"schtick" poems
How do I love thee? In a way that's bad,
by which I mean so bad it's almost good.
I need you, and you know it drives me mad.
I want you more than any other could.
And we could write romances, you and me.
I want to hear your Hitchcock movie schtick.
I want your everything. I hope it's free.
I want you in my window, and you're sick.
And yet you know my raving is a sign
I'd rather we were paramours than friends.
You're outlawed from the moment that you're mine
Until the day our bad romancing ends;
I'll love you in a leather-studded bra.
Rah gaga gaga roma ooh la la.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 3:02 AM UTC
Wife-beater, drum player
blower of holy pan-pipes
Plumed, bejeweled in ****** plastic
Inca priest, mestizo beast
multi-kulti prophet
(who chooses to live in the USA)
where liberals kow-tow
while you show them how
to adulate indigenous
crypto misogynous
eager to pay eager to please
diversity’s devotees buy your CDs
a perfect idiot from the mythic Sierra
naming your brood after Andean peaks
pre-Columbian pachamama freaks
eat it up: your Inca schtick
(but ask the battered gringa-chick
about your unsustainable ways:
who hits who smiles who beats who pays ?)
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 11:58 AM UTC
this perpetual pattern. a thousand spreadsheets of the thing, draped unceremoniously about the furnishings of my mind. digits and symbols tapped into a machine to keep every schtick continually whirring. rare concessions of dumbfounded dazzle, no time or place for wonder. untidy notes, impure thoughts, callings from the mud--the whole deal, and yet i still hold my fancies. with careful introductions i can shut the monster down. it has dreams of its own, collected in dust, and when the time comes to sit out defeat they unfold in my lap like grotesque paper flowers
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
"Faith can move Mountains."
I've read in some book.
Now mind over Melon
can be done with a look.
Hooked up by electrodes,
a test subject's brain
exploded a melon
and fried some plantains.
The Watermelon trick
sure excited the crowd.
The comedian, Gallagher,
truly was wowed
He's been in the hospital,
truly heartsick.
Physically unable
to keep doing his Schtick .
Soon, with his brain,
He'll resume his pursuit,
popping jokes while exploding
some innocent fruit.
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 7:08 AM UTC
Well you twinged my nerves
as you may be swell
but your words sure taste
like the floors of hell
So how are you ?
You make me sick
with your chameleon schtick
You come on hard
and you leave too quick
So fine you say ?
You're a dull moon hanging
over a fetid swamp
You will o'wisp
as you begin to taunt
So good to here .
I is the first word
from your mouth
Aye I say ever
tis thee out
So kind of you .
Green grounds
out the sills
as you have to say
What's mine is will
No other way .
Here's the bag
of bones you save
the flesh ripped off
the barrel's been staved
So bye bye you .
There's a moment
I take to pause
to pass some more
of Murphy's laws
So I'll not be seeing you .
I'll not , I'll not , I'll not
be seeing you
Goodbye , Goodbye
to all and you
to all and you
ALL OF YOU !
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
Yes.
And we all know how to
Make poetry pay.
We all know what it is
That makes Sammy run,
Run Sammy Run.
But I take it to its
Absurd conclusion:
Ads right in the middle of
The ******* poem!
“That was,”
If I do say so myself,
“A stroke of pecuniary brilliance."
Pecuniary adjective pe·cu·ni·ary \pi-ˈkyü-nē-ˌer-ē\
: Relating to or in the form of money
Full Definition of PECUNIARY
1: consisting of or measured in money 2: of or relating to money
— pe·cu·ni·ar·i·ly \-ˌkyü-nē-ˈer-ə-lē\ adverb http://www.thesaurus.com
Would not this be an excellent conceit?
Villainy of a close & potent kind?
Put the cart before the horse
(So to speak):
POETS AS SWEAT EQUITY.
That’s right!
Make us pay for our sins,
Financing our sins.
(So to speak).
What a concept!
Why not run the Merriam-Webster logo here . . .
Would this not be the appropriate time?
(logo)
Advertising right smack
Dab in the middle of
The ******* poem!
My third world soul
Having a difficult time
Navigating this Toddlin' Town
Allow me to show you around, town.
And lest we forget:
Our first poets were religious crazies,
With diction gilding Version, King James.
"My Schtick,"
As Mel Brooks might say.
Mel's History of the World
(Part 2, i.e.),
Retells the Essence of Story Telling,
The Misnah Pentateuch,
Told again with the usual **** genius.
Scene: Moses stumbles on Sinai,
One of three burdensome
Stone tablets is dropped,
Shatters on a rock.
What could possibly have been proscribed
In those 5 lost commandments?
What freaky human pleasure,
Could possibly have been lost to humanity?
It is pointless to speculate.
'Tis better to think about this,
Dear Poetry Publisher Query *****
Ads right in the middle of the ******* poem.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
all and all
we prat fall on small carpets -
half-lit by sunshine
and half - benighted
we bruise easily,
and as often
as a Jack O"lantern's
Smile
we pitch dark for a new Sit-Com
but never let them
see us let them fret
and never let them
see us
yet.
Yet.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 1:02 AM UTC
Romance Unclassified
lover
wanted
times are bad
need some romance
my love life has gone to hell
need me some sort of magic caper
need to find someone who I can tell
put me an add in the Sunday paper
let me see what sort of response I get
do you think maybe I should add my pic
so far only a call from some guy named Chet
I told him sleeping with guys ain't my schtick
he said he could teach me a trick or maybe two
teach me to play sweet guitar make the ladies sigh
write sweet words is another thing he said I should do
soft sweet voice and sappy sad guitar sounds make them cry
maybe a fine new hobby would be good for me
heck I could learn to weave a basket
I need something don't you see
before I wake up in a casket
need some romance
times are bad
wanted
lover
Gomer LePoet ....
Aug 21, 2011
Aug 21, 2011 at 7:22 PM UTC
"I'm not mad. Feel free to email me with responsible inquiries. No more of the gf / exgf schtick."
What could be more humiliating?
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
I'd break if I could.
Scream, cry, and kick.
Even if the branch is burning
From both sides
I can't stop; I won't.
I'll be a coward no more.
Ill stand up, like I should.
Say no more of this schtick,
My life is turning,
And I'll weather the tides,
But even if some things don't,
I'm ready to mend what you tore.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
I'm never sure when to laugh.
To some it comes easy as breathing
But I need a graph,
A custard pie chart to show just where
To slap the schtick.
Like taking the ****
Take the mike, centre stage,
Now give it back, make it stick.
Isn’t it free to share now it's been taken?
When was it ever owned? Ever mine?
Don't worry, it's fine.
It was your line anyway,
Yours to cross.
Find your mark and overstep it.
Near knuckles bleed.
Punch line, punch bag.
Life's funny like that.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
What gives ten
Ask for nothing then
A gentleman entering a gambling den
Orders for the best drinks
Lights his cigarettes with a matchstick
Part of his down-to-earth routine
Not a schtick
He may even come close
To being as slick
As the English ****
Sherlock Holmes and,
Dr. Watson and his stick
Two men
Down in
The roulettes of the den
Landed every time on the red one
And every time his luck had just begun
Look out you two
You’re gonna get hit
If this Henry Gondorff cheats
Then you’re dead beat
You won’t get to even feel a *****
You’ll feel you’ve been stung by the bee
After he gets back at all the mafia men
Trying to show off by showing a ridiculous ten
He writes down a cheque
To buy out the casino
With just a sign of a Mont Blanc fountain pen
After he’s done
He goes down to the **********
Leading a pack of ten
A boisterous pack of men
They’ll probably get laid by the number one
In the house by the name of Whetton by the second
After he’s done running after medicine
She’s already got his fix
She don’t need no kick
He’s given her a night of his sweet **********
Her heart isn’t aching
Ohh but **** it
Not again
She’s falling in love again
Being class number one chick
With a style of her own
She’s understanding a love she’s never known
You thought she was some dumb sex-addict
Now the guy knows that she’s smart
Being the upstart
He’s warm with affection again
With one night of love-makin’
With the maid of Whetton
Need no one beat her
Because he needs her
The two make love again
Forgetting the punishment
Of getting married to their sweetheart
Who is innocent
The man was after all depressed
He was sexually repressed
After the death of his marital success
She didn’t want him anywhere near his girlfriend
Of course she’d heard of him
They were close to each other then
Before he started thwarting his morals
As his life spirals
Downward
They know he’s up to no good
With the ***** in the neighbourbood
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
Toss me out a subject or prompt, I'll spew words from my mind
Mayhap a full couplet, perhaps a single line
I'm guilty to the maximum, the gears whir and click
Roaming around my cranium, a simple type of schtick
Weaving in and out, dodging darts and knives
No matter where and how, I'm going to survive
A major failing character flaw, driving most over the brink
Thoughts and dreams in poetry, with no other way to think
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 2:13 PM UTC
I was stuck in free verse
On the circuit
With slammers renowned
Ripping rhymes sublime
Heard and seen
By the deaf and blind,
Respectively...
But the spin soon spun
From slick to schtick
Layered so thick with more
Of the same ole tricks
That even Mike and Spike
Couldn't just do it
Like before...
So I upgraded my lyrical Nike
Of the open court
To a pair of couplets
And formally entered the draft
With the pros...
"With the #1 pick...."
My dedication to the craft
And hours logged after dark,
Flipping through Plath, Wilde
And Walker
Yielded the manuscript of my dreams,
And a YES
From the publisher
I had arrived...
Or so it seemed...
The path well-travelled
Of the published pros,
Once paved in exclusivity,
Now glittered with chaos and opportunity
And the carcasses of couplets in print...
The sprint to models new
Laced in virtual strings
On tablets, kindles and bing
Had begun....
~ P
#lyricalevolution
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC