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"wiggy" poems
On the frog Looking for a dog On the squizzlly wiggy at piggly wiggly
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Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 9:09 AM UTC
Playground poem
"Beep-beep. BANKERS TRUST AUTOMOBILE LOAN You'll find a banker at Bankers Trust" Advertisement in N.Y. Times When comes my second childhood, As to all men it must, I want to be a banker Like the banker at Bankers Trust. I wouldn't ask to be president Or even assistant veep, I'd only ask for a kiddie car And permission to go beep-beep. The banker at Chase Manhattan, He bids a polite Good-day; The banker at Immigrant Savings Cries Scusi! and Olé! But I'd be a sleek Ferrari Or perhaps a joggly jeep, And scooting around at Bankers Trust, Beep-beep, I'd go, beep-beep. The trolley car used to say clang-clang And the choo-choo said toot-toot, But the beep of the banker at Bankers Trust Is every bit as cute. Miaow, says the cuddly kitten, Baa, says the woolly sheep, Oink, says the piggy-wiggy, And the banker says beep-beep. So I want to play at Bankers Trust Like a hippety-hoppety bunny, And best of all, oh best of all, With really truly money. Now grown-ups dear, it's nightie-night Until my dream comes true, And I bid you a happy boop-a-doop And a big beep-beep adieu.
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4.7k
If He Were Alive Today, Mayhap, Mr. Morgan Would Sit on the Midget's Lap
In my dream, drilling into the marrow of my entire bone, my real dream, I'm walking up and down Beacon Hill searching for a street sign -- namely MERCY STREET. Not there. I try the Back Bay. Not there. Not there. And yet I know the number. 45 Mercy Street. I know the stained-glass window of the foyer, the three flights of the house with its parquet floors. I know the furniture and mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, the servants. I know the cupboard of Spode the boat of ice, solid silver, where the butter sits in neat squares like strange giant's teeth on the big mahogany table. I know it well. Not there. Where did you go? 45 Mercy Street, with great-grandmother kneeling in her whale-bone corset and praying gently but fiercely to the wash basin, at five A.M. at noon dozing in her wiggy rocker, grandfather taking a nap in the pantry, grandmother pushing the bell for the downstairs maid, and Nana rocking Mother with an oversized flower on her forehead to cover the curl of when she was good and when she was... And where she was begat and in a generation the third she will beget, me, with the stranger's seed blooming into the flower called Horrid. I walk in a yellow dress and a white pocketbook stuffed with cigarettes, enough pills, my wallet, my keys, and being twenty-eight, or is it forty-five? I walk. I walk. I hold matches at street signs for it is dark, as dark as the leathery dead and I have lost my green Ford, my house in the suburbs, two little kids ****** up like pollen by the bee in me and a husband who has wiped off his eyes in order not to see my inside out and I am walking and looking and this is no dream just my oily life where the people are alibis and the street is unfindable for an entire lifetime. Pull the shades down -- I don't care! Bolt the door, mercy, erase the number, rip down the street sign, what can it matter, what can it matter to this cheapskate who wants to own the past that went out on a dead ship and left me only with paper? Not there. I open my pocketbook, as women do, and fish swim back and forth between the dollars and the lipstick. I pick them out, one by one and throw them at the street signs, and shoot my pocketbook into the Charles River. Next I pull the dream off and slam into the cement wall of the clumsy calendar I live in, my life, and its hauled up notebooks.
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3.6k
45 Mercy Street
In my dream, drilling into the marrow of my entire bone, my real dream, I'm walking up and down Beacon Hill searching for a street sign -- namely MERCY STREET. Not there. I try the Back Bay. Not there. Not there. And yet I know the number. 45 Mercy Street. I know the stained-glass window of the foyer, the three flights of the house with its parquet floors. I know the furniture and mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, the servants. I know the cupboard of Spode the boat of ice, solid silver, where the butter sits in neat squares like strange giant's teeth on the big mahogany table. I know it well. Not there. Where did you go? 45 Mercy Street, with great-grandmother kneeling in her whale-bone corset and praying gently but fiercely to the wash basin, at five A.M. at noon dozing in her wiggy rocker, grandfather taking a nap in the pantry, grandmother pushing the bell for the downstairs maid, and Nana rocking Mother with an oversized flower on her forehead to cover the curl of when she was good and when she was... And where she was begat and in a generation the third she will beget, me, with the stranger's seed blooming into the flower called Horrid. I walk in a yellow dress and a white pocketbook stuffed with cigarettes, enough pills, my wallet, my keys, and being twenty-eight, or is it forty-five? I walk. I walk. I hold matches at street signs for it is dark, as dark as the leathery dead and I have lost my green Ford, my house in the suburbs, two little kids ****** up like pollen by the bee in me and a husband who has wiped off his eyes in order not to see my inside out and I am walking and looking and this is no dream just my oily life where the people are alibis and the street is unfindable for an entire lifetime. Pull the shades down -- I don't care! Bolt the door, mercy, erase the number, rip down the street sign, what can it matter, what can it matter to this cheapskate who wants to own the past that went out on a dead ship and left me only with paper? Not there. I open my pocketbook, as women do, and fish swim back and forth between the dollars and the lipstick. I pick them out, one by one and throw them at the street signs, and shoot my pocketbook into the Charles River. Next I pull the dream off and slam into the cement wall of the clumsy calendar I live in, my life, and its hauled up notebooks.
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95
Wiggy doesn’t mean it is a wig Just that it looks very like one; And the hairdo is so ludicrous That we can’t help making fun. You act like an adolescent Your orange hair is almost funny. You utter the most inane things Your disposition totally not sunny. Wiggy little piggy, is what you are As you ludicrously strut about. You make yourself a laughingstock From your hooves up to your snout. You spout a bunch of garbage High on the ignorance scale Like you bought it all half price At a dollar-store basement sale. Snort and wiggle, grimace and scowl It’s quite the side-show carnival show You open your mouth and let fall out Words that prove what you do not know. Grunt and wallow in your own mud Holler, howl, bellow and squeal As if the lies you are telling us all Amount to something valid and real. Wiggy little piggy, is what you are As you ludicrously strut about. You make yourself a laughingstock From your hooves up to your snout. You spout a bunch of garbage High on the ignorance scale Like you bought it all half price At a dollar-store basement sale. So far, you are making yourself Totally beloved in the Sainted South But to most of us you would look Better with an apple in your mouth. You **** and moan and pontificate And spout such bigoted wit That the best place for you is Guest of honor on a barbecue spit. Wiggy little piggy, is what you are As you ludicrously strut about. You make yourself a laughingstock From your hooves up to your snout. You spout a bunch of garbage High on the ignorance scale Like you bought it all half price At a dollar-store basement sale.
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Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 8:28 PM UTC
WIGGY LITTLE PIGGY
Wiggy doesn’t mean it is a wig Just that it looks very like one; And the hairdo is so ludicrous That we can’t help making fun. You act like an adolescent Your orange hair is almost funny. You utter the most inane things Your disposition totally not sunny. Wiggy little piggy, is what you are As you ludicrously strut about. You make yourself a laughingstock From your hooves up to your snout. You spout a bunch of garbage High on the ignorance scale Like you bought it all half price At a dollar-store basement sale. Snort and wiggle, grimace and scowl It’s quite the side-show carnival show You open your mouth and let fall out Words that prove what you do not know. Grunt and wallow in your own mud Holler, howl, bellow and squeal As if the lies you are telling us all Amount to something valid and real. Wiggy little piggy, is what you are As you ludicrously strut about. You make yourself a laughingstock From your hooves up to your snout. You spout a bunch of garbage High on the ignorance scale Like you bought it all half price At a dollar-store basement sale. So far, you are making yourself Totally beloved in the Sainted South But to most of us you would look Better with an apple in your mouth. You **** and moan and pontificate And spout such bigoted wit That the best place for you is Guest of honor on a barbecue spit. Wiggy little piggy, is what you are As you ludicrously strut about. You make yourself a laughingstock From your hooves up to your snout. You spout a bunch of garbage High on the ignorance scale Like you bought it all half price At a dollar-store basement sale.
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48
Grew up with my best friends made my own family Don't like the way things are so I change them Holes in my chucks trying to make a buck Moving forward with life no more being down on my luck Girls always hate the consequences for dating We had a thing you denied us now i moved on you cried not a lust Not sure what to say Live life no regret anyway It's over not trying to stay Small town called the crown Full of brown in this town Nonsense talk about being down Circle city formal race trace History lesson take you back in the day Hometown I grew up Heart is in to places different faces Different phases cleaned up my act
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Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 4:22 AM UTC
Wiggy
Marginal summer's leading the wiggy stream. I feel tomato juice on my skin touching the buzzing string. Impossible to the clowns of Taste, invisible to the goddess of Waste, invoked against, who are you, echoing in the rocks, calm as a heavy raindrop, too free to hurry, too loving yourself to stop? Fingers never complete the needle's path. Ice and honey; who needs the middle part?
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
Marginal Summer
Very small and eighteen years old and she's leaving me My little black and white cat Yes, its time to say good goodbye My Wiggy and I have to part I remember the time about two in the morn When her kittens were born on my lap How will I manage, what will I do I'm so going to miss Wiggy cat
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
She's Leaving Me
Piecemeal, a Coronavirus poem by Michael R. Burch And so it begins—the ending. The narrowing veins, the soft tissues rending. Your final solution is pending. (A pale Piggy-Wiggy will discount your death as no biggie.) Keywords/Tags: coronavirus, plague, Trump, final, solution, stat, statistic, number, ratings, reelection
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Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 3:53 AM UTC
Piecemeal, a Coronavirus poem
Pour me another *** with lot's of coke Woman come on dance with me make me feel one do your thing wiggy that buttie about Now I known how I feel and want to make love do you do feel the same as I do are there sparks in your head do you feel like love Come on babe tell me no **** feel the same way as I do!
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Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 7:53 PM UTC
dance with me.