"malarkey" poems
Gonna move to Qatar
ride in a gold Beemer
playin' songs for the Emir
on a ruby studded guitar.
Live in a silver highrise
go skiing in the desert
eat caviar for desert
singin' about the disenfranchised
and ruby studded guitars.
I'll be an expat in Doha
drinkin' with the monarchy
speakin' absolute malarkey
playin' tunes for all my brohas
on my ruby studded guitar
in Qatar.
r ~ 6/14/14
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
Each elbow edges back a bit
hands grasp the chair arm
Carbon levels in the atmosphere plummet as populations hold their breath in
anticipation
She moves with several smooth staccato shifts
Her hair swings like a tsunami wave
I try not to wave back.
I’ve seen piano keys with jerkier movements.
I’ve felt the world shift before
but never so smoothly.
She starts to stand, in slow-mo though
Even gravity can’t keep its hands off her for very long.
Somehow she strides
She strides!
Under the weight of that greatness
And after all the malarkey
She finally leaves the ******* room.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
come, come with me
on this backward path
of shattered mirrors
and sidewalk cracks
walk, walk with me
and listen to the sounds
of the wondering birds
and things the wind found
dance, dance with me
at a bashment of bashful bows
wild twists, sylph-like twirls,
and elegant falls
lay, lay with me
in a passage of dreamt things.
i will place my heart
in your palm and try, try to breathe
breathe, breathe with me
can you not let me go?
melt away the malarkey with silence and
cure the angry thoughts with “i don’t know”
speak, speak with me
confabulate, but don’t ask what i feel
for i’d be reticent, or worse,
pre-occupied from thoughts by what’s real
meet, meet with me
can you find me halfway
in a field of resplendence
at the end of the day?
run, run with me
get you wild (like untamed flowers)
make you leave
(he’s a forest fire)
fall, fall with me
Wonderland doesn’t hurt if there’s two
when the Queen of Hearts sees ours
she won’t even conceptualize what to do
sink, sink with me
when i’m drifting, drowning, and there’s nothing left
but promise me you’d swim to shore
if it was between loss and loss of breath
leave, leave with me
and shall the world pull you away
in my heart, I’ll keep the pieces
of the promise that you would stay
scream, scream with me
tell the air and the dirt and the weeds
what is dry, what is broken, what is hurt
what you need
hold on, hold on with me
to memories and tales of the trees
of climbing limbs
and freedom in little things
stay, stay with me
in this bleeding, beating, of hearts
don’t get too close, but
don’t go too far
trust, trust with me
though it's complicated
and whims take the garden signs
and try to repaint them
pray, pray with me
see, the petals scattered to the breeze,
are not a concise coincidence
but the story of an averred belief
grow, grow with me
i hope that love will show us how
it starts as a seed, then a bud
then a vow
dream, dream with me
of crepuscular magic and roses in June
droplets are constellations
and irises the moon
feel, feel with me
in your embrace i seek shelter
hands like daisies in my hair
feet intertwined, we're ivy, but better
wonder, here with me
we don’t know what we’ll find
but if you keep me safe, dear one,
i’ll keep you wild.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
Squall borne aloft, wildly brewing;
Erudite words or malarkey
Bustling and rustling and howling;
This poor mooncalf's soliloquy
Snow came to lay on rolling hills
Extinguished surviving embers
Absent warmth to counter the chills
This lone, tortured soul remembers
Spring arrived, flowers grow in bloom
Butterflies morphed to razor blades
Star! Save me from impending doom!
As this replete ice thaws and fades
Summer warms trees and birds above
Kiss from the breeze of gentle sea
My lady's heart billowed with love;
Much love to give, but naught for me
Hope, a sweet promise and a sham
Such a cruel drug, a poison
Sure to put a man in bedlam
I stand, steady as a bison
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 7:10 AM UTC
Some days I feel like I'm the only one sitting on land mines of havoc and malarkey in hazardous debris
These bones, This body
Can't hold the weight of the weary world
My mind thinks otherwise
You see the **** upon my face, disdain you say
My flow of emotions, rolling, unsettling I hold an exterior of persistence
Climbing the highest mountain
Pulling, pushing, holding, (my inner guides lead me)
Tenacious, determined, forceful, unshakable (my hardy heart wont deter me)
One day you will see my silhouette from the mountain top - Just wait my dear
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 2:34 PM UTC
Oh my word, I remember
every little part of that weekend,
right down to the three-piece outfit
I had purchased at Bloomingdale's
the evening previous.
You know, ya hear stories
left and right about people
winning tickets to this n' that,
but ya never imagine actually
being the nineteenth caller!
When I revealed the occasion
this baby blue ensemble would
be worn in, the cute little saleslady
paused, looked up, and said,
"Why bother seeing him anymore?"
And I tell ya, there's plenty
other, less Christian yearly
Graceland attendants who woulda
flipped their lids had they heard
such malarkey!
Still, I just couldn't deny it.
She had a bit of a point.
This was mid-70s Elvis,
mid-50s Elvis' drunk uncle.
He had gone from Rolling Stone
to National Enquirer in nothing
flat, it seemed.
So all I could muster was
an understanding smile, because
she couldn't help but join the
bandwagon, especially when his
gut got larger and the rumors
became more outrageous.
Still, their loss!
I say that to this day,
because what Little Miss Shopgirl
and the legions of non-believers
did not think to consider
was the charm in "has been" Elvis.
A week before this legendary
concert experience, I had been
forced by circumstance to purchase
my very first pair of bifocals!
It was also around the time,
I'm sure, Harry left me.
So, the main event, I'm there,
third row from the main stage,
seeing Elvis for the first time
since our crazed youthful years-
a bedazzled jumpsuit walks on stage,
and I'm on my feet before I know it!
There was a little less swivel in his
hips. He looked a little tired, too,
all those years of singing do that.
How did it feel, then, to see the King
make his way across a cheap fog
machine, mutton chops and
love handles galore?
It felt like two lifelong friends
growing old, losing all those
frivolous people together-
"Are You Lonesome Tonight"
was still asked with the same
dreamy passion in 1973.
I've still got the handkerchief
he threw to me that night,
**** near lost it when I
caught the thing.
It's blue with polka dots,
ya wanna take a gander?
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 5:21 AM UTC
I can't rip myself asunder from such a magnanimous prepositional
as this.
While the fishes hang from my window
like little ice-ickles in spring.
So foams the frosty beverage that tells the gills to sing.
Twilight music and the sonnets contained therein
have little left to offer us, save a right-winged jerry-bin.
So the muse of ages goes round and around and around
for the malarkey of a daffodil creates folds and hills
where none exist.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
I can't rip myself asunder from such a magnanimous prepositional
as this.
While the fishes hang from my window
like little ice-ickles in spring.
So foams the frosty beverage that tells the gills to sing.
Twilight music and the sonnets contained therein
have little left to offer us, save a right-winged jerry-bin.
So the muse of ages goes round and around and around
for the malarkey of a daffodil creates folds and hills
where none exist.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
Here
Is a timely
Noun to consider
From the Merriam-Webster page.
"Trumpery."
Note (at bottom) the list of near-antonyms;
what is the opposite of trumpery?
[Popularity: Bottom 40% of words]
trumpery
noun trum·pery \ˈtrəm-p(ə-)rē\
Definition of trumpery
1
a : worthless nonsense b : trivial or useless articles : junk <a wagon loaded with household trumpery — Washington Irving>
2
archaic : ****** finery
Origin of trumpery
Middle English (Scots) trompery deceit, from Middle French, from tromper to deceive
First Known Use: 15th century
Examples of trumpery
<claims for weight-loss products that are based much more on Madison-Avenue trumpery than on bariatric science>
Related to trumpery
Synonyms
applesauce [slang], balderdash, baloney (also boloney), beans, bilge, blah (also blah-blah), blarney, blather, blatherskite, blither, bosh, bull [slang], bunk, bunkum (or ******** claptrap, codswallop [British], crapola [slang], crock, drivel, drool, fiddle, fiddle-faddle, fiddlesticks, flannel [British], flapdoodle, folderol (also falderal), folly, foolishness, fudge, garbage, guff, hogwash, hokeypokey, hokum, hoodoo, hooey, horsefeathers [slang], humbug, humbuggery, jazz, malarkey (also malarky), moonshine, muck, nerts [slang], nuts, piffle, poppycock, punk, rot, ******* senselessness, silliness, slush, stupidity, taradiddle (or tarradiddle), tommyrot, tosh, trash, nonsense, twaddle
Related Words
absurdity, asininity, fatuity, foolery, idiocy, imbecility, inaneness, inanity, insanity, kookiness, lunacy; absurdness, craziness, madness, senselessness, witlessness; hoity-toity, monkey business, monkeyshine(s), shenanigan(s), tomfoolery; gas, hot air, rigmarole (also rigamarole); double-talk, greek, hocus-pocus
Near Antonyms
levelheadedness, rationality, reasonability, reasonableness, sensibleness; common sense, horse sense, sense; discernment, judgment (or judgement), wisdom
By: Robinson Bolkum
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
One cries from a foxhole
A tear splashes an urn
Some dance laced in bootstraps
Many diminished returns
Two shuffle tarots
“All in!” Shouts a third
Homesteads brandish wind chimes
Infant dreams lay deferred
A quiet malarkey
As hunger pangs ring
Piled high, bullion
Cages hearts and clips wings
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
would
in the screaming breeze,
a whistles sound forms,
in the winds,
the hibernated scorn of hidden violins,
strung together the suspense.
In the aftermath of silenced stare;
the glare from colours crystalline,
the subtle manipulation of light beams,
in nice dreams,
across the shallow lake,
whilst opaque clouds fade, pale.
In the sound of the backgrounds snarl;
in the woods darkness, black,
the music chooses ehoes between branches,
dangling in tone in the malarkey of
the pain of the mandolins gaze;
each pieces together with tiny,
frost bitten childs sized fingers.
The icy touch lingers for the seconds of death,
that last a pastime,
a lifetime of lust,
in the blink of the dust in the wind.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 7:51 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
By: Cedric McClester
The ruling oligarchy
Says it’s middle-class malarkey
To suggest they differ starkly
When it comes to the poor
Whom the rich try to ignore
Cos the haves now want more
Than they ever did before
The strong vanquish the weak
As the oil prices tweak
To the stratosphere they seek
And the profits are obscene
As they pick our pockets clean
That’s why most of us are hurtin
Not the case with Haliburton
Bush is a disgrace
But he does support his base
They’re the rich – in any case
We have challenges to face
And we are gettin queasier
Cos it’s not getting easier
Now we hear
The Green House gases
Threatens all our *****
But the legislation passes
That deregulates the gases
Which pollutes the atmosphere
That’s why global warming’s here
Bush is a disgrace
But he does support his base
They’re the rich – in any case
We have challenges to face
And we are gettin queasier
Cos it’s not getting easier
The ruling oligarchy
Says it’s middle-class malarkey
To suggest they differ starkly
When it comes to the poor
Whom the rich try to ignore
Cos the haves now want more
Than they ever did before
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
I can’t help somebody who thinks, or thinks he thinks, that editing a newspaper is censorship, or that throwing bricks is a demonstration while building tower blocks is social violence, or that unpalatable statement is provocation while disrupting the speaker is the exercise of free speech... Words don’t deserve that kind of malarkey. They’re innocent, neutral, precise, standing for this, describing that, meaning the other, so if you look after them you can build bridges across incomprehension and chaos. But when they get their corners knocked off, they’re no good any more, and Brodie (a character in the play, a would be writer) knocks their corners off. I don’t think writers are sacred, but words are. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones in the right order, you can nudge the world a little or make a poem which children will speak for you when you’re dead.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
In the fraction of a second
How could this Fracture of a sentence
Make a difference
You and I, we were gold but this
Plot twist between us is
Shifty at best and
Who’s to say it wasn't always this way
When the World isn’t always as it seems and this
Life was all a dream you and me
We coulda had it all
Live forever? Time we shall stall until it
Doesn't hurt almost at all... Like its
Kinda strange how when everything’s the same
Everything just stays like nothing ever changed
And hey, who’s to say? It might be kinda fun trying out
A world turned upside down
Plot twist
Now I know you and your story
The details? Frightful, sorta gory
Bad dreams keep you up, early morning
Before the sun logs in, snoring
You were thinking up revenge
On every shoddy friend
Who’d ever done you wrong
Like **** it, I’m strong”
But now it’s...
“Excuse me, I’m sorry”
I call you on your ******** malarkey
Plot twist
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
I'm I am completely fed up with people and their attitudes and actions
I can't tolerate no more of it
push me so much expecting no reaction
feeling the need to put give their opinions when not needed the past 22yrs I been Livin
they take kindness as a weakness
I told myself I wouldn't stoop to
Their level I'm beneath this
expect others to treat them good and ****
only to treat you how the last person in their life treated them like a *****
finally they feel like they have someone to do it to
expecting you to be sweet and sincere too
I'm completely fed up with they malarkey selfish actions
push me so much expecting no reaction
toying with you for instant gratification because their life is **** its self
No understanding that I am a ******* human just like you but with more love to show
More than living organism on this barren cold waste land we call home
I rather walk in this forsaken planet alone
I'm done with being this nice guy
no one can understand or accept
Fully in depth
push me so much expecting no reaction
understand or accept this no more mr nice guy.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
Mister Nut Bag circled the shop
spouting off mindless diatribe,
like he was a ******* gear-Einstein,
but he didn’t know ****
Everything he said was
total & utter malarkey,
that means some serious ********
He looked like he hadn’t climbed since birth,
like when he climbed down from his mother’s womb
& been eatin’ carbs ever since.
A complete carb ****** he was,
certainly not a ******** hiker.
I wish I could’ve been
not politically correct,
tactless & unsavory.
I would’ve said to
Mister Know-It-All,
you fat ****
**** a bag of *****
I guess everybody's got their place,
arrogance has none
in our place.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
there’s a safe space with birds peeking through mandalas and trees erupting from skies next to a fireplace that reeks of cigarettes and gasoline, it rattles like hearts do when they realize just how much they miss home, with two thrones behind tapestries that hide malarkey while sunlight sits in the driver’s seat as we track miles like tally marks with bleeding ears
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 1:54 PM UTC
Step One: Write down on a piece of lined paper that living is a-okay.
Step Two: Tell yourself that Step One is malarkey but realistic.
Step Three: Make a campfire and have some sweet shish kebabs with strawberries, marshmallows, and bananas.
Step Four: Burn the stick when you finish. (It'll be more satisfying.)
Step Five: Watch five or six episodes of your favorite show and regret every second of it.
Step Six: Learn a bunch of useless facts about a specific animal and relentlessly tell them to your family or friends. ( Or even a stranger if you are feeling dangerous.)
Step Seven: Jump/get throw into a cold pool and as you flail around feel the goosebumps on your skin and the weightlessness of your bones.
Step Eight: Throw a party, and clean up the mess the next morning.
Step Nine: Sit in front of a desk with pen in hand.
Step Ten: Repeat Step One and skip Step Two.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
gravity pulled my socks down,
me along with it,
all the pullings up,
all the King's men,
could not put
my left foot sock
right again,
my right foot sock,
oops, don't have one
this force of gravitational pull,
fearsome for it is the wormhole
we can see, most assuredly,
****** in-escapably,
just like this poem,
look fool, you poet,
grave gravity pulled you in
to reading this malarkey,
look how low you've fallen,
try one more time,
pull those ***** up against
thy very own nature,
for left-footed you are,
t'is a law, you know,
gravity grave pulling down
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
The Shaktic Yonied con-i-cative chronicle
Receptive magical majesty
Why do I insist to refuse the image
Which given to all for a being
I must, I must. but lust for sustenance
Greed gleamed gem, imaginative benefits
Illustrious acceptances held in receptacles
Analogous referrals for smarmy mastication
She: What a Be. The present of this presence
Shaking her out, letting go of these pretense
And obligative fashions
Of latching ons, to momentary ideals
Peeling them down, because permanence is the illusion
The banana tastes better without the Denial
Whittling woodwork
The sawdust agrees
We push, we push forth.. Hesitant to be forceful
Yet sometimes that's the force in it's own manifestation
When's the plan the being, and the being the plan?
Over exhausting contemplative complications
Isn't just a bean plant To eat the seed
And relish in her nourishment
But that want can be that active fault-line
Tectonically rupturing this productive structure
Impatience of the anticipating ambition
Crumbling foundation of her imaged experience
Perception is the adversary of all this malarkey
Projecting the doubt filter on how perceiving this reality
Realization of creation, the constant remembrance to strive
What's the precidence and where's my mind to?
Blind me! Blind Me!
To forget the exhaustive duty
Her beauty is so suiting
Long to fruit.
To be swooned so soothingly
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 11:12 PM UTC
This dog of a sun
And how it remains
As it stains the hole
Of larklights in blue
Obstinate nuns in the hold
As they fold on forever
What a blessing, Sue
To see vicious sounds
In the halls of commotion
Now we surround
With our teeth, amber glow
As it sows a piece of forever
Fever, fever honey
You know what begets
The regret that you feel
Dance in the garret
Now, I hear in my fear
The hounds of forever
Think of what will never come
And it breaks the hollow sound
Of sweet repetition
Where pain is not mentioned
Hold your lover sweet
And you will fall, complete
See, hear, taste that sibilance eye
I shan't cry, nor state why
For freedom, despite its size
Will fail me in time
Wallace, come here
See the face I faithfully
Made in the image of you
I hope you find
The beauty that you
Have lost to old forever
Goddess, be soft
Know you're not known
By the people that hurt you
Stay in your loft
And let the lamp resound
The drums of forever
Don't fall to greed
By planning for fates
That are best left forgotten
Knowledge will wait
Unlike the sun or the moon
For they deny forever
Think of what will never come
And it breaks the hollow wound
Of sweet repetition
Where pain is not mentioned
Hold your lover sweet
And you will fall, complete
Strenuous, this malarkey eye
Waning clock in tentative sky
Do not take life for granted
Even when not wanted
Strong Héloise
Lay upon me
With your shackled aroma
Let it release
And scatter away
In your piercing gaze of forever
Héloise, come to me, see
That I haven't stopped
My attempts to capture you
On a damp canvas
Of trickling hues
That dare to uproot forever
I'll start with your nose
And give you a pose
That mimics your stature
Rock in your chair
As shadows deface
Your grace, lasting and tethered
Think of what will never come
And it breaks the hollow wound
A sophomore face
With sweet murder's gaze
These gibbous hours cease
As the day finds peace
Your fur shambles so
Your fingers corrode
As the deluge below
Now blows us into forever
Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 6:55 PM UTC
hinting at hitting on
intersectional hinterlands
intersexual undercourse
underpar for underwear
off-course, of course
interCIS sissiness interests
rests a cisgender-ender
genders endanger engendering
male delivery of femaleman
chain letters in chain-mail maelstrom
higher matriarchy of the mail-room
hire patriarchal malarkey
good knight
and good luck.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
Boy saves girl
Girl so grateful she spits
Boy draws girl
Girl humps boy silly
Boy calls girl stupid
Then becomes popsicle
Goodbye King of the world
Girl blows whistle
Steals necklace
Gives everyone the finger
But at least her
Heart will go on
Or some malarkey
Oh, yeah!
Somewhere in there
A boat sinks...
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 2:15 AM UTC