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Giants of StarTrack



Johnny'.  Hi dudes and welcome to StarTrack oval which is going to be a great match
Between the gws Giants and Geelong cats, the Giants are undefeated here with wins over
Gold Coast and Melbourne and this is promising to be a great encounter, and now here
Is Brendan with his little jingle

Go the Giants go the Giants we are the team that brings afl back to the nations capital
We will never never ever fail
You see we will make sure the Geelong cats score fewer like a little baby snail
Go the Giants of StarTrack yeah
Cool your hearts with a nice cold beer
And make sure the mighty Giants

Johnny'.  Yeah Brendan they was a great jingle and now here is Peter

Giants to win Giants to win, yeah they will win this game
Come on Giants you must play well
Yeah the Giants for victory
Giants to win here at star track yeah, go the mighty Giants

Johnny'.    Thanks Peter and here is another jingle from sue longways

Giants are better than any team, yeah we will have a nice cold beer
And maybe this could mean finals for us
But we must win today to find out where
I am sue longways here to cheer for the Giants
We will never ever get into anymore fights
We want a nice clean game
Yeah we will get the price of game
Me, sue longways supports the Giants baby
And we are in the jungle baby supporting the Giants to beat the cats
I am sue longways, I support the team right till the end
Go the gws Giants

Johnny'.  Ok that is enough for now i will be back at quarter time see ya


Quarter time

Johnny'.  Hi dudes welcome to quarter time fun and our Giants are 1-1-7 and the cats
Are 3-6-24 and what a match unfortunately not in our favour, here is tim with his jingle

We are Geelong the greatest team of all
Oh yeah Geelong we are certainly on the ball
We have got a hold on the Giants early
Yeah the mighty cats for victory oh yes e ree

Johnny'.   Now here is olly

Go the Giants go the Giants we must win this game
You see we must keep our performance up
Put the cats to sleep
Yeah go the Giants go the Giants
We are the team of 2015, well hopefully we will win today
And give our Canberra crowd members a win

Johnny'.  Ok I will be back at half time go the Giants


Johnny'.   Hi dudes and the cats has us on toast about 40  -  15, 25 points up
But I think the Giants have still hope, they should be further in front, well the Giants
Need to play well in the 2 nd half and now here is Robert

The cats are in front
At the half time break,
It's great to see them leading
And the cats are looking like winning
But the Giants could get closer
Go the mighty cats, I can't bare you to lose
johnny'.  Ok dudes and what a great match, as we draw the $1-000-000 prize now
So let's see what number it is, number 1235, and it is Harry burnseide and he has a winning
Jingle for us
Yeah I have won a million bucks oh yeah oh yeah
From this day I am a millionaire oh yeah oh yeah
You see today the cats are up against the Giants
And if you meet me at the bar I will shout you a beer
All the crowd yell out, saying give me a shout

Johnny'.  Ok congratulations to Harry and let's hope that gws can be undefeated on the Giants
Of StarTrack and yeah this is going to be radical and now here is a jingle from the Auskicker of the week

Go Giants go Giants we will win it we will win it
If we lose, please be up front so I can cheer you on cheer you on
The lights are on, the cats are in front
The drinks are on ice and so is God
Yeah come on the mighty Giants mate, kick some fucken ***

Johnny'.  Thanks to the Auskicker of the week and now here is John Barnes with his jingle

Go the Giants the mighty Giants
Will we win this game
We are down by 25, but there should still be hope
We must beat the cats
We are the greater Western Sydney Giants
The team who plays 3 in Canberra, go the mighty Giants

Johnny'.  We will be back at 3 quarter time, go Giants

Johnny'.    Welcome to 3 quarter time and the cats are still leading but the Giants are closing
IN on them and here is Harry with his jingle

go the Giants go the Giants
The might of the Giants are mightier
Come on the western Sydney Giants
Yeah we will rule the roost
We are the best at StarTrack yeah
Give us a nice cold beer for a nice cold day
Nothing hot about today, dude
johnny'.  Ok here is kenny with his jingle

We are the Giants the greatest team of all
Ready to put it to Geelong and force them to drop the ball
We will play this last quarter like it's our own
Like king Solomon on his thrown
The cats are going to get beaten because the Giants are looking pretty slick
The Giants for victory


Johnny thank you kenny and now back to the match
See you full time, go Giants

Johnny'.    Welcome back and the cats won 59-42 over the Giants and now we are on the ground for kick to kick and first we have a jingle by yetta

Go Geelong the greatest team of all
Go the cats we are always on the ball
We played the game so brilliantly yessiree
Today we played away
Go the mighty cats we are the prince of victory
Live from StarTrack oval

Johnny'. Ok here is deadly dean

The Giants should have won this game hoorah hoorah
We are the best in the league hoorah
My friend said what happened we lost this match
I say we would have won it if we got those goals
And deadly dean says he is the champion of the StarTrack oval crowd

Johnny'.  Thank you deadly dean and now Peter

The cats are the best by far
Hoorah hoorah
They are better than the Giants by far
Hoorah hoorah
The cats are the best by far
They were too good for the Giants oh yeah
Go the mighty cats, better by flaming far oh far
Coming in from the top

Johnny'.   Ok thanks Peter and now here is tommy Marcardle

Crack open the beer and cheer for the cats
And send those Giants to kingdom come
And if the Giants ask us for a bit of biff
We say we are too cool for fights
You see the cats were too strong today
And Giants sank into the ground
Yeah mate yeah, go the mighty cats, oh yeah
Send west Sydney to seventh heaven, dude

Johnny'.   Yeah, you sent those Giants to seventh heaven, real bad
Tommy'.   Yeah, top game and I will boost this ball right to the commentary box
Johnny'.   Ok, try it, but no you were no where near it and now here is Keith with his
Jingle


And now we draw the final curtain
Yeah the cats are the best by far
The Giants were never in it
Yeah the cats are fighting fit
We are oh we are oh we are fighting fit oh yessiree
You see the Giants were kicking horribly
I don't understand why they played well last week
But lost this week, then jimmy Bartel said,
That is because the cats were too good, oh yessiree

Johnny'.  Ok before we go, here is sue longways with her final jingle

And now we draw the final curtain
The Giants lost, oh yeah
I don't know what went wrong mate
But the cats were too good
You see, Giants fans will swing on the curtain
And drop to the bottom like they do
Go the mighty cats said our mate Keith
Hopefully the Giants will bounce back
And win the remaining matches ooh yeah

Johnny'.  Ok dudes, that is it for day, we will be back next year on the Giants of StarTrack
See you, dudes


Sent from my iPad
THOSE WERE GREAT FIREWORKS HOORAH
YEAH, PRETTY RADICAL FIREWORKS HOORAH
THE FIREWORKS ARE ****** RAD
AS THEY ARE SHINING BRIGHTLY WITH THE GHOST OF DAD
MY COSMIC ENERGY HAS IMPROVED
SINCE I STARTED WITH THESE EMAILS
I SHULD BE THE THE 75 LIKE TO THIS VIDEO, HOORAH
YEAH, FIREWORKS ARE A GREAT WAY TO PARTY, HOORAH
I AM THE COOL PERSON, WHO SEES DADDY'S GHOST
IN A GIANT PUFF OF SMOKE
I THINK HEAVY METAL SHOULD JOIN THE FIREWORKS
TO ADD FOR A VERY SPECIAL EFFECT
PRETTY MUCH LIKE SKYFIRE IN MARCH IN CANBERRA
FIREWORKS, THEY LIGHT UP THE SKY, OH YEAH
FIREWORKS, PRETTY **** RAD, HOW COOL
I LIKE JUDAS PRIEST, AND ACCA DACCA TOO
BUT AS EACH FIREWORK SHINES, DUDES
IT LIGHTS THE SKY FOR YOU
HAPPY NEW YEAR, DUDES
between the *******
of *******
Marj lie large
men who praise

Marj’s cleancornered strokable
body      these men’s
fingers toss trunks
shuffle sacks spin kegs they

curl
loving
around
beers

      the world has
these men’s hands but their
bodies big and boozing
belong to

Marj
the greenslim purse of whose
face opens
on a fatgold

grin
hooray
hoorah for the large
men who lie

between the *******
of ******* Marj
for the strong men
who

sleep between the legs of Lil
This is the anthem of the ages
Hoorah!

Let’s march and sing
Hoorah!

Redemption has flipped the pages
Hoorah!

Feel as if I can do anything
Hoorah!

This is the anthem of the ages
Let us march and sing
For redemption has flipped the pages
And I feel as if I can do anything

Hoorah!
Today was the day -- my last hoorah...

Now whenever I see you I know I cannot say anything else
because there is a fine line between being there and seeming
attached and I cannot afford to cross it.

People say I have a big heart and let me just say that I've never
really believed them until now, because after all of everything that
has ever happened, after you ignoring me, after you being a complete
*** to me, I still want what's best for you.

I know that when it's midnight and you're alone in your room
thinking about something I'll be there if it's bad, if it's good, if it's mediocre;
I'll always be here.

Normally people would be bothered that you aren't the least bit
there for me -- you have not uttered anything apologetic, nothing showing
sympathy, no signs of caring about me; but I, no, I am not.

Someone once told me that people like me have reservoirs in our hearts,
small, tiny places where love is reserved for ourselves -- just enough to
get by; to survive. But then we take this love, if we have none left anywhere
else, even if you are the person who has drained me from it, and we make
sure we use it for a good cause.

I will be happy when you are happy. Actually, I will put up with feeling like
complete and utter **** everyday as long as you are okay, because I can
take it.

Today, was my last hoorah.
Julia Quizon Jul 2014
they crowd the palace
kings with golden scepters
and queens with glimmering crowns
one by one standing in front of
the tallest tower

inside there are
streamers painted with every color smudged on an artist's palette
the music is blaring
entering the ears of every listener

inside there is
food on every porcelain plate
and napkins folded into delicate shapes

there is a banner
looking down from the heavens
written on it is the reason behind this sudden celebration

congratulations my love for
once again you have managed
to make me the dust
beneath your feet and
the rust between your bones
Jon Tobias Feb 2012
She laughs as I tell her how
The way she devours her stadium dog
Is so *******
I can’t concentrate

Only we are interrupted by
The crack of gunshot over an open plain

It is followed by a hoorah hurricane
So unison I stop trying to make her laugh

Think about the car ride later
And being stuck in traffic
And sliding gently into home

I want to tell her about years from now
Ninth inning deathbed passion
When my red seems finally begin to burst their cotton
About the splinters living inside of my hands
I was living with them inside of my hands

That’s why I was so rough sometimes
How the scotch guard kept the **** off of my knees

I loved to trace the outline of her ***** diamond
Until there were grooves in there
And my initials in her catchers mound

We are so much hoarse voices
Lost in the noise of ***** hands clapping

How I imagine
As I am sliding into home
In our shower
The soft patter of water on the curtain is stadium applause

Let me run grooves in your shapely pattern
Your laughter is a full circle homerun from heartache

Save me again sweet music
Open plain gunshot buildup
And then a noise so booming it is silence

And us
Ninth inning deathbed lovers
Gently sliding into home
This poem was a challenge to me to write about baseball. I wrote about this instead. Close enough I think.
roll up roll up
this is the greatest cosmic party ever
my dad as a girl and rob douglas and mark jones
getting ready to perform their cosmic christmas carol
here it is
we are gathered here in outer space hoorah hoorah
about a stones throw from the christmas tree hoorah hoorah
singing jingle bells and santa got stuck in the chimney
really pretty cool to us
silent night holy night
because it's beginning to look a lot like christmas
with jolly old saint nick coming close after that
have a holly jolly christmas and deck the halls
those boughs of holly will sprout everywhere
happy holidays, celebrate santa claus's party
because it must be santa, the man of the day
some say it was jesus, when a child is born
as he laid away in a manger in jerusalem
santa came through the computers
because there ain't any chimneys no more
having christmas where the gum trees grow
orana orana, orana to christmas day
so get down and have 12 days of christmas
do you want 5 golden rings
and a partridge in a pear tree
it is great to have a carols night
in every city in the world
especially sydney and melbourne
joy to the world, all the boys and girls
better watch out, we drink we drink we drink
to the ole fave, lily the pink
and swinging on a star, is a great thing to do
so rudolph the red nosed reindeer
had a very shiny nose, had a holly jolly christmas
getting mistletoe and holly up the nose
you sneeze as you hear let it snow let it snow let it snow
and santa baby coming down the chimney tonight
so we are partying in the cosmos
we wish you a merry christmas
we wish you a merry christmas
we wish you a merry christmas, in a rusty holden ute
party on dudes
that was the greatest mixing christmas carols songs i have heard
thanks to my dad and rob douglas and mark jones
COOL MAN, HAVE FUN, DUDES
Kelsie Kullman Jun 2012
I stood outside watching the rain slowly melt from the clouds

My porch let me step onto its short pathway, for it knew my thoughts

I stood there and looked up at the sky, being guarded by the small roof above me

I watched as the rain fell silently to the streets and listened as it hit the bushes

I kept waiting for it to change

I kept waiting for it to change me

For it to wash away something deep inside me

I wanted it to wash away any hurt

Wash away the insecurities

Wash away the denial

Wash away the sins

Wash away the thinking of “You’ll never feel the touch of someone in love”

Wash away the scars

Wash away the memories

Wash away the impurities

Wash away

I stood waiting but the rain still poured on my outstretched hands

My hands opening to God asking,”Why me?”

The hands of a woman who has never felt the hands of a man in love

The hands that can make me whole once more

As I stood watching the lightening soar across the sky and the thunder gently hum

I wondered “Is this life real? Is this God real? Is love real? Is any of it real?”

I shivered and stood waiting for the rain’s response

None came; the only response was the silent tread of water heading toward a gutter

Funny, just like my life, always fighting against gravity to stay clear of the gutter

Shivering I stepped back inside and heard a small clink of a piece of broken glass

I held it, amazed, wondering if my life would end this way

In the hands of a tiny piece of melted sand

I looked at its tiny iceberg shape

I turned it and it suddenly transformed into a misshaped heart

A heart, like mine, so clear, so ready, so fragile

I tossed the tiny love into the air as lightening made its last hoorah

Hearing only the distinctive clink as it hit the sidewalk

The rain responded joyously as it picked up its pace

This was her response

Nothing may be real but the rain

In the end, sometimes, it’s all we can depend on to wash away our old selves

To stand, like an escape from Shawshank; free

This was my answer

That my tiny glass love lying patiently on the side of the road will someday be picked up and thrown wildly into the wind hoping that it shall find the fingers of a lovestruck current

This time instead of a slab of concrete, I shall be there to catch it as lightening strikes my heart

I looked up at the tiny roof guarding my head from the cold drops of reality

It was then that I decided it was time to take the roof off of my life, leaving me unguarded

I closed the door, shivering with a renewed sense of myself

I curled under the blanket asking again the same questions that haunted me,

“Is this life real? Is this God real? Is love real? Is any of it real?”

The rain answered,

“Yes”.
They say growing up, everyone goes there separate ways.
you say were like a river flowing together,
you say one day our sacred river will stitch apart.
your probably right.
everything changes.
things come and go,
thats the simple yet difficult part in life.
I believe some rivers flow into the same ocean.
besides where all water anyways.
Candis Soul Apr 2019
As I walked over through the piles of people I came close
As I approached the love of my life I touched his back twice to get his attention
Looking to the left I could clearly see the sweat fall off other people
The faces of others.....so happy and drunk with love...literally
Finally, finally he saw me.
With our eyes finally gazing at each other and our hearts beating I felt his warmth as he hugged me
My soul was swept away by his loving eyes
As I began to talk he gazed at me and I spoke about 3 words then he just plunged his lips upon mine
5 seconds felt like eternity for me
It was as if all he wanted was that one last kiss. All he wanted was to feel my lips one last time
As we removed ourselves from each other I was still in his arms gazing up at him as he was looking down at me
I was taken back without a word
I could say nothing but stare up at him
His lip were warm and wet I could feel his spit in my mouth
May sound gross to you but glorious to me
Finally after realizing that we were staring too long he turned his attention to another and that was it
My last dance with my one true love
I don’t think I will ever have a moment like that again
The truth is I realized in that moment I still love him I never stopped
I will never love another like I love him.
Sparkles of beautiful butterflies in the wind
Cold and distant until that final kiss
shaqila Jul 2013
a quiet storm brews despite myself
within deep down treacherous grounds
longings yearnings wishing hoping
life's loud hoorah awaiting

quaking through the soul
like vibrations of old
lies the storm ready to unfold

meandering through valleys and hills
life's corners and curves
hitting a brick wall
now ready to fall with the wake
of the storm within
soon it will be monsoon again!
Inspired by the Gatorade drink flavor, 'Quiet Storm'! Thanks DC for the suggestion!
nivek May 2014
we stood bedraggled from centuries of history-
we the last humans-
went back to the sea
Annie Ramos Jan 2012
We keep saying it’s our last year, our last hoorah
But in truth it’s only the beginning of the rest of our lives
I know we are about to walk our separate paths
But we know that our paths are not far from each another
For if I look beside me there you will be
Like you always have been and forever will be

Years will pass and our paths will collide
We’ll retell our stories and unfold some new ones
And just when we seem comfortable our paths will divide
But don’t worry my friend for you will always be by my side
For our paths will run alongside one another and we’ll always be there
Because you have left an imprint in the deepest folds of my mind

So here’s to our year
To the many ups and downs
To remaining true friends
Even in our darkest hours
Our friendship will last
Many of years to come
So cheers to that and that’s my hoorah
Written in 2008 my senior year of high school to my best girlfriends as we got ready to embark on our college journeys. They are still some of my best friends.
Ron Peacock Jr Nov 2011
General.
Sir.
That is how you will identify me,
Hoorah?

I tell you what.
I am a soldier
But you?
You gotta earn your rights
To be privileged with such a title.
You get me maggot?
Fall in line, keep your lips locked.
Look me in the eye.
See any fear?
You shouldn’t, unless
It’s in your reflection.
You scrounge for this courage,
These cajones, that passion to surmount.
To get here, where I stand…

Here…
Can any of you maggots tell me
Where here is?
Anybody?
Are you even listening to me?
Where the hell are you going?
I never said at ease!
Sigh

I was an elite,
A soldier,
A leader.
Where here was the frontline.
The trenches, the beach head,
Africa, Stalingrad, O’ahu.
Now, here
Is found forgotten,
Lost in tragedy,
A false spectacle of hope,
Leaves me lost in this wicked dimension.
Clinches my soul.

Bang! Dust cover, flash
Dust cover, flash
Flash…
My senses.
Fading.
Into this abyss.
Leaving me here.
A ghost.
A spirit.
Please…
Bury me a soldier
Brian Pickering Mar 2017
The plumber came to call or The self-draining P’trap

To all the plumbers I have met, and yes I've met a few,
Domestic pipes, commercial pipes and civil pipe-work too,
Blow torch and solder, flux and joints,
Tricky bends and straight bits, in perfect counterpoint.

Then of course the big stuff, pipes bigger than your shoulders,
Not supplied by DIY, only bought from stockholders,
No solder for this job, a welding torch’s the thing,
Careful tack, align no crack, weld a perfect ring.

All the pipes are connected, whether large or domestic small,
Fill with water and pressurize, hoorah, no leak at all,
Flush the pipes, flow is fine, a job with a happy ending,
Pack the tools grab the kit, thank god I’ve finished bending.

The domestic user is dabbling, with a little pipe-work flair,
Can’t be that difficult, just one joint here, or the odd joint there,
All seems fine, fresh water in, waste water out,
I’m not going to spend money, on a plumber’s callout,
The waste seems not to drain well, gracious, how can that be,
I connected what I thought was right, no it can’t be me

It appears the waste pipe is blocked, gone are the comforting swirls,
This must be where the gooey stuff goes, and all those hairy curls,
I can clear the blockage, how difficult can it be,
Now, the water goes down the plug hole, around a wiggly bit, I see,
I think they call that a P-Trap, that’s all technical news to me
An old wire hanger, with force of water, will definitely do the trick
Plunge hanger down the hole, wiggle it round a bit, give it a flick,
The water hasn’t moved an inch, and the wire is firmly stuck,
Time to remove the P-trap, and deal with the unpleasant muck,
How difficult can this be, what could possibly go wrong,
Get the tools, lay on my back, this shouldn’t take too long,
Gripping trap tightly, with little effort it should unscrew,
Nothing moves, try again, it’s ****** tight, I think the thread’s askew,
A tap with my hammer, will loosen this stubborn joint,
No movement is detected, both sides are still conjoint,  
A mighty whack should do the trick, just to make my point,

A thin stream of water, is dribbling down my arm,
Success, I grab the trap, twist like merry hell, and to my alarm,
The stored bath water gushes out, the mood is far from calm.

Pushing the trap together again, trying to stem the flow,
A loud voice calls, from the dining room below,
What the hell are you doing, water’s all over my Chapeau.

Sorry my love, move your hat, it’ll be fixed in a trice,
Me thinks, If I don’t fix this very soon, I’ll need a flotation device,
Just a five minute job, am I kidding myself, my mouth is all agape,
I hunt around with my free hand, and grab the gaffer tape.

I unwind the life saver, and wrap it around the leak,
Let’s consider the situation, to avoid my wife’s serious fit of pique,  
Keep my mind focused, what could possibly go wrong,
A solution is required this very minute, that won’t take overlong.

I’ll wedge my hammer, beneath the troublesome trap,
This will give extra support, whilst my plan, I have time to map,
As I swung the hammer into place, there came a mighty crack,
A hole appeared in the bath end, I suffered a symbolic heart attack.

Time to call the plumber, and hang my head in shame,
My wife’s assessment of DIY, will never be the same,
Emergency call out was swift, a smiling youth at my door,
Lead me to the problem site, and I will probe and explore.

An estimate was made, whilst ******* air through his teeth,
What Pratt, he said, has been working on the trap beneath,
Is it bad, my wife has strength of a gorilla, it’s beyond belief,
I’m afraid it’s a bath, a trap and associated pipe work, good grief.

It’s going to be expensive, there’s the bath and tiling too,
I can’t do it straight away, but I’ll put you in the queue,
Said he was interested in the engineering feat,
Designing a self draining P-trap, was a little hard to beat.


A temporary repair was fashioned, with fiberglass and tape,
I cleared the mess around me, and quickly made an escape,
It was some days later, I thought I’d clear the gutters,
I could tell the family were not keen, by their groans and their mutters,
Not to be diverted, I disregarded all their ridicules,
I told the wife I’d start right now, but she’d locked away my tools.
Butch Decatoria Jun 2018
Mulling about
The muck
The haunts we are hardbound
Foggy fetal leavings by the sea
Right before the light;
The days of purple haze
Of sallow street cars, street lamp,  amped up
Yet dampened loss of desire
Pop another oxy-hydro-fire.

To be able
To muck about
With inner abandon
the abandonments deep
Numb battlements   / "Hoorah!"
Semper Fi the pain
Only significant
With derivatives
From ******* plantations
Opioid addiction’s contractually binding
Lingering love notes
A vice grip on idle minds

So many now that prey
But with a side affect of
Try holding in your ****
for three-plus days

So as not to feel
Not at all
Not even the rage
We keep anxiously pacing
Clawing at
Nonexistent strings
A Beast inside our cage
Forgiven by preacher men
Proclaiming to hallelujah
Change

At war with illusionist
Freedom
The boys fight for still
A country of patriotic pill poppers
Believing in heavenly kingdoms'
Healing
Secret silent pleading
Because nothing takes away
The pain
Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills

Self medicate down wind of will
If unaffected "consult your physician"
He’s at the edge of the stage
A Spearmint rhino making it rain
For Peaches
From patient list of his *******
The business of lust
Is feeding the loss of will
If you still feel lost -- and war sure did
Give them nothing but
PTSD & bad dreams
Machine gun migraines
Pop another pill
Jagged little killer
Softly knocks you off your feet
Black is cheaper
Smoke out not to feel

The muck-about days of
Constipated pains
Reader Digesting heavily,
Numbingly unreal.

Casualty of a nameless waste
That’s his deal / what it's like :
Most fecund
A life on the toilet
In wait for relief…
Get off the ***
Can't give a ****

Like this bowel movement
His heart has called it quits
To all this unholy *******!
Veteran
Patriot
Manhood’s defeat
Damnation

Mucking about...
Revised repost
Odysseus Nov 2015
There is a fair bit of you in every garden of my life.
Truly, that is nothing extraordinary, you should know it as objectively as I do.

Nevertheless, there is something I’d like to clarify:

When I say "in every garden”,
it is not only in relation to this of now,
this of waiting for you, of hoorah! i found you!, and ******! i lost you!,
and found again, and hopefully stops there.

Nor in regard of you suddenly telling me "I’m going to cry”,
then with a discrete lump in my throat "well go ahead”.
And then a graceful invisible rainfall arrives to assist us,
perhaps the reason the sun rises unhesitatingly right after.

I’m not just referring either
at the day-to-day fluctuation of the stock in our little decisive complicities,
or that I could or believe I can turn my deficiencies to victories,
or of you to bestow upon me the tenderest gift of your most recent despair.

No.
The situation is more serious.
When I state “in every garden” I mean to say that in addition to that sweet cataclysm,
you are also rewriting my childhood,
that age when one utters "grown up” and solemn phrases,
and the solemn grown ups celebrates them,
and conversely, you think of it irrelevant.

What I mean to say is,
you are reassembling my adolescence,
that time when I was an old man full of insecurities,
and contrarily, you know how to extract from there,
my germ of joy and consciously spread it.

What I mean to say is,
you are stirring my youth,
that vain vessel no one took hold of, that proud shade no one got close to,
and you on the other hand knows very well how to shake it
until the autumn leaves start falling
till there is nothing but the flesh of my triumphless truth.

What I mean to say is,
you are grasping my maturity,
that mixture of stupor and experience,
this unknown horizon of fear and certainty,
this relentless faith on my questionable strength.

As you can see, it is serious,
extremely more serious.
Because with these or different words,
I mean to say you are not only,
the dearest girl you are,
but also the splendid and cautious* women that I love and have loved.

Because thanks to you E, I have understood,
(you’d say it was about time, and with reason),
that love, is a beautiful and generous bay, that lightens and darkens as life goes by,
a bay where ships arrive and break away,
they arrive with blossoms and presages,
and they part with krakens and storm clouds.
A beautiful and generous bay where ships set down and then leave,

But E, you, please don’t leave.
Tryst Aug 2015
Between each sunrise
And each sunset,
A day will demise
And the world will forget

The dreams of the dreamers
Who struck ne'er a sail,
Who stowed away genius
For fear they might fail --

Raise up a fine banner,
Set course on a whim,
Be aloof in your manner
And never give in,

Shout 'Ahoy!' to each sunrise
And 'Hoorah!' at sunset,
It's the dream 'never dies
That the world can't forget.
Jordan Sep 2020
I
wanna
grab ya
by the hinds
and split
ya open
for a grande
Hoorah!
Cheeriness left me Monday.
Emotionless, I staggered at the news that,
the self proclaimed "The People's Poet" was dead.
In a crashing flood of emotion the 80's flooded back,
"Post Punk" Rick was no more.
Lord Flashheart was no more.
Alan Beresford B'stard was no more.
Drop Dead Fred had died.
Rik Mayall the comedian, actor, genius was no more.
No more catchphrases such as 'Hoorah' or 'Neeeeeiiiiillll'
No more, smashing frying pans into people 's faces,
No more ***** margarine, no more 'Bottom'
No more British anarchic, anti-establishment, alternative comedy.
My youth had died.
Getting old is quite simply a *******.
56 was too young.
But, never fear I do believe, that
"She has a tongue like an electric eel, and she likes the taste of a man's tonsils"
Will be engraved upon my heart, just for M'Lord! Woof!
© JLB
11/06/2014
On hearing of Rik Mayall's death.
Plain Jane Glory Jun 2013
To Death and You, the terrible two:

Can you feel your grip loosening around my neck?
Can you feel me getting lighter, smarter, farther all the time?
Can you feel my heartbeat finding its own pace,
Not matching yours, as it did before?

Can you feel me slipping into
Happiness    for a change?

We were once a Sisyphean process
Low ups and lower downs
We once were endless
Or so we thought

Can you feel my lightness overcoming your dark?
No longer in the shadows of the consuming unlit?
Do you think it’s true, what they say?
Do we not know what we have    until it’s gone?
I think so, not so much for you as for me
I didn’t know how much you held me down
Until I sailed the skies of the blissful unknown

This is one last hoorah for the lowest of lows
One last note to those I leave behind in the dark
One last toast to Death and You, my all-consuming terrible two
Ken Pepiton Apr 2019
I came to witness the future
Archon, archetype
an emanation of opposites.
"not every spirit is in
spiritarionic"

try 'em. Is God? Ax ye 'em dat.

Is God, ified, a re
warder of the unwarded,
or the warded?

expiration, due date duty, now,
reporting
ad hoc an'all, do you remember
who you intended
to become?

Do you remember who we emu
late, as our flames lick
next and next and next in
bubbles

axiomatic sparks stored in that
mother lode of mitochondriac
ical me-we-canicle chronicle time

reason. Ax dem ex-spirit-eers,
what is a spirtual bypass?

It's a heart way to avoid
growing old and
wise.

====
witchist, I y'know, 'r j?

alla words's once said, aloud, right?
alla words writ, once was heard, right.
check.
goodt'go. Hoorah.

the code. Who? RA! powerless sans
knowing that.
Yahoo, same set of mis con ceived
battle songs
which ended wars never fought.

the preacher claimed to have known
a poor wise man, who by his
wisdom saved a city, yet
not one of us knew,
the preacher said,
that poor wise man's name.

Ja', tha's who rah, ya'll laugh later.

this is visitation day at the comedian
rehabituational s'cool.

D'jew know why you listen to non sense,
from motley clad lads an'lassies?

Culture. Kultur. Gut biome axioms
juicin' carbs 'n' fiber. Fectin'

laughter trigger,
good meds. Good medicine, as General
Custer or Emory or somebody
said of blankets. In 1763. Oh,
You know, AI knows you know and now

we watch your eyes. Grin. All done, jest

let me with
draw the cathe.... there. All better.

Wisdom will seep through. Y'live.
Practicing precision lie belief extraction tools
George Anthony May 2016
the scent of you still clings to my sheets
and feelings confuse me
my skype history is a long list of confessions but my biggest secrets are still buried within me
i feel sick
i wish i could purge on self-hatred
i'll dig out these secrets for the sake of this poem, or ramble, or whatever it is
core myself on sharp shards of broken hearts - i have plenty to choose from
more fuel to the fire, my ever-burning hatred for myself
when will it consume me?
i feel sick

confession no.1
i just ate all of the chocolate in the fridge so it wouldn't have to stare me in the face any longer
swallowed it down like its sweetness didn't make me feel bitter
and followed it with a bowl of cereal as a last hoorah for my oncoming diet

confession no.2
i'm **** at this poetry thing
or at least that's how i feel

i can't even be good at something i love
how could anyone expect me to be good at loving?

confession no.3
right now, i feel nothing but resentment and hatred for my mother
her snide comment about my commitment to my therapy made me want to break her neck

confession no.4
i'm incredibly blunt, which is probably why i **** at poetry
i also haven't gotten my anger issues in check
today, on the bus, i imagined shooting this racist woman's head repeatedly and i was angry that i couldn't make her bleed

confession no.5
it's raining outside and i don't feel any calmer
perhaps it's just too mild for me when i feel this stormy
biting back torrential tears like not crying will somehow make me a stronger hurricane
but
i'm still not good enough to blow anybody away

confession no.6
i feel sick in every sense of the word
i kind of want to die
mike dm Jan 2015
You know how when you are eating oatmeal and it suddenly hits you that you are super full? You wanna finish it but you just can't.

And because of this, you sort of just take your spoon and mindlessly scoop up a heap of oatmeal only to then kinda twirl it around in your fingers and watch -mesmerized- anticipating the oatmeal's breach, its last hoorah over the edge of the spoon, like when you first chance a look past the warmly lit scaffolding of language, only to peer into a lidless unflinching abyss where the wires of "justice" or "truth" or "god" or "father" don't actually plug into anything really, dangling over a cliff to who-knows-where, and, after losing not only a staring contest but also meaning and purpose itself, you watch the oatmeal splat into your bowl?  

Well maybe it's not that melodramatic but you get me right?  You start to play with your food..

Well, that is kinda how I feel sometimes -- like unwanted excess oatmeal creeping over the edge of a spoon.  

I mean, not to sound annoyingly existential, but, really, what's the point?  I guess I could run that errand that I totally need to run but, ya know, entropy.

I mean I guess I could get out of bed and make something of myself but -really- I'm already half-dead.  I'm 32.  The average life expectancy for a male is 68.5 years old.  I am nearing that halfway mark, slowly but surely.  The bottom of the bowl awaits splat
  
That old saw plays over and over inside my head: we are all going to die; cease being here; away forever.  It is a mindfuck. We all pretty much have a preexisting condition of not-yet-dead --- and even with Obamacare that **** still will **** you dead.  

Read the fine print of life and you'll find: "um your molecules will start to **** soon, sorry"

Like an ocean tide, we come and go and no feelings will change that.  

The final It does not care - it just does, and then does not.

So, what's the point? Might as well say **** it..

But life.

But sunshine, a sudden warm glow of heat after the sun peers out from a passerby cloud amid a half-eaten blueberry sky. But the wonders of reflection, deep dives into the mind, delving, creative spurts gushing. But the rush of accomplishment of a simple stupid errand that you stupidly procrastinated over. But the big ******* to shoulda's when you get **** done. But the gradual respect of fear, not giving into it but not running away from it, facing up to it, going through it, letting it have it's say and do its worst, letting it teach you. But ***, really ******* good *** where you *** so ******* hard it makes you laugh out loud afterward cos you can't even believe that such a feeling could ever exist. But the being OK about the tears that don't come, that elusive big cry that as a child made you feel like a renewed self, purged from the fires of this strange new world you were still getting used to; and now made all better, brand new, scrubbed, ready to go again, ready to play. But the nostalgia from something as small as a smell, stabbing you so perfectly that you could swear you were back there.
Shin Apr 2021
A final hum of the furnace quivers;
its flame casts solitude in sharp relief.
A pondering pledge of endless bitters.
The final moments of endless belief.

We arrive at the dawn of the sixth moon.
Seven and twenty years frozen in time.
A hatchet comes down, its time shall come soon.
Finally, we reach the end of this rhyme.
where is the honor in leaving
to go and never look back
to know that they are alone and hurt
to fight a battle all alone

where is your soul
what are you planning to do
knowing you let there life go
knowing they were your help

time and time again
you will here less Hoorah's
you will lose your back up
you won't have your team

the team you had is gone
they were all left behind
you hear of the victories
from other teams' battles

then listen to the story
listen to the fall of my team
we all died together
for we followed our special code

*no one gets left behind!
Inspired by the song No One Gets Left Behind by Five Finger Death Punch
slick white tile
I crash again
water droplets run from my hair
to my feet
and swirl down the drain
in one last hoorah

No matter how much I scratch
rub or claw
the **** that surrounds my skin
will never come loose

down the drain goes
my love for people
my trust in you and
thoughts and feelings
that used to make me smile

someone cleanse me this ick
make me pure again
remove the soil from my heart
and start anew

or turn me into something beautiful
where the dirt remains in my chest
make me a garden
water me, give me plenty of sunshine
and I will forever devote myself
to living, breathing and existing once more
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
i went from being 77kg
to being 115kg,
add that to your Newtonian
concept of gravity via
jenny dinski;
comrade Kane rather
than citizen, and we just about
buried Stalin next to the
new age mummy of Lenin;
so hoorah ******* Ra: an iron eagle
to boot, pecking the hairs of
Jesus' rubric of the monkish crowns
of abbreviated hairlines, receding,
or if not receding then encapsulating
a chanced oasis; still the monks though;
and given the Templars... trouble,
either militant Islam revisionism
or Baphomet idolatry to counter
homosexuality.
Kon Grin Jun 2017
She's a fragrance
Bottled in my mind's
Peripheral scribes.
My tutorial on how to stand

And my spine is giraffe's neck or,
Fixed-be-not, the Pisa Tower.
And I'm bound to be lower
But she hits my back and stirs me forth.

Liquid paper, solid gold
She's a gas of dizziness,
Though a simpler boy
You could never find on earth.

She's a quarrel in a body,
Younger muse for my hoorah.
Like the Russians say,
Blood and milk. However, in the case,
Porridge and strong coffee.
My perfected
Oh, my tailored
Healthy diet for the mind state.
Spanish verse and friendship
Ben Heart Mar 2021
Sights worthy of immortalisation
A play of wonder
A canvas of colors
Clouds of cotton
A woman’s elation
Caught in thread
She hides behind the storm
Indigo waves washing over
With them soar the starlings
Clouds with a life of their own
Soldiers of the sun behind the curtain
A symphony of luminance
In their final hoorah against the twilight
Soon the dome will be covered
By a blanket of black
Interrupted by startling beauty of her own
The migration of the great
The truly unattainable
So foreign and so far
A universal similarity
The unforgiving muse
The twisted reality
That beauty in a single moment
Is so easily erased
Should we not know how to paint
Butch Decatoria Sep 2016
To mull about

The haunts we are bound

Foggy cemeteries of cubic square feet

The days of purple haze

Of sallow street cars, street lamp, lamp light

Loss of desire

Pop another oxy-hydro-fire

To be able

To muck about

With abandon the abandonments

Numb battlements   / "Hoorah!"

Numb the pain

With derivatives

From ******* plantations

Lingering ghosts on our minds

So many now we prey

But with a side affect of try

Holding in your **** for three plus days

So as not to feel

Not at all

Not even the rage

We keep and hold inside our cages

Proclaiming to hallelujah

Freedom

We fight for the countries

And mystic kingdoms' reign

Because nothing takes away

The pain

Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills

Self medicate down wind of will

If unaffected "consult your physician"

At the edge of the stage making it rain

The business of death

If you still feel -- and war will

Give you bad dreams and migraines

Pop another pill

Jagged not to feel

The muck-about days of

Constipated steel

Numbingly unreal...

This is what it's like : life on the toilet.

Get off the ***

Can't give a ****

Like this bowel movement

My heart has called it quits

To all that unholy *******.
So this is it ,new beginning,a chance to start again,
let cupid bring me luck,fire up the laptop,lets take a look,
create my profile ,here we go ,twenty quid ,on with the show,
upload my photos ,best choose well ,oh I look good on these,
you cannot tell ,at 49 looking fine ,own hair and teeth ,she will be mine.
Oh who"s viewed me ,she seems ok ,but 240, k away !, why bother looking silly mare, I need you here ,not over there ,she looks ******, she looks rough ,big tattoos,and one tooth .
Ah but she has made stop in my tracks ,a pretty lady ,read the facts,she has done this, likes that,expects this, but not that,to me she is a good bet ,**** photo with   hair  wet, send a chat ,send a chat ,talk about his ,talk about that ,we get on ,oh hoorah ,be nice to meet her one day.
But she is a star and I just the moon,still she makes my heart swoon.

— The End —