Short Gook Poems

Hook of book
Chook of cook
Rook of shook
Dook of look
Gook of took
Jook of nook
Wook of vook...

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Much confusion by the angry rabble
Noisy voices, unheard gibberish babel
Turkeys in a gobbly gook central gabble
Political idiots who argue while they dabble...

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P     Pipes corroded

L     Lies, folds, and bends 

U     Under a sink

M     Mans the phones

B     Butt crack showing

E     Extracts gook and hair

R     Rodents and snakes...

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A wise old owl this duffer's become
Trying to appear brilliant, flapping his gums
At times what comes out
Gobbly gook creating doubt
Bout the power of the brain or am I just a bum...

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I never bounced like freak
Never go up through trick

To complete poetic palazzo
I am the last completion brick

My tongue never gives anyone
Neither gook nor any prick

My verses fit to everyone's story
Everybody wants my poetry click

Imran is a name of humble
He never prouds on rhetoric...

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Hey! How come you're using my Banderella cook?
                      It's mine now. I found him in my wife Liza’s nook
                                           Finders keepers,
                                           Losers weepers.
                   Use tenterhooks and cook your fatty goose in  gook....

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Thesaurus sits waiting
ready for my direction
autumn feelings usurp it
fly buzzes by my left ear

dogs stare curiously at me
waiting for a signal
second fly lands on my right ankle
robins and wrens converse

their garbly gook sounds serious
we are all calm here
my dogs and I
loving the outdoors today...

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Today I’m grateful for understanding 
how the ripples of love and kindness with their constant motion
works very similarly to the waves upon the ocean…

If I send love and kindness out with the tide…
heading toward the horizon…out across the sea….
when the tide returns there’s a gook chance
love and kindness will find their way back to me....

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What’s a cell without its membrane?
A bulbous mass of uhck?
A strung-out sea that’s ever-expanding?
An ugly pile of gook?

Does it know where proteins go?
Are signals always mistook?
Do organelles discombobulate
And invaders overlook?

Can it feel? Can it fathom?
Does it know which way is up?
Is a formless blob of matter
Anything but gobbledygook?...

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A women's bathroom needs a hook
Though oftentimes it's missing
And so our bags must sit in gook
While we are stuck there pissing.

Since men don't have this issue
They don't even need to hurry
And, without the need for tissue
They, too, lack that extra worry.

My suggestion? A reversal.
Let the menfolk hold our purses
And you'd hear, from this rehearsal,
Quite a chorus full of curses....

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Your sharpened tools slide
just deep enough to see
what truly lies inside

the seeds of life
amid the the muck
just looking for
that gentle touch

a gleam of soul
one could behold
thru thoughts and feels
and scented rush

those hands, so soft caress
the curves, the goo, the gook
oozing from a hidden nook

wet, you warm with charms
putting creative juices to test
upon the shell of this, your pumpkin
lighting a fire that burns, all night, inside...

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