"jibber" poems
On the Ning Nang Nong
Where the Cows go ****
and the monkeys all say BOO!
There's a Nong Nang Ning
Where the trees go Ping!
And the tea pots jibber jabber joo.
On the Nong Ning Nang
All the mice go Clang
And you just can't catch 'em when they do!
So its Ning Nang Nong
Cows go ****
Nong Nang Ning
Trees go ping
Nong Ning Nang
The mice go Clang
What a noisy place to belong
is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!
5.7k
At seven I heard the story of Peter Pan;
Growing up wasn't part of his plan.
I wish he'd fly through my window sill,
When the stars are bright and the lakes are still.
I would ask him to take me to Neverland,
Where growing up has always been banned,
And never planned.
I'd never have to hear my parents fight,
Everything would finally be alright.
He'd take me through the sky in one big leap,
Over rivers and through mountains steep.
Second star to the right.
Straight on till morning; through the night.
To Neverland.
I'd meet the infamous Tinkerbell,
I knew we'd get on well.
I’d hear her jibber-jabber,
Among the laughter.
I could see Mermaid Lagoon,
As we sink Captain Hook's platoon.
I can join the lost boys; form a family.
Away from the land of the ****** my ruthless reality.
Meet the brave Tiger-Lily,
We could be perfectly silly.
And meet the crocodile who tried to **** time, eating a clock.
Tick tock, tick tock.
I may be able to find a treasure trove.
Maybe I can make a home in a cozy cove.
Peter and I would be as thick as thieves,
I’d make him a crown of leaves.
We will live forever.
To age, we will never surrender.
To live will be an awfully big adventure.
Too far from Peter, I'd never venture.
All you need is faith, trust and pixie dust,
Or you might just combust.
You just have to believe
and you will never have to grieve
and no one would ever leave.
I'd never have to be strong.
I'd never have to care for long.
So let us begin the journey.
To Neverland.
My timeless eternity.
My fantasy.
My delightful daydream.
My bittersweet destiny.
My dreams of Neverland have yet to cease.
And I am already in my late teens.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
Silver backed monkeys talk on the line
never do they squat on the heros of time
meet my best friend who is thoughtful and kind
benevolent son of a seventh son of mine
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 12:00 PM UTC
I think I understand hookups and one-night stands now.
The key to moving on is to replace all that stood before
until there stands nothing that may cause you to unravel.
Moment by moment,
conversation by conversation,
I replace the replays,
I can't bear the thought
of another touching me, like I'm not yours.
I got another ring today, all big and loose.
It's funny how I picked this one,
it keeps slipping off my fingers like you did.
It's been two months since I last wore your ring.
I don't see a difference between them,
it feels the same on my thumb.
and that should be the end of it,
but oh well, I guess it isn't.
I walked to the grocery store, paused at an aisle,
took my time frowning over chocolate bars.
You used to get me Munch, and so I picked the Mars bar.
I don't skip meals now, (well, most days I don't)
and in place of our routine conversations,
I play a random show.
I drown noise with noise.
My days are decent.
I'm surrounded by mindless jibber jabber.
I participate.
I paste a bright smile.
“You look well now,” they say,
“Well, I am” I reply.
And I am fine. (I think I am?)
9/10 times I am.
Then in a random mundane moment,
memories of you resurface like a ring light and
in that single moment,
I let myself crumble.
“I don't want him back.
He's changed now.
So have you and so what?
If it's meant to be, it'll be.
He's the love of my life.
Well don't let him in,
when (not if) he comes back.
Do it from love, not for it.
You deserve happiness.
Both of you do.
You want love.
You are love.
The ocean doesn't look for its water,
Why will you look for what you have?
It is what it is.
and this too shall pass.”
So on and so forth my inner monologue goes on,
and I stare at my phone wondering if I can conjure you from my thoughts.
I am kinder now.
With myself, and everyone around.
I wish I were kinder to you, but I was just a child.
I know you're proud,
and I am of you too.
Do you think I can sculpt my favourite version of you?
Wait, no.
I already did that,
I loved all of you
and then everything fell apart.
My thoughts swirl and I let them play.
Incantations in my head
Obligatory 3 am, weary sighs, contempt and rage.
Oh, so much rage.
Where is the calming lull of sleep, when you need it to sedate your despair?
Resignation sets in, I play a familiar game.
I ask the universe and unbiasedly it delivers the same day.
"Universe, give me a sign, I'm really done this time.
Yellow flowers if he's coming back,
Dandelions if he's not.
Universe let me move on. This is the last time, "
In my version of He loves me, he loves me not
I break flowers, not petals.
I look for answers in colours and not action,
And then I saw a dozen Dandelions.
Jan 17, 2024
Jan 17, 2024 at 4:40 PM UTC
Dont talk to me about sense-vense -
do you, or do you not?
tell me this much;
Don't go zig-zag, jibber-jabber,
zither; look I don't care of
money-shoney,
this caste-vaste, mummy-daddy
and the society;
We could might never deny this,
pow-wows cannot measure this,
do you, or do you not?
That is, is all there is.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
**What a day!
Oh what a tiresome day!
A guesome hurdle
A dire way,
As afternoon embraced,
The lights all fade,
So does the sparkle in her
little eyes..**
*oh how pretty she were
How her tiny feet ran all over the place,
Made me smile
A little gay,
Her nose so tiny,
it fit in as my thumb,
Her tongue so pink
Even strawberries
Looked shy..*
But oh! Her jibber jabbering,
Her questions,
Her answers!
Her shouting,
Her cry!
What a sly thing she was,
You know?
she hid behind sofas,
Scared me to death,
**So I thought of giving her
a taste of lifelessness.**.
*but, she,
she,
Was my princess,
My beauty in petals,
Her funny giggling,
Made everyone laugh!
Oh such a cherry
Skin like honey,
Her hair amber,
Like wings of burterflies
Flying across the sun..*
Oh! But she ****** the life
out of me,
Everyone praised her,
But me,
they said what a lovely
Little thing she is!
The irritation!
The moral dissatisfaction!
She made me look old!
and ragged,and torn,
Frustration!
*but how could I cut her
Feeble hands?
Hold her so tight,
That she couldn't breath,
how could I?
How?
after all I was her mommy,
The most beautiful
She considered..
How could I not think about her once?
I gave her life and in
3years I took it back!?
Forgive me lord
For I have sinned,
no how can you forgive someone
So heartless,
so mean,
Such a hippocrit!
such a ***** person?*
But who cares?
when I have my life back,
**To start anew,
Never look back,**
Yes I hit her,
Hard and numb,
Made her blood,
Come till my feet,
but she was the one who wanted forgiveness,
yes she,
So I gave her
What she wanted,
freedom was my forgiveness,
Stains of her,
still stick to my life story,
but I don't care..
*you,fair little fragile thing,
You made me do that to you,
Had you not come,
I never would have been,
An inhuman,
A mother,
A disastrous
Murderer..*
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
you laugh, adorably
perfectly.
i, embarassingly.
i can't help
myself. with you
i love our jibber jabber.
late nights, awake
smiling.
how can you not see
me?
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
She doesn't think
I'm much of a guy...
I meant much of
An interesting guy.
I did say "interesting" before...
Didn't I?
Why?
Why does it matter?
Oh I love her I think...
We will go well together,
Like bread and jam
wait.. a better rhyme...
Like bread and "butter".
I must tell you...
The amount of efforts I make!
Even wrote her a poem to which
She said "For God's sake!
We are not in 19th century. Get new..."
It made me feel like leftover cake.
"Swag", she said
Something you lack ***
I opened net and googled it
After our short conversation.
The guys must do this and that
Looking at it I went into depression!
(Have you seen the latest trends?
I'm soooo far behind. oh good heaven!)
Back home I sunk in my sofa low
I was ****** exhausted,
Nothing I did pleased her
Didn't get her one bit excited;
She wanted someone bad and strong
And all she got was a guy ********
Why is it that...
Her crush drinks a bottle of whiskey down,
In one gulp and calls her cutie pie.
And I can't even pull off a leather jacket,
I'm just a ******* teetotaler orange juice guy.
In this world full of jibber-jabber,
I look at her as if She's my only high!
Okay!
So I'll love her silently and pray,
Like how Earth keeps Moon
Neither too close nor far away;
A miracle is all I hope for
(like the guy she loves shifting to Burma)
Then she'll have no other way!
I know...
I'm not a bad boy!
Why o God you've made me this nice?!
She loves to play with fire and you've
And you've...
Made my heart outta ice!
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 2:53 AM UTC
That's
Nonsense!
That's
beans!
babble!
bunkum!
bogus!
baloney!
blither!
blather!
blah blah!
********
balderdash!
blarney!
********
That's
crapola!
claptrap!
codswallop!
That's
drivel!
That's
fiddlesticks!
flapdoodle!
frippery!
folderol!
That's
guff
garbage
gibberish!
gobbledygook!
That's
horse hockey!
hocus-pocus!
hokum!
hogwash!
humbug!
hooey!
humdrum!
That's
jibber-jabber!
jive!
jazz!
That's
malarkey!
mumbo-jumbo!
monkeyshines!
That's
Nuts!
That's
poppycock!
piffle!
prattle!
That, sir, is
******* and
RIGMAROLE!
That's
trash
tripe
and
twaddle
That, sir, is
NONSENSE!
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
babbling bard's borrowed blabberpolished performers jibber jabberpinching published stolen cultureverse of a cuckoo, parrot, or vulture thespian thrush corally crowspilfered produce of past masters proseperfect posture, prancing croondotty damsels sigh and swoon shakespearian showman strutting stagesobtaining material from dead poets pagesstudious stealer's theatrical thirstrapturous robber, magpie of verse wisely walter mundane mittypoetical poacher prancing prettyempty shallow pretentious crookcrafty criminal compiling book robber of rhyme from archival shelfcopy-cat crooner can't do it himselfrouted teeth spout from mouth like a troutaudience wonder, what is he on about any question's? the laurete quizzedyes said one,...do you know where the bog is? this is a true story, i was there. and the **** concerned is the editor of poetry wales magazine. who told me that i should study other peoples work for at least five years before i put pen to paper. i promptly answered, .... too late butty, i've already published 3 books, and sold the lot (only locally mind, but did'nt tell him that). he read other peoples poems that night, that were converted from english to welsh, and no one round here speaks or understands welsh.
Mar 2, 2010
Mar 2, 2010 at 12:36 PM UTC
Don't be silly
ofcourse I am a ******
who has freakish tendencies
and uses jibber jabber language
and makes absurd analogies
like how fried Oreoes, when converted into global currency, is worth one hundred Indian virgins.
Fact:
I am awkward. I make people feel uncomfortable
and they can never follow my train of thought
because it leaves at 4pm from Seattle and will end up in Atlantis at approximately 3,000 BCE
(unless you take wind resistence into account).
I would sometimes rather sit alone and read a book
than go out and have "fun" with people
and I can become very irritable when around humans for too long
and then my brain becomes unfriendly and my demeanor becomes elderly and dry
and jokes are not funny but just tiring and childish
and then I know it's time for my nap
which does not involve sleeping, because that's more of a miracle than walking on ceilings
so I mostly sit, eyes open staring and sorting out thoughts,
filing away emotions and sensory experiences until I feel recharged and have enough bars
to go out and play again.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 11:21 PM UTC
The bohemian youth are dancing with the moon
with the night
pressed firmly on their backs
the wind of a thousand seas
they tick like clocks until the world is broken
down at their feet
all around them they build up their anthills
only to play God with magnifying glasses
taking the train or bus
to broke or bust
with cackles echoing off the graying apartment walls
blowing out clouds of intoxication
into the night sky
just so they could call it art
they are building pianos out of old photo albums
and listening to all the songs
they have heard a million times
and yet still do not know
taking the missing pieces out of
abandoned cable boxes
and talking on phones of
styrofoam cups and string
waiting for the day to become night
to stop all of the nonsensical
jibber jabber
with ironic t shirts they found on the side of the road
shooting city crows from the air with BB guns
and eating greasy sandwich after greasy sandwich
in the early hours of morning
beer and beer and beer and disappointment
no noble cause of nobility
for the wannabe outlaw to hang on to
no titanic monolith of strictures to rebel against
just a pair of worn out sneakers
and an empty compass
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
1
The Clowns in Brussels Sprouts
have sent me a notebook. Tossers.
The latest thrilling instalment from ******** Creek.
The Animal Events Recording Notebook —
fits in your pocket,
if it happens to be a school bag.
A little picture on the cover
Jack, the farmer, a cow and her calf.
Equally gay as it is oxymoronically inaccurate.
No sign of a tag on either the cow or calf.
The cow has a pair of horns
that would **** any animal, never mind the farmer,
statistically dead. Plus,
the calf’s a bit too healthy looking
and the cow ain’t trying to **** the farmer either.
Between the covers coloured-coded sections
chronicling the animal’s progress
from Foetus to Fork.
2
Though, I do thoroughly enjoy filling out those
additional comment columns.
De-horning
Next to castrating lambs,
I love this job —
all-the-more if there’s a gang.
The first has no idea what coming
and the last wishes they weren’t.
But seriously, I’d say it hurts.
A lot.
Castration
See Revival, issue 6 P.14 —
revised in Inheritance P.26
Weaning
Always good for poem.
I laugh from the comfort of my bed.
Ye’re only halfway lads
And how far along are you?
They inquire back.
3
Ok, I get it. Seriously.
Stop depleting the rainforests please …
I have my own notebook thanks.
I understand their dilemma.
They fear mindsets will be inherited
form the old flock, the old stock —
the canners and brass tags —
who never converted.
It’s like auld women and the church
engrained since birth
and no amount of jibber-jabber will sway.
So they concentrate, groom us
weanling growing up
in the Age of A.I.M
on BETTER Farms
4
Regardless, the second you tag a calf,
the cunt’ll croak. So wink, wink:
so not to jinx yourself
and have to write a cheque;
adjust your Balance Sheet,
invariably affecting your Gross Margin.
I know … I know
S.M.R 6, 7 and all that $*@#
But it’s so cold the frost is complaining.
Plus, they said on the radio: be kind
leave food out for the birds.
I’m just thinking of the foxes.
And, if anyone asks —
she never came in calf
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 2:27 PM UTC
You try and tear me down
but your words don't even matter
All they are is a bunch of jibber jabber
We are the ones who you discarded
That's okay because within me is where this all started
You treat me like I'm dirt
when I'm the one who gave birth
I brought into the world a little human being
all you did was shoot a little ***** up inside of me
I'm making all the sacrifices and
You ain't giving up ****
I have no freedom
You still come and go as you please
I go to work
I make ends meet
I have no life except for the one that we made
You gave that up and I'm the one who stayed
So you want to try and run me down?!
To you I will never bow!
I'm still lying in the bed that we made together
And I'll be cleaning up the mess from here on after
I've done it all
Our son is okay
And it's all thanks to me
You have no part in this little boys life
Your only purpose is to try and cause pain and strife
You're missing out
I'm here for it all
I get the ****** diapers and pick him up when he falls
I get his first smile and the light in his eyes
all you get is severed ties
I get the bumps and bruises
the giggles and sighs
While you're out getting on your high
I see the adoration and love in his eyes
I'm here wiping away all the tears when he cries
I get his affection and kisses too
And you're getting what's been coming to you
So you want to issue idle threats
and talk a big game
I know it's all ******** you never follow through
with anything that you say
You think being a parent is a convenience
well maybe you should get a clue
Everything that's being done is all because of you
So go ahead and blame everyone you see
because it's nobodies fault but your very own
that you're not the man you outta be
You think you're angry
well how do you think I feel
I'm the one here on a daily basis having to deal
My life is harder than it ever should of been
I don't even know if I can ever love again
These emotions that within me dwell
are like a broken bone they ache and swell
You think you're a father
Honey, you don't know a thing
You're just a baby daddy
Who doesn't have a name.
Copyright © 2013 by Ashley Rodden
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
I stretch, and stretch
up towards a place where my head is far
further above so
that I cannot hear the jet engine of your words.
I hear my bones creak
with the effort to get
away from the pollution
of your coal train ramming me.
I hear only my body
cracking like spring ice
as I rise, rise -
rise above your noise toxins
that settle like limp and sodden cardboard crowns
worn about your tortured head.
High above your hollow community
above your entitlement park,
above your tiny-
tinny voice.
I hear it. Your hateful sounds like poultry jibber
so far down in
atmospheres
below.
I laugh to hear your wordless squawl!
I stretch but now to bend
and see you
beneath my squishy toes.
Bend at the waist
to see who's nipping at my ankles
and I cry a tear of mirth.
A white rapid that
whisks your bitter apple groove
far away.
I stretch you gone.
I stretch you indifferent.
I grow myself pardoned, I grow my self free.
sahn
2/15/15
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
This is your life as a performance.
Light on.
It’s the horseshoe necklace tickling your neck.
And rhythm in between steps.
Like tomorrow could die if we sidestep the question mark.
You say “hold your breath.”
“What about your future?”
You say, “ That’s irresponsible. Sit in a giant box covered with lies.”
“Shut up play thing. I need to work. You need to work.”
Full of something else-
We are all full of something else.
Bones.
Blood.
Grandma’s Belgian waffles
Freak show?
“I’m stuck.” Jack screamed but the child
Shut down the headphones.
Inside the circus.
Wait until he’s let you out!
Poor Jack.
Here it comes.
Wind up the velocity.
Elongate your stride.
Jibber my jabber.
Here comes Jack.
And she baked cookies with your initials on top
Your name happens to be “Untitled”
So there’s a giant question mark.
Full of dough and sugar.
It tasted like Jack’s defecation.
Delicious is mutilation.
The East cries at night for the attention of vapor.
See the beautiful sunset bleeding into itself.
See the orange sky because
Of cans soot and damage.
The sunset smacks the horizon.
See the orange sky because they wouldn’t call you back-
Chained to a tree out west.
The transition will arrive.
Like an annoying child sitting between our see saw
We won’t go anywhere.
Until they leave and
SMACK.
I’ve made it ‘round the curve.
But I threw up a little syrup.
“Shoot for the dot.” And SMACK me harder.
And SMACK the shoes.
And SMACK those beating bleeding blood bags.
But don’t smack your gum.
Wrap yourself in pearls but put your ***** feet into heels.
Give me something that’s dreadfully whimsical.
Jack has made it out alive.
With a smile.
But the little boy hears his cry.
Grasping for life-
Shut tight.
Light off.
Mar 15, 2010
Mar 15, 2010 at 9:16 AM UTC
Am A Pitter Patter *** Head,
A Jibber Jabber, Purebred, Med Head.
A Drop Dead Disgraceful, Well Read Ned
With A Bed Head.
Behead The British Boredom,
Vanquish The Evil Before It Tells Them Who Told'em.
Simon Says, Simon takes, Cause It Was Simon Who Sold'em
The Fear, That Fear, This Fear That Holds'em.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
jumping jumbled thoughts
hop-scotch, double-dutch, criss-cross
getting lost in mish-mosh
scratching a vinyl
stuck constant skipping,
unfinished rounds of loop-de-loop spinning
speeding down stream
leaping across time warping lilypads,
memories interrupted by what-if daydreams.
my brain places haphazard bookmarks
when it runs into a lump,
then hops on a new train
ka-clunk ka-clunk-clunk ka-clunk,
tripping over decaying stumps
and mountains of over-processed junk.
always falling back to distraction,
instant satisfaction
was taught to me habitually,
so i look the other way when
my will bends instantaneously
at the mention of insane
raucous romping renegades.
i throw hand grenades
to prevent unfinished fragments
of insight from cementing.
wishing my words would
spit themselves out,
or dive off a cliff to utter calamity
cause effort is lost on me -
passionless revere
and bottomless see-sawing.
just stick me slack-jawed
in front of any cookie-cutter size of
plastic rectangle-god,
they all repeat the same chant
commanding me to stare endlessly at
screen after screen after screen after screen after screen -
my screaming pacified by flashing lights
and buzzing jibber-gabber.
infinite scrolling consumes isolated nights,
meticulously crafting a self-projection
made from inverse other-reflection
to deflect nagging fear of
detection and rejection.
can you really hear my inflection
from this typeface
and condensed pre-packaged mind-space?
i feel like i'm speaking,
but feedback is empty and misplaced
only muttered out by thoughtless mistake.
well once i pin me down
ill stick you beside,
and we can melt into cork board
a collage of disintegrated insides.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
If you have no life at all
let others follow your dirge
come to Facebook
where the lonely live
Write your pathetic jabbers
meet and make friends with other low life's
see the pics of smiling losers
then add them to your buddy list
Why not let everyone into your life
tell them your inner most secrets
become a Facebook freak
with the useless at your feet
Oh sad and lonely Facebook freaks
jibber jabber all day and night long
join the community of Facebook freaks
can you really be that sad, that wrong
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 5:06 AM UTC
The red hair sticking out
The dimension that it spout
I'm in and out
Like a burger
Hamburger hot
Flaming hot like
A Fire burning up a cauldron
Moving forward like we can't
Move without the binding
Of the green face, we can't mind the
How can they mind the, like a diamond, golden rock
Hard, but can be done, hitting can be self-taught
It's the plot for all to get to the top
Why we lying like an animal, another atop
Can't stop an Alpha male
Got to make it
Hot
Get dropped cause it hot
Cool and refined diamond gliding inside the paradox the Earth has
some souls bound
held down, shooting rounds out.
The man worth more alive than dead, work comes again and gold makes new friends.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
Jibber-jabber
jibber-jabber
make-up,make-up
soju.
Try to hear
If you're ok-
"Yah! already told you."
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 7:43 AM UTC
Jibber jabber gobbledee-goo
tittle tattle engenues
verbosely nosey Velcro verbs
sibilant smacks or lips a purse
wealthy whacks stickball whips
no tweet or talk but mailbox spit
gnawing down our chews of cud
converse with street rubber tongues
pinky-swore on Bazooka gum
summer wonder learning none
we Schwin & Huffy bike the day
child hood friends what else to say?
especially at that age...
Teeny tiny laughter dust
we race like Del Mar champion studs
no babble trouble wordy sting
our Super 8 remembering
"look no handle bars!"
our arms for wings
young ole boys California Kings...
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
i feel so stupid i get sad over the
dumbest **** but god **** it i
wish i didn't have to feel like
some kind of ***** secret i
want to know why what
other people say matters
so much i want to know
you're proud of me i want
to feel important to you
i'm so tired of feeling
like i have to hide for
you to like me
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC