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IcySky Jun 2015
Don't be angry; Get snappy
Do what makes you happy
For you know that things
Are hard to change;
And life is full of krappy
So- smile when you feel slappy
or sing when you feel trappy
Because you know deep down inside
You can never keep people happy!!!!
I know this is corny, that's why I named it that way....  Just a poem to make you laugh at it's stupidity, and for fun.
I remember a sunrise,
when language
finally spun out and left
us in easy stillness.

We watched the green
canal awake with a
flicker and I inclined;
willing him to touch me
just once...
But so relieved
when he only smiled and
said,
"Goodnight starshine."
~
Jamie, with one hand on her
hip and a flip-flop in the
other, struck the best
mighty-black-woman pose
a little-white-girl could
muster and cried,
"Harmoni, I'm gonna get
the shoe on you!"

Laughing
until tears reflected on
our faces and our ribs
implored mercy.
Laughing,
because all the world
was laughter.
~
I remember a Gemini saying,
"I love you."
Words a mere breath, a flutter
winging across distance
and circumstance, to rest
on my ear.

I remember having faith
and, for the first time in
my life,
faith was okay.
~
Tim’s profile ate at
my eye, vampire pale under
a bloated blue moon.

There was silence as there
was always silence,
expanding and breathing, throbbing
against the walls of my thoughts.

Dawn begged entry as his arms
wrapped me safe, and he said,
“I have to get out of this town.”

The hush mocked me. My tongue
became a corpse in my mouth.

“And I don’t want to go alone,”
he concluded but his thoughts were
far away from me and his arms and
the bloated moon, a sinking vista.

The silence belonged to me and so
did this lie,
maybe a finer gift
for the moment
than the truth.
~
I remember kissing a Kentucky
boy at a retro party. Long hair,
pulled into a reckless ponytail
and dance moves to rival
John Travolta's.

He was sporting a glittering
Saturday Night Fever costume,
beaming at me, and whispering,
"But I'm gay."
I remember a sly smile saying,
"It's time to put that theory to the test."
~
Shawn with his secret grin and
his animated hands,
hiking in the Glades.
He said,
"You're going to need a stick."
Knowing everything, my natural
response was an arrogant,
"What for?"
He shrugged, raised one of his
fine brows.

Later, when I was up to my chest
in mud, swimming alongside
a crayfish,
missing one of my shoes,
he smiled brightly down at me,
his chocolate curls a halo in the
backlighting sun,
"That's what you needed the stick for."
He demonstrated how he used it to
gauge the depth of the muck.
But he didn’t hesitate to offer me
his clean hand.
~
I remember a Gemini’s whisper,
"I love you."
Words a vague breath,
spinning and soaring across
distance and circumstance,
to rest on my heart.

I remember believing.
~
I remember Ashton and me
driving to The Waffle House
after midnight.
There was a smashed motorcycle
on the highway ahead, emergency
lights washing across the windshield.

Ash grinned and said,
"I'm glad I brought this."
And he lit a joint.
Half an hour later,
still in the exact same spot,
The Beatles Twist and Shout came
on the radio and
I screeched my best version on Lennon’s
wild invitation to shake it baby now
and Ash bellowed ah
Ahhh
AHHH
and laughter became warm wine
dribbling down our chins
as the final chords and beats
and voices
pounded together in a final
triumphant roar,
dissolving us into a happy heap
suspended in a moment where
such songs never end and
someone is always shouting,
“Play it again, John!”

The smile in Ashton’s eyes
said exactly what I was thinking
as horns honked and sirens cried
in some other universe…  
We didn't care if they never
cleared that road.
~
My voice made of iron,
I said to Phillip,
"There is no God."
I was sitting at the kitchen table
in our one-room apartment,
our first apartment,
naked and clinging to
a cup of coffee,
clinging to the only things
I could cling to with bitter
grief staining my lips.

He said,
"No?
Well, you're not alone, anyway."
I didn't know why it should matter
or if it did,
but I knew it was true and felt the
fact ride along to the tips of my toes.

I am not alone.
I wondered if that would always be true.
~
I remember a Gemini said,
"I love you."
Words a naked breath,
Sent to sail and glide across
distance and circumstance,
to quiet the shrill music of
my memories.
~
Chris’ hands shook as
he smoked and avoided my
gaze. We sat in inconsiderate  
plastic seats in a visiting room
where drooling, mumbling
patients weren’t allowed lighters
or belts or shoe laces.

This was before…
Before Cindy Cyanide
received her formal invitation;
When Slappy Sleepinol seemed like
a decent date to dance him into
a bruised and dreaming garden.

I examined those hollow eyes
in slantwise glimpses;
seeking answers in the creases
of his forehead, in the stroke of
his long smoky exhale,
inquiring, finally, “Why? But why…”

Through the haze, he
caught my eye, held it firm, and said,
“There is no ‘why’. I’m sorry.”
~
Hallucinating madly with Jessi
at my side, walking
down deserted streets in the
middle of the night.

She took off her skirt and put
it on her head. Became a Native
princess, headdress rising
from her brow,
spreading long down her naked back.
We continued walking, she
wearing nothing but a smile
and her *******.

The stars painted a melting  
map over our heads
and the road home was endless.
We were children and in that
immaculate moment, I knew
and I was glad.
~
And then there was
a Gemini.

And then there were dreams.
This poem can be found in Venus Laughs, a collection of poetry from Harmoni McGlothlin, available at GraceNotesBooks.com.
John Cena May 2015
sad
sad bad
so no sad
sad happy
happy flappy
flappy clappy
dappy slappy
spousal abuse
Phil Mar 2011
Do you have curly hair?
Is the top of your head not bare?
When in the shower, and using shampoo, do you have to take care?
Even when shampooing a mare?
Well then, I have a story to share.

My hair is curly, and it is a Jew Fro.
Its totally badass bro,
And bigger then your big toe.
After this poem, to a party I go.

The Fro is made of little curls,
It doesn’t help get pretty girls,
Hopefully it won’t make them hurl.

Never sticky guarantee
It enlightens me,
And helps with tai chi
Unfortunately I have no key,
What’s worse is Kasper is a DDD.

Every now and then, it gets slicked back by Shoes,
In any way in which we choose.
When the cows see it they all give moos,
I think those kids deserve some *****.
JWU!
Please don’t sue,
Because, I really don’t have a clue.
BOO! Let us surprise you with a dijeridoo.

If left unwashed it gets *****,
Not as bad as a kid named Klappy.
Sometimes he transforms into Slappy,
But if you ask me, the fro makes us all a little happy.
Hopefully, this poem isn’t ******.
Laugh, this is supposed to be funny
Olivia M Jackson Aug 2010
Messy Bessy
Pouty fussy
Screaming crying always *****

Ugly Bessy
Huffy Puffy
Yelling punching kicking kitty

Silly Bessy
Loudy mouthy
Mommy madly gives a slappy
© July 3rd, 2010 Olivia M. Jackson
tom havard Aug 2014
****** dangle ****
flappy fappy slappy
doodle
Orion Schwalm Dec 2015
As she swayed to the tide of music nobody heard
The ghostly rhythms of my own forgotten soul caught FIRE
Tap dancing tenaciously on the tightrope of the void
Calling forth cascading cataracts, callousing over the mind, a cacophony of Mallards, flying south for the winter,
NEVER AGAIN TO SEE THEIR MOTHERS.
She tied my brain into a rope and swung across the chasm
Laughing like a Mameluke who had just discovered his feet.
The camel was left behind at the gate
The Babble went on till the break of dawn
Till it stopped.
And collapsed.
And felt weak as a Sunday Noon Tide Carolers
Bunchcake, Fun and Dry, Severing again and again the Hair twine
Randal Slappy Blimp map candy man Cadillac attack
A BOTTLE OF WINE AND TWO LEFT FEET LATER
A scumaladdoodalla frigate-splayed poodle-cups
When finally she agreed to let me into her preschool
I had already given up the hope of ever having a career in the arts.
Bean friends. Are the only friends. That accompany you. To heaven.
Brent Kincaid Feb 2018
Hinky Jinky, Stinky Pinky
The One Percent will play.
Squirrely Shirley Hurly Burly
In the full light of day.
Hop them, bop them;
You can’t stop them.
They’re never going away.
Crying, trying, always lying,
They count on your ignorance.
Hinky Jinky, Stinky Pinky
Wham bam, thank you man.
Daffy, laffy, slappy happy.
What’s the hap? What’s the plan?

Cooked books, buncha crooks.
Loosie, goosey, where’s the noosey?
Flakey, fakey, jump in the lakey.
Take and take, oil of snake,
How much of this can good people take?
Scream and shout, let it all out
Stick it, we’ll show up and picket
You’ll try to trick it, we’ll buy you a ticket
On a rail, feathered, or off to jail.
Subliminal criminals, sentences too minimal
We’ll feel best if you and the rest must
Sell your houses and cars from behind bars.
Britty Bruce Apr 2015
She walks through proud.
Her smile screams it loud.
She knows shes worth it.
Her past was the painful ****.
Nobody can knock her down.
But the unwanted frowns.
Her heart is the biggest!
Believe it or not her smile is the thickest.
She is so beautiful and happy.
Her actions are alittle slappy!
Her soul was just above.
She was called love.
Just a happy poem for though's tht think they cant find love its all around you.
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
Loosey goosey, Gary Busey
Makes more sense than you!
What do you see, big kaboosie?
What would Vladdy Putin do?

Fussy wussy, presidential woosy
Tell a whole buncha more lies.
Flappy *****, big **** slappy
The best your money buys.

Choppy woppy, never stoppy
Even when caught on tape.
Shouty, pouty, tough it outy
Completely out of shape.

Fleecer, squeezer, ugely obese
Shadow of your youth
Ripoff, tipoff, always lipoff.
Incapable of truth.

Heapy cheapy, never sleepy
Won’t pay your own bills.
Brainless pain, runaway train,
All your ideas can ****.

Neego, peego, bloated ego
The little kids you scare,
Shard, pard, big tub of lard,
As attractive as your hair.
roumen Jun 2019
One day you Will walk away...
I don't want to let you ..
One day my
Heart will be broken
Onto thousand
shiny pieces..
The punch ..
Was sharp and heavy..
I can collect this pieces..
Next day.
It will not be easy..
But Jack will help...

Next morning.
Will be better..
You think..
But ..NO..
It isn't..
Even it is darker..
Raining..
Depressing
Gray..
But Jack can help..

I know that ,
If i hold you tight
I can harm you...
If not ,
You will be free
And not with me..
There Is no escape ..
From that ..
But Jack Will help..

I know...
You are so fragile ..
I am ..that Beast
Who love you..
I know ..i know
my face is ugly ...
My slappy hands..
My heart ..
But Jack can help..

The moral of
That story
Is very simple..
Beauty and
the Beast..
Can't live together ..
Never ..Ever..

...But Jack will help. ..

Who's Jack ?
Spazz out on beats puffing sweets shorties looking neat
To my meat I give em a pleasant greet upon the seat
I chill with thirty thousand pharoahs Egyptian spirals
Retrace back to my legacy face they shot of my nose
From Napoleon soldiers guns that rose I'm standing chose
By my foes just anotha leg of the devils woes only the poors
Feel thees ghetto blues laid down with no clues glues
Tha average nay sayer **** to players ultimate layers
Of scripture torment hell bent most of my life I spent
Around fakes can't get another take on life's stake wait
I'm holding my breath to long tryna prolong positive
Connotations temptations weighed in on my patience
Still I rise above occasion occupy wisdom of ancient


No fairytales knock a ghost out of shell forreal
Cuz death never seems so happy call me slappy
Once you see the white lights flashing bright
Off on sight wait I'm just learning wrong over right
Insight of the hidden wisdom most lurked by the dumb
I stay at my own hums of the drums left the crumbs
For the nitty gritty still rep for my city critics litty
Tryna blow up my spots I ain't paperboy

Fools eating too much soy ranting paper boy?

It's more joy to life then begging a knife of strife
Leads to nothing trife fans to foes leeching
Catch the tip I'm preaching guns reaching
Tryna short your success but I stay above the rest
Keep the crest ak sun flashing elegance
Magnificent to the eyes of the triple beams teams
Working on self meditate health combat stealth
Sitting on riches star child rocking like Mose on the nile
Baby tantrums erupt the brain cuz of unexpected conundrums


Dramas pick pocket ya eyes socket last of the real prophets
Can't stop it they wish they could top it top tier lyricist
Swordfish bring on the genius word to the new created genesis
Living in a world full of exodus every flesh is a dead lust
Failed by luxury too many mistakes for humanity sanity
Seems to be a new abnormality I feel like Ms Waters
Holding the umbrellas to block the reigning berrettas
Check it folks still chasing funky cheddar however
How can u endeavor over the calm stormy weather's
Can't get over the sounds of the groovy beat tellers
Cashing my thoughts to very will of a carnivorous drop
Eat ferocious heats atrocious so just embrace the closes
Thing to real flash the heat of steel beaming reels sequels
Of a flash back of ya life's relapse this aint Em fool
I'm dropping a jewel so many try to play it cool cruel
With the axes of mics I split I sit in silver damien Abraxas
Facts is I'm climbing the underground biz this ain't for kids
Or for the weaks's i flaunt for flawed speeches foes speechless
Once they see how serious I get every flows spit with grit
The Fire Burns Jan 2018
Slamming doors and angry screams,
revving engines and broken dreams,
lipstick print on my cheek,
my stuff thrown out, I'm up a creek.

Late for a date with my girl,
I'd never cheat, she is my world,
been fishing all morning down at the lake,
headed home stopped with a broken rake.

Ol' Mrs. Watson backed over, headed to town,
she asked me for help with a little frown,
two flat tires on her truck,
had them off and fixed she was in luck.

Kiss on my cheek as a thank you,
little did I know that I was *******,
walked in the house feeling happy,
my girl saw the lipstick and her hands got slappy.

Slamming doors and angry screams,
revving engines and broken dreams,
lipstick print on my cheek,
my stuff thrown out, I'm up a creek.

So I leave, head back to the lake,
still, have some beer resigned to my fate,
While I pout, Mrs. Watson calls my house phone,
my girl was crying, sitting all alone.

Hello, she says, and Mrs. Watson says hi,
just wants to thank me again, says I'm a hell of a guy,
oh no she thinks what have I done,
have I ******* up and lost the one.

Here she comes crying down to the lake,
picnic and a bikini and begging mistake,
suns going down, skinny dipping apologies,
I tell her its okay with a final squeeze.

Slamming doors and happy screams,
revving engines and growing dreams,
lipstick prints on both my cheeks
back to the house tangled up in the sheets.

— The End —