DaveDon'tRave
Well-Known Forumite
lol...aight...
i'm a sucker for the straight up bramley apple.
i'm a sucker for the straight up bramley apple.
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Rather Than Twiddle Your Thumbs, Write A Poem...
- Thread starter poetsbumcheeks
- Start date
DaveDon'tRave
Well-Known Forumite
Arf arf, ive got some old uni essays, bout 3000 words. 
poetsbumcheeks
Well-Known Forumite
the young mans confidence does rather imply at least 16...
She was the frumpiest of frumps,
Her brains had once been Forest Gump's,
Her face revealed, between the lumps,
More stretch marks than Ivana Trump,s,
Her hair was rats´ tails grown in clumps,
Her legs were straight as cricket stumps,
Her breasts were Bactrian camel´s humps,
Her rump the Everest of rumps,
But, my lads, she gave free jumps!
Her brains had once been Forest Gump's,
Her face revealed, between the lumps,
More stretch marks than Ivana Trump,s,
Her hair was rats´ tails grown in clumps,
Her legs were straight as cricket stumps,
Her breasts were Bactrian camel´s humps,
Her rump the Everest of rumps,
But, my lads, she gave free jumps!
poetsbumcheeks
Well-Known Forumite
The Great Innovators
Beauty and Pain,
Walked along hand in hand,
Pain asked of Beauty;
'Who is it that understands this land?'
Beauty replied; 'My ever present friend, perhaps it would be the dying hand.'
She continued to speak;
'For whoever struggled in a quest, and those who've tried to fly,
At their behest,
Knew only to well, there own unrest,
Acquainted closely, with the struggle that never ends,
That progress is simply the 'present'
Making amends.
And fortitude, however noble,
Can never achieve a permanence of worth,
For the Heroes once were villains who walked the earth'.
Pain was most perturbed at the idea that things of worth,
Could change,
After what were ultimately just a few non-immaculate births,
And after a pause, began his next verse;
'If I am pain and suffering, and you are a Joy forever,
How come the most clever of the clever,
Are never satisfied,
Surely they can see the beauty in all of life?'
Beauty in haste retorted;
'Brother, companion, it seems you do not understand,
Perhaps in the same way that I am forever damned,
From where you stand, all above you is where the Heavens dwell,
From where I sit my brother,
All below me I see hell.
Beauty and Pain,
Walked along hand in hand,
Pain asked of Beauty;
'Who is it that understands this land?'
Beauty replied; 'My ever present friend, perhaps it would be the dying hand.'
She continued to speak;
'For whoever struggled in a quest, and those who've tried to fly,
At their behest,
Knew only to well, there own unrest,
Acquainted closely, with the struggle that never ends,
That progress is simply the 'present'
Making amends.
And fortitude, however noble,
Can never achieve a permanence of worth,
For the Heroes once were villains who walked the earth'.
Pain was most perturbed at the idea that things of worth,
Could change,
After what were ultimately just a few non-immaculate births,
And after a pause, began his next verse;
'If I am pain and suffering, and you are a Joy forever,
How come the most clever of the clever,
Are never satisfied,
Surely they can see the beauty in all of life?'
Beauty in haste retorted;
'Brother, companion, it seems you do not understand,
Perhaps in the same way that I am forever damned,
From where you stand, all above you is where the Heavens dwell,
From where I sit my brother,
All below me I see hell.
poetsbumcheeks
Well-Known Forumite
They Say…
They say you can't judge a book by it's cover,
But often it seems that it's the only way.
It's not like many people read a book,
To find out either way.
They say you can't judge a book by it's cover,
But often it seems that it's the only way.
It's not like many people read a book,
To find out either way.
poetsbumcheeks
Well-Known Forumite
The Curse
Of The Middle-Classes (Existential Angst)
There is right and there is wrong, surely that's been clear all along.
Don't ask the questions, we don't know the answers
We're simply grateful we had the better chances.
What more is there to life than getting it right?
I've got enough with my children, my money and my lovely wife.
I sympathise, I really do, with your unfortunate lot,
And the little that you've got,
But you're ghastly children, I hate them a lot.
There's so much that's unpleasant in life,
I must admit,
But most of it I'd rather, pretend it doesn't exist.
The drunkenness, the filth and the fury and all,
If that was me I'm afraid I couldn't walk tall.
Values, principles, direction and aspiration,
Democracy allowed me to find my life's vocation,
Life's not perfect I shall not lie,
But my emotions seldom get the better of me,
In fact I can't remember the last time I cried, but…
I hear the sound of the public house at closing time,
The sound of testosterone fuelled by an intoxicated mind,
Don't tell anyone please, but I tremble at the knees,
At the chaotic sounds as they shout and laugh,
It seems so alien to me I don't know what to shout back.
They talk to each other as if we were all the same,
If I walk too near they ask my name,
I pretend I'm deaf and wonder why,
They're all the same but different to 'I'.
A man must walk alone, that much I know,
With support and help and love that grows.
Life is fragile and so am I,
I must be gentle I must not lie.
It's hard to know you,
It's hard to know me,
It's even harder when my pride is only social security.
But I love what I have, and I am what I love,
It's as simple as that, I don't know much.
Of The Middle-Classes (Existential Angst)
There is right and there is wrong, surely that's been clear all along.
Don't ask the questions, we don't know the answers
We're simply grateful we had the better chances.
What more is there to life than getting it right?
I've got enough with my children, my money and my lovely wife.
I sympathise, I really do, with your unfortunate lot,
And the little that you've got,
But you're ghastly children, I hate them a lot.
There's so much that's unpleasant in life,
I must admit,
But most of it I'd rather, pretend it doesn't exist.
The drunkenness, the filth and the fury and all,
If that was me I'm afraid I couldn't walk tall.
Values, principles, direction and aspiration,
Democracy allowed me to find my life's vocation,
Life's not perfect I shall not lie,
But my emotions seldom get the better of me,
In fact I can't remember the last time I cried, but…
I hear the sound of the public house at closing time,
The sound of testosterone fuelled by an intoxicated mind,
Don't tell anyone please, but I tremble at the knees,
At the chaotic sounds as they shout and laugh,
It seems so alien to me I don't know what to shout back.
They talk to each other as if we were all the same,
If I walk too near they ask my name,
I pretend I'm deaf and wonder why,
They're all the same but different to 'I'.
A man must walk alone, that much I know,
With support and help and love that grows.
Life is fragile and so am I,
I must be gentle I must not lie.
It's hard to know you,
It's hard to know me,
It's even harder when my pride is only social security.
But I love what I have, and I am what I love,
It's as simple as that, I don't know much.
poetsbumcheeks
Well-Known Forumite
You Live You Learn.
I know you’ve met an old woman,
Who no longer wants or has plans,
Who needs to laugh,
And love,
And remember.
I know you’ve known the man,
Who tries to understand,
He does what he can,
Because he has to,
To survive.
And you’ve held the wild child,
Small and savage beast,
Sucking on a teat,
Dictating to the world,
Around them,
Unwittingly in control.
Perhaps we’ll discover
That the spirit,
Acquires wisdom,
When freed of flesh,
And gains insights so clear,
That uncover the secrets of the ocean bed,
Or the wonder of the Milky Way instead.
I know you’ve met an old woman,
Who no longer wants or has plans,
Who needs to laugh,
And love,
And remember.
I know you’ve known the man,
Who tries to understand,
He does what he can,
Because he has to,
To survive.
And you’ve held the wild child,
Small and savage beast,
Sucking on a teat,
Dictating to the world,
Around them,
Unwittingly in control.
Perhaps we’ll discover
That the spirit,
Acquires wisdom,
When freed of flesh,
And gains insights so clear,
That uncover the secrets of the ocean bed,
Or the wonder of the Milky Way instead.
Andreas Rex
Banned for smiling
He laid her on the table,
So white and clean and bare,
His forehead wet with beads of sweat,
He rubbed her here and there.
He touched her neck and felt her beast,
Then, drooling, touched her thigh.
The slit was wet and all was set,
He gave a joyous sigh.
The hole was wide...he looked inside,
All was dark and murky.
He rubbed his hands and stretched his arms..
Then stuffed the Christmas Turkey!!
So white and clean and bare,
His forehead wet with beads of sweat,
He rubbed her here and there.
He touched her neck and felt her beast,
Then, drooling, touched her thigh.
The slit was wet and all was set,
He gave a joyous sigh.
The hole was wide...he looked inside,
All was dark and murky.
He rubbed his hands and stretched his arms..
Then stuffed the Christmas Turkey!!
poetsbumcheeks
Well-Known Forumite
haha. muchacha mucho gringo nas dolios, spoon me lovos muchos win win win!!!!
poetsbumcheeks
Well-Known Forumite
THE INTOXICATED MIND.
Speak of what you are,
not of what you've become,
there's so much left to do,
so much left to be done.
When you've had your time,
read your last line,
there's still much more to say,
life is like a coal mine.
Excavate your wish,
serve up your finest dish,
the intoxicated mind,
swims like a fish.
Where street corner conversation,
rules a nation,
you are the free-est of men,
we're all in incubation.
To wait, you must wait,
to become,
'to be or not to be?'.
is always a question asked,
in a manner rhetorically.
Where regret is like a fine wine,
and a dream is manifest,
you can lay your cards out,
and finally take a rest.
Herbs, spices, variety and choice,
a recipe of fortune,
this life,
you finally found your voice.
And nothing, nothing come close,
to everything and anyone,
you choose to love,
the most.
Speak of what you are,
not of what you've become,
there's so much left to do,
so much left to be done.
When you've had your time,
read your last line,
there's still much more to say,
life is like a coal mine.
Excavate your wish,
serve up your finest dish,
the intoxicated mind,
swims like a fish.
Where street corner conversation,
rules a nation,
you are the free-est of men,
we're all in incubation.
To wait, you must wait,
to become,
'to be or not to be?'.
is always a question asked,
in a manner rhetorically.
Where regret is like a fine wine,
and a dream is manifest,
you can lay your cards out,
and finally take a rest.
Herbs, spices, variety and choice,
a recipe of fortune,
this life,
you finally found your voice.
And nothing, nothing come close,
to everything and anyone,
you choose to love,
the most.
poetsbumcheeks
Well-Known Forumite
LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL.
And life's a mess,
life could be defined,
by a state of easy unrest.
We as creatures,
speaking in terms of the collective
are rarely featured loving peace,
we know each other like we know,
our long lost niece.
There's only to time,
to catch-up,
so what does that mean?
We pass each other by,
buts that fits comfortbly.
No time to stand and stare,
no time for prolonged concern,
No time to give ourselves away,
Or share what we've learned.
The innermost thoughts,
there's comfort there,
these are the things,
we'd really like to share.
We say we live in light,
but thats why we cast a shadow,
like the cows that chew the cud,
and shit on the meadow.
But restless, and innovative,
to live is to fly,
even when you're sitting,
you're waiting to tell a lie.
To feel affection,
to show your heart,
to those that you're close to,
is to be vulnerable,
well that's a start.
And life's a mess,
life could be defined,
by a state of easy unrest.
We as creatures,
speaking in terms of the collective
are rarely featured loving peace,
we know each other like we know,
our long lost niece.
There's only to time,
to catch-up,
so what does that mean?
We pass each other by,
buts that fits comfortbly.
No time to stand and stare,
no time for prolonged concern,
No time to give ourselves away,
Or share what we've learned.
The innermost thoughts,
there's comfort there,
these are the things,
we'd really like to share.
We say we live in light,
but thats why we cast a shadow,
like the cows that chew the cud,
and shit on the meadow.
But restless, and innovative,
to live is to fly,
even when you're sitting,
you're waiting to tell a lie.
To feel affection,
to show your heart,
to those that you're close to,
is to be vulnerable,
well that's a start.
DaveDon'tRave
Well-Known Forumite
Learn to Try, Learn to Lie.
You’ll speak and be heard,
But rarely listened to,
Your words will be judged,
Your actions more so,
But you’ll never be understood.
You can try too hard,
To impress your masters,
Earn respect, contempt or affection,
Maybe status, money or love
But you’ll never be understood.
The painting on your wall,
That speaks to you,
About life as you know it,
In the mind of another,
A different voice,
Becomes nothing that’s true.
A joke, cracked in another’s company,
Can sound like life expressed,
With a smile and wink,
But to someone else who thinks,
It could be rude, crude or ridiculous,
You’ll never be understood.
If we were made in God’s image,
An image is it all is,
Image is constructed,
From two dimensions,
Nurtured even,
But man was made,
With too many to mention.
So who would want to be really understood?
When love is a lie,
Of patience, togetherness and compromise,
That’s why keep our selves to our selves,
It’s all for the good,
We just learn to pretend,
That we feel understood.
You’ll speak and be heard,
But rarely listened to,
Your words will be judged,
Your actions more so,
But you’ll never be understood.
You can try too hard,
To impress your masters,
Earn respect, contempt or affection,
Maybe status, money or love
But you’ll never be understood.
The painting on your wall,
That speaks to you,
About life as you know it,
In the mind of another,
A different voice,
Becomes nothing that’s true.
A joke, cracked in another’s company,
Can sound like life expressed,
With a smile and wink,
But to someone else who thinks,
It could be rude, crude or ridiculous,
You’ll never be understood.
If we were made in God’s image,
An image is it all is,
Image is constructed,
From two dimensions,
Nurtured even,
But man was made,
With too many to mention.
So who would want to be really understood?
When love is a lie,
Of patience, togetherness and compromise,
That’s why keep our selves to our selves,
It’s all for the good,
We just learn to pretend,
That we feel understood.