Poems From the Heart...or Somewhere (Page 1)

The Spork Poem
When Ninjas Duel
Family Values
Flowery Emmotions of Darkness
Through the Eyes of a Hobo
Twilight's Moaning
Ode De Moose
Running in Circles
The Toad

Poems Page Two
Poems Page Three
Poems Page Four

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The Spork Poem
By John Lindsey 1/7/02

There is a treasure that is so fair;
A thousand times more than new underwear!
It glistens and shines in the morning sun;
Inviting all people to join in its fun.

"Now what is the name of this treasure?" you ask;
Why, it's the great spork, and it does many a task!
As an eating utensil it cannot be beat;
It is good for corn, and also for meat!

As a projectile weapon it's fast and it's fierce;
Through ten-thousand igloos it would likely pierce.
It also makes a good sword or good spear;
Imagine the pain of it poking your ear!

As a decorative necklace a spork can't be beat;
Just remove it, and use it, when it's time to eat!
This poem goes out to the greatest thing in the land;
The majestic spork... that is now in my hand.

When Ninjas Duel
By John Lindsey

Never before had I seen such a site,
As the one that took place at a ninja fight.
Stealthily hidden in trees so tall,
If they don't attack soon I fear they will fall!
They leap at each other from there on high,
Son of a gun one just got stabbed in its eye!
Ninja stars through the air are flying,
Many turtles are running and can be heard crying.
One caught a star in his Ninja nose,
He faintly replied," My goodness this blows"
The Ninjas then slashed at each other in fury,
Their sharp sticks moved so fast that my vision went blurry.
I ran from their duel yes I ran with much fear,
For I thought that the time they'd attack me was near.
I ran through the thickets and forest glades,
and past some pirates back from their long raids.
I speedily leapt over logs and fat mountain goats;
I ran past some castles and swam in their moats.
I eventually made it back to my shack,
In hopes the strong walls would keep all Ninjas back.

Family Values
By John Lindsey

A family is a splendid feature,
Although they may bite like some untamed creature.
A good family will be there in times of need;
They will run at your side with the speed of a steed.
Communication is an important factor,
Yell, "Get out of the way of my lawn mowing tractor!"
For it is unfortunate to lose an arm,
Your family needs you down on the farm.

Flowery Emmotions of Darkness
By John Lindsey

There was darkness all around;
but I could faintly see the ground.
A rose had bloomed in the darkness yonder;
and its wonderfull presance forced me to ponder
Just how it had bloomed there on the ground,
where nary a tortoise could be found.

As I thought of the rose and all it stood for,
I began to cry, an emmotional downpoor.
The rose reminded me of childhood friends,
and the memories of bowling pins.
Back into the darkness the rose was tossed,
the memories it brought up were forever lost.


Through the eyes of a Hobo

I wish I had a house;
I want to eat a mouse.
The comics section makes a good roof,
I want to brush my very last tooth.
I saw a dime on the ground today;
but as I reached for it, it rolled far away.
I wish I could purchase a bottle of liquer;
but I for one have no ID or sticker
That could prove that I am sincerely of age,
I just fixed a leak with a sports section page.
I wish that I could have eaten some lunch;
I'm in the mood for fine dining; two month old Captain Crunch
If only I could steal a fat cow,
and hoist it up on my trash fire somehow.
Then I would finely get a good meal;
almost as good as banana peel!

Twilight's Moaning

It was Halloween and the wind was chilly,
and I was a drunken fat hillbilly.
The constant moaning of goblins was scary,
it filled me with nightmares of pastwives so hairy
Then to my surprise I faintly heard,
the sound of a pirate digesting a bird.
I decided to run into the dark night,
before it could eat me in one single bite.
Not even the ghosts of ten-thousand fishes,
could stop me from running,that pirate's so vicious
I ran unil the dawn had appeared,
but tripped in a hole when my home I had neared.
Not even a spork could save me now,
For the dreaded old pirate was joined by a cow...

Ode De Moose
By: John Lindsey

It was a moose, a very big moose;
But from the zoo it did get loose.
Terrorizing Buckner day and night,
Destroying all hobos that put up a fight.
All of the wise men then had a meeting,
About how they could give this moose a good beating.
It was then decided to start moose season early;
The moose would be in his last days surely.
At least that's what the villagers thought,
But they'd never seen how an angry moose fought.
With all the rage of ten-thousand cattle,
The violent moose was preparing for battle.
Though the townsfolk used judo skills well,
By the hooves of the moose they eventually fell.
But now that this poem is drawing to its end,
You need to know just how to defend
Yourself from the onslaught of a rampaging moose
Who somehow from the zoo got loose.
You must run as fast as you can.
And hopefully the moose will be a big fan
Of attacking someone else that fled to slow
And then you'll have the time needed to go
Far away where there are no moose.
To commemorate your safety you'll then plant a Spruce.

Running in Circles
By John Lindsey (2-28-02)

Running in circles is very exiting,
Just like when several rabbits are fighting.
Rampaging dandylions are very scarey,
The bearded lady is very hairy.

Running in Circles is very grand,
It's such a bore when people just stand.
Flaming ice cubes are rarely seen,
Hair stands up well with cheap afro-sheen.

Running in circles is very awesome,
Try not to anger a grinning opposum.
A bland popsickle is very mundane,
Spork wielding hobos are way too profane.

Running in circles is groovy indeed,
I'm glad that I do not smoke the weed.
Blatent procrastination, elephant's citation;
I need a very, very long vacation...

By John Lindsey (3-31-02)

Blogging is fun, yet I do it in haste;
For I need to go back to eating tooth paste!
The cannible's tail is a mile long I've heard,
This was told to me by Bob the bird!

Don't doubt my story for I hear many voices;
They present to me several choices.
Should I eat the grapes of the tree,
Or instead step on the nose of a bee?

But grapes grow on vines you insolent twerp!
I know that you fiend, now don't make me burp!
If you darest do that I'll kick you with glee,
With the force of a rabbit upon your third knee!

And then you will cry out in a high pitched voice,
"I made fun of you, but it wasn't by choice!
The llamas within my head made me say,
That your father is flamingly gay!"

But I for one will have little pitty,
For the comment you made was not very witty.
So run in circles then fall on the ground,
And eat the strange mushrooms that you may have found!

The Toad
By John Lindsey (3-18-02)

Author's note: This is a rather strange poem that I wrote at about 5:30 AM in the morning. I will blame this poem on the wierd mood I was in that day... This poem was origionally segmented, and posted across many forums. The hyphens separate the different forum threads. I still add to this poem from time to time on other people's forums...

The Toad

Too many things rhyme with toad,
If I write them all, I may explode.
Why the heck don't I stick with frog?
Because even more words rhyme, including dog.

What the heck am I trying to say?
Elton John is flamingly gay.
I feel that this poem is getting real lame,
I need to find some body to go defame.

The frog is now upon my lap,
Taking a late evenings nap.
So into the air I throw it with much glee,
And scream in terror as it falls down on me.

This poem is very poinless I word,
What am I saying? I just saw a bird!
Insomnia is a delicate flower,
This makes no sence with its insulent power!

Radiating heat off my igloo is flying,
Alone in the dark a small toad is found crying.
Why is it crying? To it you might ask.
And it wold say nothing, in melencholy it must bask.

Is this poem still getting worse?
I once saw a grandma, holding a purse!
And out of it sprang an elephants head,
And with a peanut it was swiftly fed.

Old folks enjoy their long walks in the park,
While ninjas prefer battleing, out in the dark.
It is cold in Alaska sometimes,
Drunken hooligans perform various crimes.

I think this is the worst thing I've written,
Have you ever seen an adorable kitten?
My truck falls apart at humorous times,
I'm thinking of selling it and then buying limes.

A walrus has bitten the old rabbi's arm!
On the plains at some run down farm.
The ostriches are doing just fine,
I put a motel on top of mine.

Is this poem going to be over soon?
No I'd rather pester you, you baboon!
So sit there and eat the mushroom you found,
While building an asteroid there on the ground.

My toad is getting very angry now,
Nearly as badly as an underfed cow.
He is telling me to stop writing,
And I guess that there's no sence in fighting.

The coin in my hand...


The Coin

The coin in my hand,
is humorlessly bland.
The can in your house,
Reminds me of a mouse!
Your igloo is hairy,
and your mom is so scary.

And... That is why I'm eating peanut butter!


Peanut Butter

Why am I eating this old peanet butter?
I found the old jar in my neighbor's gutter.
I thought that it would be nice to eat,
So I just named my parakeet Pete.

Away to the south the walls shall fly,
How what who, where when and why?
I don't know why don't you ask the doctor?

Why... Why don't you ask the doctor?


The Doctor

Why don't you ask the doctor, why don't I ask the man?
Why the igloos are forming just south of Japan?
He says he doesn't know, so you ask him again,
But into your eye he shoves his ink pen!

And how do you take to the porquipine's pride?
How would any of us take to its chide?


A Clever Chide?

How do I feel about this clever chide?
I want to take a Volkswagon, and upon it ride
Into the valleys and grasslands so silly,
Then I'll sit down and Watch Free Willy.

Even though the trees are tall,
I cannot fall. No, I cannot fall!



But would you fall if the time was right?
And then who would save you from your horrid plight?
Dasher and Dancer, and Comet and Cupid,
I don't know the rest, and now I feel stupid.



They say stupid is as the stupid one does,
But the way I feel, is that that never was
A viable statement because of this paradox,
A ten foot monkey can sit on an ox!


The Ox

The ox in the box is a fox I would say,
But then I would sound extremely gay!
Almost as bad as that one guy I saw,
Who did something strange to a puppy dog's paw!



If phsycotherapy is for the weak? Then how come Batman is so timid and meek?
I don't know why the rodents are calling;
All that I see are anecdotes falling!
How can an anecdote fall? You may ask.
Why, it falls from your mouth and in it we bask!
Just like the robot that has wooden shoes,
and just like the hobos, on their good booze.
Ooga booga is there battle cry!
Ooga booga, until they all die!


Ooga Booga

Ooga Booga is the call of the wild,
yet I am so special is the cry of the child.
Who has not yet had his evening cookie,
I bet that you think that I'm going to say "dookie."
Or would I choose to say something steller?
I think there are boogy men down in my cellar.


My Cellar

My cellar is big and my cellar is dark,
In it I could fit the famed Noah's Ark.
But wouldn't some canned goods be better insted?
No! You big carrot, I may lose my head!


Lost my Mind?

People may say that I have lost my mind,
But I think that rather I've found my behind!
And out of it spews this glorious conundrum.
Yes that is right, it comes strait from my bum!
Or does it you fool!? Does it I say!?
Out in the sun the chipmunks can play!
But what about when the darkness aproaches?
Do they scurry about like an army of roaches?


Army of Roaches

It's an army of roaches, and I run with much fear!
For I hear their breathing as closer they near.
Luckily a small walnut has saved me,
And told me the message that I should give thee.
Do not go chasing the icy rain forests;
Give to the richest of all the poorest.
And all of the Eskimos will think you are depressed,
Each day before school I must get up and get dressed.
For the lone one is calling from out on the ridge,
I must go see what's kept in the fridge.


The Fridge

The fridge is so special, the fridge is so clean;
The fridge is my best friend, it is never mean.
Unless it is out of the thing known as food,
The homies all need that, down in the hood.


The Hood

The hood is real special, the hood is my friend,
The hood will still be here when it all comes to an end.
In the hood you may find a gangster,
Inside an apple, you may find a prankster.
Or will you simply fing the core?
Is this poem starting to become a bore?


A Bore?

Are you bored yet? If not go away;
It is now light outside far away.
The hobos are startled the ninjas are scared,
Because my father's alarm clock just blared.



It is time for alarm! It is now time for dispair!
That sumo wrestler just lost his underware!
Woe was upon all those that saw it,
It was far worse than when that one boxer was bit.



Boxers go boxing and punch with much force,
And hit each other in the face of course!

The face? The face... The face of course!


The Face

The face is definitly one splended feature,
I even saw one on the old Baptist Preacher!
I like the wind, and it blows with much furry.
It blows and it blows, and my vision gets blurry!

Blurry Vision

Aww... Isn't this a bit anti-clamatic?

Author's note: This next part of the poem was written on 3-30-02 on a different message board.


Everything is conveniently in place,
The bad guy is losing and got kicked in the face.
Yet just when it starts to get really fun,
The screen just goes black, with nary a pun.

The excellant plot was just getting better,
Yet the show ended, there was no Irish Setter.
The monkeys were angry at the shows sudden stop,
They hadn't even finished their fiftieth pop!

50th Pop

I have just finished my fiftieth pop,
I even dressed up as a New England cop.
Twenty-five pops was a good number to stop at,
But I had to go on or the rest would get too flat.
As flat as the old Canadian rooster,
Who recently had its vaccine and booster.
Yet not quite as flat as the anelope's arm,
But if I was lying it'd do little harm...

Do Little Harm

Please be sure that you do little harm,
To the homeys residing just outside of the farm.
The neighboring rhinos are excited yet sad,
That the flatulent homeys are heinously bad!

Heinously Bad

This poem has become heinously bad,
Wouldn't you agree, at least a tad?
The rabid zealots of the creek are happy,
Get me my boots, and make it real snappy!

Real Snappy

Really snappy are pirates' eye-patches,
I burnt down the North Pole with ten-dozen matches.
The turtles are dancing at a much faster rate,
Than I could possibly masticate!


I masticate fast, yes I chew with much speed;
Yet I could never smoke any weed.
But would I crush a cantelope's watermelon?
No I would not; it would make me a felon!


Ack! I yell at the felon angrilly;
For he stole my last blue hillbilly.
But the bat cave becons me with its shouting,
Once more I return - to it while pouting.


Pouting is fun yet it hurts people's feelings,
Even the mobsters in their various dealings.
Apple orchards are on the brink of extinction,
I studied the mothball and all its distinction.

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