"hilarity" poems
A poet's supposed to only post poetry
If I try to do anything different under a pseudonym
They'd know it's me
They're not too dim
To shine a light on similarity
Between two varying laugh tracks despite all the hilarity
Been getting down to brass tax with a microscope
I could read the fine print even if both my eyes were closed
So tie the rope tightly around your own necks
As I work far outside of my trajectory from how I make the bow flex
If I was Archie mixed with Cupid
I would
Follow an arrows arc like an archery marksman whose targets are Betty and Veronica's beating hearts
And when they get hit,
They both fall pretty hard
And meet me in my back yard where I get their backs archin'
Point is, I've got precision aim
When I'm shooting for emotions
Make you never feel a thing
Make you clear minded and focused
Let you all in on my pain
Have you buzzin' like a locust
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 6:11 PM UTC
The glitter of strobe
gratuitous gaiety
platitudes
and sanctimonious guile
******* cocktails
on the menu
an ingratiating mask
a gratified grin
Contorted vocal chords
lots of laughter
no time for irony
look at me.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
No, no, I haven’t been doing this myself,
but I live in Cambodia,
and 2 guys and a girl were deported recently
for riding around on a motorbike in the ****
in broad daylight. Actually, you see,
naively or deliberately,
they rode right past a police station.
Now that must have been a sight for sore eyes.
So the police set out in hot pursuit,
rubbing their sore eyes, or whatever they rub,
maybe their truncheons, eh?
And when the perps were pulled over,
the cops didn’t fall about with hilarity
when these riders said quite calmly
that they were going to pick up their laundry.
Truly! They were backpackers! As if that explained it.
But publicly, the cops said nope,
these perps are obscene to be seen like this
and they violate Khmer customs and culture.
The cops even took pictures of this outrageous obscenity.
Indeed. The riders' rapture of being bare assed
and naked and **** free is not for Cambodia.
Certainly not at this juncture.
So their capture resulted in them being deported,
never to show hide nor hair in the country again.
Just goes to show...
But you can get away with ****** here,
particularly shooting union leaders or critics or protestors,
or you can throw a grenade into the opposition,
and **** a few right there. Those killers go free.
It's probably dangerous to speak openly,
but I don't think these guys read poetry.
They're probably busy oiling their artillery,
and even rocket launchers, as the PM
threatened to use against the opposition recently.
Seriously.
They're on the lookout for dissenters here.
Oh yes. And bare ***** Obviously.
So watch you **** in Cambodia,
especially if it's bare on a bike.
And ssshhh! Watch out for your mouth.
You need to cover your mouth up properly, too.
Mike T Minehan
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
Gunshot
Bloodbot
Food-bourne illness
setting rot
Taking time to **********
and thinking of the give and take
and give and take
to **********
Masticate on words of rhyme
and with beer and lime
take the appropriate amount
of lemon juice
and squeeze directly into the
all-seeing eye.
With no fear of reconciliation
and no idea for recollection
and no money for the collection plate
I'm left at odds with the fact
that I used **********
three times in this
jambalaya of words.
Gadzooks
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
6.02 a.m.
sunlight pries your eyes open and i
meet you for the ****** time again and again
nothing mends and breaks my heart more than watching
you fall in love with a novel fragment of me every day
9.35 a.m.
i toast bread with both eyes closed
and i let them char like the edges of my heart
you tell me last thursday's joke
but i erupt into hilarity, anyway
3.17 p.m.
nostalgia is a side-effect of forgetting
you reminisce about knitting parties we never threw
between giggles, i wonder how your words are needles
that pick all of the right places
7.43 p.m.
this world is a stygian dystopia
but you, you are my sole scintilla of colour
i feed you blatant lies for dinner
only to let you sleep with a peace of mind
11.59 p.m.
i watch you fall asleep to the rhythm of my silence
there are all types of silences and distances
but this
this is the worst kind
please, don't forget
to remember
me.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC
Everyone says
"Oh, don't worry! It's just a phase."
Or even worse,
"You'll grow out of it soon."
And so you begin to think
That the quirks and smirks
You see in the mirror
When you've wiped the shower fog clear
Are somehow wrong and undesirable
To the masses of others outside your door
Even if what you see makes you happy.
And so you try to hide
Behind conformity and masks
Of aloofness,
Of apathy,
Of indifference,
Of nonchalance,
Until you yourself begin to believe
You've passed the phase!
You've grown out of it!
You're finally someone whom the world
Can pour its love and adoration on!
And so you wait for that sparkling moment,
When you go from ugly duckling
To ravishing debonair desirable swan,
Yet the days turn into weeks into months,
And finally years have passed away
But nothing happened.
And you find yourself wiping away
The shower fog with a tired hand
Only to see the quirks and smirks
That used to make you happy
Are gone and for what gain to you?
Where are the masses of adoring friends?
Where are the praises of who you've become?
You're all alone like you've always been.
But I ask you,
Is this really who you want to be?
Where's the girl who recites Chaucer?
And rolls down grassy hills?
Where is she whose snarky comments
Could hours of hilarity fill?
Where's the girl who laid bricks
Side by side with her father?
And imagined up the neighborhood
Olympics with his other two daughters?
So I'll ask you again,
Face in my mirror,
Are you happy?
Is this who we're going to be?
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
I have a vision
Of a future
Bright, joyous,
And the contrast of sorrow
Children skipping, giggling
Darkness and light
Musical notes drifting through
Dramatized passion, hilarity
Nature surrounding
Encapsulated in cobweb of love and support
Unfortuna-mentally
I am at once terrified of settling
- being tied down
Losing independence, individuality
Missing dreams
- at once terrified
And at once yearning
With all of me
For a family
For a dream of forever
To settle and begin such a masterpiece
To commit to
And be certain of
The depth there in
Something more important than me or mine
To dedicate self
Surrender
Sacrifice for
And again such a venture requires a partner
Who shares the dream
Enriches the dream
Supports the dream.
Contradictions, aren't we all?
Or am I just yearning for the erasure of self
Through divine love?
Aah~ maternal instincts!
Life of mine,
Live out the step you're in
Young one
Before you yearn and plan for the next!
So fresh and yet to begin
- Society's great work machine awaits
And the experience of other lands!
Life of mine,
Live the experience of now
Fully
Grow all the more for it
Feel each pain and joy
Clarify mind
Build strength of self
Claim a sense of identity
See where it takes you...
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Procession line Vicar,
Speaking with the lowly vigor,
He picked up from a Detroit ******
Calm down…no one said ******
Found prosperity
Through a bottle of clarity
Gift wrapped for charity
Then stolen in hilarity.
Refrain borrowed from a borrowing line
**** rolling down on an incline
Rest at the bottom to recombine.
Face up, mouth open; laying supine
Riots over a turn of phrase
Vanquished hope in lost praise
Lawyer’s bout due for a raise
Pointless comment regarding gays…
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
"It's a beautiful thing, finding yourself through the touch of another."
Even if it's violent
And controlled
Hilarity at its most exhilarating
What is a total package?
"Try not to be so direct," offers my professor.
I'm pretty sure nothing is real anymore.
Only theoretical.
Make me hysterical.
Show me you're worth the inevitable suffering.
And yes, I do realize the suffering is inevitable either way.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Scientists say when the honeybees die, the people will die. That is horrifying. Not our imminent doom, but the extinction of the adorable honey bee. If you converse with these insipid creatures, you will discover bees are jocular and discerning creatures. They are sarcastic and even petulant, that I find to be risible. Their immutable ability to enhance their minute brains renders their vocabulary elementary; however, their impish nature endears them to me. Honeybees aren't dying, but listen to their buzz closely, they may **** you with hilarity; at least, that's the buzz.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
Plastic liquidation
With god as my witness
The only cure with
A grave land as your living space
This forgotten life style
Left you as a ******
Only to your sick Aids ridden fantasy
Ballooned music maiden
May your curls grow to collapse
A broken hilarity
In an overused vessel
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 11:43 AM UTC
Straight lines bound the edges,
while it became necessary to spend
the anchor of time lost in the twisting
patterns slowly darkening to supply
the molecules which provided scenery.
The character was divided
between a wolf and the hiker towering
at the pinnacle of the hill to gaze above
the head of the beast across to the vista
of the trail. Roses bloomed, and the ink
was done, to dry while color trickled
in a world comprised through streams
of shivering light reflected from
the mountain, a flower raised by
the frivolous event of cataclysmic times;
the hatchet carved its cliffs to make
a face of empty granite and the soul of
the rock. The delay created a great offer,
considered by erosion, but the hesitation
defied the smoothing influence of climates
and their ages. The rise killed the
enthusiasms of the hiking spirit,
reconstituting the problem, and
the messenger of hilarity was never less
welcome than when enthusiastic about the
confusion of lost victims. Always a few
of these were
in the scenes along the shimmering trails
with their names that changed at inconvenient
turning points until travelers were anxious
to go through the door into the chalet with its
green carpet of moss. The discount welcomed
them, inside, yet there was no great pile
of money and nothing was purchased. Instead,
after the warmth set in, showing determination,
the man with the pack returned to life on
the wild edge of the land. After a command to
the sharp creature that had been pacified by the
impressive displays of civilization, the walker
began to trek, and the wandering dog felt self
respect, the beginning of membership. So, they
belonged to the range, and the traders had plans
to provision them by means of a system of values
arrived to demonstrate available necessities and
equities conceived in the course of bargaining.
This general aspiration was accompanied by the
taciturn response thought to be more pleasant
than the argument and ill will. Prosperity had
been created by serving fate and nature rather
than by transferring property to a singular pit.
The result was an expectation of good deals and
reliable assistance.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
The skin of consumerism parades her promiscuity in desolate and sheath-like urban stratospheres.
Gaze upon the beauty of a hanging basket and understand that the flutes and trumpets are an orchestral force of nature.
But permit me to cut to the metaphorical chase, oh pilgrim, amidst this treacherous journey of socio-political asylum -
Propaganda is a scaly, oratory genius who wholeheartedly adopts her role in a manner which is not incompatible with the very last day in October.
And the spirit of the blues unashamedly casts her vulnerability to the masses with utmost integrity.
Therefore, I have to ask: do you balance on the brink of hilarity or calamity?
Turn up the heat, oh seductress of the ages, and watch those colors change.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
You were amazing
I could feel your thoughts flow through my very body
Every time you spoke
Every time I caught a glimpse
Thats all I could catch
My net was to big
I was fishing for something beyond my grasp
I knew
My body knew;
because every time I want to talk
My body freezes in place,
not allowing me to walk
I was like a middle school girl around you
Except I was 16
Your Black hair
Your Opinions
Your Big dorky smile
I couldn't take it
It made me want to be around you
But it pushed me away
All of these cliches in this poem makes it lacklustre
I know
But I'm just spewing out the thoughts
that come out angrily
every time I open the book
and see your face
With the green light next to you
Telling me to go
But i'm not mobile
So I just sigh as I close the book
Realising that your intelligence and hilarity will never be near me
Ever again
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
Will an eligible bloke happier be if he
Marries a ranking *ele like Miss Universe
With all her glory and graces, and 'cause
Of marriage mirth? Will a sheila pretty
An unbroken regalement have for a dream
Prince Charming--the fairy man of her whim?
Will the soul be jolly for the sophomore
More than for the frosh rapture of success
Had in the Ivy League of cosmic business,
When the heart cut a caper and an encore
Of hilarity requests of narrowed life--
To have constant binge in lieu of strive?
What man is wholly from trouble free, whose
Being be to sadness inured? Within, the
Spokes do sometimes snap at the rotary
Wheels of serenity, and chaos is let loose.
What thus can stay the pillars of pleasure in
A plagued world is above this little noggin.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
to those who claim to be bored
with everyone
they
surround
themselves with,
know you are
a:
flake,
a speck,
unappreciative ****
a selfish-
poor friend,
greedy and
self absorbed,
and you,
yourself
are too
very very
boring.
more so.
because
a.
you lack
imagination
b.
you are predictable
on presumption
such claim is a self fulfilled destiny.
we focus on hypocrisy
and fail to see the hilarity.
laugh.
Aug 11, 2012
Aug 11, 2012 at 3:36 AM UTC
I am feeling absurd. I had this tinge of shyness in my chest not before; but now I cannot bring myself to fail it. I am quite on the edge of the danger of falling in love again, yet I am anything but regret it; I am, again, devouring its marvel with the tenderest hopes of seeing him every time I venture out of my grounds, and into the winter's raging scenes. Oh, how unfortunate! I have savagely fought it - hurling myself against his image so that it would be crushed and carried out of my mind, alas, inexplicably, towards nothing but misfortune! As if fate hath once again decreed my hearty unrest by this punishment. Punishments no-one could ever come to deny: the sacred desires of loving, and the foremost comfort from the touches of affection. Oh, how I am again imprisoned in this silly infatuation! I might as well be a kid to him; he is unreachable, I am a yellow light beneath his illuminated sky. He is unapproachable; yet he is as sweet and tender; with charm as adorable as the falling snow. Once I could not slaughter the hilarity of his doings; yon picture kept breathing on my mind; torturing it boundlessly with throngs of witty jests! Oh my love, free me of this inherent misery: free me and carry me into the idleness of thy world; and rock me there. Silently in tranquility; I would embrace and endorse my love for thee; how long I to bestow this kiss on thy redolent dignity.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
I was stunned to hear the news that the Great and Loved Comedian had died Robin Williams age 63, I feel at a loss for adequate words.
I never got to meet him face to face, but I had much laughter inspired by his works in films and on TV his face and voice were Familiar to me.
I first discovered him when I was a mere child when he was on Mork on Mork and Mindy. He played an alien, I bet that role was kind of fun.
I remember seeing him in Good Morning Vietnam, watching it in the Movie theater, via the big movie screen, He seemed somehow Larger than life, but loved the laughter he inspired.
I remember him in Dead Poets Society and Good Will Hunting to name a few.
I think he gained some more popularity and hilarity in his role in Mrs. Doubtfire .
I Loved watching him in Patch Adams playing a doctor treating people a bit unconventionally.
I remember him as the Voice of genie in Aladdin
I remember him in The Night At the Museum movies
I feel the loss of him is quite a tragedy
He will be greatly missed
I will remember the laughs his works caused
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
The sadness continues and hilarity ensues:
With a close eye on the test tube, I burn down my venues.
Foxes and diamonds from the cancer within you
Grace my ****** health with phrases that spin you and
Body-parts scattered beside collapsed ladders with
Hair torn and tattered and dog jawbones shattered,
Deceived by a tarot-card-reading man with a hook hand
Who said the scam was a means to increase public demand
Before walking through sewers to see old friends skewered
On trees made of wire with leaves like computers
From Silicon valley rejects who were top of their classes,
Oblivious to the fact that they're dead to the masses,
Who only want cellphones that tell them their names,
So they can remember who they are and from whence they came
And how old they will be on their final birthdays,
When sunlight and skies will be fluorescence and X-rays
And children will tell all their mothers to die slow,
Because they're looking for something more loving than "I know
How much you hate yourself and the world surrounding
Because the applause at your funeral won't be resounding,
Plus your father loves alcohol more than your sister,
Who you may not have known, had your father not missed her,
Which is why all the walls are covered in blisters
And there are cat's eyes and hands peering out of the ******
To which there is no reply, save for incredulity,
For as we collectively die, you all put on all your jewelry,
Which was made by a child with no concept of labor,
Who gets less respect than sweater-vest wearing men in the paper
Who get there by switching the flow and catching the vapors,
Like sentient parasites or intelligent tapeworms
Who tell me it's unhealthy to meet someone and hate her
Simply because when I look at her all I see is the savior.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 6:57 PM UTC
I'm
Done
I simply
Refuse
To be
Pretty.
Cute, maybe
Adorable, sure
I could stand a shot at
Beauty.
But I will
Not
I repeat
Not
Conform to
Pretty.
It's surely
Nice to be
Pretty
But I'd rather
Take my
Sincerity
Or hilarity.
And I won't
Sacrifice my
Dignity for
Regularity.
Pretty faces are
For sale at a
Dime a dozen on
Our magazines
But I'm looking for
More than eyeliner
And lipstick
Guillotines.
I moved past
Pretty
Lost my shot at
Perfection
When I found a
Crack
In my gritty reflection.
Not to say I'm giving up
On my beauty intention
But woman cannot survive
On wardrobe interventions.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC
I am the rain on a sunny day, destroying everything that is remotely happy,
Absolutely revolting as I cling to unstable dreams of loyalty.
Masked by a dishonest smile, I strive to become the positive person everyone wants around.
A court of jesters surround me to justify my hilarity based on their singular opinion.
Carved out of the ivory of life, I break to shambles under immense amounts of pressure.
Unforgiving poetry escapes my mouth in the most destructive way possible.
Nothing I say can justify the horrid choice in vocabulary I spread out on the table before you in a fit of rage and misunderstanding, and now
Tomorrow is another day of regrettable instances and apologies that mean absolutely nothing to you.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
Just when I thought the pain had gone
I get a text and it's about my ex
The girl My Heart's not over yet
The one I swore I'd never forget
Just months after our years, she goes and gets pregnant
And I knew it'd only happen to me
I hope you found your 'perfect love'
I hope you found your 'perfect love'
Ha! Oh God! The irony!
I hope it was all in spite of me!
For all the times you've ******* about your chastity
For every lie you told
to keep that ring on your finger reading "purity"
For every minute you held my hand and whispered three false words
This irony is ******** and you can save it for the birds
I knew we'd never work it all out
but that's not what this is all about
After all the memories made in adoration and devotion
Of course I will lash out with such emotion
Try to tell me I'm wrong for feeling such a way
I'd confront you now but I don't care what you have to say
Ha! Oh God! The irony!
I hope it was all in spite of me!
For all the times you've ******* about your chastity
For every lie you told
to keep that ring on your finger reading "purity"
For every minute you held my hand and whispered three false words
This irony is ******** and you can save it for the birds
And I could only laugh and cry at the irony
and remember all the times I've felt your body
But now I see, I see with such clarity
You and I could never be more than a hilarity
Oh the compromises and contradictons you've made! Deep down I had wished you stayed!
But that was long ago and now this love has decayed!
Ha! Oh God! The irony!
I hope it was all in spite of me!
For all the times you've ******* about your chastity
For every lie you told
to keep that ring on your finger reading "purity"
For every minute you held my hand and whispered three false words
This irony is ******** and you can save it for the birds
Oh how ironic, I could laugh.
What's done is done
It's in the past
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC