"speedo" poems
This poem will rock, with a Demon and ****
Sinful hellfire, and brimstone, that's it..
a pitchfork up the *** of rock
so what they'll think I am a ****
A slammin' crashing rage of metal
speedo in the red
stamp that pedal
turn up the fire
turn on the heat
hmm..... my tummy is empty
Mum, what's there to eat........?
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 2:59 PM UTC
Long broken lines
Not even straight
Honk the sound
Yech the smell
The pace is maximus haste
Mr. Earl sing Speedo
Yes indeedo
Death to the left
Yes death to the left
Stay out of the fast lane
Splat
Skid marks abound
Churned rubber flares
Bend and fade to nowhere
Get to work
Do the deal
Shop your brains out
Think not at the wheel
Byways of life
Filled with strife
Where does it lead?
What does it mean?
Lord!
Mercy
Mercy
Merci
Music Selection:
The Cadillacs, Speedo
jbm
GWB
NJ/NYC
10/84
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 9:12 AM UTC
in the manufactured waves of chlorine
my feet stand on concrete shores
and tiles grappled with maritime life
of dead leaves that have crept its way
in an ecosystem of unnatural residents
with sunken treasures buried beneath
the heavy blankets of swimmers' feet
a child's lost pair of goggles gleams
in the crevices of the ceramic seabed
sunbeams bounce off the plastic
an underwater mirage for the pool's
regular inhabitants armed in spandex
these are the common sights
of The Public Pool
and it's in the rare quiet moments
of carefully constructed serenity
when you are the sole ruler of
your concrete public pool kingdom
when your camp has been pillaged
by a thousand 5 year olds garbed
in their best hot pink speedo suits
and equipped with the best water guns
maintaining their positions like
a modern Praetorian legion swathed
in modern day mass-produced tunics
huddled in formation with limbs afloat
assembled and hungry to conduct
a carefully constructed battle of dominance
when the water surrounding you
suddenly feels too warm
it's too warm for it to be the chlorine
and you look up to see their leader –
their leader in the speedo silicone swim cap
is flushed as red as her speedo suit: a sight
against the synthetic cerulean landscape
that you realize:
you own nothing in this world
even the public pool gets invaded
even the public pool gets ****** in
so you might as well enjoy shallow ends
and every little joy life has to offer
the universe will **** itself eventually
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
You're tied up in time ticking choices away
white light fills the night till its brighter than day
cacophonous voices can say what they say
from the dusk till the meaningless dawn
Then secured by a seatbelt to leather and foam
the speedo's at zero six yards from your home
a million neighbours, completely alone
you're a shell, you're a shade, you're a pawn
But glance through the windscreen and look at the sky
a seagull, suspended, is catching your eye
you sense a connection but cannot say why
as it tilts on the wind and is gone
Then the trees you drive under are sharpened and clear
they're humming and pulsing beneath the veneer
you're dazed and confused as you shift up a gear
dumbly wondering what's going on
You turn on the satnav for guidance and sound
but its whisper can't silence this thing you have found
from the shimmering clouds to the roots of the ground
Is a force that is ancient and new
You try to pretend like a terrified child
that the world can be binary indexed and filed
and the sparkling eye of the jackdawish wild
isn't focused intently on you
But there is no denying this fluttering clutch
that is moss-furred and feathered, a hurricane touch
that you knew long ago and you've missed it so much
with a longing that's howling and black
But she's patiently stationed there just out of sight
as you've built your resistance from pixel and byte
Rebellious teenager, pitiful plight
she is waiting to welcome you back
Yes Nature is waiting to welcome you back
She's beneath every slab and behind every crack
at the nethermost end of the bitterest track
she is waiting to welcome you back
Forever forgiving, unloosed unconfined
she is mad she is chaos she's love and she's blind
volcanic voluptuous core of mankind
she is waiting to welcome you back.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
i am currently pitching a tent
do you know my intent?
i currently have a *****
i wonder if shes a groaner
lets play battleships can i sink you with my pink torpedo
i need to get out my pink speedo
so lets ****
or would you like to ****
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 6:49 AM UTC
*I wanted to learn how to swim back then.
I was a little chubby and my skin was white
as milk. I wore my favorite red Speedo swim
suit. My couch told me to swim to him in the
pool when no one was looking he touched my
upper thigh. “If you scream or cry I’ll hurt you”
he said. In a blink of an eye he pinched and
twisted the skin on my thigh. Out of the water
I went showing my mom bruised and blue skin.
She grabbed me by the hand and into the manager’s
office we went. I showed him the blue mark on
my skin telling him your coach touched me with
his hand he told me not to tell. With anger and
shame my coach came in before he spoke or tried to
turn what he’d done to me into a joke he was told
that he’s been fired and not allowed to be near the
pool ever again. Despite the bruise on my skin I
was happy to get my revenge to speak out and not
let the fear take over me from within* ~
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:45 AM UTC
And the journey begins
From the land of 10,000 10,000 mile high clouds
Drenching jungles and shores of ancient coral gardens
Long since harvested from the sea
Where they plant the love of their country in foreigners row by row by row
Where bananas resemble mashed potatoes and are served with onions
Where people can name the entire Yankees roster and have never kicked a soccerball
And yes my feet are tired
Because flip flops, like the government, offer little support
And who knows when I'll get the last grain of sand out of my hair
Or when the ringing in my ears from trumpet blasts will finally fade
Or the taste of unavoidably ingested bug spray will finally stop burning the back of my throat
my speedo tan lines will likely be the first to go
But all the myriad lessons internalized (read: only spray yourself with bugspray out doors)
All the friends friended with zero electronic interference (like the turtle hatchling I held or the man who volunteers years of his life protecting them for results that likely won't be seen in his lifetime)
Will live inside me forever
For, ever will my journey continue
Until we meet
And I can share them all with you
We can feast on them together
And they can maybe one day help you grow
like a mangrove tree
and harbor ideas of love in your roots like baby fish
And maybe if you're lucky, even taste the bug spray for yourself
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
It's one eighty on the speedo,
I can almost touch Toledo
and the train is melting steel.
I feel
alive.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
I have a big brown dog named Beedo
He looks real good in his speedo
He likes to swim in the lake
After he lays in the sun getting baked
My bros name is Nat
His hair's looking quite flat
Sometimes he smells like a bear
Even though his body shape's a pear
We have a loving mother
We'd never trade her for another
For Christmas we got her a vest
The vest was only for the best
My name is Jackie
I can be extremely wacky
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
You may think that I am famous
Can't recall my name but
You've seen me hang out with the stars
Believe me I'm right there with ya
I'm in their every picture
They don't know me but I know who they are
Thought it'd do me a world of good
To move out West to Hollywood
And try to get my name put up in lights
I myself see nothing wrong
Being the king of the Photo Bomb
Though I'm still matinee and not full price
When I see a major star
I run up to their fancy car
And kindly open up the door
They all give me the strangest glance
When they can't quite place me yet
They feel they've seen me somewhere before
I'm at the next table in the restaurant
Sitting smiling nonchalant
Big toothy grins when the flash bulbs go pop
I'm the guy by the swimming pool
In the Speedo looking cool
Waiting on the Photo Bomb to drop
Or the guy on the red carpet
Expertly placing my spinning head
At the perfect strategical angle
So when the picture does appear
In all the Major Rags for years
I'll be more famous than Charlie Rangel
Those of us that'll never make it
Can anyone really blame us
For trying to slide our way to the top
It's all I really know how to do
If you really must know the truth
My only claim to fame...the Photo Bomb
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
Shut the **** up! You moan more than what I do.
Ever thought there's people going through more **** than you... Way more, like ten times more, then times that **** by 2. Oh, wow! Someone pushed in front of you in the supermarket at the express queue. Oh poor you! There's a starving family in the slums that's been poor for so long,so long, longer than the amount of times you've circled the sun , but your self worth circles around you. You're in a galaxy where every star represents your ego. You and your petty first world problems make me cringe just like a rich hairy dude, over indulging while he dines on his yacht in a speedo. The point of this is that your **** is petty, just like the guy in the speedo, he looks like a yetti...mindless jibba-jabber, ask yourself does the world need this? NO!!!
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 5:32 PM UTC
I asked if you recalled
the time in the snow
to mega bed you hauled
your bag and your speedo
Got there, you sprawled
said your back had a blow
Said the mushrooms you did
made your self-worth glow
You claim you're too busy though
I know you still care
but something warm fills me whole
not happiness, its unfair
How you once trudged through the snow
just to smell my hair
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 12:21 AM UTC
We went to sit at the front of the train
In seeking that extra thrill,
Marlene and me, and a guy called Kane
Who came from Mulberry Hill,
I hadn’t known him at all till then
He said that he knew Marlene,
And she had smirked when he said he knew,
She didn’t know that I’d seen.
Now this was one of those super trains
And we knew how fast it could go,
Over two hundred clicks, they said,
They certainly put on a show,
We sat in the very front window seat
Could see where the driver sat,
He wore a coat of orange and green,
A ridiculous pork pie hat.
Well, finally someone had signalled ‘Go’
And we rumbled off down the line,
To start, the engine was going slow
The driver had plenty of time,
But then, once out in the countryside
He must have been feeling the heat,
For it went so fast, down the track at last
It threw us back into the seat.
The trees and the meadows were flashing by,
No sooner there, they were gone
The little farms and the rustic barns
Like the gardens of Babylon,
Marlene was pale, I looked at her face
And Kane he was almost white,
‘I think we’d better move back,’ he said,
‘I’d like to get home tonight.’
I said I’d stay, when they both got up
And moved to the back of the car,
I didn’t want to give in to fright
We wouldn’t be travelling far,
But we missed a stop, went roaring through
And I looked where the driver sat,
He was slumped on over the speed controls
With his pork pie hat in his lap.
When the speedo said a hundred and ten
I first thought of throwing up,
It reached a hundred and ninety when
I did, in a paper cup,
The driver lay there, dead on the stick
As far as anyone knew,
We couldn’t get into his cab to check
And as for the train, it flew.
I joined the others, up at the back
And wrapped myself round a pole,
So when the rescuers got to me
At least they would find me whole.
The others stood, and clung to a rail
That passed up over their heads,
I said, ‘Get down, that metal will fail
And both of you end up dead.’
They wouldn’t budge in their deadly funk
Their eyes were popping and white,
We hit the buffers at General Trunk
And both took off in their flight.
Kane headfirst like an arrow flew,
Marlene went more like a ball,
So where Kane went through the windscreen first
The hole was narrow and small.
Marlene, there wasn’t a piece intact,
A rescuer known as Krips,
Said he had just been checking around
And found her child-bearing hips.
I got a terrible rupture where
The pole almost cut me in half,
Since then, I don’t ever travel by train
But stick to a horse and cart.
David Lewis Paget
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC