"tsk" poems
Mrs. Claus was at the door
Making sure that Santa knew
He had to see the doctor
He must be there by two
Santa gruffed and grumbled
Said there's too much to be done
"You know I hate the doctor"
"The doctor's just no fun"
Mrs. Claus held fast and said
"You do this every year"
"and you always have a new excuse"
"when the appointment time is near"
Santa, said he'd do it
Although, it was done under duress
He could run an elven workshop
But the doctor, was more stress
He made it to the office
At two, precisely on the nose
The first thing the nurse said was
"Santa, take off all your clothes"
"You know we have to weigh you"
"It's in the contract that you signed"
"A little extra weight shift"
"Could get the sleigh all misaligned"
The scale said way past jolly
He was twenty pounds past plump
He was just below horrendous
Santa Claus was one fat lump
The doctor read the clipboard
And made a tsk tsk tsking sound
He said "Santa, you're much bigger"
"You're almost 5 full feet around"
"I have with me a letter"
"That the vet asked me to read"
"It says unless you drop some blubber"
"Four more reindeer you will need"
"Now, every story book out there"
"Names eight reindeer in line"
"And since you hired Rudolph"
"A lot have you with nine"
"But the vet now says you need thirteen"
"To get up in the sky"
"You've got to change your diet"
"Santa, please lay off the pie"
"I'm not saying all at once"
"But, you've got to drop some weight"
"Or, you'll be dropping gifts by plane"
"And you'll still be over weight"
Santa tried a little laugh,
Not a full out ** ** **
Truth be told, he'd lose his breath
He knew the weight would have to go
He got down off the table
Put on his hat, and Santa Suit
He looked as red as ever
When he tried to reach his boot
The doctor said "Good God Man"
"You can't go up like that"
Santa said "I'm fine doc"
"The kids want a Santa that is fat"
"There's a difference between jolly"
"Like the elf you're supposed to be"
"But Santa, count your chins man,"
"I lose count at twenty three"
"The elves are under orders"
"Not to load the magic sleigh"
"Until you commit to weight loss"
"And you promise right away"
"I know that you are Santa"
"And for this I may get coal"
"But, your wife, Santa...she scares me"
"She said she'd put me in a hole"
"Santa, lose some poundage"
"Give it just a little try"
"It's not right...thirteen reindeer"
"Flying through the Christmas sky"
"I know it's confidential"
"what has happened here today"
"But, Santa...I will tell her"
"If you don't...and right away"
Santa, said he'd try to
He said "just tell me what to do"
"Truth be told there doctor"
"The woman scares me too!!!"
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
There, I wrote it. Above.
I simply believe it needs to be in print... out there, so to speak,
And perhaps a few hundred may read, ********
And, hysterically, or in solace,
Make use of it;
Openly, lingusly or fingeratively,
As we do ***** ****** and ******* (tsk-tsk).
Whether you agree or not, please yourself.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 3:11 PM UTC
Seeing that curve
Makes me smile
Feels like I'm in a cloud 9
Even just for a while
People say
If you love someone, make her smile
But why everytime, you smile
I'm the one who's falling in love
Tsk....
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 4:14 AM UTC
Idle hands:
Idol hands.
One the same,
Not sure again.
Sit on the fence,
Yet who owns the yard?
The power of that prince
You disregard.
You forget the One
Who called you here;
Now to decide,
The choice is near,
For He said "hate your
Parents, sister, brother"
So if you don't serve one,
You serve the other.
tsk
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 2:19 AM UTC
A child wakes up , to mosquito bites,
and Christ-on-a-bike-it’s-diwali , the fiesta of lights.
the welcome vibes of halcyon tarried
as hugs and gifts and smiles are carried,
and waving her wrinkles mid-air ,daadi
says today! god , to his land was ferried.
Afar, the bronze herald of worship time,
the temple bell goes off in a celestial chime.
and cometh the priest , for the fire-ritual,
line my pockets now , come on , be spiritual.
but duh! your dhoti hast no pockets , saintly dummy;
tsk.. fret ye not , for it goes straight into my tummy.
mid-morning now , and mummy’s high-strung;
‘dust it well and dust it thorough and dust it till you burst a lung’.
‘garam pakode’ !! cries papa in his croaking tenor ,
‘but one by one’ and now he begins with the manners.
mummy is the last one , picking over the bones,
she always has been , for what a family she owns.
A muezzin somewhere cries the holy decree
heads bow down and a pigeon flies free,
from the onion dome , below the staccato claps
‘Ooparwala ! … ‘ the muezzin gasps ,
and ‘Ooparwala!.. ‘ a crowd chants in tow ,
and ‘Oops ! … ‘ the bird sheds it’s something and *****
soars high , and takes a bow .
hey presto! the night has come.
the moonless night of the homecoming lord.
sweetmeats and sugars and syrups and us ,
laddu-barfi , well , that strikes a chord .
Lakshmi , her owl , the glutton god with his mouse ,
revered an’ pleased an’ fed an’ flattered ,
and coaxed never to leave the house
while out there , bombs and crackers burst and batter.
The witch’s hour already , and the man ain’t home yet
the lord is home , to get things straight,
while the men all out on a greedy conquest;
pennies on the dollar , unwavering faith still,
for the beckoning bait .
A child wakes up , to mosquito bites
gone now is the carnival of lights.
a goddess fled , a father bled
a child scrapes off the waxy remains ,
the leftovers of candles ,pains, and no gains.
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
I'm ****** off with Robert Frost
And the guy who wrote Paradise Lost.
I ain't happy with Aristotle,
And especially John, the weird Apostle.
Don't mention, please, Shelley or Keats,
Blake, Byron or Yeats;
Each and every one you see,
(if you're ready for some truth)
Took their themes from me.
Don't look aghast,
Don't tsk and titter,
Their thievery's left me
Mean and bitter.
Just because they said it first,
Doesn't mean I find it just.
It doesn't give them ownership
Of my themes and authorship.
I write of Roads, Good and Evil,
God and Satan, love and leaving.
I know I'm internally bleating,
But I can't abide this metric beating.
Although they're merely dust and bones,
They don't have the right to own
All the great lines I have sown:
The best laid plans of mice and men.
(I said that before Robbie Burns).
Let me make this poeticaly clear;
***If I was there, or he were here,
I'd sue the *** of Will Shakespeare***.
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
Tsk tsk tossed
go out
Your suggestions.
Whisk whisk washed
flow south
Your directions.
Hiss hiss sorry
no time for
sage reflections.
Songs you sang will not be sung
Nor any tales of strength believed.
The brain embodied in such young
Must think it he first to perceive.
Ask every man
Who first made sparks?
From rocks to barks?
Blinding night and fooling fear?
Wholly gone ghost
Our first bright creature
He harnessed fire
Then disappeared.
Realizations when thought anew
Seem to skip from us awry.
So no Salutes
nor an ovation
For those who fostered
Us will be spied.
Gods truth your lips bespoke to youth
Yet still it's not their time to hear.
For these ears are full of magic
And your end rolls
Crushing near.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
Mr. Rory Richards
Lived his life,
Taking garbage
Out at night.
He shovelled drives
He swept walks,
He listened intently
While others talked.
Others talked.
When Rory wasn't
Weeding the garden,
He was outside
Hanging laundry.
Moms were jealous,
Dads were shamed,
But whispering neighbours
Never complained.
Rory's good
At the husband game.
He presented well.
The neighbours continued
To tsk and tsk.
On his way home
From work,
He picked up the kids
From daycare,
He'd find time
To volunteer there.
He'd have treats
At home for them,
And their friends.
He volunteered with
Cubs and Scouts,
Always finding
Extra time
For jamborees
And overnights.
One day the cops
Came on the scene,
Rory wasn't
What he seemed:
His computer
Showed a different man,
A lurking, luring
Child **** fan.
And the neighbours'
Tsks cresendoed.
At his trial
He sat abandoned,
But neighbours there
Gave witness to
A man they thought
They surely knew.
A family man
In his pew.
All his life
He lived beside them,
A man they let
Their kids rely on.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
I am my brother's keeper not his reaper
But it seems to me people rather die than survive and become stronger than they already were
Tsk shame on them, shame on me
It is sad that we are stuck in our old mentalities
We rather put each other 6 feet underground than help one another climb a mountain
Slavery may be over but now we are just binding ourselves in these rusty shackles that were left behind
They're cutting through our skin, poisoning our blood, corrupting our minds, making us forget that we have come a long way
That we are not where we once were
They strain us, drain us of all of our energy
Leaving us crawling on the floor searching for scrapes to put ourselves back together again
I understand that we are not where we wish to be
That we still have a long journey ahead of us
That we are still marching forward like soldiers
But it is not helping the fact that a brotha can go out and serve in the military for 13yrs and survive but come back home to his own street only to be shot in the head by his own partner
Then we complain saying the white man is killing us
Hell we are killing us
**** black lives matter
**** white lives matter
**** all **** lives matter
What we fail to realize that we are our own future
Not them
We control what we do
We control where we go
Not them
But if we continue down this dark path we are heading down
Well let me just say we won't have a future
And again I say...
I am my brother's keeper not his reaper
But the way things are looking
We will be our brother's reapers not their keepers
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
They keep on talkin’,
but the circle has spoken.
There’s no recession, no progression.
just inevitable repeatin’
Repeatin' repeatin' repeatin'
You run away to not be like your parents.
all the relentless vents
but they did the same.
and now you have the worst of names.
It’s inevitable,
Inevitable.
It’s Inevitable,
The Circle.
Dubstep has no soul,
punk and rap has anarchy as the role.
rock is about *** and so is the slow songs
why can’t we right any of these wrongs?
Now, your mess on your drugs
buying useless things like your Ug’s
lost in a calm that is perceived as bliss.
When in reality it’s not caring at all. tsk. tsk.
Well, we will do this,
we will get out of the pit.
Rise to be with kings of eden,
just to keep inevitably repeatin’
Repeatin' repeatin' repeatin'
Dubstep has no soul,
Punk and Rap has anarchy as the role.
Rock is about *** but so are the slow songs
why can’t we right any of these wrongs?
It’s inevitable,
Inevitable.
It’s inevitable
A Circle.
Cut it, cut it down,
Break it, break it now.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 11:42 AM UTC
**zero context shifts
*multitasking is multi~asking your brain
to do what does not come naturally,
the enthused poem starts up, lion roaring,
a muscle car, brain throbs organic pulses
semi~orgasmic of a near-completion in
your neuronic ***** exciting and ****
all you-writ so far is:
your name, some crazed, minimal
two fingers of words with
no context, no preconceived word lotion to
balm-spread over the enflamed areas of
your brain skin
except that it’s
6:47 am, coffee in hand,
your woman slumber rumbles a left over dream,
speechifying, and room, cool conditioned cold,
ignoring notifications of overnight elections,
and a reminder-by-photo where you were this
day seven years ago today, all put asided,
permission ungranted to any distractions,
there will be zero context shifts* til the
spillage of your morn squeaking meager is fully
pillage~d here, it be within my it-takes-no-
village,
@ 6:56 and Whitman is tsk-tsking at the low poetry of my scripting, Hafiz says “hey!
nothing about god or love, what good is that?”
but it’s ok for i’ve emptied the early morning
brain bowels,
defused fusses and asides, tossed asided & there is yet some coffee
remaining but the expiation for having been
reborn this newly birthed day has earned me atonement
for taking up space in this planet
and as of yet, I’ve not stated yet to any, no. all
humans, I hate you ~ but the day is infantile
and opportunity plentiful
@7:03AM
nyc
morning
Wed Nov 8,
in the year of hatred,
a/k/a twenty twenty three.
Nov 8, 2023
Nov 8, 2023 at 7:33 AM UTC
She is as a quilt.
Soft from use
Threads unraveling
The squares and the pattern
Reveal her history
Dark at times
Moments of brightness
Blinding pain
And the incomparable color of hope.
See the pictures sewn into the patchwork squares?
The one with the tears?
The lonely figure walking the streets.
That was when her world was lost.
See the bird on the one in the middle?
That is when she learned she could fly.
The ship in the corner?
That is when she found her soulmate.
She is as a quilt.
Soft from use.
She covers those she loves.
Warms them
Protects them
Comforts them
Provides them with a soft place
To land.
She is as a quilt.
Soft from use.
People come and see
Her imperfections
They pull at her threads
The tsk tsk with their clicking tongues
They tell her to take better care
That she is looking worn
They pull at her threads
And she unravels.
She is as a quilt.
Soft from use.
Beautiful in her imperfection.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
Needing evidence they had to dig back 4 years and take a look
Finally finding words to use against me they say
Blocked from ****** book
For another 21 hours and 28 days.
It's true I am a unique individual
And as many see the world in my own particular way
But Comrade Zuck all bow to the king disagreed
Clamped on the irons and silenced me
For another 21 hours and 28 days.
Your meme goes against Community Standards they said
Tsk Tsk and they slapped my hands for being bad
Just one post outside the Matrix was all it took
To get myself blocked from Commiebook
All Rights Reserved@ Tammy M Darby My 18, 2019.
All Material Stored in Author Base.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 10:17 AM UTC
Tsk tsk tossed.
go out
Your suggestions.
Whisk whisk washed.
Flow south
Your directions.
Hiss hiss sorry.
No time for
sage reflections.
Songs you sang will not be sung
Nor any tales of length believed
The brain embodied in such young
Will think it he who first perceived
Who first made sparks?
From rocks to barks?
Blinding night and fooling fear?
Our first teacher
Godfather to fire
In this new day
remains unclear.
Realizations often
Skip awry
Salute nor ovation
For you my friend
Draw nigh.
When truth escapes your lips
It is not their time to hear.
For some ears are full of magic
And your end is
Rolling near.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
You gave dusk
A whole new meaning.
The coming of darkness
Has become my greatest
Most terrifying fear
The one that knocks
On the door
At the end of every day
And that creeps past the threshold
Welcome or not.
And it all become a game
Of hide and go seek
As I run from the pain
Cower from the emotion
Flee from the memories.
tsk
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
If I told you that I wrote this
from the love I have for you
would you give it a second glance
would you read this whole poem through
would you look at me and just "tsk tsk"
this simply just won't do
If I wrote I until I could no more
would you read this
or would you still ignore
the me that was with you
through the times we used to adore
and would you go back to your house
hop into bed and begin to snore.
Even though its the middle of the day.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
when i look at her
i see a simple girl
someone with no expectations
someone content with
what she has
not wanting more
always smiling
even when humiliated
she laughs
thinks every thing's funny
and is happy
she can make others laugh too
even if it's at her own expense
she doesn't ask for much
no demands
never pouts
just flows through life
almost nonexistent
not many would notice if she left
or didn't come
there might be a few probable
tsk tsk's
if she passed
but this is the path she chose
this is the path she follows
though pathetic to some
to her
this is her life.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC
On a night like any other,
I went outside to have a smoke
I saw a gecko on a tree
and to my surprise, it spoke!
Tsk, tsk, tsk
the lizard said
Its haunting disapproval
followed me to bed
The next evening, I came back
to see what its problem was
I asked, "You disagree with cigarettes?
I'll quit the habit, if I must!"
Tsk, tsk, tsk
the lizard said
I can't be certain, but I'd bet
it was shaking its little head
The following night, I returned
to again face cold-blooded judgment
I lamented, "Why do you torment me so,
without reason, with no argument?"
Tsk, tsk, tsk
the lizard went
By that time, my patience
was utterly spent
On our last meeting, I carried with me
a pair of scissors and ****** on my mind
As I approached the gecko with sharp intent,
suddenly the tail detached from its behind!
Tsk, tsk, tsk
the lizard mocked me as it left
Moonlight creatures claim another victim
Of my dignity, I am bereft
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
It has been so long since I last heard my name out of your mouth that this time, it takes me by shock. I’m standing in the shadows, mouth agape, and you’re illuminated by the sun rays, blinding smile on your face. It’s funny, I note as a passing thought; we’ve been the light and dark of each other for as long as I can remember. You pull me out of my stupor, eyes finding mine and as always it feels like returning home.
"Are you coming?"
I shake my head, the weather is searing and my health is frail. The sun has never been a sanctuary for me like it has been for you, hair a faded brown and skin tanned from overexposure to the day. I pale in comparison, thriving in the moonlight and the shadows, at night and in the cold.
To my surprise, you don’t push any further. The briefest shock in your expression lingers before realisation sets in, and the corners of your lips turn up. It then occurs to me that you remember all that I have told you before, years ago when I thought you weren’t listening. I suppose you have been, all this while. A small spark of hope ignites somewhere deep inside my lungs.
"Tsk."
You truly smile by this time, fondness embedded in your gaze and the hints of affection in the tilt of your head. I return the gesture, a nervous, happy laugh escaping even before I can stop it. The moment is a giddy whirlwind of emotions; I have never been able to control myself around you.
-
I never notice until much later, but I spend the rest of the day away from the shade and under the sunlight; transfixed by your stare.
In these moments I can only think of how much I love you.
(A.H.Z)
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 11:24 AM UTC
Oh, you’re so cute
You think you can fix it
You think you can find a magic word
To make it **** and fly away
How about as you writhe and scream
You’re not as cute starved half to death
Shall I gorge you now
On the finest food around?
Where are your magic words now, little miss?
You’ve lost them, haven’t you
Tsk tsk
And it’s not yet poofed and flown away.
You’re no longer cute, not in the least
Do you hate the child you were?
The child whose search for magic words
Led it right into the eager maw of the world
Now you’ve given up each shred of hope
Soon I’m sure you’ll rise to my throne of taunts
But before you go, so thoroughly beaten
There’s one last little thing I must tell you.
There was a word
It was there all along
The abracadabra you sought for so long
Now!
Away to your kingdom of torture and lies
I know you’ll enjoy it, as I have mine
And remember that word that you’ll never find
For it will inflict on your subjects the keenest pain they’ll ever know.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 6:27 PM UTC
You say you accept us?
Why the hell do you use 'that's gay' as an insult if you're so accepting?
And when are you going to learn that there's more than just gay and straight. Just like there's more than black and white, and there's more than ignorance, though I rarely see it!
And if you think the word 'faggot' is ok, then walk away because we're gonna have a problem.
You have it so easy.
Do we walk around asking you why you chose to be straight?
Should we?
DO YOU GET FORCED INTO ******* CONVERSION THERAPY LIKE OH NO, WAIT, YOU'RE STRAIGHT? TSK TSK LITTLE BOY. GAY IS THE NORM, BEING STRAIGHT IS JUST A PHASE!
No!
You don't.
And I may be wrong, but has anyone ever slit their throat because someone was like 'oh, you're straight'?
Probably not, right?
So get out of my face unless you're going to accept us, because there shouldn't even be a question about this! We just like different people.
Stop making us afraid, stop using our sexuality as a weapon, stop questioning us, just stop.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
>¡<
^¡^
^¡^
>¡<
Mourning doves
lament the dawn
The air is filled
with clucking song
Mockingbirds
sing sweet and high
Pigeons reach
to touch the sky
Gamble Quail
swoop low to ground
Cactus wrens
make chuckling sounds
Desert Thrashers
go "tsk, tsk, TSK!"
Flickers pound
the satellite discs
Feathered finches
search the stones
Light as clouds
with hollow bones
I wake up
to symphonic calls
Desert birds...
I love them ALL!
SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/11/2016
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 11:03 AM UTC
Mucky self portraits of
Bacon strips,
Kraft-y singles
& expired Perrier,
reciting tales of DogMa,
tsk-ing at Eve
tsk-ing at Helen
tsk-ing at Mary
Sophia just wants to sit.
What's up, Gram-mere?
.... I'mma pun chew!
A dozen good guy Hermes and some, like, no.
This one takes shots like Jäger, ja,
this one takes shots like Manny Pacquiao, yo.
Doodling constellations and
Grandfathered teachings of How To Draw A Map -
a tangled thread of a quilt patch,
Ultimate Boon-doggle.
Wandering home in the papaya morning to catch
the light of a magnesium sky and birdsong.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
b-dumm dumm
b-dumm dumm
b-dumm dumm
b-dumm dumm tchka ta weh...
tchka tchka tchka b-dumm
dumm dumm tchka tsk dumm tchka tish
dumm dumm tchka tsk dumm tchka tash
dumm dumm tchka tsk dumm tchka dish
tsk dumm b-dumm dumm tchka dumm bash
b-dumm dumm tish tchka dumm dumm tash
b-dumm dumm tish tchka dumm dumm tash
boom boom boom tchka tchka dumm bash
dumm bash-bash, dm-bash bash, dm-bish
tchka tchka dumm dumm ting
boom boom tchka tchka dumm bash ting
shik shik shika tika tik tik ting
boom boom tchka shika boom ting bish
boom shika tchka boom bash boom ching
boom, b-dumm dumm tika tika tika ting
boom shika shika boom bish bash beng
tika tika tika dumm boom boom ting
boof.. ka tchka boom boom cha
b-boof boof ka tchka boom boom cha
boom boom ka tchka tchka boom tish
tchka tchka dumm tsk tsk (dubudu) kish
(dubudu) (dubudu) (dubudu) tish
(dubudu) (dubudu) dub dub tesh
(dubudu) (dubudu) (dubudu) tsk tchka dish
dub.. b-dub dub taka tchka ting
dub dub tchka tsk dumm tchka ting
dub dub tchka tsk dumm tchka tash
dub dub tchka tsk dumm tchka ting
dub dub dub, b-dub dub dub mmm
b-dub dub dub, b-dub dub dub mmm
b-dub dub dub, b-dub dub dub mmm
b-dub mmm dub
b-dub mmm dub
b-dub
b-dub
b-dummm
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 7:52 AM UTC
In regards to promiscuity
A man gets a cheer and a clap
While a woman gets a slap
On the wrist
And a tsk tsk
Oh the double standard
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC