"hippity" poems
shrek is beck
deck is smeck
get top decked by the kripp
or u wont get any dipp
slip slop
drip drop
kip kop
hippity hoppity hood
goes the clock
tick tock
the mouse ran up the wall
and died
rest in pizza
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
My words are not my own,
Nor do they belong to my totem frog
Which hippity hops
His way trough my life,
Guiding me towards a metamorphosis,
From drunkard
To enlightened.
He (I) sure am taking his time,
But should/could this journey be rushed?
My poems are not the caw of the crow and/or raven,
She does not sing a song so beautiful that I am moved to purge it least it take up too much of the spare space I have inside of me.
She is my spirit guide,
Turn this way, choose that one (with the pretty smile which makes you ever so nervous),
Do not wear that ridiculous outfit,
Don't even think of-
Too late, now live with the repercussions, idiot.
A ****** of voices.
My muse tickles my lust and embraces my love
But is neither.
She/he dons many faces none of which I have ever seen.
Whimsical ***** ******* of emotional release
I do not know you!
I write your words as they come into my head.
Or I would,
If I could keep up with your maniacal laughter;
You spew nonsense rapid fire, child slaying zombies with Cheetos stained fingers,
And with all the elegance therein.
Yet,
I am thankful indeed.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Here comes Jesus
from his tomb
With baskets full
of gloom and doom
Judgment, famine,
pestilence and war
He says the end
is coming soon
I wish he’d sing
a different tune
Something that
we haven’t heard
before
He’s got Aids for Tommy
Parkinson’s for Sister Sue
There’s an STD for Mommy
(Daddy hasn’t got a clue)
Here comes Jesus
from his tomb
With baskets full
of gloom and doom
Judgment, famine,
pestilence and war
Maybe if you’re
extra good
And try to do
the things you
should
He won’t come
around here
anymore
You’ll wake up one morning
and you’ll know he isn’t there
And you will see the smiles
on the children everywhere
Oh here comes Jesus
from his tomb
With baskets full
of gloom and doom
Hippity, hoppity
what a ******* day!
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 10:48 PM UTC
Calabash Squash
A Poem by Eclipsing Moon-blood red
entry for a contest...rhythm
Hip- hop jury swapped
Hippity- hoppity sequestered they stop
Bibity- bobity alone on the cobblestone.
falling in- falling over
The balcone wailing, and buckets pailing, and hailing, and
Scaling
The walls and ramparts the cannons were whaling
Moby dicking and schlicking the schlock of the clock… hickory dickery ..where is the Doc?
Blind mice made the move..up one "grandfather side.
... and
Over the top .
Now wasn’t that a quainty dish to set before the Queens …
in drag
© 2011 Eclipsing Moon-blood red
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 4:04 PM 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
Hippity hippity hobo hopped a train in mobo, whilst mobo and toe-do flowdoed down dits bitsy mountain. She-ha and he-haw hast rode bikes to sleetah where burritos were bandits and bandista's on barnyard fence. Smoky and choky were high on mangozee and tis they loved posies of the same tilling field. Geuber and Gruber maketh infants as scoopers whilst dust is their slooper,
Slippery dipsy dask.. . uncle tis and Mrs tas. Tadpole Bennie, neon jenny, Mike and shunny.. Bunnies of two..honey's of few. Crick-crackle pop the hobo didst hop, as I caught him, as he fell, he bumped his head and yelled...( Hobo forever)
As I smiled to his passions...
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
1. COYOTE SONG
A warm beautiful sound
Howling at the moon
Into the cold dark night
2. TRUTH
I have seen the greed
And what it does see
A lot of my friends died rich
3. BUTCHER I AM
I stabbed Bukowski
In the back again that
bstrd smoked way too much
4. OKLAHOMA
O. K. OKIE EYE
Would live here amongst the wells
save the tornadoes
5. UNDER FORTY ?
Poe died old
comparingly
6. SOUTH DAKOTA
A cold place in hell
And a bolder stone
American Reminder
7. HIGH SCHOOL ******
I needed a date so
I traveled outer space
Searching comet's end
8. YAHOO! PAYPAL PLEASE
I owe poetry so
Much. so pay up.
Donations are accepted.
9. A TEAR FOR PAL
Mike Dembo American
Pizzaman. Married man
Walking ocean floor
10. SLIP
What was' I thinking?
That I could be saved'?
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip...
11. TRASH TALK
I strong armed the mother
That was in my way
To get my fix today
12. FANCY FANTASY
Anytime I want to
**** somebody famous
Yes, I think I will
13. CELEBRITY PICNIC?
The whore's gather on
Street corners they promote
Themselves believing their lies
14. 50% OFF?
American people give
Me your retailed money
It's President's Day
15. TO THE FORGOTTEN 1'S
Forty-one more nations
Annotations have been
Made I have found you
16. 1 BUNNY DREAM
A ******* Playmate
Enters my room hip hop
Hippity hoppity
17. DEAD POEM SOCIETY?
I murdered you haiku
In cold blood
Now I'm going to ****** you
18. TABLE FOR 1 EACH
An oreo and fig
Newton meet for lunch
One for me, one for you
19. CUTE COOKIE CRUMBLE
An oreo runs into
fig newton. Fancy
meeting you here, crumb
20. 31 JAN 09
A man died today
on State Street in Hackensack,
New Jersey. So cold.
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
Internal parts spread out
Taken apart, way across
Hop-scotch blocks,
And little girls
Hippity-hop
Toes in each block
In time to a tune
Drums pock a beat
On the little child
Inside the watch
Icky-tickity, tock, tock
A tear from the eyes
Like a drip, faucet
Then over the falls
Niagara in a barrel
Time doesn't, not really
Exist to be selfish, always
Giving a bit more, another
Second turns in to a minute
By yourself, in a barrel
Going over the falls
And right at the edge
Toes over the top
Feet in the air
Head over heels
You look at your watch
Tickity, tickity-tock, tock
Hippity, hop, hop
Right over, toes in the box
With a roar, a tear
Coming together
Tears, not for pain
Like a band on a watch
Pinned to keep place
Just in case you fall
In love, hippity-hop
So when your feet reach
Touch the sky, tickity, top
You can check the time
So know how far you fall
Tickity, tippity-tip top
Check the wrist watch
Toes in the block
Skipping rope
Keeping time
All of the above
Inner chyld, tock, tock
Beautifully in time
Perfectly aligned
Inside your mind
Playing hopscotch
Little girls' games
Over the top
Clippity, tock
Tick, tock
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
The splattered skunk lies
spread eagled on the road,
creating a new white line,
where none existed before;
I fly on by at seventy-five
wrapped in my race car mode,
the skunk is mangled badly,
his inner being has no core.
Huge black ravens hippity-hop,
as I close the gap between us,
nonchalantly, as if to say,
hey- I was here before you;
I watch them dodge me and
I mutter out a silent cuss,
the mess is hardly recognizable,
a mass of protoplasm I call goo.
The stench of dying musk prevails,
gets you coming and gets you going,
I breathe though my mouth,
but the odor still is prevalent;
there are dead animals on the street,
dried blood not longer flowing,
bigger ones can wreck your auto
or leave one hellacious dent.
We **** them this way or another,
with guns and our pollution,
some that were, are now no more
extinct, or **** close to it;
I wish we could pass a law
or come up with a resolution,
that saves all creatures from our wrath,
before the day we rue it.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
Personal memories that linger on the edge of forgiveness
Sit heavy on minds that are relentless
A silly blue dove that flies in the sky away
With a secret that saddens every one of us
A provision and a problem mixed all with transfusion
Beauty that detects its own solemnity
Tells itself it is ok.
Crashes against itself like some ancient book
Upon some ****** shelf
Yeah that date that made the mate feel an elation
Where the tiburons buried their 39 sons together in a mournful wake
Waking for all the wrong reasons in a house made of sticks and spots
That a dog had dropped all along the neighborhood parking lot
Bill mad hate always was so fuckin' late
Inspired to corrupt himself within the carnival fields
Of masked men marrying themselves to an image
Distorted with membership to clubs gated and wounded and founded
Again
In confusion
A literary agent with security cameras attached to the torsos
Told me
"There is always more so, especially in California"
Where the Ker-o Ker-o played
And the marmit sisters were made
Where the Galli fast paced listeners
And the Hager with her blisters
Where the streets curved all the way to the hot east west
A mixture of healing tonics along with the river bend erotics
Power penetrating the hot ***** grinder Simone belters
As ye who make me who I am
Am nothing without the sound of the universal plan
That universal mam a jam
That hippity hop madness clap
All along the corner stone littered in gritty gold
Mad love between the bad luck crew
Living a life they seemed they never believed to choose
A took that right hang along the way
As she took my left
And we walked around these naked river bends
Saying this a' thing and that
Ain't nothing but the blue mockery misfortune
When she comes around me house
Ain't nothing but the blue corn row corners
When she is a knockin' on my door
Ain't it true, ain't it true, ain't it true
I can't live with you
Nor
Can I live without you
May 6, 2011
May 6, 2011 at 10:02 PM UTC
Broken battalions line themselves up
Break neck speed for histories
A broken bottle blood red
More then you've ever said
Truth tears itself all apart
Limb from limb from limb
Heads roll through the soul
Eyes glaring all in red
A repeat offender of ***
A reminder of the best
Things to come aren't always
What they thought they'd be
Enough of the jogging memories
With the hippity hoppity *******
These times are moving quick
How many sticks to beat?
Long trailing roads that blast
At last prance and dance
A mediocre trial by fire
Lost letters of money's desire
May 17, 2011
May 17, 2011 at 1:00 PM UTC
HIPPITY HOPPITY BOOP,
THE GREMLIN COMES OUT TO SNOOP AND
YOUR FACE LOOKS LIKE ****
TAKE YOUR HAND AND
SWIPE IT LIKE A CREDIT CARD
THROUGH THE CREASES OF
YOUR *** WHILE YOU SEARCH
FOR SOUNDS
OF A SYMPHONIC
MELODY.
Aug 21, 2021
Aug 21, 2021 at 9:59 PM UTC
She bounces and that's the only way
Of describing her happy
One foot to the other
A hippity-hoppity of the hips
A woncity-bouncity of the biscuits
The hands are busy, but the mood is light
She's irritated, but in a good mood
The only way only she can be
I ask what's wrong
Thinking she has to ***
But it's nothing, she says
She doing her hungry dance;
She loves to eat
So as she spreads the bread
Cuts the cheese
Rolls the ham
And mayonnaise
She bounces up
And side to side
Geeking out
Hips a hoppity-hippity
Biscuits a bouncity-woncity
A sandwich is born
Like the smile
On her lips
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
Jabberwocky hip hop doo ***
It don’t stop
Til the Hufflepuff huffs and puffs
And shatters the glass slipper
Watch your step on yellow brick
It may be the same advice for yellow snow
Don’t you know
If you tip the magic hat
The rabbit will jump out and hippity hoppity
To a late, very important date
With a snake offering an apple
To the fairest one in the land
Take a bite, it will be alright
You’ll see things so far out of sight
Just one bite will take you higher
Another bite might be like dancing with a sprite all night
Oh the things you’ll see and oh the things you’ll do
If you listen to my advice
And dance the jiggly jig
Of the jabberwocky hip hop doo ***
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 8:08 PM UTC
Uh hum. (cough—clearthethroat)
There is no Try
Now let me write the rhyme
The Hippity Script
Let me...
Tell you How we do
Lovely so lovely doomed
There is no Try
Just do me The Dew
On my nose and eyelashes
Let me be your favorite thing
Lightning flashes
A Mohave storm...
Let me be clear
My throat my dear
Taste-touching her form
Please let me
Flip it into Legend
The Hippity script
There is no Try
No fatal end of Grand
Clear of minds/eye
So thus all began
Uh huh.
(Crickets and sirens)
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC