Long Sarcasm Poems
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6 years ago, I wrote limericks about 5 PS poets. Today, I've posted
about another 5 and will continue to add more... before 6 years.
I tickled funny bones of five Souper men
So, I gave thought to trying it once again
In the order they replied
My sarcasm was applied
As I gently heckled them with ink and pen
First, Tom Cunningham, who "liked my collection"
To femme limericks he had no objection
But now it's his turn
Tom, forgive the burn
I heard you're headed for a house of correction
Jerry T Curtis said to "keep them coming"
But I think that lately he's been slumming
He's all aflutter
And starts to stutter
When his lady friend starts his heart strumming
Then there is the poet of romance, Tim Smith
His sweet words of seduction are not a myth
I know it to be truth
Don't ask me. It's uncouth
I don't kiss and tell so I'm pleading the fifth
John Gondolf said my limericks made him "chuckle"
His comments are always filled with honeysuckle
But if he wants a date
I'll have to castigate
I have a black belt in the use of my knuckles
"I needed smiles and giggles," said Greg Barden
His poems are flowers blooming in a garden
But some words are couture
Fertilized with manure
Now I guess I'll have to beg for Greg's pardon
The new additions...
Like a brother he comes to my defense
This man wears no guise and has no pretense
Mark Koplin, misunderstood
A modern-day Robin Hood
To me he shines with rays of effulgence
There's a man who took me under his wing
Says what he thinks. Doesn't hold back a thing
Danny Turner, my friend
A helping hand he'll lend
For offering kind words, he's a wellspring
David Kavanagh, true friend from the start
Encouraging advice, he does impart
Throws Monoku lines like spears
I raise a glass to him ~ cheers!
Loyal, his word. A man with a good heart
Canadian, Vaso, we don't see oft
Art doesn't come across as being soft
But has a tender heart
For countries torn apart
His poetic words should never be scoffed
His funny thoughts overflow in a Flood
Terry writes humor that's never a dud
Risque, and sometimes not
His stories have a plot
Rumor has it that he's known as 'The Stud'
Gentlemen, I ask forgiveness for this spoof
My humorous parodies should be the proof
That I like all of you
And don't mind if ya do
Get even in your own limericks of reproof
Fight
I’d fight for you, you know. But I know you aren’t asking that of me. So I’ll be here for you, to fight beside your side if you need me. Because you shouldn’t have to shoulder all this by yourself.
These moments where everything seems like it’s against you. Even your thoughts and emotions. You don’t deserve them.
But they will happen. Especially the latter. Your mind working against you, digging claws into your skin, ready and willing to tear you apart. And what should that matter when you’ve had blood on your own hands before? I won’t tell you pretty words just to brush that under the rug.
You. Dear youngling. Get out of that headspace of yours, get away from whatever is bringing you down. Place your headphones over your head, blast music into your ears. Make art. Rip paper apart. Whatever can get those feelings out without hurting yourself or anyone else.
Listen to me. You are so much more than you know. You are beauty and brains. Kindness and soul. Strength and bravery. Sass and sarcasm. You are not alone. And even if you don’t believe that, look up at the stars that will tell you how not alone you are because you are one with them. Young stardust trying to make its way. Don’t let your mind twist that. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, and that even includes that voice in the back of your head that whispers all those hurtful lies.
Don’t let anyone make you feel inferior. Don’t give up that power to ANYONE.
This moment will pass. You will get through it. You have the means to, you just have to realize it. You have to aim to kill, darling. Silence those bad thoughts. Shut the voices in your head or from others up.
Shoulders back, chin up, take a deep breath, focus, you’ve got this. You are strong, you are a warrior, you can go for the gold, you have bravery running through you, you are bloodthirsty.
Tear down the idea that you are unworthy, not enough, that you can’t be this or that, that you need to lose weight, or change yourself in such extreme ways.
And if you need to stop and take a breath from that fight. Gain some stability. Have a hand to hold. I’m here for you, always. And if you need me to pick up my sword and fight for you or watch your back, you know I will.
I will go down kicking and screaming in the fight for you to break away from these feelings that plague you from time to time if need be.
Our story began behind bars with the broken,
Displaying our armor with truths left unspoken.
Through the gates each day, our counselor hats on,
Where pain wore a face, and hope felt long gone.
You, with your wisdom and counselor’s grace,
Me, burnt out but still showing my face.
We stitched up souls with words and care,
In a world where few even knew we were there.
"Eight and the gate" rang like a drum in our chest,
Till we traded our keys for a long-needed rest.
No longer confined, our world opened wide,
With pups at our heels and friends by our side.
Bella, a farting cutie with sass to spare,
Jack Dangles—cutest dude anywhere,
Ollie, judging all with a skeptical eye,
And mine, loyal, wild, barking at the sky.
We measured our days in tail wags and sparks,
And found light in our dogs when the world turned dark.
You’re my news anchor, my human rant,
My “yes you can” when I swear I can’t.
We share stories and snacks and fried calamari,
And laugh till we wheeze like a nursing home party.
You’re blue as the sky, I’m red underneath,
But we cry the same tears from sorrow and grief.
We talk of the world—no judgment, no shame,
Different opinions, but hearts just the same.
You bring the fire, and I bring the “me,
”?You rage at the news with raw clarity.
(You really should join that Trump-haters squad—
They’d give you a mic and a standing applaud.)
When the world gets too heavy, we know what to do—
Dogs, snacks, the news, and a cry or two.
You’ve saved me from drowning more than you know,
With sarcasm, love, and that fierce Jewish glow.
You check in with care that never feels fleeting—
Usually starting with, “Hey… what you eating?”
You’re braver than you’ll ever admit,
Still fighting each day with your sharp, clever wit.
You ache in the places that scream in the night,
But you rise. You stay. You still fight.
I’m twelve percent Jewish, I love to remind—
Which explains why I cry and complain all the time.
You yell “Borscht!”—I say, “What’s that mean
”You sigh, “Oh hush, just eat something green.”
You’re my friend beyond what words can explain—
Through doctor reports and every bloodstain.
If life’s a long walk with no real map,
I’m glad it’s with you—nap by nap.
We’re still here. We’re still us.
Still wrapped in dog fur, still raising a fuss,
Partners in crime—chaos, a must.
Ascending from the dissension of time
You and I look so sublime
LA Times will get me on their news – h8ters gonna h8te
It’s my fate and I’m going to motorscape (motorcycle escape)
Away from your lane of insane
I’m an OCD guy
Who has an ADD brain
High like a butterfly
You don’t care and I don’t mind
Why am I greedy for the needy?
Because I want to be in need
Why am I rich in my dreams, yet poor in reality?
Because I live a double-standard life…I write and read…
I know you been smoking weed…why do you ruin your future seed?
I’m so sick of hearing your bickering
Now, the lights are flickering
I’m aggravated by the fact that everyone ignores
While I think in metaphors in my shining shores
Doing challenging chores is what I do best
If I don’t pass a test, I won’t detest – you, the west
And, I, the East…
You’re so beast…
North and South is a glory and grace way…
I’m having “one-of-those-days”… I’m a gemini in the month of May
“No way…”
Yes way.
Walls are closing in…as you zoom passed me…
You broke my heart from the start
Stars of scars and moons that look like suns
Shine upon me and I memorized it by heart
I’m mesmerized by your marvelous, careless ways
You played me over and over like warped-up plays
You played me in repeat…
As I tapped my feet
Against the floor…against the floor…
Against the ground you tread on…
Against the ground you tread on…
It’s all water under the bridge now
It’s all water under the bridge now
Somehow, I’ll forgive you
Maybe…but I won’t forget you
Jokes on me that I’m a delusional dreamer
Nightfall has held me in its arms and doused me with charms
Left unharmed…you make my lips creamier
Every time you kiss them…you make me melt like icecream…
I’m blushing…
I’m as embarrassed as ever
You treated me out and I’m thankful
I’m grateful…I’ll never say whatever
I’m married to loneliness…oh how I’m so grateful
But, sarcasm and negativity will leave in no time…
Because His positivity, love, faith and hope is so sublime
Sunrise never let me go…
Running out of time…
He won’t leave my side, so…
I’m dropping him off like a silver dime
H8ters gonna h8te
YOLO…is a secret crime I keep to myself – I can be sweet as an orange, but sour as a lime…
Luverz gonna luv
You grow like the weeds, the roses and the birds of time
Bring me a cup of Java, honey, and put some coffee in the water, will you?...
Whoa there! Bet you can feel the withering sarcasm in that simple phrase...
People, I welcome you to the world of crime novels by James Hadley Chase...
With cryptic titles like I'll Bury My Dead, it's a crime novel befitting even the dead...
The protagonists in every novel, Mr Chase humanized each of them in good stead...
As a crime writer, Mr Chase has no master, or even an equal of his calibre...
Dialogues, suave and cultured or in the low life lingo, is excellence beyond compare...
Most of all, the many believable twists and turns in every one of his crime story...
You'll empathise with the hero and the heroine, and root for them in each story...
What Is Better Than Money is yet another master yarn uniquely spun by Mr Chase...
About how a piano player bidding time tangled with a junky beauty with trilling vocals ....
It is amazing how you will identify with the struggling two bit piano player as he grapples...
With the opportunity of a lifetime to hitch his economic wagon on a less than perfect starlet..
In No Orchids For Miss Blandish, I remember rereading the same book twice over...
To be thrilled and to savour how the master story teller spun the story altogether...
Mind you, I was back then just a little boy, given access to the senior section of the library..
Faced with rows and decks of all kind of books, I was a bewildered boy lost in the library...
Then I spied a rather worn out hard cover book entitled No Orchids for Miss Blandish...
Small in print, yellowed in pages and looked slightly misbegotten, but the title intrigued..
Reaching home, I could not put down the book once I started reading that slim book...
I was thrilled, I was truly engrossed in a fascinating tale of crime found within a book...
Etched in my memory to this day, I recall vividly the awe and the joy in novels by Mr Chase...
Little wonder through the years I often read and reread crime novels spun by Mr Chase...
James Hadley Chase, crime story teller supreme, without any cheap graphic x rated scenes...
He is the ultimate maestro for story characters and crime tales that electrify your senses...
Readers, Mr James Hadley Chase, he's The Man for grippping realistic crime stories....!!!
Garfield, a loveable famous, lazy cat,
Who likes to eat and eat, that’s why he’s fat,
Jon his companion, Garfield’s friend or foe dude,
On call twenty four seven, to give Garfield food!
The world knows their love hate relationship
And of course Garfield's innermost thoughts,
Each an amusing quip!
He is the cleverest, wittiest cat, he’s a star,
His charm, and fertile mind reaches afar,
He loves to eat, sleep and then to repeat,
His sarcasm no other cat could ever beat.
Garfield regards Jon as his permanent box changer,
Perhaps Jon should give Garfield a thought pager!
Garfield, shouts Jon, why do you everything scratch,
Don’t shout, you silly human, give me a scratch patch!
John emphasises, Garfield you’re lucky, you have
A teddy, a dog called Odie and a loving companion, me
What else could you want, a bowl of lasagne says he!
A mouse runs by, Jon says Garfield catch it, but
Garfield doesn’t like hurting mice,
And so says Garfield’s thought quip,
Will I ever get that through your thick skull,
Or do I always have to give you an earful!
Garfield teases big angry looking dogs, makes
Faces at them, and when they chase him,
Runs to Jon who picks him up and then Garfield takes
Advantage as he sticks his tongue out,
So the dogs attack them both, Jon
Scolds Garfield who looks at Jon, with a pout!
Garfield cartons were recognised and awarded
Top honours and were rewarded
With accolades, in the Guinness Book of Records
Congratulations to the author the late Jim Davis,
Who made billions and achieved worldwide status,
And who created these wonderful characters,
Manipulative and coffee dependant Garfield,
Not forgetting Odie and Jon,
All of who brought us laughs by the ton!
Garfield was an era, a striped, intelligent thinking cat,
Who refused to ever hurt a mouse, that’s a fact,
But who could eat lasagne every day of his life
As his greed for this meal was truly rife!
I could carry on forever, but will end with what
I think is a laugh,
Jon asks Garfield why he has got such a lot of
Junk in his bed,
Oh this, Garfield grins, it’s a whack bonk, with which
I am about to hit your head,
Our furry friend sarcastically said,
Rather, thought in the quip,
It’s a wonder that Jon didn’t chase him with the
Scissors, and go snip, snip!
You dare to tell me what you think you know
Intellectual egotistical bravado?
You think that you can out think the Plan
Where nothing was and
. . .
BANG! The universe began?
. . .
The cosmic Know you think to challenge?
While the gene pool we swim in is so shallow?
Explain to me the black hole or atom
The gravity
that we can't fathom
Or singularity
where time stands still
Or dark energy
Unseen but real
How 2 plus 2 is never 5
How gravity bends light and time
Do thoughts move faster than does light?
Prove sarcasm, love, or even fright
How sound travels yet can't be seen
Or exactly how life came to be
Big bounce? Big Bang?
String theory or brane?
Is Laminin what it seems to be?
How Neutrinos pass through cold steel beams?
Why some men choose gold over life
While letting children starve and die
And in the name of gods men kill and lie
Religion can't mask their Godless pride
Explain to me sir if you can
Is man your god
Or is your god man
Or how a seed can crack and die
And press through dirt up towards the sky
Universe? Multiverse? Or parallel?
Who's to say or who can tell?
Explain to me sir if you can
The event horizon Kerr, oh vain man
You think that you can know it all
While the speck we live on is so small
Did you know that pride precedes your looming fall?
At one time you thought the earth was flat.
Now you mock and scoff at that.
Yet you're still willing for magic beans to trade the cow,
Or your children's future for the here and now
Can you feed all the hungry with what you know?
Can you stop hate, and make love grow?
Can you conquer fear in your Petri dish?
Or should I just click my heels and make a wish?
Maybe Something Somewhere is bigger than us.
That we can't fathom, but can discuss.
But if we are to do that you must know,
Your superstition has to go.
I'm not talking bout 4 leaf clovers.
Or chanting some prayer over and over.
Ain't talking bout black cats crossing the road,
Or eye of bat or oil of toad.
I'm talking about what you think you know,
Your pride my brother has got to go.
But that pride helps cover up your fear
It blinds your eyes
Stops up your ears.
I'm telling you man just let it go
And let's have a frank discussion about our souls?
Psalm 14:1
I WAS TALKING TO GOD:
I am a downright failure,
I never get to the point at any time.
I am screwed up,
It’s of no use to try now.
The world, for me, is now above.
It’s worthless to try,
Why did I aim too high?
I am now scarred,
With the failures I have gained,
It has made me weak, and it has pained.
All my plans have gone in vain,
My head is down, down into shame.
Its worthless to try,
Why did I aim too high?
I aimed for the moon,
But never even reached the star.
Was thrown from above,
Because I was a pea out there
Nobody loved me, nobody cared.
Its worthless to try,
Why did I aim too high?
Due to this failure,
I have climbed the barrier of lunacy,
I have travelled in the wave of despondency.
I shout from here, to take me away from this world,
Because it is no less than a prison for me.
Its worthless to try,
Why did I aim too high?
I am sick of confusions,
I have gone insane,
I am tired of playing mind games.
The world has done much for me,
And I don’t have anything to give in return.
I just want to give it up,
I am burning up,
Let me go from this world.
Its worthless to try,
Why did I aim too high?
BUT Then GOD Said:
That aiming too high,
Is so not wrong.
You moan and scream,
and show the world that you are so very meek,
You decide to die, every time you fail,
So what can I say!!
Now you have decided to die,
What can I do, give death a try.
I REALISED and SAID TO GOD:
You have sarcasm in your voice.
You give me options – death and life as a choice?
You say that I am meek,
And I prove myself,
MYSELF as a freak?
Oh God! Now I feel I was so wrong!
Why was I moaning for so long!
This sardonic and challenging response of yours,
Makes me feel challenged,
And makes me forget whatever I said before.
I feel energetic again,
And take up this challenge of yours.
I would dare to dream big,
And would not fear to get it fulfilled.
No one is going to stop me,
I have got the optimism installed!
God, give me challenges,
Give me dares,
I want to show you,
I am not the person
Who screams and scares.
Every time I fail,
I would remember your sarcastic voice,
And would feel challenged again.
The sadness of a joker is never known
Laughing in public so people assume it must be even better at home
Depression stays by my side so I'm never alone
The sadness of a joker is never known
So much going on that I came close to giving up
Life is short and I'm supposed to live it up
But depression is taking control of me and I've been feeling weak lately
So many thoughts in my head I keep to myself, I don't speak lately
I make jokes when I'm around people to try and hide my trauma
Hiding behind humour and using sarcasm as my armour
I use it as protection to try and keep myself safe
Depression tries to keep me locked away with no cell mate
So it's time to pick up the pen and find the desire to write again
I'm Tyson Fury coming back from depression feeling Inspired to fight again
I feel boxed in but I'm trying to fight my way out of this mindstate
I might have the world in front of me but right now I'm in a blind space
No hugs around so I keep a glass of brandy to comfort me
don't ask if I can stomach it, ask the brandy if it can stomach me
I'm tired of meaningless sex with girls, but meaningless sex is easier to get than a hug with meaning
Trying to deal with new pain, while I still have old scars bleeding
But I try to ignore them while I drink alone and play Fifa
I should cook a meal for myself, but instead I'll get a takeaway pizza
I only ever talk about football, Hip-hop and boxing so people think I'm shallow, but it's way deeper
People love telling me when I'm wrong, but I've learned that making the mistake is a great teacher
I need a hug, but from someone who respects that I need them to remain at a distance that's comfortable
But a girl will consider me weak if I tell her I need a hug, so I just tell them that life is great and everything is wonderful
I've apologised so many times, but no more apologies for being dysfunctional
Mike Tyson lost fights, Ronaldo lost in finals, even the strongest can be vulnerable
The sadness of a joker is never known
Laughing in public so people assume it must be even better at home
Depression stays by my side so I'm never alone
The sadness of a joker is never known
Deborah’s Grandfather was fond of saying, other than at Thanksgiving, turkeys had no worth
for he believed that turkeys were the stupidest creatures on Earth.
He told stories of turkeys innocently and ignorantly standing on the ground
and staring up into the rain so long…they ultimately drowned…
Of course we know this isn’t true….and the reason for her grandfather’s sarcasm
is a genetic condition in turkeys called titanic torticollar spasms.
In truth we know turkeys are quite social creatures who also have big hearts
and contrary to what old farmers think…turkeys are quite smart.
I felt the need to test these competing theories…I figured it wouldn’t be hard
and for my test case I would use the turkey family that frequents our back yard.
They travel through once a day looking for the things that turkeys eat…stopping for a rest…which gave me the perfect opportunity to put my theory to the test.
I started taking handfuls of birdseed, “Hello turkeys!” I would say
then I’d toss those handfuls to them…at first they ran away.
Eventually however…those hungry turkeys found their way back
and seemed to be enjoying their complimentary mid-day snack.
The next day when I saw them in the yard…I greeted them…then tossed them seeds
eventually establishing a routine….as they became accustomed to our Balsam House cuisine.
Now the turkeys perch on the fence near our cabin…under an old chestnut tree
and If I don’t see them when they arrive…they gobble up at me.
“Hello turkeys! I yell to them as I hurry out the door…
then toss them the handfuls of seeds I know they’re waiting for.
So there you have it proof that turkeys are quite smart…no longer should we disdain them…
after all look how easy with some birdseed it was for me to train them.
However…as I watch them enjoying their mid day snack as happy as turkeys can be
I have to wonder when I hear them gobble from atop the fence…
If I was training them…or they were training me?
Whatever the answer…when I see them…my pride I can’t contain…
Hey…I notice it’s beginning to sprinkle…and they are gobbling…
I think I’ll go outside and join them…staring at the rain.