Short Censors Poems

Removing the planes that hit the towers ~ censors no longer cower...

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In ambush await censors external      
     
      ~ Though censors internal are more infernal...

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sense-ore scents
or
sense-oar sense
soars

censors scent-sore sense
or
censors cent-sore sense
sores 

stan sand...

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To Austrian Egon Schiele
human anatomy was oh so real
By censors he was put in the dock
as his paintings were a great shock...

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Soup Censors will never weigh risks
Of publishing physical frisks
For children must know
Wherever they go
Saint Francis rode three asterisks...

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In the beginning was the bird
Shortly thereafter dropped a turd
It fell in Eve's hair
She roared like a bear
But Soup Censors heard the F-word...

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An hen that lost touch with her flock
Sought Hickory Dickoree dock
But as she flew near
Her heart filled with fear
Soup Censors deleted the cock...

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Many Brits are good friends of mine
A Benny Hill thing, ten times out of nine
My hero all the way through
Went to the same silly school
When censors sleep, my naughtiness shines...

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Writing Limericks in the last wee while
In my own inimitable quite naughty style
Hope I get by those censors
Nothing gained nothing ventured
Might be singing “in a while crocodile”...

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Grow in the meadow
Cute little pussi willow
Appear in the spring
The most adorable thing.
You make spring a time to sing.

Poetry soup's censors won't let me spell the word with a "Y"
...

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poetry scents a:
sensor
no sensor
sense or
no sense or
sense soar
no sense soar
sense sore
no sense sore
sense ore
no sense ore

but

scent sore
censors
send sore
sense or
no sense ore


stan sand...

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Been writing Limericks in the last while
In my own inimitable quite naughty style
Hope I get by those censors
Nothing gained, nothing ventured
Might be singing “in a while crocodile”

© Jack Ellison 2013...

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Sure hope I get by the censors with this one
Did you hear about the sweetie who fell on her bum
Some guys grabbed her private places
Helped her up, grins on their faces
What glorious heroes these kind men did become...

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How do I love thee, but maybe the censors are listening
Waiting to pounce, muzzle me, that's when I start bristling
My love is like a volcano
Waiting to erupt in a halo
Of kisses and slobbers and naughtiness wiggling...

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it's hard to believe...
the bull taken as news...
it is not a dream...

'protect the public...
our goal'...the news caster said...
what?...from the real truth...

screw the news censors...
t-rump supports killing children...
millions...saudi war...

f--k him...

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When Ozzie & Harriet wed
Censors decreed one to a bed*
Desi & Lucy
Never got juicy
But McCarthy still dubbed them, "Red!"  

* It was not OK in the USA for
married couples to share the 
same bed, but always OK for 
people and puppets to beat 
the crap out of each other,
leaving Soup poets to wonder
why people are so cruel! ...

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Scarlett, Rhett, Tara
“Fiddle-dee-dee War War War”
~ ‘I don’t give a whoop’





Poet’s note: Okay, okay, you’re right!  Rhett Butler didn’t give a “whoop” in the most famous line of Gone With the Wind.  If the film censors had their way, it may have ended with a “whoop.”  But they didn’t and the rest is history.



Mark Toney © 2018...

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i wanna vent like Bukowski
but the censors won't let me

be heard

won't let me cock my hat
and unload my gun
won't let me

be heard

i wanna howl like Ginsberg
but the censors don't like

my words

my swagger Redd Foxx like
when allowed to write

my words

i bet i could keep you up at night
if you allowed me to

be heard...

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when downcast eyes
slip clear
  drip down past
    drop sodium waste of gain
slip fast
  and tunnel vision
 like deathbed follows
     censors diffusing to wind
        reality diffuses to senses
  and amazingly
    even then
 the chest loosens   
  and warmth fills the shoulders
    a frown one eighties
  the embrace is over

'cause it all gets better eventually...

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Dear  Someone,
I am a prisoner
But humanism has inspired me
I wrote in my diary
That while I will never be Ivy League
My DNA enables me
To change my criminal pedigree
Dear Someone,
My cage is draconian
But the fire inside me
Won’t stay ignorant
It builds slowly
Fed by the sciences
As censors try to silence the id
I’m from the school of Prometheus
Yours Truly,
A Humanist...

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Land mirrors balaclavaed moon tonight, 
The dark blindfolds insects in drunken song, 
And censors bawdy bullfrogs’ ancient rite. 
Our starved eyes protest truant fireflies’ wrong,
As we raise high a flame of bright sarong.

Pixies may dance nude with rioting sparks,
A sleepwalking coyote somewhere barks,
While hot crackles heckle the clouds away.
We thrill to a new June the warm wind marks,
Think of the bonfire of summer at play....

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Why do you who
insist that you love me
continue to rape my spirit.

Suffocating it as the wolf censors
the sheep’s last breath

You insist that I be as you dictate
but, you bleed me.

I a pawn; you a player
you manipulate my existence

Lost in the group mind of ignorance
you smother me.

My soul is older than you
Yet, you would sever
my physical existence.

Perhaps I should have aborted you
and kept the others human…perhaps…...

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There’s a hole in my wall, a beautiful wall, 
A hole that’s made out of stone,
It’s where I live, beyond this stone hole,
This hole that’s all that I’ve known.

This wall, it protects, it shields the world, 
Buffering from the insane of my head,
It seizes all those thoughts that are flung, are spat,
It censors the ideas that are said.

And this hole allows the world to know,
It allows the world to stare
To see the small bit of my mind 
While the rest of my mind’s elsewhere....

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