"gibberish" poems
My baby girl
My baby girl,
She doesnt speak to me
But i know what she says
I know what her gibberish means
I know why her tantrums are
My baby girl
Beautiful as anything ive ever seen
Maybe more
Innocent pure unique
My baby girl is special
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC
Stricken by the absence of color,
and the absence of rainbows that once sung to me.
Nullified and numbed by the irrationality of my ego,
and my hatred for sanity.
These are punctured wounds by the hands of the stained glass,
as this shattered hourglass speaks gibberish to me.
I'll take all the blame,
it was all my fault anyways.
As if my world wasn't trippy enough,
the only thing standing in my way is you.
So let violence sing one last time...
Scream for me poetry.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
To the tune of Five For Fighting's "100 Years to Live"
From "Frogs For Fighting"
Kermit Sings:
I'm just a simple green Muppet,
Good old friends with Scooter and Fuzzy,
And I'm small and skinny,
A quiet frog that's on the roam.
Animal's clearing out the whole fridge,
There's a Muppet chef inside the kitchen,
Making gibberish sounds,
Boiling a goose or baking rolls.
Piggy I'm alright with you,
No other Muppet pig will do,
MRS. PIGGY-there's never a wish better than this,
When you've got a hundred Muppet Tears TO GIVE...
I'm searching stars at the moment,
Still the frog-I'm just in love with a pig,
Dream of a connection,
A constellation for a sign,
Count goes "AH AH AH" when counting,
Cookie Monster's nomming on the cookies,
Snuffleupagus sounds like he just might have a cold...
But Piggy I'm alright with you,
You've got much might-no one can kick **** quite like you...
But piggy I'm OK with you,
MRS. PIGGY-there's never a wish better than this,
When you've got a hundred Muppet Tears TO GIVE...
Through a small Muppet's eyes
Can tell you no lies,
Bunson's Lab-a surprise,
Madness, havoc explode,
Beaker's running to hide,
We're moving on...
I'm feeling light at the moment,
Small as can be-the sky-all I view,
And I'm just reeling,
High up in the clouds-a message in blue,
...Mrs. Piggy I'm alright with you,
You're black belt in Karate and Kung Fu,
Super Grover's on his way,
Every Muppet has their dog day...
Wooohooo-oohoohoo
Wooohooo-oohoohoo
Wooohooo-oohoohoo-oohoohoo
Piggy I'm alright with you,
There's no other Muppet pig like you,
MRS. PIGGY, there's never a wish-better than this...
When you've got a hundred Muppet Tears TO GIVE...
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 10:22 PM UTC
Faking Bad
In anticipation of my
Evaluation to be declared
Non Compos Mentos
I slept under a bridge
For three days
"Getting into character,"
But on the morning of
My intake interview
My hair fell perfectly,
I mean I looked like
A ******* rock star.
College girls on the bus
Were giving me their
Numbers and my skin,
Which I'd purposely sunburnt
And caked in the finest filth,
Glowed like an Australian
Chippendale dancer named Weegie
And even the female Assisstant D.A.
Who had busted me for vagrancy
Waved her ******* from
The third story building
Of the Courthouse.
No matter how much I
Tried to speak gibberish
Poetry and philosophical
Tracts spewed from my mouth.
Shuffling past the park
I beat eight
Grand Masters
At chess on move 1
Inadvertently I solved
The Phi Epsilom Theorem
By kicking stones
Into an algorythym.
When I arrived they didn't
Make me wait at all.
My caseworker giggled like
A schoolgirl while I told her
Each day was like an endless shift
In a Chinese fish- gutting
Sweatshop and every one of my fellow
Employees was motivationalist
Richard Simmons.
She ungirdled her enormous
**** and as they spilled
Like fishguts onto the desk
She began to howl
**** me, **** me, oh ****
Me right here in
Front of the open window
On State Street as everyone
Watches me ******* the strongest,
Healthiest, smartest, most popular,
Well-adjusted man in the world.
The rest of the examination was
Also a success.
But as I left the Mental HealthCenter
feeling marvelous
I accidentally bumped
An old woman with the door:
"Watch out you manic-depressive
Schizoid with Socially Avoidant
Features klutz."
-Thomas L. Vaultonburg
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
If a fish
Could make a wish
for what would
this fish wish ?
a wishing fish
you say, tosh tish
but if you were
a wishing fish
would you wish for
a new dish ?
or a knish ?
what would a fish
do with a dish ?
and how would he
eat a knish ?
but if you knew
a wishing fish
exactly what
would this fish wish?
If you saw
a little bunny
on a tree stump
counting money
would you think
that it was funny
if he used it
to buy honey
to eat outside
while it was sunny
Just where would
that little bunny
get a bag full
of such money
To me that just seems
rather funny
If you saw
a blue canoe
being paddled by
a kangaroo
wearing shoes
size sixty two
Tell me just
what would you do
if there beside
that kangaroo
sat a rather large
and old gnu
I think I would
call the zoo
but, tell me
what it is you'd do
A bunny, fish
and kangaroo
were all out walking
two by two
they were followed
by a large gnu
I think this rather strange
don't you?
I don't know just
what I would do
If I saw walking
two by two
A bunny, fish
and kangaroo
in fact i do not
have a clue
but I know the fish's wish
don't you?
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
*
I chant your name in frenzy
Like a SUFI twirling round and round
LOVE, LOVE, BELOVED, BELOVED
Your name is like GOD
Ram, Allah, Buddha, Jesus
If you want to join me
In the life of LOVE
Chant with me
LOVE, LOVE.
BELOVED, BELOVED...
I carry sweets for my BELOVED
Wearing a long "LOVE robe"
Sing your praise
Jumping, dancing on the streets
With zest I meet passerby
You - my BELOVED
You are my gardener
I am your seed
I am your bud
I am your flower
I am your tree
I am the forest you walk into
In your LOVE
I utter gibberish
But only you understand it
And clap at my words with smile
I know, you'll protect me
At every step of life
Why I should take stress
Why I should be tense
Why should I worry
what world will say about me
I'm in LOVE
I'm with YOU in my being
In my thoughts, my words, my actions
I surrender to you
And leave it to you to protect me
You created me
As a LOVER
You are my maker
You are my GOD
I chant your name
With every breathe
I chant your name in frenzy
Like a SUFI twirling round and round
LOVE, LOVE, BELOVED, BELOVED
Your name is like GOD
Ram, Allah, Buddha, Jesus
If you want to join me
In the life of LOVE
Chant with me
LOVE, LOVE.
BELOVED, BELOVED...
When I pass by streets
I utter YOUR praise
I sing songs for YOU
Seeing me, people say:
"**Look - here she comes
This mad woman...**"
But without care,
I sing your LOVE
Intoxicated in your LOVE
I roll in the mud & sand
And cover my body with your dirt
In your LOVE
I have lost my gender too
I know, I've become YOU
I chant your name in frenzy
A SUFI twirling round and round
LOVE, LOVE, BELOVED, BELOVED
Your name is like GOD
Ram, Allah, Buddha, Jesus
Now I have give you
The strings of my life
In your hand
You made me fearless kid in LOVE
I know you'll protect me
I'm your kid in your LOVE
The suffering and pain
That GOD has given
Only my BELOVED will end my pain
I chant your name in frenzy
Like a SUFI twirling round and round
LOVE, LOVE, BELOVED, BELOVED
Your name is like GOD
Ram, Allah, Buddha, Jesus
If you want to join me
In the life of LOVE
Chant with me
LOVE, LOVE.
BELOVED, BELOVED...
People, Seeing my LOVE
Some places
They threw stone at me
Some showered flowers at me
But no one is willing
To give place in their heart
They are just guiding me
To my BELOVED's abode
This girl - a SUFI
Is roaming, walking
A wanderlust
Like dust storm
Like blizzard rain
Chanting your name
LOVE, LOVE.
BELOVED, BELOVED...
If you want to join me
In the life of LOVE
Chant with me
LOVE, LOVE.
BELOVED, BELOVED...
*
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC
Artificial abracadabra
Gibberish grammar
Intriguing illusions
Confused crowds
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
a love poem, of new & old,
why I am the summer-man!^
summer is winding down,
sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags,
marked and named by hue, the where and the when,
so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help,
when the good things those good blues aroused,
poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all,
quite the opposite, these cold blues
may help, to recall why it was worth breathing
summer is winding down,
so am I, the synchrony no accident, time,
the Pharmacy kitchen calendar
claiming another victim, willing or not,
those cars and the blue eyed models,
are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken,
not finger scribed, for the keyboard a
jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical
of confusion hellish and
my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending
their little children, beloved concubines of my heart
the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo,
tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much;
the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight,
tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like
replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet
which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby,
tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy
try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she
occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair,
making rhymes with her next-next generational descendants,
faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain;
zingo, bingo, lingo
tango, ginkgo, jingo,
** ** oh no, oh no!
ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly,
when he is not a grumpy,
old man all fall down!
which she acts out with giggles galore,
adding a teacup embellishment,
a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping,
the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny,
but time to me *** and take a needed morning *****
no poppy! no poppy! no poppy!
no nap, no *** no *****
thinking the call out is for her,
stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes
I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out,
foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her,
get wheeled away crinkled and crackling,
*zingo, bingo, lingo
tango, ginkgo, jingo
** ** oh no, oh no!
ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly,
when he is not a grumpy,
old man all fall down!*
a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC
Everyone has a talent.
Whether it be practical or not,
Pleasing or not.
Everyone has a talent.
And sometimes that talent is just
Not good.
A talent for being impeccably rude,
A talent for ******* up relationships,
A talent for making people hate you,
A talent for spitting out gibberish when someone asks, "Why are you sad?"
Everyone has a talent.
But when people look inside themselves,
And see the talents they never wanted,
They fake another.
They learn to carry a note,
Play an instrument,
Draw a picture,
Write a poem.
But inside they know,
We're not good.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
It’s the morning after the last heart session
Eyes open but brain still crackling with static and white noise
When I try it again
Hoping to get pen to paper
Before consciousness can recover sufficiently to intervene
And proffer pretty syntax to the poem
Hold the mind blank
And stack the words in rows of green growth
Like garden beds
That only need time and attention to bear fruit
Let truth come from some other place
Than reason or left brain
Or the extensive vocabulary
Meticulously indexed in the cranial cavity
Somewhere near the brain stem
Or maybe in the DNA
As C, T, G, and A
Storing data like binary only twice as complex
The recall mechanism operating in the darkness of our comprehension
Apprehension of its failure threatening to leave the poem unfinished
Unillustrated
Uncalibrated
Un-fact checked
Like that matters somehow
Like the facts are important in art
Like the right brain has no sense of propriety
Just as surely as the heart tells lies in gibberish
A chattering maelstrom of syllables in a cyclonic vacuum
And yet somehow the heart speaks with perfect clarity
Uncluttered rhythm
Timing and flow
So you know there is more going on here than we fully understand
Lend a hand to help decipher the intentions of a part of yourself wayward from the rest of you
Leading to a collapse of the ego
And a blurring of the lines between you and I
Turning discrete data into continuous
On the fly
On the run
Under sun and and moon and sky
Until the day that even death fails to be discrete
Or even an event any more important than a fire
Converting energy from one form to another
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 7:42 PM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
my turtle doves are pondering the broth of my head space.
tingling.
they gibberish the nest and lay eggs of dragons that still believe in dragons.
they wish for thick lightning in the lustrous void. they beak the shell of no made thing.
the Eternal Hum.
the one Always that had Never Begun.
Only Ever, Ever Been.
and That's It's
Name.
my turtle doves are robbing the bog of it's undead wyrms. they swoop in the morning.
down down down
to the gamma ray golf course lawns
of our suburban necrophilia. the one with the empty dreams in their peanut butter stars.
the one
with the eggshell Camary Toyotas and the delinquent epiphanies.
n' more ice cream than Ben n' Gerry's Wet Dream of Selling
More ******* ice cream
than You
can Imagine.
Plus One.
my turtle doves are holding me hostage. in the dizzy breach. of god's contract.
a damp shade of misspent youth. the Old Way.
seasoned by the Eons
and the swollen Love of the First Love.
engorged in the Kingdom of Desire
like a fat mosquito. Sated on Cyclopian forearms.
and the shoulders of Giants
on a small blue world
in your mouth.
just sayin'.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
The beak-
the walk-
chicken out
with all the gibberish.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
"if it pleases my Lord? Yes it pleases thee"
made famous by the English
formal gibberish saying nothing
well phrased for max words zero knowledge
this is ingrained in there offspring
Jackal smile and fancy words
the goose that could lay no egg
alas injustice is a good egg
penny wise pound foolish
the grandest motto ever
how proud can you feel, wallowing in mud and smiling
being led by the noise, following bread crumbs
who is the real servant and who is the master?
i know you have lost control
you serve the master you choose, thought it
would have been an envy apparent
you wee outsmarted, not outgunned
but know this my master owns it all
creator of all
master of all
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
It just takes a heartbeat.
You are brought into this world
Shaking and crying
Confused and lost
Awake and aware
Unable to speak
Barely breathing
Eyes wide with innocence
Pure as sunlight
Screaming from the pain
And your mother
Collapsed in agony
Suddenly detached
From her first born
Relieved yet bitter
Nostalgic and anxious
Her precious child
With nothing more
Than a pulse,
A heartbeat,
And wide eyes
Revealing the universe
With every blink
And you grew up so fast
Too fast, she claims
As you watch the home movies together
Over popcorn
And cigarettes
And the pixels expose
How you waddled through the weeds
Speaking in tongues
And gibberish
And you fell down
But you never cried
You look over
And your mother is passed out
On the old tattered couch
Slowly, mechanically, you rise
And sneak out the front door
Delicately and deviously
Alone and brave
Unaware that the youth
Are far from invincible
Your pal Trevor meets you
A block down
Blasting that punk rock ****
Because your mother hates it
And secretly, so do you
And in a heartbeat
You're in his front seat
Screaming about the world
And how ******
It all is
Trev smiles sadistically
Passing you a ****
Of something sweet
To take all your troubles away
And suddenly
You're flying
Down the highway
With your arm out the window
A wing spread
Your heart bursts
You grow up so fast
And suddenly
You don't hate the world at all
But it's far too late
You look over
And Trevor is passed out
In his old, beat up Chevy
Gracefully, rapidly, you rise
And ascend up to the pearly gates
Tragically and disturbingly
Alone and afraid
Suddenly aware that the youth
Are far from invincible
And your mother gets the call
Four in the morning
Distraught and confused
Suddenly the words pieced together
And she lost her baby
To this cruel, ****** up place.
She screams.
And sobs.
You were taken from this world
Shaking and crying
Confused and lost
Awake and aware
Unable to speak
Barely breathing
Eyes wide with innocence
Pure as sunlight
Screaming from the pain
It just takes a heartbeat.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
I’m swimming deep inside my insecurities,
And I’m blaming myself over and over!
I smile at the jokes that were thrown at me,
But inside my room I’m drowning by my own negative thoughts!
I am but a walking disaster,
I write gibberish that contain words full of error,
I am only a bleeding girl living to survive,
I cannot look at people without hatred and jealousy,
I cannot breathe without thinking about the past,
The future is full of chills,
I just want to escape!
I just want to escape!
I want to disappear, so I won’t hear the voices!
I make mistakes, and I cannot run away,
I fall in love, but I cannot come to love myself.
I’m talentless, I do not have something I can be proud of.
I’m raining inside,
And no one is my umbrella.
I’m a walking disaster,
Living in this town of misery,
My wrist is soar waiting to be cut,
My eyes are shadows with tears,
Their voices are a nightmare, a nightmare,
Oh, oh,
Who would stand a walking disaster like me?
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
is what i wear.
it is a loreal campaign offering the art of concealment
wrinkles are for unironed clothes and old folk homes
all creation and destruction spun from tomb
the glow emanating from a woman's womb
this spf
isn't always available for the wear
its not some cap we can slip on our hair
or the glasses we use to hide the despair
for our pimples have awoken from
their nightly slumber
allowing the light to
illuminate their number
best we take it all in
the midnight pukes
and
the morning glow
lets carry on with our dancing dynamo
all starry eyed and audacious
all messy and pugnacious
with our lips soaked in red
shouting words of poetic gibberish
to statuesque lovers
who spin in and out of the revolving door
as we sing our tune under helmets
under bleeding stars
and wind up with tattooed legs and arms
for there is a radiant rose in your brain
permanently blooming
against the ticking of time
as you stand in alliance
with lust and love alike
when they conveniently misplaced their pain
at the local bookstore
i can't imagine they'll go looking for it.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
****** into my sofa,
The infinite space of it.
The faces of my friends are melting off,
Like heated wax running down a candle stick.
I loaded the universe into a gun,
And I shot myself in the head.
I can not tell if I am breathing.
Am I alive or am I dead?
I’m strapped to the outside of a rocket ship with nothing in the way.
I’m taking off, and I just keep going. Reaching a height higher than heaven.
There’s nothing to orient myself. No time. No space. No self. Nothing but darkness stretching out all around me.
A roar of a million voices are screaming over each other, they’re resonating in my head.
I’ve come into orbit. Everything is beginning to crystalize.
Surrounding me are complex geometrical patterns of love and understanding.
Gibberish wall textures are whispering messages through their feelings.
This is all too much to take in,
It is like the universe orgasmed into my eye.
I just want to go home,
I think I am going to die.
A sense of calm echoes through me,
Probably brought upon by the faces of my long lost family.
They have so much dimension to them,
So beautiful, light and shimmering.
Looking like something out of religious doctrine,
They came out from the open.
Released me into my primal light laser body,
Everybody has been laughing at the joke never spoke.
And now that I get it,
It is infinitely funny.
It is like the sand man blew his sand,
Taking me on a train to dream land.
They are showing me everything,
I can not even begin to understand.
How am I supposed to understand infinity,
When I can barely understand a single moment.
I see God in a head of lettuce.
I feel the earth's rotation,
As I spin around the sun.
God handed me the universe loaded into a revolver,
And fired me into a flashing rainbow shower.
Friday's smoke opera has rendered me dumb.
Bathing in a melting rainbow,
The cosmos is dripping down my skin.
Infinity is stretching out,
And withdrawing within.
I become the colour,
And the colour becomes me.
I am in everything,
And everything is in me.
Coming out of the woodsmen's cloud,
I hear a child screaming out.
I didn't know what it was then,
But now I know what it is about.
The trees are no longer silhouettes,
My destination is not my goal.
I am in the middle,
Wherever I go.
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 5:45 PM UTC
To write a poem properly
That is my dream
But I can't even
Remove my mask
I don't even dare
To think quietly
All my poetry is failure
Spies that pretend
To be activists
A violent movement
A laceration
That bleeds black bile
Violence circle my mind
Like vultures around corpses
The sky is touched
By the redness of my cheeks
And I end up crying
Until night comes
What remains of my poems
Are dead organs
Words that fail at being words
Mouthful gibberish
What's left of my tears?
Acid rain
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 4:32 AM UTC
The cauldron bubbles and sputters and pops.
Odors from a foul witches' brew
Fill the mansion. It's called the Nightmare
On Pennsylvania Avenue.
A ghoulish warlock babbles gibberish,
Spreading deceit, anger, and fear.
He summons his lackey ghouls to his chamber.
They bow to the ghastly profiteer.
Their incantations reverberate
Through the rooms and down the halls.
The din stifles the voices of reason
And bounces off the windows and walls.
Witches assisting the grisly assembly
Grovel and spew nonsensical chatter,
While friendly ghosts, horrified,
Grab all their belongings and scatter.
The leading warlock raises his staff
To silence all the ear-piercing shrieking.
"Our work here has barely begun,"
He shouts, "in a manner of speaking.
"We have a lot more poison to spread
To circulate anxiety and doubt.
All we must do is stir the ***
To give them something to worry about.
"Fan the flames of division and discord.
My techniques are tried and true.
Keep 'em guessing; then you've got 'em.
And then you cater to the chosen few.
"We have more rivers to poison,
Coastlines to alter, lands to sell,
Coffers to fill, coffers to rob,
And voices to quiet. Welcome to hell!"
The glowering sycophants dance and cheer--
Thirsty for blood, eyes agleam.
"Dishonesty is the best
Policy," they fervently scream.
Oh, it's a frightening Halloween night
When one's worst nightmare comes true:
The gruesome, macabre, spine-chilling Nightmare
On Pennsylvania Avenue.
-by Bob B (10-31-18)
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 9:53 AM UTC
At one time transfixed in front of the t.v. watching
Programs strewn trash the river mouth spewing
Shows and shows as waves on the sand breaking
Talk gibberish talks water under a bridge rushing
Unintelligible words rain on a roof pitter pattering
Now we're glued to a contraption called internet
Blasting air ways information ideas faster than jet
Good bad evil intertwining jungles without outlet
Connecting to connect to lives or lives haven't met
Inexhaustible possibilities daily sunrise to sunset
Better be a wanderer by nature gladly enveloping
Explore new world or a quiet place contemplating
What makes us what we are therefore we're doing
Cyber corrupts old fashioned family ties reflecting
May inflict affection attentively attending nothing
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 8:34 PM UTC
Wise words implanted in human young,
"Behave yourselves, you're young!
No need for you to rebel,
Follow the rules we tell,
But who listens at any age?
Same as in Sumerian days!
"You young have no respect,
Boys look like girls, what the heck!
Your music is total trash,
Your verse is gibberish, ash,
Yes, 4000 years of rebels,
Who follow the rules we tell?
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 9:18 PM UTC
The Commercial says:
Collect the whole set!
Buy Tommy Toddler™! –Now says 6 gibberish phrases!
Buy Hannah Housewife™! –Laundry basket and stove included!
Buy Stanley Stepdad™! –Comes with realistic child abusing action!
Buy Cole, the College Student™! –Life-like *** and beer ***** scent!
It says: Buy the whole family.
Batteries not rechargeable, but included. Residing inside.
No assembly required unless buying Ralph the Retired™ – in which case,
Go to the hospital and inquire, am I covered ?
Have I expired ?
At the store I’d, see them all sorted, and sordid, clumped in little bins. Together.
Sort of. See,
Lawyers, and scientists, and authors were all in higher priced bins.
I felt shorted.
A cheap skate like me couldn’t afford it, wait-
there are the janitors, soldiers, and waitresses, each only a quarter.
Somewhere in Taiwan, thin children wont to wanting,
Are making Model Americans.
Patching together assembly-line-lives, no breaks inbetween,
Workers named High School, College, and Career sew mini seams.
So many seem, to delight in dreaming the American Dream,
To leave earthly bodies and become pristine; little dolls.
Toys colored C.R.E.A.M.
“…and the home of the brave!” ?
maybe, home of the depraved.
Home of the pre-made, pre-packaged, and
Enslaved.
Displayed, in plastic tombs engraved. With phrases like:
Save! 50% off!
or perhaps it’s 50 stars off.
50 stars that are missin.
Cuz Old Glory sure looks like a **** question mark ( ?)
End transmission.
Restart television with Remote Control.
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 3:00 PM UTC