"swingin" poems
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle-jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand,
Vanished from my hand,
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping.
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet,
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.
Hey, Mr.Tambourine Man, etc.
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip,
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'.
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
I promise to go under it.
Hey, Mr.Tambourine Man, etc.
Though you might hear laughin', spinnin', swingin' madly across the sun,
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'.
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seeing' that he's chasing
Hey, Mr.Tambourine Man, etc.
12.1k
Perky ******* & Pouty Lips
Now I'm thinking I am, your typical male
who loves beautiful women, and all they entail
tall or short both, make my heart do flips
but the things that I, like for sure
it's alright if, they're somewhat demure
are perky ******* and pouty lips
a personality, is a wonderful thing
it would be cool, if she can dance and sing
don't mind playin poker, and bettin those chips
a sense of humor, with a snorting laugh
always willing, to give you half
umm but I crave perky ******* and pouty lips
I love watching them, when they come and go
swingin those hips, to and fro
make my heart beat do, a couple of skips
but look at those ******* and that **** mouth
causing a disturbance down to the south
god I love perky ******* and pouty lips
Gomer LePoet...
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 1:26 PM UTC
Hey man, I was just down at the club, and I heard some swingin' blank verse.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
Monk tinks tonight
fine glasses clink
convivial banter
bubble pop blink
in breathing rooms
bit woofed and stirred
the smoke mint sound
we dare exhale
Monk swings about
a bell do ding
the huey blues
bird bops on wings
hips juicy moves
rubby mounds wet ****
slow drum rolls blow
dance steady bump
Monk rocks the house
the clock do tick
me feets be tappin
gonna busta trick
key ******* bounce
mouths all agape
we gettin down
like crazy apes
Monk’s muzik rides
a sonorous beam
levitatin hipsters
to places unseen
gosh groovy tunes
a **** good gig
we all stoked up
Monk we do dig
Monk played alright
some swingin tunes
Happy B Day Monk
you over the moon
Thelonious Monk
(October 10, 1917 - February 17, 1982)
Thelonious Monk
with John Coltrane
Trinkle ******
10/9/13
Suffern
jbm
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 3:25 PM UTC
Cool kid euphoria with our pastel colored pants and our Raybans on is what we all are in the basement of the 50’s house.
Our phones blowing up while we sip whiskey and wine.
Trying to get the attention of the cars on the main road
By handstanding and flashing and cheersing our beers
And we receive our victorious honks.
Guitar clock radio with numbers around the fretboard and Sir Paul smiling and crooked, acid-trippin’ guitarist/violinist/celloist looking product of orange and gold look down upon as our patron saints.
Swingin’ low, Sweet Chariot words stares up at me from the 70’s floral carpet.
Ralph Stanley and Eric Clapton singing solos and duets in my head keep me company as the boys play and figure out key changes.
Painted screen hiding the Etta James microphone stands forgotten in the corner—
As I take in the teals and roses and golds.
Give me a heart shaped box where I can store my love
I fly so high in the world above
I’ll come back down eventually.
Lava lamped water stain engulfs the ceiling. As fingers go up frets
And they go down frets
And they go up frets
And they go down frets.
As you don’t enunciate when you sing.
We all mourn our fallen brethren, the base of the telecaster with no strings and no head and it weeps silently from its place on the water pipes, hearing his cousins WAAAIIIIILLLLLL.
As Cool kid euphoria is created with our pastel colored pants and our Raybans on in the basement of the 50’s house.
We work all day so we can drink all night
Getting high off the drug that is each other
Chain-smoking Pall Malls like it’s our job
Listening to oldies as we shoot the eight ball in the corner pocket.
Garden tools and Lawn Mower parts as a sweet, creepy décor in the dank basement
As we breathe in mold and dust and cigarette smoke.
We are gloriously young.
So **** off.
We still think we can change the world.
Not through politics or through fear or by means of war
But by doing just enough to get by and loving everybody for who they are, even the parts or religions or particular ways of life we don’t like,
Because people aren’t what they do or what they believe
They’re who they are.
We still think we can change the world
And Maybe one day, we will
But for now
We’ll just be here,
In the basement of the 50’s house with our pastel colored pants and our Raybans on.
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 11:38 AM UTC
We were just laying there
her in front of me
my arms wrapped around, holding her tight.
It was one of those modern cushy porch swings
as comfortable as a couch.
Kissing behind her ear
that one special spot
it got her worked up real fast
she grabbed my hand and slipped it down
beyond the elastic waistband of her pajama pants.
It was so cold outside
felt like she was steamin' on the inside.
She reached around and unzipped my pants
taking it out and rubbing it against her ***
the moon giant sized, yellow, and rare
above us
as I slipped it in from behind
still laying down, her in front of me.
It was such a relief
after months of no lovin'
on account of her Christian pre-marital *** guilt.
With each ******
the swing moved more and more
just swingin'
rockin & rollin with the *** beat
we had goin.
That's when we both heard the front door of her house
slam shut.
It was her mother.
From the backyard we could see the entire house
through the numerous windows.
Her mom was a real miserable *****
from China.
She hated my guts
hated everyone
especially herself, it seemed.
She was headed straight to the backdoor
we were frozen stiff
too terrified to move
my **** just sitting inside of her
our pants around our ankles
hidden beneath the blanket draped over us.
Her mom set down her bag and was coming right for us
we were caught.
And my pecker was about to get cut off
with a Chinese sword.
Then
not two feet from the backdoor
she was about to bust us
when my girlfriend's little sister
grabbed her mother's hand
and pulled her
led her back to the other side of the house.
We scrambled to pull our pants up
pulled the blanket back over ourselves
and sat upright.
I pulled her close to me
and gave her a soft kiss,
whispering
"Holy **** That was close, huh?"
"Yeah too ******* close. Oh my God. She would've killed you Danny..."
And she kissed me again
both of us cracking up and laughing in mid-kiss.
I put my arm around her and breathed a sigh of relief.
Her mother's voice boomed into the backyard
as the door swung open, hitting the wall
"HEY! GET YOUR ARM OFF OF HER!"
Whatever you say lady.
Whatever you say.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 12:11 PM UTC
Old gentle vague dark sea
stars uncoffined above
my drummer grave
blind of age,
meet Mr. Numb Feelgood
he is dying - chasing smoke,
following a blind parade
wanderin’ anywhere forked like Yes
at every dusty, homely, strange-eyed landmark
until driven deep down dead
Dear old diamonds,
my sleepy southern song spell fades ,
my past was a young clown
dancing, swingin' my magic heels
raging and cursing death’s grip on time
Now, I feel that morning’s fierce burn
vanishing into a tambourine memory
and I’m caught madly dreaming
against the ragged anywhere
to return green tomorrow
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
"Ah took a swing."
He said.
His profile raised,
he drops his head to his left, to face me with his lazy eyes.
I was becoming forgetful second by second
of the dull bulb that hung over my nerves; our skin.
He bared his teeth intentionally, it seemed.
"And cracked open his skull."
His eyelids would always droop down.
But he had wild eyes.
We had a description once,
"Satan's eyes." she said. Right before having another seizure.
T'was a god-crazed epileptic; just our luck.
"But ah didn't see 'at.
Y'see, it ull 'ent black. But ah wus swingin'.
Ah know ah was.
Ah felt'et."
He was lying. Those hits were too spot on.
Intentional. Angry. Mad.
Ravishing.
"Ah know y'like me doc. Ah c'n see it in ye face.
Ye legs.
'Ey shake when ah speak 'bout how they bled."
My legs shook..
His voice trailed off into a raspy ending, a whispered sound.
"How they begged."
The inside of my mouth was flooding with saliva.
..How embarrassing..
He smiled.
"'Ee should be pot'nis, ye know. We'd make a pretty couple."
There was a pause, almost too long, before he blinked slowly
and opened his eyes to observe a crack on the wall to his right.
He had complained about it before,
"'Tis too fuckin' noticeable." He'd say.
He wanted it to be like the other walls.
He wanted it to be neat and gray.
So it wouldn't be excluded, so it wouldn't stand out.
So it wouldn't be treated differently, wrong.
So it wouldn't suffer the injustice of the majority.
He hated things being out of place.
Mostly because he was sick of being out of place himself.
Ironic, I'd say.
He had a passion for making a mess out of his victims.
Ring..
The timer.
Ring..
Ring..
"See ye t'morrow doc."
Ring..
My legs were planted to the ground he smiled on.
Ring..
Ring..
..I think I love you.
Ring..
Ring..
Ring..
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 11:55 AM UTC
Yo I got skillz by the millions
With tons of ammunition
Who fuckin' with the commission my mission
Is to control the rap game blow fish tactics
From ******* who **** quick my **** stick
Slick leave em with one eye patch cookin' up another batch
Can ya catch
The madness of real ***** with multiple figures money surpassin' the aurora
Hardcorer grim explorer non could ignore tha
Deadly pedigrees sheddin so beautifully
Im feelin' like Mango Slade cuts through like a blade
Lyrics colder than the words from Chuckie
Coastin' spells I do it well it ain't hard to tell
While ya souls fail another body destined to hell
It's Yosef ninth gate chillin' over ya crates
Like a demon intervention got ya nerves
Penchin' and itchin' soon to be twitchin' and inchin'
My every move I'm takin' ove the earthly ground
Bow down what's that it's the Southside
Breakin' em down so ya bound to drown
My armed men stack men from the guns
That back bend to the roads ya
End
No longer boys to men to deaths I comprehend
Takin' on deadly sins seven to chose from
I'm makin' chaos from USA to the New Jerusalem
And who's dumb? Enough to **** with me
While I'm on my Crazy *** leavin' ya stunned
And outdunned and who can
Come?
Against my magnificence layin' hellish scents
In the forms of an emodiment
Who could stop it
Since adversaries are culprit let the snakes
Shake and take away these painful memories
Yeah I'm dreadin' ya head missin' the feds
*** I got more bread than Pillsbury dough
So quick with the skills and I
Know
Suckas don't wanna go toe to
Toe
**** mics worse than Exodus who can plex with us
The coldest strong as a swingin' boulders
Knockin' ya head off ya shoulders I thought I told ya
Southside stay running with hidden
Soldiers
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
It was social experimentation
To be locked away, windowless
Four walls, perpetually fixed
- as his figure in a lightless room
Ears removed, mouth sewn closed
Eyes blinded, no light, no sound
Muted humanity, no dignity
He happened upon a laughing child
before the procedure
and that sound echoed inside
Deep within his bowels it reverberated
Through his blood
Distorted in his stomach
Youthful innocent laugh,
it grew monstrous
It began to talk
and the beast within was personified
Day one he lost his mind
Day two was still day one
(how irresponsive time becomes)
Day three the laugh became a growl
Day four the voices started
Day five in absentia
Day six he was done
Day seven, bizarre interim
- that between life and death
Profoundly lost in swingin' psychosis
Met by the devil in detailed cerebellum
Watched memories deteriorate
like some reel-to-reel burning, spluttering
His wife now only a hydrogen hallucination
Do you, the reader, know true loneliness?
The observation deck was packed on day eight
Muted, yet guttural screams of anguish
from deep within his throat
Were haunting reminders of the damaging effect
of psychological studies and the fragility of humanity
The cataract voids in his stoic face
they betrayed fear, and begged captors
for some respite from this hellish dream
Until in a tormented blinded haze, the voice was clear
His ears still dead, though this voice was true
Spoke but three subtle words
The subject experienced simultaneous neurological
Joy and fear
He had heard the de facto vocalisation of some supreme
he spoke them aloud
his only utterance
and the teary eyed scientists gathered
sterile needle
no words
dead.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
When the carrot finally snaps,
And covers the world in mushrooms,
And the thoughts and dreams of billions cease-
We'll be where that sacred spore takes hold,
Waiting for it to bloom,
Patiently waiting while making love
Sacred spores with sacred purpose!
Find your targets well!
Find us! Find us!
We are fertile soil!
How delicious would it be,
For spore and seed and egg to meet?
A life beginning,
And ending
In one spectacular flash and roar!
**** we'll go down swingin'
To every movement swayin'
Your hips and mine, sweet slammin'
You know what I'm sayin'?
And as the flash and roar subside,
We will be mushrooms
And tar
And ions
And eons
And eons
And eons
We will be gone <3
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 4:35 PM UTC
Bright light city gonna set my soul
Gonna set my soul on fire
Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn,
So get those stakes up higher
There's a thousand pretty women waitin' out there
And they're all livin' the devil may care
And I'm just the devil with love to spare, so
Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas
How I wish that there were more
Than the twenty-four hours in the day
Even if there were forty more
I wouldn't sleep a minute away
Oh, there's black jack and poker and the roulette wheel
A fortune won and lost on ev'ry deal
All you need's a strong heart and a nerve of steel
Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas
Viva Las Vegas with you neon flashin'
And your one arm bandits crashin'
All those hopes down the drain
Viva Las Vegas turnin' day into nighttime
Turnin' night into daytime
If you see it once
You'll never be the same again
I'm gonna keep on the run
I'm gonna have me some fun
If it costs me my very last dime
If I wind up broke up well
I'll always remember that I had a swingin' time
I'm gonna give it ev'rything I've got
Lady luck please let the dice stay hot
Let me shoot a seven with ev'ry shot, ah
Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas,
Viva Las Vegas, viva, viva Las Vegas
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 11:06 AM UTC
I'd like to eat a mango
As I glide through a Tango
My bubbles would pop
While doin’ Hiphop
I’d soothe my soul
Swingin’ Rock and Roll
No time for slumber
While doing the Rhumba
My blood would pulse
To a Viennese Waltz
Dizzy’s how I’d feel
Skipping a Scots Reel
I’d dance Ballet
With my valet
I’d cut a rug
Doing jitterbug
I’d be happy as
Improvising Jazz
I'd like to swing a Fire Poi
In exotic far away Hanoi
I’d fly to San Francisco
To indulge in Disco
I’d as soon not talk
Sliding through a Moonwalk
I’d wear a yarmulke
While doing the Polka
I’d get the gist
Of doing the Twist
I could unwind
With a Bump and a Grind
I’d take off my wig
For a fast Irish Jig
I'd be a hot Mama
Performing the Cha cha
My heart would sing
To a Highland Fling
I’d step up the tempo
To stamp a Flamenco
I'd feel alive
Just doin’ the Jive
Now the ending’s your choice
For better or woice!
One is glad One is sad
Pick one and it’s done-
I’m off to France It’s the witching hour
For a chance to dance And I’m a wall flower.
Tricia Lambert
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
Shades on
'Brella
Swingin'
Merry
Is the
Rain that
Falls on
My head
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 5:59 AM UTC
Pickin' up my pants
From her bedroom floor
Lookin' at my latest victim
From the night before
When I was drinkin' everything
Like it was going out of style
I was drowning my sorrows
When I saw her fire up a Marlboro
She was
Swingin' her hips left to right
I've had this feeling before
Although,
It's been awhile
As she cranked that volume dial
I saw ***** cut off shorts
Raining fabric to the floor
Wearin' a low cut top
Givin' everyone a show
She had ***** blonde hair
But, I bet there's none down there
I'm thinkin'
I might give it a go
Because, she's the town ****
And, I'm in a rut
I'm gonna
Give it to 'er tonight
I throw her on the bed
So she knows her place
I rip off her clothes
Adding a little slap on her face
Because, she's the town floosie
It's gonna be a doosie tonight
As I finish her off
She lets out a cough
And I just
Watch her there
As she lies in the wake
Of a psychopaths fate
She knows
She ain't goin' nowhere
Because she was the town hussie
And my mood was a little fussy
I just
Had to release
Myself unto another
And see the blood sputter
As I
Watched in peace
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 2:31 AM UTC
When I look at you,
I see the frustration in your liver,
I notice the lack of fight in your lungs and I see stutter of your heart.
You don't deserve to die, so stop trying to. You don't see it but I stare right through you.
Unload your weapons
before your lungs stop swinging.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
Those West Texas *******
Sure look pretty good to me,
On the way back home,
to Nashville Tennessee.
I don't wanna hang out,
to the east, west, south or north.
Gonna write me a song,
swingin on my front porch.
Crickets sing in the background,
while feet stomp this here oak,
Pass me the slide and I'll take you on down the road.
My woman says I drink too much, and I agree with her,
Tie the devil round the bottle, make me a fishin' lure.
This Road's mighty hard on poor souls, especially the likes of me,
Take your candid pictures now, drown your worries down by the sea.
From where I stand today,
At sixty three years old,
I've lived twice the life,
of any man I've ever known.
No makeup, I got real scars,
All from after hour bars.
Read my poetry palms girl,
tell me If I'm near or far.
Played every stop along the way,
Sometimes got out for free.
Look at this face child,
Don't reckon I owe a fee.
Leaving those West Texas *******
easier than it seems,
Gettin' back to my front porch is where I Wanna be.
_trf WPbumblefoot
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 12:03 AM UTC
I be illin'
The bones in my body be chillin'
The dope that I'm slingin' be killin'
Zig Zag fillin', 40 zoner swillin'
I got twenty...got a five, bro? I'll cut you in!
I got twenty...got a five, bro? I'll cut you in!
I've bought plenty on the live wire, where you been?
I'm walkin' too straight 'n' I'm eatin' my mashed potatoes
L.A. hoes you don't wanna know
Keepin' my toes warm
See how they swarm
They're like bees when they tease me
With their slingers, humdingers
My epiglotis is a-stingin'
And my uvula is swingin' back and forth
Twenty, son, back to four twenty
I get away with a wounded knee massacre
I say what I please, Lenny Bruce on da juice
I ain't no racist
I'm a future born Papist
You got to listen to me
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
Your weltering words do not interest me
with its lack of true clarity.
Just your tongue
and all the inhuman noise it can make
Oh' schlepped out- sleeping son
you are the ever tediously coveting one
ungratefully burdened by soft sin
as if it does not alter the personality within.
Scrape gingerly the bottom of a bottle,
in despair carelessly compare disease
to your displeased humor, wash logic
along with blood from lacerated hands;
broken bottle pieces rasping like last words
empty of regret- with every sweep.
In blind acceptance with little malice
you slice ties cleanly as memories of allowance
have barely slipped and
menial wage paychecks become the sole script.
Only little things are still swingin'
but no longer with style,
limply dripping you are simply pathetic and
knowing this is the first step toward the corner mart,
wallet in pocket and to- locking all cold thoughts away
but you continuously fail to remember,
total absence is equivalent to suicide.
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 6:37 PM UTC
All us teens live for
Is crazy Friday nights
Filled with drunken confessions
And *flashing lights
Swingin records*
And fights with our ex
Dancin, liquor
And ***mind boggling ***
-CsR
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
****** if i
don't have it made,
porch swinging with some lemon aid,
bobber twitching there in the shade.
Weber smoking our ribs are laid.
warm peach pie cause we just got paid
last my Martin on which I serenade
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
Rock Stock the Engine Block
Let’s Get Swingin’
‘Cuz When the Moon Starts Sinkin’
We’ll Be Lettin’ Our Hips Roll All Night Long.
We’re all greased up
Like the T-Birds under a T-Bird,
so let’s hit these lights, Baby,
and rev our engines tonight.
We’ll roll around town
with our rock n’ roll blaring
and maybe later
we’ll catch each other staring.
Let me have a peek at what’s under the hood, Miss Pink Lady.
Dying to cruise down Thunder Road
let’s let our guards down
and see where this goes.
Rock Stock the Engine Block
Let’s Get Swingin’
‘Cuz When the Moon Starts Sinkin’
We’ll Be Lettin’ Our Hips Roll All Night Long.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
You look into the mirror, what do you see? Beauty
I look at my reflection and see the people that knew me
The new me, is the same, cause I couldnt scrub the stains
Scratch the surface and you still uncover the same dead man
And thats fine, all I ever wanted was money through rhyme
The road less traveled by, the road to roam alone
Blisters from the pavement, the bone, I sold my flesh and soul
To touch the throne, leave as smudge and mark music with my love
But **** it, I'm inconsistent, you've seen the punch that I've missed with
Assisted? No not I, all I see is my demise
And my girl talkin to other guys, I ****** hate these lies
And I ****** hated these eyes, and I ****** hate what resides inside
Me, myself, and I who else to think about besides myself?
Since day one struggled on the rope in which my life was held
Swingin, I get dizzy, and dread all those near me
Compare my thoughts to all, and then everyone will fear me
But still, I'm still unseen, to live a life in chase of dreams
I work too hard sometimes and all I want is some sleep..please.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 3:48 PM UTC