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Àŧùl Jun 2013
There they threaten the theologians,
Broadly breaking buoyant blueprints,
Here how humorously humongous,
Under upmarket upholstery undone,
Scaring supermarket's shopkeepers,
Zealously zooming zestfully zapping,
Its importantly impossible irreligious,
Around aroused automatic aromatic,
Giving goodness getaway goosebumps,
Cheekily chronologically caring cans,
Ergonomically exacting expenditure,
Madness making missionary mission,
Naughtily naked nonsense newspapers,
Xylophone's xylophonetic xylems' xyla,
Young-young youthful Yankees yankin,
Gladiators gladly going Godless givers,
Windows woefully wishing weddings,
Peacefully palpitating peeping people,
Fruitfully fitting fabulous framework,
Doubtlessly doubt doubtfully dubious,
Jacking Jillian's jackets jammy jokers,
Kids' kidneys kleptomaniacly kindling,
Ergonomically economically earliest,
Institutionalized Indian instinctively,
Jacking Jill's jolly junkies javelinas,
Victorious Victorians visiting visas,
Loveliest lonely lovebirds lost lives,
Obnoxiously overrule omnipotence.
Just a product of my idle brainstorming.
My HP Poem #321
©Atul Kaushal
Olivia Kent Dec 2014
I'm such a rascal you know.
I ate an entire packet of biscuits, just like they're going out of fashion.
All jammy and creamy, so sickly, sweet.
I am such a selfish gal.
Gave not one to the children.
I'm such a selfish witch.
The dog looked on so longing.
I saved none for my *****.
I smiled sweetly at her, a curt little grin, if you know what I mean.
I said, "no sorry , Blue, biscuits are only for humans, they're so not good for you!
Any excuse to eat them all, what else can a good girl do!
(C) Livvi
A little fun x
The man decked in blue
     sits quite content
          on a sofa
               and observes wealthy offspring

               waltz in flashing their brilliant teeth
          glossed with potent peppermint.
     These teens
don't know love,

lust is all it is.
     While the Jazz bops away,
          more whisky is poured
               and they zip out to get jammy.

               The man, mid-twenties,
          kind of blue, dapper apparel,
     has one on the rocks.
Sees them

walk in most evenings,
     cute blondes with flawless skin,
          guys in suits, bow ties, the works,
               gaze into each other's pupils.

               There are regulars,
          Robert, the chap from Yale,
     Quentin, sly guy at Harvard
and Carly, still at school the man believes,

who's coquettish, fresh,
     these two want to have her
          but she's astute,
               knows just what she wants.

               They're all after her in fact.
          Every male in the room
     turns their head,
can't blame them,

she's like Candyfloss,
     all the men want a taste
          but there's not enough for everyone
               and they don't look like the sharing kind.

               The man in blue
          just grins to himself
     thinking how grand it is
that he's single, sensible, secure.
Written: June 2012.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. The characters and situation are made up, with the girl's name suggested by a friend of mine. The title refers to the man, who is dressed in blue, and the reference to the girl being like Candyfloss.
Said he 'shut yer gobs ye ****** boggers'
Keen on blatherin' ye spent yer days with yer tongue sharp as a dagger
O ter be 'onest ye be pattin yer boat.
Aul' ducks,yung ducks all makin' faults.

Cats eatin' bazz i say blather ye boyo
A man makin' money, no divils in county mayo
Yer gobs flippin' like hoors feckin ****
Smart fellas know ter kick yer barse

Me,a **** in carrickfergus jammy am i?
Come 'ere ye be told a secret ye culchie
A man pushin his **** tryin ter find his way
Be wide ye yung boyo lots o vultures on yer way
Ann Williams Ms Apr 2017
He’s got a bagel on his head,
Not a Cornish Pastie, nor a slice of bread;

Not a Singin’ Hinny, nor a Bacon Roll,
Not Bedfordshire Clanger nor Toad-in-the-Hole;

Black Buns from Scotland pass him by,
No Jammy Rascals, nor Stargazy Pie;

No Bakewell Tarts, and no Teisen Lap,
No Apple Dumplings adorn his cap;

No scones from Devon spread with cream and jam;
Just a crispy bagel full of cheese and ham.

Bagels are the coolest, bagels are the best:
Up with the bagels and down with the rest.
Onwards and upwards, long may it be said:
He’s got a bagel on his head.
https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2017/feb/27/fight-on-uk-train-after-people-kept-placing-bagels-on-travellers-heads

And they sang: He’s got a bagel on his head.
Ann Williams Ms Apr 2017
He’s got a bagel on his head (February 28 2017).
He’s got a bagel on his head,
Not a Cornish Pastie, nor a slice of bread;

Not a Singin’ Hinny, nor a Bacon Roll,
Not Bedfordshire Clanger nor Toad-in-the-Hole;

Black Buns from Scotland pass him by,
No Jammy Rascals, nor Stargazy Pie;

No Bakewell Tarts, and no Teisen Lap,
No Apple Dumplings adorn his cap;

No scones from Devon spread with cream and jam;
Just a crispy bagel full of cheese and ham.

Bagels are the coolest, bagels are the best:
Up with the bagels and down with the rest.
Onwards and upwards, long may it be said:
He’s got a bagel on his head.
https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2017/feb/27/fight-on-uk-train-after-people-kept-placing-bagels-on-travellers-heads

And they sang: He’s got a bagel on his head.
They say act is the blossom of thought
So I'm pop lockin'
Boogaloo Shrimpin' with the hair do and what not
Level of beast? Never
I 'm caught in the war zone
This concrete jungle, Quantum sea aLive in stereo
Go with the flow
Made with Love like moms cooking,
Soul music, Knowledge and Kronik,
Plus the cold brewtus
Drums smashing leave a ***** and eye jammy
Eye and eye, Marley
Rasta fire Space Jammin'...
topaz oreilly Dec 2012
The Neon chatter box
says lets all talk with the same tongue,
he said he was sorry for before,
his moustache quivered under this
sanguine strain.
Most of us are foxes
who glady forage through black sacks,
some of us sit bow legged
quintessence in a darkened room
and siphon others gloom away,
but there's no standard release clause
their eyes rock with the tide
until a printing press is sought
yet their Universal probity ignores
the jammy Neon chatter boxes duplicity
embossed as the stalwart he now wants plangent marching in step
Ann Williams Ms Apr 2017
He’s got a bagel on his head (February 28 2017).
He’s got a bagel on his head,
Not a Cornish Pastie, nor a slice of bread;

Not a Singin’ Hinny, nor a Bacon Roll,
Not Bedfordshire Clanger nor Toad-in-the-Hole;

Black Buns from Scotland pass him by,
No Jammy Rascals, nor Stargazy Pie;

No Bakewell Tarts, and no Teisen Lap,
No Apple Dumplings adorn his cap;

No scones from Devon spread with cream and jam;
Just a crispy bagel full of cheese and ham.

Bagels are the coolest, bagels are the best:
Up with the bagels and down with the rest.
Onwards and upwards, long may it be said:
He’s got a bagel on his head.
https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2017/feb/27/fight-on-uk-train-after-people-kept-placing-bagels-on-travellers-heads

And they sang: He’s got a bagel on his head.
Paul M Chafer Dec 2013
Cat black the wizard’s hat,
Marc Bolan did his thing,
A Jingle-jangle morning,
Bob Dylan’s posy ring.
Sunshine walking, yep,
Eddy Grant, whoop it up,
While Marley jammy-jams,
Herbal tea, oh do let us sup.
Rolling in the long grass,
Naked limbs having fun,
Much frolicking and kissing,
Laughter soaks up the sun.
Pleasure aches inside us,
Little scraps of pale blue,
Not flowers, ah, butterflies,
Diamonds made of dew.
So subtle in the long grass,
Loving: a delicious snack,
Drink each other for dinner,
Cat black the wizard’s back.

© Paul Chafer 2014
Dedicated to GussE and Devlin Andrew Harris, their conversation and poems made this odd slice of creative poetry possible: I thank you both.
am i ee Sep 2015
"it’s time to go
to bed NOW,
right NOW
right this second,
or you are going to get a spanking."

bubbling up with
happy glee
the stumpy little
legs ran
and danced
around
ignorning this stern
sound booming,
this stern
sound looming.

"get upstairs,
NOW,
get into bed,
i’ll be up
in a minute,
to give you
that spanking."

Uh oh!
her fat little
squishy three-year-old
legs
carried her up
as she ran up
the stairs.

heart beating
fast with fear
of impending doom.

coming into the room
she looked about
desperately,
spying a book,
into her bed
she took.

shoving that book
inside her jammy
bottoms,
and covered her bare
little ***
but,
good.

lying there waiting,
with
layers of
help
so thickly,
so comfortingly,
spread in between,
that big hand,
and her little ***
filled with dread.

The little one,
so happy
just moments ago,
not so happy
now,
just lying there
waiting.
filling with
looming fear.


oh what a life,
an eternal seesaw
of happy and sad
mad and glee.

book and
pajama bottoms,
sheet,
and blanket.

he’ll never see,
that book that’s,
a covering me.

waiting with dread,
the minutes ticking
in the dark,
ever so slowly,
an  eternity.

the huge giant
finally came up,
big shoes,
booming each
step of the way.

he
gave a good swat,
then out
he went,
closing the door,
shaking a finger
and saying,
“i don’t want to hear any more."

giggled
did she,
and thougth to
herself,
i didn’t even
feel that
and he didn’t,
even know.

hee hee hee..

pulling that book
away from her
be-hinny,
she stretched
out on her back
so comfortably,
so calmly,
and very
peacefully.

so happy
was she,
with her,
Oh So Smart
3-year-old
little self.
cheryl love Jun 2016
Red gingham on jam pots
Wax lids preserving the berry
Tattered lace and old spots
Labels for black cherry.

Strawberries with leaves left on
Cups of tea with cream in
All the nice jam has gone
But there are biscuits in the tin.

Crumbs left on top when cakes took
pride of place after they were made
There is jam around his face look
Do you think the evidence will fade?

No because he has jam all over his top
and there is a smile on his jammy face
He keeps eating them, no signs he will stop
when there are jam tarts all over the place.

Red gingham on the table cloth freshly laid
jam pots with strawberries now preserved.
All the sugar used up, jam for the year made
get your hands off, that *** is reserved!
the wishing wells eating up their spells, the mystery tour catching an early flight to greeece and ending up broke with no fishing tail to catch onto, mystery wheels of which way and rhyme a quick way to pass the time working on fishnet and fishtails to bring into a *** of good luck that can either be lousy or unimpressive and stupid the lovers cast their first spell and fear is driving them but its heading up to good luck, and the clouds are permissive, and they understand what they need to understand, and I’m not doing this for anyone but myself from now on, I guess thats just a decision that you have to make, and the precious fools who make an irony out of their vanity will be great too, and we will do a dance together, yes we do a dance together
I am a man that wants to do his best to preserve what is coming, to grant solitude and goodness to those that were good to me, I believe in a  God moving through things, controlling things that I cannot understand, because things are just too **** complex, working way soldiers on a ride to vacancy, vacancy, vacancy, oh just scribbles and random dots showing on either side of reading lot and loving the poetry and the history of it, and sometimes there is a movie, oh sometimes a classroom is a place to dream, to dream rather than to actually focus on the lesson, a random destruction of beauty, a random destruction of beauty, lovely forces making on a take out transition into fuller notions of equality, and loving their morality, and just making their decisions good enough to foster an excelllece, of equal stature of equal pride, moving through the ride, moving through the ride, and they all excel at what they can and cannot do, and he kept them still cool, and he could have taken the ride, but he chose not to, what of a hero?  what of a savior? what of a pastor attempting to take down everything that he has already established and coming up with nuclear error, pasting out the tangible worst of makeshift cranny acid truculent succulent brandy candy plans to see me jammy
Kaitlin Dec 2018
Today I'm feeling oozy
Sweet and slightly snoozy
My heart feels jammy juicy
My eyes still stale and scuzzy

Today I'm feeling rotten
Young and quite forgotten
My heart is made of cotton
My eyes play tricks and soften

Today I'm feeling crispy
Jeweled and fancy frisky
My heart is feeling thrifty
My eyes, regardless, misty.
Playing around with words I like...
Paul Hardwick Jun 2014
Woman why do you stick
with my poor head
you are just some glue
and how I still stick by you
I walk away you bring me back
Woman you are so Jammy.
True Story   P@ul
James Daniel Feb 2024
Bio
One of my first jobs was as a waiter in a Thai Restaurant
Run by a scary Malaysian who'd taken a liking to me
We went to a rave once
And he gave me 400 AUD for Chinese New Year
Bless him

But one night a tall Singaporean guy called Sunny came in
He was a musician too
He played in a rock and roll band
The Suns

Sunny lasted one night
But he told me about an open mic run by a girl called Michelle
And we stayed in contact
----

Gom was in the year above me at school
Gom was the only African at our school, he and his brother
Goyte also went to our school, he was in Gom's year. At school I was smart and cool, played bass and was friends with everybody. School was sometimes an escape from home life.

Marcus took me to Gom's place once where he lived with his girlfriend Nikki
I took my guitar and Gom and I jammed in the bedroom
A singer and a rapper
----

The first time I ever played live was at a place called Yah man Rastaraunt
It was a Caribbean Restaurant on Hoddle Street, South Yarra, Melbourne
It had that black feeling, of warmth and mystery. Or maybe that was youth and ****.
But I played, and some of the girls were crying
I'd found my thing
I went back the next week and froze up
----

There was a place called Pure on Smith Street. This was where Sunny said the open mic was run by Michelle. In those years, Smith street had a sacred vibe. Maybe it was the presence of an Aboriginal community or the fact that gentrification hadn't yet taken hold. But things were elemental, exaggerated by the warmth of summer nights.
I loved these open mics, the people I've met. I'd invite my work crew and friends. Sometimes I'd pack that venue out, for 3 songs!
----

Gom and I started a band
Melbourne was hip-hop, music, life and Fitzroy was Mecca
On Monday nights you could go to a place called the Laundry and see B-boys doing backflips on dancefloors!
Open mics, Latin Culture, losing my virginity
I was living and working as a waiter in beautiful Carlton, Melbourne's Italy. I love the parks there.

I flew interstate to study jazz
To smoke more ****
Then less ****
To wander like the wind, to bend like the rain, but always circling music and its hubs

I moved to London in 2015
I worked in a cafe and met a guy called Stefan from Austria. He is still one of the coolest and nicest people you can meet. I'll have to link up with him in Berlin one day soon.
He introduced me to Stefano from Italy who played the drums
We set up a band and had a few gigs
We had Hakan on Trombone and Bahadir on bass
Stefano had all these connections to the Turkish musical community
Because of the fact he plays in the Oddbeats, a psychedelic Turkish Band, one of the long standing hippie bands round these parts

I worked in a cafe called Music and Beans on Green Lanes, London's Istanbul. It was run by a musician who played amazing violin and also ran a music school. I lived in a tiny room above the school for a bit. On Green lanes there was a place called Jam in a Jar where you could see all kinds of music, from Mediterranean to Irish folk. It had a festival feel to it.
----

I go to open mics and jams like I did back in Melbourne,
It's very jazzy and jammy in this city. I like going to blues jams sometimes.
But I do like to remember those first gigs and musical experiences I had back in Melbourne
The meditation and wonder of it

I see Lloyle Carner at the swimming pool sometimes
He comes in with his daughter and wife
There I work as a lifeguard
On the days when I'm not working, I'll be working on my music, playing guitar, piano, writing, listening, learning, humming, singing, reading...
Stefano and I set up a house removed from the noise of traffic, replaced by the sounds of birds. There are trees everywhere and a lake nearby.
I've dedicated myself to being able to sing that great song in great condition, so that keeps the number of joints, beers and cigarettes down and the number of kilometers run and minutes meditated up.


I would cite Stevie Wonder, Bob Marley, Aston “Familyman” Barret, Jimi Hendrix, Nina Simone, Miles Davis, The Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Flea, Michael Jackson, Marvin Gaye, James Jamerson, Donny Hathaway, Lauryn Hill, Sam Cooke, Bill Withers, Frank Sinatra, John Coltrane, Salman Rushdie, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Carole King, James Taylor, Norah Jones, Nick Drake, Bjork, Portishead, Radiohead, Aphex Twin, Squarepusher, Burial, Flying Lotus, Fat Freddy’s Drop, Aphrodite, Charlie Parker, Chopin, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave, Paul Kelly, Jeff Buckley, Jaco Pastorius, Eric Dolphy, David Bowie, Charles Mingus, Herbie Hancock, J Dilla, Tupac, Juicy the song, Nirvana, Crowded House, Metallica, Black Sabbath, Prince, Parliament, D'Angelo's 3 Albums to date, Blackstar, The Roots, Adele, Beyonce, Aretha Franklin, Eryka Badu, Hiatus Kaiyote, Nai Palm, Muddy Waters, BB King, Ben Harper, Joe Cocker, Cat Stevens, Paul Simon, Van Morrison, The Rolling Stones, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, Mavis Staples, The Beatles and tapestries more as inspirations and influences
Caroline Dec 2018
Hello little one, wriggling on the screen
Goodbye to your future, and our dreams
Hello sleepless nights, afflicted by our choice,
Goodbye to pregnancy as a time of joy
Hello to the beauty of my other two
Goodbye to worry over jammy fingers and muddy shoes
Hello to this still moment, this calm, this sublime
Goodbye to counting down the next landmark in time
Hello my silent baby curled up in my arms
Goodbye my little boy, you’re now safe from harm

— The End —