Short Bazooka Poems
Short Bazooka Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bazooka by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bazooka by length and keyword.
I know a man from Nkandla called Zuma
He has an offspring like tuna
He thinks shower
Has the power
To repair his broken bazooka
This squirrel is the best
Mess with him and you will rest
He has a bazooka and a gun
If you see him you will run
If your running and you fall
He will catch up, and help you will call
Here's a cool word, it's a “lollapalooza”
From ancient times just like “zippity-doo-da”
You young'uns have yours
But old folks more mature
Have our own cool lingo like a gum called Bazooka
Here's a cool word, it's a “lollapalooza”
From ancient times just like “zippity-doo-da”
You young'uns have yours
But old folks more mature
Have our own cool lingo like a gum called Bazooka
Here's a cool word, it's a “lollapalooza”
From ancient times just like “zippity-doo-da”
You young'uns have yours
But old folks more mature
Have our own cool lingo like a gum called Bazooka
Here's a cool word, it's a “lollapalooza”
From ancient times just like “zippity-doo-da”
You young'uns have yours
But old folks more mature
Have our own cool lingo like a gum called Bazooka
Here's a cool word, it's a “lollapalooza”
From ancient times just like “zippity-doo-da”
You young'uns have yours
But old folks more mature
Have our own cool lingo like a gum called “Bazooka”
Here's a cool word, it's a “lollapalooza”
From ancient times just like “zippity-doo-da”
You young'uns have yours
But old folks more mature
Have our own cool lingo like a gum called Bazooka
© Jack Ellison 2015
Pink as a baby’s bottom.
Pink as 1960’s Bazooka Bubblegum
Pink as Barbie’s Dream House
Pink as a 1959 Cadillac with chrome tailfins.
Pink as a perky, pretty, popular, pizzazz-y petite preteen.
We nicknamed her “Pinkie” which made her laugh.
Wads of Bazooka Joe under my seat
cigarette smoke in the john
Butting in line for some 'mystery meat'
giggling at boys with a 'hard-on'
This was the kind of mischief we made ~
before handguns replaced baseball card trades
...keep our metaphysics warm
( From : Whispers of Immortality/T.S.Eliot)
Keep our metaphysics warm
in dorm sheet our handmaiden
work like monsters bazooka
Slit our conscience and alas
masturbation is a metaphor
Hammer and chain God is lost
Only interpretation, function
of power not even truth, fly.
I hope your pen bleeds
And ruins your tweed
Stains your skin
Gets infected
Makes you ill
And you spill your jello
Get a scuff
On those new white shoes
I hope your birthmark
Turns out to be shaped like Kalamazoo
I hope I get kooky
When I get mad
And write silly stuff
Instead of firing
A bazooka
At your Humvee
Prudence rode her neon lime green bike down to the corner
Right up to the library
Entrance, she wore her bleach blond hair spiky short
Talking too loudly and popping her Bazooka Joe
Every time the librarian glared at her
Next to the magazine rack she
Covertly studied the science section hoping no one noticed her focused
Eyes
Poem Becomes A Novel
So, I am a novel and not a poem
That is what I said and I am never wrong!
So get that through your head!
You say I am a good for nothing poem
So What! So sue me!
With a bazooka aimed at the head
One might change their mind
Question?..... What am I now?...
A poem or a novel?
I hope you get it right this time
Hi, Santa, I want a pile of North Pole snow
and I’d sure like to know if it’d be too hard
to make my present a fulltime body guard?
My big brother treats me bad, he’s so mean,
and I know he wrote you for a guillotine!
He does gross things with spit from his tuba
and always shoots me with his bazooka.
Please, a guard on the scene until I’m eighteen?
This fashion is in, that one is out
narrow waists with baggy knees
Wide lapels and razor-thin ties
Who knows what will be
Slicked-back ducktails
top off muscle t-shirts
hoping to attract
coy smiles from a skirt
My friend and I dress real dumb
bowling shirts plugging Bazooka-Joe gum
The girls see us, giggle, and flee
Who knows what will be
The Cinnamon Bazooka Bun is an ardent dough
a pound of sticky heat that dissolves
the tongue in an ****** of butter.
There is an uncertain pantless fervor here
in the parked Impala, a craven pursuit of the
spiral core, winding mounds of sacchariferous frit
A cop drives by--and we shrink in our non-chalance
our frosted, reunion-phased glaze betrays no chance
that something untoward is not happening here.