Short Punk Poems
Short Punk Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Punk by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Punk by length and keyword.
A Chipmunk
Alvin the chipmunk
Dressed like a rock punk
Got not
Tie dot
Sure smelled like a skunk
Written: Dec.6,2015
Theresa
SUBSTITUTE INGREDIENTS
punk smashed the pumpkin
knocking on the witch’s door
“come in pumpkin pie”
10/10/2017
my body's hairy
punk let me say make my day
action real bullets
Form:
The wife was as drunk as a skunk
When she bumped into a young punk
Before he knew it
She simply blew it
Is that what they call a "Slam Dunk"?
He goes by the alias Outback Jack
Telling tales of OZ, he’s got the knack
Little Joe's no punk
He’s an Aussie hunk
Whom I’d love to get in the sack
Caught in a funk; feel like a punk?
Know this: The Almighty doesn't make junk!
His great love and plans for you
Not even the devil can knock askew!
A jazz loving beagle in Fairfax
digs Dizzy and Miles to the max
But it’s now hip-hop and punk
No more groovin’ to Monk
He visits neighbors just to relax
To some he was a punk,
to others quite a mystery.
A jailbird and a drunk?
A fan of film and fistery?
But now that he’s defunct,
finally, Bunk is history.
The Thanksgiving feast was a shocker
When the turkey danced, doing the flocker
As the family looks on
Pour glasses of patron
Then assume the turkey was a punk-rocker
Into Brain of Trump
A perturbing fact said he is a punk;
Abnormal brain tissue has a hunk;
Was curated,
And eviscerated;
Stunk and into Trump's brain sunk.
Jim Horn
Drunk, in a funk, a lowly punk, I shrunk from a skunk. It stunk. Away I slunk. I too stunk, I thunk. I took a dunk and sunk.
A chunk or hunk of B.S. or bunk? Please debunk.
Strong whiskey got me cock-eye drunk
Caused me to fall in a batch of raw conch
They were stuck to my face
And was sprayed with strong mace
Then they called me a scary a_ _ punk
Johnny Ray was a high-flyin' rock star
His songs thrilled teenyboppers near and far
Yet Johnny wanted more
Not some two-bit punk whore
But a woman who could pluck his guitar
Watch this Hispanic street punk
Furiously drive home his prayer
Frowning and sweating Latin funk
While the blond hippie shakes down her hair...
Santana at Woodstock, 1969 on U-Tube
I am a drunk,
Iam a punk,
I am a romantic,
I am Frantic,
I am Loud,
I am proud,
I am fearful,
I am tearful,
I am a dreamer,
I am cleaner,
I am a worker,
I am a hurter,
Form:
Yes I'm fake no moving parts nothing real or new about me.
Just another punk looking for a place or someones time to waste.
No this ain't a suicide note the easy way ain't as fun.
And I am nothing new.
Form:
People's perspective of having the freedom of expression
Understanding the like-minded people around you
Nothing will take away your freedom to be who you are
Koolest genre and thing to be in the world
Outnumbered
1756 to one
I stood alone
I stood
Alone
In a culture of music
Unlike anyone else's
Flogging Molly
Scathed my back
With mad plaid in my mind
And Was Beder Das
Youth of rebellion
I stand true.
deeply dark and disturbingly mysterious
diabolical and Gothic, with a hint of Victorian
as punk as any bouquet that came before
she smiled when she came upon them
They were perfect, her man knew her well
He was a keeper
On going problem with my hair
Will I won't I do I dare
Fed up with grey need touch of pink
Tattoo wanted~ sporting ink.
FOUR-LINE LIGHT VERSE
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
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L MILTON HANKINS
Smirk
sweet, humorous
unsettling, fun-loving, revealing
Punk-rockers, Saints, Sharks, Jesters
enticing, manipulating, masking
salty, vexatious
Smile
I strut the bars of night
Rawhide jacket with chains
Disco gyres through punk seventies—
High on beer, Marlboro
Leather brands me-- rebel
Innocence gone from wild kisses.
Nette Onclaud Contest: Knit Your Fabric
11.08. 17
it seems
to me that
your asterisk
is breathing
or at least
taking a
breath
except
mine is
subjective
to certain
subjects
that are
willing to
subject me
NOW
slowly
breath in
and
out
and
in
and
*
.......out
Form:
Patti dropped her pants, turned away from the river, reached down and touched her toes, and squirted back a big spray of piss. The river rose, spilled the banks, washed away the world. Now we are free, at last, at last, on this empty empty planet.
“Individual”
I wear tight pants, and dress in black
I’M AN INDIVIDUAL
I’m not a copy nor a fake, I am what I am.
I’M AN INDIVIDUAL
I’m not ghetto, or punk or prep. Labels and steriotypes don’t suit me.
I’M AN INDIVIDUAL,
Yeah, I’m me.