electric utility.
Buoyed over waves of elation
Marvel at favourable sights of creation
Prospect for attainment visible
Within glossy bastion, even trials seems agreeable
Mollusk of endearing devotion, grumbling for denied favours seem so easy
How progenitors of our existence purse their frustrations makes one feel lousy
Reeking of corrupted souls, makes tastebuds sour to elixir
Grafted as second skin blends to exude a new color
Aversion so easily discerned when everything awash
How chameleon spirit avulsed everything from one in a stroke of whiplash
Hooters perched on the demise of accrued inheritance
Consternation that needs to be shackled for their malefactor dance
When plunder acknowledged for their vantage
Stipends bequeathed as morsels to owner of the heritage
When the bubble finally bursts
Lesson that even if one's dominion life is not always just
Monitoring in anticipation stranger's and dear ones alike by holter
Affirms the old adage that blood is thicker than water
OLD BELFAST
No hooters belch and screech in the mornings anymore
Industry has disappeared from the City’s working core
The Factories have all closed their gates a long, long time ago
Now silent shadows fill the space where workers used to go
Steam cranes bow across the lough, an entry on a page
Decayed tired buildings line the Docks, relics of an age
Rows of broken windows where he silence trickles out
As nature now takes over where grass and nettles sprout
The workshops have been stripped and only carcasses remain
Moss grows on the floor where the roof lets in the rain
Miles of red brick walls which somehow now look grey
Blackened muddy puddles where singed old timbers lay
Grand imposing structures, much too big for modern use
Now crumpling and eroded from dereliction and abuse
Spectres from a Victorian age now roam these soulless lanes
You can hear their whistles on the wind. Their presence still remains
(This is a fictional poem)
When I was eight, I accidentally saw my aunt naked and now I'm scarred for life.
I've never been able to make love and I'll never have a wife.
My aunt weighs 600 pounds and she has three breasts.
Just remembering those sagging hooters gets me depressed.
I've seen ten girls naked but I never got an ********.
I can't get the image of my aunt's flabby ### out of my mind so those ladies got
nothing from me but rejections.
I know that I'll never be able to have sex and it's really scary.
It's because of my aunt's flabby body and her legs that were dirty and hairy.
Form:
Hope of hope, you are the right one.
At birth it's the color of flesh.
Today while waiting for the bus one mother was.
She was attractive but without her daughter or son.
She ask me how to get to the place I was going.
Her family had them both because,
she was going to try to have some xanax
prescribed to her.
I told her my ex wife used to take mine
and that D.C.F. took my daughter from her last month.
I told her that her only real problem was the simple fact that she had no life.
I commented to her on the fact that her womanly attributes
were very attractive.
She replied that she works for hooters.
A real life I pointed out.
One with self respect for her mind as well.
She said I was cute and knew a lot about woman problems.
I gave her some xanax she thanked me and left.
In parting I told her that some thing bad would happen
if she ever left with a big tipper.
Think of your son and daughter I leaving said.
Before leaving she said that she had never heard such
words and the way that I spoke them until.
Rudolph’s Stuck in the Traffic
Rudolph’s stuck in the traffic,
Oh! What a to-do,
Hooters too-too-tooting
Rudolph’s nose turning blue.
Christmas Eve in the township
Oh! What a crush,
Santa’s sled’s going nowhere,
Commuters all in a rush.
Santa’s directing the traffic,
Cars going everywhere.
Children searching for presents,
Oh! What a cheery affair.
A choir in the precinct,
Singing Silent Night.
The crowd stand around waving,
Santa’s sled’s really stuck tight.
Rudolph’s stuck in the traffic,
Oh! What a to-do,
The crowd standing round waving,
Santa’s sled’s really stuck tight.
11/28/17
For Contest 'Christmas Rhymes'
by Kim Rodrigues
A nose is called many names
Some of them quite funny
Sometimes they are spotty
And often very runny
If you are unlucky you could have a bulbous nose
I would rather have a slender one, that's choosy I suppose
Roman noses are much larger and inclined to bend
Retrousser ones are saucy and turn up at the ends
Prominent noses stand out and can be very long
Hooters are another name that sounds more like a gong
A pig has a strange nose it is called a snout
It's not like other noses it's flat and don't stick out
An elephants nose is called a trunk it looks more like a hose
It is very useful as well the elephant knows
Then there's the proboscis monkey with his extraordinary sense of smell
They can use their schnozzle to find a boy or girl
There are lots of other names like sniffer, bugle, pug
I bet you've read enough of this so i'll pull out the plug
When the Duke boys tried to jump over my house, they crashed through the middle.
The damn General Lee landed on top of me and put me in the hospital.
The Dukes apologized and said they meant no harm.
I sued their pants off and the judge gave me their farm.
I sold their land to a big company that manufactures beer.
Jesse, Bo and Luke were furious and Daisy was in tears.
Daisy said if I gave them their farm back, she would show me her hooters.
I told all four of them to take a hike and they had to go live with Cooter.
When a person injures me, it's an extremely bad thing to do.
The Dukes learned that when people do me bodily harm, I sue.