"numbskull" poems
Ah, Pinocchio--povero burattino°--
Always in a scrape; always in a jam.
The irresponsible, wooden-headed numbskull
Couldn't help but fall for every scam.
A walking, talking stringless marionette,
Pinocchio really would have had it made
In a modest home with babbo°° Gepetto.
But, instead, the foolish youngster strayed.
Ignoring the advice of the talking cricket,
Pinocchio EVEN smashed it with a hammer.
That right there should have been a reason
To throw the little rascal in the slammer.
The Fox and the Cat had no trouble
Dissuading the puppet from going to school,
Thus involving him in a series of adventures
Which often made him look like a fool.
The Fairy tried to be a good influence,
But Pinocchio's lies caused his nose to grow.
Constantly ignoring responsibilities,
The misguided boy, suffered constant woe.
(Swindled of his money, hanged on a tree,
And saved just in the nick of time
From being eaten, Pinocchio had
Too many adventures to fit into this rhyme.)
Fleeing with his lazy school chum Lucignolo
To the Paese dei balocchi,°°° there Pinocc
Turned into a donkey. Of all his follies,
This one had to be a masterstroke.
Once again a puppet, Pinocchio was swallowed
By a giant Pesce-cane,°°°° and then guess what!
The foolish boy was finally reunited
With babbo Gepetto in the fish's huge gut.
NOT until Pinocchio thought about others
And proved he was an honest and caring boy
Did his fortune start to change for the better,
And the stringless puppet became the real McCoy.
Does Pinocchio by any chance remind you
Of any politicians out there at all
Who fail to listen to expert advice
And thumb their noses at common protocol?
And speaking of noses, we can also see
Politicians' noses grow as they tell lies.
Lying to themselves and to others as well
And ignoring our best interests and flouting compromise.
Such politicians--unlike Pinocchio--
Have strings to pull when performing for the masses.
The more they avoid solving REAL issues,
The more they end up looking like *****
They also love--these clever burattini--
To sell a bill of goods and promise many things.
But someone out there--or some corporation--
Is slyly and cleverly pulling their strings.
Do you ever wonder if these same politicians
Ever think about or care how you feel?
Will they eventually--as did Pinocchio--
Prove they have what it takes to be real?
°(burattino/i) - poor little puppet
°°(babbo) - dad(dy)
°°°(Paese dei balocchi) - Playland
°°°°(Pesce-cane) - shark
- by Bob B
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
(n.) The low rumble of distant thunder
The sky soon shall shed its tears,
I sit outside I have no fear.
I imagine myself on the pale hot shore,
wiggling my toes in white sand,
laughing at the idea of rain.
What numbskull could think it would rain?
I have heard no thunder
but my ears were full of sand.
I did not feel my eyes fill with tears.
I made my bedroom door the shore
and I was an ocean people would fear.
I had never felt this much fear
clouds filled my eyes and down came the rain.
The storm now covered every inch of the shore
and my words became the loudest thunder.
I awake in my bed, wet from my tears
and I wish I was in the sand.
Oh, I wish I was in the sand,
not drowning in a puddle of my own fear,
not filling my lungs with salt-like-sea water tears.
My wishes are wicked away like sprinkled summer rain.
They are as far away as the low rumble of distant thunder.
They come and go as often as the shore.
I open my door, greeted by the rising dawn shore
and I step on the carpet like it is the white sand.
There is no more thunder,
but there is still fear.
I sit on the back porch, and feel the morning summer rain,
and wonder why the sky here, always has tears.
The sky fills its own eyes with tears,
and the sunrise still reminds me of the shore.
I wish that in the morning, it was not allowed to rain,
that it had to be crisp and dry like summer sand.
That way I do not have to fear,
the low rumble of distant thunder.
Oh, the morning showers are the sky’s jealous tears, he wishes he could be a sun rising in the sand
He rumbles, ”The morning sun rising with the shore is so much more pleased, he never cries, he never weeps! Please do not fear,
the rain, but the rumble of low distant thunder.”
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
*they say he was a clever ****
*the cleverest **** around*
*there were no *****
as clever as him ever found
his Dickie manner
smarter than all the rest
which proved beyond doubt
that he was the best
**** became a legend*
for being so sharp of mind
never had the world
seen such a brilliant kind
*the expert **** known*
near and far
his absolute brightness
made him a star
but sceptics had another
*opinion of ****
they saw that he was
a numbskull brick
you'll always get
an opposite point of view
from folks who have a defter
more insightful review
*they say he was a clever ****
*the cleverest **** around*
*there were no *****
as clever as him ever found
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 6:51 AM UTC
Dee-dee tugged
at the hem
of my long white coat,
as I stood
on the children's unit
of the mental hospital,
hands by my side,
looking around me.
He tugged again
with his small hand
clenched tight
on the hem.
What do you want
Dee-dee? I asked.
I looked down at him
his fingers clenched tight.
He pulled me after him,
saying nothing.
I followed him,
walking in small steps
so as not to step on him.
We came to the half door
of the ward kitchen,
where he pointed
with his a finger
of his other hand
to a plastic beaker
on the side.
Dee-dee, he said
in monotone,
pointing jaggedly.
I nodded,
and he released
my coat hem,
and I walked in,
and closed the half-door
after me,
and picked up a beaker,
and held it up.
This colour?
He expressed nothing,
just stared.
I picked up another beaker
of a different colour,
and held it up
for him to see.
He stared,
and said Dee-dee.
I took the yellow beaker
to the bottles of squash
on the side.
Orange? I asked.
He expressed nothing,
just gazed at me.
I picked up
the blackcurrant squash,
and held it up.
Blackcurrant?
he stared at me
as though I
was a numbskull.
Dee-dee,
he said pointing
at the lemon juice
on the side.
I poured lemon juice
into the beaker,
and went to the fridge,
and poured water
from a plastic jug,
and then half filled
the beaker.
I handed it to him
over the half-door.
He took it with both small hands,
and looked inside
the beaker,
then sipped a mouthful,
and walked off slowly
with the concentration
of a tight rope walker
across high wire.
No thanks or gratitude
or show of further interest
if any or I existed or would,
he stood by a window
with his beaker of juice,
and sipped,
his small hands clutching
the beaker with little concern,
no sensation to know
or history to learn.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 3:27 AM UTC
having breathed secondhand
smoke all my life, and
having never taken
a liking to veggies,
I can hardly be blamed
for being a bit
dull, a bit of a numbskull.
and having seen
too much greatness in others
having known
too little in myself, I can't help
but cut myself up
trying to be better.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
colossal
When did buildings decide to tower so high?
perhaps history told truth, civilizations need
to be toppled by forces calamitous
the machine chews on; sly, colossal horror
humanity outstripped.
tired
I try to keep my eyes open, but I'm so tired
there's no quiet spot left
Just want to rest my candle, but it blows out; still
perhaps, when that lea calls one day
I can rest a bit: no more fencing.
In the silence
You beckon attention with slanted diffidence
but indifference puts paid to embraces advancing less.
They come to you, insidious and a kind of shunning occurs
which numbskull holds the bag of water over your convictions?
In the silence of your perambulation, despite bidding a quiet tongue,
the hissing from the charnel nearby escaped you; and it was dark.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 4:53 AM UTC
"Aww.. Another numbskull hipstercrite? How cute.
Don't drink the 'before-it's-cool-ade!'
You probably already have, haven't you?
Lemme guess: before I heard about it?
Y'know: on second thought, please do."
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
It's been perpetuated. Archeologically timed, primed and adjusted. I am organically, a tartly steamed wallflower, hair wined from the petals of a dragon's breath, queen of ten sheets all blue and green like the nips of the Chesapeake Bay, tongue heavily cheeked, I am the bulb beneath the shrines of your muck, I am your weak-behind-the-knees, wallflower. The hue you pasted against the fours of your walls and only remember when your eyes trace your skies from the ceiling to your bedroom floor.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
This fool doth not consider himself wise,
writing paltry poetry difficult
to read and/or actualize
methinks perusers of great literature
snub nose how I miserably advertise,
laughable attempt to aerobicise
fifty plus shades of gray matter
lobbying showy words agonize
zing effort perhaps best to cauterize
near petrified glob - boon
for scientists to analyze
baffling laboratory technicians
unusual crenulations
a profound surprise
pitiful peremptorily doth apologize
unlike verbalization feasible
after webbed whirled fist size
terra incognita reveals numbskull years
wrought yours truly to anesthetize
smelting, squelching,
and suppressing emotions
scored how tree rings annualize
environmental conditions definite
premature imp of the pervert
poe fella lifetime channels,
where bullies did antagonize
upon death requested autopsy authorize
zing eager scalpels to apprize
miniature dried river bed
formerly streams of consciousness
lake never seen before engendering
crowdsource to hypothesize
baffling every expert,
how terrible fate did baptize
ala lemony snicket series
of unfortunate events
multiplied power bajillion times
number only Google could surmise
obvious tell tale signs did brutalize
as if smacked upside the head
one unfortunate gladly apparently
suffered maelstroms of armageddon size
poet chars evidently
succeeded to burglarize
more successful than Watergate
psychological ploys hackers
noninvasively did cannibalize
(perhaps bored furloughed
government employees)
albeit noninvasively deeming
imposible to canonize
resultant cerebral corpus
understandably did capsize
entire body politik (Democrat)
faced, booked on hatred did demonize
verbal assaults indicate
suffering did caramelize
cerebrum, cerebellum and brainstem
resembling burnt offering
impossible to categorize
glommed hardened integument colleagues
hard pressed to characterize
highly rendered anomaly,
hence unfair to criticize
erratic schizoid personality disorder
quite evident amyloid plaques
did significantly crystalize
definitely explain aberrant quirks
resultant incessant emasculation
unquestionably led him to demoralize.
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
Iceberg inside of my heart
winter storm inside myself
clouds pass through my eyes
feel them evaporate in my head
Ive got a numbskull
a numbskull
thats what you said
Playing a game of cards against yourself
the dealer is the joker too
and if the kings the one who wears the crown
then what does that make you?
A Numbskull
Ive got a numbskull
thats what you said
Write in my will "Numbskull"
Anesthesia in my brain
at the bottom of a fishtank
a decoration in the waters from where we used to drink
you stare deep within
see a reflection of your skin
and a numbskull staring back at you with a wide eyed childlike grin
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 4:27 AM UTC