"humungous" poems
Today, I’m sharpening arrows
to aim them at
politicians with snouts in the trough,
clerics who preach peace for themselves
but hatred about others,
academics who promote freedom of speech
but run a Gulag Archipelago
for those who don’t follow their own ideas
or buy their textbooks,
hypocrites everywhere,
celebrities in general,
people who don’t smile,
people who aren’t nice,
(why are they here?)
fanatics, tyrants and power mongers,
(there are a humungous lot of these)
boring people,
(they wouldn’t be boring
if they could just try to engage a little more)
and those who block supermarket isles
with their trolleys while they stop and gossip.
I’d really like to put a few arrows in their butts
to puncture their pretensions and hear
the subsequent hiss of preciousness
unless they sincerely promise
to be more considerate
and try to love a whole lot more.
Now. I don't insist they have to love prodigiously,
but I reckon they could lighten the **** up
just a little, and try to laugh more frequently.
That's all.
Mike T Minehan
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 1:29 PM UTC
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKPEOfybQak&feature;=related
*Remember his name when you look at the night sky.
- the Toe-cutter*
You are the Night Rider,
a fuel-injected suicide machine,
a rocker, a roller,
a no-controller,
yer a cop killer,
the mighty weird hand of vengeance
come to smite the un-roadworthy.
You, Night Rider,
clearly unaffected
by the state’s urgings
to “yield” and, perhaps,
“soft shoulder”.
You are the Night Rider,
sleeping in on a Tuesday,
performing your masculinity
in unshowered, unshaved machissmo.
Night Rider,
won’t you come to your senses?
Nobody enjoys maniacal laughter
anymore.
It makes us think of ****
covered in fleas, bedbugs,
whiskey ****
or Janis,
and the last moments of an American Saigon.
Ahh… Night Rider,
we share your machine lust,
your fetish,
your hard-on for the muscle-bitch,
the suped-up hot rod,
the last of the V-8 Interceptors
(1973 Australian Ford XB Falcon GT).
We, too, like a nitrous kit,
a roof and tail spoiler,
we likes our flat black:
………....................our murderous speed
………..........................has driven daddy to drinkin’.
We ride!
Night Rider, we understand.
We get the lurid infatuation,
but, **** yer a hick-weed,
all these roads lead to jail
–how have you not grasped this simple truth?
The highway is not freedom,
but a circular slave song.
Oh, rider of the night,
why all the re-runs of Seinfeld?
And cheese bread?
You’ve grown a belly, N.R.,
and while it might be glam
to be young, dumb
and full of ***
or all muscle
in butt-less chaps at 21,
you’re 45, Night Rider,
and no-one cares anymore
about your straight-line revolution,
about your road to freedom,
about it,
about what kind of future
you and Floosie would’a made.
The kids are alright
but
they ain’t never heard
of you
nor your last,
wild-eyed flight.
As the Lord Humungous has indicated,
no one
gets out
alive.
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
Humungous pupils.
Little girl.
Attempting to realize the ways of the world.
Sinning and spinning,
she twists and she twirls,
Through the tornado that fate seems to whirl.
So sure of herself,
yet quite the mess.
Eager to learn and quickly progress.
She lays awake in constant distress,
pondering humanity's stress to impress.
How on Earth are we all alive?
Buzzing around this big beehive.
Working for life then turning to dust.
Just for the honey, our bodies we bust.
Investing our trust in invented ideals.
Shunning away what's important and real.
What ever happened to "see, touch, and feel?"
We're worshipping paper, and mountians of steel.
Our slates were clean the day we were born.
From magazine pages, our knowledge was torn.
We were taught by Barbies and trucks to conform.
And we learned about love through movies and ****
But imagine a life without fiction and wealth.
We'd all be forced to act as ourselves.
Without influence or image to compare and contrast,
we'd have less confusion about how we should act.
A society raised on make believe.
Injected with *** diamonds, and greed.
Living our lives on borrowed time,
and filling the spaces with Marlboros and wine.
But then again, I'm just a girl,
with humungous pupils in a made up world.
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 7:30 PM UTC
You're alive, but are you really living?
You have your head wrapped around your phone. You burry your face in your pillow every night, thinking about every problem you have to face the next morning. You're facing yourself in the mirror wondering how in the world you will cover that humungous blemish that made itself at home in the middle of your forehead.
Now, let me ask why.
Why do trivial things like this matter?
They don't.
In those precious moments, you have missed so many great things...
You were too busy on your phone to see the way the sun rises so beautifully in your bedroom window. You were so caught up in your own problems that you forgot to look around and see all the problems the world has solved. You were so entranced in the mirror, focusing on that blemish that you failed to notice your beauty, your self worth.
Now, let me ask you again.
You're alive, but are you really living?
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
My tongue is on fire
And stuck am I, in a mire
Dangling like a carrot
And waiting to be devoured
Is some rather delicious food
Unfortunately, I am not in the mood
Because, every time I take a bite
My ******* tongue puts up a humungous fight
Locking me up in a torture chamber
And thus filling me with loads of anger
How dare you do this to me, O darned tongue?
Do you think I am a piece of dung?
My tongue is on fire
And it does not care
How hungry I am
Serious, it gives not a ****
Set before me, is a mouthwatering meal
However, becoming am I, rather dull
As I struggle and struggle
My tongue pulling me into deep trouble
Slowly, do I begin to think
That, desperately do I need a drink
Thus, do I consume an entire bottle of water
However, just as I begin to feel better
That infernal tongue throws tantrum after tantrum
Thus spelling my doom
Predictably, coming to my rescue is a sweet
Dear Diabetes, soon we may meet!
My tongue is on fire
However, beginning am I, to fight
Because, I give up not, so easily
And I DO take the doctor's advice seriously
However, my tongue ends up having the last laugh
Since all those medicines are apparently not enough
To prevent me from being forced
To make a few sacrifices
When it cometh to food
Which again spoils my mood
Moreover, just when the situation seems to be getting back to normal
Dinner turns out to be quite the ordeal
Not for the first time
And definitely not the last
I even wonder if I should fast!!
My tongue is on fire
However, as mentioned before
Never do I give up easily
Dear tongue, for now you may smile nastily
However, soon will the tables be turned
And then YOU are gonna be doomed
Enjoy your time while it lasts
And NO, I will NOT fast
No matter how many tricks you may have up your sleeve
Victory you are not gonna achieve
Never again!!
Jan 13, 2024
Jan 13, 2024 at 12:30 PM UTC
I wish to write you the most beautiful thing you've ever read
I want to burn it into your mind and engrave it into your soul
I want that to be the only thing that I leave behind when I no longer exist
No tears for tomorrows which I have missed just one piece
Of words flowing with emotions packed to the brim with the stuff of dreams and overflowing energy
I want it to be my name
I want to give it to you and you alone
I want you to mumble it in your sleep I want you to quote it in your dreams I want it to be the single most inspirational thing you've ever seen
I want it to be better than the artwork at a museum
I want it to be deeper than the concept of human emotions
I want it to shine brighter than the stars and I want it to be there
Forever
In your arms
Not in your hands
Because I want you to embrace it all night and day because my existence will one day fade away
And I don't want to think back
Last second wondering why
I ever held back from you
When you are the world before my eyes
So I want you to know that no matter where I go I want that poem to procede me in utters and mumbles and for no-one to hear it
I want to be able to smile and mean it
I want to give my soul to that poem
I want to put all that I've got and give what's not mine to give in that poem
I want you to be in its finest lines and contours
I want it to paint the subtle image
Of you and your smile
I want it to mean as much to you as the whole world entire
I want it to be so much that I feel sometimes that I cannot aspire to reach this humungous goal
But
If I wait for the world to take action so I can start to move
I'm afraid I won't even be a small fraction of what started to move
I'll be playing along and that's not right
So I want to give you this poem before my life begins
Because so far I'm existing and I've got so much left to give
So
I want to get rid of it all
And lay it in arms I can trust I want to label it off as
"Something I must"
And I want life to begin shortly after I write it
And my existence will fade
And it will be called progress I'll give you this much and then make a promise
To never hold back and not only go forward
But
Learn from the past and keep going onward
So
I can feel right in myself
When I see your smile
When I hold you in my arms and whisper things like a child
I must write the greatest thing I'll ever make
And I hope it will make you smile
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 4:03 PM UTC
This day was an absolute Wonder for me
I saw all of my Friends i’ve been Dying to see
the Sun shined so bright, i could Hardly Believe
This place is for Me, i don’t want to leave
From the Time i layed eyes on their Smiling Faces
I couldn’t stop thinking how Perfect this place is,
The energy is Love that is floating amung Us
So small on a map, But in our Eyes, humungous
This place is My World, it is where i Belong,
These Freinds are my people, our Bonds, so strong
i’ve been around the World now, and Still do i feel
that In This place, the love that I feel, This is real..
Through sharing these Days with my Freinds, We Reveal
This Laughter, This Love, This Life... This is Real.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 1:33 AM UTC
Will someone ever understand me?
As simple as it sounds, the word ‘understanding’ is an uncanny term. To expect understanding from others is like a screaming paradox that uninvitingly and inevitably gives its RSVP. Definition of understanding varies from person to person. While some term ‘compatibility’ as basic understanding, others think understanding as a means to gain affirmation. Both interpretations sound alike but in fact very much like bibliophile and bibliomaniac. It gets peculiar as we proceed.
Why in this world do we need affirmation?
It’s profoundly queer to ask for acceptance. Do we really need ‘approval’ for our existence? We’re not illegal. Illegal things require approval. Drugs require consent. We don’t need to prove why we should be accepted. Giving heed to such a peculiarity is equivalent to symbolising yourselves as illegitimate. You have a birth certificate. You’re a registered citizen of a country and you have a house to live. You go to school/college/ work. You’re normal. Believe me, you’re not a felon.
Why don’t people fulfil our expectation?
Major Irony Alert. Expectations being fulfilled is, I believe, one of those rare miraculous occurring in our lives. When people get it, they find the solace hard to digest. Just when they are faintly ready to accept it, they change the course the things by doing deeds to blindly adhere to the balance of sad and happy. And when the ruination has been already done, they crave for it. Dear fellow beings of earth, stop expecting. It’s purely a hypothesis. The permanency of the damage expectations leave behind needs no explanation. It’s one of the most obvious and self-explanatory dictum on this planet.
People around me crave for being accepted. Girlfriends incessantly complain about their boyfriends not understanding them and vice versa. Parents lament over the ignorance their children. Children whine about the gap between them and their parents. People spend humungous cash to buy endurance. The reasons for such acts, I don’t reckon.
There’s an old African belief that hovers around the truth of being singularities. I find it deeply humbling. Why ask for plurality when the sole purpose for our creation was to be singular and fulfilling.
The purpose for this entry is to some extent not defined to what I believe. It is not meant to mould you. It is meant to be analysed by you. Critique it. Make your own moulds. It’s just what the existing needs.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
Perfect nights with bright, star-dotted skies,
Become the sharpest of daggers for his shrunken eyes,
Still, sparkling lakes teeming with green-headed duck,
Silences his head and leads him to peace? Does it ****
Humungous, wooden giants standing sternly in place,
But everywhere he looks he sees your face,
Watching bright birds glide higher and higher,
Never able to distract the fact he’s just a liar,
Rolling, flowered hills as far as eyes can see,
Could never null my hate for me.
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
twas the bright idea of zee missus aye air
and dedicate this poem
(yes tis correct, if you bare
lee remember this mister
did formerly she push duck clear
addressed said spouse
"my little buttock blaster" en dear
ment - for obvious reasons,
and before she begat two 'ere
rip press ably lovely daughters),
anyway thee wife I fear
to publicize contracted a benign
strain sans incurable glare
ring housecleaning malady
(thus far no unpronounceable hair
raising name affixed
to non contagious nonetheless
accursed malady,
whereby to keep at bay,
scrubbing stubborn stains
from clothes, dishes,
and gamut of hibernating
Ursine horde (nee motley crue)
that come breathing alive
Nsync with beastie Bay
City Rollers Culture Club bing babes
upon first spring day
engrossed in this, that,
or some other sweeping floor foray
(analogously to Velveteen Rabbit)
shedding gray
winter coat when warmer temperatures arrive,
where humungous fur clumps would lay
comprising sudden empty raft
of shelf space minus a may
zing globules, oh...lemme get on track,
whence frenzied fever "cleaning bug" nee
major virus afflicting wife,
would necessitate impossible task
strapping former
feisty Norwegian farm gal
in straight jacket ivingsocial every
would be no game to play
boot tiring and cruel task of her life Yukon say
24/7 daily challenge,
which unpredictable timeframe
thine remaining lifetime sans wife oye vay
would frank lee zap
every last oomph of mine
if able twin door remaining with spouse
meanwhile 'til she obliviously
plucks persistent sprouting stranded follicle
tiller broad forehead resembles
a minuscule tarmac way.
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 11:32 PM UTC
The serpentine and ageless liquid
mercurial possessed snake
eternally swallowed
since the beginning of time
one unquenchable thirst to gorge and slake
slurping up an icy cold mountainous pebbly shake
yet fresh as an irish spring
using thy tongue o gaelic spake
then tumbling down into the cavernous abyss
subsequently carving
a deep criss cross patchwork
across the rock hard rugged topography
like the handiwork of some invincible force
commandeering a humungous rake
affixing legendary signature
quasi-indelible grooves
only for the near indomitable
chiseled masterpiece
to be erased, twisted then wrenched
by that natural landscape altering phenomena
identified as an earth quake
creating a fresh tabula rasa to begin anew
inviting waters from on high to carve
from the ebbing and flowing millennial currents
which eventually find a more direct course
beginning as trickling creek
swells from winter rains
and thence in summer while the sun doth bake
when flora blooms and fauna prance
the firmament then abandons
bent elbow oxbow lake
as a former bend in the river.
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 11:56 PM UTC
After being amply lathered
from head to toe, aye
ya eye ya eye ya eye, and without fail
(gluteus maximus unloads a dump,
as predictably happens
like clockwork orange
after washing off suds),
this nada so grand poo ba
drops ship capsizing sinkers
(hefty waste ballast
causing sea level to rise), this aint
"NOT FAKE" just ask Cap'n Bligh
sitting athwart the **** deck
i.e. christened "Porcelain Goddess"
well nar did die
after being privy seeing yours truly
exit the water closet did espy
a much relieved rearing *** a nine guy,
which also earned me,
the nick name ****
not evident, via friendly customery wave
conveyed expediting,
(viz nonverbally)
business cheekily dreck eliminated
eh, the formality establishment,
sans customary "hi"
whereupon without any waste I
sought to secure these
weather beaten lovely bones of mine
preparatory to a tidal wave,
thus refuge sought
behind (a replica),
sans Bridge over the River Kwai
after moving ma bowels, no lie,
which predictable tsunami
predicated on my
humungous substantial
****** discharge well nigh
generating threatening
rip snorting currents
impossible mission e'en ex spurt ***** to ply
especially, flush with panic (a *** er,
but mandatory duty) when lookout scout,
(an E Medic) didst spy
an immense wall of water, aye yai yai!
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 12:49 AM UTC
Fame is the most wanted creature travelling across the planet!
You’re desparate to have it but with those cheap and stupid specs,
Cuz the ones already being famous would always compare you with rotten eggs!
It takes a lot of beauty, trolling tricks and stylish progression,
To get the whole ******* thing in a goof like yours possession!
Generosity doesn’t matter buddy you gotta have swag,
Sweetness won’t suffice anything…..what about boasts and brags?
Trend-setting hair, profound blue eyes,
With a bunch of smirks and you’ve just become a price!
Well…how can we forget that perfect jawline,
Which deviate everyone and let them go blind!
Now you just realised…that you haven’t got any of it,
What you gonna do when your post won’t be called “LIT”!
Famous were James and Lily, therefore he became Harry,
Otherwise a 12 year old orphan in Hogwarts wouldn’t be necessary!
So stop running behind the train called Popularity,
Cuz once you outshone the swaggy-dupes, this train will depart from your city!
Why worry and speculate to fit in the insane trend,
You just want a number of people, what if everyone on Earth would like to be your friend!
Today people attract you and tomorrow you’ll do the same,
This is the function and feature of this humungous magnet called FAME!
Just be yourself and forget about fame, cuz your success would always scan it,
Fame is the most wanted creature travelling across the planet!
Utkarsh Upadhyay
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 8:20 AM UTC
Move Forward !
Go Forward ! Never, ever stop, as long as you breathe!
Life, A tremendous
Endless wave
Of confrontations,
Disappointments, and elations.
Plans go wrong.
Safe thing to do is not plan at all.
set your attitude to awesome, and leave it on like auto pilot.
Ya mans aint yours,
Ya girl aint yours.
Go away, get lost.
We each belong to our own adventure.
It seems as if we are all just
Bit parts in a humungous script.
We are Playing parts
That are swift to end.
But, we feel
like heroic
Protagonist
Bound for a tremendous victory.
Or, at least i do.
I dunno about you.
Aw yeah this epic, tremendous
Awesome adventure feels like it will ever end, but it will !
Do what you will, it matters.
Suffer all to yourself if it makes you feel better.
But me, ill go do it! Ill go get her.
I discovered no one really cares.
Oh really? How freeing! Im gone now, believe me.
You are what you eat, gimme crap & ill throw it up like bulimics.
I mean, some feed you vicious lies to eat. They live lives of evil telling lies to people
With a smile so genuine.
They'd bully me ?
All right then ill fight them
And gritt my teeth.
I need, i want. i dont want to need.
I dont want to want.
I go on because i must go on, but i do not feel it to be anything in particular.
Ill stay to watch the ship go down, kuz
Suicide is not my style. and besides, i have fun sometimes.
Ill do whatever i want to.
I honestly, Genuinely love people
Like a brother.
So how could i lose ?
I cant!
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 8:26 AM UTC