Intense Poem
by
Michael Gettings
Fire
Electricity
Pain
Love
All of these things are intense
But then again
So are chili-dogs
If you really think about it
Or salt and vinegar chips
Even though I don't eat them
I think they taste gross
Maybe I just don't like intense things
Shitty Poem With Made Up Words
By
Shitty Poet that Makes Up Words
Michael Gettings
Oh, inflarious tune
That pounds my skull
Into a finder powder mesh
Of powder bone skull
Sulk in the horizon
Watch the frambulant sun set
And think about the stoney
Stonie stones of the past
For once the stroms are thrumed
You will find practice in peace
And versimillitude
In peace
I Suck At Poems
A Poem
By Michael Gettings
I suck at poetry
Throw the words in an oven
Half the time
They don't even rhyme
Except for right there
But I can't rhyme "There" with anything
That I can think of.
I suck at poetry
Because I suck at love
And love sucks at me
But not in the way that is good
In the way that is bad
Very bad
Cause you could get, like, a hickey
And hickeys are Bad News Bears
I suck at poetry
Because "meter" and "time"
Are foreign words
What punctuation?
Where does it go?
If you ask me,
I might as well punch you
Because you've missed the point
I suck at poetry
And also humor
If you've read this far
I'm sorry
Because one other thing I suck at
Is
Endings
The Waiting Room
It’s white, but not quite bleak
An interesting perspective, yet not without hope
Watching the door, sitting in the lone chair
There’s not much to do, but sit and wait
The exit door is far on the left
The same door you came in
But the door you want to go through
Is shut, and you just stare
The clock hands tick (for there is a clock now)
But time doesn’t really seem to matter
Indomitable hope dwelling inside
But all you can do is sit and wait
As the hour grows late, you begin to sweat
A grand opportunity all hinges on the moment
And outside, the day passes, the leaves fall
But if you go, you might miss it.
The sun sets on the day, but the room remains white
You can’t leave yet; the night is still young
You get comfortable in the chair, look at the clock
The numbers are the same.
Make a wish?
Two hours pass and you’re dozing off
But just as you finally reach sleep
The door opens
Your stomach knots
The woman stares at you
And offers a kind smile
You smile back
But the sucker punch hits
“We can’t see you today.”
Theatre
You don't look at her from across the room
You look at her sitting next to you
And you don't think about how nice she looks
You tell her
Except for her pigtails
She doesn't smile from across the room
She smiles sitting next to you
And she doesn't think about how good you look
Because she doesn't like that shirt
Except, maybe a little
There's a play on stage, it might be funny
But you're not paying much attention
The real star of the night is sitting next to you
And you tell her that
And she just goes, "Shut up."
But doesn't mean it, because...
She smiles.
The leading man might be on stage for everyone
Except her, because she's only seeing you
Right next to her
And she tells you that
And you smile, and shove her a little,
But then laugh and say, "I'm sorry."
But you're not.
The light is on stage
But the light is in her eyes
And you don't need to say a word
Because it is in yours, too
The doorbell goes off in the play
But you don't hear it
Your heart is beating so fast, it's pumping air
And that's all you hear
But don't worry:
Hers is too.
The play is over, and the cast bows.
You would applaud
She would applaud
But you each have a hand
In each others hand
And that is better than applause.
The theatre empties
But you can't move
Frozen in the moment?
Let's not be cliched.
Frozen...
With her.
There's no one left
And she's not moving.
Frozen in the moment?
An overused device...
Frozen...
With him.
Together.
Rise of the Minkzles
It was the Second of May in Twenty o' Three,
And the children were playing, so happy with glee,
And the gimwats and frozangs that made them all smile,
Were powered by Minkzles and had been for a while.
The Minkzles were flangered in tiny small cages,
And inside the Minkzles grew tiny small rages.
Timmy and Tammy were curious tots,
And wondered just what made their Ginyer-bot-bot,
So they took off the floodle and to their surprise,
Was a tiny little Minkzle, with love in it's eyes!
Timmy sighed and Tammy smiled,
They had been waiting for this a whole long while!
A pet for them to love and cherish,
Surely this Minkzle would never perish,
They cracked the cage with arms wipe open,
And took up the Minkzle, for they were hopin'
That the Minkzle would love them, and surely it would,
Because the Minkzle looked happy, and it probably could
Learn to love them as dear old friends,
Love them until the very end...
But Timmy and Tammy didn't realize,
That the Minkzle knew not love, his friendly face but a guise,
With his sharp Minkzle claws that were free in the air,
The Minkzle fwapped them into Tammy's hair.
She screamed so loud that the windows did bust,
And in blew glass-shards with a mighty big gust,
And Timmy stood rooted, and try as he might,
He just couldn't move, his muscles bound tight.
Tammy grinked to the ground, like a sack of bricks,
The thudding sound, might this do the trick
To get Timmy moving? It surely was not...
And soon he was dead too, next to the Ginyer-bot-bot.
The Minkzle dinged up the stairs, to the toyroom he ran.
To the back with the toychests! This Minkzle had a plan,
To free ever Minkzle that powered the toys,
and then, they too, could grinkle the girls and boys!
And this, boys and girls, is how it came to pass,
That in Twenty o' Four, not a lad nor a lass,
Stood breathing at home, for they were all dead!
Moms and dads were gone too, their gramblers stained red,
And not a person was left (lest they be a binkle!)
So started the reign, the reign of the Minkzle.
The Smiling Behemoth
There's glass in my gums
And a stone on my back
It's the first piece of
A larger piece that I
Was moving for the masses.
My lungs are half full
There's sweat on my brow
My blisters are bleeding
And the blisters that reside
On my blisters are bleeding.
The people clap and smile
As I shift the rock over
And in my shoes stained red
My socks are stained red
But my shoes shine white.
I go back for another slab
Of this mountain which I had
Promised to move for them
My muscles ache and my throat
Is raw, but my voice still booms
And while I create this,
Piece by painful piece,
You all smile, and you all leave
Done with it, done with him
And I am left with no one
They clap and they cheer
They're happy to hear
What a marvelous thing
That I've done...
But I stand alone, in my shoes
My shoes stained red, alone
In my socks stained red, alone
With my arms dead, alone
My lungs swimming,
My throat torn
But I look fine, and no one
Not even you will ask me why.
They Don't Eat Dots
by
Michael Gettings
They don't eat dots
Chew chew chew
Chew too much
You chew chew
Because they rumble
Smack the lips
Chew chew chew
Feed to dog for
Feed to dog for
Chew chew chew
Hilarious
Chew chew
Results
Chew
-
Mal
by
Michael Gettings
Fire
Electricity
Pain
Love
All of these things are intense
But then again
So are chili-dogs
If you really think about it
Or salt and vinegar chips
Even though I don't eat them
I think they taste gross
Maybe I just don't like intense things
Shitty Poem With Made Up Words
By
Shitty Poet that Makes Up Words
Michael Gettings
Oh, inflarious tune
That pounds my skull
Into a finder powder mesh
Of powder bone skull
Sulk in the horizon
Watch the frambulant sun set
And think about the stoney
Stonie stones of the past
For once the stroms are thrumed
You will find practice in peace
And versimillitude
In peace
I Suck At Poems
A Poem
By Michael Gettings
I suck at poetry
Throw the words in an oven
Half the time
They don't even rhyme
Except for right there
But I can't rhyme "There" with anything
That I can think of.
I suck at poetry
Because I suck at love
And love sucks at me
But not in the way that is good
In the way that is bad
Very bad
Cause you could get, like, a hickey
And hickeys are Bad News Bears
I suck at poetry
Because "meter" and "time"
Are foreign words
What punctuation?
Where does it go?
If you ask me,
I might as well punch you
Because you've missed the point
I suck at poetry
And also humor
If you've read this far
I'm sorry
Because one other thing I suck at
Is
Endings
The Waiting Room
It’s white, but not quite bleak
An interesting perspective, yet not without hope
Watching the door, sitting in the lone chair
There’s not much to do, but sit and wait
The exit door is far on the left
The same door you came in
But the door you want to go through
Is shut, and you just stare
The clock hands tick (for there is a clock now)
But time doesn’t really seem to matter
Indomitable hope dwelling inside
But all you can do is sit and wait
As the hour grows late, you begin to sweat
A grand opportunity all hinges on the moment
And outside, the day passes, the leaves fall
But if you go, you might miss it.
The sun sets on the day, but the room remains white
You can’t leave yet; the night is still young
You get comfortable in the chair, look at the clock
The numbers are the same.
Make a wish?
Two hours pass and you’re dozing off
But just as you finally reach sleep
The door opens
Your stomach knots
The woman stares at you
And offers a kind smile
You smile back
But the sucker punch hits
“We can’t see you today.”
Theatre
You don't look at her from across the room
You look at her sitting next to you
And you don't think about how nice she looks
You tell her
Except for her pigtails
She doesn't smile from across the room
She smiles sitting next to you
And she doesn't think about how good you look
Because she doesn't like that shirt
Except, maybe a little
There's a play on stage, it might be funny
But you're not paying much attention
The real star of the night is sitting next to you
And you tell her that
And she just goes, "Shut up."
But doesn't mean it, because...
She smiles.
The leading man might be on stage for everyone
Except her, because she's only seeing you
Right next to her
And she tells you that
And you smile, and shove her a little,
But then laugh and say, "I'm sorry."
But you're not.
The light is on stage
But the light is in her eyes
And you don't need to say a word
Because it is in yours, too
The doorbell goes off in the play
But you don't hear it
Your heart is beating so fast, it's pumping air
And that's all you hear
But don't worry:
Hers is too.
The play is over, and the cast bows.
You would applaud
She would applaud
But you each have a hand
In each others hand
And that is better than applause.
The theatre empties
But you can't move
Frozen in the moment?
Let's not be cliched.
Frozen...
With her.
There's no one left
And she's not moving.
Frozen in the moment?
An overused device...
Frozen...
With him.
Together.
Rise of the Minkzles
It was the Second of May in Twenty o' Three,
And the children were playing, so happy with glee,
And the gimwats and frozangs that made them all smile,
Were powered by Minkzles and had been for a while.
The Minkzles were flangered in tiny small cages,
And inside the Minkzles grew tiny small rages.
Timmy and Tammy were curious tots,
And wondered just what made their Ginyer-bot-bot,
So they took off the floodle and to their surprise,
Was a tiny little Minkzle, with love in it's eyes!
Timmy sighed and Tammy smiled,
They had been waiting for this a whole long while!
A pet for them to love and cherish,
Surely this Minkzle would never perish,
They cracked the cage with arms wipe open,
And took up the Minkzle, for they were hopin'
That the Minkzle would love them, and surely it would,
Because the Minkzle looked happy, and it probably could
Learn to love them as dear old friends,
Love them until the very end...
But Timmy and Tammy didn't realize,
That the Minkzle knew not love, his friendly face but a guise,
With his sharp Minkzle claws that were free in the air,
The Minkzle fwapped them into Tammy's hair.
She screamed so loud that the windows did bust,
And in blew glass-shards with a mighty big gust,
And Timmy stood rooted, and try as he might,
He just couldn't move, his muscles bound tight.
Tammy grinked to the ground, like a sack of bricks,
The thudding sound, might this do the trick
To get Timmy moving? It surely was not...
And soon he was dead too, next to the Ginyer-bot-bot.
The Minkzle dinged up the stairs, to the toyroom he ran.
To the back with the toychests! This Minkzle had a plan,
To free ever Minkzle that powered the toys,
and then, they too, could grinkle the girls and boys!
And this, boys and girls, is how it came to pass,
That in Twenty o' Four, not a lad nor a lass,
Stood breathing at home, for they were all dead!
Moms and dads were gone too, their gramblers stained red,
And not a person was left (lest they be a binkle!)
So started the reign, the reign of the Minkzle.
The Smiling Behemoth
There's glass in my gums
And a stone on my back
It's the first piece of
A larger piece that I
Was moving for the masses.
My lungs are half full
There's sweat on my brow
My blisters are bleeding
And the blisters that reside
On my blisters are bleeding.
The people clap and smile
As I shift the rock over
And in my shoes stained red
My socks are stained red
But my shoes shine white.
I go back for another slab
Of this mountain which I had
Promised to move for them
My muscles ache and my throat
Is raw, but my voice still booms
And while I create this,
Piece by painful piece,
You all smile, and you all leave
Done with it, done with him
And I am left with no one
They clap and they cheer
They're happy to hear
What a marvelous thing
That I've done...
But I stand alone, in my shoes
My shoes stained red, alone
In my socks stained red, alone
With my arms dead, alone
My lungs swimming,
My throat torn
But I look fine, and no one
Not even you will ask me why.
They Don't Eat Dots
by
Michael Gettings
They don't eat dots
Chew chew chew
Chew too much
You chew chew
Because they rumble
Smack the lips
Chew chew chew
Feed to dog for
Feed to dog for
Chew chew chew
Hilarious
Chew chew
Results
Chew
-
Mal
Comment