Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
who would be a holy terror on social media:
snapping selfies (often lying under the table - poor thing!),
commenting on comments on comments in the public forum,
"You ignorant cockalorum...!
     pennies for your thoughts bought my ***** shots."

She'd be caustic, sarcastic, bitter,
abrasive, abusive on Twitter:
"As regards your latest verse, the previous one was worse."
"I am hosting a social soirée...I'd rather you not be there...
   Are there evenings you'll be away?
"I appreciated your latest post
  Re: animal rights to equal pay.
...My bi-racial guide dog has it hard,
    being physically challenged,
      female,
        and gay."



Okay.  We know you are liberal and politically correct.  Now unplug, put down your I-phone, get up off your *** and step away from the mirror.
Go out into the world.  March.  Volunteer. Donate food or clothing.
Help somebody for Christ's sake.  You self-obsessed narcissist.
Nicholas Fogle Jun 2015
Yes,

I got bars,
it's not about fancy cars or Lil Wayne rapping about Mars.
So far I am marred and scarred by false charm,
burned and charred that we are stuck in this dung tar.

It's about understanding we are stuck in the under standings so understand this,
can bring raze as I raise and rise to clear out these rinse and repeat Rhymes.

I don't care about the money or women.
Will your Rap make a difference.
Only a few got the conscious to talk about love.
The rest is a pile of **** I put to the side and shove.
Simple Rhyming
Ottar Apr 2015
How do you do?
I am here for you.

Simple for me to say,
I am a container of dismay

After Thursday.

What is good poetry,
what is a good poet,
(s)he is a teller of stories in verse,
s(he) makes music out of sounds,
(s)he explores tension and boundaries,
s(he) undresses your sensibilities,
(s)he has a heart tapped into broken vessels,
s(he) can cry while in the midst of a write,
(s)he writes poetry for others, almost always from the self
s(he) can write love with a thousand different metaphors,
           but chooses not so to do.
(s)he loves language, maybe more than self, has as many
      books as dust on the shelf.
s(he) is a quiet observer, with no remorse for putting into
          words what the sky says to the child, what the man
          hears from the Earth, what a woman knows about
           birth and the pains of life as well, that no man would
          survive and too the wisdom found as one walks along
          the garden path.
(s)he knows that poetry is readily available, simply by being
     vulnerable and sometimes obtuse.
Cate Dec 2014
Capture my body and a night of my life and you will have won nothing outside of my perpetually rotting shell.
My mind though-
Win my time
And you will have won everything of my spiritually nuclear substance-
You may keep all you find.

But you must leave when I say it's time.

C.e.M. 12.2.14
Rough draft
Cate Nov 2014
And it will be ok when you walk away because
Maybe that’s me
And our temperamental interaction
Was a simple distraction
And a waste of gas.
This too,
shall pass.

c.e.m.
Cate Nov 2014
Caught between the couch cushions
of earth and the abyss
what a sick twisted tryst.

whens the last time you really kissed
you know, pressed lips with a mister or a miss

Caught  in situations that have
persuaded a pulsating
aggravation

caught between the oppressive and the suggestive
childhood fades out in succession
because you are still hooked on
your old house

you are the deja vu
of what I
already do.

Excuse me to say that I am already done
I don't like to run
my knees sting from the pressure
but a lecture  
of run on sentences is longer than
a list on
some prison percentages

Caught between deranged and wanting to change
sputtering out the plague

my eyes are on fire
If I close them nothing will transpire
is that required?


Caught.
On an idea of something you are not
and I forgot.

C.e.M. 11.26.2014
this is not edited, I would seriously love some critique on this free-flow
sun stars moons Nov 2014
I think about the number of faces I see each day
and the number of faces I forget.
and the number of strangers who see my face each day
and the number of strangers who forget me.

I think about how easy it is to literally just pass by
and how many people live their lives simply
passing by one another, passing one after another
and how many people forget and how many remember.

I think about how many faces there are in this world
and how many faces I can sincerely say I know
Jaimi M Oct 2014
I can hear
my thoughts
bouncing around
my mind,
ricocheting
off of my
moments,
and critiquing
my actions.
I have never
understood
how I am so
******* myself
when the world
doesn't even seem
to notice
my biggest
mistakes.
-JRM
Grez Aug 2014
Taken a hiatus
              Unhappy with the latest              
                           Words
                   Put onto pages
         They've not been the greatest
                   Need a vacation
                  Find that part that
                             CAN
                               Be
                          Creative


        Frustratingly
                          Average
   Make them look
                           Pretty
   Hide they're not
                           Witty
Ignore they're not
                           Gritty

                         Hello Poetry
           When you hold a committee
                         To judge me
                           Take pity
                         Before you
                           Unleash
                              Your
                            Critique
          Remember I'm only running at
                          Fifty-three
                          ­  Percent
                           Capacity
                          Creatively

  I think I'm due an upgrade
      To iron out these kinks.
Plug

Me

In

To

Sleep.
Appreciate feedback
PrttyBrd May 2014
you may call it
critiquing
but you're just an *******
52914
Next page