"pip" poems
They rest all over
whilst I was rooted to the ground,
the water acting like superglue
as my limbs stretched out.
Towards the clumps of land
rods of steal and wood weaved,
to connect and *****
that which we call humanity.
But there were abuse on the rods
formed by hands who'd calloused hearts,
poison coursing through their veins,
but not a single thought was given
for they were innocent in their brain.
Said limbs and rods spiraled out,
as nothing was left to chance,
intertwining everyone's destiny
in majestic flare and grace, grand
like a ballerina's dance.
But the poison was too corrosive,
the termites were too much,
as everything eroded, imploded,
crumbled and buried under
mounds of earth.
But today is different,
a new beginning, a new life.
As if the gods have willed
something better to arrive.
Indeed they came: Ports
forged from purity anew,
where fresh legs are delivered
and old legs whisked away.
For no matter how dark it
was, is, will be,
even during the night,
there always is and will be
a pip of light.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC
Gloomy mood cheered up by the rain
It washes away our sorrow and pain
Lets cherish the nature's moment
Hark! the pleasant tip tap of rain
a rainy day
Boys,girls,young and old
Man,women, rich and poor
Do not resist to fall in love with
The thunder, drizzle, hail or snow
a rainy day
A curious frog hops up at the sky
Its right time to leap high
Craok! he calls intimately his
Better half to celebrate the rain
a rainy day
A plumule peeps out the pip
His first sight sees the drops
The crops dance along the stalk
The grains in wheat sips the drops
a rainy day
For me
The rain hides my tears
You can say its my fears
To lose my love in rain
Don't worry
Its a drop not my tears!!
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 3:55 AM UTC
Wouldn't it be weird if
JFK was reincarnated
as Monica Lewinski?
Buddha probably
ate better butter
than Ghandi.
If we keep fighting
the divine fellows
we pray to
will be too afraid to return.
This isn't ******* Highlander.
Christ, what a hilariously insane movie.
They probably show that
to people who drink caviar & say things
like "pip pip!"
Either way,
we're all related.
Otherwise than that,
let's all be
LOVE.
Except for people
who commit genocide.
May they be reincarnated
as Hitler's final excretion
as he killed himself;
including ******
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 8:58 PM UTC
Above the forest of the parakeets,
A parakeet of parakeets prevails,
A pip of life amid a mort of tails.
(The rudiments of tropics are around,
Aloe of ivory, pear of rusty rind.)
His lids are white because his eyes are blind.
He is not paradise of parakeets,
Of his gold ether, golden alguazil,
Except because he broods there and is still.
Panache upon panache, his tails deploy
Upward and outward, in green-vented forms,
His tip a drop of water full of storms.
But though the turbulent tinges undulate
As his pure intellect applies its laws,
He moves not on his coppery, keen claws.
He munches a dry shell while he exerts
His will, yet never ceases, perfect ****
To flare, in the sun-pallor of his rock.
3.1k
Raspberry pip boy lingered and hung around,
He was sweet, but with a tartness that juiced up your mouth,
He flowered in Spring, and swelled my heart up through Summer,
And I plucked him, and I ate him, and I begged for another,
But as I chewed up, my heart slid down my back,
As I was gulping down raspberries my tooth had cracked,
The raspberry pips had sunk deep and rooted
In between my poor teeth, how I hollered and hooted
"RASPBERRY PIP BOY ISN'T AS SWEET AS YOU THINK,
HE STAYS FAR TOO LONG, I'M STAINED BY HIS INK.
I CAN'T WASH HIM OUT, BELIEVE ME I'VE TRIED,
THAT RASPBERRY PIP BOY HAS JUST RUINED MY LIFE!!"
A former tooth model, my contract was lost,
To that Raspberry Pip Boy, his seeds, and tooth rot.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
Satan's Hotel
The waiting land of better days
just faded away just like that
the fields of righteousness are few
the fields lie in darkness
after the flame died away
Loneliness and darkness filled the soul
Drugs and cheep woman and men
That are selling their souls
Life had no meaning to them you could
see it in their zombie eyes
they live in Satan's hotel
the coldness of their souls is out to take
another young life into drug world
understanding the ways of the Life of
Darkness and gloom
Kids are walking around
thinking they are doing just fine
Just to find their
Mommy and daddy's killing of there
Souls to another blow
of the drug pip
oh, just look at their lives
look what they have done
they are walkers of the night
words has been spoken
Will **** one's life
If you would walk by
Satan's hotel you could feel the control of
the lost souls lost in the eternal blackness
never to be seen again.
something new has come
into another life
taking the demons in their mind
and a pipe in their hand
the young and the old under
the control of Satan's world
Parents looking all over town
wondering how to find their kid
then they hear there
Kids learned a new trick
for the angel of death
has arrived in that
cold sad lonely night
when another has taken a life
broken down of the drug world
Satan's world
when you check in to Satan's Hotel
the way that they act
is no way of coming back
to the way of better days ,
You can see the evil
in there eyes's an urge to ****
the desire is a thrill
to **** the good in another Soul
once upon a time
they had Jehovah in their lives
walked in the light
all of that had changed
when they said goodbye
and they let Satan's
in their lives by taking the drug pipe
Dark angel is all over
the place hunting for new souls
to take into their control
the broke word
that killed dreams of the young and
the old nobody there forgave sins
they just keep making them
The Drug fights take a blood bath of the knife
Behind the walls you can hear it all
The cry's of the night when
a baby cries to be fed why it's
Mommy is out doing what she knows best
So now the baby's grow up
to be the victim of prostitution
Of preconception and true damnation,
the young minds
Reaching out into a world
that is lost every time ,
They can no longer see
the twisting emotions that they live in
they will longing for
the person they once used to know
But that was long ago
Know they live in Satan's world.
Poetic Lilly Judy Emery (c)
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
You tripped off your feet
Then stepped on something that pip,
It goes boom; and you go woom!
You reached the heaven,
But got rejected—
So you entered hell,
Full of wiles, trying to be
The villain in their eyes;
Yet, Satan was out of the house
Fighting angels and God for wows;
With no choice Charon ferries you
Back to where the happy are few.
Aug 26, 2025
Aug 26, 2025 at 10:36 PM UTC
I'm Bored in Brighton
Can't you see?
I'm locked here in this mansion
with just my family.
I'm Bored in Brighton
Yes, I've traipsed the streets
From Church to Bay to Hampton
I've jogged along the beach!
I'm Bored of Brighton
The Daimler's in the drive
The staff? Well they've just up and gone
All this to stay alive?
I'm Bored of Brighton
The twins are going mad.
And Rupert? Rupert's all a-moan
It's just so terribly sad!
I'm Bored of Brighton
The cavoodle looks a fright!
O heck! O no! It can't be so!
My Lulu's ...they're slightly tight!
I'm Bored with Brighton
You people are the pitts!
Try Lockdown in a high rise
And don't give us the pip!
Jul 20, 2020
Jul 20, 2020 at 7:30 PM UTC
spirited ferret
rare, ear hair tipped white
frightened pip carefully snaring
darting pairs flipping
clipped wings, carted
shipped riggings sing
lark songs
darkness brings
wronged Nips
angered and singing
ears ring banging hangers
tearing string Narcs protest
ingesting *** freeing boxes
rocks bling
****** tracks shear hearts
parked rack blesses
black guests
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
APPLE BLOSSOM
This tiny fairy, let us say has attitude.
Most little things get on her pip!
Sitting amongst fragrant blossom
Is not nice, no pleasure trip.
She has to put up with frilly petals
Leaves and the odd red spider.
It is the constant supply of buds
That to her is the decider.
She would like to go and pray
With the other fairies at the chapel
Not sitting amongst blossom
Waiting for the inevitable apple.
But as with all other fairies
She has her work to do, her duty
To sit there all pink and frilly
Feeling fresh and very fruity.
She tirelessly waits, and she waits
For the blossom buds to flower.
Then it is another waiting game
For the apples to appear very sour.
She once considered jumping ship
And sitting with the Fairy of the Douglas fir
But after some serious and careful thought
Decided that it would not really appeal to her.
But she is happy I suppose
But still would like to alter direction
Is it little wonder then that this Fairy
Has such a rosy red complexion.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
Ribble rabble rim ram
wabble wing flip do pip pop
Slipper hinder thankly to dur
jammer gamtit slingly tripon
wishel fromage wankly underwash
Rapt crapt frappe wingnut
Shmoozing rosefront biging whippoorwill
aminacry killicat deedly nono
Allah Akbar Achoo Amen
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
This tiny fairy, let us say has attitude.
Most little things get on her pip!
Sitting amongst fragrant blossom
Is not nice, no pleasure trip.
She has to put up with frilly petals
Leaves and the odd red spider.
It is the constant supply of buds
That to her is the decider.
She would like to go and pray
With the other fairies at the chapel
Not sitting amongst blossom
Waiting for the inevitable apple.
But as with all other fairies
She has her work to do, her duty
To sit there all pink and frilly
Feeling fresh and very fruity.
She tirelessly waits, and she waits
For the blossom buds to flower.
Then it is another waiting game
For the apples to appear very sour.
She once considered jumping ship
And sitting with the Fairy of the Douglas fir
But after some serious and careful thought
Decided that it would not really appeal to her.
But she is happy I suppose
But still would like to alter direction
Is it little wonder then that this Fairy
Has such a rosy red complexion.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 8:23 AM UTC
with the lust
of a 14 year old ***** boy
playing hooky
eyes blink orbs
riding the bumpy
**** grind yields
a mental representation
*her ***
a Coney Island ride
reciprocity of tongue and groove
a big dipper
and a hot dog
in a bun eating contest
i eye the shape of her legs
brahmana of form
**** cake butter scallops
with a prune skin ****
***** dark little sister
going along for the ride
with hidden talents
*om shakti om
holy donut with a zit*
rubbing myself
a peripatetic command
like I had the junkies itch
in a bearded clam sea
of black nail claws
like musical notes
that tear flesh
hegemony of *** art
*make me bleed *****
Tangula The Exotic Shake Dancer
moves infallible hips
and dancing hands like octopi
tickling bloated *****
ta-ting go the finger cymbals
smiling she called pip squeak
colossus of her dreams
flick tongues the meringue
licking the
shimmering tantra pistol
finger up the **** hole
brings a prostate exclamation point
and a throat gag lyric
for a wagon train
of wrap around lips
zooming spit and spray
wet like scungelli
her *******
like cloud cookies
****** my mouth
gasper boy
chokes on
a marshmallow fire
i kiss her feet
and work my way up
the slippery slope
a starved dog
…
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 8:54 PM UTC
Nothing is as sweet as you
but you case the hardest pip
May 5, 2022
May 5, 2022 at 10:32 PM UTC
I won the bloomin' lottery,
Cor blimey so I did!
No more scrubbin' socks for me,
I've won ten million quid!
I'm goin' on a ******
Nuffin's gonna bring me down;
I'll be the biggest spender,
Gonna buy the whole **** town!
My new found wealth is awesome,
Have you seen my mansion pool?
I play tennis in a foursome,
And my coach is really cool;
On Wednesday's its Pilates,
And on Sunday's it's Judo!
Now I'm jetting to the Maldives,
Toodle-pip -- I have to go!
One finds oneself most indisposed,
To do this interview;
One's butler will be swift deposed,
For letting you get through;
One will accede to your request,
Tho' Sir, this is your lot;
Despite the wealth with which one's blessed,
One has not changed a jot!
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
A waxy, dimpled orb in my hand,
A tiny sunrise, sweet and sharp.
One nail-blade incision and the
Peel tears away when you find the foothold,
Then coursing acid fires through your cuts and bruises,
Burning and tasting wounds with sharp recoil taste,
An acerbic spark.
Pith lodges under my nails,
Tang cloys beneath my nose.
The fruit now pulled apart, the ceremony over,
Segments of the sun lie exposed.
Eat half and half a year you'll remain.
The stringy web of white
Latticing the fruit-flesh
Is a pain to unentwine
What with the juice.
An explosion when you pierce the pocket,
And the gamble of what the burst will be.
Hedge your bets by eating the tasteless ones too.
Then the bathos of a pip
(the pebble inside the fruit, too small to be a stone)
Punctuates the sweetness you'd been enjoying.
Now the fumbling spat to get it out.
And after all the effort it's flavourless,
And you ask was it worth it?
Wasn't even really orange.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC
We got drunk
In the moonlight
On a veranda
We weren't able
To pronounce
Some crops of
Cops
Spewed out onto a
Garbage caked
Street
We laughed and
Shouted and
Squealed as they
Peeled and skidded
On their
Plastic heeled
Boots
Were we
Mad back than,
Or just
Happy?
We were drunk
On the veranda
At dawn and at
Midnight
We were alive in
Time where
Time was drunk
And didn't want
To BE time
Humanity
Collapsing and
Taking over
The world
For GOOD
This time
Evil was a
Pip squeak that
Got caught cheating
On their
Science exam
While we
Aced it
Hung over
From the
Veranda
Night embraced us
as
The morning
Clothed us
On that veranda
We were
Quite
Taken
Care of
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 6:18 PM UTC
(Read in your best British accent)
Well what can’t I say
Of the so called Baylo Brits
Their weird, crazy, and wild
Smoking herb, and jiggling ****
They giggle and laugh
Acting all so very pip
They’re ****** wankas they are
Especially Fritz and Kip
Not from England
Though they do have a friend named Jack
Witty as hell the blokes really be
Its just sanity they seem to lack
First Hannah said **** off
She’s a lovely poppet of a girl
And all this first came about
As they passed around, a pearl
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 5:05 PM UTC
** ** ** **
don't make him foe
hee, hee, hee, hee
please look at me
pip, pip, pip, pip
walk, walk don't trip
pile, pile, pile, pile
keep on your smile
so, so, so, so
keep aim you go
trip, trip, trip, trip
lest you should slip
hi, hi, hi, hi
God bless you joy
bye, bye, bye, bye
goodbye goodbye
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 8:37 AM UTC
Lambent lassie, how I needeth thee today,
I wilt be thy loving man, doing all that I canst;
To make ourn contour's swirl in a dance-
As we pass betwixt the seraphic
Trace. Chaperoned my darling,
Head resting upon head, inner-
Being in rapt, none feeling
Of dread. Mine pinkie do
I giveth thee, lock onto it-
And hold, rest thy fret inside mine chest,
Taketh a breath, inside this soul.
Kindred spirits way back from old, living young,
Homeward bound; igniparous by ourn kindling sound's.
O' fortitude wilt I hath when the time is not yet for meet,
Yet verily mine lass, tis one stroke of an hour we wilt greet.
If I hath to crawl the pit's of the abyss, slithering through the deep, if I hath to waken to a strange cosmic minute, or dieth a death of sleep. If I must endure the second's away from thee, only but for a lifetime, I'll patently awaiteth mine Jane, an eternity with thee by mine side. To glance in thy eye's and to hold thy hourglass waist, to kiss thine honey like a bee to a bloom, to maketh ourn bed upon white roses wherein spirituality is in tune. A bride and groom of times afore, we entered in by the portal of Yahweh's door, never to turn back; ahead we look on. Planting ourn pip's to what lieth ahead, happiness up upon the hill of ourn homestead. None alas expressions, for this place we art meant, together to be, mine baby, mine treat; of the patience we built up, ourn amour shant be in rent, as with the finest of spices I shalt lather thy feet.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedication
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
I carved her face from a pumpkin,
spooned out the flesh to a red bowl
traced out the lines where I wanted
her eyes to be.
I retrieved her heart from a pip
unravelled from the lungs of a satsuma
it was sticky, oozed a milky wine
so I wrapped it in tin foil.
In her sockets I placed half-boiled eggs
sliced down the centre
the yolked irises dripped down
orange turgid cheekbones
When she woke up, the walls shuddered.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 1:16 PM UTC
Why do i still care is probably too simple a question
it implies an easy answer like “her eyes” or “her smile”
but it isn’t that
it’s not love at least not yet i’m too young
so it isn’’t that
think think think
there’s been other girls
four in fact
but what did they not have?
what were they missing
what made them Roseline and not Juliet
does “it” exist? it’s possible i guess
maybe nothing tangible could account for what i’m feeling
i doubt it but it’s a possibility
So what is it?
Seriously(tension builds)
Maybe it’s because you still care
sure I only know because of the grapevine
but i’ll just assume it still counts
I refuse to believe im the Pip to your Estella
I’d like to believe I have too much pride for that
Pride pride pride
maybe that’s the answer
I messed you up pretty good the first time
but then again you did win round 2
so maybe it’s just a game
a game my mind is just set on finishing
Maybe you’re just evil
crazy i know
really crazy
lunatic crazy
but still is it that crazy a thought?
you say you love me when you don’t
you say you don’t love me when you do
you say you miss us
but somehow “I” am not included
Maybe I have simply ruined you for myself
I’ve built you up in my head
to be something you simply can not live up to
It’s hard to explain but to me at least in my mind
you are a different type of “perfect”
Flawed in all the right ways
proficient where it really matters
In my head you don’t make mistakes
In my head you choose me first so you don’t regret it later
In my head you act rationally
In my head I create fake things
So to answer my question I must decide on an answer
and i choose all of them
because that’s life
that’s what it is
you’ll meet a girl who you feel is perfect for you in every way
except for the fact that she isn’t
and it won’t make sense
and it will drive you crazy
and you’ll write some stupid poem at a late hour trying to find an answer to your question
until you realize it doesn’t matter
because you’re young and she’s young
because there are mistakes to be made
nights to be forgotten
people to meet
places to see
and all the while there is time to sit down
to really ponder and finally come to the conclusion
that You
yes You
are not the one I end up with
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
How to expand your vocabulary,
Quite incidental, actually.
Feed the need, that craving inside,
Bury the pip, symbols collide,
Confide in a way brevity insists,
Cast from heaps of molten lists.
Impossible sentiment proven not,
Paramount structure, stir the ***
Rot and dross swathe the beast,
Desperate for light, look to the East.
Irate in anguish, confined to doom,
Within the partition of the Lazarus tomb,
Displeased, they persist, clang the facade.
The home, the locale, of our very own God.
Indelible musing forms the rock,
Which from overhead, the horde did mock.
“Crock is what you mean to me!”
Bellow they do, around Judas tree.
Not ‘till the end, their faith to heal,
Endeavor to crack the Devil’s seal.
Reel and teeter, the flock ****** to awe,
The phonies true, their passion raw.
Once impalpable, begins to soar
Above them all, a Monster no more.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
She wears an old fashioned shawl
laced wool of camomile
flecked with seeds of apple pip brown.
Wading shin deep with stork length legs, though lacking all brittleness,
she hems the thirsty sand line of shore
that's forever sipping foam
and swishing froth from the sea's diaphragmatic shifting.
The drag of each stride breaking
v's in their wake
all too soon dissipates
only to be replaced
with every surge and **** and lull.
She recites a poem as she treads the shallows
Hardly a whisper above a whisper
Blending lullaby syllables with the rhythmic surety of the tide.
Every word a billowed sail
carrying the craft of verse upon ripples and surf
back to the memory of one long lost across the sea.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
we stared at it for a good five minutes,
children around a rope swing body too afraid of the drop, so he jumped.
One of us poked at it, jabbed it 'til its petals fell off:
thrown flowers from the overpass above,
lightly dropped, not a touchdown distance here,
well,
whoever misplaced them was distant, over horizon line, past Joey joke,
they were stumbling upon well written blurbs of people
rendering all reading pointless, we're all the same, these flowers don't matter,
or they'd seen their other tired and said
please hide your luggage, dear, it's slowing us down
then stormed out and off, flowers in tow, Elizabeth's got her Way, let's leave everything here.
For this show of all things cute and affordable from Clintons
was an IMAX, Nolan Cameron's *** crack screen-shot of despair,
another pop at the small guy
kick him whilst he's up,
don't let that year 2000 pip of pulp sitting hammock in his stomach fool you,
that's perfectly normal,
carry on,
a meal for one in a **** themed restaurant,
this evening's more pointless than a mortgage on a salami,
sharpie on whale skin, what's the point in that,
probably something.
We weren't a we, but we should've been,
that would've been fun, something to talk about later on.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC