"whopping" poems
The night-cold air embraces the soul
Drifting along, jumping over the imagination hole
Nothing seems reality. Where is the whole?
Stepping out into the bare world
Taking the melancholy along
Hovering around like an invisible bird.
Under the whopping sky
Standing in the middle of the universe
I rise my hands to pick a black rose
And let all the gleaming petals disperse.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
Whopping blue sky
Rises above my eyes
Something nostalgic
Pervades my mind
The Yellow Eye observes
And gives light in that blue
Ocean with air for its water
And flimsy clouds for its foam
Swallows one by one
Trigger through the air
Plunge into the clouds
Come out to follow the
Track to their tiny prey
So lovely are those swallows for me
The special birds with magic in the heart.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 7:27 AM UTC
- Hi, I'm calling to tell you that:
I wrote down everything you ever said to me (in the literal sense, standing stretched against my own uncultured and violently ****** vocabulary)
- And am regurgitating it back to innocent passerby - my sincerest apologies to those poor victims of circumstance, suspended in the projectile ***** of my dysfunctional disdain
(In a slew of worm guts and warm bodies, mama-bird to baby-bird saying "please don't leave the nest" - it's too hot for blankets anyways)
My original letter to you was written on the backside of an airplane **** bag, where I detailed my favorite scenes from a movie we subconsciously made entitled "Baby's First Time", while blissfully unaware of my stern faced in-flight companion.
My first draft, though, was a series of half-hearted winks and very, very drunk texts, beginning with:
SEXT: I offer my services as sacrificial ******
(and followed a whopping six months later by)
SEXT: I am still young enough to accuse you of statutory ****
(The art of seduction seems to be less of an art and more of a particular science)
You are:
- My own personal Edgar Allan Poe, just blonder and younger, with a bigger gut and a bigger ego and (alas!) a complete lack of interest in your sweet Annabel (but I could change my name)
- And oddly enough, I'm the one writing the poems here
(The whole world's a stage, with me just watching your sad indie boy band from the nosebleed seats)
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC
Times Square was once a ****** place;
You wouldn’t go alone there.
When darkness fell, you held on or
You’d lose all that you owned there.
Today, though, it’s like Disney World,
With tourists, loud and surging.
There’s not an inch of space unfilled
Since everyone’s converging:
The families from Idaho,
The hawkers giving passes,
The Elmos and the messengers,
The bused-in high school classes…
The lunch-break workers, homeless dudes,
The theater geeks and shoppers,
The food carts, cabbies and the cops
And all the teenyboppers.
I love New York; don’t get me wrong
But oftentimes I wonder
If gentrifying Broadway
Might have been a whopping blunder.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 5:59 PM UTC
I am a purveyor of sin
sins the things which define us
which mark our character
and make us human
give me your sins
your ***** little secrets
too overwhelming for many mortal ears
give me confessions of lust
and passion
and rage
and jealousy
and I will give you beautiful stories
of times when sin saved the day
gave life to the mundane
give me your lies
the whopping big ones
just know that I have built my house out of lies
and am no stranger to their seductive ways
give me your dreams which became nightmares
your shame
your darkness
give me the parts of you
most people would never see
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
Mischievous wind blows
On the sun kissed field
Graceful barley bows
To indicate its servility
Under the whopping sky.
Soon it is time for a
Masterful peasant
To humbly show its
Joy and respect
And worship the harvest.
In the sun kissed field
Under that golden shield.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
There’re words burning inside my brain—
Thoughts that are driving me insane
Words like wildfire that want to roam
And fly free like birds in the sky,
They just want to be like me
Intoxicated with hunger for things to see.
But society has built guards around my heart
A ridged fence I may not be able to break out
Because there’s always someone
Who feels offended or hurt like
They are being poked in the eyes with needles.
Nowadays, we’re living in a chaotic world
Where everyone’s so sentive to carry a weightless feather on their shoulders—
But do cry rivers like a whopping baby.
I guess like the great musician said, “ you live, you learn.”
Jobiranyc (5/14/2018)
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC
The Atomic Weight of Arrogance
Politicians, self-absorbed business tycoons
super star athletes and various other baboons
have this special quality which we all endear
thinking they are above us they make it perfectly clear
they're thoughts, needs and wants are second to none
they want these important issues known to everyone
czars, kings, dictators, potentates put them in a line
actors, music stars, the schoolyard bully even comes to mind
we have all known or seen them digitally displayed publicly
holding down with tightly clenched fist if we disagree
they have been endowed with preordained magic powers
sprinkled by their own private god's golden showers
they have always known more than mere mortal man
with more intelligence in one finger that's always been the plan
some seem confused that we don't all see them as our hero
last I checked the atomic weight of arrogance is still a whopping zero
Gomer LePoet....
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:38 AM UTC
Self care is leaving
Its leaving the boy that doesn't know how to not hurt your feelings and cannot care less that he did. It's knowing that the second you do leave so many people will look down upon you. So many disappointed in you for breaking his heart.
Self care is knowing
It's knowing that the boy that your zodiac signs match a whopping 12% with will not work. Its believing the stars and putting your faith in them since your faith does not call to god. Its hoping that the boy you match with 99% will be better.
Self care is running
Running into the new boy’s arms that you fell so endlessly for. The one that always sneaks a kiss. The one that always makes time for you even though you have one of the busiest schedules in the world.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC
The Atomic Weight of Arrogance
Politicians, self-absorbed business tycoons
super star athletes and various other baboons
have this special quality which we all endear
thinking they are above us they make it perfectly clear
they're thoughts, needs and wants are second to none
they want these important issues known to everyone
czars, kings, dictators, potentates put them in a line
actors, music stars, the schoolyard bully even comes to mind
we have all known or seen them digitally displayed publicly
holding down with tightly clenched fist if we disagree
they have been endowed with preordained magic powers
sprinkled by their own private god's golden showers
they have always known more than mere mortal man
with more intelligence in one finger that's always been the plan
some seem confused that we don't all see them as our hero
last I checked the atomic weight of arrogance is still a whopping zero
Gomer LePoet....
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
There was once a place called the UK
That voted to leave and not stay
The government lied
One great nation died
They'd thrown their whole future away
First we look at the campaign
Terrible both leave and remain
Great lies on both sides
The country divides
My goodness are we going insane?
So let us ask the population
Oh we all hate immigration
The economy's bad
We're feeling quite sad
So we'll rip a great whole in this nation
How can we make a decision
When there's clearly a deep incision
Why change all our ways
When after a couple of days
There's such a great whopping division?
We can all vote, young and old
A value we should all uphold
But it's not democratic
When the campaign's erratic
And lies are all that we're told
One thing that I find quite sinister
This new unelected Prime Minister
Equality's great
And I don't want to hate
But why is she the one to administer?
I must make it clear what I mean
Don't think what I'm saying's obscene
But you cry for democracy
Oh the hypocrisy!
Clearly you're not all that keen
And maybe we'll all be alright
It won't all change overnight
But I'm European
And if you're disagreein'
Then I swear I won't give up the fight
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 4:58 AM UTC
Harry the Hippo was a circus fave
For 15 years on the center stage.
He delighted kids young and old
Balancing ***** on his oversized nose.
Year after year
Show after show
Harry delighted
with his big, whopping nose.
No one under the big top
could have guessed
What horrible thing
Would happen next
From the front of crowd,
in a colorful seat,
A blond haired boy
tossed Harry a treat
Harry chomped it down
and continued his act,
Then
Suddenly
Harry stopped,
And fell flat on his back
Harry rolled right
Harry rolled left
then
Harry died a
Painful...
choking...
death
The Ringleader called for the hippo doc
Who told him that Harry died from
Anaphyalactic shock
Brought on by a child’s
Peanut lollipop
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
I was born premature
I came out tiny, skinny,
A whopping 3 pounds and whatever ounces
My parents told me they didn't expect me to have full use of my lungs
But I did
Premature babies don't grow very quickly in early childhood
But I don't think I ever saw that
I mean I always knew I was small
But I never realized how small
Looking back at all the pictures of me,
I was always the smallest, skinniest, and shortest kid around
The boys would scoop me up and carry me down the halls,
But not in the cute princess way
It was more of tossing around a toy
And I'd sit there kicking the hell out of them screaming to put me down
But it never occurred to me there was a reason I was so small
It was fourth grade and I weighed a whopping 47 pounds, the boys still carried me off, and I still didn't take it
Turns out, puberty wouldn't hit me like it would hit all the other girls
In fact, there wasn't even a need for my mom to have "the talk" with me
In fact, at seventh grade I didn't know what the hell a period was
I didn't even where bras.
In fact the first day of high school I wasn't wearing a bra!
And I cried the first day when I realized that holy **** everyone had bras on and I didn't even own one
And to my dismay I realized my mom had actually bought my little sister bras, but I didn't have any
And I was the point of interest at hushed family get togethers
Hearing hushed conversations like
Poor baby, it obviously won't happen any time soon
Im sure she will catch up
And I certainly didn't realize why my little sister was taller than me, bigger than me, and now curvier than me!
That was my job ******
And my favorite was when my mom introduced us to friends and they would always ask my younger sister how high school was and I would have to interrupt and say "Hi I'm the oldest actually"
I never thought it to do with the timing of my birth
But now I'm discovering that it turns out preemies are at high risk for physical developmental problems, learning disabilities (especially with math), ADHD, depression, psychosis, and anxiety in the teenage years
And much more likely if the birth weight was under 4 pounds! (Me)
But just like when I was four and the boys carried me and took turns lifting me off my feet
I won't let it stop me
I won't let it get to me
Being a preemie is tough.
Especially when you were born as early as I was, and as small as I was
I'll always look younger, I'll never look my own age, and I'll never be very curvy,
But I guess that's just something to add to the list of things that are supposed to hold me back.
I won't let them
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 2:21 AM UTC
I didn’t fall in love with his mind, or his eyes, or his voice. I fell in love
with the way he could take a common question such as “what is love?”
and give me the only answer that could
break the shackles tethering me to anyone but him.
I fell in love with the way the quizzical clouds rolled over the stormy blue skies
that held all the things I did not yet know about myself, how
with one long gaze,
he raised just as many questions as he gave me answers.
I fell in love with invisible safety he effortlessly breathed
across the ivory peaks and valleys of his mouth
and one crooked tooth on the left.
He didn’t fall in love
with my heart, or my soul, or my will. He fell in love with the way
I never questioned driving across town each day
in a gas guzzling truck that gets a whopping 17 miles to the gallon.
He fell in love with the ego boost accompanying the unceasing
words cooed in affection. He fell
in love with the strings I tied around my own wrists
when I handed him the reins.
He didn’t vanish
like I expected after the last 400 kisses and prolonged embraces.
His voice didn’t sound like a stranger’s
when he called 10 minutes later.
His presence didn’t leave my life.
It remains, popping up in unexpected flashbacks,
but his physical being left me behind,
and I could feel his body leaving mine like
a magnet resisting the separation of its companion.
His presence doesn’t leave me
raw and unable to breathe like a bare body
enduring the cold winds of a winter rain. Instead,
I am forever ****** with every “what-if”
appearing like a seemingly benign tumor, but only
I can feel the malignant pressure as I lay awake at 1 in the morning
feeling the vibrations of the violent shakes
that have so tragically married the tears he used to evoke. I am cursed
to search for the one that will outshine the bright beacon of my past,
drawing me back in like a senseless insect toward the deadly light.
He is the one that has found a home in me,
the one that time can’t erase.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
sigh a day later, when Saturday's mad pile of work was a memory, it literally tasted like water. Now, how did that happen?
(sonnet #MMMMDCXLIV)
Mists waft with curious fragrance' odd detail
Upon the creamy surface of those scents'
Brown claim of coffee in my mug, to fence
Thin hope with old chagrin as morning's pale
Light watches from its cloudy vantage' scale
Of truth, where ghostly layers shift oer pretense
And grey asks white to call it blue from thence,
My breakfast: ***** dishes 'hind th'exhale.
It's nat'nal cereal day, so in a poor
Excuse I added Malt-O-Meal to do
The favours with our wonted pancakes, fer
A whopping stack of edibles. Yes, two
Eggs, bacon, and a touch of fruit. If you're
Still hungry, there's no coffee. I love you.
07Mar15a
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 9:10 PM UTC
Today I went back to bowling after 2 weeks off and, mate I scored a beautiful 212 game in the first game with 6 strikes and the rest of the frames being spares
No open frames in my first game and the second game was lower but still a great score of 173 with 4 strikes and 3 spares and, mate that was a good score
And that is where the strikes ended for the day when I bowled my last score of 126 which was no strikes and 4 spares
A bit more dismal than the other two scores but I made a series total of 511 which is radically awesome, dudes the best series total from me since I came back to bowling this year and we are sitting on 5 th of the ladder also which is awesome
Here is a poem
Awesome day awesome day
At Belconnen bowling alley in the winter
I scored well but I dropped down
As the games went by
In the winter
I didn’t let the cold bother me
I didn’t even need a cup of tea
To warm me up yes, to warm me up
At Belconnen bowling alley in the winter
212 and 173 and 126 oh yeah
Making the series a whopping score
Of 511 oh yeah it was rad it was rad
The best score of the year
My second 200 of the year
Totally awesome no matter what you think
Yes it was an awesome day, yeah
At the bowling alley in the winter
Ooooooh yeaaaaaah
Frame by frame scores
First game
1. X. 29
2. X. 49
3. 9 /. 69
4. X. 89
5. 9 /. 106
6. 7 /. 125
7. 9 /. 143
8. 8 / 162
9. 9 /. 182
10. X X X. 212
Total. 212
Second game
1. 6 - 6
2. X. 36
3. X. 63
4. X. 81
5. 7 1. 89
6. 8 /. 108
7. 9 /. 128
8. X. 148
9. 8 /. 165
10. 7 1. 173
Total. 173
Third game
1. 8 1. 9
2. 7 2. 18
3. 6 /. 37
4. 9 /. 56
5. 9 - 65
6. 7 /. 81
7. 6 3. 90
8. 7 2. 99
9. 8 - 107
10. 6 / 9. 126
Total. 126
Series total. 511
Totally radical dude
Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 11:49 PM UTC
A hummingbird’s fragile heart can beat up to 1260 beats per minute.
That’s a whopping 21 beats per second,
Which is rather fitting,
Because my pumping ***** manically pounds against my chest at a constant rate.
It only comprehends one anxious speed: fast.
What is also fitting,
Is that hummingbirds are capable of flying in all different sporadic directions,
And I am never meant to be in one place.
We are not meant to have a standard sightseeing radius of one cul-de-sac,
But rather drift and soar to various dimensions and realities.
Without this freedom, we both simply cease to exist as an entity.
And so, when we find ourselves trapped-
Which is the one primitive and instinctual fear birds and humans alike have in common-
Desperation and panic cannot begin to describe
The depth of the dark cave of unfitting enclosure
In which our brightly vibes of body and mind find ourselves in.
We ****** and thrash ourselves in a suicidal manner against the bars,
We refuse food and drink in silent protest and rebellion,
And then beg and plead with our captors to be let free at last,
Wondering why, the hummingbird and I, deserve to suffer.
What did we do?
Claustrophobia is a serious issue. And it does not have to be in the form of a cage.
And it chokes.
Hummingbirds are delicate creatures.
If you squeeze too tightly, their eyes will bulge out of their skull,
And their heart will race to extreme measures,
Until they are crushed and are no more,
Leaving the captor’s hands wet and sopping
With blood and guts and feathers.
Please do not crush me.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
*how many times have you said
that your life is one big mess
and that the ringing in your head
tells you you're a wreck
although that thought may be true
here's some positiveness for you
take the negativity off your menu
and on this tidbit chew
keep those thoughts out of your head
although they're hungry they need not be fed
there's no need for them to spread
in the time that you have left
because if you weren't a whopping mess
how ever then would you be blessed
and in who would you find your rest
with that being said
accept that yes with great finesse
the one true God loves you no less
to him you are a beautiful mess
and he can handle it*
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
what a whopping willow
slinging sunlight
cascading off of falls
like the sea-enriched spray
of another lifeline
anchored in the crease
of a out-reached city
busting restlessly
in spite of the
whopping willow tree
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC
America
wake up
the country
is in despair
rid yourselves
of Obama
make it a quick affair
vote for good
representation
vote for the good
of the country's
well being
tick all the squares
give the opposing party
a whopping share
tis the voting season
tis a time for reason
Washington
cannot be in the hands
of Obama and his sidekicks
they've damaged
America
so dreadfully
be active at polling stations
for the betterment of the nation
show Mr Obama
that he is losing
a large proportion
of his voter share
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
I must say,
You are my best friend.
I'm alright...
Maybe not good,
but I'm surviving.
It wasn't a single thing
A defining moment where I was like
"No, I'm not okay now"
It was a cascade of moments, really.
Let's just say my
life has had its whopping ups and downs.
Well!
I'm the kind of person that falls in love really easily.
And that surely has led to a lot of heartbreak.
I don't know if you'll understand.
Do you want me to talk to you?
I think so
It's very good
Your looks certainly speak to me.
I don't really smile much.
I rather like you.
But I probably won't love you.
I'm more of a face-to-face person anyway.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 1:56 PM UTC
Love you the slightest? Love you off the scales!!! Feeling like nukes dropping and trains derailed. Like pill popping and **** inhaled. Like time stopping and towers scaled. Like the whopping beauty being all unveiled. Super intense like fifty different drugs being shoved down the throat all at once. Super serene like a beautiful view on an oceans shore, classic music on cue. Super insane, like who in their right mind would fall for a guy with half a brain devoted to **** that seems basic and plain and cant ******* flirt without a bottle of champagne and the other brains half is going through pain and my current life path has me in the wrong lane and I cant go through anything that causes major change, cause I'm a xenophobic ***** that likes to complain. Yeah, sure, everybody's got problems. Yeah, sure, there's always a way to solve em'. Yeah, sure, I look like a hobo druggy. But **** yes, I'm hella ******* lucky! I'll continue to love you off the scales while I'm slowly spilling out my entrails through lyrical stunts and poetic rhymes. I'll continue this until the end of time. <3 <3 <3
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 7:58 PM UTC
"Dad!, I have a date tonight, can I borrow a couple of bucks!" "Borrow, or have?", he always replied. After all, he and mom were the ones who were working. "Well, cars run better with gas in'em." That's the way it was for many of us back then.
On a Friday, or Saturday night, I could take my girlfriend to a movie, then to a popular teenage burger joint, meet our friends, and we would have an enjoyable evening. all for a whopping "five bucks", or less. But, it would be misleading today compared to then, and now. Today, they'd be lucky to get out under fifty.
"My, how times have changed!" Gasoline was $.25 a gallon, never to be seen again; at the grocery store, round steak was $.79 a pound, never to be seen again. That sounds like a pretty good deal.
However, salaries were also in ratio to the cost of living. As a
teenager with a part-time job, 50 cents an hour was an average rate, working as a carry-out or sacker in a grocery store. Finding a job making $1.00 an hour meant you were "coming up" in the world.
Today, making $10-$12 and hour would be like making $.50 an hour back then, with prices continuing to rise. That's progress!!
copyright: richard riddle-August 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
I'm as dope as two rappers,
Your just someone popping bubble wrappers,
Even your girl wants me to ****** her,
Coz you're living like a petty snatcher,
Rhyming fast like I'm on a chill pill,
I'm whopping your *** so you should chill, Phil,
What I'm trying to do is to demonstrate,
How would you feel aftet taking a demon's straight,
It's useless to compare a top brandy,
To the likes of you who is only brand D,
Now I'm ending you with a shampoo,
Coz you really smell shame, poo.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 4:56 AM UTC
Whenever I see a dangerous demon
I feel scared. I cry as if onion
Is being peeled or cut in union.
Same feeling in the examination
Of Maths I feel as issue in nation.
The very word takes me to the station
From where no train goes to destination.
Finger of Maths – a giant accusation
Whopping, gigantic, big adulation.
Maths – My God! A most dreadful lion;
I am afraid of it and its companion.
Let it be Savani or Goenka or Ryan
Or let be Divine or DPS, Maths demon
Will never spare us in relaxation.
The only way I feel is Meditation
Which’ll save thee from assassination.
So mediate well and study notion
Without having any denomination.
To save me from austere acidification
I wrote Monorhyme for affirmation.
I assume my readers’s ready opinion
Will not differ with my solution.
Oct 6, 2017
Oct 6, 2017 at 9:22 PM UTC