Long Schmuck Poems
Long Schmuck Poems. Below are the most popular long Schmuck by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Schmuck poems by poem length and keyword.
Gonifs and gossips revisited
since originally being crafted
approximately half dozen
dirty deeds done dirt cheap years ago...
Abound and lurk
within every nook and cranny
analogous to some annoying pest
harmless though one reside here,
when off his meds goes berserk
here at Highland Manor Apartments.
They snatch and snitch packages -
meant for other than themselves -
think Grinch who stole Christmas
plus snoop, i.e. eavesdrop
big Dumbo ears as listening devices
(batteries not required)
or serve as rumor mongers
to don self importance
and trumpet "FAKE NEWS."
We (yours truly and his misses)
dwelled at aforementioned residence
July first 2025 will be eight years,
and no sooner did both of us set foot
on premises than hearsay
immediately promulgated
(metaphorically swirled about our heads),
and passed like greased lightning
thru the robust grapevine
purportedly wife of mine
brought in live snakes.
Oddly and interestingly enough though,
I never actually never heard nor saw
a fellow resident
talk (or whisper in hushed tones)
about me outright.
Rather than badmouth other feisty folks,
which leaves unpleasant virtual
aftertaste described as phooey zook,
thus comeuppance to reprobate recipients
I activate viz cluck
king silly reasonable rhyme,
(so keeps head up
for urbane adverse city slicker
you better watch out
(...better not shout...) just duck
and run for cover cuz poet took
effluvia enroute spouted by word huck
stir, he avoids naming
(chatterboxes whose lives
so devoid of meaning,
they figuratively kickstart tittle-tattle),
who vocally ramp up
some juicy tidbit with any luck
taking page from former president playbook
letting their lips uncontrollably run a-muck
totally oblivious to credibility factor being a schmuck
buzzfeed initial kernel of truth and truck
outrageous zingers suitable for National Enquirer,
tragicomical, cuz mistruths
courtesy tenants exhibit chutzpah to pluck
farfetched outright lies and innuendos
rolling of tongues of then occupants such as:
"Bible Thumper/Holy Roller,"
"Bingo/ Phat Cathy,""Crooked Old Man,"
"Curvy Girl/Thunder Thighs," "Frumpty Dumpty
"Mush/Smash Mouth, "Snaggletooth,"
"The Bodyguard," "The Fossil," "The Schvartze,"
"Winkle," and last but not leased "Zha Zha”.
Give me fruit flies, mice
and/or roaches any day,
or give me death!
I sit here writing this message to you,
My dilemma is choosing that somebody who,
Will cause me to soar and fly ever higher,
But this selection process has caused me to mire,
I admit the candidates are of numerous sort,
And hard to decipher from the initial escort,
Some friends say I'm picky, some say too impatient,
Some say I'll never find that perfect creation,
But, since you are out there and obviously listening,
Let me inform you on what you are missing,
To begin, I'm not going to mention my looks,
Except to say I don't hide behind books,
I relate to those who find life very humorous,
And repel against those who embody the tumorous,
If you're searching for someone that can be predicted,
You will not find my image depicted,
Not that fickle or whimsical could be a feature,
I'm just a bonafide, certified interesting creature,
My view is that life has too much offer,
In addition to ways of filling my coffer,
It's like a candy store, with shelf after shelf,
And I'm the one in the corner stuffing himself,
But, wouldn't it be great if I could just find,
Someone to share with whom I wouldn't mind,
Now what should you be like, I've pondered this thought,
Over and over, I get so distraught,
Someone who's set and ready to go,
To do whatever it takes to reach that plateau,
But, if somehow we do not achieve as expected,
We'll work as a team to get it corrected,
Someone who relishes the quietest of times,
And smiles and applauds at my silliest rhymes,
Someone who climbs mountains and even climbs trees,
See, I told you that I'm not too hard to please,
To confront my claims with a subtle refute,
And to cause my big mouth to diminish and mute,
Someone who sees things different than I,
And is willing to say so without being gunshy,
As for children, I'm not looking for three more wise men,
But, it wouldn't hurt if one could win the Heisman,
Most of all, your love must run amuck,
Because there will be those times when I'm just a schmuck,
I know that you're out there, I'm just not sure where,
But, please turn and listen as I stand and declare,
I will search through the universe until the end of my life,
Until I find you, my lover, my partner,
My wife.
(1/11/93)
I am a cat, at home I’m Ollie
But fellow cats know real name
“Intrepid Vic”, I dig that, golly
Grey tiger, finest at his game
I am the boss around here
Them humans lacking any wit
In house of mine they live, oh dear
We take up space in even split
They’re sort of fun to be around
I’m free to roam, eat and sleep
They give me hugs, but I may frown
No mucho fondling or I leap!
There’s plenty do around the castle
Lick milk, meow and preen myself
To tug on curtain’s bushy tassel
And jump to kitchens’ highest shelf
To scratch the pole, chase own tail
Lay on keyboard when daddy writes
And have a drink without fail
I love the dripping faucet pipes
This cat hates bathing with a passion
The tongue is all you need, capeeche?
A counter walk is still in fashion
As diet of livers and the fish
Be engine to the cat-drawn carriage
Kids want to have for their doll
I play good sport, so I can manage
Paw dinner meat and have a ball!
To walk around, rubbing lightly
Against the people and the turfs
Affection? Nay, we rather rightly
Stake claim to lands, you naive serfs
The backyard run is fun and game
Chase birds and squirrels sans result
Stop screaming your approval, dame
I brought you mouse, not insult!
The fight with neighbors’ cat is tricky
We hate each other, what a schmuck
And stray feline escapes the quickie
Love interest gone, I’m out of luck
Then watch TV about tabbies
High time to purr enjoying snack
Dive into fishbowl acting grabby
Ascend the tree for doggie pack
Kids drive me crazy with a laser
I drive them nuts by hiding mum
Love being family’s hell-raiser
At times I’m meek but never dumb
A blade of grass to treat a sickness
Do know exactly what I need
And have that fur to show for slickness
“Meow the kitties!” is my creed
To plan a day some quiet time
I need in total solitude
Slink into curve ball for bedtime
Wake humans early for my food
This life’s intense and full of peril
And so much fun, it’s cats’ delight
Plans for tomorrow? They are feral
I have to sleep on them tonight
© 2022
Nuttin boot mieskeit goyim...
lives among this nebbish atheist of Jewish ancestry
Tongue in cheek Yiddish
humor to playfully scold
often time sounds
like a compliment
yours truly, (a run
of the mill Shlimazel) behold
only knows a smidgen,
yet grew up within household
where foter and muter
kibitzing did unwittingly mold
their second born
and modest chutzpah
regarding only son undersold.
Though at times
he earned appellation schmuck
just ask the misses -
yea that yuck a puck
she will be more
than willing to chuck
kill with delight rattling
off with aplomb and pluck
I eagerly attest with
veracity that she blurts "ƒµ©*
you a$$hole," her
glib endearment -- yuck,
which does wonders
to spark romance
no surprise, yours truly
rather be struck
with self driving
smartass self driving motortruck.
Aforementioned language
used by Jews no longer lost
in central and eastern
Europe before Holocaust
originally German dialect
with words tossed
from Hebrew and several
modern languages jost
today spoken mainly
in US, Israel, and Russia.
More so acuity, affinity,
and avidity of late
growing interest doth
not seem to abate,
hence I could rattle
off voluminous spiel
megillah but best abbreviate,
otherwise which followers
might suddenly abominate,
thus this son mentsh chin hubble
meshugener wordsmith
best accommodate
preferred brevity lest
he doth accumulate
a slew of gentile enemies,
apt to annotate
unsolicited comments
their choice lingua franca
pointedly, happily, decisively,
and brazenly annunciate
and cheekily crow
kush meyn tukhes
in Macy's window.
Analogous to most
every previous poetic theme
I set low standards on par
with Bupkis, you probably deem
that comparison over the top,
hence please choose a meme
most apropos even extreme
expletive epithets or... dream
up fictitious, (albeit "fake")
that one day maybe come supreme.
There are good days, bad days and sad days,
There are happy days, snappy days, crappy days
There are days so fickle it seems you clasp
the wisps of joy eluding your grasp
There are those days...
Some days come off so intense
You'd only speak of them in past tense
Some days are so halcyon and carefree
Other days have you saying "Dear me"
Every other two hours because you make
The dumbest and silliest mistake
Some days are crazy and forlorn
That leave you all spent out and worn
You'd never stop feeling so blue
Those days come and go like flu
But the hardest days of all it seems
Having to handle the crash of dreams
Replaying each minute watching the hours
Receiving the thorns instead of flowers
Blaming yourself, and blaming the world
Then retreating to sob and cry, curled.
There are those days...
You'll have a fair share of good and bad
You won't imagine the days I've had
Mind-boggling, tongue-twisting, kabish-kabash
Of course the rich and the "out of cash"
Days of extreme luck and days of grit
Days of hard work in sleet and heat
And today you just got it over with
The flesh gone, leaving just the pith
It could have been worse you know
Think about the trauma people undergo
Are undergoing, accidents, crashes
The universe doggedly flogging them lashes
Homeless hopeless, days without sense.
You wouldn't even use it in a sentence,
You just lost, well even if it was
(your fault) don't dwell on the schmuck and schwuz
It's a random progression if you will
That some days be good and others still
Would go over your head or below
Or places that you won't want to go
Tomorrow it'll be glorious, that is true
Because after pain, joy is due
And even if it didn't end in praise
With a smile, (cry for a while) and then relate
As though you didn't have a worse-off fate
And say "There are those days..."
After Analicica Sotelo’s Death Wish
Her swollen eyes speak a different version of ASL for those of us who understand it,
But not too many of us understand it because her composure is thicker
than the makeup she uses to hide the wrinkles taking over like tyrants. Before
wet tears moved in like my unemployed cousin on Welfare
Leaving only the crystalized, microscopic, residue of constant failure
And salty circumstances, I’m sure it tastes a little like Fireball and Jose Cuervo
Because that’s what she hopes to replace her blood with ‘cuz her heart deserves a drink, too.
And she can’t recover because Ed Sheeran’s “Dive” pounds in her mind all the time.
So she mangles her napkin till its remnants scream mercy and tap out
Only to grab another one, because in her hands are where the serviettes go to die.
She begins to twist it, and it no longer holds a purpose. The frail sheet becomes a casualty
of war, enemy fire going off, paranoid shot glasses being slammed down all around her
But that napkin could have easily held a lipstick printed number that could have
Been passed on to some down-on-his-luck schmuck looking to comfort himself
Maybe even comfort her enough so that she forgets no one is watching. I see her.
Time cares for no woman and stops for no man but for just a second it watches her
Intently as it wraps its minutes and seconds around her throat and squeezes so tight
Her eyes begin to bulge, and she struggles to gasp that last bit of air trapped
In her gullet. It’s too late for her because her perfectly made up face won’t allow the
Others to call 911 and she loses consciousness with the twisted napkin still in her hand
But right as time is taking her life it loosens its grip, “she has suffered enough!”
He shouts out in ASL while the alcohol takes its course one last time.
More than a vacation, a vocation
In the field of tranquility you
Search the Caribbean blue
Sensation or mental refuge
White sandy beaches wet
Peaches in drinks collect
Making the experience perfectly
Sweet, worthy as a bodily
Treat. Club nights, escapes
In lantern light vases
Erases memories of work
And the Jerk in Apartment
24B. you are lovely, true
Disconnection from Kansas
Dorothy, pitchfork my ass!
And to heck with Toto too, I like cats,
Bat-monkey bellhops serving champagne
On balcony restaurants under starry
Safari-scene coca bean cabanas.
Your hammock sways, snapping
Shirt stays as rays of sunlight brook
Your book and cook toes
That glow from wearing
Black shoes. No swearing,
Sweating, connecting flights
To sit here and there, eating
On the go in slow traffic, lights
And horns blearing in through
Hotel windows. Without AC
You see a sea on your desk
In your messed up cluster
Schmuck of yucky tapestry
Adorning cubical rat
Mazes. In code and number
Each node and blunder, busses
Screeching breaks on lakes
Of concrete. meat sickles
Tickle the fancy of Metro
Nancy’s claiming amnesty
From male mannerisms
As aneurisms claim hardy
Workaholic espresso toting
Suits late for some meeting.
Welcome to Pleasure Island
Were your wildest dreams
Are you, making love to
Models, crack dealing to stay
Away from the hustle, bustle, bubble
Muscle-man tan left sleeve down world.
Colors brilliantly hue the rising
Set down let down, it all really is
A biz of romance looking askance
At boom box beats from street
Thugs in Timberland boots
That choose to use time
As a crime enterprise
Of lies. But you aren’t there
You’re there in bikini underwear
On the water in your Caribbean
You picture frame from a last
Trip that wasn’t drug induced :)
Form:
Ron Dump says he’ll destroy North Korea
With finger poised, we have so much to fear
He’s a power mad glutton
With his hand on the button
Will the universe still exist next year?
BY JAN ALLISON
I just hope his finger gets stuck
Where his bum cheeks do tuck
I don't live in fear
Long as they're up there
oh Don why are you such a schmuck
BY TIM SMITH
He couldn't have made it clearer
His objections to North Korea
Did his blow up doll fail
At the point of his exhale
Revenge is a good butt cleaner
BY SEREN ROBERTS
Ron's trigger finger is too quick to attack
Mouth gets him in trouble for talking smack
A rocket up his butt
Another to his gut
Should put an end to Ron Dump, the quack
BY LIN LANE
In the genre of equal time
May I present my 2 cents and a dime
Rocket Man's been coddled
By Barack Obama's Bobble
Now Trump is gonna get him back in line!!!
BY CHUCK MELUGIN
To the moon ‘North Korea’ the Rocket Man says
I can press this button because I’m the Pres
But his hands are much too small
Can he do it at all?
A comedic tragedy like Lucy and Desi Arnaz.
BY WINGED WARRIOR
Supreme dictator mad Kim Jong un
shows off his massive hydrogen gun
Donald trump wants to play
time for us all to pray
Irreversible act when they're done.
BY ROY PETTS
PLEASE SOUP MAIL ME YOUR POEM IF YOU WANT IT TO BE ADDED
09-19-17
First the line/
Next the heavy sinker !
Dealing with Tony is like dealing with a real stinker !
It's so not what you know/
Rather it's in who you blow !
Out cooking the books for Tony/
He'll be the best asset in getting you a loan,
The pool shark Jones had just left the premises/
Out cooking the books for Tony !
Mr. Jones was sleeping around on the misses/
At one time he thought he was some contender ?
Pressed for questions his approach was all wrong/
Out there painting the town then sleeping with the fishes/
Yet couldn't even bother to pay the dinner tab/
Now their cleaning all of the dishes/
Loose lips tend to sink ships when there out numbered/
They may be out tripping along with Rosie The Derivator !
Hence, the line was suddenly drawn in the sand !
Yet too many there be that try to stick it to the man ?
Within time elapse their can come pain/
Like not having you in my arms is driving me insane !
Two Kanucks' came back from The Jersey Shore !
One knew Tone;
While the other schmuck was only half Sicillian ?
Tony took in the first,
The second shortly after when along for some ride ?
Yet if you really knew Tony/
You would have every bit of reason to run away and hide,
He lives to cook the books on the side !
Yet just like he loves his greasy french fries !
Today the mob still rules it's just in a different form/
We have no reason by which to run away and hide,
Only if your a Sicillian !
I know my way around this town of debauchery.
The streets and the boardwalk all have familiarity.
After all, I have played many games of Monopoly.
The things I see everywhere are not a bit strange.
There are several vagabonds asking me for spare change.
The images of furs, jewels, and sports cars are a fantasy.
The things that are real are deception and vagrancy.
Here is one solid concrete fact everyone should know:
There is no place to collect two hundred dollars for passing “GO”.
For most of the night, nobody has been able
to make his point at this cold craps table.
Each time the shooter takes a pair of the dice,
the outcomes have almost always not been nice.
Will the luck turn around? I have plenty of doubt.
Right after the bets are made, along comes a seven out.
Those fools in the casino are making their wallets a bit light.
What else can be expected on this typical night?
Well, here is a guy that will shoot the dice from the don’t
He wants to see a seven out, and hopes that he won’t.
From the choice of five red cubes, he only needs two.
He has to take those bones, and send them on through.
He is even laying big odds against himself to lose.
The house gives each player the freedom to choose.
What do you think happens? The schmuck makes his point!
This is a typical outcome often found in this joint.