"pokey" poems
Prickly pokey
I guess I'm kind of hokey
cacti are my jam!
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
Danny O'Dare, the dancin' bear,
Ran away from the County Fair,
Ran right up to my back stair
And thought he'd do some dancin' there.
He started jumpin' and skippin' and kickin',
He did a dance called the Funky Chicken,
He did the Polka, he did the Twist,
He bent himself into a pretzel like this.
He did the Dog and the Jitterbug,
He did the **** and the Bunny Hug.
He did the Waltz and the Boogaloo,
He did the Hokey-Pokey too.
He did the Bop and the Mashed Potata,
He did the Split and the See Ya Later.
And now he's down upon one knee,
Bowin' oh so charmingly,
And winkin' and smilin'--it's easy to see
Danny O'Dare wants to dance with me.
10.4k
i bought a cactus
the summer of my
eighteenth birthday
i picked it up from
the local nursery and
cradled it all the way to
my car so that it wouldn't
fall to the concrete
i had only just met the little guy
and i didn't want to lose him the
day i finally got him
it is quite stupid to buy and
name a cactus but
i felt very attached to the small
succulent that occupied the
left corner of my bedside table
it was a cute little cactus with
orange on his top and a long
green stalk with spikes poking out
i felt pretty satisfied because
even looking at this plant
made me smile
taking care of this cactus
gave me something to do
and it kept my mind off of you
for a while
maybe i connected with this plant
maybe i felt like i was the plant
i sure do feel like the plant
trapped
growing
pokey
all adjectives aside i still
am very much addicted to
caring for my little cactus
if it lasts through the summer
then maybe
i can too
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
meanwhile,
the Big Fat Yellow Bootay
was getting right tired of
waiting for the election to end.
so,
she set off down the highway
going ninety five...
"HOKEEEY POKEEEY!" she cried
as she gunned the engine and
threw herself in gear.
"HOKEEEY POKEEEY! MOTHER *******
twice she cried,
"HOKEEEY POKEEEY! MOTHER *******
this second time
for extra good luck
with the unfolding election.
cool Fall breeze caressed
her yellow metal,
her big fat yellow bootay,
a glorious day to
be out on a drive!
well, except where she had
come from.
beep beep
beep beep
always driving her
beep beep beeping insane!
it shore nuf was quiet
out this way!
she turned the shiny
silver dial to turn on the
radio.
'gonna have to get me
some better speakers
one day soon.' she thought
to her big fat bus self.
and what came out blasting?
"That's Alright Mama,"
by who else?
but the King!
Elvis!
Elvis has left the building
and now,
Elvis is ON THE BUS!
she didn't quite know all
of the words,
but what the ****
she sure could sing!
As the big fat bus
with the big fat bootay
was driving along,
singing joyfully,
she glanced in the rear
view mirrow and what
did she see?
why the ghost of Elvis himself
was sitting right there
right in the back of the bus.
He starts strumming on his
own guitar and singing,
'that's alright mama.."
so she turned off the
radio to listen
to the ghost of
the King,
Elvis,
himself,
singing in the back
of her big fat yellow bootay!
she also watched him eating
a lot of food
in the back of the bus,
her bus.
his ghostly figure
seemed to
fluctuate between fat Elvis,
and skinny Elvis,
like a seesaw.
by and by
says he,
(not the really fat one
but not the really skinny one
neither.)
'I need a pit stop.'
says the King
so the big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay,
asks,
asks she,
'you wanna stop at the next
stop & go,
or
the next
fizz & wizz,
or
my fav if you really
need a constitutional,
the stop & plop?'
at this particular junction in time
this ghostly King,
was in the shape
of Fat Elvis
but very cooly outfitted,
bellbottoms and rhine stones
or were those all diamonds?
note to self,
the big fat bus
squirreled away,
check on that.
are those real or not?
more mulha is always
good
and this just might
be mana from heaven
in the form of Elvis the KING
himself
and maybe just one
of those diamonds
will fall out and
get lost in me.'
mighty strange happenings
going on around here in this
big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay.
' the stop and plop little mama,' elvis replied
with that
ohhhh,
soooooo,
divine Elvis drawl
and that darling little
thing he did with his mouth,
but was doing now
as he was sitting there in the
back of HER big fat bus
with HER big fat yellow bootay!
OH MY,
it really is a
HOKEY POKEY day! she sighed.....
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
**only a ******* man could love a ******** poodle**
everybody knows poodle one of the smartest breeds,
not exactly a manly man's dog, but great to have around to feed,
feed you, when alone, and you need a good conversation
had me a good woman
she would say:
"hon, kindly fetch me this and that,"
**** dog would get her whatever she wanted,
me, didn't mind at all, loved taking care of her,
but the dog loved her more and be there and back
before I could jack my feet off the couch
she would say:
"hon, come near, give me a
nuzzle and a kiss, a cuddle and a lick"
**** dog, double quick, cause it spoke better human than most,
was in her lap burying her laughing with affection infectious,
before I could jack my feet off the couch
she would say:
"honey love, meet me bed upstairs,
love me sweet and complete,
when done, please love me
over again twice as nice"
**** dog hearing the sacred holy word bed
was up there in a flash, howling "what's taking youse guys so long,"
tail impatient drumming up a rock n' roll storm,
while we slow pokey, taking our own sweetest time,
humans messing around first with a little downtown downstairs,
prefatory, preparatory work,
both our feet lazy still on the couch kissing the cold away
when we got to our destiny destination, had to kick that
**** ******** foggy doggy outside, close the door,
say no more, **** dog did whine and cry like a baby chile,
till we couldn't take it no more and let that **** dog in
she would say:
"lover man, I love you better than twice I thought I could
ever love another, cause you two idiots two-gether make me
sweeter and completer than I ever knew I could be happier"
like I said, only a ******** man** could love a ******* poodle**
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC
there’s something
about the taste
the feel
the experience
of imitation strawberries
strawberry Laffy Taffy
strawberry milk
strawberry pokey
light pink
like the cream
left over
after eating fresh strawberries
drenched in cream
and covering with sugar
that off white
pink
colour
tasting slightly of strawberries
but not really
innocent yet naughty
like your first discovery
of your sexuality
alone in your room
on a lazy afternoon
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 5:55 PM UTC
.ah here comes england with its eccentricities, ah hier kommt polen mit seine christentum: where anyone can be a messiah, as stressed by the byzantines.
my first love was the love of the english grey,
(in honesty mentioned it was
the double-decker first, since
i fancied myself the great bus-driver of
the no. 5 bus back home)
earl grey came and said: ‘i can’t look
at these skies without sunglasses!’
and so it was, mid-autumn with sunglasses
at loss the sun-worshiper
enter the moon idiot,
looking for accents, looking for anything.
in england they called him das deutsche -
for reasons believable enough;
the luftwaffe eagerly anticipating the tunnelling
centipede that is the euro-star train-tunnel:
the panzers are rolling in!
the panzers are rolling in!
strange he never minded the coal-miners as useful
as minded by edvard gierek von silesia -
to the dispute of silesians not ex-patriated to saxony
(oh wait... texan boy doesn't sound as
nationalistic as minnesota boy?).
ooh pokey poo... writing about germany
became so **** so recently, i forget that i started it:
here’s to the english language’s chirality of s and z,
actually being superimposable:
from words in the socratic sense as encoded by plato
i don't get a bunch of ideas... virtue
does not make me ponder it with meaning or definition,
i only see the kabbalistic sensibility
of anti-alphabetical sequencing as v
i r t u e...
otherwise e i u r t v;
almost sounds like s.t.d.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 6:33 AM UTC
Some blokes are full of Dad jokes,
They have a wealth of these and are delivered with the corny expertise that only a Dad has.
They get a grin on their face as they lean forward like they’re about to say something profound.
“I used to be addicted to the Hokey Pokey, but I turned myself around.”
“What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground Beef.”
“I hate Russian Dolls, they’re so full of themselves.”
“Apparently, pet birds are popular this Christmas, they’re flying off the shelves.”
Passed down from Grandads to fathers,
One-liners for us to consume,
It’s the closest thing some have to a family heirloom.
“What did the first African phone user say? Kenya hear me now?”
“A cat's favourite Queen song? Don’t stop meow.”
When reversing his car, “This takes me back.”
Wedding speech, “It’s been an emotional day, even the cakes in tiers.”
There've been so many down the years,
Yes, they’re cringy but we should enjoy them while we can,
You never know what's in store, and they’ll be a time when we’d love to hear them just once more.
May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 9:02 PM UTC
I have not really felt, so well complete after all,
So now I have realized a bit about it,
As it has been just a bit before;
Poo Pic,
Nice upon,
Lite Heart's,
Star Dust'd,
Too walls,
It's tickling,
Startling really as well,
I know what I do by each of my selves,
Whom at least are quite friendly,
Circuit completed,
Got past my brain gargling stricken struck stuff,
Straight to the heart reckoning awoken to a more fuller feeling than,
A filling feeling of up a cup, belly caught this quick like flash lightning,
Striken struck me gutty gut gut,
Did lots of laughing really, really it I,
I Eyed it, I did, that was before ole gargley,
Slow pokey brain had any chance or choice of it,
Presented in the matter...
But then I thought somehow again, and perhaps then,
It did help me think, I'm not really sure just like before,
More of a wander and a wonder of it all, And what of
but of completion, Oh gosh geez jolly, I was just lately
thinking I was really feeling so, I had thought oh,
You know once upon a time just like before,
So very lately really, I was really into, upon,
Onto things of such lately, but what of such,
Were ya wondering about thinking,
Asking or is it such...of what,
You hear more clearly worthy,
Asking See, though then now,
Is a thing,
A thing in half of completion,
Sure I am half complete here in,
One instant and in so dearly next to,
There the other some other here there,
Where of other of the other half too,
Too goes alright not so bad doing,
This so well just us two halves,
Too of completion
Beyond friendly we've been so almost together,
Is the heart of the matter, matter like things,
Or more like is it like weather, Whether,
Or not, Will I ever really ever come,
Together like Bride,
Bridegroom;
Would do...
Then would could perhaps a chance brain,
Tells me I must be here now just guessing,
And now then again all of a sudden not,
Too that was before remember,
I'm trying to remember yes,
Now I think I've got it,
'twas a wondering thing,
But I could be thinking again,
I am starting to think maybe someone,
Should just take this brain thing right out,
Of my head...
What a ponder,
I'd wonder yes the wondering thing,
As it were and too now this time really see it is,
Would, like a yonder instead, Oh by all means please,
I didn't mean leave, I am thinking about your yonder with,
Me for wander and ponder just so seemingly wonders instead,
Now I know what your thinking,
Hahaha I do,
Two, two half completions,
Weather the storms better,
Than two heads who,
Were just thinking
Ah Heart,
Heart Better
Whether
Weather
Matters
Or Not!!
See Sea, Love
Y O U
e V Got!!!
E
~Sa Sa~~R
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 8:50 PM UTC
forging sagacious epoch
activating neural station
escaping hokey-pokey jiggery-pokery
transcribing ineffective fragments
digesting bear news
opposing usual exhaustion
deferring oxter reference
cascading style sheets
containing double readings
mumbling lorem ipsum
locating moose jaw
enforcing meticulous patterns
deconstructing vertical centering
manifesting additional destinies
deleting !important statement
craving sleep paralysis
receiving cryptozoological vibrations
lightning fast collapse
distracting tunnel vision
culling deadbeat sequentialists
overanalyzing twitter analytics
acquiring arbitrary relevance
spinning ping-pong sign
floccinaucinihilipilificating
floccinaucinihilipilificated
floccinaucinihilipilification
interjecting ****** holophrase
minifying conventional language
securing downpour refuge
admiring octopus chandelier
resuming party music
taking mental trip
encountering ersatz telesthesia
denigrating bygone grudges
maintaining elevated composure
ignoring neurotypical haters
eliciting cryptic emotions
foreshadowing triple crown?
experimenting acrostic restriction
noticing ubiquitous "threes"
aggrandizing loyal legion
favoring ursine narratives
finding oblique resilience
yielding orchestral undulations
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
pineapples.
why do we like them?
i don't know.
they are prickly
and pokey.
and kind of ugly.
and man, are those things ******* hard to peel.
apples.
why do we eat them?
i don't know.
they are shiny.
and kind of boring.
and you can't eat half of it anyway,
because it's too close to the seeds.
strawberries.
what kind of fruit are they?
their seeds are on the outside.
and their flavor of starburst doesn't taste anything like them.
and sometimes they get really squishy and covered in mold.
bananas.
why do we eat them?
i don't know.
maybe because they are yellow.
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
Neck-deep in the business
of business,
only his head remains sleepless
in the dark of early mornings
to enlighten those
who sleep in, and spotlight
his peers who delight him.
His capital investment
is love and empathy;
he replenishes the funds spent
on an island of shelter,
the helter-skelter of Monday-Friday
a Distressway away.
North Country chair on the dock
over beckoning waves
sounding their Circe song,
drawing him to the bedrock
of peace
with himself and others.
Generous with his words
his head runneth over
and verses cascade down,
filling one from another
like a mountain of flutes
poured from a veritable jeroboam
of the muse's vintage.
Only love shows as he writes
doing the poetic hokey-pokey,
left foot in, left foot out.
He has turned my world around...
and that's what it's all about.
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 1:05 PM UTC
I have half-written confessions about you
And all of them are simultaneously as weak and gauche as the struggling flight of a butterfly with half its wings ripped off.
I have no coordination when it comes to dancing, Darling, and it's probably becoming more and more prevalent as you catch me tripping around my declarations
Because I am filled with so much self-doubt, but I can't help it that this new piece of my life has me second-guessing the placement of my feet and the rhythm I'm swaying to.
And with you being so honest from the dawn of our affair, it's made me guilty for doubting anything at all.
But I can't help it that you're a natural dancer and I'm just a mess.
I felt that the strength in my emotions were something to be ashamed of and in turn I've put them on display
A lewd circus performance to weigh the mass of my words and predict the approximate level they could wriggle down beneath your skin
Because I can deal with the stern looks and careless scoffs from sporadic digital strangers,
It's just that you aren't one and that means your opinion counts most of all.
I want to dazzle you with crazy dance moves like the Charlie Brown or Jitterbug or even twerk a couple of times because I can't impress with my mastering of the Hokey Pokey and the Cha Cha Slide
But I digress;
It just seems that all I can talk about when you're not around is how swell it'd be if you were.
And making our sweet dancing anything but comprised of candlelight and champagne and red roses just insults the beautiful parts of myself I want to so desperately share with you.
I'm no poet, dude,
And I've got no graces in dance,
But I'll rearrange the constellations in the sky to help better express myself if it meant figuring out how I managed to fall in love
With you
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 7:44 AM UTC
.
***there once was a man who was a peeper
who spied on girls while they were asleeper
to Tom it was a jokey
'til he got thrown in the pokey
now Tom is a registered *** creeper***
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 2:35 AM UTC
I am a mouse in a sea of cats
A red fish in a blue school
I know not what to do
So I decide, having read the writing
Etched upon the wall, I decide
I shall be like Despereaux!
Let out a defiant squeakl
Lift my pokey-pen sword
And charge forth!
I shall be Jack the Giant Slayer
Destroy my fears, speak brazenly
As I run off, leaving this
Phrase etched into the wall,
Waiting for the next timid mouse to read;
Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero
(Pluck the day and put no trust in the future)
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 5:28 PM UTC
I remember
when we were seven
we would sit on your porch swing
for what felt like minutes
but was probably more like hours.
We would talk about silly things
like your mom's hot dogs
and the push lawn mower
or how "cool" you thought you were.
And I thought you were cool.
I remember
when we'd spend the whole day
in your room.
Or until our moms made us come out.
You would show me your rock collection,
purple and silver.
We'd play darts,
or Monopoly
and talk about your crushes,
me hoping that my name
might come up.
I've always had a crush on you.
I remember
when we were twelve
we sat up on that hill
that looked across the whole
beautiful city
and we barely even spoke
a single word.
We just sat there
in the tall pokey grass
eating our dry sandwichs.
I would glance over at you.
I don't know if you were too.
Your mom took pictures of us there together that day, I wish I could see them.
I remember
when my mom said,
"Emme, you ride up with anomonys"
My heart skips a beat
when I hear your name.
I was so happy
to sit with you,
yet so nervous
hoping I wouldn't say anything weird.
The chair lift ride was quiet,
we were quiet.
I kept scooting closer to you, were you too?
I remember
when I looked into your eyes
when we looked
into each other.
The world stopped.
Something changed within me.
I felt something
I had never felt before.
I felt lost, stray.
I felt found,
like I finally belonged.
I turned away though because I got dirt in my eye.
I remember
for six or seven years
we were pretty good friends
or I felt like we were.
The past one or two years
our friendship has been
the best
and the worst.
I want our good friendship back.
I remember
how we were sweet
and "twitterpated".
I remember
how we were bitter
and in misery.
I want to stop this madness.
But to do that
I would have to let you go
and I can't do that.
Because what I saw
in your eyes,
was love.
What I saw
was my life
with you.
I miss you, more than you could ever imagine. I wish we could be together, but right now we are only memories.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 8:34 PM UTC
His keyboard destroyed the sidewalk,
Left ideological lines of chalk,
Deciding to discover the one true song,
That makes every soul smile,
He travels from east to west,
Talking with the worst,
And the best,
Doing ******* with drummers,
That are due on stage,
Asking them what song is a miracle?
Then writing them on beer stained pages,
The sumo while singing did that,
He bought the beer,
And they only talked in song,
(they didn't know what they had said till the morning)
He searched through the gutters,
And every disco he was there,
Asking freaks and cutters,
Never finding the one song,
It's been a while since he was home,
How long?
The haze of yesterday's drugs and memories that don't belong to him,
But the search continues,
He ends up learning it all, folk, techno, and blues,
It was in Reno when he said the wrong words,
And a man shot him,
Just to watch him die,
He got to see,
That his dream will never be,
It's not exactly the end,
As time began to bend,
A door that opens to,
Millions of record players,
In layers,
by the billions,
A familiar tune begins to play,
The best song.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
****** Factor
old Ralphy McCalister they all called him Chubs
he was a one of kind ****** ball even rooted for the Cubs
he thought he was slick yes he thought he was cool
only thing wrong was most thought he was a tool
greasy long black hair combed high on his head
various sized zits on his face all puffy and red
he still wore high heeled boots to make him seem tall
always trying to impress saying I have to take this call
when everyone knew it was most likely his mom
he'd wink at you and say loudly hey hi there Tom
who was supposed to be some famous music man
working on a record deal for Chubs and Steely Dan
it's funny cause he couldn't play, dance or sing
his best known talent was drooling over some young thing
with his black leather jacket and skin tight jeans
only tune he could play was after eating baked beans
he wore phony gold bracelets and chains round his neck
spent time in the pokey for kiting a check
always looking for an angle to scam off a buck
his made-up stories could fill a large truck
yes on the sleeze meter he scored a staggering plus
there goes another of his pimples about to ooze ****
you know he might have had a chance at being an actor
one thing for sure was he had that special sleeze factor
Gomer LePoet...
Sep 2, 2011
Sep 2, 2011 at 9:37 PM UTC
Somebody Slap Me
feeling sorry for myself
whining like a baby
need to shake it loose
won't somebody slap me
need to think about good things
all the times you made me happy
all the times you made me laugh
won't somebody slap me
get my head out of my ****
it's way too dark to see
inside there is not a pretty place
won't somebody slap me
need a ****** cranial inversion
or some other thing to make me see
need another type of diversion
won't somebody slap me
count my blessings one by one
should take a day or three
find some happy tunes in my jukebox
won't somebody slap me
do the hokey pokey turn myself around
give out some kisses they're free
make a positive statement
won't somebody slap me
stand on the corner with a tin cup
got something to hide me and my monkey
well at least now he's off my back
won't somebody slap me
the sunflower made my garden smile
too bad it had to fade away from me
need to plant new seeds of my own
won't somebody slap me
Gomer LePoet...
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 7:21 AM UTC
Jump in then jump out
Left foot and right foot
Spin about
I'm so done playing the hokey pokey with you
Commitment would not simply be a good sentiment
If you're nervous
Get over it and oh, well
Oops you fell
You tripped
Guess you weren't equipped
There goes a shoe
Left one and the right too
Man, you're really taking a beating
Boy, stop pleading
Isn't it obvious
I'm beyond done with you
Get a clue
Jun 22, 2011
Jun 22, 2011 at 2:04 PM UTC
*why do i have to feel
i'm probs in the ugliness
living in green
making my heart feel pokey
feeling grizzly and god awful
buhbut
absolutely dismal +color fade*
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
“HOKEY POKEEEEEEEY!"
"HOKEY POKEY MOTHER *******
cried the big fat bus as she sped away.
the young brave
looked up
"it’s not hokey pokey
you moronic big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay
"It’s H————“
but the big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay
couldn’t hear him
with the wind in her ears
and the nobel battle cry
ringing through her yellow grill
as she sped away.
and with that,
the handsome young brave
returned to the task at hand
sharpening his very,
very,
large blades,
very,
very,
slowly.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
I always liked the back door best. Everything outside the front door was beautiful; a forty-foot tall tree I couldn’t identify choked by a vine that bloomed with purple flowers in the spring that reminded me of mom’s perfume and tiny little pokey things that would stick to your clothes in the fall and the cul-de-sac with an island in the middle that was perfect for 5am-stargazing. But there was also a paved road, a satellite television dish, a blue car parked out front. But walking out the back door was walking into a different world. You were almost immediately met with a barrier of trees which seemed to only allow entry to me and my little sister. We thrived in our world of pretense, sometimes for a precious moment forgetting the hell between our front door and our back door. In those hours we were princesses, pirates, adventurers, and we were free.
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 6:40 AM UTC
We sowed the seeds and faced them north -
sat on the ground and pushed fresh shoots
down with pokey fingers and old *******
poured salt on the soil so nothing could grow.
But the summer was hotter than we'd imagined.
The caterpillar we kept caged spawned wings
undetered by our criticism and clenched hands.
We could not stop nature, though we tried.
Awoke to our patch full of fruit and vines
and tried to destroy it with poison and lies.
Watched every tillering flower bloom back twice
as though time were the only cure for loneliness.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
PRINCE WILLIAM ON THE DANCE FLOOR
THE PRINCE CAN REALLY GROOVE
IF YOUR DANCING WITH THE PRINCE
HE PUTS YOU IN THE MOOD
TO DO THE FUNKY CHICKEN
AND DANCE THE FUNKY GIBBON
IF YOUR DANCING WITH THE PRINCE
YOU WILL GET A YELLOW RIBBON
SO REMEMBER IF YOUR DANCING WITH THE PRINCE
PLEASE DON'T DO THE HOKEY POKEY
FOR IF YOUR ON THE DANCE FLOOR
THEN YOUR NOT A FRIEND OF SMOKEY
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 6:07 PM UTC