When picking the poet to precisely perform your poem of preference, the poet should be able to project their words to a populated package of people in a party at any given part of the day. If this poet produces a pathetic presentation of your poem, you may punish them with pits of pointy spikes. While your poet personally picked from the pool of poets you perused performs the piece, you may pitch a new poem to your professor. If the professor has positive words to pass onto you about your progressive poetry, the parcel of poetry will be passed onto the next pool of poets you personally know.
Bob and Patrick were young babyhood krabby patty crib mates
They have been together since babyhood, there are no debates
Patrick is a good friend, but Bob has to take care of him a bit
For Patrick was born completely naïve with eyebrows that knit
He believes whatever you tell him; ideas are not in his pointy head.
The red dots across his belly are proof that he is probably overfed.
He does not understand some of the wittier things happening around.
But his friendship and loyalty to SpongeBob is well known in the sound.
You've seen me at the circus
In front of adoring fans
With plates on top of pointy sticks
I spin them with my hands.
I have a whole row of them
Up to sixteen at a time
I even wear a blindfold
You've seen nothing of the kind.
I'm not really a performer
In the circus or the stage
But I perform at your local court house
Where my kid's future is being played.
We all have our parts to play
In this strange game of charades
But fathers have to work twice as hard
For their image to be maintained.
"Children need their mothers
She knows what's best", they say
But fathers have to prove their worth
Every step of the way.
Sometimes there is justice
Sometimes the judges see
That the best interest of the child
Goes beyond you and me.
Children are so vulnerable
In this dancing tug of war
So fathers keep your wits about you
Don't fight to settle a score.
Your children truly need you
In this time of change and strife
Remember you're their father
No one can take away that right.
So spin your plates if you must
And keep your anger in
Play their little games for a while
Pray that your children win.
Pray that your children win.
the new technique gave Nancy the looks she was striving for
Her hair looks like holly berries, said her doggie, Thor
That is what she was after said the cat who is always smug
The tips were pointy, when I gave her a tiny hug
Thor stared at Nancy’s hair as it walked down the street
Red and green hair, how could that be beat?
It was nearly Christmas week, after all
Her new hair was holly berries, pointy, colorful and tall
.
Did edvard mention
hern hairy chest
Yesss
'tiz mine visage'z mane
Did edvard mention
hern hairy
chest
Did he munch with
i mean
Mention
Hiz lip's stuck
Did edvard mention
hern curl'dup
next hern oak
Hern purty wild
lock'd 'to it's
root
Did edvard mention
hern stuby 20digits
Hern
pointy hearz
auburn tressez fromg dome
'to neath hern
dirt
Glister'n pink sheath cover'd with
diaphanous wrapper
Thuh toot poof toot each
hern walk
Hern tramp
Toot
az thuh crystal flute
Did edvard mention
Hiz find her
curl'dup
Hiz elixir
Hern pleasure
purpose
promise
hoot
The serene evergreen,
Always the same color screen,
Just different shades to be seen,
Green is the common theme,
A healing color scheme,
Branches streaming with activity,
Filling every little cavity,
Dancing with gravity,
There has to be a billion points,
A million joints reaching,
Into the air we're breathing,
Pointy bristles teasing us,
Some pleasing to touch,
Emitting so much energy,
From every extremity,
A remedy for what ails you,
Nature knows what to do,
Forever green in your view,
Proof you can make it through,
The harshest weather too,
If you just keep moving,
Reaching,
Proving you can make it,
Each action groove with the flow,
Blowing through the oxygen,
It's the fuel for the engine,
A billion points begin to open,
Accepting an ocean of energy,
Sending it to every extremity,
The evergreen may hold a remedy,
To the secret of longevity.
O I
love Bella
and her
pointy fluff ears
and long whiskers.
And oh those eyes
gold when excited
or moss green,
when calm,
I love her fur
so soft to touch.
So fluffy and purring.
She loves to cuddle
all the long night.
I hold her in my arms
when we go to bed.
She loves to play with me.
I throw balls and she runs.
I told my friends- no, no,
more cats for this here girl.
They said just give it time!
Oh, my- days were empty,
sometimes, I heard meows
call, call, calling for me.
But now my life is full
'cause,
I now
love
Bella
kitty
and
I think
she
loves
me
too.
This time of year Santa’s tired
He fell asleep by the fire
His pointy ear elves
Jump in to help
So on Christmas he won’t be mired
Stuck in my bracelet,
Like strung up brains.
Eating my name in pieces, strips.
It’s been two days.
Everyone has eyes and cracking joints.
No buzz, or splintering.
Maybe just a little taste of transcension.
And me.
Sickness and burrowing.
Like the shadows do.
Tipping the burden onto my piercing brain.
Sickness is nothing like me.
My weird bracelet is like wires like me.
Rubbing my hands excitedly.
Moving my hands around as if a meteor is passing by and I could catch it…
Or even Saturn’s rings floating a couple miles north.
I could chop this bracelet off anytime.
If they gave us…
The pointy things we salivate over.
In the shower.
In the shower, it’s more brutal than ever.
Wear nothing except this…
Thing.
Sickness is nothing like me!
A little taste of transcension.
And the hasty results.
It’s been three days.
On a clock which transcends even me.
Wicked women cast spells
Wearing black pointy hats
With warts and green faces
Warming bubbling cauldrons
Waiting for their potion
While luring bats and frogs
Whisking away on brooms
back in the day
we polished our shoes
laid out our clothes
put our hair up in curls with pointy picks
on Saturday nights
back in the day
it was church every Sunday
chicken or beef with noodles for lunch
always pie, cake and Jello
then a visit to grandma’s house
back in the day
we ironed our clothes
using sprinkled starch
dressed up to go on airplanes
purposefully did not swear
felt safe at school
back in the day
... is wearing his tall white top hat
Where his brains should be
Wearing his rainbow bow tie
Where his vocal cords should be
He fancies his dragon cane in his hand
No surprise his shirt is Hawaiian Kine
Made of silk with coconuts and palm trees
For design
He wore brown khaki pants with suspenders to hold them up
His socks were knee high green with tassels on top
But his shoes were the best, better than the rest
All shiny and pointy
And ready to dance ...
Dance away Dance away
Dance through the night
Dance, Little Bear
Dance away Dance away
Dance through the day
Never stop dancing
Dance away Dance a way Dance away
Dance all ways always all ways
Dancing without a care
As He chops away, chops away chops away time
He sizzles and grills fantastic meals from his mind
For he fancies himself a cook not a chef
Being chef just seems too sublime
Canis Lupus
The sound of a pin drop in the
kitchen downstairs wakens me.
I get a whiff of a strange scent
not one I can identify.
My eyes open and I can
see in the dark.
Unusual, as I always stub
my toe on something.
The nightlight is on and
I make my way to the bathroom.
I glance in the mirror and
see a strange face look back at me.
Yellow eyes, dark black pupils
look out from narrow slits.
Long pointy snout with
silky whiskers from each side.
Jet black lips curve back, reveal
yellowish curved fangs.
Pink tongue with dripping saliva
hangs out the left side of the mouth.
A full moon shines through
the bathroom window.
I feel the call of the wild
in my bones.
As I bound down the stairs
nothing can stop me.
At last I am free to live
the life I was called to.
“Gimmie another poem, make it a double!”
Quote from John Lawless
Block Head
John asked for a poem.
He said make it a double
I took out my pen
and knew I was in trouble
Words wouldn’t come easy
I couldn’t make them flow
Lacking articulation
My thoughts far too slow
I grasped at my corners
The pointy parts of my head
I thought about talented writers
and all the poems I have read
I could write a sonnet
or perhaps a haiku
So many forms to choose from
Whatever shall I do
Why not be silly
Some might get the joke
Maybe I’m sorta special
just like other folk
So give me a verse
I’ll mix it with my own
When drinking words
you shouldn’t drink alone
Although I like quiet
my heads a hectic place
I want to insert lines
into every blank space
Wordaholics are frantic
We need our next hit
Wild wacky or stoic
We love every bit!
So drink as you will
Feed that addiction
But be very careful
to choose the right diction.
Same different day, They stare because I don't look the same, another face without a name, I'm betrayed by my appearance the fact I'm rather pale, The tracks that cover my skin give me horns and a pointy tail, I'm covered in spots red and inflamed, the darkness around my eyes makes me appear drained, my clothes are baggy and never clean, The real me isn't visible I'm only what can be seen, its obvious im an addict so people feel the need to stare, without saying a word its amazing how many people i can scare,I'm growing tired of peoples ignorance, loosing my temper is becoming a more regular occurance, Im labeled a trouble maker, a nothing a nuisance, but none of them know me where is there evidence,I'm convicted as a criminal without commiting a crime,imprisoned by fear and hate living is serving time.
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