"stocky" poems
From the woodlands of Madagascar
To the highlands of Ethiopia
Dwell nine species of lovebirds.
Their genus name is Agapornis,
From the Greek agape (love) and ornis (birds).
The French call them Les inséperables
While affection between compatible pairs
Can be a joy to behold,
Lovebirds can be quite territorial
And will defend their nest.
Sexually dimorphic they mate for life.
Like all parrots they need to be well
Socialized and taken care of.
They are very vocal, making loud
High-pitched noises, especially
In the early morning time.
Stocky little birds
With short blunt tails
You can hold them
In the palms of your hands.
They love to snuggle,
They love to preen.
Happy birds: together.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Every time I see you
I want to scream.
My body trembles
From my head down to my feet.
My stomach dissolves
Within my stocky shape
I try my best to avoid you
But it seems as if there is no escape.
I miss the days
That you were not around
You claimed
To be receiving "help" for yourself.
********
But I was okay with it
Because your face did not curse me with its presence.
You treat me
Like I am ten inches tall
It makes me angry
To think about what you did to me.
I feel the sickness
Creep from my stomach
Up through my throat.
Every particle of my body
Wants to explode.
Deny the laws of science
It will.
And yet,
Nobody knows
That your perverted hands and mind
Explored my skin and my brain
When consent was not an option.
You would not let me change my mind
So am I to blame?
You make me wants to purge
But I will not
You make me want to scream
But I cannot
Sometimes,
You even make me feel like leaving this life
And never looking back.
But I do not.
After all,
That would be giving you
Too much satisfaction.
I will never grant you that victory.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
Alice was walking
At the back of her yard
when she spotted a gnome
well....standing guard
she knew she was gnomeless
she had a ball and a stone
but there in her garden
was a short, stocky gnome
he knew that she saw him
he tried not to blink
he stopped all his breathing
this'll fool her i think
she walked down the garden
stopped ten feet away
looking close at this person
who was dressed in green gray
she thought, this is crazy
a gnome in my yard
it was then that he moved
and he held out his card
she looked at the writing
it did her no good
it was written in gnomish
and only gnomes understood
the stare off continued
and then she asked loud
who are you, you gnome you
standing so proud
he said, i am biffles
at your service i am
in the back of your garden
here in East Ham
she said, why my garden
what is special to you
about my dear roses
and my runner beans too
he said, that a meeting
of the higher up gnomes
was being held there that night
there were elves and some pixies
and some twenty odd sprite
they were there all around her
though they couldn't be seen
watching her closely
in ten shades of green
well, biffles ...young sir
what is your job while here
you aren't at the meetings
what do you do my dear
i am sargeant at arms
when we're here or at home
i guess you could call me
(wait for it)
yep...i'm a guardin' gnome
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
Harriet turned back off the intercom and stood in the office for a few seconds. What have we done? I can't believe I let my ten year old son be the vessel to that thing. I can't believe we were stupid enough to summon that thing thought Harriet. Harriet walked out of the office and back to the worship area where Evil was waiting.
"Why do you have a look of concern on your face Harriet? What did you think I would be like?" asked Evil. "I didn't know what to expect" said Harriet. As Harriet and Evil stood eyeing each other the members of Sinister walked in the worship area.
"I'm glad you all could make it. Now sit down" said Evil. A stocky middle aged man walked up to Evil looked down at him and said "I don't take orders from children." with a smile on his face Evil broke the man's leg in half by giving him a front kick to his knee cap. The stocky man hit the floor and screamed in agony. The members of Sinister watched in horror as Evil wrapped his arms around the man's head and broke his neck. He then proceeded to rip the man's head off and throw it out the door of the worship area.
"Now if everyone would please listen to me very carefully. The person you see is not Levi. I am Evil. Your priest summoned me and I answered his call. The vessel you see is Levi but I am Evil. All of you may address me as Levi" said Evil. The members of Sinister looked at each other but didn't say a word. "Sit down. You all thought the Book of Evil was something to play with and that I wasn't real. You put the cult Sinister together to pass time and have fun. I am very real" said Evil as the members of Sinister sat down. "Your High Priest use to run the show but from now on I'll be running the show. You may now return to your rooms until I call for you again" said Evil.
All of the members of Sinister stood to their feet and returned to their rooms. When all of the members of Sinister were gone Evil looked at Harriet and said "I need for you to update me on world events. I need to know what's going on around the world." "You need to watch the Visual View Screen. The Visual View Screen is a device that show us World News, entertainment shows, movies, and music. What you need to watch is world news. Follow behind me" said Harriet.
Harriet led Evil out of the worship area and to a room where there was a Visual View Screen. She turned on the Visual View Screen, turned the channel to the world news, and the two sat down and watched the world news.
"That's it right there. It's amazing how Scientist and Bio Engeiners come up with things" said Evil. "What's it?" asked Harriet. "Don't you just love war? Your species create genius ways to **** each other. They created a virus and a cure to for the virus. The building where the virus is kept is under quarantine. We are going to release the virus and live in the underground city designed to keep the Scientist and Bio Engeiners safe if the virus ever got loose. Once the virus **** everyone on planet the members of Sinister will reemerge from the underground city and I will create a new world" said Evil.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 5:22 PM UTC
A Challenger, Challenging everything,
because everything was a challenge.
A goal was set, I continue to try to reach, do what I must to get there,
to over look one small thing.
And blow it all up.
The plans, they’re building, higher and higher,
higher they climb.
The higher they climb the harder they fall.
Fall, fall, falling they came down.
Nothing left.
Spartan was I, an old Spartan I am,
My shield is still on,
but my head is painted upon it.
For I hold, I hold my ground until the very end.
The very end I shall hold with my dying breath,
I shall not waver, in strength, courage, spirit, truth, loyalty…
What is loyalty? This question is asked when one can no longer trust his fellow
man.
I was a Spartan, my head upon my shield, and my shield up, as the rain of arrows and the trumpets of death may sound, I will not yield.
A Bulldog, an ugly creature, short, stocky,
yet ferocious in their fights, they show no emotion,
and their loyalty, unquestioning.
Their bite speaks louder than their bark.
Now I’m here, I hear,
Throw me a bone,
put me in the ring,
put up the lights,
watch me fight.
You see,
for
I am.
A Challenger, reaching for the stars
A Spartan, who held his ground.
A Bulldog, waiting for his next order.
These Are
the Mascots of my life.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
Clinging to the corner,
The ceiling,
The unused room upstairs,
The dusty cellar basement;
Lurking in the shadows,
Cringing from the light.
Retreating for now
But returning later,
Stronger, faster,
Harder to ignore.
Long, gangly, sickly;
Short, stocky, powerful;
Tiny, flitting, wispy;
Huge, full, pervasive.
Cunning, plotting, patient.
Always there,
Always watching,
Always waiting.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
So come everybody throw ya hands
In the air for me
If y'all feelin this jubilee
O yea so lets get back to the actions
Satisfaction
Of celebrities got ya main attraction
No actin I'm packing
Gats to baseball bats and who dat?
Call me poetry wack splat
Goes through ya back bullet hole
Filljn those
Empty spots ya can't touc what's hot
I got reps like birdie
Above the rim lace blunt with traces
Of v slims
Who can stop me if my potency
Is near infinite
I'm embedded in ya melon eternally
Too cool for y'all to see I be
With this jubilee a juvenile
Born in the wild never smiled as child
All I wanted was a few toys from micky ds
Could barely afford cheese
Make tracks sneeze when I breath
Got thick chicks from here all the way to Belize
Please don't be ignorant
Just throw ya hands up to this anthem
Ya can't phantom
The jubilee is slammin-
Come on
Not that the time is right
Refocused my sight the black knight
Knocking outsights now ya braille as **** for trynA **** with
The m o b s t e r ghetto star
All hands on the r
Ruger luger quick to shoot ya scoop ya
Out of the scene like ice cream
One man team
Don't need a **** near friend in need
Please believe
I got backups like traffic
Hit the skins is automatic cuz static
To radio station they hate me
Cuz I don't participate in ********
I'm concerned with
These ***** *** punks running politics
Donald Trump I gotta automatic thAt loves to dump
Throw his *** in the trunk
Puff skunks I'm slammin on the gas
Like an alley oopp dunk full of *****
Dikes to lesbians all want a piece of me
I ain't cocky but stocky like Rocky
Picket pock me ill find thee
Restin peace to my enemies
That couldn't get to me
I'm hater proof so y'all just throw ya hands in the air for me
And represent this jubilee ahh. Come on
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
Live
inside the execution chamber
a stocky warden
poker-faced and middle-aged
begins
the medieval ritual
with words of cold indifference
addressed towards
Ted's emotionally dead
terrified head.
A warder
grim-faced
stands to one side
arms folded
as two others
begin to buckle
thick leather straps
around Bundy's ankles
wrists and chest
to the chair.
No cold condolences
the electrodes
on top of his head
a black mask
covering his face
until the signal is given
a raised arm
to the executioner
hooded in black
who pushes a lever.
Bundy's body arches
spasmodically convulses
tensely straining
paroxysms
the neck taut
head stretched back
blood oozing
from the nostrils
then slumps
and is pronounced dead.
The warders
remove the crown
and mask
unbuckle the straps
as the chamber empties
and the executioner
doffs the black hood
to reveal
appropriately
a beautiful woman.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
I'm like Alice;
I fell & now I'm sitting
because I can't choose
between the "Drink me"
or the "Eat me."
"Go to sleep," you whisper,
I bite your hand, like a cat
with the arch of my back.
You're a short, stocky man,
barely to 21, already commanding
these things of me.
You spank me, "does that hurt?"
I'm indifferent.
You ****** inside of me,
"is that okay?"
I'm indifferent.
The story unravels, as my body
turns to sand paper.
I become so cold, I cannot sleep.
My words are rusted door hinges.
My skeleton, made up of bruised fruit;
unwanted, and worthless, even
to the most empathetic,
or frugal of shoppers.
You send me ambiguous messages
as if the internet can even maintain
the most insignificant,
unreal relationship that my heart
tricks my mind into believing.
I don't change my sheets,
because I think they smell
of your expensive cologne
and drugstore deodorant.
I'm stuck with sheets
that smell of my sweat,
and of my sour dreams,
our uncommitted relationship,
and my mind completely
tearing at the seams.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 9:58 PM UTC
Short and stocky
White bearded
Balding
Grumpy
Blue marker streaking across a dirtied dry erase board
A seemingly never ending lecture
Words, symbols, equations
Statistical theories
Is now an appropriate time to use the term, "mumbo jumbo?"
I sit here
Half listening
Copying his hand written problems into a document
Peck peck peck
Wishing that math and science were not so intertwined
But also that I will someday call myself a scientist
A scientist with a firm grasp of math
Email open in the background
Switching windows incessantly
Snickering at the memes you've sent
Reflecting on the previous days
Trying to understand your ways
Your words so specific yet so broad
Do I know you?
Do you know me?
Why is this so hard?
Will it ever be easy?
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 2:29 PM UTC
Against the snow smudging the landscape,
Grey thick fur and spots of black,
Stocky build and small, round ears to keep it warm,
Against the backdrop of a delicate snow storm,
Quiet creature, no ability to roar,
The sweetest of faces I ever saw.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:23 AM UTC
- Little shepherd, little shepherd,
Where's your flock, where's your herd?
Have you lost them in the fog?
Where's, shepherd, your watchful dog?
- Up there far, faaar away,
On that lane where horses neigh.
Keep on walking a little more,
Take no notice of a bear's roar.
Do not rush now, take it slow,
Before you reach the meadow.
You will see a stocky dog,
That guards my grazing flock.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
After school
Helen’s mother took you home to tea
and she was wheeling
the big pram along the pavement
with you on one side
and Helen on the other
and she said
hold onto the pram
while we cross the roads
I don’t want anything
to happen to you
and as you crossed
the busy roads
you kept glancing over
at Helen with her plaited hair
parted in the middle
and her thin wired glasses
and her raincoat
buttoned tight
against the wind
and her small hand
clutching the pram handle tightly
and beside you
Helen’s mother
short and stocky
pushing and puffing
and her eyes dark as night
and kind at the same time
and when you reached their home
and went inside
and she took off your coat
you went with Helen
into the sitting room
with a coal fire blazing
and the smell
of drying clothes
and past dinners
and Helen said
do you want to see my dolls
and the doll’s house
my daddy made
out of boxwood
with lights you can turn off and on?
sure ok
you said
and you followed her
into her bedroom
where her toys and dolls
were laid up along the wall
next to her bed
and she took up a doll
and held her out to you
and said
this is my favourite
this is Jenny
and you said
hi Jenny how you doing?
and Helen smiled
her slightly goofy smile
and you liked that
her smile
and her eyes large as duck eggs
behind the thick lens
and she handed the doll
to you to hold
and you held the doll
and kissed the head
and hugged it close
thinking glad the other boys
can’t see me now
here with this girl
and kissing and holding
the **** doll
out of some small boy love
and shyness
and you know
they’d laugh out loud
and point their tough boy fingers
and you’re glad
they aren’t there
just Helen
and her little girl love and kindness
against their rough ways
and small boy toughness.
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 4:01 AM UTC
There were four of them dressed in loud yellow t-shirts
and muffled white-washed jeans. Three carried rubber
ended stick-picks and sand crusted sky-blue buckets
for hypodermic needles and diapers and condoms.
The last of them, an older stocky gentleman with thick
red skin and no more than ten years left to live maneuvered
a grass-green, six-cylindered, diesel-powered tractor with
an old metallic rake attached to its bed across cold soft sand.
These four men are the edge-of-morning-heroes,
– they have to be the edge-of morning-heroes,
these four men, the beach combers.
My friends, have we appreciated the fruit of their labor?
the outcome of their edge-of-morning-efforts?
It was because of them that I was there, because of them
that the great lake was enjoyable, swimmable, because of them
that my heart had become a poem whose first stanza opened
with a young man staring off into the open, ocean-blue horizon,
water birds skipping, circling open-winged with webbed
feet behind him, his brown legs nestled firmly in the swash,
where to the left of him, a couple, neck-deep, was making love
between the familiar crest and trough of a wave, making love
between the familiar beginning and end of something
– going deeper, under still as a plane hummed overhead.
My friends, will the future appreciate the fruit of their labor?
the outcome of their edge-of-morning-efforts?
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
This body has seen better days;
it has suffered hard times.
Its skin is stained with scars,
the bones have endured both heat and cold,
the legs having walked thousands upon thousands of miles.
A young, yet world-weary body.
Every bruise,
every scar
a memento, a story, a memory,
a snapshot of when times were hard.
A sturdy, stocky body, more often than not
in tatters.
However, I immediately sew myself back together.
I am a scarred woman, not a broken one.
There are many stories inside this body;
I am a relic, full of stories and history.
But don’t let my look deceive you;
I’m fragile.
So when you look at me,
your supple hand preparing to touch my ****** skin
for the first time,
you must remember-
handle with care.
Dec 16, 2010
Dec 16, 2010 at 3:02 PM UTC
Welcome to the freak show...
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and kids of all ages; tonight we have the most tantalizing and unique freak show that we have prepared just for you. There will be things that you have never seen before, and that you will most likely, never see again. From all corners of the known world we have a very special show for you this evening.
It will frighten you, it may enlighten you, and it will definitely peak your curiosity. The ferocity of all these oddities is enough to drive anyone totally crazy...so step right up, come on in..."Tickets please, and for an extra fee, you sir may see, what it is that we hide behind curtain number 3!"
So come one, come all; come short, wide, stocky, and come tall; we will love and accept you all. Please come in and take a peek, it is our show than cannot be beat. Pinhead will let you in, and dog faced boy may greet you. But, it is the bearded lady that will really want to meet with you. Some things may scare you; but if they don't, then I double dog dare you, to stare at our oddities. You may do so wide eyed and wondrous, and without the thought of any apologies.
Have a tea party with the conjoined twins. Or, if you have a question; get in there and then ask the jinn. And, if the Jinn's answer were to cause an issue, the smallest woman in the world can hand you a tissue. After that, if you are still upset Girtha, our voluptuous rotund beauty, will gladly blow you a kiss; and she normally will not miss. But if she does, it is strong mans arms that will hold you down, so that you can not resist.
So come one, come all, to the freakiest freak show of them all. Buy some popcorn, and maybe a corn dog too...do you see that booth and the desk?
Buy a golden ticket now and get half off of at the burlesque! It's just 10 minutes after this show is through. It's right over yonder in tent number two. And, If you can't find the sign; it is the tent that is green, and the other half is blue. Lastly, there is a money back guarantee. This we can assure you, because we know that our lovely ladies, will never disappoint you.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 7:32 AM UTC
today I witnessed
something
so heart-wrenching,
the sight
of an old, stocky, bad-ass,
with a golden heart, man
be frail and in tears
because he was on his way
to
finalize
his divorce papers.
something he'd never imagined
of ever having to do
to a woman who he loved,
truly cared,
and provided for
thirty-seven
years of marriage
to end up finding out
that she never loved him.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC
We judge people for the things we hate about ourselves.
When you look at that girl all confident in her new black dress
Stop.
Don't scoff at her just because you aren't comfortable in your own body.
Just because your legs are too long and you may seem kinda stocky.
When you see that boy doing his best on his new guitar solo
Stop.
Don't laugh at him with friends just because you don't play an instrument as a hobby
And you wish you could and maybe that makes you snobby.
And when you see that family all together and happy
Stop.
Don't get jealous just because your family history is foggy
and you never really had a mommy.
We judge people for the things we hate about ourselves.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
stoked lightening, does where your fur stroked unmeeting skin
a ribbon grow heating wetly (at fingers tightly coiling sin)?
does where from stocky steam ****** ***** effuse drunk blood,
a stagger of giggling ****** giddily unstoppably bud?
perhaps, or, does (i know) your unknowing skirt a mutter
a rill of sweetness (acrid) as like honey and butter?
A query, i think, your parting question answers.
At cherry pressing; at crimson lancer.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 4:13 AM UTC
she looks in the mirror
trails a finger down her skin
doesn't feel her bones
ashamed of the skin that she's in
she takes a bite of the bread
succumbing to the devil
but she pours the ipecac down her throat
Mia and Ana, rolling in their revel
crying into her pillow
because she's so fat
everyone else is prettier
she's not even worth looking at
stops eating for a month
not satisfied with her body
death's knocking on her door
but hey, she's no longer stocky!
boys have been staring her down
lust filling their eyes
it's sad to see that no one else sees
this detrimental disguise
the blood trickles down her forearm
who could be more proud?
but inside she's screaming for help
screaming for help, real loud
she never got a chance to say goodbye
what a bitter taste
but she got what she wanted
and all she wanted was a dainty waist
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
His tanned, stocky fingers cupped a rose,
turning it toward the camera,
and I clicked the shutter.
He hoped only that the rose
should somehow be preserved.
I cared mostly that I might keep
the image of his strong, gentle hand.
Every day, except Sunday,
he gripped hammer and plane and saw and sander,
but here in the back yard,
before the day was gone,
he held a flower,
just so,
to catch the sun's rays,
as if to grant extended light
to this one bit of life,
and to me.
And I, sixty summers later,
repeat his act, feeling
so much less manly
--my own hand being mostly unfamiliar
with the grip of tools or boards.
Still, since comparisons will be made,
when it comes to hopes and cares
as to what gets preserved of light or life,
it seems that little changes.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 2:10 PM UTC
Yesss
Im a black sheep so i can diguise myself
Keep an AK 47 on the shelf
Dont ask me Who i am?
Call me ****** i really dont
Give a ****
Action im built tough
Since i am public enemy one
The media will never get enough
Suckas aint nothing but a bluff
Sound the alarm
As the Dj gets rough give me some of that
Funkyy stuff
**** aint never hurt nobody
Guns leads to so many dead body
Killuminati
Is what i yell stop naw get the bail
And lets free
All my brothers incarcerated for free
Smooth. As a criminal
My rhymes subliminal maximum minimal
Is the wage im in rage
Get the twelve guage
Lets do damage to the higher powers that be
I wasnt born a sucker
Im ready to die for free
In this world
Ya need fame just to get a little love for ya name
**** hip hop is where my heart is?
But its lost dont know where it is?
Killed by the jewish society gay mafias
Women and ill know they'll despise me
Truth is what i am
Urban radiooo doesnt even slam
Promote sloppy music to keep a rate on
I used a calling card
To dail in i tell them cut that ******** off or we'll break in
Entering to the station
play old school records rock the nation
I see you hesitation
Scared of a revolt took the emcees then jolt
Them out the way cuz they gay
Fashion fad lookin' peculiar
I still wear saggy jabos stocky medium afro
Hard core
Is the sound **** all these club sounds
No consciousness surround
The black community im all for unity
But how when the pushin' racism G ?
But ya know my topics will get tossed
Lost in the hour of the chaos
Damnnnn!!!!!
Cuz of the rebel i amm
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
Notice:
My folding knees are wrinkle-free
Synapses approve her words
"If you would have listened to me!"
Unfinished if you ask me
Sweatsuit mantled to her mammal's final seam
His iron and oxygen behind the curtain
Stolen by towels, filling the spinning tile cracks
For the woman to raise her stocky pants
My lips, chapped
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
come and kiss me wild.
wild like jaguars perched in the stocky boughs of trees.
wild like the minutes that wash away.
free as time's possessions,
small pockets of instant passions,
wild like the moment-
I ran my fingers through your hair
for the very first time.
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
When I look at them I don't see beauty,
I see fat and ugly,
short and stocky,
plump
legs.
The part of myself that I hate the most
He loved.
And isn't that what love is?
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC