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NGUS'S ******


YEAH IT'S FUN TO SEE ANGUS'S AC/DC'S ******
HE FELT HE WAS WEIRD, BUT ALSO FELT QUITE COOL
CAUSE AS HE DANCES HIS COOL DANCE STYLE
OFF WENT HIS PANTS TO SEE HIS COOL JOCKS
HE PARTIES UP, YEAH HE PARTIES DOWN
AND HE PARTIES RIGHT WHERE ANY CONSERVOS FROWN
AND IT'S COOL TOO SEE ANGUS'S ACCA DACCA ******, YEAH
YA SEE HE TAKES HIS HAND AND RIPS THE SHIRT FROM HIS BACK
AND THEN SANG OUT THE FLAMING WORDS, WE GOT THE JACK
PLAYING WITH HIS JOCKS, THE ACCA DACCA JOCKS
RUNNIG AROUND SINGING HIS HEAVY METAL SOUND
PRETTY COOL, FOR A ACCA DACCA SINGER LIKE HIM, DUDES
NOW HE IS PLAYING THE GUTAR WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE
AND AS HIS ****** LOOK COOL INDEED
COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED
ANGUS YOUNG IS MIGHTY COOL INDEED
SHOOT TO ****, WE BREAK NO RULES
I DID BUT ONLY THE MORALIC RULE
ANGUS'S ******, OOPS HIS JOCKS
GO HOME AND READ FOX IN ANGUS'S ******

YEAH IT'S FUN TO SEE ANGUS'S AC/DC'S ******
HE FELT HE WAS WEIRD, BUT ALSO FELT QUITE COOL
CAUSE AS HE DANCES HIS COOL DANCE STYLE
OFF WENT HIS PANTS TO SEE HIS COOL JOCKS
HE PARTIES UP, YEAH HE PARTIES DOWN
AND HE PARTIES RIGHT WHERE ANY CONSERVOS FROWN
AND IT'S COOL TOO SEE ANGUS'S ACCA DACCA ******, YEAH
YA SEE HE TAKES HIS HAND AND RIPS THE SHIRT FROM HIS BACK
AND THEN SANG OUT THE FLAMING WORDS, WE GOT THE JACK
PLAYING WITH HIS JOCKS, THE ACCA DACCA JOCKS
RUNNIG AROUND SINGING HIS HEAVY METAL SOUND
PRETTY COOL, FOR A ACCA DACCA SINGER LIKE HIM, DUDES
NOW HE IS PLAYING THE GUTAR WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE
AND AS HIS ****** LOOK COOL INDEED
COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED
ANGUS YOUNG IS MIGHTY COOL INDEED
SHOOT TO ****, WE BREAK NO RULES
I DID BUT ONLY THE MORALIC RULE
ANGUS'S ******, OOPS HIS JOCKS
GO HOME AND READ FOX IN
YEAH I LOVE ICE CREAM
AND I LOVE LIFE GOING ON ADVENTURES
I LOVE CONCERTS, I HEAR CANBERRA
SAYING, LET'S PUT ON POISON CONCERT
FOR BRIAN ALLAN AND AC/DC CONCERT FOR
BRIAN ALLAN AND TWISTED SISTER FOR BRIAN ALLAN
YEAH, I STILL LOVE HEAVY METAL MUSIC, BETTER
THAN THE ARMY, I LIKE LIVE CONCERTS
I THINK IT'S RATHER GRAND
HEARING, THE CROWD YELL ANGUS ANGUS ANGUS
LIKE THE ****** BURGER ANGUS
I ALSO HATE DAD'S VOICE SAYING YOUR LIUKE ME AND MUMMY BRIAN
I LOVE HEAVY METAL AND I AM HEARING THUNDERSTRUCK AT PRESENT
I AM NOT LIVING IN THE PAST
I AM LIVING IN THE PRESENT FOR A PRESENT
I PREFER HEAVY METAL, I ALWAYS LIKED HEAVY METAL
BETTER THAN THE ARMY, I KNOW THEY ****
BUT WHERE'S THE THRILL, HEAVY METAL MUSIC IS SOOOO COOOOOL
LET'S PARTY PARTY PARTY ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT
I WILL CLEAN MY HOUSE LATER, AC/DC ARE MORE IMPORTANT MATE
BEING COOL IS MORE IMPORTANT AT PRESENT
I LOVE ACCA DACCA, THEY ARE ****** RADICALLY AWESOME DUDE
HEAVY METAL GOES UP, HEAVY METAL GOES DOWN
HEAVY METAL IS PLAYED NICE AND LOUD
AND THEV SCREAM OUT TO THE REAL LIFE CROWD
YEAH ACCA DACCA ARE COOL
WE ARE GETTING RID OF DADS OLD FOGIE
LIKING MY LITTLE CLEANER 24 HOURS A DAY
I KNOW I MIGHT HAVE WANTED THAT, TIMES CHANGE, DUDE
ACCA DACCA ARE RAD
David Nelson Apr 2010
Jocks

While lovely Eileen entertained us all,
with her wonderful words of lace and satin,
it made me want to answer the call,
make guys proud, like General Patton

the guys wear jocks to cloister their tools,
the perfect size so hard to find,
need to protect those precious jewels,
from errant kicks and grabs from behind

most are just elastic and cotton,
some are furry you get from **** shops,
absorb the sweat they smell quite rotten,
pick up with 1 finger or handles of mops

the backs are weird like gives you ******,
when grabbed by the band and yanked real hard,
guys in gym like to snap like frozen veggie,
then try to get you on their dance card

cause now you can sing those real high notes,
your face quite large like you have the mumps,
squeal like girlie man being attacked by goats,
don't bend over you expose those rumps    

but it is important to protect your package,
keep is safe for your favorite gal,
not real good to have swollen sackage,
not even if choice is a guy named Hal

Gomer LePoet...
ryn Dec 2014
It was those blue eyes, sparkling with words
I dreamt about reading but believed it impossible
Too beautiful to be seen with nuclear nerds
In my breakable beaker, you'd never be soluble.

A mismatched juxtaposition, atom for atom.
Even if I permutate, molecule by molecule.
We could never have struck stable equilibrium,
I could never escape the premise of ridicule.

Spent too much time postulating the unknown
Spent far too long balancing tricky equations
Head dug too deep to realise a factor that had grown
An external variable that had encroached with similar intentions.


My hand slipped from the scale when your finger touched my own
I forgot the words "controlled reaction", momentarily
Seeing goosebumps on your skin, and other bumps now shown
I gently pushed your wayward hair behind your ear, daringly

A moment frozen in the range of sub-zeroes
Dare I forgo the mandatory steps and arrive at a conclusion?
If I do I'd garner the title, "the nerdiest of all heroes!"
My "spidey-sense" failed me this time, and awarded me with a "fist-meet-face" reaction!

Happened in a blur, nanoseconds that sang in mock.
What was it that left me in a twirl?
Propped myself up to see the wrath of a crimson-faced ****.
All fists, no brains who yelled, "Hands off my girl!"


All this hilarious yet passionately painful hullabaloo
Let me drop the beaker of sodium in the zinc basin
Forgetting not to get it wet, the moment, clearly now unglued
When suddenly, "BOOM" it sounded like a pending cremation

Jocks, and nerds, and screaming cheerleaders
Hit the ground like a lunchtime scene from downtown Baghdad
And Blondie whispers in my ear, like a gypsy mind reader
"Maybe we should cool it, for I am in love with another lad"

Her words hit home and burned like The Lindenburg on fire
Amidst the fracas, cracked voice stammered to mask my bruised latent ego
"Nothing improper... Just an attempt to save your locks from the Bunsen burner
Science is my only love, just so you know"

Thanked God for my eyes and the need for correction lenses
Those thick convexes made it easy to not reveal
Steadied my frames and packed in hasty pretences
Accusing eyes followed as I exited the room with tears concealed...


Pieter Meyer
**ryn
You may have read this before as it is a repost of my collaboration with the witty and incredible Pieter Meyer. He seemed to have gone missing, along with the poem. So here it is... Hope you enjoy it
Dan O'Neil Mar 2015
This is Not Glandular - Dan O’neil


I don’t use excuses. I never liked them.
The people who say “they were born this way”.
Husky….Stocky…. Big-*****…
Let me start by putting your minds at ease.
This is not glandular. So, i am not a fat man..  
I am a FAAATT man. And i am **** proud of it!
I am proud of this body.
I chose to be this size.
Chose a body as BOOMING as my voice ,
with the softness to counter my sharp tongued words.
Chose puppy cheeks,
so my grandma will always have something to pinch.
Chose hands that look like hot-dogs glued to a baseball,
because thats really funny to picture.
I chose to be a mountain of a man,
just incase any ladies were feeling adventurous
and wanted to hike to the summit.
Trust me, this is not glandular.

I chose this body because of the women,
because the ladies love the funny fat guy!
Because any girl who won't take me if i'm fat ,
is not anyone i'd want if i was thin.
Because I am 230 pounds of cuddling,
bearing down on you like a force of nature,
and there is NOO escape from my snuggling.
Because i am a teddy bear,
whose heart is on “E” and desperately awaits the next woman to refuel him

I chose this body because of the FOOD.
Because there are 6 meals in a day.
Breakfast,brunch,lunch,siesta, dinner ,and the taco bell drive thru.
And theyre ALL the most important meal of the day.
Because just like lonely , ***** ,and angry. We all get hungry.
Because my mom told me that some people show love by cooking.
So i got cookies instead of hugs, meatloaf instead of kisses.
And fried spaghetti sandwiches, replaced bedtime stories…
And i cleaned my plate every time because it was all i can do to say.
I love you too.
I mean i never knew my dad, and Rick.
Rick was never the hands-on step father.
Unless you consider the occasional slap on side the head.
So food became my surrogate fathers. Kernel Sanders and Chef Boyardee
Became my models for manhood.
Which explains my obsession for weird hats..

I chose this body because of 7th grade PE
Because if just one fat guy is confident when changing clothes
it makes others more confident, because dodge-ball is a ****** sport
so who cares if i get knocked out first? Running the mile is TORTURE!
But so are the jokes.. If the fat guy can't finish.

I chose this body,because other people not liking my body is not a good enough reason for me to change it.
So to the bullies, the lunch ladies , to the women who NEVER gave me a chance.
And the football coaches who berated me with insults. To the jerks and the jocks
And the doctor who joked when i stepped on his scale. To Rick and Kernel,
and ANYONE who ever used F A T as an insult. You can do what i did for the last 2 decades.
of my life doing. YOU CAN EAT IT.

Because i love pies,  i love hamburgers ,french fries ,and lobster, and deep fried twinkies
I love me some rice-a-roni and salisbury steak, microwaved burritos ,
cooler ranch doritos and ice-cream , the kind that you push that had Fred Flintstone on it.
I love cake. I love everything about who i am and the life i get to live
No. This ..is .. not ..glandular. Its just fat .
And for the first time in my life. Im proud of that.
tonight we gather
to mark a
commencement day

four decades on
from a late June
afternoon

exchanging
embraces and
bon voyage wishes

departing a grand
chandeliered Rivoli
embarcadero

bound
to glorious
destinations

our bold sails
welling with
youthful
exuberance
in pursuit of
dreams
and intrepid
endeavors

our life
journeys
are blessed
with rich
abundance,
the grace of
challenge and
the gift of days

this evening
as we reconnect
to share the joys
and wisdom gleaned
from well lived lives
we will also celebrate
in multicolored splendor
the lives of classmates
who have commenced
journeys to other
destinations

though their
earthly sojourn
is complete
passed friends
remain alive
in our memory

surely the spirits
of the beloved
will walk this
room tonight

forever young
their quiet presence
will gently touch
tender hearts

they’ll appear
as they once looked
on their finest day

and as we relive
the bits of our lives
we shared with
one another

we may feel
the grasp of a
warm hand
as we once did
during that
snowy evening
west end walk

we’ll dance with them again
around Tamblyn Field bonfires
gyrating in a shared
ecstatic ebullience

we’ll applaud most likely
to succeed lives
most beautiful smiles
and crack up
to the hilarity of
class clown jokes

we’ll taste the kiss
of an after dark
Lincoln Park
rendezvous

groove to the
rock steady
beat of a
bad company tune  

we’ll submerge again
in a Yellow Submarine
to embark on an epic
Greenwich Village
journey

we’ll roll down
the shore on old
Thunder Road
windows open
hair blowin
radio blastin

we’ll taste the sweet sip
of Cherry Cokes
and Root Beer floats
at Roadrunners

chasing lost love salty tears
spilled over ***** upperclass home boys
and the soft blush sentiment of a
first French kiss

wouldn't it be nice
to swoon to the
fantasy and
winsome yearnings
of favorite
summer songs

filling our head’s
with mind
blowing collages
starring
team mates
drama club
second takes
heady chess club
checkmates

we’ll marvel at the disruption of
premillennial breakthrough science projects
created by pocket protected slide ruling
entrepreneurial math wizards

we'll recall droll gossip
by drab hall lockers
dim gym showers
awkward dances
Yippie people power

patriotic assemblies
cool sharp dressers
right on brother
Que Pasa lil sista

rock and roll album covers
Simon and Garfunkel poetics
Go Go Boots kickin
FM radio psychedelics

Midnight Confessions
emphatically blared
from the cafeteria jukebox
Civil Rights, Earth Day
and righteous
anti war activism

tribes of hoods, Ra’s,
jocks, artistes and tie dye hippies
everything is groovy
lets get a sandwich at Ernie’s

first carnal explorations
Moody Blue Tuesday trysts
man could she speak German
boy do I dig her dress

we did hard time together
at split session detention centers
ate chocolate chip cookies
cracked up to Mr. Thomas’s
Ides of March tragedy

took first tokes and
sips of Boones Farm
we partied hard
and did no harm

admired academic brainiacs
and the civic commitment
of student govie reps
shut down the gubmint
was never a threat 

basketball rumbles
Bulldog football
**** Ludwig soccer teams
nimble cheerleaders

leggy majorettes
kick *** marching band fanfares
compelling masquer presentments
Park Avenue wayfarers

they were
crew mates
on The Soul Boat
rode shotgun
to Midnight Rambler
Doobie Concerts

cruised hard in
the Root Hog
Rat Raced Louie
in tiny white Pintos

we booked
many a mile
with our lost
friends

on the road to
this evening

authoring
volumes of
fabled odysseys
and fantastic
recollections

their stories
are our stories
telling our stories
keeps them alive

some may say
gone too soon
but the measure of
a well lived life
is not counted
in days, nor
accomplishments

but how one has loved
and how much one was loved

quietly there
always with us
forever to be
a wholesome
part of us

as the brothers
from Cooley High
would say

lets tip a sip
for the brothers
and sisters who
ain’t here….

God bless
Godspeed
enjoy the evening
vaya con dios mis amigos

Music Selection:
Pat Metheny
Mas Alla


RHS 74
Class Reunion
Elks Club
Rutherford
11/29/14
Charles Bukowski  Jan 2010
40,000
at the track today,
Father's Day,
each paid admission was
entitled to a wallet
and each contained a
little surprise.
most of the men seemed
between 30 and 55,
going to fat,
many of them in walking
shorts,
they had gone stale in
life,
flattened out....
in fact, **** it, they
aren't even worth writing
about!
why am I doing
this?
these don't even
deserve a death bed,
these little walking
whales,
only there are so
many of
them,
in the urinals,
in the food lines,
they have managed to
survive
in a most limited
sense
but when you see
so many of them
like that,
there and not there,
breathing, farting,
commenting,
waiting for a thunder
that will not arrive,
waiting for the charging
white horse of
Glory,
waiting for the lovely
female that is not
there,
waiting to WIN,
waiting for the great
dream to
engulf them
but they do nothing,
they clomp in their
sandals,
gnaw at hot dogs
*******,
gulping at the
meat,
they complain about
losing,
blame the jocks,
drink green
beer,
the parking lot is
jammed with their
unpaid for
cars,
the jocks mount
again for another
race,
the men press
toward the betting
windows
mesmerized,
fathers and non-fathers
Monday is waiting
for them,
this is the last
big lark.
and the horses are
totally
beautiful.
it is shocking how
beautiful they
are
at that time,
at that place,
their life shines
through;
miracles happen,
even in
hell.
I decide to stay for
one more
race.

from Transit magazine, 1994
Mike T Minehan Jan 2013
She is equipped with sensitive *******
and those other secret places
that ladies give out as prizes
to deserving guys as long as
they adopt the right disguises
of gods, gurus, intellectual giants,
goats, children, father figures, macho brutes,
sugar-daddies, supermen, seminal vessels,
house-repairers, jar openers, jocks, hate objects,
handy shoulders to cry on, emotional support systems,
sensitive, intuitive, yet strong silent types
who can also pay the bills,
tall dark and handsome total strangers,
toy boys, clowns, jugglers, jokers, millionaires,
wood choppers, ******* removers,
bottomless reservoirs of reassurance
or just plain spunky studs when the moon is right.
In fact, anything but woffly wimps.
Oh God, no.  Anything but woffly wimps.
Yes, but what about stoic, steadfast SNAGS,
you know, the Sensitive New Age Guys
who won’t face-shift for a ****?
Yes, well, let's try to sum all this up here right now.
I think that the woman is dripping
with a brimming reservoir
of luscious and sensitive resources on tap for  
the man who can figure out her cosmic kaleidoscope  
of swirling dreams and desires,
which is definitely not to say she can’t be totally independent.
Although please don't be confused.
Friendly boy-next-door types who are handsome,
aren't too hairy, who like to laugh, who have a boyish braggadocio,
who are students, who appear to be intellectuals,
who are not nerds,
and who can **** it in the kitchen, who  can be oh, so cool,
who can convince a maiden that she is in distress,
and is in need of rescuing, while he has
a swaggering hard-on will do, too.
Oooh. You devil.
And if you think this poem is misogynist, misanthropic or myopic,
well, I’ve been around and by now, well,
I really should be panoptic
because I’ve seen all the fads,
and really, it’s sadly too bad
about those poor old
earnest SNAGS.
But you know what?
I don't think I understand anything, because
I'm really a victim of worshiping women.
I'm bedazzled and as blind as the next man, and
yes,
I'm just happy whenever I'm with them.
Yes. A complex topic, this one...
Melanie Dunn Sep 2010
In reality everyone judges.
So caught up in their name brands.
Whether or not we hold our grudges,
Labels are for soup cans.

We assume that everyone we meet fits a certain frame,
It's easier to do this, so that we will understand.
But once you get to know someone, your first impressions' put to shame.
Because labels are for soup cans.

Smart kids are nerdy and will never be intimate.
Popular kids are jocks and girls with fake tans.
Then there's the rebels who take risks and think nothing of it.
But labels are for soup cans.

In reality everyone judges,
But again, labels are for soup cans.
This was just a silly villanelle.
Telia  Aug 2014
Nerd Poem
Telia Aug 2014
I'm considered to be nerdy
Awkward, not flirty.

They call me gay,
Because I Cosplay.

I must be a dork
Because Zelda's my lord,
And she's way cooler than any sport.

Could someone love me?
That couldn't be.

I watch too much anime,
And BBC.

I praise The doctor and Spock.
Even Sherlock.
Cause in my opinion
They're better than jocks.

Being nerdy is quite fun,
But you make me sound dumb.

We're accepting and caring
But please stop staring.

Am I making this boring?
Don't start snoring..

Just give me a chance.
I'll make it last.

We could play Skyrim or league.
Wait, don't leave!

I can be cool,
Just like you!

I can calculate big numbers in my head,
Or make a fortress out of my bed

I can be an ork, elf, or spy.
Just as long as it's allowed by the die.

I can cast spells online.
Don't worry, you'll be fine!

I can role play to the extreme!!!
That's right, I call it d&d.;

I'm proud to be a geek.
Yes, we're very neet!

We know our facts!
We're anime maniacs.

I'm good at mtg!
It takes skill to be like me.

I'm cool I tell you!
I'm grand.

But at the same time,
You don't make me feel great.

I'm a loser,
A dork

No, I don't like baseball, football, or hockey
I can't bench and I don't lift.

But I go to some pretty intense parties...
On Xbox.

My heart is bigger than my head..
No, not literally.

I'd bring you a rose
And write you a poem

You'd be my Rory.
This isn't the end of the story.

I'd love you more than
video games, Star Wars, and D&D.;

In the end,
You're always my MVP.

You don't have to lie,
I know you'll decline..

but my feelings won't change.
They'll always be the same.

Maybe I'd be cool..
If I were with you.

But that'll never be
Because you fail to see OTP.

Then again,
It's all good in the end
Because..

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Manga costs less
Than dinner for two.
Micheal Wolf Nov 2013
What a guy!
What a player!
On the field he was the slayer.
The only son, the one to watch.
The one who others tried to match.
He had the looks and physique
A grades at school for all to see.

Now he pays a heavy price
Drinks Jack Daniels every night
For all his life he was pushed
To be valour dictorum in the year book

He had problems so deep inside
He didn't want footballers thighs
He wanted silk and lace with heels
Not the college football kit
If he could have what he dreamed
He'd be a cheerleader on that field

As a boy late at night
He gave his mom a real fright
There he was in her clothes
His father beat him and killed his soul

Years went by and James was wed
So he wore his wife's clothes instead!
Till one day he bought his own
Shaved his legs and went out alone
He bumped into a group of jocks
Who beat him because he wore a frock

Now in the mirror he has scars
That match the hundreds still inside
For James outside to all of you
Was Jayne inside and then showed you

But now at 50 for him to late
To be reasigned and be just Jayne
Times have changed and so have views
If he wants to, let him wear Jimmy Choos
So if any friends I have Called John
Wants to be simply Joanne
Let me know asap
We can celebrate with a drink.
Disgusted at a story I read about a tortured soul.
Humanity needs a good kick and not this way.
Ignorance is bliss,
really,
more like Stupidity.
an aspect,
benefiting a person,
like cold sore,
irritating,
an annoyance,
peevish to your life.

Face it, honey,
you’re as fake,
as your personality.
You’re plastic,
I could melt you,
if I truly desired,
setting a lighted match,
to your artificial body.

Please, take some advice,
lay off the make-up,
you look like a clown,
maybe a *******.
Tanning is acceptable,
but looking dark orange,
is outrageous.
There is no need to look,
like you just rolled in bag of Doritos,
that’s Snooki’s Job.

There is more to life,
besides appearances,
waking up like P. Diddy,
sweet heart, don’t like be Kesha,
it’s ******.
Partying is enjoyable,
but not necessary every night,
consisting of drinking,
frat boys, jocks, pretty boys,
saying “oh my god”,
or “I broke a nail”,
and precarious ***.

I know you were raised with Barbies,
but you don’t have to be one.
Barbie is a piece of plastic,
containing no originality,
with an unfeasible body,
and isn’t real,
much like yourself.
Stop with the act,
no one wants to be,
around a person,
who is often intoxicated,
narcissistic,
and a ditzy *****.

You can be a girly girl,
but be genuine,
stop being a follower,
if everyone jumps off a bridge,
then you’ll be splattered,
upon the ground with them,
no use to anyone.

My words are probably useless,
going right through the holes,
of yours ears,
attached to the plastic head of yours.

Anyways, I tried,
as excruciating as it was,
to reach out to you,
who are living this life,
of alleged greatness,
more like a travesty,
in my eyes.

Hopefully, you’ll change,
wake up from this social stupor,
become yourself,
regain your individuality,
and cease to be,
a Barbie doll.
at the quarterhorse meet
at Hollywood Park

around 5 p.m.

if you are sitting at
ground level

in the
Pavilion

the track appears
to
be

above you

and

in the strange
shadow-
sunlight

the silks
are
so
bright

the color
is
like

fresh paint
on
canvas

and

the faces of
the
jocks
look

heroic.

it's a
grand
time

then

a perfect
and
peaceful

photograph

dream-
like.

such small
moments

keep

people
alive.

such small
moments

so
large

when

it

all

comes
together

and

hold­s.

— The End —