"sook" poems
My lambs wool jumper.
My merciless mind goes traipsing through my time bank of bad memories.
Other people's bad management, misuses from my past .
Coming from nowhere. Coming from everywhere.
The memories just keep on coming .
My brothers . My mother . My father . And my sister.
Not a nice memory . Not a nice word form me.
Egregious individuals. And a devastating pack .
Three letters came one school morning.
I was six and my brothers a little older
The postman posted three brown envelopes
All a little weighty .
With a little bit of money .
We all three got a sixpence.
We all three got a letter.
So unexpected. A complete surprise!
The excitement of a letter.
The two older boys got theirs from God .
They were good boys .
Mine came from the devil .
I was a bad boy .
I was a humphy backit wee nyaff .
In writing . From the devil .
But thought I was a lovely boy .
Big brown eyes brown hair and dimples .
I never felt bad .
I never sought danger or conflict.
But I was .
In the middle of a battlefield.
Theirs .
You are a bad boy . I am a good boy .
You are being a sook . I am being a good boy .
You always want attention. I am an ill boy.
You always show us up . I am a funny boy .
You are stupid and lazy . You are trying to break this boy .
There I was as their swords flew and I battled their rages.
In my armour.
Made from my grandmothers soft wool jumper .
So soft and gentle and protective .
She let me choose the soft lambs wool.
It wasn't jaggy .
It didn't irritate.
It wasn’t abrasive.
And she made up the cost .
With every stitch .
She stitched with love .
With love for me .
Her boy!
The battle rages on inside .
The shell shocked boy now a man .
Still wrapped in the warmth of his gran.
And her protective lambs wool jumper.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
There once was a bone weary teen
whose muscles were starting to scream
she was having a sook
‘bout the miles undertook
but grinned with memories of icecream.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 5:21 AM UTC
Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!
Time to get the breakfast on!
Little Johnny likes to cook,
No, he is no wussy sook,
He is cooking in his apron,
Yes, thirty pieces of bacon!
Johnny decides this is bliss,
As he gives his empty plate a kiss,
But Johnny now has cholesterol, you see,
That was yum, time for tea,
Now he's eating thirty chocolates, prithee,
All gone, Johnny has cholesterol and diabetes!!!!!!
Yes, Little Johnny is heading for obesity!!!!!!
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 7:07 PM UTC
I feel like a staple! Funny, eh!
I hold things together round this place,
In a mild-mannered old lady way,
Like the staples in a book,
I guess there's no need to sook,
I am a helping hand today,
Nothing lasts forever, eh?
Avoid confrontations with the ex,
Who carries on like old T-Rex,
The old staple of their lives,
I would do stuff anyway, being kind,
Doormats do get exploited, eh,
I feel it's a staple kind of day!
Smile!!
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 11:17 PM UTC
Retirement and the remote control,
This sounds like a whinge in an ode,
Retired men and remote controls,
Includes, "Who gave old men phones?"
Is this what 'golden years' meant?
Defensible violence to retired men?
You'll be getting good manners for tea,
And not much more from me!
Don't you go T-Rex on me!
I want a turn on that remote control, please,
You've turned into a sook and a toad,
My 'golden years' whinge in an ode.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
As I lay here and wonder what the hell am I doing
Will I end up under ground and not up in Heaven?
I have all the answers that I've sook the Bible to find
He talks with a mighty roar and I dim it with mine roaring back asking God I need more. Why do I fight the feelings of right when I'm only doing what I know is wrong. Self destruction is my friend and I've seen it before. oh my God I've been here way too long
Looking ahead all I see are my dreams and I'm smiling on the outside it's true
On the inside I'm suppressing the true feelings of love that I don't want anymore for you
Sweet release of it all is the answer from the preacher but how does one do that, I’m not sure
There's no reconciliation of what once was and it's tearing me up heart and soul
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 1:12 AM UTC
hauled up with a cavernous protector
far away from the dawn light
loss of distinction, morn and night
departed from those you love
casting a thought
to before you were a passenger
laid bare in this damp shelter
waiting for the walls to cave in
the days you took pleasure
in the meaningless endeavour
of the artificial existence
are replaced by days
so broken by monotony
and the plight of the many
so you sook a life most solitary
where your thoughts weigh heavy
each day you think of them
their optimism and naivety
as you draft another letter
destined for nowhere
as years take their toll
and the days feel like weeks
and your joints ache with growing ferver
you draft another letter
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 11:35 AM UTC
Reading before sleep is good,
To wind down is what we should,
But! This book is neverending,
Page after page I am bending,
Why is this book unending?
First chapter was so great,
I thought the book first rate,
But, by now, the story is ruined,
All the characters seem doomed,
Right, book, back to the library with you,
I'm off to the library lucky dip,
Try new authors, that's my tip,
No, indeed, I shan't sook,
I'll return this unending book!
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 3:41 PM UTC
Here, this a noble book!
400 pages of total sook,
Let's turn the page and have a look,
Why the team did lose,
Didn't the supporters boo,
It's published by OUP,
Snivelling galore, read and see,
"We was robbed!", we all got that,
"Did not pull the flag out of the hat!"
"We was too slow and small!"
We got that, is that all?
"No, the umpires are maggots and cheats!"
Got that! "Gee, the team played weak!"
Got that, any excuse for you,
"Our team are bunch of tools!"
Got that, "They had no skills!"
Got that, "They're a pack of dills!"
Any excuse, now blame the coach again,
"Another year of footy down the drain!"
You're supposed to be good losers, eh,
Any excuse for you, that's the way!
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
I want the rope to rip
Once I've actually tried to leap off the wooden chair, that is
And I hate myself for being so willing
To oblige to Jones' orders
It wont hurt, right?
Maybe only for the first few seconds
I can take several more seconds of pain
I bet it hurts less than Jones' punches
Mum..
Maybe even Sarah would miss me
She replied to my confession on her desk with a heart
And said she liked the daisies
But it's not like she'll see me on Monday
Because either way, I'd be dead
Jones said it himself yesterday
Just like the movies, he wanted "off with my head"
For some reason I'm still tempted
To free my neck from this rope
Even though I was always born
An extra to this world
Then how I wish
The legs of this chair would break
And once I was safe from the rope
I hope the floor-boards separate
Once I'm sunk in though
I don't want the floor to close-up
I just want a hiding spot
Where I could hide for months
Away from baby Johnny
That's ****** up my share of motherly love
From the minute his eyelids parted
In the background, I have been shoved
Futher away from the other Charlie in the mirror
Who seems to have a habit
Of going hands on hips when I see him
And telling me to run-off
Away from Jones
Far, far away please
I'll stay here for ever if I have to
Just make sure he doesn't find me
I shouldn't have done it
No, not **** myself
Why, oh, why did I
Answer back to the devil himself?
I still can't wrap my head around
Why I decided to speak up
It's not like Jones will shiver and whimper
Just the way I do when he destructs
Deep breaths Charlie
Four-eyed Max leaped off his chair last week
If that old nerd could do it
Then
Stop being a sook and do it already
~Eman A.Q
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
You live in colours that don't exist,
Unlike my twilight soul.
Yet we are so familiar
With the inhumane species
That leaves us in wreckages.
Our midnight cries will be sook
By the naïvety of tomorrow's embrace,
And we will be left stranded on the shores
Of our own despair.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
I rewrote a song called, "Denim and Lace,'
Hope this brings a laugh to your face,
"Pyjamas and Fleece,
I look fat in everything,
And you are a fat old king,
Making me do everything,
Wearing P.J.'s and fleece!"
No hot speed dates to me,
I remove my bra at half past three,
No need to be a sook,
I'll curl up here and write a book,
"Wearing P.J.'s and fleece!'
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 6:48 PM UTC
last night i had a little sook
cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried
and suddenly all i could see were knives and sharp scissors
i scratched my wrists and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried
and put myself to bed
now he's threatening to leave me
because i had a little sook
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 12:26 AM UTC
I am a rotisserie chook,
The rotation has started to cook,
This is my Karma, I sook,
To be a rotisserie chook,
Then it's off to the consumption,
With no thought of liberation,
But lo, behold Foghorn Leghorn!
Fat guts and feathers he adorn,
He liberates the rotisserie,
Free ranging for thee and me!
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 10:25 PM UTC
Yeah im done with this world and all thats around, its a game and frankly i aint proud, and i aint addicted, im convicted, hopefully self-evicted, im a **** head, shove a knife in my neck, whats the bet i'd survive, just to be deprived of what you call life, im done, where's the gun, that sounds fun, BANG wheres the pain, im sure id fail again, this game is driving me insane, i have a car, maybe in it i can become a star, i wont go far, a trip to the local bar, then a bridge, a tree, a semi is all i wanna see.
i come across a though late last night, if im not here to bring you all hate, then who gonna complain, no more sook, so whos to bring you pain? if im not around you cant struggle in this game, im the reason your all in pain, it follows me around, like a pet, but in debht, its gets me aswell, regardless how much i retreat to my shell. it creeps in, it seeps deep, i ******* hate who ive become, im a *** a suicidal mess, this i confess, help? **** that less its a knife through the chest.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 12:00 PM UTC
I reminisce on love not funny,
So much for giving people honey!
I just never met Mr. Right, I guess,
I met Mr. ********** no less,
No need to sook it, I confess,
Some men have a funny idea of love,
They think they're gifts from God above,
Hello there, rotten mongrels, honey!
I reminisce on love not funny!
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 11:29 PM UTC