"chewbacca" poems
Grrrrr aaaaann aagh aaaaahh naah,
Aaaang n' aghhh ahh grrrr aaaagh naaah,
Grrrrrr aaagh aan naaaaang aaggh!
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
i'm not proud of nicknames...
but then again,
i find nicknames to be
the archetypal form of
endearment -
a "belittling" with warm
affection...
i didn't have a nickname
in primary school...
the girls tried,
rabbit...
Danielle...
i remember Danielle calling me
rabbit,
why? the way i ran...
jumping in between
running steps...
i like Danielle,a brunette,
with enough freckles to
make her a ***** ginger...
high school?
Goldilocks
named by Graham...
or Chewbacca by Barry..
i was the only man attempting
to grow long hair..
a mullet wast the running
joke, among the Ian crowd...
university?
no nickname...
shitty time...
while industrial roofing took off,
working for my father?
Picasso...
i was meticulous with the tar...
but lately...
my grandmother has
a nickname for me...
because of my beard...
these days i'm know as
Castro...
i'm not proud of nicknames...
but i didn't make them up!
i wish i had...
that being said...
nicknames are
quiet endearing...
i'd love to see Danielle once more...
see how much the freckles took
over her complexion;
Danielle... **** me...
what an ****** name...
like m first love in
the English tongue...
the moment i heard it...
Sam-anth-a(h)...
curly hair,
darkened blonde,
mingling an autumnal-cherry
mahogany with chocolate
cinnamon...
****
i've been so erotically
mobilized / motivated...
from such an early age...
Danielle & Samantha...
nicknames...
and the rest is, history.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 10:04 PM UTC
wanted; - Liverpudlian rock stars
to sing fer me - the queen,
I'll pay yers all in corgies -
n transfuse ya wiv - caffine,
gorra bloke called ringo -
fer the bingo - inbetween,
support act - chewbacca -
n maca - in submarine.
Alan nettleton
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 10:43 PM UTC
I love old school motorbikes and their purring sound as they emit fragrances which trigger animosity and innocence.
It’s a total eclipse of the heart, don’t you think?
******** Lunatics, Undesirables and Eccentrics. That is the essential nature of angelic blue.
Forget those polished ambassadors of what is deemed to be contemporary.
Chop it up, Chewbacca, whilst spanners are thrown with obscene articulations.
It has been said that my father violently placed a bike in the canal.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 11:51 PM UTC
Some 'others'
and so-and-sos
don't want to be found.
They don't want to be
solid.
They don't want to:
dematerialize or to rematerialize or to manifest.
They don't want to come into being or exist.
Some so-and-sos are vagrant and delinquent.
Truant vagaries of brush strokes
mushrooming in the tresses of dresses.
Indeed, some 'others' wish to remain anonymous.
They reckon it’s reasonable
to protect a human standard.
Their privacy a prison of unwatchfulness-
the walls closing in like they did for Hans Solo,
Chewbacca, and the princess...
like Indiana Jones or some platform pitfall romance.
The 'others' wish to remain alone.
How else would they be 'others'?
Anonymity is the preferred state of 'others'
and so-and-sos.
It is their church confessional.
Safe harbor to their ******
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
Can you imagine that bottle of Canadian whiskey on its last few shots?
And my crouched body and their comfortable nostalgia?
And thoughts of these dark times,
And his dark grave,
And finally a drunk dial to an old friend
Consisting primarily of "I'm sorry" and bad, drunken Star Wars references
As if a few Chewbacca jokes can fix this mess
And there's that familiar feeling of almost breaking into tears
And the tough-girl response of **** this, pass me the whiskey"
And this hammered mess thinks,
I wish I could forget
I wish I could leave the earth
I wish I were Mr. Malachi Constant
And god **** I wish death weren't so ****** final
But then again, I don't think I've ever been alive
No matter how fast my heart has beat
No matter how sentient these moments have made me feel
And no matter how many shots of Canadian whiskey I managed to tackle
I think, like Frankenstein's monster, maybe I was born to be half-alive
While my mind circles back to these dark times, and his dark grave,
and finally a drunk dial to an old friend,
consisting primarily of "I'm sorry" and Star Wars references
as if a few shots of Canadian whiskey will bring us all to life
Are you a real boy, now?
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
But it ain't easy they say and it gets harder every day
I'm so cliche and I quote everyone I'm fucke sup duck me **** you **** this world and HEY FCK YOU TOO *****
Thank you chuuwee I'm making chewbacca noises and forgiving myself and making people smile think but here it is I'm here we're here we try to be try I think unless we being bad being bad don't choo know I've always been this way
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
wanted;
Liverpudlian rock stars
to sing fer me - the Queen,
I'll pay yers all in corgis
and transfuse ya wiv - caffine,
I've gorra a bloke called Ringo
fer the bingo - inbetween,
support act - Chewbacca -
and Macca - in yella submarine.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 12:50 PM UTC
*eating breakfast in a long time,
half a teaspoon of sugar,
coffee black, three marzipan
nuggets coated in chocolate,
two cigarettes...*
and wondering where did the time
go since silverchair
released their debut frogstomp (1995),
or what happened to the offspring
after americana (the song *pay the
man* still wasn't a commercial song),
or the sudden thrill of red hot chilli
pepper's reunion with john and
californication, deftone's white pony,
or when buying the mortal kombat
soundtrack, and someone nice enough
at our price putting a different c.d.,
not the score, but the soundtrack
with actual songs: type o negative
(subsequently ****** kisses),
monster magnet, k.m.f.d.m., and beside,
days with cassettes (m.o.d.'s mr. oofus
ha ha) - and gigs, tool in glasgow
with that awesome german girl
who i gave water to in exchange for a kiss,
wolfmother in edinburgh, a few gigs
in london (papa roach, disturbed,
type o negative, iron maiden, the offspring,
american head charge, rammstein,
slipknot, korn, red hot chilli peppers -
when that arena at canary wharf was still open)...
but then there was verdi's la traviata in st. petersburg,
and aerosmith in hyde park, and boy
did depeche mode rock hyde park too...
i mean, most these influences came from
my uncle, but i can't give him credit
for king crimson, jethro tull and other
prog bands (early genesis, for example)...
or the jazz...
but it's just annoying to not have seen
the holy wood tour by m.m.,
or not seeing slayer when jeff hanneman
was still alive - after all i pledged the
tribulation of growing long hair in school
to him, one day, looking at the band's poster,
i was 15 then and became known as chewbacca
for a while.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 5:36 AM UTC
I'm totally exhausted,
it's been one of those
twelve-hour work days,
the kind of day that
makes you delirious by
the end of your shift.
And I don't even recall the shower,
but I must have had one,
'cause I'm lying here in bed
with wet hair.
I just had a fleeting thought,
think I want to get inked,
have a Chewbacca tattoo
etched on my right calf.
I know I'm not crazy,
or even lazy.
I'm just tired
I guess, I'll sleep
on my furry animal
art-idea,
don't want to
be labeled insane.
Good night CP3O.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Of a round-shaped chocolate cake,
Of unlit candles of which the numbers has increased by one since the last time
Of empty chairs
Of balloons hanging on the wall
Of colorful hats neatly arranged on the table cloth
Of empty porcelain saucers
Like many years before
The boy sits there in silence
On an old wooden chair adjacent to the round table
No surprise nor gift
Nor people nor appetite
Like many years before
He acts like the cool Han Solo
Minus his 200 years old Chewbacca
‘Cause he only has his little antic toy car
No matter how luxurious it may seem
The cake, candles, confetti, balloons and all
The missing essence of people
And happiness and serenity
Could not make it up for him
He is a birthday boy who is not cherished or cheered on
He is a birthday boy with no joy
Like many years before
He finger crosses for the next year to be better
Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 8:49 AM UTC
She loved to play with food
and bicarbonate soda
experimenting with meat, she would
while talking just like Yoda
Adding strange things to her tucker
like oregano, dill and thyme
then laughing like she was Chewbacca
which helped these words to rhyme
and all her dishes were a show
theatrical like a play
She performed a long long time ago
in a kitchen far far away
Nov 3, 2021
Nov 3, 2021 at 5:04 AM UTC
Chewbacca never said a word
But we always know what he meant
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 1:50 AM UTC
The Millennium Falcon seems empty now
with no one in your chair.
Though you had a tendency to shed
I didn't mind, I swear.
Your presence was always comforting.
I took courage in your growl.
I might even have understood you,
if I could only buy a vowel.
Leia is waiting for you now
to take you by the (?) hand
Off you go now together
to the moons of Alderan.
So may the Force be with you, friend,
though mortal bonds now sever.
Take solace that we hold you close
in memory forever
May 4, 2019
May 4, 2019 at 5:30 PM UTC
mindful...
i still have
a worth of half
a steak's worth
of frying to do...
to the ultimatum:
medium rare...
roses are red:
but only well cooked
steaks are pink...
"chewwy", side note:
bite bite.
by now...
the world is anything
and everything
but a beautiful
place,
to write such words.
for a song to make
you cry,
for a song to make
you itchy...
of this flesh...
but of the same
sense of flesh,
without a sense of
belonging...
and then coming
across
a borrowing of
"reiteration"...
that lost sense of
appeasement...
self-congratulation
was never made into
a charles dickens' novel...
pride, pride: i too 'ide...
and 'yde...
fucking bollocks'
worth of a hidden gem's
worth of a "winner"...
ah wee,
ah chew,
i chewie...
-wwy...
chav and the chavvy
liquorice all-sorts
of the new vatican:
the victorian
puritans...
ah chewbacca...
ah the disgruntled masses...
ah this, ah the other...
ah: and all of england,
but none of London.
so... no part of, velsh?
woe and woo your
parts of...
timid,
and static,
and...
immobile
crippled to me.
the crusades were
not a reply...
to the concept of jihad...
jihad
is not reconquista?
but jihad is,
reconquista,
so what's the word
for crusade,
in arabic?
crescent-
maroondering
(close, almost a google-whack,
2 search results)
crescent-"maundering"?
have to start calling
the ottoman tactic,
the turkic,
the "anti"-arab mind-set,
the expansion into the european
balkans...
milošević:
milo-sh-eh-vee-"c";
there were also the northern
cursades of the teutons
against the prussians
and the lithuanains...
with polacks being the punching
bags...
i almost wish i would relate...
but...
i, "sort of", can't.
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 10:59 PM UTC
squeak my little mice, squeal my feline friends: the rats are coming.
you really picked the wrong kind of enemy,
one that finds your sense of humour
endearing,
and a sense of humour
that's both endearing,
and easily overturned;
the rat populace said so:
you have no veto,
that sort of privilege is left to the people
with enough political integrity
to not take to jogging
in the morning, as those blonde
chewbacca ****** take to,
outthinking the stability of the dover
cliffs, with some sort of masterplan
of the mexican wall...
how about you blow up the channel
tunnel first?!
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC