"stang" poems
He floated like a butterfly,
Stang like a bee –
The one and only
Muhammad Ali.
“I’m The Greatest”, he always said,
20th Century Sports Personality,
Put his rivals to bed.
Yes, he WAS the Greatest, that’s for sure.
Above the rest by a massive score.
Faster than a hummingbird,
Slicker than a snake,
Those quick hands of his
They made opponents quake.
He’d get into bed
Before the light went out.
Rarely a whisper,
Usually a shout.
Like a long-distance runner
Ali had the endurance.
Anyone who fought him
Needed lots of insurance.
Ali was great and didn’t he know it.
A witty speaker and amusing poet.
Some of his lines I’ve used right here:
They had his rivals shaking with fear.
No way would Ali fight the Viet Cong.
For that he merits a Nobel Gong.
He was the champion of the oppressed,
A hero with whom we all were blessed.
He had charisma, way beyond sport.
Ali influenced our every thought.
He’ll call into Hell on the way to Heaven,
To knock out Satan, in round seven.
Paul Butters
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 6:57 AM UTC
Mind loaded like a gun..
Heart seeks like a Missile
Mouth shoots off like a Poetry Pistol
Velocity from verbs..words will drill
Into your mind giving you a mental thrill
There's a bang in my slang
Sting venomous when stang
Songs are sung this one I sang
Pieces of my soul my words are true
Writing these bullets shooting at you
In war of words I am a General
Topics range from Vegetable, Animal to Mineral
Endless ammunition arranged in rhyme
Rhythmm And Poetry machine gun of the mind
Hammer cocked..pull the trigger..bullets whistle..
Words glow from my soul shot from Poetry Pistol..
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
You broke my butterfly.
You stole my lullaby.
You stang like a bee.
Do you even want me?
You ripped my soul.
You gave me coal.
You threw my key.
Do you even want me?
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
*A Poeme from ye Penne of
ye right learned Professor Peter Buttocke
collected by hysse Pupille Edna*
There is an ancient Shittah in my Garden, eldritch and right dun in alle Aspect
Wherein dwelleth a loude and noisome Ouzel, ye like of which I have ne'er yet seen
Under thysse our goode Goddes fayre Welkin up in ye Skye above us alle.
This foule and unwholesome Beeste, with trespassynge shote-like ****** Effusiones
Hath performed ye veritable Antithesis of kindly horticultural Edulcoration
For whiche Sinne I shall emasculate ye Brute, so God may grant me Pow'r.
Sudating at ye Nostrilles I advance, my trustie Stang at ye ever-ready,
And I prepare to eject it from yon Pollard, having previous shattered
Alle its horryd Frangibles with one brave bolde frampold Blowe.
Thwacke! A last Piffero-reminiscent Warble escapeth loude from its fowle coronoid Appendage;
Right severe Damage and harsh fatal Ruine of Nature irreversible have I caused
To ye shaggie shamelesse little avian Runte, whereon Goddes smile hath ne'er dawned.
Thus descendeth it to the Faeces-bedecked Herdwick, and I titubate triumph'lly o'er its conticent Corpse.
And were there yet a duodenary Set of ye Frass-Depositors, I would not give a Demi-Testrel for their Survyvall
Should they e'er again infringe the sacred Privacie whych ye ancient Shittah enjoyeth in my Garden.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:37 AM UTC
Uneasy Agony
The pain
Rips, tears and pulls apart
Inside-out.
Explosive inside
Yet the tears can never slide.
Anger at first,
It takes control
Losing focus
Losing control.
Soiled and forgotten
Silent mind, silent mode
Talking to no one
Because no one knows.
Electricity sparks
A message comes to play
Angst turns to sorrow
Anguish is the game.
Pain succumbs.
Overpowering all
Guilt rides like a 'stang
Bucking, never-ending all.
Wretchedness drags to floor
Down without a fight
Tears fill the room
A silent ring, a silent night.
DarkNightNess (C)olleen
May 28, 2011
May 28, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC
My girlfriend's father turned
Sixty. The party was legendary.
I remember everything.
By the sea.
She was beautiful.
The microphone stang my
Lips as I read the
Worrior's Poem.
Her dress was the closest I came
To pyjamas this morning.
Now her father won't stop
Laughing.
Bailey's and IPA for breakfast.
Sometimes eggs deserve to
Remain unbroken.
She's warm and naked in bed, and
I'm laughing all the way
To her.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 7:19 AM UTC
my friend, Jenna, couldn't hang, angst
that boy never rang, angst
that insult stang, angst
I really wanna bang, angst
in the shower I sang, angst
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 1:47 AM UTC
Whiz-zip-bang shenyang ang;
Mang mangue flang hang prang pang;
Pinang lalang unhang kang youth defang khang;
Marang schlang gang wolfgang ying-yang xuanzang.
Klang sea get wrang.
Sang tsang li-kang gangue langues.
Thang drang crang tang harangue sprang zhang shang siang whang strang hang verdinsgang chuang;
Brang lang nang bhang xiaogang mahuang durang huang.
Hange hsiang und;
Zang rang kuomintang ourang section gang hang.
Krang pahang boomerang fang guilt;
Spang gang;
Hangsang xinjiang tunkelang slang tangue nanchang clang chang bangue vang ziyangbaoguang hwang pang the tsiang alang dang ylang-ylang.
Tang liang.
Overhang langue pyongyang.
Cangue sangh mustang stang frang yang lange kukang farang **** care sturm t'ang;
Zamang drang chiang road a jang;
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 2:51 PM UTC
Lone your stupor sits.
What reverie
you declare,
ambrosia never stang like this
since last the rain came stinging.
Ah but puddles my dear,
what fun!
I'll watch your splish splash
but let us not forget
the protection glass affords.
I fear large numbers.
I confess,
it's true.
It's not the hands per se,
rather the eyelashes
and how they remind me of teeth.
They chew me up
with a glance.
Still, what good
could one decimal eyelash hope for
faced with Napoleon's specters.
I'd wager on scarce.
Even so, eyelashes chewed through
my thatcher.
I'll have to buy
a new one.
One that isn't so fond of how the Swiss
process milk.
Not that it's desired
but it's still nice to have a tally
in the loner's column,
now and again.
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 4:12 PM UTC
When pop was a boy
Iz pride and joy
Was just to have wheels wiv a mota
Tricked up didn’t play, not in their hood
Even though you could
End result wouldn’t lift the skin - off a rice pud
Real quick in that day
Only came by the way
Of serious a serious wedge of pay
Aston, Ferrari, you could take to the bank
Hemi, Stang and Vette for the yanks
For most just wall posters and wanks
These days it different, back from the dead
Universal balance has got out of bed
And delivered justice for the poor petrolhead
You can strut your stuff, in your supa caa
But the kid in a Rex or an EVO jam jar
Gonna embarrass you, you fucken rockstar
We quikka N you - its no pop quiz
These days turbos and nitrous is the biz
Nuffink about the money just how big your ***** is
Want to put up your half million Mclaren
Thats just a few tenths quicka, than a subbie wagon
Equipped wiv a teenage ****** called Darren?
We quikka N you - even with your cash
One real aspect in life, where design and dash
Triumphed over money and flash
We quikka N you
And don’t you forget it
Now get out of my way
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 1:34 AM UTC
I was on an even keel
that a thief came along to steal
his name is anything that makes me feel
like I got the raw end of a deal
shifting my focus
to the biting locust
that takes my attention
poisoning intentions
with toxic tension.
I want to drive all night
I want to drive into a wall
I wouldn't be surprised if I fight
or curl up in a ball
curl up until I'm small
enough to escape the free-for-all
that locks me in frustration cages
a prison where the maelstrom rages
after I failed for ages
to calm my anger through life's stages.
I feel so guilty
I feel so bad afterwards
maybe someone could **** me
so I wouldn't feel so mad afterwards
but it's the bad actor's turn
so I'm glad that you're hurt
when I say what you're worth
I should be abstaining
from being so angry
but my stinger stang me
so now I'm framing
arguments for blaming
others who tried to save me.
I become competitively hateful
purposefully distasteful
counterproductive and wasteful
completely ungrateful
for the life I've been given
because of anger I'm driven
to cause endless schisms
and needless collisions
I need my volition
to be wrestled back from my anger
before my reflection is a sinister stranger.
I need a reprieve
to help me retrieve
what makes me see
a better way to be
but my sedentary spree
makes that impossible to receive
when I'm unwilling to find help
my brain begins to melt
giving frustration welts
beaten by the belt
of my own craze
and its violent haze
I wish to see the end of days
of my insane displays
that'll be forever ingrained
in the minds I've maimed.
Nov 5, 2021
Nov 5, 2021 at 3:33 AM UTC