"humorously" poems
My face tells me nothing. Not nothing but nothing useful,
the complications of ageing humorously but not how to avoid
injury.
Permanent injury is a now popular cliché. At this age any injury
could result in pneumonia, pain in bitterness for your peers,
your jury.
What a headache I have! And never forget injury provokes
at best only pity. Friends are merely friendly, they belong to the
majority.
They forget your name and so should you, who are you? Even you
don't know for sure. In relation to community, no change was noted in
the
registry.
Still, man's mercy, economy's ecology, there's some joy in being small,
some joy in staying strong, and keeping death before you without
perjury.
Unsafe to run the wind. A big stick might hit your head. Then
the hip and heart and head will hurt, all three. Un-
fortunately.
I like a strong wind. Dangerous to go out in. As a fire or flood.
I like the way we are at risk, not a risk-averse weasel. A carnivore,
very hungry.
Pay money, take chances. Yo's an elegant contraction of you.
Cool. Message from street to board: mongrels rule. Democracy or
tyranny.
Scared to die? Why? Take appropriate measures, descend through
meditation. Be empty, rest. And to your friends and sons be as
gravity.
Tired of death. It's what it is. Let's play sports, have *** kayak
to the huckleberries, fish for marvelous fish, live a wonderful life, give
generously.
Done blowing, O wild wind? Not yet? So be it. I lay my head
in your felt hands. The motion of the branches, evolutionary branches,
are my
guarantee.
That's all folks, 7:30. The sky is clear, the crows are out. The clouds
are with my mood commensurate. I should shout, having lived
prodigiously.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
And we return back to square one:
where windows are grilled and
hierarchy is based on what you wear.
where movements are restricted but
thoughts run wild without restrains.
A square is not a circle.
But yet,
Acts like one.
Things come in full circle.
Life is humorously ironic.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 5:38 AM UTC
Here hails a huge, long and dragonish snake,
With myriads of dangerous heads on its thorax,
Roaming up and down in a nefarious duty
All over the African streets and hamlets,
Villages and terrains, the abodes of poor folks,
Swallowing daughters and sons of this land,
Swallowing a handful of them on each bite,
They are in a forlorn despair like never before,
Defenselessly succumbing to the dragon once in the grip,
Young and old, prebubescent and all others are cancers’ fodder,
Africa is truly diminishing to the abysmal jaws of cancer,
Forget of initial vices of *** Ebola and leprosy,
Forget of the contemporary terrorism and ethnic warlordism,
Cancer is ruthlessly swallowing poor folks of Africa
Into its inferno of early deaths, rendering many parentless,
A knot for the living to put aside pride and seek genuine help,
For the myriad heads of dragonish cancer violently **** the prey,
I have seen sons and daughters of poor Africa in cancerous agony,
Often with a blocked food pipe when in the grip of throat cancer,
Non-stop vaginal bleeding at mercilessness of cervical cancer,
In the torture of brute pulling weight in grip of scrotal cancer,
On the top of maximum pain in the grip of breast cancer
Humorously desperate before menacing eyes of death,
When misfortunately in the grip of heart cancer,
Deathly starvation condemns many poor folks to grave,
Always when in the unlucky tentacle of intestinal cancer,
In this desperate land of Africa where basic hospital
Stands a luxury, affordable by the rich in the political class,
As the poor without choice die and die and die,
O who will take me out of Africa, this nonchalant Africa?
Before the dragon of cancer condemns me down to its
Inferno of pains and miserably violent death!
I fear death due to punctured lungs without solace,
I fear death due to stunted blood cells without succor
I fear death due to poisoned blood without palliative
When the cancerous heads of ; lung cancer, blood cancer,
And Liver cancer will besiege this land of Africa to hold me a captive.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 5:42 AM UTC
humorously ludicrous.
the lunar rock flickering
& all that
co$mic glitter
pulsating
almost saying
I should return to the
wretched place
whence I came.
phoning home.
captivated
the moon's only reflecting
radiation from the sun
& some of those ancients
thought that ball of gaseous hell
was god himself.
I am now these clouds
of heaven chemicals &
other toxic emissions &
I am in awe of all of this.
there was an epic in the sky
& unfortunately I am limitied by
a lack of understanding of the
technical jargon.
the sad fact is to me
real ideology is not possible
& nothing but impractical knowledge.
.... and I don't follow.
I'm afraid
I don't follow
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC
My patience is exasperated
So negative connotations
Are analytical advice, on a diagram of ******
for life as AnNotation
Used as emphatic confirmation
That my formations deformed,
so be warned, you won't be warmed
by hearing I've conformed
To be socially reborn or Reformed
no Solubility just scorn
Death of Altruism not reborn
My attempt to succeed is Forlorn
****** without pleasure like ****
With an actress who's *****
Unable to reject the amorous nature
Of the advancement taking place
Only to try to post placate
But u can't humorously play hate
That's like calling date ****
a play date, and tho karma may take
Action a day late
It'll subtract your pay rate
And I try to listen when they say wait
Otherwise I Trade faith
For fortune so pray fate
Has Infallibility and acts
With revenge and intends to ignore
Its Sanctification on your behalf
But without assured Omniscience
Or Predestination I'm left
Wit bitter taste from various Mongrels
so nefarious I wish for death
Developing an Aversion to breath
A Discrepancy now remains
Some say lifes a gift and it contradicts
when I say it's inhumane
A reality based on haste purgatory
Where narcissists splurge on glory
And act like a real life purging story
living to fill their urge for gory
Temptations and never hoarding
Desires to control with moderations
like earths resource no Conservation
But this is just my Observation
Or maybe there's no correlation
and I just **** a curation
Maybe my pessimisms Pervasion
Has damaged me for the duration
Of life never to vacation
From my imprisoned state
So internally conflicted I'm eternally
Restricted to unsolicited hate
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
You don't know what you got
'till it's gone.
As clichéd and overused a phrase
as anything I have ever heard.
And God, how I hate writing the clichéd.
But as true, is true, is true
you really don't know ****
until it leaves you.
Humorously enough though,
and I mean humorously in the most
ironic, sad-sacked way possible
it was I who broke it off.
In a nice way?
Hell no.
It was an over-the-phone
go **** yourself
that at the time I laughed at.
Well I still do.
But that's only when
I'm not looking at those
******* facebook photos
of her with another guy.
Sometimes I don't understand
my own sense of humor.
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 3:59 AM UTC
In the unbroken smoke, where the cream on the coffee can choke
an unwary cat
that's where I'm at.
I didn't look for it,book it,get this life at cost,so **** it,
I never asked to be here,
the price I must pay is too high and I fear I will die.
The sanatorium,
humorously called a
gated community where
electrodes are placed on my brain,
is that normal or sane?
what kind of people are these?
I can walk as I talk with the trees in the garden that's known
as Gethsemane
where I feel all alone but know that nurses are tailing me.
The smoke drifts away
there'll be no shocking me today.
Napoleon comes by and he waves and says 'Hi'
I say,
'not yet'
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 5:25 AM UTC
Tuesday, off-day of this world.
Pale faces ignore the sideways
Skewered poles of the symphony
That we so attentively abhor.
These hands are not weapons,
They are tools. My world,
And the one I share it with is handled
Through them.
Because of them, I can be a part
Of you.
I like to make indistinguishable shapes-shapes with tissue paper that lies around.
I like what my thorax makes, those unintelligible sounds.
Starting in or below my abdomen.
I hope death finds me
With this silly note in my hand.
I hope death understands,
It's fun to not be all that might-yee. To be a layman,
To fully and humorously
Understand just what it is
To have wiggle room.
In the eyes of god I want to be Slime.
In the eye of dog,
I am sublime.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
exasperated, emasculated,
So the negative connotations
From life's ****** molestation,
**** from this Annotation
emphatic, tragic confirmation
That my formations deformed,
so be warned, u won't be warmed by hearing I've conformed
To be socially Reformed
Reborn, no Solubility of scorn
No Altruism, so Imprisoned
is peace's vision, Forlorn
****** but pleasure like ****
Isn't a focus, so like ****
I'm Unable to reject the amorous nature
Of what will take place
But I fail as I try to placate
Or humorously play hate
But that's like calling date ****
just an innocent play date
when we're ****** for pay day
Catching Freedom in an Infallible trap
Leaving memories, both enemies, and remedies, when flashing back
But without Omniscience, it seems
Only Predestination Is left
Wit bitter taste of self hate,accepting fate,
now only death
can stop the new Aversion to breath
Causing a Discrepancy to remain
Some say lifes a gift to contradict
all i insist is inhumane
A reality based on haste, hate,
A purgatory Where narcissists
Prove that ignorance is bliss,
cuz happy Usually r ignorant as ****
Or maybe there's no correlation
and I just **** at curation
Maybe pessimisms Pervasion
Has damaged me for the duration
Of life never to vacation
From rigid Dichotomies like
Believing in prophets or profits
Or what's legal and wuts right
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 3:06 AM UTC
Sometimes I say hallo to people…
and nobody says hallo back.
Sometimes I smile for people...
and see no one smiling back...
Sometimes I post romantically,
Sometimes I post humorously,
Sometimes I post religiously
Yet, nobody ever responds… Ironically,
Sometimes I write letters to one of my mutuals,
Talking about us, how wrong we went,
How sad we felt, how much joy we shared,
How we promised each other’s future.
Sometimes I make a bond fire from those letters,
Sometimes I hug those very flames to remember the warmth I once felt from her embrace.
Sometimes I look at my burn marks,
And I realize, she was just a flame that embraced me,
and left some scars so I would remember her…. Sometimes…
Jan 31, 2023
Jan 31, 2023 at 11:27 PM UTC
To all at Hello Poetry!
So many poems are written to woes.
I challenge you all to write humorously,
lift my spirit.
Make me laugh, because I am in need of, laugh.
I create now a category a challenge to smile for.
Post and create
and all smile!
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
I may not be A girl thats pretty
But for me please have no pity.
For I have personality that is humorously witty.
I may not be wealthy but I am spiritually
Healthy.
I may not have the perfect teeth
But thats the exterior for I am the interior person that lies underneath.
In your opinion I may not be worthy of your loyalty.
But its ok because My God Treats me Like Royalty
Loving and spoling me
Greater is He that Lives within thee
Whom protects the treasure locked in my heart Because he holds the key.
I may not have the most most beautiful smile.
But I have hidden gifts with an artistic style.
I'm A free spirited juvenile my life is poetry expressed in the form a freestyle
Im a person of many coats I like to call it being versatile.
My people are rare we only happen once in a while.
Now
As you point out every single blemish
Just Know That My God is Not Finsished.
No Im not person that is hollier than thou
For a made a promise, I took a vow
So To my majestic Savior humbly I bow.
To Gaze upon his glory
As he stands before me
So pure And holy
I may not be The person you think I should Be
But Im Yah's Creativity made Imperfectly in his Image fearfully and wonderfully.
It its little things and The joy it brings.
I May not be a lot alot of things
But I am the A child of The Most High King
Spiritual unique personality is what I have to bring while God's love serenades you as it sings.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 12:14 PM UTC
No, I never stay long
but you'll always know where I've been.
You'll hear my favorite song
and feel my presence within.
I've been so many new places,
an extensive list of things to do-
always leaving my traces,
Maybe one day you'll stand in my point of view.
Clover patches spawn on the outside
whenever I show up anew.
Do they remind you of times
when I've lied,
or all the silly dreams I confided in you?
I always seem to leave my mark,
flecks of green where they ought not be.
Bright neons light up the dark,
recentering some focus back to me.
Or maybe it's more of a haunting-
to be reminded of my soul,
to always be found is so daunting
when vanishing fully has been my goal.
What if I don’t want to be remembered?
I want to fade away in the void.
All evidence lost in the embers,
my sounds fading into background noise.
It’s not really me they hold close,
just a version that once was truth-
a humorously passionate nostalgic dose,
forgetting how I’m so uncouth.
I don’t want to be a good memory,
for those I’m trying to forget,
a snippet when I was the remedy
until I only made them upset.
Now I live in signs,
subtly in dreams,
even déjà vu at times-
things aren’t always as they seem.
If I am to be unforgettable,
if I must cross your mind,
I hope the thought is regrettable,
and slowly eats at you for a period of time.
To haunt is to be haunted,
and tortured I have been-
false futures, I’ve been taunted,
clearing caches within.
Never once have I destroyed a
pathway completely,
but this one must come down.
I’m drunk and rambling quite indiscreetly,
and your memory makes me frown.
I hope the thought of me spoils your day,
stirred up from a simple coffee -
looped in remembrance like
cursed decay,
and I the leading zombie.
Aug 12, 2025
Aug 12, 2025 at 11:17 AM UTC
there’s a clear distinction between getting what you want
and wanting more than what you can get, she says,
kneeling in front of a piping hot kettle and a small bowl
accompanied by a humorously small bamboo whisk.
Bug-Eye looks at me. the meaning of a sentence is lost in the hexes of her wings, her spindly thin abdomen, the way her fragile limbs twitch.
she tries to smile. she doesn’t. i turn to the murky pool in front of me, losing myself in the way the petals relax on such a delicate surface. the air is thick with heat. i collect more than enough sweat upon my forehead.
you need not ask for more than what you have. nor ask for less than what you deserve.
but why? my reply lingered between us like an afterthought.
why ask when you could have more? the clink of china, the unsteady stirring irritates me with her ungraceful, jerking movements. Bug-Eye relaxes. silence. the grove is clear.
she turns the cup in her hands, once, twice, thrice; her spindly fingers tracing the grooves of a world not yet explored. her eyes watch me closely. all five hundred of them. i turn away
to watch how the koi fish do not swim through the water, but
become stagnant in a place the water feels best.
we kneel on the grass, sipping the green tea as quietly as one can. that is all i am left with.
perhaps this is the reason why i do not ask for more;
nor deserve any less, because
we simply are given with all that we need.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 3:07 PM UTC
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight
And let that page come out of you—
Then it ill be true
Will it be that easy?
White, weird and sixteen
Growing up in New York City
Where moments flicker by like a dream.
Middle school says life’s ahead
While city commutes blend together.
With brief respites to a Vermont house
Having nature’s bounty out the window.
Though daily, I have only a poor rectangle substitute.
Though I see the world in its immensity,
What I’ve seen are mere trips from my city.
All the while striving to find meaning in this chaos,
But ending up being lost in the sauce.
I enjoy gaming, idle chat and to humorously play
Though mostly with friends who live so far away.
But after I go to see them,
My memories slowly fade away.
They come to see me in my abode.
Concerts, cards and killer jokes
To pass the time between visits,
I listen to a multitude of books.
Something is lost with them on tape,
I'm told.
But convenience is something that it holds
During art classes full of concentration
Where I can get lost in the rhythm of their words
I seem to think I lose touch with conversation
But I think to save it
For those I love the most.
To my friends who are my brothers
I look to them-
To give me hope: For a life to still have meaning.
Some have it inherent,
Others shrivel up without it,
Some find it in responsibility,
But for me,
It is in those people whom I connect with the most.
This is my page for English 6.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
Books are indeed work insatiably
For those who think hourly;
Hours are not fit in humorously
In the timeframe of honoree
Of books as they work icily
In the warm world’s ivory.
Books really slog matchlessly
For those who value immensely.
Hence friends! Value the ministry
Who control the Money’s mockery.
Books are indeed work insatiably
For those who think hourly.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 7:58 AM UTC
Me, a monster
Arises from darkness
Yearning for understanding
Abandoned by hope
Always trying
Never enough
Giving up slowly
Even told good
Lies, all lies
Illustrated by evil artists
Caring was never enough
Always more
Mutilated by thoughts
Untouched, but in pain
Ebbing away
Lonely, and yet
Loved in every way
Ever confused
Rest in peace
Me, a monster
Awarded no honor
Yielded by darkness
Aided by madness
A demon, so evil
Named humorously, the devil
Glimpse into the depth of my mind
Ebb into the blackhole unlike any other kind
Laced with venom, words are thrown inside
Infecting all that was sublime
Chipping the good away slowly
Alluring to the insanity
Macabre disaster, savage freak, cowardly *****
Unnervingly weak
Elusive ***
Lackluster ****
Laughably impulsive
Ever repulsive
Rest in pieces
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC