"libs" poems
JAY
nothin
yep
what
crack
dogpoop
lol
bananas
Hitchcock
what da ****
like mayo?
got beef?
Hussein
Mad Libs
Donkey
Asian Jesus
Brown Rice
Cross-Country
Mexicans
Asian Eminem
Royce Da 5'9
Skype
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
your words make me
ache as far as a torch
stretched between murky-
blank pages
do not wait to scrawl your
truths until heavy resignation
creeps over my head like
a dark shawl
do not wait -
- I miss
everything and nothing
and (god
**** it)
the philosopher was right in
assuming a search for completion
leads only to a sort of frustrated
compassionate silence,
so
tired of being tired of growing
weary with assumptions,
mad libs of the spirit, only
fill in the line with whatever
you dream might be,
no
let me know you, the real
uncensored and true
(I can love) you
I feel like a child being spelled at
to keep the F-I-L-I-B-U-S-T-E-R for
adult ears only but even though
I admit the fact
- I know next to nothing
my heart desperately
wishes to know
you, everything.
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 10:13 PM UTC
Sticky ribs
A dozen mad libs
That we couldn’t fill in
Saying no to gin
In a ***** martini
Pulling off that bikini
What was all that worth?
Maybe nothing
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 2:54 PM UTC
you are not a hospital room
you don’t have to keep everything
pure-white and sterile
you are ugly red clay on the walls
covering up your bruises with
pink cotton-candy fluff and
bright yellow smiley-face stickers
that you saved from first grade
living out of your car
and calling it a slumber party; sleep-away camp
far away from the monsters beneath your bed
you don’t have to paint your cheeks
with roses, leaving out parts of you like
a mad libs story we played to pass the time
on long car rides to the coast
we can sit in silence
while the world around us buzzes
with all its uncertain chaos and
my soul will find yours
in the space that rests above
this mess of existing
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 5:33 PM UTC
_The night was clear, the stars were there and the fields were dim and the dirt was cold but your eyes were warm and your libs seemed soft so I leaned in for a kiss and we met at love_
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 9:13 PM UTC
speaking only
through moves;
we are playing games
of chosen mad-libs
and retracing Uno steps
to find ourselves,
to return back looking
for multiple axes
so you or maybe I can
call bingo!
but I move, without you seeing
you return to reprise tension
lessening these enveloped expectations
rolling single digits
i'll fall behind, though you follow
this trend we seem to allow
hoping to land
on the same space
so that piece of you
may continue
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010 at 1:10 PM UTC
Feel great, feel cool, feel nice. Nice people, nice things, nice ice. Ice cream, ice blocks, ice cubes. Cube, pyramid, cone, sphere. Circle, circle of life, what comes around goes around. Ring around the rosey. Tulips, daffodils, daisies, pansies. Scared, frightened, freaked. Surprise, happy, content, friends. Social, shy, outgoing. Going out with friends, going out of town, going to bed. Sleep, cozy, pillows, blankets, nighttime. Stars, moon, owls, darkness. Dark hair, dark chocolate, dark night, Dark Knight. Batman, Superman, Cat-women, Supergirl, Flash. Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch, Captain America, Iron Man, Hulk, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Thor. Pepper Potts, Peggy Carter, Jane Foster. Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, William Shakespeare. Elizabeth and Darcy, Romeo and Juliet, Jane and Rochester. Love, tragedy, comedy. Happily ever after, never, future, past, present. Wishes, desires, wants, needs. Thoughts, actions, words, deeds. If, when, now, how. Questions, answers, research. Study, work, write, draw. Art, paint, opinions, facts. Math, history, grammar, science. Religion, faith, beliefs, devotion. Marriage, together, apart. Separate, different, change. Old, new, used. Abandoned, left, alone, useless. Useful, helpful, needed, wanted. A place, person, thing. Adjective, verb, adverb, noun, pronoun, proper noun. Mad Libs.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
Write me a line or two
A progressive tone from you
Why holding my head down
I am no longer wound around you
I swear I was sulking it in all
A pseudo reality to rise and fall
And despite my sublime awakenings
I find myself again human and waiting
Patiently in line with elevator music
Filling once sincere responses
With empty ad-libs. Blank
A thought has just sank
The dawn now has its essence
Talking now with others has substance
Walking in the rain now has its claim
I don’t know, what or whether to blame
And if I wake and no longer see
Its just because i have not been me
Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 7:16 AM UTC
shut down the gubmint
it ain't workin no more
no end to tax and spend
libs gonna make us all po
shut down the gubmint
don't matter nun no how
unessential personnel
will enjoy a day off now
the gubmint don't funkshun
the gubmint is no good
the gubmint should go away
we'll manage our own hoods
everyone grab yer shotgun
fill the bathtub with water
firemen and cops on furlough
perps we'll give no quarter
the skools we can do widout
common cents is all we need
only teacher unions will be angry
publik skoolin just a liberal creed
won't mail the SS checks
financing lifestyles of idle poor
dis socializm needs stoppin
kick the commies out the door
national parks should be solded
only tree huggers will care
Koch Bros will snap em up
cut trees, strip mine, run job fairs
as long as the Army
keeps bombin the Tallyban
we be safe from Evil Doers
its all in God's good plan
so shut down the gubmint
its time to slash and burn
Teabaggers to the rescue
Obamanation gotta learn
You Tube Music Video:
PO PO Shut Us Down!
Led Zeppelin
When the Levee Breaks
Oakland
4/5/11
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
the pride of the pack was born an outcast
but there comes a time
when the alter becomes the ego
imagine the masks as spotlights
they alight a path but are more show than moral
the stage has been set for a play
a 10 character monologue
schizophrenia is the curtain
able to unveil applause
This Is Life
with an 80 year run time
shorter if you break a leg
you will wish for luck to strike you
you will wish to strike the set
you will wish to set the stage on fire
but passion strikes less than ad libs
you will learn to improvise
to take cues and act accordingly
the best leaders always do
cadence and countenance
cadence and countenance
cadence and countenance
these are the two C's to making the cast
but try as you might
you cannot change what you were born into
you are an outcast
the best leaders always are
and that is why you deserve the spotlight
take your mark
~ front and center ~
remove your masks
and take a bow
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
Confusion seeps into the cracks in my brain
Filling the missing spaces with assumptions
My world is a game of Mad-Libs.
Fill in an adverb for how much you’ve fallen, an adjective for how he hates you, a synonym for false friendship, and a part of you that’s broken
I have now fallen to the earth’s crust, burned and turned to dust
self confidence disintegrated to ash; slowly burning from the inside to out.
I cannot tell you why, but he hates me beautifully.
My friendships are filled with semi-sweet enemies, forced smiles and broken deals. And to think, I thought our childish contracts would be real.
Blood still pumps through me, but my heart is broken.
People attempt to complete each story in my pages with their own wild words,
believing they know what the ending entails.
But truth be told, whether it’s their words or mine, others will always laugh at the story that crosses their eyes.
I could start over and fill in the blanks myself.
Say that I haven't fallen but flown, how he hates me for not being next to him, scribble in that my friendships are harder to break then diamonds, and that nothing... nothing is broken.
I could, but it would be meaningless.
The words may differ but the reactions will remain the same .
because my world is just a big funny game.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 1:16 PM UTC
1.
The scent; amber
The color; pine
The touch; echos
The sound; blind
They are
All
of the senses
Intertwined.
2.
Sweet Robin, alight... takes to wing
Bruce's laughter, a booming thing.
Mark serenades, Michelle My Belle
Rog recants exploring tells
Scott japes, and keith's ad libs
Karen oh Karen, heaven forbid!
Artists Dreamers Escapists Poets.
Jesters Lovers Genius Knowers.
Alarmists minimalists
Extroverted introverts
Fighters flighters
Together
Loners
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
She is gone.
Pack importance neatly away,
Strike dumb the dialogue,
Blur the details,
Lay dreams in the dark.
Dismantle the stage,
Make each player retire,
Tear up scripts,
Hush all ad libs and quips.
Lose joy in white noise,
Forget breath,
**** desire —
Let all souls expire.
No beauty awaits,
Beyond pearly gates.
Kick out the chair,
Let me swing in dead air.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
Joe still can't get
the senate chamber to agree
that he has a well thought out
budget strategy
parts of his budget bill wont get passed
this calendar year
which will cause
the Libs and Nats to all jeer
expenditure
must be well reined in
the stack of treasury notes
are rather thin
none of the belt tightening
measures getting in
the impasse means the government
wont have savings in the tin
the country needs to have
the books in the black
if they don't pass the bills
we'll always looking back
Clive Palmer, The Greens and Labor
wont give ground
so the budget papers
will just keep hanging around
parliament will soon
be on a summer break
with our current fiscal balance
being at stake
we're all hoping
that common sense will prevail
as our nation's economy
shall continue to ail
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
Coming out of lust, disguised as love.
I’ve come close.
Touched mistrust, envisioning decisions,
old ****** positions, and bubble butts
The goings tough.
I’ve been known to get going.,
knowing not where to, the story keeps going.
I never stop roaming.
Rolling, another one up, writing with the homies.
Stories of ******* it up, and the tales of glory.
I’m exploring options that they’re ignoring.
It's like if you’re bare, you’re boring.
Snoozing and snoring.
O'hare deported my last ounce of care
this morning.
A fare afforded to the very important.
If you never heard of it, sit there and ignore it.
Business minded.
I found that, the more ground I gained, the faster the climb is.
In this winning climate, my ****** is still undefined.
My rhymes like, fill in the lines.
Ad-lib these mad libs, to be killing the time.
I’m not feeling the times.
It’s like sit still or rewind,
straight chillin behind.
Cheap thrills, and refills
for the pills that I find.
Never ending cyclical vibes
Living the how, I got sick of the why’s,
and living with doubt.
Life is an imperfect present,
so I’m presently living it out.
I’ve earned where I am
so how can I go
giving it out, now?
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 2:59 PM UTC
“We don’t remember days, we remember moments.”
I remember four boys
willing to take in a lost kid.
I remember meeting him
in the middle of a winter night.
I remember meeting him
when we got lost among the rocks.
I remember meeting him
in an island bakery.
I remember meeting him
when I tripped into his life.
I remember that first gathering,
how awkward and nervous I was.
I remember not wanting to speak
for fear of ruining everything.
I remember mad libs in the dark,
how I never knew my turn.
I remember telling them my age,
for I am but a child in this world.
I remember talks under the stars,
how we were never tired yet.
I remember hearing his voice
and being surprised by him.
I remember adventures in the trees,
learning what it means to be mortal.
I remember learning his language
and completely butchering it.
I remember keeping him up,
how he claimed to never be tired.
I remember the sound of his voice
and the color of his eyes.
I remember his unique accent
and how mesmerized I was.
I remember the forbidden mine
that echoed with our laughter.
I remember the stories he told
and the memories he shared.
I remember hearing his dream,
how he wants to change the world.
I remember the way he spoke
and the hope he gave me.
I remember being nervous around him
and not wanting to mess up.
I remember when he called me friend,
how happy and proud I felt.
I remember his bad jokes
and the chaos he caused.
I remember his description of me,
how beautifully he thought of me.
I remember the strength in his words
and the safety I felt in them.
I remember how he stumbled
and how embarrassed he was.
I remember complimenting him,
how flushed his cheeks got.
I remember his infectious laugh
and the brilliant smile that joined it.
I remember how he treated everyone,
how he made all of them feel loved.
I remember seeing the universe in his eyes
and finally feeling free.
I remember hearing his voice
and how it shook with fear.
I remember his unique accent
and how choked up it was.
I remember him being nervous
and not wanting to slip up.
I remember how he stumbled
and how terrified he was.
I remember my skin
and all the blood it let.
I remember the pain,
how I went numb.
I remember the tears
and how they stung.
I remember my breaths
and my struggling lungs.
I remember it wasn’t enough,
that there had to be more.
I remembered my boys.
I remembered their fear filled eyes.
I remembered their tear-stained cheeks.
I remembered their hitching breaths.
I remembered their shaking voices.
I remembered their worrying hands.
I remembered.
I remembered
I needed them.
I remembered
They needed me.
I remembered my family.
I remembered
I couldn’t leave them.
I remembered to live.
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 11:32 AM UTC
And I get my head sorted out walking the block in the cool city rain, flowers pushing up through the cracks in chalk outlines, bones rattling all the way down Vine,
I’m thinking about home, about all the times we leave before we stay gone forever, about everybody who ever said a prayer for me in the dark of some bedroom, everything so quiet now, I can’t even hear the longing anymore,
And maybe that’s how it goes with things we love in the night, maybe they’ll all be post-it notes left on coffee tables in the harsh holy light of morning, stray paper in an endless archive of those who have forgotten,
and those who are forgetting,
And my blood hums softly in these rings of light, ready as always to become something else, sustenance to the ravenous hunger of another, something to pass the time,
And lord, I don’t mind,
Everybody’s gotta get by, after all,
Sedated by something, whether it’s a hand finding another hand across a crowded room,
Lips finding another set of libs beneath the glow of something neon and prophetic,
A few lines on the weekend,
An entire constellation of glass bottles, lined up on a countertop like condemned men waiting for a firing squad,
And yeah I’m still getting through it,
Doing better about it most nights at least,
But every now and then a howl will rise in my throat, some old curse come round again looking to get exorcised,
And ain’t nobody left around to show mercy now, the wind picks up, we talk all night in circles,
And she says,
Honey, it’s time to go home,
And I linger on the threshold,
Just long enough to watch the sun break over the rooftops,
And I give myself over, again,
To the terrible momentum of release
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 1:58 AM UTC
I have a[n] _ _ _.
It smells like _ _ _.
My _ _ _ is _ _ _
And isn't _ _ _.
When I feel _ _ _,
I _ _ _ a[n] _ _ _
Or _ _ _ a[n] _ _ _.
Go _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _!
Sep 5, 2024
Sep 5, 2024 at 9:11 AM UTC
Give me an adjective to describe this:
The _________________________ loneliness.
The itch that persists to _________________ my skin,
The ________________________ twitch; the urge to give in.
The voices that _____________________ me not to resist.
Whispering ____________________________ nothings in my head,
Death howling in the wind, a hand to ___________________.
Held ___________________ in my grasp, life slips away like sand.
- ____________________
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 2:43 PM UTC
I thought I was just getting by.
No. I don't want to do that.
Perhaps if I rhyme,
I'll sound fine.
No. No. No
It's all wrong.
I'll save you from the cliche
that I wan't to magically inspire you with.
I'll stop myself from attempting to sound clever
with my rehearsed lines that I claim are ad-libs.
I'll tell you straight.
I. want. to. feel. passion.
The kind that weighs your chest down
from the moment your in unison
and separate into harmonies
as an emergent part
yet still together as a whole
like unison.
The kind that makes you feel pain
breaking your back
when one has hurt the back
of your friend
because you are one.
The kind that keeps you struggling
because the journey it kills
but the results save
so you continue to walk, run, drag yourself
till the end.
The kind that makes you focus
on one in a million and five.
The kind that makes you perceive
a new perspective of a million and six.
I. want. passion.
I want to feel together with something, someone, anything.
I want it to hurt deep.
The more blood that seeps
The more colors of passion
there will be.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
Slither and slime,
on its way to the grapevine.
Mellow chill, is built upon the wheels.
Carrying the weight without feel.
Deep down, the drowning clown,
blasphemous cling, checked yet unsound.
Slayer sword devoured the golden horde.
Kings of men, perished and ignored.
Political intrigue, developed mad libs,
shunned the flowers and tailored the core.
Yellowing with decay,
the sun is to obey.
In the end,
we all go away.
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 12:31 PM UTC
I've been living too much to write
Instead of writing too much to live
Now I know why I hid in plain sight
Amongst frilly words and mad libs
Jan 31, 2022
Jan 31, 2022 at 10:59 AM UTC
My gun and guitar are never too far;
I wave the American flag.
My story is true as red white and blue;
You dam libs can be such a drag.
I talk really nice; I'm sculpted of ice
By chisels as forked as my tongue.
I just want a shot, some gold in the ***
They promised me when I was young.
Allow me the crass of a poet's bare ***
I cannot believe what I see!
Take all my gold, not everything's sold;
You can't buy the fight out of me!
The only solution to this devolution
Is coming together in light.
United we stand; take everyone's hand,
and promise to love through the fight.
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 12:36 PM UTC
I’ve grown weary, I’ve grown tired
Of being forced to play this part
In the latest losing production
This B-Movie of yours, out of sorts
All I’ve lately come to know
Is acting out this one role
While you play heroes and villains
This audience is struggling to cope
There never seems to be a script
To go along with the craziness
It’s hard enough to follow
The drunkenness of your ad libs
I’m not looking for a staring role
But neither am I a walk on
I hear there’s a part that’s coming up
In another film so wish me luck
I tire easily of B-Movies
Played out on the streets but not the big screen
As I ride off into the sunset
Let the credits roll behind me
Find someone else for your B-Movie…
Jul 31, 2025
Jul 31, 2025 at 3:28 PM UTC