"gumby" poems
So I heard once that there’s always
some gnarly looking carrot
in every bag of carrots
and you’re supposed make a wish on it
if you get it.
But I didn’t have a bag of veggies
I had a jar of Gumby and Poki
shaped gummies.
Finally the day came when there
were only two Gumbys left.
One was bent in half and
smashed together
and the other looked as all the rest had.
I pulled out the sad little gummy and
made a wish
like it was some ugly carrot.
I wished my crush would kiss me,
And giddily I walked to a coffee house
because I was hoping he would be there
even though I sternly told myself that
he had no reason to be there.
I found the coffee house closed and knew
my wish wasn’t happening that night.
I talked with a friend about my woes
and she confessed her heartache.
We smiled and laughed and died
just a little on the inside.
We had hoped that in college we wouldn’t
feel like middle school girls
with unrequited crushes.
The next day he dropped off a fish
(and this is no euphemism
or pretty poetry slang,
I opted to fish-sit while
he went home for break).
After he left, and
feeling more than silly
I took out the last Gumby
and pretended.
I pretended that it was every wish
on a boy I had made
since I realized boys weren’t
completely disgusting.
On my way to class
I held the little gummy in my
frozen, clenched fist
and wished
that’d he’d kiss me before he left.
I made it really specific
because every movie I’d ever seen
with genies in it had taught me that
specifics were key to avoiding
mishap and mayhem.
Obviously, it didn’t come true.
And I feel like I’m back in middle school,
wishing on ugly carrots and stars
that look suspiciously like airplanes.
Everyone has crushes,
and still more wishes.
Why I thought
at the age of nineteen
when the glamour of Disney-endings
and romantic-comedy plots
had tarnished to realism,
that a Gumby gummy prayer
would come true,
well I’m not entirely sure.
Maybe it’s no matter how old you are
there are always ugly carrots
and shooting stars
and fast airplanes
and romantic comedies
and gummies in the shape of
kids’ show characters.
Maybe no matter how disappointed I am
there will always be unrequited crushes
and genies for wishes
and God for prayers
and heaven forbid
hope.
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his eventuation evocative execrations, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shadow in the shade of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’.” “The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying ‘kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent’ , it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed Gumby ****** Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
Cinnamon-Raisin French Toast.
Maple syrple, microwaved hot.
Secret ingredient,
Secret no more!
A splash of vanilla in the batter.
We chat about this n' that.
About the play,
She didn't love it.
About the daughter-in-law's cleaning skills,
A good housekeeping award, she ain't gonna win.
Her grandma from Austria,
Seeing ugly would call it
Unlovely.
I am thinking,
Your genetic humanity, betrayed.
What a great poem that would make....
She is thinking, boy,
You needs haircut bad.
But she don't nag,
As my hair has drifted to one side,
Instead she just calls me
Gumby....
There is always a way.
There is always a way,
To say it softer,
Say it easy on the ears,
When you can't say nothing.
It takes practice.
It takes into account,
Nobody at this here breakfast table is
Perfect exceptin' for the
Cinnamon-Raisin French Toast,
Which has left the table.
It takes a splash of vanilla in your
humanity,
To say it right,
When sometimes, what needs saying is the
Unlovely.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 10:27 AM UTC
~
Gumby, Wood Woodpecker and Me
~
somewhere in the mother lode
of a thousand poems scripted,
lies a pen-pained tribulation, an old ode,
to the taming of the shrew,
the shock and awe of my new born,
slept-on hair mode
Ogdiddy,
she says,
rise up quick!
thy self to the mirror dispatch,
see what god hath wrought
upon thy head this brand new morn
blessed am I,
at this late stage,
in posses of a
goodly and shocking amount
of hair au naturel
each of my body's parts has a mind of its own,
my hairs, each one a different opinion and resultantly
an amazing new creation born come dawn
sometimes straight up like Gumby
she quips,
sometimes a shocking tail to one side
in the style of one Woody Woodpecker,
she mockingly cries!
and on and on each daily
a new cartoon characterization proposition,
until one day in feigned wrath I do reply
*just you wait Mrs. Higgins, just you wait,
you will rue the day my do
will be best described and descried by you
as akin to that of one known as
SpongeBob SquarePants*
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 9:01 AM UTC
"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his eventuation evocative execrations, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shadow in the shade of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’. The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying", "kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent" , "it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed porker of a Gumby ******* ***** monger Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 1:26 AM UTC
.
I'm one tissue shy of calamity,
next to the last soul in humanity.
I am one ounce of pride short of dignity,
and one mph away from velocity.
I'm in one town, you're intensity,
a Master Charge away from identity.
One aching tendon from flexibility,
and one arc'd degree from the university.
Happiness has lost it's frivolity,
I have narrowed down my availability.
Gumby has lost all elasticity.
Will we live beyond infinity?
I've never crossed the lines between serenity and insanity,
has a poet's moon lost it's sensuality?
I am one drink ahead of sobriety.
The second to last to stand in society.
The unforgivable sin elbows my morality,
your pen sells your individuality.
One jail bar between your vulnerability.
Your down to earth qualities mock your vanity.
My daddy never claimed me through paternity,
I was the last kid standing in the maternity.
And just when I thought this poem was through,
you asked me to spend eternity with you.
Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
I practice
Pai Lum Kung-Fu,
which at 63
may seem absurd.
Not to be
a tough guy,
those days
are over.
Just to feel
the flow.
A martial art
is like poetry:
you work
your whole life
and never
perfect it.
So what
if the lovely
seventeen-year-old
girl beside me
can stretch
like Gumby
and the lean, mean
twenty-something
kid always
finds my nose.
It is meditation
for the body.
When it works,
it is being,
not doing.
You don't do
the technique,
you are
the technique.
The joy is in
the effort,
not the result.
~mce
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 8:33 PM UTC
We gonna hammer the nail that dont set flush an even playing field of lowered expectations.
Wanna givakida trophy for not trying hard cause his feelings are at stake...gimme a feckin break ?
Gotta bullyshame
Lifelong crying game.
Dr Spock is laughing off his ***
***** shame.
GPA. By Gumby and Poky
Elastic. Whole perception hoaky.....smoky
around the borders...
Ahh sixa one equals half dozen of the other
Anything.trumps nothing all right ?
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
In Existenz
I saw two moons
One was cardboard-grey
And the dish ran away with the spoon
The other was piercing, yellow and bright-
A unisex cross of an eye-blinding light
And on a street corner
Between two tall trees
Kneeled two black angels
With massive white wings
They bowed on a plateau
Before a gumby-like shadow
With broad-even shoulders
And dangling limbs
And for a moment
I understood closure
What it means not to know
And never to see --
-- But back to the shades
Lacking glimmer, a glisten
I wonder why they don't talk
When I'm willing to listen
Why don't they state the rules
In the chance they'll be broken
Unless they didn't count
On one poor lost token
What I wouldn't give
To just make them pleased
They wanted oil and water
But I gave them fire and ice-
How much more can I tell them
I don't hold the keys --
-- Back to Existenz
Where fake plastic looks pretty
Wool-gathering and rubber gods-
Birds do come out at night
Amidst petty shudders
And dreams in plight
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 7:23 PM UTC
i made with you / gumby graphics
gifts of kiss
parameters of malleable minutia in misfit music
meanderings of our midnight sting
our bodies in bonafide brevity, singing
seeking seiks' mischievous apathies
on the fringes
IMAX movie-like scenes without acting out / words
tongues
the levity or suspenseful sanctions / unhinged
members and mouths mapping galactic absurdities
Mars and mercurial in star-crossed appetites
burning as suns should; meteorites / streaking sky;
in wonderful dining and gustful bites - eyes
full of asteroid-desires coalescing
masculinity in every copious opus / in rites
of unforgiving depths / in blinding supernova nights,
forever ever / in a name of fantastics and amoebas
these boys worshipping planets x, y, z / emotions coax & ***** elastic
strength of steeds, drinking the implacid body's
mead / wrestling without a fight's reprieve
fires, our mouths, / incite body-art / completely received
intrigued with warm inner spaces
paint brush of hours in museums of sweat / engraved,
encased / ******** sunburst theories on theories of tastes
and comets stroked / our body-art in hues
which love forever ever levitates . . . in spacial haste
wormholes and Thanatos amused.
Beautiful Eros rain : Bodies paint.
(nebulae & you.)
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his execratory eventuation evocative expletives, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shadow in the shade of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’. The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying", "kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent" , "it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed porker of a Gumby ******* ***** monger Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 7:55 PM UTC
"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his execratory eventuation evocative expletives, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shade in the shadow of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’. The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying", "kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent" , "it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed porker of a Gumby ******* ***** monger Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”
May 10, 2024
May 10, 2024 at 12:33 AM UTC