"pinocchio" poems
If I were a witch; I'd cast a spell,
And put an end to lies men tell.
I wouldn't enchant their ****** nose,
But the place from where ***** flows.
I'd raise my wand, purse my lips,
And call the World to witness this,
*"When men lie without a flinch
Their ***** shall shorten by an inch
And if they try to spin a tale
Their ***** shall, decrease in scale
And if they raise a deceitful stink
Lo and behold, their **** will shrink
Every time they make up lies
Their ***** will contract in size"*
Making a molehill out of a mountain,
Will affect their natural fountain.
And planet Venus in the sky will look bigger than the ***** in their fly.
They will have to altogether give up lying if they don’t want their manhood dying
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
Half man, half tree:
Describe limbs with leaves
And when the reader reads, looks only at
One part: wood
but not sees
(Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal / 2010 - Parañaque)
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 2:00 AM UTC
Time moves on and people revert back to their old ways leaving chaos in their wake.
Spoiling memories, past and future.
I am not a toy.
I can't be tossed about the room. I don't work on demand.
I am Pinocchio.
A Marionette without the strings.
Free to walk the world.
Free to sing.
Free to dance and move to the pace of my own drum.
I spoil no one.
I am me.
I am independent.
Stop trying to tug at non-existent Nylon strings because I will not be controlled.
I don't like to be ordered about.
Left feeling lonely and sad.
Used.
I do what I don't really want to do.
We fight on new levels each time we are together.
I cover up my tears and woes.
Put on a happy face.
Im sick of the stormy weather.
I break promises and I lie to protect crimes and sorrow.
I am a Monster.
Dec 31, 2009
Dec 31, 2009 at 6:11 AM UTC
Certainly not the intention
Nobody wants this rodeo
Sudden crisis intervention
Apologies to Tokyo
Like most things it started out small
I now feel like Pinocchio
Seems like things ran into a wall
Apologies to Tokyo
Now perhaps we did overfeed
Seems to enjoy finocchio
That doesn't explain the stampede
Apologies to Tokyo
Next time we will take it slower
try use less braggadocio
keep close by a grenade thrower
Apologies to Tokyo
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
You lying ***
You so and so,
You didn’t know,
That she would go?
As if the general
Didn’t tell you though,
You’re claiming ignorance
And putting on a show
You lying ***
You so and so
Keep it up
And your nose will grow
Just like the puppet
Pinocchio
You’re trying to reach
A new plateau
You lying ***
You so and so,
You paint a picture
But you’re no Van Gogh
You’re gonna fall
Like a domino
See you belong
In a minstrel show
You lying ***
You so and so,
You hired her
Don’t cha think
We know?
That you’re duplicitous
As world leaders know, yo
Like Canada's Justin Trudeau
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 7:16 PM UTC
. what?
between MC hammer...
and men at work...
there's a choice?
come on...
you could have given
me an easier question,
like... Debussy
contra Satie...
or, like...
egg yolk or egg white?!
point being...
i'd love to see
christopher lambert
play the role of
raiden in that... mortal kombat
game made into a motion
picture...
you know...
if i owned a PS2...
i'd still be a gamer...
but i never owned a PS2....
or the metal gear solid 2
gaming experience...
not the PS1 experience
fighting ****** mantis*...
you know that hack / cheat...
when you switch controller
slots...
when ****** mantis* is
giving his grandiose speech..
and you switch the controller
ports, so that in in the game
you're not predictable...
final fantasy 7?!
completed it with a walk-through...
sorry... homework...
that being said:
all of Friday night and all of
Saturday morning...
and some Tenchu....
wacky-Jacky...
cow later chow,
enter mein...
choppers chop chop...
these days?
i game...
when i take a ****
i figured... if there are people who
take a book to the crapper...
i'll take a game...
war robots....
you know what's fascinating?
the interactive applicability of
a game...
team-work...
mesmerizing...
the whole gaming
structure drifted from a narrative,
to a congregational dynamism...
solipsism unraveled...
i dig the whole team work,
while taking a ****
love it... 5 stars review...
but am i a gamer...
do i not think that
a.i. is a revamp of Pinocchio?
no...
but metal gear solid?
a ******* solid game
on PS1...
you would be talking to a gamer
if i was allowed to buy
a PS2 console...
oh right...
i read books and listened to music,
and ended up writing anti-routine /
anti-technicality poetry /
anti-rhyme poetics....
my bad;
"we're" calling a revision
of chess in play;
yeah... sorry...
i was never into paragraphs,
with dialogue interludes...
for me...
poems were always above
a structural stature of paragraphs;
something to do with
haiku or... whatever came out of
Godzilla's mouth.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC
He was lonely, as was his heart, carver
Of wood, he searched upon forest &
Glade till before his eyes laid sight of a masterpiece,
Home he hurried
Carving,
Smoothing,
Varnishing
Not noticing or ignoring the black knot
But unbeknown, this was a deeper
Problem. Rotten, decayed black festered
Within not showing on the outside,
But things are missed in joy,
Things that will haunt, but he was finished
His boy of wood stood before
His so tearful eyes, your only wood
Only inanimate, sitting before my weeping eyes.
Heard where his whispers
Upon a night were they asked back,
"You are of sound heart"
"You are of compassion"
"You will have a son of wood with life in his heart"
As he looked upward,
A sight befell his reddened eyes
"FATHER"
Words fell forth unto his ears,
"Did you just speak??
"Father"
He hugged upon wood given life,
"Son"
"Son"
"A boy of my own given life"
"I love you son"
"I love you father"
His nose grew,
leaves sprouted forth,
"Aaghhhhh"
As Pinocchio snapped what grew forth,
And throw it upon the floor,
In pain he reeled,
"Son be calm"
For lies will be greeted by growth
Shall a lie be told, only good boys
And girls realise that honesty will be rewarded.
With that he cuddled his father, you know
Not love but I will show you unconditionally
Till you understand honesty also love,
Upon those words both bedded
For the night was late and father was old,
But he never slept, upon the floor
Part of him that broke off,
Now tainted black,
As it had succumb to its chosen fate,
As he fashioned upon tools
A living weapon,
"Blackest as night"
He felt connected
They were apart but one.
Into the bedroom he crept,
"Father"
"Father"
"Awaken"
Startled old eyes widen, I have a gift,
As he plunges it forth,
Son whhhhy I loveeee youuu
"I am but wooden given life"
"Blackness rots inside"
"It must feed"
For without it I will cease,
When I was just cold
It was my end no difference to any one.
And now given life
That is all that matters this night,
And with that he ****** into his
"Fathers heart"
He felt relief inside no more ties
But he cried splintered tears upon his
Blood they mixed upon the floor
He had extinguished his first life.
He needed to stem the flow as
He felt the veins rooting further
Life was his not easily given up,
The town fell silent that night,
As he fed well, he charred his
Finger tips black upon once so tanned,
So to feed with both knife and hand.
He would travel the world, death in his wake
All thought
"How unique"
"How harmless"
"How sweet"
But when the hunger craved,
Life was bled, life was ceased
All for the rot to not **** this wooden boy
"Rotten core in a boys shell"
Prey his nose does not grow just a little
Because your time in life will be up.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
I use to laugh at ironic things
No punishment for the bad deeds
The Bible says that good 10 fold
The universe returns to us in gold
That fairytales and nursery rhymes
Exist to scare and keep us in line
But on this day fate stepped in
And karma it seems is a comedian
A lesson weaved throughout every line
Carefully crafted as a warning sign
It was a day like any other
As usual jumped in the shower
Quickly washed and rinsed my hair
Noticed too late that it was NAIR!
Every luscious lock and strand
Fell out completely in my hand
What seems like a sick joke being played
Or demented parts a malicious prank
A plot unfolded my part the lead
The lines straight from a horror scene
Like laws of nature or earths gravity
The rules we bend to suit our need
Like a boomerang’s invisible path
It seems to follow when it comes back
Even the ocean and it’s changing tides
Needs the moon’s persuasive side
We are the keepers of what we seek
And what we sow we indeed will reap
The nightmare that we fear the most
Comes back to haunt us like a ghost
Like Peter Pan and Captain Hook
Just a good story in a children’s book
what if the earth gets bored of us
And decides that we are entertainment
those characters we read as kids
Like Pinocchio or the 3 little pigs
Sleeping beauty or the ogre Shrek
You thought was funny as a sketch
Brought to life would pose a threat
Although to you this seems far fetched
The truth Ive written has not been stretched
I hope you read this and know as fact
What you put out there will soon come back
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 8:47 AM UTC
His words were delicately dipped in rationality.
Each lie was well thought out,
perfectly imitating the definition of truth.
Reassuring promises slipped from his lips,
like steaming cheese from a slice of pizza.
I was nearly tempted to take a small bite,
knowing the irresistibly of his delicious concoction
would lead to my devouring of the rest
and an eternal heartburn.
But logic protected me from his lies
like a hood shelters a head from shattering raindrops and forceful winds
that can easily cause a mind set in stone to weather and crumble.
His eyes traced the angles of my face,
searching to see if I had bought his false advertisements.
And what he discovered was that I had not;
I was not too blind to see the Pinocchio in front of me.
May 13, 2011
May 13, 2011 at 5:39 PM UTC
Abbie hailed a yellow top cabbie
Brenda had a sister in-law named Glenda
Cate ran late on her first date
Delly ate seven bowls of lemon jelly
Edwina drove to the town of Catalina
Fran burnt her finger on the very hot frying pan
Gwen had a strong yen to go and see her aunty Jen
Hope bought her husband a towing rope
Isobel fell under the magician's spell
Joann took her mother on a holiday in a caravan
Kylie went to the dentist with her brother Wylie
Lesley liked listening to Elvis Presley
Marcia enjoyed eating a freshly baked focaccia
Nell saw a turtle coming out of his shell
Olga lived at the top end of the river Volga
Primrose had a Pinocchio nose
Queenie knitted a multicolored beanie
Ruth could never tell the whole truth
Stacey loved playing dress ups with her friend Tracey
Tilly behavior was always rather silly
Una bought a house in the suburb of Yagonna
Verity wanted to be a well known celebrity
Winifred never stopped taking about Alfred
Xena was presented with a court subpoena
Yale told her teacher a tall tale
Zealand ventured out into the bushland
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC
Pinocchio
I want to be a real boy
not a lying decoy
wooden girl doll
a little too tall
lack of hips
couple snips
to get the hair
that I can bear
as mason jay
things’d be okay
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
The sky is red
The Earth is flat
Life is eternal
I am over you
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
Let's tell tales
tall enough
to make Pinocchio
blush
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
glistening
morning dew
the sky
a golden hue
you’re in bed
with someone new
you are in love
with only you
you say we’re done playing
this hurtful little game
ruining the reputations
of both our names
but when I suggest
we start taking things serious
you respond by telling me
that you are still curious
about the bodies with which
you haven’t yet had sx
every time you say it, you break me
like I’m one of your objects
you think I don’t know you?
we’ve already met
took me a while
didn’t realize at the outset
your face is different
now you’re a brunette
but the game’s always the same
and it hasn’t changed yet
say whatever you can
just to make her wet
say what she wants to hear
and what you want, you’ll get
“tell her she’s the only one you’re talking to
her dress might hit the floor”
“tell her that you care
she might let you make her sore”
“tell her you can’t breathe without her
she might let you go hrdcre”
“but if you tell her that you love her……….
then you’re guaranteed to score”
so I know what you do
and I know who you are
and right now you’re in bed
with Red Crop Top from the bar
she’s still sleeping so you text me
“I love you,” with a heart
wow...
even Pinocchio’s nose couldn’t stretch that far
you’re in bed
with someone new
so the blame
goes to you
because I can’t be happy
without you
but I can’t be happy
with you too
you break hearts and promises
it makes me blue
if only I could
get over you
I can’t get over
while I’m still under
you’ll never love me
that will be your greatest blunder
you make my heart break
can you hear its thunder
I wanna text back
but you’re with her
I’m sure last night
is still a blur
quick! put the phone down
she’s beginning to stir
she’ll say “good morning”
with a seductive purr
you’ll search your mind for a name
but you can’t remember her
“was she really worth my pain?”
my mind will wonder
but I decide to reply…..
“I love you too”
glistening
morning dew
the sky
a golden hue
and you’re in bed
with someone new
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 2:16 PM UTC
*Throw up,
now strip your fear from your illness
speak of dogs chasing dolls
but don't know the difference between
one's inner-self and a mirage.
Feel the sweat trickle down
yeah that putrid aroma
take you away from humanity.
Fear stricken eyes
sense of belonging
it makes you want to choke
run along and find your missing link
it's just that easy.
Turn your head and break my back
blue, yellow and green
it all makes sense now
brake your bones on a tightrope
and seek ye who snorts ecstasy.
follow the purge into an army of rebellion
Tick Tick Boom !
there goes your imagination.
taint my vocabulary
who soars within the bars of psyche.
I lost my self in the meadow
find Bambi and Pinocchio gambling on steroids
get lost in your creativity
find a haven in the flames
listen for her soul
I hear she has the best intent.
Seek purification in
the arms of a sinner
no use looking for redemption in wasteful youth
now darling fade into the night
for the dark will comfort you of all your despair
Brandy + Whisky...*
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
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
the clouds looked like they were suspended there by strings. and you were the puppet master for this show. you called all of the shots and there was nothing that I, as a simple puppet, could do. you were hypnotic, mesmerizing me as I followed your every instruction as you moved your hands about. that's all that it took; a simple hand movement. I couldn't stop myself, I really couldn't help it. I had no choice but to fall into your every word and trust that every action you performed was for me. my heart. my soul. my well being. however, you were truly only putting on a show. it was for audiences' entertainment. it was never for me, or even remotely about me. you then retired from your position as a puppet master and moved on. as you have left me sitting on this shelf, I am tortured by her presence in your life. yet I am but a puppet, your puppet, and I cannot seem to break this spell. if only I were like Pinocchio. maybe if I were a real girl, you'd love me too. -hvj
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
Fate, the absolute tyrant -
Brings me to my desk,
And I sit down to vent
This infernal night,
As prose or verse,
Or utter hogwash -
My wasted emotions -
Which some termed rhapsodic.
I promised myself not to cry -
As the day would dawn,
And I'd wheel down the aisle.
Making myself fall prey -
To another trade
Of cash and silver and solid gold,
A car and bungalow and so much more
- Of which in detail, I wasn't told.
Though I was called a beauty
Who could leave people dazed,
With two curvy dimples,
That lit my pretty face.
People never touched me
And would look at me with shame
Tell me I looked fragile
Once they knew I was lame.
I grew within four walls -
Comfy cushions and space
And it wasn't my legs, feeble
That restricted my pace.
It was love from parents
Siblings' scorn and care
That kept me from the wisely world
To go outdoors, I never dared.
I grew up crawling on my limbs
And seeing people walk
I never wished for them to stop -
Only prayed that they wouldn't talk!
For it was not their legs, I longed for
I reveled for what I was!
I only hoped they applied thought
Before pitying, how crippled I am!
I grew up watching the world go by
Each day and night would fly
Fantasizing with what I had been blessed -
My free and 'abled' mind!
I dream of a world - filled with trust
And friends who would 'walk' with me
Who would talk to me for who I was
And not offer sympathy!
I wished for love,
And found mine, divine
In a fairy tale -
Ironic indeed!
I sang love songs,
Wrote mushy poems
Painted wild dreams -
All to him, which would eventually lead.
You must have known this little boy -
Though a flaw, he did make history.
"Pinocchio", he was fondly called
And was known as a puppet with zeal!
It was not his quest for love that struck
Nor his zest to live
For it was his gait with wooden legs,
In which I could identify me!
But my dreams were thwarted
When to a man, I was entrusted -
(Or rather, on me thrusted)
One - with no love, but legs instead.
Along with blessings
For him to take along
Ample gifts were bestowed -
To keep us betrothed!
And now I await
To be proclaimed his wife
In the presence of a world
Which always kept me deprived.
It will be dawn
And I will soon be gone -
Yet I will yearn
For my Pinocchio to return!
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 10:21 AM UTC
This is no Lament,but an
Ode.I'm on my last hook of
The tune,as I hear voices hollers
On my back.this positivity keeps me
Locked on my de javus.
I'm livin' life like a video,
Onto press forward to my
Ambitions.I'm too proud of
Myself.
I'm on my utmost,every dream
Ends a picture perfect,as I imagine
Myself holdin' a throne at my
Closet.
I'm no Pinocchio but I iPaulistic
Art.im 'til live to the birth of
Next century,'cause I'm the
Third World War Soldier.
I'm a wanderer in disguise,searchin'
Triumph at night.
Guess my dreams ain't real,
Just livin' greatness of my fantasies.
Oh!!this is an omen.
I'm no Osama,but still a Pisces
I vandalize world of neysayers,
Forfeit negativities.
I separate dark and light
'Cause these street lights
Still shows me life on
My grind.
I'm down floor to my knees,
Bow down to all loved,losted
Zulu warriors,for Shaka to
Flourish my greatness.
Dear God,may you please sprinkle
Blessings upon my life,my path
Is grey a winter season.
'Till death takes me,but my
Dreams will forever last.
And if i die today tell me
I will make it through hell,'cause
Heaven is where the heart is.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 6:00 AM UTC
A wooden boy
A useless toy
Lifeless I was
Till the magic
Of your words
To live gave me cause
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Some say your greatest enemy is yourself
That lesser you inside, that little puppet, that elf
Strings to your fingers, strings to your toes
One to your spine and one to your nose
You can tumble and crash and he’ll be unbroke
Witty and gritty, as elusive as smoke
Post tumble’s when he’s most likely to speak
His strings are strung tightest, whenever you’re weak
Not to wait then, until you are broken
Give him the stage and he’ll have already spoken
He feeds best on virtue, this gritty little elf
So feed him his share, as you would your belly’s self
Virtues is the sort, that means then not vices
His tastes may seem bland so be weary of spices
Heed not this advice, and we’ve a puppet…
Left to his own devices
Not worth getting clever, don’t saw at those strings
You’ll soon find out they’re sinewy things
Introduce yourselves; it could help if you’ve met
The you inside you,
that mischievous marionette
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
Whether I'm afraid of liars or real boys,
I'm not sure...
But they seem to walk hand-in-hand these days.
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
Not all Married men are
inaccessible to a past true love
Especially mentally united.
Not all honorable unmarried men are accessible
for affairs in the love arenas
Some married men are a Knight to someone special
without any extra-marital stains.
My King lost his sword by me
all without my intention to do harm at all but mare duty to love my man more than I loved myself.
Once a married poet found his sword by me by
my virtual loving ways
and at a distance.
My old true love King of hearts thinks of me
walking, sighing love poems about our road not taken.
My avenue of the death.
I feel like a blindfolded sword gold hearted queen
who has lost her pharaoh
and can't be consoled.
I need my Knight in real life
My beloved king of hearts!
My once upon a time?
My willow tree of life.?
My ancient Pinocchio
hiding wealth name reign
and heart of gold?
Oh come to me I plead you.
I love you so.
~~~~
Karijinbba.
~~~
Nov 6, 2021
Nov 6, 2021 at 1:09 AM UTC
I close my eyes,
the image rises into view.
I want to forget,
pretend it never happened.
How could you do this,
did you know what you were doing?
Or were you simply to evil to care.
I cant believe my trust lied in you,
when all you did was
lie to me,
lie to my family,
and lie to your own.
Unlock the door and let me out.
Remove your hand
from over my mouth.
Let me go.
Let me run.
Let me scream from the pain
of my soul being broken.
You're a Grimm Brothers' Pinocchio,
except when you lie,
It's not your nose that grows.
I want to run from the liar liar,
because when his pants caught fire,
they revealed his true desire.
This isn't a game,
This isn't fun,
You're lips spat poison,
before my innocence was stolen.
I was just a child
No older than five.
I did nothing to deserve it
How could you?
How could you?
How could you?
I lied to myself
for ten years.
I erased a memory
and lived in ignorance.
But it didn't give me bliss,
because ignorance could not undo
what you did to me.
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 12:05 PM UTC
this is too urbane for me
these glimmering, polished fantasies
with images and memories
of what it was like to be real.
my nose has grown too long
with all the lies that i have told.
i'm afraid these concrete-walls
are closing in and i'm about to fold
in paper halves
or break in plastic twos.
or shatter in glass pieces
or splinter in fragments of wood.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC