"whooping" poems
The first in over sixty years
The whooping cranes are living wild
Now one young pair has laid an egg
And, too, with luck, will raise their child
They near Kissimmee were released
Beating the odds, survived to breed
A ray of hope they might increase
And ***** the armor of human greed
But cranes need water as do we
As still we pump the wetlands dry
Our chains of lakes sprout fat resorts
The river of grass condemned to die
Yet dare we dream we might reverse
This harsh inflicted damage done
Still apathy is our nation's curse
Which battles none has ever won
Today I cheer the whooping cranes
Who still have hope that they might see
Upon some far and distant day
Their offspring's offspring flying free
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 6:00 AM UTC
The divine walkway
To the river-side
Has began to warp in
Singing and whooping with love,
But I was in the palace
To witness the examination,
See how the evening sky
Has suffered with crimson
And delight, awaiting
The gorgeous joy of the dawn,
How can the nations
Begin this monthly journey
With a broken arm?
The old gossip proclaimed that
Mother Africa caused the
*** to burst into loud wails
Early on that faithful morning,
Whiles the companions took
No pain to grace the occasion,
Oh gosh, is that the time?
Is that an absolute
Gospel of the gory spectacle?
Indeed, we need to offer
Sacrifices of praise
To propitiate the gods,
Let the gracious protocol begin!
Mothers, please cover
That beautiful black skin
With that sunblock sheabutter cream,
And cover that gracious hips
With that piece of kente cloth,
My dear, please
Taste the sacred food
And swallow the egg also,
For sitting on a golden stool
Which stands on a precious mat,
Has become good news for the ancestors,
Now perceive this,
When the moonlight slipped
Past the curled edges
Of the shades of nature, and
The children faces gleamed,
I knew I had
Fallen victim to the sensual
Lures and snares of the
Twin towers protruding
From your glorious chest,
You have indeed kindled
The eternal flame within me,
My black eternal beauty,
You are truly
A fine African woman.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
Ever felt like you had the one
for you, and
you just let her duck out?
See, I got this girl.
See, I had this girl.
See, this girl really ****** me,
see?
This girl was an island girl.
This girl ****** in torrents.
Argued in cannonball barrages.
And hugged like a linebacker.
Those island girls are thick:
all thighs,
all ***
all fire
like the volcanoes we all come from
and forget to remember.
But they remember.
And they live it.
See, this island girl, was a bigger, thicker one,
and I could throw her around any way I wanted.
And she liked it,
and I liked it,
and,
I'm telling you,
this island girl could take an ass-canning whooping
like nobody.
I mean, I'd make sure her ****** became
a bruised rose
and she felt it.
But,to talk about love,
the *** was a good thing,
but she could argue,
and I think I like that
more than I'm beginning to realize.
Just like a short poem on a ***** day.
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC
Look around,
You will find all eyes down;
some expressionless,
some desperate,
and few smiling!
Both tiny and fatty thumbs
yearning for a rest,
after typing those texts.
Some consulting the Doc
for having a smartphone thumb
and some for lacking vitamin D!
Posts wanting more and more likes.
Kilograms of followers on Instagram!
Swapping stories on Whatsapp!
Unopened notebooks
when you have a Facebook!
Television screens consigned to oblivion
when you have a Youtube!
Discovering the veiled world,
missing the real scenes around.
Emoticons spreading fake feelings,
Stupefying infants swiping through the screens,
Kids imploring to their parents-
To drag out the patterns.
What is more satisfying?
Hitting play button on the screen or
Hitting a six on the field?
Carting products online or
Shopping on a girls day out?
Dribbling a basket ball or
Dragging down the newsfeed?
Watching daily soaps without a dish or
Helping your mother out to wash the dish?
Sharing the snaps of poverty and hunger or
Reaching out to them with eager?
A game of candy crush or
Gifting a candy to your crush?
I feel like whooping out to myself
and to people around;
To raise their heads and
Look around!
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 11:22 AM UTC
I pursued my disease
With a virulent persistence
Like the plague
Or your pestilence
I fed upon your opulence
Walking red death
I marked your flesh
The whooping cough
The symptoms most forgot
Dreaming darkly
Poets cry sadly
Artists die crying
As the fever kept eating
All of their sanity
Inch by inch I crept
Awake while you slept
Burning holes in your brain
Until nothing of you remained
Just a cold cart to carry
The carrion left behind
But I still miss
That delicious mind
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 7:08 AM UTC
The **** is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter
The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The plowboy is whooping—anon-anon:
There’s joy in the mountains;
There’s life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!
3.9k
To vaccinate or not?
What about diseases we forgot?
Like Polio, T.B. or Smallpox?
Kids can't take peanuts to school, or not,
Bu they can bring Measles and Whooping Cough.
What other diseases have we forgot?
To vaccinate or not?
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
While I wasn't looking, somebody stole my soda.
I quickly learned that it was Jedi Master Yoda.
I walked over to his table and we exchanged words.
I really got mad when that dwarf flipped me a bird.
I beat the hell out of him, whooping him wasn't hard at all.
He tried to use the force but he was no match for me because he's only two feet tall.
Because of our altercation, that Jedi wound up in a lot of pain.
I kicked his green *** and that's why he has to use his cane.
He lost bladder control, the floor was covered with ***
Yoda learned that it's a very bad idea to steal from me.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
Hoyden
Perched in a tree
high aloft her mystic mountain
a hoyden sits
wrenching daisies from her hair
She cackles as they cascade
down to earth
Fluttering in a last attempt to fly
The last recognizes defeat,
alighting on the forest floor
She bursts from her throne
crashing atop the petals she’s discarded
Whooping, she stands,
brushes off her dirt covered skirt
Some day, I will be free
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC
in an ancient temple
under a taurus moon
you showed me your feathers
with pride, as if my flaming hair
could not consume them.
today you brought no water but
flew from it, you betrayed the
constellation that ascended the
horizon at the moment of your birth.
and how did you convince
a priestess of fire to offer you saline
streams amidst your drought?
it must have been aphrodite crawling
in skorpios, it must have been ****
amphetamine mania, it must have been the milky
way my owl mother raised me.
and if by chance it was your fingers commanding
chords, if it was the scar upon your
chest, if it was your moth-lust, your
keen prose, your wolven lunar howl,
then i have been stung once more while playing
in the poison. it was likely just my
horns itching for your ex's over
powdered eyes. it was probably my god of war
demanding human sacrifice.
you ill-fated soul, how you must thirst now
in glucose starved darkness. don't you know i float
freely in deep lakes beneath the caves?
don't you know a python chokes a whooping crane with pleasure?
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
I love to circumspectly stare
At your Gucci underwear
I love to rip it off once more
And see it crumpled on the floor
I love to kiss you Paris style
It makes my heart beat, oh, so wild
As I make progress toward my goal
To put some rapture in your soul
Come with me to sweet Valhalla
While you're whooping, I will holler
In that celebration glory
**** I like a red hot story
It might last a hundred years
But if we don't please have no fears
We'll stay close on our connector
Till our last drop of heaven's nectar
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 9:30 AM UTC
whoever vertigo, Go!
whoa! Oh!
whooping ping-pong
whopper perks
***** ore, or
whole hole
whodunit?
Whoville villain? (Grinch!)
whom?
whose ooze?
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
The writings on white sheets,
of paper, meander into corners of peoples troubles,
hopefully they taunt correct hemorrhages that will impulse something.
I hope that when I write some person is confused.
Or else I've created no symbolism.
Ive created nothing of worth
or
of
more than it is.
This sallow fickle body I traipse in.
It's got bones filled with osteocytic stones to shape it.
They are calcium degraded, then traded for rigid text.
This body is hard and hollow.
Like bird bones.
Like the bonds between atoms.
This sick cadaver is nothing less.
Our cells become separate selfish entities,
incapable of helping themselves.
Indigent children with no child hostels.
With no help for the homeless youth of our own corporeal phantoms.
When the Aids takes us all,
The cancer takes its toll.
When the whooping cough kills our hopes.
When we die to our dreams of home.
We die all on our own.
The skin becomes parchment.
Some day these bones can be the frame to a poem of worth.
Hung in a rich mans house.
On his wall awkward awards adorned.
Creating what I never could by a poet who was as perfect as the others.
Now the calcium lies in me,
as I lie between sheets of this meat,
of human humus before it disintegrates,
to make plants much more beautiful;
but that calcium, that carbon will make a page.
That bone will make a frame,
and my frame will stand tall like the last building left in the earth.
As there are no more humans alive to see it.
The last iris of the universe will be. A sun.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
We must live in a zoo
The way that you do
Cry Crocodile tears
Always on cue
As you Monkey around
With every guy in town
Slick as a Snake
With the decisions you make
Craning my neck
Like the tallest Giraffe
As my Elephant mind
Never forgets
And when I bring it up
Say that I've had enough
You scream in my face
Like a wild Whooping Crane
Are you serious
Says this Laughing Hyena
I can't take it no more
Like a Lion I roar
It's hard to keep up
With you Miss Cheetah
Thick skin I have grown
Like a Rhino
I'm tired of your lies
This Owl's become wise
Now that I think of it
This all seems to fit
So I'll see you later
Alligator
It's too hard to cage you
I'm outta this Zoo
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
THERE is something terrible
about a hurdy-gurdy,
a gipsy man and woman,
and a monkey in red flannel
all stopping in front of a big house
with a sign "For Rent" on the door
and the blinds hanging loose
and nobody home.
I never saw this.
I hope to God I never will.
Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo.
Hoodle-de-harr-de-hum.
Nobody home? Everybody home.
Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo.
Mamie Riley married Jimmy Higgins last night: Eddie Jones died of whooping cough: George Hacks got a job on the police force: the Rosenheims bought a brass bed: Lena Hart giggled at a jackie: a pushcart man called tomaytoes, tomaytoes.
Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo.
Hoodle-de-harr-de-hum.
Nobody home? Everybody home.
1.6k
A Dancing fever
spreads across
Deutschland from
ancient Roman City
Aachen
to far away
Madagascar where
proto-people
live, waking to morning
whooping calls
and fading habitat.
We can still find
preserved Lemurs
in Duke hospitals
and open zoo
for robust ring-tailed,
or dark cells
for the nocturnals.
Would they dance
too with us, in mass
hysteria,
irrational exuberance,
and ergot
poisoning if
only later converting
to a Science
belief-system new?
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
The danger, the thrills, the risk, the chills,
It all combines in wave riding to build
The most euphoric experience around.
It doesn't matter whether it's ten-foot or two-foot,
Nor whether I'm body surfing, bodyboarding, nor surfing - longboard or short.
Hell, even a stand-up board will do the trick... if you know how to use it.
Whatever you've got to use to gain that thrill
That comes with harnessing Mother Nature, even against her will.
Some might be snobbish and frown upon those
Who happen to ride only upon the foam,
But in actuality it doesn't really matter
So long as you're out there having fun, because in the end,
That's truly the one who wins.
And to tell you the truth, I believe that's me.
Scratch that. I know I am.
When I am out there I know I am having the most fun.
I'm whooping and hollering and exuding the raw exultation of being in the water -
Of being at harmony, of being one with Mother Nature.
That, that is what matters, and
That, that is what I embody.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
I've been given a challenge
A duel of sorts you'll see
Not over the love of a women
But over the love of poetry
Both starting off standing back to back
Walking twenty paces like gentlemen
I slowly turn, only to learn
The true power of Carl's pen
As I lay on the ground, poetic heart bleeding
It all flashes before my eyes
That is when it is I see
I've lead a typically boring life
From childhood to adulthood
Flashing by at supersonic speed
No need to slow down the reel
Not much to see that interesting
But then it all starts to sputter
Slowing to a normal pace
Stopping at the best day of my life
Which just happens to be yesterday
I woke up just like every other morning
Hosed off out front like I always do
Of course all my neighbors were out there watching
They can't seem to get enough of me in the ****
I got the paper from off of the driveway
(Still in the **** mind you)
I was already out in the sun with my moon a shinning
What else was I supposed to do
On the front page I saw the winning numbers
My treasure staring back at me
Whooping and hollering through the neighborhood
I'd just won the lottery! Maybe I should throw on some jeans...
I went straight to Tallahassee
To pick up my multi million dollar check
Spend it like there's no tomorrow
Till there is none of it left
I bought boats and planes and automobiles
Had a babe on all four arms (I even bought extra arms)
Then flash forward to today
Where it is I bought the farm
So alas my life's movie stops
To where it is I am now
Having taken up this challenge
Laying on the cold damp ground
Yes, I finally had the chance
To put my typically boring life behind
Snuffed out by the Master's pen
Left with no rhyme and dying
Thanks Carl...
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 7:44 AM UTC
Hardly Hidden
*for Helen,
the High Definition brunette momma among us*
there are tracks in your arm
ready visible
to all those
with a personal microscope
if one
optically
examines the empty spaces
tween your poem-words....
the exterior all smiles,
whooping it up,
children, all smiles,
tumbling, breaking things,
ceilings collapsing, winters arriving,
as is the way of the kids
and nature,
inexorable,
occasionally
breaking you to
smile too
Abut to all this
is the contentiousness,
the aboriginal sense of loss
for what once was,
plain out in
in the secret messages sent
and
you know
you own
my all
unuttered utter devotion
we need no qualification
of what we are
we are friends,
not drinking buddies,
the straight out
semi-secret fans
of each other
thousands of miles apart
of simple purity borne,
you warm me
with endless jokes
and familial tales
and I thank you
for sharing, for trusting,
me with that troubling notion
that I am missing
a sorrowful deepening
that is
after a wellness examination
hardly hidden
but t'is heard around the world,
gunshot to my heart,
come to me when
ever
is understood that this
paean ~ pain ~ poem
is a simple wayfarer's way
of declaring
forever
I know you are sleeping now,
but when the fall sun breaks,
here is hoping me that you
break into private tears
in private places
like the ones decorating me,
celebrating
the best of what
humans
can be
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
Sometimes my heart holds a
bubble wand and blows sternly,
pushing pops of cheer: wispy
lavender spheres, reflecting a
burgeoning sky, floating up, defy,
defy. Carried by the winds of
sighs, encouraged by the whistling
of leaves on whooping branches,
and the shrill song of grass
over a coliseum mounting in dew;
gladness freckling in the sun
and racing to have run.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
chicken pox and whooping cough
before the age of three
quick to inject but drag both feet
on alternate options to keep us clean
I've seen what doctors do
and how they've made my brother scream
just because a man wears gloves
does not mean his hands are clean
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
O what
an exhilarating
celebration
for something that meant to
happen but never did
O what
a stimulation
to the mind with blowing
solar wind
Who says that dream has to be
solid like gold with wings
Mercury, Mercury
that planet nearest to the Sun
volatile and sensitive
charged with heat
my messenger to the God
burned
Now my world is cold
full of silent sound
So gone with my opulent
submarine boat
But someone in California
is whooping it up
and living it large
His sun will always be
favorable
with those balmy breezes
Let me lament then
to my sunken submarine
My titanic pontoon
My Mercury's cavernous
moaning echoes
My love
for only in grievance
and sorrow, we suddenly
grow old and
bold
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
I'm so bipolar.
I can be happy, laughing and playing
Then one thought comes to mind
BOOM! I'm mad at the world
I'm ready to smoke and sleep my life away
Its like a part of my mind made a deal with the devil
And now I'm stuck in this mental war
Positivity and bliss against all forces of Evil
And Evil is whooping *** in here man
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
Dragging my *** to the liquor store
After midnight on a brand new Tuesday
I sort of wish
That I could sit cross-legged in a desert somewhere
With the sun ripping into me
And sweat out all the cheeseburgers I ever ate
All that yellowy cheddar would ooze out of my pores
All the slippery chunks of meat would fall off my forehead
And sizzle in the sun
Maybe all the tar from all the cigarettes would slip out too
All the whiskey would steam off into the great big blue sky
All the slaves my great great great whatevers owned would come whooping freely out of me
All the meanness and rudeness and all those little selfish thoughts would drip on out
The *** would crawl right out of my *****
And any little pieces of broken hearts would fly back to their owners
And I'd wither into a shrunken pillar of pure good
That'd be nice
A relief
But if there was a shred of me left on my bones
I'd probably just drag my *** to another liquor store
To celebrate
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 4:31 AM UTC
There's a bus with four flats in the front yard
Greyhound written on it's side
Wondering how in the world it got there
And where in the world it was I was last night
It has all of it's blinkers a flashing
With the radio blaring loud
I'm getting a tad bit worried here
As it's slowing drawing a crowd
How lucky is it that it missed
My above ground swimming pool out front
Which I know would do better in the back yard
But it was to much trouble to move all the junk
As soon as the cobwebs clear my head
And my eyes cease their interpretive dance
I do what any red blooded American citizen would
And proceed to remove all evidence
I wish it is that I could remember
What it was that had gone on
From the looks inside the greyhound
It really must have been quite fun
The night had to involve Major Rock Stars
The way inside the bus was wreaked
If I didn't know any better I'd think
That Keith Moon had come back from the dead
The back window was smashed wide open
On the ground lay a big screen T.V.
Hard to believe but it was still running
With breaking news on channel 3
There I was in all of my glory
Whooping and hollering on top of the bus
Riding through downtown with lasso in hand
Like I was a cowboy rustling up some grub
I knew it wouldn't be long now
Before the Authorities came looking for me
Even though my head was still full of mud
I had to think lighting fast on my feet
So I jumped into the drivers position
And into first gear I slammed
Drove the bus straight into the junk of the backyard
And never saw that Greyhound again
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC