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Best Poems Written by Shaymouse Puntnkick

Below are the all-time best Shaymouse Puntnkick poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Foghorn Lakehorn, and I Couldn'T Be Ed To Look Up the Spelling

Pooicide 
Fungle sneze 
Fitched in a dish 
Shat in a dish 
So says he with the dick in hand
Shredding skin as fast as one can 
Blazing that shaft into the billowing shreds 
Leaving his head as swirling reds
Popping up and down
Apple cobbler 
Yummy, said he 
With a dick as big as he

Details | Shaymouse Puntnkick Poem

Poultry In a Dish So Round It Makes the Swallows Go Down

S and P

Receding towards grassy plains, fizzing with the sparks produced from unnatural synthesizers. I am tired, letting out an engulfing yawn. My ship, torn and withered as it may be, is uniquely mine. I have never doubted this once, though I have twice; I will not get into that. 

What I will get into is the silver beneath my legs, the makings of such being from some sort of nectar which seeped, akin to perspiration, from the widening pores of cruel, unfurled humanity. A chuckle in a dry-mouth forest, with timber aflame and raging lacerations tearing through with fiery menace, licking bark and brush. 

I grew to appreciate it; firework display at dawn, morning replete with boiling cake and melting fevers. Ice slips into pools of blood, and what was sharp was then soft, lapping upon the outer voice of reason, christening it in a way both pure and impure.

Spoken words float and dance and oscillate to the cadence of distant gunfire; the clatter resonates through earthly skin and mossy gauze, letting past residents in on the secret: man was not done with their domain.

Honey, I’m home, we shouted, spilling into the surmounted mounds of dirtied pebble. Skittering further and further, where fear was the zeitgeist and we were the empowered, springing to action dogma resilient enough for the most fervent iconoclast. Ebbing and waving goodbye, the generational tears of a lost people stood in silence, blending with shadow and muffled flicker.

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Did You Hear It, You Smoldering D1ck

Fine if not 
I did 
It spoketh into mine own bloody ears
Mate
Bo
Blood E
Smoking timbers in the hatch 
Touchdown 
Says he 
With the wise head
And the big ol balls
Jewish smile 
Racist!
White well-meaning and poor taste of sense
Brilliant!

I heard it
The knuckled pause
The smoke and mirrors 
I heard the tutelary 
I looked up and grinned 
With semen falling in volleys 
Oh God
What has become 
Of me

Details | Shaymouse Puntnkick Poem

Not One

Not a single one
Story 
Tune
Funny
I was th
ere too 
Deep 
Meta and
Deep

Say it with me 
Deep
Meta and 
Deep

Hopeless bunch, aren't ye? 
Hopeless bunch of coconuts