"goosey" poems
Thorn amongst the weeds
As for what was sown among thorns.
It wasn’t the pumpkin vines: Little did I know:
I watched him daily watering the young plants;
Pulling the dried weeds, and
adding more manure soil to the garden
It took several weeks for me to see a garden full of beautiful
pumpkin leaves and flowers
Little did I know: it was more than vines,
It came with those neuro-protective qualities,
and can also influence pleasure, memory, and thinking:
However, what’s is good for the goose
not necessary good for the gander.
So there I was a little Miss Goosey goosey gander,
Whither shall I wander? Upstairs and downstairs
Or hide behind the old shed, and indulging in high-caloric treats,
Not everyone who uses marijuana becomes addicted.
Nor everyone who writes a piece is a poet, but a good story teller.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Even though they control my *****
claim over my lootie,
and they attempt to gaslight my sovereign multifrequency
I haven’t forgotten I am a certified Duesy!
You’re bumming off me, little mousie.
Even if you thought I was a loosy,
I adore my *****
I mean just look at the way it oozes,
sweet nectar that makes you goosey!
I’m too busy
keeping you alive from my *****
Orgasming at light speed to my divine presence, to behold you’d require a diamond koozie.
Call yourself a flouzy
for not respecting this sequency.
If you truly had one too, you’d understand why I am reclaiming my dignity.
They want to own what they do not revere in secrecy.
I can’t be bothered to slow down for you to drain my juicy.
I am too in love with my *****
They try very hard to downplay my power, so sussy.
Bow down or drown in this *****
Ordained into structured flowies,
life is mine, fulfillment With me can be so easy.
But if you’re not with this *****
don’t get too close you Will get dizzy!
So much life is brewing inside my *****
It’s ironic, all these dictators came through my *****
My lips spit you out even though you pretend to be so bossy.
True Power can’t be manipulated you fool, I’d be triggered too if my mind was that lousy!
Are you put off yet, *****
Awww, don’t be so fussy!
Thaw that heart out it’s too icy.
GET OUT of my *****
go elsewhere to be pissy!
Just not on my planet crazy,
you’re on your last mercy!
Jun 9, 2025
Jun 9, 2025 at 11:11 PM UTC
Writhing, the screeching leviathan demands
And I cave to save the aching from tricky time slopes
Pained craving
Wavering but
Hit and
It’s all loosey goosey goodness
Sensing silent magma pulse, whoosh the tummy tingles
Droopy ears gape-face giggle no more nowadays
A stern turn in old age the silly phase of
Too bright, neon common numb tongue rambles
Secedes into introspective
Crowded walks, broken talks strung into threats clustered and
Flung like monkey **** at many-stabbed ego, Brutus?
Strangers will eat you
The professor thinks I’m funny because
I know the answers in class
The other day Dingus
And Whoseewhatsee tried to alley mug and hurt and end
And money!
No, rocked nose ran dude! Fine
Trying not to fear the outdoors, though
The arthropods and phantoms tell me ***** jokes
And not to eat my candy
Books melt into soupy mercurial elixir
I slurp them and belch
Educating myself in a barn ******* knowledge
On loud faces; empty meat
Where you can hear the jingly metal
Thing when you shake it, it’s dead no flower
They don’t always like me
But
I’ve got the jeepers creepers behind my peepers
And a million lightyears to burn
Truth is worth dying
Four **** sow
Izzeny thing these daze
Maybe it was a bust from the start but there’s
Always art
Quieting the plague that revealed
Not so good after all
Tiny thorns and all-consuming
Waves of red-get-out wrenching, gutted like a fish
Overcome, that never went away or found
A place to sit
Memories arthritic grind a grim gray whetting stone
Reduce with juice-cloud, grape teeth cough will never find a home
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
6:45,
this sounds a bit Agatha Christie as if the 45 is out to get me and the 6 being an innocent bystander had a gander anyway.
Well whadaya know Cockney rhyming gets in on the show.
Goosey, Goosey
where's our Lucy did Desi get his bride?
Okey choke me Arbroath smokies,
I love a bit of fish
I wish
I wish
and then I pop
will wishing ever make me stop?
Going down to Chinatown
A west end luxury
Peeking at a Peking duck
Which will in turn, turn around to be
a chicken.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 2:07 AM UTC
Oopy Doopy, Super Sloopy.
Loopy snoopy, pants apoopy.
Lippy hippy, slippy dippy.
Nasty-nicey, normally snippy.
Loosey goosey, chocolate moussey.
Usually *** goofy as Gary Busey.
Hinky-stinky presidential *****
Winky-blinky, dangerously stinko.
Hippity hoppy, flippy-floppy
Get a mop, it never stops.
Laughy gaffe-y, riffy-raffy
Face as gross as rotten taffy.
Whammy-bammy, scary scammy
Mammy-jamming Uncle Sammy.
Lumpy-dumpy, far from humpy
******* up future jumpy bumpy.
Glossy boss, a frightful loss
Ungathered moss at twice the cost.
Serious gap while the country naps
****** sap giving us a slap.
Frightening nooses tightening,
Rights denied like summer lightning.
Ignoring Popes and Snopes
Hopeless dopes put us on the ropes.
Immune to our cries, elected guys
Make horrifying decisions most unwise.
Like black magic before all our eyes
We’re leaderless as freedom dies.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
ATYPICAL GAY GUY
I am an atypical gay guy
I don’t match any mold.
I am not young any more
But not in any way old.
Too fem to be a he-man
Too butch to be a queen.
I am neither fish nor fowl
Always Mr. In-Between.
I do love my show tunes
And of course Miss Babs
And I do put a bit of product
In my hair, just a few dabs.
I don’t haunt the health clubs
Flexing on the big machines
Trying to bring to vapors
Our local workout queens.
I do like to cook a little bit
But, my house is usually a mess.
I don’t like angora sweaters
And would never wear a dress.
You couldn’t really peg me
By the way I usually walk.
I don’t lisp or squeal, so
It’s a manly way I talk.
I do cruise quite normally
When hot guys walk by me.
But, I try my best to do so
Undetected, and slyly.
My taste in men does not
Run to muscled guys.
When I see someone pass
I first look at his eyes.
It’s hard to get me into bed,
I am really rather choosy.
I don’t do promiscuity,
Not a backdoor loosey-goosey.
So don’t go giving birthday gifts
Of dildoes and leather goods.
You won’t find me in costumes
Like rubber and leather hoods.
I am an atypical gay guy
I don’t match any mold.
I am not young any more
But not in any way old.
Too fem to be a he-man
Too butch to be a queen.
I am neither fish nor fowl
Always Mr. In-Between.
Brent Kincaid
1/27/2015
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
The time will
present itself
when I should want to keep my head.
When my stomach should be calm
instead of gently churning.
When my tongue
should bend and twist and tut
at my command, instead
of swelling uselessly.
When my feet should follow
one before the other
in a seemingly well-rehearsed
line instead of lazily
trudging helter-skelter.
The time will
present itself
when more problems than
solutions fill this wine glass
to the brim, and my mind
will wail for lucidity.
But that sensual time
is not tonight.
Jul 26, 2011
Jul 26, 2011 at 9:11 PM UTC
Hinky Jinky, Stinky Pinky
The One Percent will play.
Squirrely Shirley Hurly Burly
In the full light of day.
Hop them, bop them;
You can’t stop them.
They’re never going away.
Crying, trying, always lying,
They count on your ignorance.
Hinky Jinky, Stinky Pinky
Wham bam, thank you man.
Daffy, laffy, slappy happy.
What’s the hap? What’s the plan?
Cooked books, buncha crooks.
Loosie, goosey, where’s the noosey?
Flakey, fakey, jump in the lakey.
Take and take, oil of snake,
How much of this can good people take?
Scream and shout, let it all out
Stick it, we’ll show up and picket
You’ll try to trick it, we’ll buy you a ticket
On a rail, feathered, or off to jail.
Subliminal criminals, sentences too minimal
We’ll feel best if you and the rest must
Sell your houses and cars from behind bars.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 2:26 PM UTC
Loosey goosey, Gary Busey
Makes more sense than you!
What do you see, big kaboosie?
What would Vladdy Putin do?
Fussy wussy, presidential woosy
Tell a whole buncha more lies.
Flappy ***** big **** slappy
The best your money buys.
Choppy woppy, never stoppy
Even when caught on tape.
Shouty, pouty, tough it outy
Completely out of shape.
Fleecer, squeezer, ugely obese
Shadow of your youth
Ripoff, tipoff, always lipoff.
Incapable of truth.
Heapy cheapy, never sleepy
Won’t pay your own bills.
Brainless pain, runaway train,
All your ideas can ****
Neego, peego, bloated ego
The little kids you scare,
Shard, pard, big tub of lard,
As attractive as your hair.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
Take me back, take me there:
Arms all goosey with the cold, as the sun said goodbye to us,
He waved in pinky-purple rays, sliding,
At the end of sticky summer days.
Right then the sea was blue, later he’d be red,
(And my eyes be blue instead), but now
He sat in front and sparkled, and you,
Were warm beside (like always),
And there, right then, (like never);
Your arm the oak bough
Above my shoulder, reaching outwards, upwards, and away.
But here we were, here we’d stay,
The warm trees: solid. Frozen.
And leaning still, and interwoven,
Some minutes more.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
No one likes my poems
Maybe you will like this
Because it's about Rubicon
Juicy, loosy goosey Rubicon baby
Oh yeah, uh, uh, rubicon
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC
6/17/19
"Oh, hello. No, not today, Lucy,
No, sorry, not even tomorrow.
You're just too goosey,
Your faulty logic, like a tornado.
"You live to see me slip up,
But I don't know you anymore.
I know you hated that breakup,
But I couldn't stand our civil war.
"We're done. Done, Lucy,
Yes, we are done forever.
I'm not into your kind of juicy,
There's no tie left to sever.
"Goodbye, I've got a new love,
Hah! You wouldn't understand.
I'm in love with the One above,
Oh, Lucifer. Your face, we backhand!"
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 8:31 PM UTC
To be engulfed by her
in soundless sound
she swallows my all of me
to the point where I stopped
handing out my ***** to strangers
bite me
bite bite bite by bite
so far I am a nothing
in a pile of them
fighting for flecks
the masters sprinkle
so many flakes
too many to little
is it too late?
my thoughts and the
space between them
and the page
draw and
tell the truth
while you are
at it
or don’t bother
eat plenty
of fresh
hearts and minds
when open you can heal
open like newborn flesh
to the blade
mr murukami is
bloodshed an improvement
I think I can
build a good future
don’t control her
pain will follow
I die tonight as
we sleep together
only in a matter of speaking
miles apart
nothing holding us together at all
maybe in soon time the
world will grant me a love
if I keep looking
like ginsberg
If I tell the truth
and keep looking
eternity will unfold
again
a mouth places wet
kisses on each
skin cell now
wet and pink *****
lips ******
nervous lips
picked raw by a thousand
hundred trillion
searching fingers on one
hand
a mass of them
tickling my brain and
flesh meager flesh
young and lonesome
sometime soon I
grasped the secret
to the universe
but my mouth was young
and starving so I ate it
for breakfast now
skin so dark
sun so hot
nothing for lunch
or dinner
what does she want from
me what does she need
the time I stroked her
head as she clutched
me crying beneath the
lunch table
sobbing into me warm
I thought of nothing
she makes me feel stupid
so I let the lips in
my bedroom’s orifices
in they seep empty on
the inside save
saliva and a
trillion thousand
swirling tongues
and stale air
licking me dry
licking me *****
licking licking
glossy and loosey goosey
when the time
comes I unlock
my mind and turn
the outside
inside
to dry and dry lonely wanton
I die tonight an ***
comb back
through and
read this that was
to me, hello. pitty the
the poor disillusioned soul
who forgets to forget me.
pretty girls
don’t tell
them they
are beautiful
such a waste
to let them
know.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
***** posture,
this lady, hunched
over behind the counter
tapping at buttons,
clicks and whistles,
***** and pistols
we go bang, bang, bang
on, in and around one
another
and she's there, ringing
up products, pointing
at slideshow menus
which one is
perfect for an Atkins
diet, "The Carb-o-tastic"
she says with a mild grin
she's being sarcastic,
but no one can tell;
these days our eyes hide
behind screens, brightness
on auto-pilot, the human
race pseudo-connected
come one, this table is empty,
come all, i'm free and a loosey
goosey
the windows wiped
down, heads turned
at a ninety degree angle
appetites like magnets
directed towards red
apples
this garden of Eden
used to be the refuge
for graceful angels
now it's all in ruins,
uprooted and discarded
like ***** napkins
she coughs and signals
her youngest daughter in
and tells her to mop the floor
some ******* spilled
a full cup of tomato soup
and didn't bother to
clean it up themselves
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 1:54 AM UTC
Can't wait to get that out!
Understand my meanings?
Just want to start
Yes! Finally over!
Time to turn off
Yeah! That spout!
How would I know?
For I'm a dude
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC