"goofy" poems
seductive decay
on summer days we
rode down the river in our ripe age,
careless if the rapids swept us
into their deadly dustpans,
the black hole of water,
the possibility aroused us,
perhaps because it seemed so far away.
and next to the river,
the appalachian townsfolk wandered the deep grass, they
gathered here to see the circling folding-tables,
buy the spread of goods,
the goods are masks.
the masks are of old folks’ faces,
cartoon-like, goofy comic characters in the funny pages.
masks of rubbered wrinkles, permanent,
bulging eyes, whiskered ears that never stop growing, with
an elastic band, you can become an elder.
old age attracts the crowds,
i have a fascination with it myself,
picturing all the stories that have
taken elders to the present,
it’s hard to fake being wise
when you’re forced to think for years.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
I remember you
from your beautiful smile
your cinnamon scented hair
your contagious laughter
your nail-biting addiction
your pointless insecurities
to our silly inside jokes
our dumb little fights
our peculiar bets
our goofy text messages
through tears and smiles
you were the only one who understood
my unspoken words
my concealed pain
my unexpressed happiness
my puzzled feelings
counting your days
we recalled our mischievous memories
when we danced in the rain
when we rang doorbells and ran away
when we pranked the gullible ones
when we stole Ikea pencils
when we fangirled over stunning guys
when we were together
everything turn into excitements
moments with you
I remember them all, Grace
it was a week before December twenty-fifth
when the monstrous cells stopped your heart
a glimpse of smile
appeared upon your face
as you're being taken
far away from us
skin turned pale
body stiffened
tears flooded my sight
there were wailing across the room
time flies like a bullet train without you
it's a rainy day today
you've always loved rainy days
sinking my knees in the dew-wet grass
raindrops whisper in my ears
as I brush off the gray snow from your stone
I still remember you, Grace
I still do
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 5:27 AM UTC
It’s just the scale in me.
I’m a pure blood libra,
I’m not blind
I can see,
Exactly what’s going on around me.
Fierce indeed.
Money, clothes, wealth
I greed.
Empty souls,
And unhealed wounds,
I feed.
I’m kind,
Yes.
I’m goofy and bless.
I pick up anyone
Mess,
And put my enemies
To rest.
I am a libra.
I am the best
Marci H.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:52 AM UTC
I remember our first date vividly you had your lustrous black dress on that displayed all your curves supermodel figure, shoe game was serious fashion killer had your hair in them short curls smelled like coconuts eyes were sparkling reflecting the moonlight with that red lipstick you were so gorgeous
GOD'S canvas painted in that melanin you could have ruled the world evident you a Queen in my eyes a future bride, I was more nervous than you when we shared our first kiss floating butterflies got me feeling like a little kid, you stuck in my head like a lullaby
Girl what's not love about you got me feeling like Dwele, you such a down the earth chick sophisticated not simple minded girl you stay educted, you into them old school tunes sung you that old Jays hit you're darlin darlin baby, you everything I hoped for in a woman can't be compared to no hoes you a strong Queen with goals, I love the way you get goofy when you start laugh but that's only when you comfortable, or when your eyebrows twitch when you get ****** I study your mannerisms, ain't nobody eles I love this deep you make me complete other girls just can't compete
Girl U got me
Girl U got me
Girl U got me
Girl U got me (voice fades)
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
Well I wrote a silly book
And filled it with solemn words.
And put the cantos in.
But wrote them in reverse.
There was a haiku,
I put on some page.
But instead of seven syllables.
I thought it was the seventh page.
Picture poetry is fun
But I couldn't paint, only write.
I put a poem in,
But it's hard to understand,
Cause when I thought I wrote it,
I wrote on my hand.
Its a goofy book of things,
That you never knew could be.
Why don't you come and see
This goofy book of things,
That You never thought should be.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 12:36 AM UTC
Straight out of prison
Wondering what I've been missing
Right out of the gates I stuck out my thumb
A van load of hippies
All from Mississippi
Stoped and asked, hey dude...what's going on
I'm here for adventure
Well hop in then Mister
Adventure is what we're all about
Now where we're all going
There's no way of knowing
A van of hippies and parolee freshly let out
We ended up in Disney
Me and all of the hippies
Where we had caboodles of fun
We met Mickey and he saw it
When I lifted his wallet
Now we're in the Magic Kingdom all on the run
We split in different directions
To throw off detection
It's A Small World is where I made my mistake
With that song stuck in my head
It's a fate worse than death
Prison now sounds like a wonderful place
We rendezvoused in
The Pirate's Of The Caribbean
Where soon after, in came the law
We all jumped from our boats
Splashing around in the moat
And had ourselves a good old fashioned pirate brawl
We soon made our escape
Out of exit door 88
Finding ourselves in Frontier Land at night
Where in the middle of the street
Were Mickey, Donald, and Goofy
All with guns strapped to their sides
We ran into a shop
And bought guns on the spot
All with Mickey's money...he's a mouse of a man
Mickey squeeks we're going to ruff you up
As Goofy holds up the cuffs
And Donald says something we can't understand
We had a shoot out
With cap guns no doubt
After all Disney runs a safe place
Ran out of caps in our guns
Which stopped our lives on the run
The wrath of Mickey we all now would face
After justice's hammer
I'm now back in the slammer
This time I made my own prison bed
Now I cry every day
What more can I say
With It's A Small World still stuck in my head
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 8:02 AM UTC
There's a million ways to love a soul.
And I'm done holding back, just so you know.
Because I love so many people in this day to day life.
I can't hold it back, just to be someone's wife.
There's the way I love you.
I want to have our home.
I want to go on adventures.
Never leave you alone.
Make silly faces.
Caress your hair.
Make goofy videos.
Cuddle our pets.
Maybe a baby...
Fancy that.
There's the way I love you.
Always messages a few a times a year.
Happy birthday. Merry Christmas.
How are you my dear?
How is the wife? How are the babies?
I found your letter.
Man, we were crazy.
There's the way I love you.
You taught me so much.
A better way to think.
A better way to touch.
How important it is to value myself.
And how to let go.
That's why I love you so.
And there's the way I love you.
The unapologetic ways.
In which you take my hand
But make everyone the same.
The way you say,
"I just want to see you"
And even though it's temporary,
You make time seem brand new.
There are too many ways to love a person.
How you can be so sure what is real?
Which one is forever?
Which one would should we feel?
But I wouldn't be me, with out all of this painful action.
I want a world that's not afraid to love.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 1:52 AM UTC
Gates give galloping giraffes
gin gum
gifted ghost
Goofy gambles ginger beer
grapple games get goods
Gooses groins getcha
group gathering greatness
goat got gale
Grail
Apr 16, 2010
Apr 16, 2010 at 4:30 PM UTC
To the boy I fell in love with,
When I came up with the idea to write you this I didn't realize how hard it could be to begin, as I have so many thoughts and as we both know I'm not very organized in my thinking.
I guess I should probably start with the obvious, I miss you. If I didn't I wouldn't keep writing about you like this. I miss stupid little things, like goofy overtired conversations and the way sitting too close made my arms itch if I was wearing short sleeves. I even miss the things I often hated like League of Legends, and you screaming at your friend when I was trying to sleep, and the way your room was always too warm to actually be comfortable.
I guess the second thing would probably be that I'm sorry... For everything. I'm sorry I hurt you and that I never realized how hard it was on you to constantly have to worry about me. I'm sorry I never left my comfort zone enough to keep you interested, and most importantly I'm sorry I was never able to find a way to convince you not to go.
And the third would be thank you. You showed me what it is like to feel love and loss and everything in between. You made me finally feel happy enough to want to live my life to the fullest. You showed me parts of myself I didn't even know existed. You changed my life for the better and even though you are gone and moving on from me, I will always be grateful that we crossed paths.
To my first love,
I hope that you are doing okay. I know you've had some ups and downs in the past few months, and please remember that I am just a phone call away and always will be. I know its really hard for you to ask for help, but if you ever just want someone to sit with you in silence, or take out as a distraction or anything else please don't hesitate to call on me because I won't hesitate to come.
I also hope you are eating, watching you shrink before my eyes kind of says otherwise, but still I hope you are staying healthy(ish).
Equally importantly, I hope you are happy, and I mean truly happy in your life. I hope you fall in love with someone who deserves the love you are capable of giving, love that not even I was worthy of receiving.
To the boy my family also ended up falling in love with,
My mom still asks about you. She still tells me "I always liked that boy, and I know you don't go backwards but he may be worthy of an exception to the rule." That is pretty much her way of telling me she misses you.
To the boy I thought I could replace,
I couldn't.
To the boy I wish I could move past,
I can't.
To the boy who has moved past me,
I'm happy for you, I wish you the best, and I'm glad we are at the very least friends still.
So, to the boy I fell in love with,
Know that despite my best efforts I never fell back out of love with you, and am starting to doubt that I ever truly will.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
I am a mother
to four beautiful children
I always put them first
I am not my disease
I am hardworking
One job at a time just isn’t enough
I let nothing slow me down
I am not my disease
I am goofy
I like attention
and I do what it takes to get it
I am not my disease
I am high-spirited
I walk with my family and friends by my side
who love me because,
I am not my disease
I am faithful
With God’s love I will never be powerless
He alone is my reassurance that
I am not my disease
I am strong
I will never lose sight of who I am
I may have this disease but,
I am not my disease
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 12:33 PM UTC
Like some goofy lisp.
Like left over from Surrey to Essex.
Lycan, Omish, with some Roudy Rawdy Piper.
Like a WWE event, no ropes in the ring and a whole
bunch of cheerios.
It sounded like chweer wee ohs.
I got England to laugh out loud.
We were all laying on the floor hoping
fuhat bassthard would gooh on a diet.
Like Van Gogh and his buddy whats his...
knuck knuck. Painting pictures of Marshall
Islanders for a vote or veto. Paul Goin and Vincent
Van Gogh sharing a lisp.
Sthounds like..... Ah gawd!
Shut up you sobbing limp noodle.
Try writing something we all can laugh at.
Humor me Socrates with Albert Einstein.
E equals MC squared.
One part energy, a mass constantly squared.
Cheerio old chaps.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
Late night conversations about sweet nothings,
I feel as though he is just -something,
Something so goofy and unique,
I smile from ear to ear as he speaks,
I stay up almost the entire night and day,
It would be easier if he were to be next to me and stay,
He says we practically read each others' minds -telepathy,
I can go on and on about his sympathy,
We make funny faces all the time,
He is what I call -a dime,
Not a dime's worth nor it's size,
It's quirkiness and shine,
And to end this poem is hard - just in a few lines,
His eyes and smile fill the room with light,
There is not one thing I regret from these,
-These sleepless nights.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
Sitting alone under a darkened sky
Oft leads to meandering thoughts
Of things both blithely blissful
And bitterly biting.
Like the time we held hands
On a road trip across the country
That ended in sour silence
And restrained rhetorical retorts.
Like the time we warmly watched
The sun set over an orange ocean,
Only to go home feeling colder
Than the biting breeze that rose with dusk.
Like the time I said "I love you"
To your goofy grinning face
And in the same breath, "Goodbye"
To your vanishing visage.
Two sides of the same coin--
That's just life.
I guess this is why it's called
Bittersweet.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
Look, you have now broken your back bone
Because of climbing tall trees and high balconies
To spy on your wife as she roves the village,
You climbed a Tall baobab tree up to the apex
To play sentry and spy on your wife
When she went down the river to fetch some water
For you to bathe and wash your jealousy body
And when she met her brother-in –law;
The man from another village across the river
Who greeted her with a prolonged hug
Embracing your wife in his strong arms
They way a giant can do to a beauty model,
Feat of goofy jealous gripped you
And you forgot that you were perching in high danger
At the top of the baobab tree, you left yourself unsupported
As all selfish men can in feats of irrationality
Coming down like a sack of wet sand
Falling in a thud, breaking your poor backbone!
Dude; be warned from spying on your wife.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
There's something about that itch
that you can't itch enough.
I feel like when I put on my
Adidas or Nike ankle socks
they just don't do the trick.
My Hanes crew length
feel so comfy on my itchy legs.
They keep my legs warm
when I spend eight hours
in the cold box stocking drink.
However when I wear those
high socks with shorts people stare.
I guess it looks goofy
with my pale skin
that people have to double take.
I bet they ask questions like
"Is that his leg or is he wearing socks?"
I smile though when they stare
because it makes feel noticed
and it reassures me that I'm here.
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 10:38 PM UTC
You tried to learn everything you could.
About life, love, religion. The whole deal.
You were convinced that you would be the one to go to if there was ever an apocalypse.
You laughed things off, but you always had a heavy heart.
And when you shared your soul, It was beautiful.
You used to call me in the middle of the night
Pretending to be an old black man from Louisiana
Keeping me up for hours laughing.
I ALWAYS found it creepy to wake up on the couch to you spooning me.
And whenever you just randomly licked me across the face,
I was truly disgusted.
I've never seen someone break a bone before,
But you took it like a champ. And still caught the ball.
Washing dishes.
Late night bike rides.
(You riding Mom's bike, honking that **** horn at EVERYONE)
Sunglass and antique shopping.
Ancient Ways.
Bonfires.
Oreo races.
Sushi trips.
Labyrinth hunting.
Our obsession with graffiti.
And SO much more.
We had such a rocky start.
And we drove eachother crazy.
But you made me feel special.
Important.
You saw things in me that no one, including myself, would've ever noticed.
I will be forever thankful to have gotten the chance
To see what a beautiful person you truly were.
You grew to be more than my friend.
You were my brother.
I Loved you more than you'll ever know.
This stupid poem doesn't do justice to explain just how much you meant to our whole family.
You were a part of it, whether you wanted to be or not.
That's where you ended up,
And I've never been so happy to have a *** sleeping on our couch.
You were one weird ******* kid. But man, I sure loved you♥
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 12:14 PM UTC
1997, 13 AUGUST, THURSDAY
You were laid in your mother’s arms,
All soft black hair and little eyes,
You took your first cry.
2014, 13 AUGUST, WEDNESDAY
Today’s your birthday,
The austere sun is burning,
Like an orange Cyclops-eye.
It’s as if Mother Nature knew
That today’s a special day.
Let the rapture abound and
Your day shall be decked with
Gold and
You shall find bliss in your
Dreams.
Orange is your colour,
Isn’t it?
Was your first shirt orange?
Fire is orange,
And you have fire inside you.
You are the fiery one who’s
Man enough to just be
Silly,
Instead of
Tough.
Your goofy stories
Never fail to tickle our funny bones.
Your adorable doodles
Capture the hearts of all.
But most importantly,
Your endearing laugh
Will stay forever etched in the mind.
Even though I’ve only known you for
114 days,
I regard you as
One of my greatest friends.
Just remember that when you’re feeling down,
Or ‘cb what is there nice in me sia’,
Look a little longer
Stare a little harder into yourself
And you’ll see,
There are some nice things
That you never noticed about yourself.
So in the noblest way,
I wish happy birthday to the one,
Who makes me laugh,
Because he can.
Hope all your wishes come true,
And your birthday cake is as sweet as you.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
Toned, muscular, powerful beasts.
This is the way the world chooses to see.
Outraged, aggression, and dangerous too.
Scared one day, they might bite you.
Not even a second, by the looks, instant fear.
This so called 'reputation' makes us tear.
Continue to breed,
Continue to Buy.
Opt. to put them on a chain so tight.
Opt. to make them fight.
Judging them, at just first sight.
Not bad dogs, just bad owners.
When will the world see the light?
Toned, masculine, powerful features.
Beautiful and intelligent creatures.
Ever so loving, ever so loyal.
So goofy, and eager to please.
Eager to love, Eager for affection.
This is the way the world should see.
A family dog, a protector.
A comedian in ways.
A runway model with natural beauty.
A visitor, for those in pain and lonely.
A caregiver for rehabilitation.
A simple, lasting smile,
A kind that sparks and stays for awhile.
A partner against crime.
A team mate whose there all the time.
A worker, a player to love you at best.
A companion beyond special.
A dog, beyond the rest.
A love, in life, with whatever is next.
A best friend, to say the least.
A Staffies not A beast.
Staffies are the best.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC
When you're surrounded by hundreds of people but no one notices you. No one chooses to hear you. Everyone except from him. Him with the goofy big smile from one ear to another. He sees what no one else sees. You. He sees when you look alone surrounded by people. He sees you when you have that distant look in your eyes, like you aren't present. But when you're with him everything changes. You're there, you're not alone.
You're in love.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC
I'm nervous.
Like really nervous.
Like shaking like a blender full of gravel nervous.
Like atheist in a foxhole nervous.
Why am I so nervous?
Because I have a nagging thought that soon I might just be the last-next-best-thing that ever happened to you,
Replaced by another, better next-best-thing that blows me out of the water.
Because you might decide I don't have what you really REALLY want.
Because at the end of the day, I'm still convinced that your attraction to me is the product of an elaborate facade.
So yeah. I'm nervous.
Like sweating fifty caliber bullets nervous.
Like ******** cinderblocks nervous.
Like chattering teeth cold sweats nervous.
Like dying young nervous.
Like being forgotten nervous.
And it makes me nervous that you put me on a pedestal
Because from where I stand, I didn't do anything to deserve this
I got drunk at a party and picked up a guitar and here we are almost a year later.
So I'm anxious
I'm distressed
I'm worried and jumpy
But most of all I'm nervous
Nervous because I think
You might one day figure out what I already know:
I'm not that great.
I'm lanky and goofy and kinda dumb sometimes
And I can be just as petty as everyone else
And I'm still pretty convinced you're colossally out of my league
So I'm nervous
Like shake-you-to-your-fucking-core nervous
Like really nervous.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC
those sounds you make
with air and your voice box,
they're all made for me.
the words...that's what you call them.
when you pen down these words for me,
you're knitting my clothes:
black thread
embroidered on white.
always the same always so different.
that's how everyone gets to know me:
with your name, (always) the right fit
like a shoe that goes with every dress
I am the soul of all your creations
that part of your soul
that resides in white
I am all that energy that has bled from you
I am your soul - your soul is in me
I dwell in the blood that sweats through your pores.
I am the thrum of havoc in your veins.
I am the reason your heart beats.
it beats to my name.
you're mine.
you will never forget me.
I am your arrogance
I am the reason butterflies flutter
I am truth, I am redemption
I am lies and smiles
and that story you ache to write...
I am alive in the human touch
that keeps you hurting healing bleeding
tumbling in pain agony hate
through the impossibilities of your humanity.
I give you strength warmth courage tolerance
to go on,
to keep on living
and to keep me alive...
I draw life
from that
weird goofy and frankly whacked out part
of your mind
that thinks
I can talk to you
like
at
this
very
moment...
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
Sitting next to her in your pauper's bed.
She complains for the 50th time today about her stuffed up head.
She blows her nose into some tissue.
You wanted to make love, but her footy pajamas would be an issue.
This is the time when this beast is actually tame.
She screams at you and breaks your spirit until you jump at your own name.
She ignores you goes back to reading her book.
It's been ages since she has thrown you a smitten look.
She doesn't even have a cold.
It's 12 months out of the year that these mysterious allergies take hold.
They seemed to appear after honeymoon night.
When she knew you were in this deal tight.
Don't say I didn't tell you so,
remember you left me for her more beautiful soul
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 12:38 AM UTC
You know, you gotta love your pup.
Even, when he is a goofy ****
tearing up your newspaper
or taking your I-phone out
the doggy door never
to be seen again,
or thinking he's a kitten trying
to get all 100 pounds onto your lap.
His four feet bigger than a small pony's,
ears so long they drag the ground.
The brownest eyes, I swear he puts on mascara,
most forgiving- tail
always wagging-
he loves me, so,
I got to love the goofy ****
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
Indirectly,
Timidly, yet
Clearly
Making plans and
Testing waters.
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC