"wheelie" poems
Reassured by your passion forget all the strife.
Pick up your board and skate away life.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
I appreciate now, I'm getting old
It's not just me, I have been told,
It isn't discovering your first grey ****
Buying wrinkle cream or using ****
A simple thought came to me, its true,
My back goes out more, than I now do!
Even my wheelie bins, I think,
Go out each and every week,
I used to party night and day,
But now by 10, I've hit the hay,
The hardest thing, makes my skin crawl,
I no longer fall over, I ' have a fall '
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
The earth is slowly dying
To save it we have to try,
We need a solution to
Deal with polution
But it's too big a problem
We sigh,
So if we all join together
Everyone woman, child and man
Recycle our tins
In green wheelie bins
And we'll save the world
Yes we can.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 5:07 AM UTC
I used to believe in good old days,
Still concerned about the little ways.
To get back in my childhood era.
Those uncountable acquaintances,
Now they are just faded faces.
Buzzing around oftentimes,
I do look at them with all my gracious Rhymes.
Those long sandwalks, I heard many voices & those preacher talks.
Standing on the top of a pile,
I saw the world with my pure human eyes.
My incapability of not performing as others,
Don’t forget we came from different mothers.
Though the course may be disturbingly fascinating,
Spot you there at the end of the lives you kept devastating.
I walked clean and I did no mean.
There was nothing to fear, but one day someone molested me who was so near.
Crippled inside myself that night,
Was so devastated couldn’t spoke a word inspite.
Moments still glare, dig in your knife so that you can pare.
Shadows no more controls me,
I fiercely play with them, and still move freely.
Enjoyed every bit just like my first bicycle wheelie.
I did both,from playing with slum folks to slept like a sloth.
Now I miss my never ending era.
Entered my puberty,
with little bit of curiosity
To not to have those thoughts control authority.
I was wild, a state called child.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
they always seem to ascribe the stone age
with inventing the circle,
dinosaurs and the loathing of
x-ray via Archaeology -
ᛟ, or an ancient egyptian manuscript...
got the ******* wheelie on that ***** boo yah!
this is even weirder than Wittgenstein's observation
of late Copernicus... ᛟ-ray... huh?
you've been a peasant and you're still
curating a chance sharpening edit?
where's the ******* wheel with romans after
ancient egyptians and the babylonians
and for fuck's sake Hindustan!
O... where's O in Sanskrit? so who got the cartwheels?
the romans? huh?! a.d. b.c. buttered-up ****
if this makes sense... forget the universe,
alien civilisations... my own makes as much sense
as a gram of pepper and salt sneezed with.
hey flamingo! here's a signature in sepia!
banging on the bathroom floor - with Disney - passed
in those days: Lion Kong or King...
oompa loompa ooh ooh gorilla tyrant said so too.
they invented the wheel but forgot to phonetically
encode it with something similar...
runes, right, Scandinavian... ᛟ... i.e. O...
but i'd like to see ᛟ in a roller-coaster... just for gorging
on a regurgitation of jokes - and so i can
slang and slapper quick a blah in Jamaican slang
and say... yah mon' poo daddy do a diddy eff a flex
wit bling bling, cursor vector to noon
and da dwarfin of a shadow.
**** man, they invented the wheel but waited for the
romans to write the O... and it was music by then...
suddenly! huh?! the **** is this? whiskey straight up.
no wonder.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 7:14 PM UTC
Stroke me until I purr.
The heady wine has killed my inhibition.
Wrap my legs around your steel,
And ride freely down the strip.
I feel your power vibrate through my being.
Two wheels, two brakes and multiple gears.
Pop the clutch and feel me rise up off the ground.
Pop a wheelie and then crash back into you.
Steadily cruise through the valley of lust,
The rumble of our pleasures roaring through the night air.
Black marks on the pavement are all that remain.
We were here once, before the rain rolled in.
12/27/2015
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 11:20 PM UTC
Glass is everywhere.
The empty road; between shrubs
And upturned wheelie bins.
It's in your hair, like dust
That sparkles slightly amidst the auburn highlights
And the blood from a **** above your
Left ear.
You can't hear so well,
All is ringing, squealing, high
And resonant above the sirens
And screams, the shop-keepers
Cursing the Gods, the
Church bells from another world
Calling out for dawn.
Oh! Take us away.
From these rivers of black,
These haggard drapes of
Bright lights and broken
Panes. This carpet
Made from discarded electrical goods,
Shoe boxes, wine bottles, and
Ash.
Who are they to do this?
To lay claim to all we have,
To lay waste to that
Which came before?
No fury from foreign lands, nor
Raging strife by nature's hands,
Has ever done what has been done.
The rain doesn't come;
Our summer is finally here,
And the skies are clear.
No clouds in sight, save for
Rolling colossi of acrid smoke. Flames
Pointing accusing fingers at an uncaring sky,
As England burns.
Aug 10, 2011
Aug 10, 2011 at 8:36 PM UTC
At the crack of dawn the rusted screen door hinges squealed;
he placed his hands on the push handles,
and shifted his weight forward.
Front wheels, up!
The bare rear-wheel rims scarred the mahogany threshold,
and the seat cushion squeaked a little louder
under her almost-dead weight.
*Cusco! *******
Like every other morning for the last thirteen years
the old retriever gave him a blank stare,
its glass eye bleedin’ blue.
Hold on, Edna.
They made a quick one-eighty ‘round the dog’s empty food bowl,
avoided one of the craters in the floorboards,
and came to a halt on the landing.
We’re almost there, dear.
Edna did her morning wheelie down the porch steps.
The liver spots on her hands seemed larger
in the early morning rays.
Here we go, Edna!
The wheels sank away and whispered over the lawn;
the birds stopped chirping as if they listened,
and the river birch waved good mornin’.
Almost there, now.
They passed the birch and pulled up under the apricot tree;
the blossoms’ shadows danced her to sleep,
and her oxygen tank hissed blue ******
There, there, darling.
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 5:18 AM UTC
He promised me an everlasting love,
And a life full of dreams and wishes,
Instead I've got a load of washing,
And a sink full of ***** dishes,
He promised me a romantic dinner,
New dress and my hair in wisps,
Instead I've got me jarmie's on,
With a can and cheese and onion crisps,
He promised me a dozen roses,
And choccie's in a box,
Instead it's a bunch of daffodils,
And a pair of Simpsons socks,
He promised me a lovely house,
With sweeping gardens serene,
Instead I've got a council flat,
But my wheelie bins are green,
He promised me a spa weekend,
His time in me invested,
We ended up in the local pub,
At the end of the night, arrested,
But after all is said and done,
Were stuck together like glue,
We haven't got material things,
But the love we have is true.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
Click
Paris Hilton and her views on homosexual men
Click
Lady Gaga and how she gained 25 pounds so now she has to go on a diet
Click
Rookie outfielder fireballs a man out at home plate from deep center
Click
The deathtoll in the Middle East is on a perpetual rise
Click
"Have you ever ****** for money?"
Click
A kitten flounders around on a carpet while a baby watches, points and laughs
Click
A boy on bicycle does a wheelie and falls backward, blood spewing everywhere
Click
"I'm Mitt Romney and I endorse this message."
Click
The far reaches of the universe are estimated to be... beyond human comprehension
Click
Morbidly obese men chugging three forty ounces of beer, one after the other, and are paid for their views by Google
Click
"You will never know the truth."
Click
"The meaning of life is to simply live."
Click
Click here to find out how YOU can make $800 without leaving your house in just one day!
Click
"Spread your *** because that's what you're here for."
Click
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
Everything is an echo through the alleyway street in mid-afternoon
Children scream from some far away park
Dishes clatter and smash in a house, of which I do not see
Dogs bark, gravel pit succumbs
Bass raptures that rupture the ear drums of the passenger
Tyre skid, rows of flower pots damaged
Growling, forever growling the beasts on bikes
Clatter the gates, what matters these days?
ssffffFFFFAAARRRRUMPH!
Triumph race the boys in pretty cars
Coughing kids and the coffee drop pits
rup rup rowww rupp!
Tip tapping of heels on paving slabs
Most are broken and make a click clack noise
Children running, dud dud dud dud duddudududud
Careless rain lost in the crest of a cliff face
"AH O DA DOOOR!"
"NAHHH EE DID DOE"
And spluttering engines revving on tarmac-
"MUMMMEH MUMMEH MUUUUUU-"
The revving begins again, the noise never ceases
Low rumble of the wheelie bin on crooked slabs
Smell the rain as it sets and laundry as its removed from lonely lines
Hissing cars in the ******* rain
Hear music, its life's music, every word a jumble in a proletariat (e)state
In a brief moment of silence there's an ethereal chill as a shrill cry from miles away resonates to me and my tapping on the keys are deadened by the accumulative sound of reactionary ghosts.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
Stack the ***** with cream and a cherry
plop it out to the nearest plate
Santa's late and he'd better be merry
is that him swinging on the garden gate?
He had dropped his sack on the path
and he had carrots stuck in his beard
He's been sick as a dog and needed a bath
and that sight will be very weird.
He was as drunk as can be and singing loud
Rudolph didn't seem that impressed.
Well his washing antics worried the crowd
but it was funny watching him get dressed.
He wore a pink nightie which Rudolph found
He could hear a stifled giggle behind his back
Then he had put his belt on the wrong way round
and was hunting for his boots in his sack.
The bells chimed twelve times, he was in panic mode
Steadily he climbed aboard the sleigh
Fumbling about he typed in his magic code
which sent the reindeer zooming on their way.
His stomach, well that was doing somersaults freely
The air was passing through him like a bullet
He appeared to be doing a never-ending wheelie
which was playing havoc with his gullet.
Up came his lunch splattering all over Dancer
The back lash of that was they came to a halt
By which time the mess was on Prancer
And they all knew it was Santa's fault.
Ding **** ding **** was heard in Santa's head
It was if he was cursed with magic spells
His head was spinning as the reindeer sped
Merrily on high true, he was cursed by bells.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
did you lose even a single night of sleep, the days i was tucked safely back at home with my mother?
was i anything more than an after-thought once you stopped seeing me?
a problem to be dealt with only once you were faced with it once again
did you ever miss me? or if not me, then the freedom to lay hands without repercussions?
did you think yourself an artist, with hands designed to create?
did you think because you made me that i was yours to hate?
when you streaked my canvas black and blue, did your reflection hurt or couldn't you look?
i bet you could, i bet you never had a second thought, i know you never had the capacity to feel or say sorry
your water colours hurt less than your acrylics, let me tell you this
i could wash away your water-blues with time and little white capsules
your acrylics took so much longer to dry, their consistency so much greater
their texture so much thicker, and stickier, and prone to staining
if they touched their fingers to the palettes you tucked away inside my brain, they'd come away covered
with hurt and guilt and shame, all these doubts and questions
purple, red and black and grey
did you dip your brush into that innocent creature's blood? the one you had me chuck
straight into the wheelie bin like you could so easily discard the lives you took?
if i'm shaking as i write this down, it's only because i remember that day with a clarity that scorns
my Achilles' heel is shovels, pellet guns and alcohol
i hope one day your bullets ricochet and when you treat your wounds you drown instead
red wine's no good for healing, anyway
but then i've never tried it, so what would i know? i'm different from you in every blessed way
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
Let me try again
Try to explain
Just how I feel for you
In sickness and in pain
In wellness and in health
With fat or with a belt
Being sound, an able mind
or just too crazy to unwind
But, this thing happens every time
I look at you and hear this chime
It's like a carnival with all the rides
And cotton candy stacked so high
The colored lights and happy faces
When your presence gives me graces
Cartwheels and somersaults
And big pink bunnies that you win
It's like a wheelie over wheelbarrows
That I never want to end
A tumble-set 'til summer sets
Then somersets again
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
shattering walls with great
say it from your chest waves
of vocal vibrations
vibrating down the handle
of aluminum baseball bats
which bounce uselessly off the brick wall
walled in the school building
building up little Timmy's confidence
confident that he will do what they want
wanting to see what's over the hill
hills which rocks only make half way up
downtown a young girl does a wheelie on a bicycle
riding around in circles
"Mommy You're not watching"
so mommy's not watching
the box cutters
and matches
and we make one **** of a mess
messed up on the couch
holding barely to consciousness
conscious of the fact
that it's the combination
of **** and alcohol
that's making the room spin like this
swallow a cup of fire
fire the demons from out the mouth
for each stream of *****
forgotten about
and we'll be happy
when you're happy
to let us be
something but happy
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 9:02 AM UTC
little freddie fox he came out at night
roaming round the city looking for a bite
a tasty little snack from a wheelie bin
any where at all he would just climb in
climbing over walls gave him such delight
roaming in the shadows hidden out of sight
digging under fences to other side
through an open window he would gently slide
always on the prowl looking for a bite
a little urban bandit this creature of the night
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
concrete castles, brick battlements,
chimneys billowing black smoke.
sky, leaden and forever dull;
this is the city of the guls.
perched upon red brick walls
and slated rooftops
they unleash their cries of battle
and dive, strafing as they fly;
gutting wheelie-bins, squabbling
over human trash and muck.
this is treasure to the guls,
their feathers diseased and their
necks sporting plastic trophies.
they ****** from grubby human hands
and swallow all they can;
their gullets hold no guilt or shame
for the human filth called 'man.'
the guls know their city: every cranny
and every nook. they have always ruled
from their royal perches:
ruthless, ***** and proud. they look
upon human men with beady eyes
as they leave humble offerings,
and they cackle
chorusing with their high-pitched
squawks. for humans are
mere pests
among those mighty guls.
Mar 27, 2020
Mar 27, 2020 at 6:54 AM UTC
I see behind the wheelie bins
that they've dropped a little parcel
It's only slightly soggy
and the label looks still legible
I can see it's not for me
(they should really be more careful)
So I drop it in the bin
that's marked only for recycle.
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 5:54 AM UTC
On my way back from checking-out the smokers' hang-out I passed behind the oyster bar near the grunting port, dodged a traffic warden sporting an illuminated hard-on and carrying an old bag of Napier's bones
Clearly an urban fox thought I until he did the wheelie-bin by the church with a one-two, shuffle, feint, one-two and a worthy one-two too, Who-what? You what? Done what? By whom and with what? Beside, by, from or to.
Prejudices rearranged? he asked producing a large wasp and a small tuba from his inside hat pocket and blowing ancient Aramaic **** against a bus shelter until 'it' threatened to rain. Fifty quid, fixed penalty, a producer? **** off. OK and he did.
Is it recycling day? Is this the day? Double yellow mate, work it out for yourself. Clamp or tow, clamp or tow. These are the choices of the voices in the head of a fox in the know. Turn out the illuminations, turn up the incantations, no more ruminations - root out the creeping infestation with a Round-Up-Ready (TM) altercation.
Two minutes to Tango, two for a fiver, this tall to ride, slip inside and pitch a Force Ten and wait for the chicken coop and the soft fox lips to meet again in a kaleidoscope shower of cheerleader's tail feathers and scarlet sherbert dips.
Phone home on Napier's dog and bone, watch out for the crock oyster and if you feel like one slipped down despite precautions, get back to the bar and order double portions.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:59 AM UTC
my landlord he dont care is houses are disgrace
the one he rents to me as damp in every place
he wont do repairs tho he says he will
he is full of promise repairs need doing still
then he sends his cowboys who turn up on a horse
he just takes his rent showing no remorse
they make the problems worse than they were before
collects rent four weekly counts at the door.
all the roofs are leaking gutters not fixed right
wont get the problems fixed he is far to tight
dosent care at all the money coming in
rather live outside in a wheelie bin
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
My heart's been busy busy,
Dizzy, fizzy, silly,
Buzz buzz here comes those bees,
Wheelie, feelies, kissies.
Aug 27, 2020
Aug 27, 2020 at 11:17 PM UTC
my landlord he dont care his houses are disgrace
the one he rents to me has damp in every place
he wont do repairs tho he says he will
he his full of promise repairs need doing still
then he sends his cowboys who turn up on a horse
he just takes the rent showing no remorse
they make the problem worse than they were before
collects rent every month counts it at the door
all the roofs are leaking gutters not fixed right
wont get the problems fixed he his far to tight
dosent care at all the money coming in
rather live outside in a wheelie bin
got the landlord blues he just dosent care
gonna paint the wheelie moving into there
where there is no damp and its landlord free
in my plastic house home sweet home to me
(use this as chorus)
no more cowboy builders who havent got a clue
how to do repairs dont know what to do
no more monthly rent from a landlord thats
from hell in my wheelie bin from now on i will dwell
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC