Portis and Coco
Where the hell are my socks?
I have no more
Portis and Coco
are at it again
all are torn, I can't wear them
Portis, the pit
Coco the Shepoo
playing tug of war
with my socks
so it's back to the store
I'ts never enough
to play with a toy
they still get the joy
for some reason, to sniff with my jocks and
tear up my socks
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Related quotes
Mama Coco
Mama coco hey youre lookin heavy
Mama coco ho youre lookin good
Mama coco yes Ive been getting hungry
Mama coco feed me woman food
I dont have fancy shacks or multi-colored cadillacs
But I have three months of loneliness
So mama have a drink relax
Mama mama so glad to have you here
I love you mama coco
Mama coco such anticipation
Mama coco mam youre blowin my mind
Mama coco Im just a male caucasian
Mama coco Im virgin to your kind
Now dont get paranoid
I aint a horny little mongoloid
All I wanna have is a little bit of love and joy
Mama mama so glad to have you here
I love you mama coco
Mama mama so glad to have you here
I love you mama coco
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Laundry Spirits
Laundry spirits all around
Stealing things without a sound
When I hang my washing out
Something missing there’s no doubt
An odd sock here an odd sock there
Drives me almost to despair
I wonder if in days gone by
Did my great gran have this, if not why?
Is my washing machine possessed?
Eating socks I do not jest
Doesn’t matter where I look
There’s certainly a mysterious spook
So laundry spirit in the sky
Please give me a reason why
A pair of socks I can understand
But just for one what is your plan?
I’m buying socks that look the same
So I can make up pairs again
So I will have one fewer grey hair
And stop you driving me to despair
08 03 2009
Chellaston
poem by Jim O'Donnell
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Because my socks were wet
That day, when clouds were frowning
And the ants and the antelopes were drowning
The almighty deciding to have a bath
And the rooftops feeling the sky’s wrath
I got a bad ache in head
Allowing me to stick to my bed
When it went indispensable
I moved towards my table
Hoping to see some help
I made a small yell
Deciding by myself then to buy a tablet
But I couldn’t have my shoes because my socks were wet
Yes, that day the master of hell had a laugh
To see my condition so rough
…Because my socks were wet
Someone I had to meet the other day
The sun was shining by my bay
I ran towards the stop but was late
I had stepped into a ditch and my socks went wet
Yes the devil smirked again
As he found his ultimate gain
…because my socks were wet
Once visiting my god’s place
“Temple” they call it in general phrase
We had a long chat
Impressed by my ballad
He decided not to let me go
He contacted his biggest foe
Arrangements were made
Plans were laid
When I bid my goodbye
He smiled and just sighed
My shoes were stolen from his portal
He just wished me to be mortal
I ran, and ran in haste
It rained heavy that eve and made my run a waste
The two geniuses partied and partied till late
…because again my socks were wet
poem by Anurag Chaudhary
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I Can Feel...
she said:
'you're not a poet,
you're just an old man...
old hat, old beard,
even your socks are old! '
'yes, and my socks
are full of holes...
when i walk across
the bare floor i can feel...'
and therein lies
the poetry!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Ode to My Socks
Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder's hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as if they were two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,
Violent socks,
my feet were two fish made of wool,
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.
They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit firemen,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.
Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
keep fireflies,
as learned men collect
sacred texts,
I resisted the mad impulse to put them
in a golden cage and each day give them
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers in the jungle
who hand over the very rare green deer
to the spit and eat it with remorse,
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
the magnificent socks and then my shoes.
The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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You 'Were' Looking For Your Shoes
I can not find my socks.
Who misplaced them?
And why are they not in my sight?
'Grandpa? '
WHAT IS IT! ?
'I've spotted your socks.'
Okay.
Then where are they?
'Grandpa...
They are on your feet.'
Oh.
Well...
Who put them there?
'You did grandpa.
Just before you said,
You 'were' looking for your shoes.'
What are you trying to say?
You know where they are too?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wear My Hat
She came looking for me with her arms open wide,
Like some long lost friend of mine.
She said excuse me, but do you remember me ?
I said no, I dont believe I do
So she looked me up and down
And undressed me with her eyes,
Then she said youve got everything I need, youve got everything I want
So I said ok,
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
So her friend came up to me
With a pen and paper in her hand,
Expressing some interest in the number of my room,
She said excuse me, but do you remember me?
I said no, she said can I appeal to you?
So I looked her up and down
And realising her insinuations I blushed
She said listen babe you dont know me,
No you dont know me but you owe me,
And I love you,
Yes I love you,
Put your arms around me cos I love you,
I got all your records and I love you
So I suggested
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
Well later on that day this guy came to me
With a scrap of paper in his hand
He said hey buddy can you sign your name for me?
I said why, do I owe you money? he said no
I said listen pal do I know you? have we ever met?
Why do you want my name on this little piece of paper?
He said i love you,
I dont know you but I love you,
Like my brother I love you,
Put your arms around me cos I love you
I said hey lets not rush things
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
You can wear my hat,
You can wear my hat,
You can wear my hat,
Come on wear my hat.
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Light Shoes with Straps
In Aruba I bought a pair of sandals, with leather straps and
shiny steel buckles; I wore them with white ankle socks.
Coming home from the sea in June no one in my town had
sandals like mine. Mind, not much call for sandals in
Liverpool, winter rain, soggy streets, hailstones and so on.
When I went back to sea, I left the sandals under my bed
to wear when returning, but when I came back brother had
worn them to death, broken straps and rusty buckles.
I was very sad, but then I met a girl called Sandra and since
it was October, too cold for sandals and white ankle socks,
I got over the loss.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Politicians who wear little tennis socks with the balls at the back should not be taken seriously.
Socks, Shoes and Feet
Socks, shoes and
feet
Where they bring
me
Thou shall speak
Soul
Who are you
Who
Thou shall we
meet
I alone am
I
Alone whom else
Who
There's so many
And
There's I alone
Shall
We walk again
Socks, Shoes and
Feet
poem by Jay Reynolds
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Channel
I am Channel and you are Coco,
So i want you back to fulfil my dreams;
And together we will be called 'Coco-Channel';
For love is the key about this unity.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I have reached an age when, if someone tells me to wear socks, I don't have to.
quote by Albert Einstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ironing Out Unironed Bachelor Socks
Neanderthal, iron age unknown,
shirty single shocks,
socks, singlet, jocks,
cocks ear, rocks alone:
dreams he defrocks
maiden. Solar clocks
kneed needs, seeds sown.
Fossil secrets unlocks.
(9 June 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Walls
Im not ashamed
To say that Ive loved you well
Im not ashamed
To let you know
Im just a name thats all
Scratched upon your wall
Youve used it well but what the hell
Thats what walls are for
Im not ashamed
To listen to the fast-fallin rain
In the morning upon my window
Im not afraid to cry
Im not ashamed to try
To be your friend once again
cause thats whats friends are for
Friends are for sorting out the hang-ups that we hide
Walls are for shutting out the love we feel inside
Im not ashamed no to talk it over once again
To rearrange my vocabulary
But I cant seem to find
Any words to change your mind
Because I left them all behind
And thats what words are for
Words are for explaining the mistakes we might have made
Names are for calling when theres nothing left to say
Im not ashamed, no, to say that Ive loved you well
Im not ashamed, and yet I know
Im just a name, thats all
Scratched upon your wall
Youve used it well, but what the hell
Thats what walls are for
Im not ashamed of wearing out my old grey socks
Chasing you around the back woods
Im not ashamed to darn
Nor to proud to find some yarn
To sew them up once again
cause thats what socks are for
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Choose your friends by their character and your socks by their color. Choosing your socks by their character makes no sense, and choosing your friends by their color is unthinkable.
Coco
Beautiful coco all the hues in between…
The sun shows off your beauty…
Your smiles makes it flow…
It is you that I am respected to know…
Coco…not yet sifted…
Still smooth and mellow…
(damn so blessed)
Not yet at your best…test, test, test….
Me…pest, pest, pest…
Sweet coco smooth and mellow…
I desire to be your fellow…
Can…I fill your courage and fortitude bag…?
Is my spirit high enough…?
AM I MAN…enough…?
To handle you…that inner woman…
SELF, woman, lady, and queen…
Can…I…?
Beautiful coco and all the hues in between…
The sun shows off your beauty…
AM…I…CAN…I…?
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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Momma's Little Baby
Baby lost her button but she
found her gold
Too stressed to rest
like mothers in full moon
Has everything gone bad
or is just nothing good?
And you say, 'Oh oh oh'
'Is it all that you know? '
'Oh oh oh, ' Momma's baby
has gone to war
There are socks by your pillow
there are acrobats in your bed
Another blue orgy another long night
as long as we feel guilty
I guess it’s alright
and you say, 'Oh oh oh'
'Is it all that we know? '
'Oh oh oh, ' Momma's baby
has gone to war
I'd like to say I am
a left shouldered man
But the devil on my right
speaks my language too well
I’m spinning drunk here in my circles
seeing angels in hell
And they say, 'Momma's little baby
has gone to war'
'Oh oh oh Momma's baby
has gone to war'
Now with only good thoughts
maybe I can catch you
There are no socks by my pillow
No thoughts on my shoulders
No sex in the sheets until the war is over
and so germs are all we wanted
but I’ll take your love too
Whatever it is you want
I guess I want it too
and you, 'say Oh oh oh, '
'I barely know you ya know'
'Oh oh oh, ' Momma's baby
has gone to war
poem by Judd David
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Vegetable Man
In yellow shoes I get the blues
Though I walk the streets with my plastic feet
With my blue velvet trousers, make me feel pink
Theres a kind of stink about blue velvet trousers
In my paisley shirt I look a jerk
And my turquoise waistcoat is quite out of sight
But oh oh my haircut looks so bad
Vegetable man how are you?
So Ive changed my dear, and I find my knees,
And I covered them up with the latest cut,
And my pants and socks all point in a box,
They dont make long of my nylon socks,
The watch, black watch
My watch with a black face
And a big pin, a little hole,
And all the lot is what I got,
Its what I wear, its what you see,
It must be me, its what I am,
Vegetable man.
Ive been looking all over the place for a place for me,
But it aint anywhere, it just aint anywhere.
Vegetable man, vegetable man,
Hes the kind of person, you just gonna see him if you can,
Vegetable man.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four Minutes
Tuesday morning half past eight
that's the time that I awake
see the shadows on the wall
hear the early morning call,
Draw my breath and wipe my eyes
I'll arise at 35
the time just now is 31
tuesday morning has begun,
Think of all that I must do
the time is nearly 32
I'm going to have a busy day
tuesday mornings under way,
Sitting up I greet the dawn
and wonder where my socks have gone
the time has just left 33
tuesday morning's mad at me,
I see my socks upon the floor
the time just now is 34
tuesday morning is no more.
Written after the realization that we would only get four minutes warning of nuclear holocaust.
poem by Charles M. Moore
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Why Spread Rumours?
Why spread a rumour? what benefit do you get?
Maybe its just not having a sense of humour
Embarrassing some one is the same as embarrassing
Your self
because when the truth comes out your lies
Are crashing you down like hard rocks
no one would Want to be close to you like stinky socks
you will Find it hard to wash out that smell you have
the best way is to not wear those socks again you wanted to live
Other people in pain but look you're the one taking
Pain killers
your having headaches because of the advice your getting from people
your having stomach aches because of the shame that's failing to digestIn you stomach
So why spread a rumour?
You thought spreading a rumour would be opening up
A new box of exciting letters to read on
but look all troubles Fell on you like Pandora
you cant get your self up because You have no hand
you keep falling because there is no one you Can lean on
you cant talk because no one will listen
your head Is full of questions because your personally interviewing you self
With questions like why did I do that? What have I done?
So why spread a rumour?
poem by Atlay Mwenifumbo
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