"goon" poems
While the globe crawls as
S L O W
as my bill is thin,
I've got places to go,
sunsets to chase
and mighty, invisible wings
to feed, so
bring on the sugar water!
Feathers flickering furiously;
sweet Jesus!
where are my feet?
I am BUZZING through today,
routes as long as my tongue
repeated in an
unbroken line
thousands of times,
*hey, **** OFF, you goon!
That's MY nectar!
Scram!*
Planning my daily rounds,
relying on the donations
of fans who eye my turf war
with childish glee
*and I hope
beyond hope to see
pitcher after sweet pitcher
waiting for me*
Because neglect is starvation,
an end to the thrum
of tiny hearts.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
She is a beautiful sight
As she she walks across the room
To fetch my creamy delight
Oh how i miss her so
Standing there across the room
At a counter of cream froze
And i know shell be back soon
So i have to say goodbye
Cause im a goon
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
*Talentless with no position (Goon)
Talentless with position (Doom)
Talented with no position (Doom)
Talented with position (Boom)
Valuable is the caliber of a designee
Designation in itself is incompetent
Talented can exalt the lowest position
With talentless authority bears the brunt*
Bharti
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
You lurk in chat rooms talkin
bout what you'd like to do.
All naked accept for a captian's hat.
Ya know after hello it's probaly
not best to ask do you wanna *****
Mr pervert do you enjoy.
Taking trips to mexico maybe to take in a
show.
Getting beat with a wire hanger
being called a bad boy.
Were ya born with a ***** loose?
Did uncle Charlie get to friendly
and papa John slip something in your juice?
Do you really like farm hand dot com
thats just wrong.
No Mr pervert I dont wanna see pics of you
covered in oil wearing a thong.
And im really not into what ya can fit
up your ***
Glad to know what happend to that goon
at the back of the class.
No you cant have my number.
Okay your a woodman.
Please I really dont need any pics of
your lumber.
No I dont wanna wrestle in the dark you freak.
Yes im happy you enjoy being beat every
other day of the week.
You really need some help.
Yes I think to catch a preditor would be a
great show for you to make a appearence.
No I dont wanna play airlane.
so ***** your clearence.
Please why cant that connection to
your basement just go out.
Guess what your doing now.
Well to be honest I know without a single
doubt.
I can imagine what its like to be you.
well ***** that cause theres some ****
so freaky even I wont do.
So when ya see that name appear
on the screen it's probaly best to ignor.
I mean unless your really into hanging out
with a lathred up nut who eats outta
a dog dish apon the floor.
I was flipping through the channels
and to no suprize what did I see.
why dateline with Chris Hanson and
Mr pervert on my t.v.
I had to laugh at every word said.
Gooodbye Mr pervert.
Didnt take a geinus to figure out
you were ****** up in the head.
Feb 17, 2010
Feb 17, 2010 at 11:33 AM UTC
The wise head becomes a fool sans money,
While the goon with quid around to throw
Assumes a sage - the mayor of phony county.
Why should the prince of letters anyhow
Be in want - lacking in substance great,
Flourishing instead in some wretched state?
Yet the politicians who run down the economy
And men of baser thoughts that make heaven's
Hallowed eyes drop tears by their steamy
**** businesses and those of unholy deals,
Do seem to prosper much in this awkward
World,with those who daily vaunt at the Lord.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 4:11 AM UTC
goon in love
too soon to trust
that's my inner dialogue, just a fire moving along
gazing above
wondering what watches over me as I repeat the mistakes set out forth for me
generational trauma, nature works in cycles
generational drama, focus on plastic idols
daydreams in the white room
unfaithful to the divine fruit
Jul 9, 2022
Jul 9, 2022 at 1:06 PM UTC
I'm an idiot, idi-fool,
Idiot, idiot, idi-tool,
Idiot, idi-lump,
Idiot, idi-chump,
Idiot, idiot, most uncool.
I'm an idiot, idi-goon,
Idiot, idiot, idi-loon,
Idiot, idi-berk,
Idiot, idi-jerk,
Idiot, idiot; a buffoon.
I'm an idiot, idi-plum,
Idiot, idiot, and so dumb,
Idiot, idi-pratt,
Idiot, getting fat,
Idiot, idiot, feeling glum.
Jun 14, 2010
Jun 14, 2010 at 9:00 PM UTC
[Fanfare, obviously]
This poem should begin with the call of a bugle,
as is fitting for an ode of Braveheart Macdougal.
Children of Parklands, take heed and be wary,
as I relate now, in verse, a tale cautionary.
Benigna Murdie was a most virtuous lass,
blesséd with promise and a penchant for sass.
To peer pressure she was admirably immune,
and ne'er did she bow to the temptation of goon.
Nary a drop of ***** has e'er passed her lips,
save for politeness and church-mandated sips.
Yet even the mightiest fall-- what a pity!
(harder than I did that night in the city).
So I hope you all glean a moral from this,
and your interpretation does not go too amiss.
But all is self-evident, to quote Descartes,
so allow me to recount this tale from the start.
She hails from a country renown for their piety,
for their pacifist ways and universal sobriety.
The Scottish are known throughout the land
for their temperance of character and lightness of hand.
And our poor Bennigles was no rule-exception,
she subscribed quite wholly to this perception.
A more reserved and reclusive girl you've not seen,
virtually a saint at only nineteen.
Passed out on the couch, liquor was never the root,
only strain from the studying and academic pursuit.
A paradigm of virtue, a pillar of purity,
no “that's-what-she-said's” to compromise maturity.
But that all changed one day touched by fate,
when Rachel realized that hedonism's great.
She took to the streets to revel in her glee,
and legit nothing bad happened cause this isn't tv.
Alas, now I'm drunk and the screen is a-shaking,
perhaps of wine I should halt my partaking.
I cannot continue with this facetious ode,
as we all well know that this is a total load.
But I'll miss you, my Brit, and our shitshow nights,
our Australian exploits and your culinary delights.
Sorry I couldn't finish to detail your demise,
but perhaps I'll conclude after an Australia-reprise.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
Fracturing my mind, shatter like painted glass,
Smash the memories, Light a match and soak in gas,
I can't handle my own thoughts, too many at once,
All contradictions of the others, no coincidence,
I need to break it all away, all of it in pieces,
So all of my emotions, my mind releases.
I beat my mind, like a racehorse jockey,
Beat it on down, like a goon in hockey,
Stab it a few times, with crossed information,
Did that mean? Nope just hope from infatuation.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
Wondaland, a.k.a. The Magic Metropolis
June 13th, 2021
Esteemed Readers and Writers, Gangstapoets and Hangarounds,
Gangstapoetry proudly declares that CREATION 96 is now the second unit of our Global Movement.
We are welcoming our new members. You are now a part of us. Much Love.
Tizzop
GANGSTAPOETS
**** 13.8 * MIKEY DA STREETWISE * EAZY LEGS * ADORABLE GREGGIE * MONICA MATADORA * SLY BOOTYGIRL * COLLAPSIN CHAOT * THE LADY REVENANT * BEEN * WOOZY WIZARD * TELLY * CRATERSKATER * CHEYENNE IS STARVIN * CASPER THE PSYCHOTIC GHOST
GANGSTAPOETS
DESERT SAMURAI * PRESTON * ALBOW * SNOWBLADE MUTANT * SAMBA *
UNKLE OF DOOM * PLAY * ANTWONE *
BOBBY BUTCHAH * TINA * JOEY * DREAM SEEKER * TRANCE DISCIPLE *
* MOTH * DR. **** * KOBA COBRATONGUE
GANGSTAPOETS
SVETLANA * GUNJAHTOOL * LOUIS ORTGIES * MISHU BRAVE BEAR * GÖKHAN TATCHOUOP * DESOCIALIZED KID * WIND DIGGER * SABIÇ * JUAN * DEAL * LUCY TARANTULA * TEXAS HOLD ME * SOUTHSIDE DRILL ASSASIN * SHAWN * JAMMED JAY
GANGSTAPOETS
THCO * TIMMY ROTTEN * PLATIN ZIPPO * WORLDWIDE WAGGING * ZOMBIE NEIGHBOR * BUTCH * KWAME'S LOST SON * TRANCE24/7 * JIMMY * JOSE, FELIPE & CATHERINE * LAST OPTION PHIL * KIAN * MAX NEWMAN * MAGIC GOON
Jul 28, 2021
Jul 28, 2021 at 8:12 AM UTC
scratched walls,
horrifying screams,
of dreams,
electric chair stupor,
in the boudoir,
breathing lunar air,
it’s a psychotic affair.
dilated pupil,
the brain was being a cupel,
men in white coats,
injecting drugs,
in bodies like slugs.
soaked bodies in bath tub,
gazing on the ceiling reading what’s written up.
loonies conspiring against the medic,
through the power of psychedelic.
eyeing each doctor from the corner of their eye,
sitting on their chairs high.
burning with desire,
cold as a wire.
the breakout began at noon,
headed by a loon.
followed by a goon,
in the end of june.
the loons,
wanted to escape to the desert dunes,
running away from the chemical fumes,
dodging exhume.
electrocuted,
injected,
infected,
discarded and rejected.
the loons had taken over,
the goons had won.
they were stun.
terrible turn of events,
it was all in their mind tents,
still sulking on the beds and their wheel chairs,
dreaming of the answers of their prayers.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
fellowship of doom
rivers loaded with the dead
memories of being fed with a spoon
mental illnesses to be spread
his name is rainbow goon
you find him in levels of twisters
within the thoughts of his sisters
within the fear of his brothers
shattered memories friendships
nobody knows when his end is
right now rainbow goon is writing
on his black arms with white ink
rainbow goon rainbow goon
greed in the eyes of the noon
his face looks like a cartoon
multicolored iris and speed
mentality of hate and rage
fate of a mutant heavy body
every being has a story
rainbow goon rainbow goon
Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 4:04 PM UTC
Assonance was ensconced in my bonce once.
It puts me in the mood for a muse.
Love those cool peaceful pools under a Moon in June.
Or to croon about dunes and oasis blooms.
Such a lovely tune,
It’ll make you swoon.
Enjoy my runes,
No matter how crude.
I can be a goon
Or even a loon.
Sometimes a fool.
Poems strewn with clichés
For want of a better phrase.
Words hewn before noon,
To give you a boon.
Bad days may loom,
Injustices done.
Cruelty that’s is fuel for a duel and may ruin a life.
We may be doomed.
But I must stay upbeat,
Give you a treat
And make you fall at my feet.
Quite a feat!
Every dog has his day,
Another cliché you’ll say.
But I don’t get any pay,
So soon be on my way.
Love to play with words,
Writing songs for the birds.
These words are a tool
For making me cool.
We’re back to those pools:
They are shimmering jewels.
Paul Butters
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
If corporate Dems tell me about how 'We all do better when we all do better'...
Or about how 'It's not about class, it's about coming out for Dems'...
Or about how, 'No one identifies with the working class' or 'nobody wants to identify with the working poor'...
I say to you, WE ARE THE WORKING POOR.
Look at the stains on their clothes, listen to their words, look at the rugged callous of their hands, who amongst us can last a job loss, or wage cut, or a car blow out?
None of us, cept the 1%.
We are the precariat class, the proletarian class.
I say to you, the working poor and homeless are the 'emarginati', the literal marginal ones, the ones at the edges of society.
But who, honestly, isn't at the edge???
The Democratic gubernatorial candidate turned carpet-bagging Congressional goon, Bank of America executive turned-state-CFO Alex Sink embodies the centrist-right neoliberal dogma of 'business-rules', who cares about immigrants besides those who 'clean our hotels and do our landscaping'.
Brand-imaging, quaffed corporate Dems are why the two-party system in broken.
Both parties are sell-outs to capital, and they think we don't know.
We know, and we remember.
Neoliberal capitalism of 'Washington Consensus' imposed on the rest of humanity will fall.
I just hope we wise up as a republic in the mean time.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
This Tangerine Dream
is not what it seems.
Frolicking colors
turn to menacing screams.
The walls start to tear
bugs crawl in your hair
and the answers you seek
are not quite so clear.
Straight up your spine
and right down your back
sweat drops in beads
to the tip of your crack.
Is it all in your head or a heart attack? Oh
how I hope this ends soon
because I cannot take this spinning room
or this devilish goon
who told me that soon
my head would be higher than a hot air balloon.
When it's all over I sure do hope that
my body will be here with my head still intact.
If not for the better than then for the worse,
line up the cars behind my great shiny hearse.
And if in the end this scene busts at the seams
just tell them
it was a Tangerine Dream.
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 9:21 PM UTC
The Sixteen Sacred Palm-Nuts of Yoruba
all enclosed in my fists,
ready to spread holiness in Uganda and Baja California.
I slept last night at the beach
after a long hike down the Sierra Madres.
(The Blackhawks were facing the kings of the western region tribe of Tongva,
and if I were to be a spectator
the privileged white male would win:
so I didn't want to sin).
No more.
I went to Rent-A-Whore,
that sunny afternoon.
To my surprise
it was stationed at the shore.
Those were my goon days when I followed the guru
Long hair, beaded necklaces, and silk indigenous shirts from Nayarit.
Just to **** Hunab Ku
For you.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
I bring hit after hit like a boxer
You haters' inconsistent
Everybody's on the same vibe
Mine's kinda' different
Verse hot, hook hot--
I'm gon' sellout soon as I drop
Verse hot, hook hot--
I'm gon' sellout soon as I drop
Minor in poetry, fine-arts major
Doctor goon on deck, call this a fear-factor
I'm going in, but I ain't got no curfew
I son a lot of you, it's like I birth you
Got a lot of verses, but this ain't a Bible
Fallout when you hear this, I ain't liable
Ain't talking 'bout tearing, but the beats R.I.P
Didn't sell a lot of tracks, but I got D.O.E
Put you up on game, my hustle's M.O.E
Music over everything, ain't moving 'D'
I got cash like the bank, I sell CD's
Smells funny, tickled my nose, I might sneeze
You would think I'm water, the way I flow
I'm just like some dynamite, bound to blow
Act like you're in a recliner, lay back
If I ain't on fire, then why they say that?
Feature, feature, can I get a feature
So far ahead I sit on competition--bleacher
My Raps' like a bunch of apartment buildings, complex
Got chicks on my jock', ain't talking 'bout ***
I'm so different, it's magnificent
Haters want me to fall, but that's not how the script went
Thing's fishy, I ain't gettin' caught in that net
Just killed the beat, without breaking a sweat
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
Topping a rise comes a knight,
armour soiled and stained;
weary yet elated
riding his black steed.
The Princess in her tower sees
and gives a delighted cry.
She leans out her window
and hails the knight:
"Ho!Brave knight!
Whence comest thou?
Tell me thou seeketh me
for I wait for thee."
"Truly",answered the knight
"It is for thee I am come
my fair lady
and to take thine hand."
"I've sailed the seven seas,
toiled through forests and mires,
traversed deserts and dunes
looking for thee".
"Oh the joy!"whispered the lady
and cried,"My brave knight,
glad am I to hear thee but
Didst thou slay the dragon?"
Answered the knight,
"My dearest lady,
I have fought the giants,
conquered the orcs
and tamed the lions."
"Oh brave art thou
my worthy knight.
But didst thou slay
the mighty dragon?"
"I have escaped from dungeons,
caverns with unnamed fears.
Scorpions and serpents
I have crushed to the earth."
"Wonderful art thou
my worthy knight.
But didst thou slay
the fearsome dragon?"
"I have ridden the behemoth,
subdued the depths,
searched the clouds and
fiddled with thunderbolts"
"Magnificent art thou
my worthy knight.
But didst thou slay
the red dragon?"
"Lady,you are besot
with the dumb worm!",he said.
"I wonder if she",he thought
"has been crazed in that tower"
Sighing forlornly,
said the princess
"I canst not leave here
till the dragon is dead."
As the knight turned away
to ride back,she asked
"Whither goest thou?
To slay the beast?"
"Nay lady,nay
I go to slay the dunce
who wrote you
into that tower."
"What meanest thou
my dear knight?!
There is another knight
who dabbles in magic?!"
"Nay lady,nay.
He is not a knight.
He uses his quill
to weave his musings."
Cried the princess
"Oh mighty sir,
Oh Weaver with the quill!
Canst thou hear me?"
"Yes dear lady,"said I,
"What do you desire?
What can I do
that will please you?"
"My dearest Sir!
Oh my bravest hope.
Slay the dragon
and make me thine."
"But my lady
as much as I desire to,
you should know there is
No dragon in the story"
(Silence pervades)
"Oh my dear knight!!"
cried the lady to the rider,
"Slay this goon
and we shall be one."
Uh-oh...Time to put down the pen and run.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 11:38 AM UTC
tizzy looped his past: he had looped it and then looped it howevah, whoop to diz
gangstapoetry boosted its duties newly
we simply gs, whose duties include
slowmoflow like snoop, or p, ain't no thang
i create slang in the hate center, last trip i flew thru loops, break dancers and readers
want answers, so we give straight answers
lyrics of fame bangers, one rhyme for eight
don't take chances, tizz stylobate, sunrise
poems born from crime, give it some time
gotta come right, sell it all at one price
my blood cries in rough nights, plagued by
enough of tough stuff, but me ain't a fluff
i bluff and take what's rightfully mine
tizz is frightfully nice, he neva comes twice
coco loco, monica matadora tending
first song jeezy's "poppin" pimpin pimpz
red-blodded hamza comin ova to test me
subtly intimidating, i just call him "habibi"
ice breaker, you feel me, we good, truly
check out jammed jay, pushin designer
hamza on the toilet, yayo, his girl, bunny
snugglin wit jammed jay for real by now
close to my dj area, rubbin *** gainst ****
tina staring camly into her secret intention
i expect something vaguely, forget it, tho
as hamza al-mighty gets back, explodes
he beats up jay, promptly breakin' his nose
jay looks at the blood; pulls out a cudgel
bashin hamza's skull, flesh splinters
hamza strikes back wit em bludgeons
wondaland's red light, serving proudly 24/7
hamza's pack, yousif, said, wassim and mo
ready to battle the enemy of the enemy
lego goon, antwone, bobby butchah, juan
Jun 14, 2021
Jun 14, 2021 at 1:10 AM UTC
Gloom! Gloom! Gloom!
I can't see the Room for the Gloom
Is there anything else in this Room...
but Gloom ?
How can I bloom with all this Gloom
in the Room ?
How can I find my Vroom Vroom ?
I start a poem "Too soon! Too soon!"
And then it stops
And then there's Gloom
Fetch me a Broom that I might sweep
away all this Gloom
If only there was something else in the
Room... if only.
Doom! Doom! Doom!
How did you get in the Room ?
Who let the Doom in ?
The Doom is in the Room... Again!!!
Doom! Leave the Gloom alone
Doom!! Put the Gloom down
Doom!!! I'm warning you now!
Shall I fume, shall I fume ?
Locked in here with the Gloom and
Doom
No! I shan't fume
They'd only say he's too far goon
(ouch!)
What I need is a boom, a big big
Boom!
A Big Bang a boom boom Boom!
A Boom BOOM enough to fill the
whole Room
With that kind of BOOM!
I could take off to the Moon
Then I'd sing a different tune
There'd be no more Gloom and Doom.
But then, where would they go, what
would they do
Poor old Gloom and Little Doomy
They'd be out there in the cold with
nowhere to go
Lost without any Roomy
They'd be looking in the window at me
all sad and teary
My poor Old Gloom and my poor Little
Doomy.
No! I love my Old Gloom and, I love
my Little Doomy
I know what I'll do
I'll put the Boom in my Room with my
Gloom and my Doom
And then we'll all have ourselves a
HUGE party
A Big Blooming Booming Gloomy
Doomy
A Big Bang a Bang a Boom Boom
Boomy Doomy
We'll all have a Ball in no time at all
Down at the Old Gloom and Doomy.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
paws pause on pavements -
a union fresh out of blackmail -
waste collectors
start sizzling
new trash - contemporary psychotic disorders are
goon makers -
purple heads on
blue bodies cause a skirmish -
you're happy
you're shameless
little piggies in a bay of meat -
fast track to coffee cup sleeves -
I believe in Mississauga
soap operas -
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 2:23 AM UTC
Another cold day, shouting getaway!
Blanket warm, rent saying getaway!
Getaway is written inside my fridge!
Covid-19 adverts against my rent and fridge.
Let me pull up, wear a mask like a robber.
Let me pull up at my office like a gangster.
Take care of yourself and your crack.
Think like a gangster, your business is your crack.
Mask yourself gangster and getaway.
My sanitizer is my pistol, my finger easy on the trigger.
I distance myself from a man like a mobster seeing police.
Life is all about getting the way forward (getaway)!
My sanitizer is my pistol, my finger easy on the trigger.
I distance myself from a man like a goon seeing police.
-Written By: The Senior Date undefined
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 3:16 AM UTC
david was warning me, i didn't listen
instead i kept on running towards you
controlfreak of the netherworld, goon
my life is like a fairy tale, shimmering
invention and glory, similarly
psychopathic word play, baby doll
schizoprenic flow, i have to write
standing ovation for my family
some people have double standards
sweetlove tried to correct me;
hosting a contest about racism
playing grammar police, she was like:
"could you edit this horrible slang?"
no, it's simply the voice of many people
i demasked your entire outfit, kiddo
never ever will you hear back from me
once upon a time, i grew up, now i'm huge
tall, fat, dope, fresh, i'm ********
adjectives for my people to subsist
my life's a motion picture, get it baby
pipi langstrumpf zöpfe, du lächerliche
throw some german into the mix and be real
dinosaurs are chasing me, as long as i'm on it
paranoia guardians, copycat killers, word
livelong sessions, i'm not hiding myself
behind the mask is a good-hearted sicko
a sick, good-hearted person, no doubt
broad-shouldered and i stick my chest out
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 7:49 AM UTC
You stole a piece of my pie
That one hot summer day
The harder I tried to ****** it
You ate it right away
You made fun of my forehead
That one cool afternoon
Your eyes lit up with laughter
I swear, you can be such a goon
You leaned in for a kiss
That one vivid morning
I was surprised to see you
As the kind to be adoring
You spilled out your feelings
That one intense sunset
Our shadows merging into one
An infinite silhouette
You stole a piece of my heart
That one moonlit night
I didn't try to ****** it back
It all seemed just right
I walked away from you
That one frosty day
I left behind a piece of me
And now I've become astray
You stole a piece of my pie
And a piece of my heart
My world has come crashing down
It's tearing me apart
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 5:20 AM UTC
For every earnest question
Your response lacked conviction
An adroit silent escape
Saying that’s how I am made
Is like hammering my gentle trust
Leaving my crackled heart in crust
Just like your dire attempts to woo a foe
I wanted a fraction of that attention you know
I still in hope, of being understood
later or soon
Follow you like a goon!
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC