"spork" poems
I don’t believe you.
There’s no way you could have
fended off those velociraptors
and their inter-dimensional captors
with a spork and a water gun.
No, you didn’t go into the matrix,
or find an heirloom of the Norse,
or find a cure for when your throat gets hoarse.
You most certainly did not bring forth
Satan with a glass-blown tuning fork
and those pictures you have are photoshopped.
A seismograph cannot detect a pulse
from that distance, you would have to be close,
so it did not help you defeat the devil,
which you’re undoubtedly making up as well.
You cannot throw marshmallows
into black holes, you would be crushed
by the gravity, far sooner than pushed
within marshmallowing range.
You did not **** nor disembowel
a mutant roll of paper towel
nor did you invent the interrobang.
I wish you would just please quit trying
to convince me that you came back from dying
especially after you weren’t mauled by a bobcat.
You did not inject yourself with nanobots,
or anonymously author a Times Best-Seller
about the struggling wife of a poor bank teller.
Stop deluding yourself, Johnny, it was only a dream.
Son, go back to sleep.
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 4:56 PM UTC
You're a mad rapper
I'm a mad hatter
Ideas in my head always bleeding
So lyrics you won't be needing
You spit them
I write them
You rap them
I rhyme them
Lines we be exchanging
Like I'd be interchanging
The lanes fast on the freeway
Paving the roads leading away
From the ghetto
Like Pinocchio was to Geppetto
We be each others woodwork
Combined we be the spork
Together in our minds
Like buns on girls behinds
We ain't getting lost
Whatever the cost
We'll stay in the light
Never fly stay and fight
Cause we be the illest
Cough Cough we infect the rest
Wanting to be part of the fuss
They try and copy 'r' us
But they will never ever
Be as swift or as clever...
© okpoet
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 2:15 AM UTC
Every now and again, I think about where my dad might be, and what he might be doing at the very moment in which I think of him. “No dignity, no duty,” I remember my Grandfather saying. We, meaning my mom and I, think that his current dwelling is south, somewhere in Arizona. Maybe alone, maybe with a recent girlfriend who hasn’t realized how two-faced he is yet. It went something like this: when I was the little old age of three, he decided to leave me, my mom, and my sister. He said we were an expense not worth retaining. Having us around couldn’t pay back the debt he owed from his failing business proposition, the invention of a hybrid eating utensil that combined a fork, spoon, and knife together to increase the amount of table room at restaurants and finer consumption establishments for large parities of impatient patrons. His “would-be” investors claimed they already had the “spork” and that hybrid eating utensils were a thing of the past. He cursed the world, anointing the words **** you, I'll make it... I'll make it big somewhere else," and simply was gone ever since.
“Your father is a very bad man,” My mother explained to my watering eye. “I hereby excommunicate him from this family. We are going to love each other in this house.”
“What’s ex-chum-oon-eh-cating mean?” I asked diligently, wiping a tear.
“It’s what the Christian Church does to people who have been naughty. You’ll learn all about those religious doctrines in school, when you’re older. We’ll talk about it then little Bugaboo.”
And I was off to bed.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
Loner of the planet
Where dreams give way to musing,
Flemditation and Jarvoy,
Living with Jhello made of peppers, hot,
Loons scouring cobbled city streets
Frankenfood
Well treated with modelparse wine,
Reflecserve chortling along in
Hollogramorphing
phenoflutes;
Plan to watch a mockumentary,
broken by the doorbell -
A fairy telegram:
Invite to brunch
From Trolly,
Best friend, the only,
One to teach me
How to use my spork.
Glad to lose the smog of this morn,
I dress-up cheching the mirror:
Great a fit of my suithalf.
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 12:24 PM UTC
Uncle Sam reclines and unwinds
In his Adirondack chair
The Statue of Liberty reminds the Mater at Arms
Of the time when he was put in a peyote trance
It was only then he caught on
He rammed his head against his headboard every night
Wracking your brain, trying to wrap it around the concept of the excommunication of those who have had their mouths washed out with soap
There will be no fanfare for the stray lambs
They are only meal tickets for the clergy
Concord grapes and word of mouth
Raise the question, "what is in a hot dog?"
Don't latch on to me after I dance with you into mad denial under a brass florescent chandelier in front of all the stock brokers and shareholders
I'll dismantle your silver lining with a spork
The cow pies disappear due to erosion
It's good to see you, I didn't know burlap sacks were all the rage right now
Stencil your name on it for good measure
How do you feel after your ego death?
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
thanks
no i mean it
thanks
i was actually feeling a bit
d
o
w
n
and i needed you to tell me
on a monday night
at 7:53
in the middle of july
that i had i nice ***
it really brightened my day
to know
that i
a human person
can be complimented
because of my
assets
instead of the fact
that i work
all the time
without getting tired
or giving up
or that
i study
so much
i feel like
i'm falling apart
or that
i spend time
trying to make the world
around me
a little
bit
better
i really wanted to affirm
what girls are told
from the time
they can listen
that cup size matters
and whether or not
you fill out your jeans
means
whether or not
you might matter
that we will be ignored
in the work place
if we aren't
supermodels
and even if we are
that is all we become
bodies
not people
you know
somebody once told me
it doesn't matter
what you look like
because your personality can make up
for anything
which should be good
like
i look like quasimodo
but with a sense of humor
and a bit of *****
i'm esmerelda
i can look like a spork
but if i laugh
and play along
like nothing's wrong
like girls should
i can be a full fork
i love that i have to be something
really
i do
i love that being
is more important than
existing
i love that i have to be someone who listens and never speaks
i love that i have to work with all my might to be thin enough for people who don't care about other people
i love that i have to have a double d and up in order to be even noticed
i love that my **** has to be filled out and gigantic so that i can be assured personhood by a man
because girls are only
what
the
men
see
we are reduced to objects
who give up
and don't fight
because the women who fight
are criticized
and *****
and killed
and we can't stop it
because the more we speak
the more we are silenced
so thank you
sir
for reminding me at 7:53
in a menards parking lot
your wedding ring glinting
like the malice in your eye
that all i am
is
what you see
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 8:52 PM UTC
Her body ached his as gentle spooning
became frenzied
forking
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC
A while plastic spork
Met three silver spoons last night
Stuck-up spoons are dumb
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
Several years have passed,
Since I entered last,
It all went by too fast,
But what is past, is past,
To roll down one's cheek,
Like a little blue streak,
To be all but meek,
About being chique,
To fall in love with a boy,
To tease and be coy,
To be bored out of your mind,
and to play with a toy,
To move and relocate,
The urge to populate,
To quietly suffocate and,
To want to defenestrate,
To tap and to pop,
And cafeteria slop,
Ask about a sad mop,
And to epicly rock,
To create a playlist,
and to tease balled fists,
To hide amongst swollen mist,
And not to have time on your wrist,
To drop a spork,
and to study a cork,
In order to work,
And to stalk Bjork,
Which brings us to now,
And I don't know how,
With the time I'm allowed,
Through these lines, I quickly plowed,
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
(a story in senryu stanzas)
I get migraines.
- lucky me - glare can set me
off within seconds.
I always have a
pair of dark, polarized shades
with me - it’s a quirk.
When I was fourteen,
we lived in Shenzhen, China
very near Macau.
Macau, China, the
“Las Vegas” of Asia, is
the home of glare.
The Ritz-Carlton, has
a glittering galaxy
of bright chandeliers.
Those chandeliers move,
their silhouettes change shape - just
stab me with a spork.
Did I mention the
Mirrors? Every wall served to
magnify the light.
“You look awful,” my
mom said - our two week booking
became ten minutes.
“I just need sunnies,
those would work,” then I gasped
“I’ll look glamorous!”
We changed hotels, but
what a small world - my roommate
Leong grew up there.
We could have passed in
the yè shì as teenagers
and now we're roommates.
.
.
sunnies = sunglasses (UK slang)
yè shì = night market (simplified Chinese)
Mar 1, 2024
Mar 1, 2024 at 8:55 PM UTC
i love
i scheme
i was just a bad dream
i'm out of tune
out of whack
i stab myself in the eye with
an imaginary spork
can't find
the real thing
so i do a victory march,
not really pretending
wear my heart on my sleeve,
a faded t-shirt that says
"you shouldn't do that"
afraid to get stabbed in the chest,
i bleed myself dry inside ancient armor
stumble as i wear all five tons of it to bed
can't see
all the deepest scratches are from the claws on the inside
dragons may roam within,
but i'm no knight
rinse
repeat
same story
younger lips
ablaze
until i'm south when i should be facing west
off-axis
off-kilter
can't
make you
wanna stay
so now it's 2 am
and i watch as you ****
the promise of our unborn child with a single stabbing sigh
all because
i'm out of tune
out of whack
i loved
i scheme
i was just your bad dream.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
Slip
this sliver of if
Into the eye of my
Slim chances
To be
Blips of the abyss
Bifurcate the I
Am
What I would give to feel again
Adrenaline limps in unedited
Taxed synapse -glitchy-
You have zero messages
Only if
The times were mine
Gotta look alive lithe
signs signs
That's all we are
static designs
made for Likes
Stuck under the stab of cheap tines
Of a spork sticking the I-am
Waiting to be consumed
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, "It is just as I feared!—
Two tweakers, a rat, and a Jellicle cat
Have all built their nests in my beard."
There was an Old Man of Connecticut,
Who possessed an innate sense of etiquette;
He'd lay down the fork to the left of the spork,
That mannerly man of Connecticut.
There was an Old Man from Earth's center,
Who left it and couldn't reënter;
He crawled out a hole like a man who's a mole,
And lost his way back to the center.
There was an Old Person of Skye,
Who spent his days wondering, "Why?"
When they asked, "What's the word?" he replied, "Haven't heard,"
That discouraged Old Person of Skye.
There was an Old Man of Seattle,
Who had an attraction to cattle;
Considering bovine anatomy _so_ fine,
He prodded the cows of Seattle.
There once was from Thessaloniki
A man who was geeky and greeky;
An avid fanatic of things democratic,
He voted in Thessaloniki.
There was an Old Person of Perth,
Who buried his gold in the Earth
And then plum forgot whereat was the spot,
That forgetful Old Person of Perth.
There was a Young Man of the South,
Who mouthwashed with whiskey his mouth;
He spoke with a drawl, saying yes'm and y'all,
That drawling Young Man of the South.
There was a Young Person of Boston,
Who wandered around and got lost in
The Chinatown section with a raging ********
That poked out an eyeball in Boston.
There was an Old Person named Lear,
Who surely was scroobious and queer;
He sat rather fat, and Old Foss was his cat,
And he couldn't abide ginger beer.
Mar 24, 2025
Mar 24, 2025 at 5:00 PM UTC
We said hello that night long ago
Where I fell in love and didn't even know.
You bat your lashes and give me that smile,
You have no idea that you drive me wild.
You always tell me lava, a cute way to show your love. Always followed with the most amazing kisses ad hugs.
But you won't ask me the question I want to hear the most. To show some commitment and for me to be able to boast.
Then I find that you have another girl. When you were the center of my world. It looks like you are stringing me along. She doesn't even know of me, how long has this gone on.
I try to keep my cool and keep it all inside, no matter how it hurts I stay by your side.
Through the other girls, the people that you meet. I keep my smile shining bright even with my heart at my feet.
I am here beside you through all this pain.
I am here for you through the sunshine and the rain.
You say you are leaving and we will be miles apart.
You don't understand you already have my heart.
You can be in Kansas, Kentucky or New York. Or sitting right beside me eating with a spork.
You always make me smile which is why I stick around.
You have my heart with you and that is bringing me down.
I just need to remember that sometimes it's better to let go.
I need to say goodbye and find my next hello.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC