"gasket" poems
I'm just a man.
I think things can be fixed.
My first aid kit contains
Super glue and duct tape.
Any box is a tool box to me;
I'll always look for the right
***** to reattach your self-
Esteem; the right clamps to hold
Your good days together. When
You cry, I want to open you up
Gently, lay out all your parts and
Find the leaking gasket.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
To Tory and Lucinda, you finally got your poem
Ok honey, I’m about to go
I’m about to blow a gasket
I’ve been working all day
Like a regular dog, got up
At the crack of dawn.
I’ve been saying yes Sir
All day at work and
I’ve been saying yes
M’am all the time to
You and now I’m
Ready to go. You
Can only push a
Man so far before
He loses the will
Or the effort
To try and please
Someone who
Can never be
Pleased. I
Need to get
My things
Together
And jus’
Reacquaint
Myself
With Jim Beam
Because I’ve been being
Good for much too long.
Now a good boy's gone bad
I’m now taking my time off
For bad behaviour.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 8:25 PM UTC
Obese
There once was a man, who lived in the city,
he thought his life was pretty ******
Had no family, friends or a job,
this mother ****** was a six hundred pound slob.
Sat home eating food all day,
collecting welfare, so he didn't have to pay.
Couldn't bend over to tie his shoes,
if not eating, he'd be taking a snooze.
Waddling himself to the local store,
buying food and nothing more.
Can't fit in any car or truck,
**** his life must really ****
Too fat to wipe his own ***
gets rid of ****** berries, by rolling in the grass.
Five years later he was eight hundred pounds,
hired a nurse who made her daily rounds.
Too fat now, can't even leave his bed,
she would feed him and wash him toes to head.
Better her doing all that than me,
I like standing when I have to ***
Two years later he finally died,
no one cared, no one cried.
He was forklifted to an over sized casket,
his heart finally blew a gasket.
Well I am here to say, I cared for this fat ****
even though everywhere he went, he got stuck.
He was human, just like the rest of us,
not his fault, he was heavier than a tour bus.
If not for him, there would be no rhyme,
and I wouldn't be wasting your precious time.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC
I hate you and your new car.
I hope every time you go to the gas station, it's three dollars per gallon. I hope you make so many enemies that there's a line to sugar your gas tank, I hope your engine knocks and your head gasket blows and your timing belt snaps and your rims warp and your tires pop every time you pass my street. I could still beat you in a race, even with your ugly sport package and plasti-dipped grill, I could still beat you in a race because I am angrier than you. I am angrier than you, and I always will be.
I hate you,
And I hate your new car.
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 10:39 AM UTC
Five pennies make a nickel
oh to trade for giant pickle.
Deal a deal a shiny button
In exchange for slice o mutton.
If me be a little silly
Swap it out for *** of jelly.
And if I sound a great big ******
change it for some peanut butter.
Trade my outhouse by the moat
For a topped- off gravy boat.
And me plenty, many worries
For a plate of huckleberries.
Replace me dreams of good eats
For some REAL potted meats.
And me sad wants and wishes
For food filled up dinner dishes.
Trade roof forever leaking
For a bucket of fried chicken.
And faucet missing gasket
For a filled up picnic basket.
Barter socks stiff and holey
For a Mexican bowl of mole'
Swap a dish rag smells a funny
For a jar of good old honey.
What I'm saying I so poor
I just want to eat some more.
Be willing barter piece me soul
Ultimately want my tummy full.
Mar 4, 2025
Mar 4, 2025 at 8:18 PM UTC
I am a machine
How 'bout that
I ought to run lean
But I am not clean
Ran over a cat
Made quite an impression
My passenger spat:
"That feline is flat"
Intake, compression
Ignition, exhaust
Here's my confession
(Oh what an obsession)
And what is the cost
For sweet release?
For toxins tossed?
Redeem what is lost
I **** squeeze,
Bang, blow...
Forget to say please,
Run hot with ease
My fluids are low
I'm 'bout to run dry
A gasket might go
And oil won't flow
Oh why even try
This machine is obscene
My insides will fry
And soon I will die
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 8:55 AM UTC
You only can die but once, they say,
There isn’t a second time,
We carry fears all along the years
When we think, which day is mine?
We envisage that marble headstone
That’s indicative of our fate,
Standing ***** in some unknown field,
And wonder about the date.
How often we hear that someone said
While trying to be more than brave,
But shuddering at the thought of the dead,
‘Someone just walked on my grave.’
It creeps on up, the length of your spine
The shiver that never ends,
Bringing a list of your sins to mind
With no time to make amends.
You think of that open casket,
And lying there sightlessly,
So all can stare, and look at you there,
‘I’m glad that it isn’t me.’
We wonder if we will hear them sigh
About all the good we did,
Or even know, if terror will grow
The moment they close the lid.
I think about Averill Crombie
Who said that she knew the date,
And suddenly died as she sat wide-eyed
Poking the fire in the grate.
We all went along to the service,
To say our goodbyes, as we should,
But then our hair, stood up in the air,
On hearing three taps on the wood.
We scrambled to open the coffin,
To find her still breathing in there,
And then she began to start coughing,
******* in lungfuls of air.
She tried to climb out of the casket
With many a cuss and a curse,
But then must have blown a gasket,
So we carried her into the hearse.
You only can die but once, they say,
There isn’t a second time,
She knew the date, it was simply fate
But the first time blew her mind.
I still see them lower her into the ground
When she’d died, just twice, perhaps,
But I couldn’t swear, when leaving her there
That there weren’t three ghostly taps.
David Lewis Paget
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 9:05 AM UTC
Bernie Sanders hatched a scheme
to rant an old progressive theme.
He left the greening mountain heights
to bellow forth for Social Rights
descending to our nation's valleys
milking the faithful at his rallies.
Mr. Sanders sold the farm,
sounded socialist alarm;
Trading professorial tweeds
for bloviating human needs.
He set the lefties all a-twitter
bartering the sweet for bitter.
He glared through academic glasses
at the doubtful working classes
wondering why they failed to note
just why and how they ought to vote.
Sanders patched up race-relations
fixing holes with reparations,
working up his magic wonder:
horsey voice of righteous thunder
till the clouds hung heavy and gray
portent of a darker day...
Warming up leftover Hope
he spared no change for hangman's rope,
sputtering on, he blew a gasket
redistributing our basket
scolding, bellowing, pumping fist
and waving fingers from the wrist
like politburo retro-chic
a tousled old white-headed freak.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
Its blinking at me,
And its listening.
Its pondering my friend,
yet we are mincemeat
in the presence of absence.
The hole of the whole
Devouring, and falling out on its own accord.
Let the hand go to work and put the mind to rest,
Quiet the outside and lose yourself to dying-
on a sheet of paper,
on your way there,
in a waste basket ,
in a blown gasket.....
Find a space between the void
and peer into the eyes of a world
a tad perturbed
when you look too long
and things move to fall
that would not have before.
...but who's to boast?
Encapsulated in capsules
to see where my cap goes
to see the eyes of souls.
to know to atoll.
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 10:20 PM UTC
The man who can't read came to visit today,
he sung along to each song that the radio played.
The track marks and scabs wove a story of bother;
of a life cut off short, my uncle, his father.
The man who can't read can fix anything:
a gasket, a hinge, a lever, a spring.
He pedals his bike and sweats up a storm,
no lights, no water, just part of his norm.
The man who can't read used to play in the yard;
we'd catch crickets under bricks, and skin knees til they scarred.
Garter snakes hid under the walnut tree
and we'd catch one in each hand and grandma would flee.
The man who can't read has been told that he's dumb,
that he smells like an ashtray and looks like a ***
He still owns a picture of when we were young,
when we lived in the house where the picture was hung.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 5:53 AM UTC
Let me begin, insecurities are disastrous for people, you may think yourself ugly when really you are perfect and beautiful. Don't believe the lies by what envious people say, don't let them slam you down. Don't let negativity engulf you, don't judge yourself, or hate yourself. If you don't like how you feel or how you look, you can work it out in the gym or in a counseling session. Treat your body as if it were a temple. Develop healthy habits instead impulsively bad habits. Sometimes the biggest supporter and your biggest opponent can be yourself. Its a constant battle with your mind, your heart and your emotions. Don't blow a gasket but don't keep it all in, you have to learn how to have self-control. You are beautifully and wonderfully made. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it. A healthy mind and heart creates a happy attitude. Accept that you can never be perfect, but that is what makes up who you are. The person who friends and family can look up too. The person who doesn't care what others think. Because now you know that you are exuberantly jaw dropping gorgeous.
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 4:21 PM UTC
"What do you want for breakfast?"
"Blueberry pancakes."
And she got out of bed,
tapped me on the neck with her lips,
a good love tap,
and walked out naked to the kitchen
her *** and quads just bouncing
and beautiful.
I could see her in the kitchen,
all of her,
and i rolled over to her side,
where her pillow was,
took a long drag
of her smell,
and just passed out.
She woke me up
and I dipped blueberries
and fluff into lakes of syrup
and we watched TV and laid together
for a while.
Just close to each other.
I worked on her car the whole day,
changed her oil,
plugged a blown gasket,
and came back in when the streetlights
were starting to flicker on
And that Saturday
I got to lay down with her the rest of the night
and we were realistically happy.
What I really think it was,
was that
our dreams,
when we allowed them to,
coincided
beautifully.
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 11:56 PM UTC
So MARY loved a little lamb—
Especially on her plate.
But watch out, Mary: too much lamb
Can make you overweight.
HUMPTY DUMPTY sat on the wall.
Learn from his mistake.
If you are not mindful, you
Could also fall and break.
A TISKET, a TASKET,
Forget about a basket.
Do what you are told
Or your folks will blow a gasket!
JACK SPRAT could eat no fat.
Too much fat could **** him.
But mounds of veggies on his plate
Certainly don't thrill him.
If MRS. SPRAT could eat no lean
And just the fatty parts,
Wasn’t her cholesterol level
Jumping off the charts?
MISTRESS MARY, quite contrary,
Brags about her garden,
Which, she adds, is quite unique.
**** Oops, beg your pardon.
Are silver bells and cockle shells
Much to brag about?
I guess they are more practical
When there is a drought.
JACK B. NIMBLE was pretty slick,
Although he was a nut.
Don’t play around with candlesticks,
Or you could burn your ****
EENY MEENY MINY MOE...
Invest your money and watch it grow.
It’s good to save and not to owe,
EENY MEENY MINY MOE...
GEORGIE PORGIE made the girls cry
Every time he kissed ‘em.
They didn’t like that chauvinist
And the way he dissed ‘em.
Did JACK AND JILL go up the hill
Really to get water?
What kind of H2O
Would make him swerve and totter?
If these days PETER put his wife
In a pumpkin shell,
He'd never hear the end of it;
Boy, she’d give him hell!
- by Bob B
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC
A red cloud
Blew a gasket
Through the wall
Hot steam
Cleansed furniture, floors
But the freeze outside
Made the windows
Constrict and shatter
And a red cloud was empty
Another is full
They drift
Through peaks
And disperse
To the ground
In pieces
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 5:26 PM UTC
By: David W. Clare
She phoned me up: as she lied: straight to my face!
Phoney baloney, rang through my swollen head, she's unfit for the human race...
Begged me to bring her a pint of ice cream; I fell back asleep had a frozen dream...
Then, my car alarm blew a gasket
Those **** wild hoodlums are at it again?
I fell down in the street chasing after a cheap bottle of ***** to sooth my broken down blues... her breathe sounded real bad!
I acquiesced, then wanted to see her naked in bed undressed... I was depressed at the thought, she looked hot until I threw back the blanket...
I knew I was being used as her chisel... skanky cheap broad!
I took a taxi to her uptown flat, what a ****** room 17, next to that old gas station that got robbed last summer...
I was so **** drunk, I rolled up the stairs and her shoes fell on my feet!
Then I knew there was no hope, I lay there like the drunken *******
(C) In perpetuity all rights reserved
(P) FilmNoirWorks
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 12:34 PM UTC
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who told the biggest lies of all
A tisket a tasket
He just flipped a gasket
Red Rover Red Rover
Let warheads come over
One, two skip to my Lou
Three, four, you’ll start a war
Five, six, you’re in a fix
Skip to my Lou, my darling.
Seven, eight, it’s just too late
Nine, ten, you'll never win
Skip to my Lou, my darling.
Here we go Lupti Lou
Here we go Lupti Lie
Here we go Lupti Lou
Why don’t you lay down and die
Ring around the Rosey
A pocket full of posers
Bashes, Crashes
The World falls down
Mary, Scary, quite contrary
How does your evil grow
With fire drill bells and armored shells
And dead bodies all in a row.
ljm
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
You can say that I'm a little out of touch
I fell down but I can't climb back up
None of my friends give a ****
I guess I'm **** out of luck.
If I'm not feeling blue I dont feel much
I know they'll tell me to **** it up
Moving on is just hard as ****
I'm tired of being down on my luck.
Its like holding in the clutch
I press the gas but just rev up
Going nowhere fast my motor is ******
I blew a gasket, yeah just my luck.
I hope I won't always need a crutch
I need motivation to just wake up
Get me a drink until I don't give a ****
I guess I've been making my own bad luck.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:27 AM UTC
when presidents blow a gasket
the world goes to hell in a basket
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
Walking in a creepy dark forest
feeling but nothing but weirdly sorest
Visions and reality totally hazy and confused
seeing teddy's drink tea without being excused
Seeing animals sit around and eat as humans at the table
Makes my mind feel more confused and unstable
Wondering around and come across owls getting married
judging what I'll see next I should be extremely worried!
I see a bright light reflecting white off a jacket
trying it on hoping this sure doesn't throw a gasket
Running away from the foolish foul bird creatures chasing me
My boots come off and out of nowhere I'm growing into a tree
My hands turn into branches and my feet into a tree trunk
surely this must be a dream or else I'm seriously drunk
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
WORDS OF A DYING POET_ Membis Godwin
I have traveled to all edges
I know the worlds entrance and exit
Where seas flow from and to
The real colour of the Ancient Rainbow
I hear the words of all creatures
And knows when a flower smiles
My black hairs have grown bard
It have with wisdom been painted
But, now am dying gently
My rear knowledge shutting calmly
All I've acquired will recieve shelter
By gasket,decay and grow a diamond flower
I wish I could be buried naked
My flesh aside my knowledge
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 6:27 AM UTC
Sending my kid down that hallway
clad only in his underpants and socks
wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever done
as a parent, but it was close.
He looked so small
as he walked away from us.
He was staring down at the IPad
and I was glad for the distraction it brought.
He walked willingly, if not a little blindly into the unknown.
The O.R. nurses led the way, chattering away to selective ears which
listened primarily to the beeps and boops of “Plants Vs. Zombies”
or some such nonsense.
We kissed his forehead and said we’d see him soon.
He muttered a goodbye and swiped his finger left to right
setting a trap for the next digital enemy.
We waited in a very comfortable, yet uncomfortable room;
with strangers and their concerns and cares thickening the oxygen
I was trying to breathe.
There was coffee and doughnuts, cereal and milk.
We ate breakfast on Styrofoam plates and out of paper cups;
we waited.
When it was done we were told how it all played out.
The surgeon spoke of it in the same way my mechanic
talks about replacing a head gasket,
only with about 1000% more confidence;
like it was literally no big deal at all.
***
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
Could have been moses in a basket
But it was a tiny syrian refugee who found no recipie washed apon the shore put in a casket with the hope he bore
No one blew a gasket
As they shunned them at bay
No justice for us
Who have no choice but to participate in the childish games mad men play
Kids in factories make toy guns for your sons so they'll grow up to fight a war for greedy men who will always want more
And we wave the red, white, and blue.
Don't tread on me. These colors dont run, they're tried and true. These colors don't run, they don't blend, the blood of the native American ran red, when the white pilgrim came, and then they took people with darker skin took them brought them from where they called home, skinned them of freedom and beat them black and blue never leaving them alone. These colors don't run. They bleed they're stained. Lady liberty greets all with her feet still chained, anchored by distain for her light does not put the night to shame, for the darkness is to great for the history and fate of the hate that our country creates but we remain indignant that the immigrants will destroy the reminants of the american dream. Wake up, things are not all as they seem, we're complacent within our placement at the top of the hierarchy but really we are at the bottom of a very complex conglomeration of an oligarchy
There is no way to rationalize with those who disguise corporate fascism as democracy. The hypocrisy and the lies.
Everything we do is for them to capitalize on
We are but used as simple pon.
But I hope a revolution might bring a new dawn.
We must unite to agree not to fight
To not let unruly hate and greed surpass love and need.
Then only then do I truly believe will we all be freed at last.

Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
I broke my toilet
And my narrative
Humor was profound like the war
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 4:21 PM UTC
"I'm Mr bright side
Glass is half full.
But my tank is half empty
Gasket just blew."
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
I have an unusual best friend
he’s my cat Ronnie
he is very smart for a cat
and he is incredibly funny
He has a way of telling me
when I’m being a total *****
like dumping water from his dish all over the floor
it just makes me blow a gasket
I love the way he lays on my neck
so his purring puts me to sleep
I love how he sits in the shower with me
he always looks so sweet
I love how he puts his nose on mine
as I’m trying to write a poem
and I love how he meows like crazy
whenever I come home
Ronnie is my best friend
he will sit with me for hours if I’m crying on the bathroom floor
He doesn’t beg for my food when I’m eating
and he can never leave me alone
He watches me as I do dishes
as if he’s watching something fascinating
he likes watching my coffee *** brew coffee
because of the sound it makes and everything
Ronnie and I have a bond
I have never had with another pet
I fell in love with him before he could open his eyes
and he was my cat when I didn’t have him yet
He is the one friend I can count on
I know he will never break my heart
I love my kitty cat Ronnie
he’s my reason to keep from falling apart
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC