"flintstones" poems
And we’ve all been there, me and my lovers,
we’ve all see our fair share of troubles.
cause Romance is Chance in the form of a Dance
and I’m sorry to say I still move like I did fifteen years ago.
Macarena with me and I’ll sweep you off your feet,
maybe someday I’ll learn to waltz and blow you away.
Until it all comes crashing down.
Because inevitably it all comes crashing down
even the Flintstones died millennia ago.
My Anna Marie, I’m sorry you left,
Europe ringed and you answered,
I guess we couldn’t afford long distance
(is that even still a thing?)
and I couldn’t wait for you,
I was too young and too ready to love again.
Dear Jenna,
Darling,
as much fun as you are
we move at different speeds,
and mine’s stuck in the slow lane.
I liked *** on the second date,
but I wasn’t ready for the **** three weeks in.
God knows I’d never try and change you
even he doesn’t have the ***** to try.
And God bless you Tiffany,
cause it ***** to die,
but it ***** even more
stuck here saying goodbye.
Bachelor Status reaffirmed:
**** sites filled to capacity
with self-made men of audacity
come to satisfy their proclivities
“Dear phantom girlfriends,
you’re here to gratify
Please entertain us in our fantasies
and our impossibly similar tendencies.
Also, it wouldn’t hurt if it’s all free.”
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
The amount of days I've been given have been kind, but each day rather cruel
Trying to lift the thumb off my back of the looming stresses that rule
It could be me again and this is not the end, if fact it probably is
So before I unleash my problems, swear to mind your business
I would be lying if I said I wanted this day to last a forever
Because I found myself one forever short once we weren't together
I've said my piece so many times the puzzle is almost complete
So I've decided it's time to get off my knees and back onto my feet
I've fallen so much I keep Flintstones band-aids close at hand
My heart sewn to my sleeve for only you, which I've yet to understand
You unscrewed the machine that was me and left the parts on the floor
And I'm pretty sure I won't work just right anymore
Fading is the dynasty of what we labeled our so-called "love"
Like sticking my foot inside my sock at night to find it's a glove
The discombobulation is so overwhelming, I think the ocean is jealous
Could I start swimming now or is that being too over-zealous
Life is hard and the people crammed in it tend to make it worse
At times I tell myself it to cry, look to the sky, and curse
But there's a tune in my mind that won't seem to shut up from that one song
Telling me life is a ride, kid: grieve, learn, burn, and move on
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 11:33 PM UTC
What kind of Animal(goes woof,woof)
When we were growing up, I bet all of us had a favorite TV show,
and one of the things these shows for younger kids had I know,
was a song of some sort that would make us laugh and smile,
It was always some silly little ditty, just think back a while,
you had the Flintstones with their Yabba dabba doo,
Captain Kangaroo and Mr Greenjeans and Mr Clock too,
now I don't know all the shows, or the songs that you sang,
just trying to make you think, make a bell go clang,
my favorite was from the Howdy Doody show,
guess that makes me really old I know,
they would sing this song about animals, for little tykes, 1st grade,
trying to identify, by the sounds that they made,
like the title of this poem What kind of animal goes, woof woof,
the kids would respond a dog of course, you goof,
and on and on through all of the chickens and ducks,
bet the smile on your face is worth a thousand bucks.
Gomer Lepoet...
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 1:06 PM UTC
Black coffee
2 eggs looking at you
buttered Wonder bread
morning paper
horn rimmed glasses.
neatly pressed short sleeve summer shirt, with a Fruit of the Loom tank.
work trousers and oil resistant black shoes
Old Spice, and Brylcream
Howdy Doody in the background
the screen door slams
a white Ford Farlane 500 starts up and pulls away
awaiting the sound of the Ford
wash up for dinner
pork chops, sauerkraut
applesauce
green beans
evening paper
maybe the Flintstones or Dragnet, but always the Friday Night Fights
late night visits to the fridge for a sip of Malox.
My Father does not believe there is a heaven, or hell
he says when you die, you just die.
But I don't believe he ever knowingly lied to me.
He voted for George Wallace, but he also Voted for Barack Obama, twice.
He served in the Army during World War II, and still cooks hash brown potatoes every Tuesday night for his local American Legion, where he also plays poker and most of the time wins. When I asked him how to win at poker, he'd smile and say... "Luck." When I asked him how do I get some Luck, he said "count your cards."
He doesn't want a funeral, no music, no wake, no one to say anything about him. He wants to donate his body to science. And cremate the rest.
He says, "shut up and let people tell you who they are."
"Everybody is OK son , most don't know it though."
"Never count your money in public."
He has a small tin on the kitchen counter full of twist ties, hundreds of them.
There are shelves in the basement full of canned food and paper goods.
Depressionites are always ready for the next one.
When my Father and Mother go to their class reunion, they are the only ones left in their class.
I asked him what was the hardest thing about being 95, and both of them said, "all of our friends are gone, all of them."
My Father is 95 this year.
Happy Father's Day Dad
Thank you for letting me ramble here, I feel so much better. I am ready to have my eggs and coffee now."
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
After
reaching my destination,
I get bored easily,
all the new wears off my high,
and the people are all the same
Flintstones
I dream of a place of
Jeanie,
I am an astronaut,
I get creative,
rub a bottle or a
pipe,
think a magic vision
will smoke up
resolve all.
Wish me,
luck!
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 5:35 PM UTC
poetry was hushed
or ushered out from being compared
with philosophy,
well... bye bye systematisation
leave you to it...
it's hardly an art, given it only uses
two extremes that can't be defined
as colour, but more or less x-ray vision...
i know... so much colour and so
much perfumery surrounding
me that i wish to not replicate...
hence the stance...
important dates like the battle of Hastings
(1066), or the great fire of London (1666) -
such importance goes hand in hand
with being up-to-date for a quiz show,
alt. to knowledge? quiz or trivia.
poetry is that: it's the sole mediator
of history and journalism,
entry of Darwin on a 10 quid banknote,
poetry has to marry someone else,
it can't be stuck in a rut with pompous philosophy,
and it's too crude to munch off a sharpened flint-stone
(Flintstones? Hanna-Barbera?! **** off)
of Pythagoras' cubism - cubism, you sure?
only cubes herrscht? well hardly,
Marilyn Manson is still an introvert anomaly
in Essex amongst the zombies... as i heard in
a HMV, one of the last strongholds of the
mutilated high-street and the death of
the postman profession... they're going, those postmen,
you hear? among the carrier pigeons
shot down dead! unlike Sartre i'm making a claim:
evolution precedes adaptability... essence indeed first
and existence last...
and with regards to poetry, that great mediator
of journalism and history...
ten sixty six mattered as much as today's article
headlined: GAMBLING ADDICT 'DIED OF SHAME'...
hmm? it does... you can just immediately pick
out the correlation for a national egoism.
if it weren't for skin-heads the metal rock enthusiasts
would have been called meat-heads for head-banging
too much: smooch smooch (x x in slang).
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC
She sat on the carpet with a bowl of Lucky Charms
on her lap watching Scooby-Doo when she
swiveled and asked, “Why do I have
a cleft palate?” Before I could
respond she sang, “Frosted
Lucky Charms, They’re
Magically Delicious,”
and flipped
to the Flintstones.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
Who is to blame?
who are the giants who manipulate the game?
corporations ******* our lives dry and desperation, plastic bags,
deforestation
it's given me an inflammation
what in tarnation are we going to do?
You and the Who may be one and the same,
we all have some part in the terrible game
and I'm in the frame for it,
done for a little bit, sat and
watched people ****
all over nature.
The visionary drones on like he sees it with headphones on reading a script while the planet's being ripped out from under our feet,
a bit like, 'meet the Flintstones' and it's in bedrock we'll build our next homes and another generation will fill the forests, harvest vegetation, and the corporation will rise again, tell of its corporate lies again and we'll all believe that they're all sane men.
Who is to blame?
the blind men who read the bible and curse which the deaf man can't hear, but which is the worse.
Rant for a bit
and cogitate,
wait for a bit
and rant a bit more,
bits and bobs and the 'nobs hold the aces
the deck was rigged
just look at their faces.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 6:46 AM UTC
In a house within a home
lies a room anchored by frankincense borders
adorned with multicolored tiles
Only one wide oatmeal beige chair
in the corner yet
the center of the world
The house within a home is loud with laughter and simple
peeking excitement in small places
The door to the room wooden with a crystal doorknob
The feet of people travel all over the home they are welcomed
But down a set of stairs made of white concrete blocks
a plain simple chair remains outside of the room
tempting passers to wonder what's behind the door with
the crystal ****
Every evening into the night
I sit in the room with a composition book & a pen
I write
I breathe
I sing and hum
drawing the attention of an audience of one
One who puts his face against the door
making sounds like a whining puppy
while tapping lightly against the woodenframe
with his brown fingers
I put down my pen
tip-toe to the door
one hand on the **** gently
I place my face against the door
as if he could feel my kiss through it
I say " how can I help you ""
" who are you looking for"
" Do you miss something ? "
I wait in silence to hear what quirky words he will make up .....
He says : there better not be not be a man in there "
I reply ; wait let me put on my clothes and open the window
imagining his ****** expression deepens my smile
he says : Can I have a kiss ?
I say : Did you eat the food I left on the table its full of kisses
He says: No my fingers felt lonely on the fork without you
there stealing my food.
I say : Oh....
He says : Open the door
I say : You clean your feet
He says: Yessss
I say : liar what's that funny odor your toes ....
Truly I can smell the scent of his cologne and the sweet almond oil
I rubbed through his hair just before dawn
The memory pushes me to open the door
I paused and said ( knowing him like clockwork)
" Ok if I open the door do you promise not to pester me
He says " you have my word
Knowing better yet in anticipation of feeling his arms
I open the door and like always
he tackles me
like dino does fred on the flintstones
I enjoy it
It never gets old .
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
The fugitives invaded me in the
sixties series somewhere on
TV,
one armed bandits
one eyed half wits
we watched it all
Janssen
Thinnes and
that lot on the bins
for
a touch of class.
Alf Garnett
he could be a gas
and Irma down the Street
with her
coronation chicken feet.
Taken over
one channel at a time
sublime?
Well it was all in Black and White,
so we could tell the day from night, but
not real life you understand
just pictures on a screen
now repeated
though I have seen them all before
I watch again
I so adore
**** York
Samantha,
wiggling her nose
Bouquets of barbed wire
tied to a rose.
Top cat smarter than Kojak
and the Flintstones in their
dream homes down in Bedrock.
Knock me up some dreams to dream
and I'll scream ******
Norman Bates
Hitchcock laughed at
those blind dates.
Niven
Cribbens
Poppins
moons and balloons and railway children
who'll then tell me where it went then?
Standing for the Anthem,
auntie Beeb and then some
chips and curry sauce of course
it's how we rolled in
Lancashire
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
*I'm the little boy watching John Wayne movies
working on a Charms lollypop
I'm the five year old playing "Vietnam" with
a stick running along a creek in the back yard
I'm Neil Armstrong , Jimi Hendrix and Charles Manson
The Smothers Brothers , Dark Shadows and Captain Kangaroo
The iconic smiling face , the peace sign and the Farrah Fawcett t-shirt
Watergate , the Flintstones and Mr Ed
I'm Skylab , the men on the moon and 911
I'm Obama , Carter , Nixon and Reagan
I'm a pipe wrench working on the American Dream
A water **** passed among friends
A gung-ho service member
A fifty year old mess
A Mad magazine , an ever changing book explaining taxes ,
disability and the future loss of medical insurance
I'm better left alone most days , eyes locked forward at twenty feet tending to problems such as tall grass , ***** windows , tarnished brass
A mailbox in need of paint , fire ant mounds , dead leaves scattered along the ground* ...
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
Rolling down the block with the windows down,
heater cranked up with a clip full of rounds,
pull a Old Yeller put the old dog down
blow a fat blunt then blow up the town
listen to the sound a this M-16,
that's my version of the american dream,
people run an scream, hide duck cover,
lock up the doors pull down the shutter.
new dog same tricks scream mask face cover, blood shed orange red no head call um Fred,
last name Flintstones im ****** to death,
all heart no fear im throwing lead,
knight without his armor hes a shining mess /
no Kevlar pig bled to death
hail a hollow tips let loose in his chest
mail the proof of purchase send my fukin best
no i meant regards got no regrets,
**** a royal guard id rather pet,
my loyal dog now go bite his neck,
tear an rip the flesh eternal rest,
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 11:57 PM UTC
She never allowed herself to be as fragile as glass,
Until he lit her soul like lightening on sand, with a fiery crash.
Perfectly imperfect as perfect gets,
Like a cat in your lap, the heart is where she sits.
Her touch is like thunder and it rattles your bones,
Feeling like a little kid, it's 95' again and I'm watching the flintstones
As hard to read as a book in the night,
But in her presence, no wind is needed to fly the kite.
If there's one thing over all, her intelligence is key,
Because it opens up the door to display all of her beauty.
The stars in the darkness and how they seem to hold up the sky,
Or a baby bird that jumps and hasn't learned how to fly.
Sometimes life tries to show us all we need is a little faith,
And it can sculpt us into something beautiful,
Like a woodworker uses his lathe.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
The Flintstones, blast from the past,
That was a pregnancy to last,
For Pebbles we waited so long,
She did sing her own songs,
Now this is a fact so scary,
Pebbles has now turned sixty,
I can't believe how old we've got,
Once the Flintstones really rocked!
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 10:55 PM UTC
Building regulations
to regulate the
building of buildings
forms to be filled in
holding up ceilings
feeling I've seen this
on sites where
I've visited.
Rubble's no trouble to Barney
when
Flintstones are used in
Cathedrals
and
the church holds sway to the people who pray
to a God that holds sway in the churches
where
there's people who pray.
just building pyramids that will stand
and test time.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 12:14 AM UTC
There is a forgotten area
Where I call home
An unincorporated community
Founded to find flint stone
And like the Flintstones
We live in the past
Flashing to the water
Our lines we cast
Far back when church was the fad
And people toghther spoke
A community of lads
And decent folk
Oh the good times we had
Back in the day
The faster the water way
Is said 'round here
The less the water will be clear
Isn't that dear
An old country chestnut
One mirroring the community
All the surrounding suburbs
Love in unity
We love to be flown over
We don't mind at all
Less the people
Less the shopping malls
We love our oak lined streets
Back woods and hidden retreats
Maple, cedar, and walnut too
Oh so many a country tree for me and you
We insist to be forgotten it's true
The heartland alone with the morning dew
The people in the afternoon alone with nothing to do
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
Baby ima make u mine
Trap u like the Chilean mine.
Build-a-babies
8 or 9
like the Flintstones
Underground
cave systems
In the autumns
Shaking bottoms
Sipping bottles
Binge fcuki'n
Day & night
Candle light
Dine & wine
Back in time
Duri'n 69,
Free lovi'n
Doing 69.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC