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Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Donald Trump Limericks IV



The Hair Flap
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

The hair flap was truly a scare:
Trump’s bald as a billiard back there!
The whole nation laughed
At the state of his graft;
Now the man’s wigging out, so beware!



Stumped and Stomped by Trump
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a candidate, Trump,
whose message rang clear at the stump:
"Vote for me, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,
because I am ME,
and everyone else is a chump!"



Toupée or Not Toupée, That is the Question
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a brash billionaire
who couldn't afford decent hair.
Vexed voters agreed:
"We're a nation in need!"
But toupée the price, do we dare?



Toupée or Not Toupée, This is the Answer
by Michael R. Burch

Oh crap, we elected Trump prez!
Now he's Simon: we must do what he sez!
For if anyone thinks
And says his "plan" stinks,
He'll wig out 'neath that weird orange fez!



White as a Sheet
by Michael R. Burch

Donald Trump had a real Twitter Scare
then rushed off to fret, vent and share:
“How dare Bernie quote
what I just said and wrote?
Like Megyn he’s mean, cruel, unfair!”



Humpty Trumpty
by Michael R. Burch

Humpty Trumpty called for a wall.
Trumpty Dumpty had a great fall.
Now all the Grand Wizards
and Faux PR men
Can never put Trumpty together again.



Viral Donald (I)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump is coronaviral:
his brain's in a downward spiral.
His pale nimbus of hair
proves there's nothing up there
but an empty skull, fluff and denial.



Viral Donald (II)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Why didn't Herr Trump, the POTUS,
protect us from the Coronavirus?
That weird orange corona of hair's an alarm:
Trump is the Virus in Human Form!



No Star
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump, you're no "star."
Putin made you an American Czar.
Now, if we continue down this dark path you've chosen,
pretty soon we'll all be wearing lederhosen.



How the Fourth ***** Ramped Up
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump prepped his pale Deplorables:
"You're such easy marks and scorables!
So now when I bray
click your heels and obey,
and I'll soon promote you to Horribles!"



The Ex-Prez Sez

The prez should be above the law, he sez,
even though he’s no longer prez.
—Michael R. Burch



Trump Dump
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a con man named Trump
who just loved to take dumps at the stump.
“What use is the truth?”
he cried, with real ruth,
“Just come kiss my fat orange ****!”



Limerick-Ode to a Much-Eaten A$$
by Michael R. Burch

There wonst wus a president, Trump,
whose greatest a$$ (et) wus his ****.
It wus padded ’n’ shiny,
that great orange hiney,
but to drain it we’d need a sump pump!

Interpretation: In this alleged "ode" a southern member of the Trump cult complains that Trump's a$$ produces so much ***** matter that his legions of a$$-kissers can't hope to drain it and need mechanical a$$-istance!



Stumped and Stomped by Trump
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a candidate, Trump,
whose message rang clear at the stump:
"Vote for me, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,
because I am ME,
and everyone else is a chump!"



Raw Spewage (I)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
is a chump
who talks through his ****;
he's a political sump pump!



Raw Spewage (II)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
is a chump
who talks through his ****;
he's a garbage dump
in need of a sump pump!


Keywords/Tags: Trump limerick, Trump limericks, limerick, nonsense, light, verse, humor, humorous, donald, trump, president, ignoramus, *****, imbecile, conman, fraud, liar, shill, criminal, huckster, snake oil salesman, Twitter, tweet, tweety



OTHER TRUMP LIMERICKS, POEMS AND EPIGRAMS



Poets laud Justice’s
high principles.
Trump just gropes
her raw genitals.
—Michael R. Burch



Dark Shroud, Silver Lining
by Michael R. Burch

Trump cares so little for the silly pests
who rise to swarm his rallies that he jests:
“The silver lining of this dark corona
is that I’m not obliged to touch the fauna!”



Zip It
by Michael R. Burch

Trump pulled a cute stunt,
wore his pants back-to-front,
and now he’s the **** of bald jokes:
“Is he coming, or going?”
“Eeek! His diaper is showing!”
But it’s all much ado, says Snopes.



There once was a senator, Cruz,
whose whole life was one pus-oozing schmooze.
When Trump called his wife ugly,
Cruz brown-nosed him smugly,
then went on a sweet Cancun cruise.
—Michael R. Burch aka “The Loyal Opposition”



Mini-Ode to a Quickly Shrinking American Icon
by Michael R. Burch

Rudy, Rudy,
strange and colludy,
how does your pardon grow?
“With demons like hell’s
and progress like snails’
and criminals all in a row!”



Christmas is Coming
alternate lyrics by Michael R. Burch

Christmas is coming; Trump’s goose is getting plucked.
Please put the Ukraine in his pocketbook.
If you haven’t got the Ukraine, some bartered Kurds will do.
But if you’re short on blackmail, well, the yoke’s on you!

Christmas is coming and Rudy can’t make bail.
Please send LARGE donations, or the Cause may fail.
If you haven’t got a billion, five hundred mil will do.
But if you’re short on cash, the LASH will fall on you!



Fake News, Probably
by Michael R. Burch

The elusive Orange-Tufted Fitz-Gibbon is the rarest of creatures—rarer by far than Sasquatch and the Abominable Snowman (although they are very similar in temperament and destructive capabilities). While the common gibbon is not all that uncommon, the orange-tufted genus has been found less frequently in the fossil record than hobbits and unicorns. The Fitz-Gibbon sub-genus is all the more remarkable because it apparently believes itself to be human, and royalty, no less! Now there are rumors—admittedly hard to believe—that an Orange-Tufted Fitz-Gibbon resides in the White House and has been spotted playing with the nuclear codes while chattering incessantly about attacking China, Mexico, Iran and North Korea. We find it very hard to credit such reports. Surely American voters would not elect an ape with self-destructive tendencies president!

Keywords/Tags: Trump, Donald Trump, poems, epigrams, quotes, quotations, Rudy Giuliani, Ted Cruz, Cancun, Christmas



Trump Limericks aka Slimericks



The Nazis now think things’re grand.
The KKK’s hirin’ a band.
Putin’s computin’
Less Ukrainian shootin’.
They’re hootin’ ’cause Trump’s win is planned.
—Michael R. Burch



Trump comes with a few grotesque catches:
He likes to ***** unoffered snatches;
He loves to ICE kids;
His brain’s on the skids;
And then there’s the coups the fiend hatches.
—Michael R. Burch



Trump’s Saddest Tweet to Date
by Michael R. Burch

I’ve gotten all out of kilter.
My erstwhile yuge tool is a wilter!
I now sleep in bed.
Few hairs on my head.
Inhibitions? I now have no filter!



the best of all possible whirls, for MAGA
by Michael R. Burch

ive made a mistake or two.
okay, maybe quite more than a few:
mistakes by the millions,
the billions and zillions,
but remember: ur LORD made u!

where were u when HEE passed out brains?
or did u politely abstain?
u call GAUD “infallible”
when HEE made u so gullible
u cant come inside when Trump reigns.



Mercedes Benz
by Michael R. Burch

I'd like to do a song of great social and political import. It goes like this:

Oh Donnie, won't you lend me your Mercedes Benz?
My friends ***** in Porsches, I must make amends!
Like you, I f-cked my partners and now have no friends.
So, Donnie won't you sell me your Mercedes Benz?

Oh Donnie, won't you rent me your **** import?
You need to pay your lawyers: a **** for a tort!
I’ll await her delivery each day until three.
And Donnie, please throw in Ivanka for free!

Oh, Donnie won't you buy me a night on the town?
I'm counting on you, Don, so don't let me down!
Oh, prove you're a ******* and bring them around.
Oh, Donnie won't you buy me a night on the town?

Oh Donnie, won't you lend me your Mercedes Benz?
My friends ***** in Porsches, I must make amends!
Like you, I f-cked my partners and now have no friends.
So, Donnie won't you sell me your Mercedes Benz?


Ode to a Pismire
by Michael R. Burch

Drumpf is a *****:
his hair’s in a Fritz.
Drumpf is a missy:
he won’t drink Schlitz.
Drumpf’s cobra-hissy
though he lives in the Ritz.
Drumpf is so pissy
his diaper’s the Shitz.



The Ballade of Large Marge Greene
by Michael R. Burch

Marge
is large
and in charge,
like a barge.

Yes, our Marge
is quite large,
like a hefty surcharge.

Like a sarge,
say LaFarge,
apt to over-enlarge
creating dissent before the final discharge.


Trump Limericks aka Slimericks

The Nazis now think things’re grand.
The KKK’s hirin’ a band.
Putin’s computin’
Less Ukrainian shootin’.
They’re hootin’ ’cause Trump’s win is planned.
—Michael R. Burch

Trump comes with a few grotesque catches:
He likes to ***** unoffered snatches;
He loves to ICE kids;
His brain’s on the skids;
And then there’s the coups the fiend hatches.
—Michael R. Burch



Trump’s Saddest Tweet to Date
by Michael R. Burch

I’ve gotten all out of kilter.
My erstwhile yuge tool is a wilter!
I now sleep in bed.
Few hairs on my head.
Inhibitions? I now have no filter!



the best of all possible whirls, for MAGA
by Michael R. Burch

ive made a mistake or two.
okay, maybe quite more than a few:
mistakes by the millions,
the billions and zillions,
but remember: ur LORD made u!

where were u when HEE passed out brains?
or did u politely abstain?
u call GAUD “infallible”
when HEE made u so gullible
u cant come inside when Trump reigns.



My Sin-cere Endorsement of a Trump Cultist
by Michael R. Burch

If you choose to be an idiot, who can prevent you?
If you love to do evil, why then, by all means,
go serve the con who sent you!



Bird’s Eye View
Michael R. Burch

So many fantasical inventions,
but what are man’s intentions?
I don’t trust their scooty cars.
And what about their plans for Mars?

Their landfills’ high retentions?
The dodos they fail to mention?
I don’t trust Trump’s “clean coal” cars,
and what the hell are his plans for Mars?



Untitled

Don't disturb him in his inner sanctum
Or he’ll have another Trumper Tantrum.
—Michael R. Burch

It turns out the term was prophetic, since "conservatives" now serve a con. — Michael R. Burch

To live among you — ah! — as among vipers, coldblooded creatures not knowing right from wrong, adoring Trump, hissing and spitting venom.

Trump rhymes with chump
grump
frump
lifelong slump
illogical jump
garbage dump
sewage clump
sump pump
*******
cancerous lump
malignant bump
unpleasingly plump
slovenly schlump
yuge enormous diaper-clad ****
and someone we voters are going to thump and whump
—Michael R. Burch



Putin's Lootin's
by Michael R. Burch

They’re dropping like flies:
Putin’s “allies.”

Ah, but who gets their funny
money?

Two birds with one stone:
no dissent, buy a drone.

For tyrants the darkest day’s sunny!



Preempted
by Michael R. Burch

Friends, I admit that I’m often tempted
to say what I think about Trump,
but all such thought’s been preempted
by the sight of that Yuge Orange ****!



Mate Check
by Michael R. Burch

The editorial board of the Washington Post is “very worried that American women don’t want to marry Trump supporters.”

Supporting Trump puts a crimp in dating
(not to mention mating).

So, ***** dudes, if you’d like to bed
intelligent gals, and possibly wed,

it’s time to jettison that red MAGA cap
and tweet “farewell” to an orange sap.



Squid on the Skids
by Michael R. Burch

Sidney Powell howled in 2020:
“The Kraken will roar through the land of plenty!”

But she recalled the Terror in 2023
with a slippery, slimy, squid-like plea.



The Kraken Cracked
by Michael R. Burch

She’s singing like a canary.
Who says krakens are scary?

Squidney said the election was hacked,
but when all her lies were unpacked,
the crackpot kraken cracked.

Now, with a shrill, high-pitched squeal,
The kraken has cut a deal.

Oh, tell it with jubilation:
the kraken is on probation!



Trump’s Retribution Resolution
by Michael R. Burch

My New Year’s resolution?
I require your money and votes,
for you are my retribution.

May I offer you dark-skinned scapegoats
and bigger and deeper moats
as part of my sweet resolution?

Please consider a YUGE contribution,
a mountain of lovely C-notes,
for you are my retribution.

Revenge is our only solution,
since my critics are weasels and stoats.
Come, second my sweet resolution!

The New Year’s no time for dilution
of the anger of victimized GOATs,
when you are my retribution.

Forget the ****** Constitution!
To dictators “ideals” are footnotes.
My New Year’s resolution?
You are my retribution.



Two Trump Truisms
by Michael R. Burch
When Trump’s the culprit everyone’s a “snitch.”
It ain’t a “witch hunt” when the perp’s a witch.



Horrid Porridge
by Michael R. Burch

My apologies to porridge for this unfortunate association with an unwholesome human being.

Why is Trump orange,
like porridge
(though not some we’re likely to forage)?
The gods of yore
knew long before
Trump was born, to a life of deplorage,
that his face must conform
to the uniform
he’d wear for his prison decorage!


Dictionary Definition of Trump
by Michael R. Burch

Trump is a chump;
he’s the freep of a frump;
he’s an orange-skinned Grinch and, much worse, he’s a Grump!;
he’s a creep; he’s a Sheik (sans harem); a skunk!;
“**** the veep!” he’s a murderous coup d’tot-er in a slump;
“Drain the swamps, then refill them with my crocodilian donors!”;
Trump is a ****** with insufficient ******;
Trump is, as he predicted, a constitutional crisis;
Trump is our non-so-sweet American vanilla ISIS;
Trump is a thief who will bring the world to grief;
Trump is a whiner and our Pleader-in-Chief.



Triple Trump
by Michael R. Burch

No one ever ******* a Trump like Trump.
He turned Mar-a-Lago into a dump
and spewed filth at the stump
like a sump pump
while looking like a moulting Orange Hefalump!
Trump made the Grinch seem like just another Grump
by giving darker Whos a “get lost” lump.
No colored child was spared from his Neanderthalic thump.
Trump gave fascists a fist-bump,
consulted **** servers for an info-dump
and invited Russian agents for a late-night ****.
Don the Con con-sidered laws a speed bump,
fired anyone who ever tried to be an ump,
and gave every evil known to man a quantum jump.
You may think he’s just plump
and a chump,
with the style of a frump,
the posture of a shlump,
his brain in a slump,
and perhaps too inclined for a ****-star ****,
while being deprived by his parents of a necessary whump ...
but when it comes to political *****, Trump is the ****!

#TRUMP #DONTHECON #MRBTRUMP #MRBDONTHECON #MRBPOEMS

Keywords/Tags: light verse, nonsense verse, doggerel, limerick, humor, humorous verse, light poetry, *****, salacious, ribald, risque, naughty, ****, spicy, adult, nature, politics, religion, science, relationships


Scratch-n-Sniff
by Michael R. Burch

The world’s first antinatalist limerick?

Life comes with a terrible catch:
It’s like starting a fire with a match.
Though the flames may delight
In the dark of the night,
In the end what remains from the scratch?



Time Out!
by Michael R. Burch

Time is at war with my body!
am i Time’s most diligent hobby?
for there’s never Time out
from my low-t and gout
and my once-brilliant mind has grown stodgy!



Waiting Game
by Michael R. Burch

Nothing much to live for,
yet no good reason to die:
life became
a waiting game...
Rain from a clear blue sky.



*******' Ripples
by Michael R. Burch

Men are scared of *******:
that’s why they can’t be seen.
For if they were,
we’d go to war
as in the days of Troy, I ween.



Devil’s Wheel
by Michael R. Burch

A billion men saw your pink ******.
What will the pard say to you, Sundays?
Yes, your ******* were cute,
but the shocked Devil, mute,
now worries about reckless fundies.



A ***** Goes ****
by Michael R. Burch

She wore near-invisible *******
and, my, she looked good in her scanties!
But the real nudists claimed
she was “over-framed.”
Now she’s bare-assed and shocking her aunties!



MVP!
by Michael R. Burch

Will Ohtani hit 65 homers,
win the Cy Young by striking out Gomers,
make it cute and okay
to write KKK
while inspiring rhyme-challenged poemers?

Will Ohtani hit 65homers,
win the Cy Young by striking out Gomers,
prove the nemesis
of white supremacists
while inspiring rhyme-challenged poemers?

Will Ohtani hit 65 homers,
win the Cy Young by striking out Gomers,
cause supremacists
to cease and desist
while inspiring rhyme-challenged poemers?

Keywords/Tags: limerick, limericks, double limerick, triple limerick, humor, light verse, nonsense verse, doggerel, humor, humorous verse, light poetry, *****, ribald, irreverent, funny, satire, satirical


OTHER LIMERICKS AND POEMS



Red State Reject
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

I once was a pessimist
but now I’m more optimistic,
ever since I discovered my fears
were unsupported by any statistic.



The Red State Reaction
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Where the hell are they hidin’
Sleepy Joe Biden?

And how the hell can the bleep
Do so much, IN HIS SLEEP?



Mating Calls, or, Purdy Please!
Limericks by Michael R. Burch

1.
Nine-thirty? Feeling flirty (and, indeed, a trifle *****),
I decided to ring prudish Eleanor Purdy ...
When I rang her to bang her,
it seems my words stang her!
She hung up the phone, so I banged off, alone.

2.
Still dreaming to hold something skirty,
I once again rang our reclusive Miss Purdy.
She sounded unhappy,
called me “daffy” and “sappy,”
and that was before the gal heard me!

3.
It was early A.M., ’bout two-thirty,
when again I enquired with the regal Miss Purdy.
With a voice full of hate,
she thundered, “It’s LATE!”
Was I, perhaps, over-wordy?

4.
At 3:42, I was feeling blue,
and so I dialed up Miss You-Know-Who,
thinking to bed her
and quite possibly wed her,
but she summoned the cops; now my bail is due!

5.
It was probably close to four-thirty
the last time I called the miserly Purdy.
Although I’m her boarder,
the restraining order
freezes all assets of that virginity hoarder!

Keywords/Tags: limerick, limericks, nonsense verse, humor, humorous, light verse, mating calls, *****, prudish, lonely, loneliness, longing, America



Animal Limericks

Dot Spotted
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a leopardess, Dot,
who indignantly answered: "I'll not!
The gents are impressed
with the way that I'm dressed.
I wouldn't change even one spot."



Stage Craft-y
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a dromedary
who befriended a crafty canary.
Budgie said, "You can't sing,
but now, here's the thing—
just think of the tunes you can carry! "



Honeymoon Not-So-Sweet, or, Clyde Lied!
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a mockingbird, Clyde,
who bragged of his prowess, but lied.
To his new wife he sighed,
"When again, gentle bride? "
"Nevermore! " bright-eyed Raven replied.



The Mallard
by Michael R. Burch

The mallard is a fellow
whose lips are long and yellow
with which he, honking, kisses
his *****, boisterous mistress:
my pond’s their loud bordello!



The Platypus
by Michael R. Burch

The platypus, myopic,
is ungainly, not ******.
His feet for bed
are over-webbed,
and what of his proboscis?

The platypus, though, is eager
although his means are meager.
His sight is poor;
perhaps he’ll score
with a passing duck or ******.



The Better Man
by Michael R. Burch
 
Dear Ed: I don't understand why
you will publish this other guy—
when I'm brilliant, devoted,
one hell of a poet!
Yet you publish Anonymous. Fie!

Fie! A pox on your head if you favor
this poet who's dubious, unsavor
y, inconsistent in texts,
no address (I checked!) :
since he's plagiarized Unknown, I'll wager!



"Of Tetley's and V-2's" or "Why Not to Bomb the Brits"
by Michael R. Burch

The English are very hospitable,
but tea-less, alas, they grow pitiable...
or pitiless, rather,
and quite in a lather!
O bother, they're more than formidable.
cv Apr 2015
it's almost two in the morning.
i toss and turn,
roll around--
nothing.

sighing, i sit up,
and think to myself,
"This hasn't happened in a while."

my mind automatically goes back to that time,
when i was younger,
and our family went to the capital.
slept in some fancy hotel
with some fancy people
with their fancy clothes.

on the second night we stayed there,
i couldn't get a wink of sleep.
i don't know whether if it was because of exhaustion
or something else.

naturally,
the next morning was hell.
i was pissy and bored
as we waited for father in the lobby.
i couldn't take a nap in public because, well,
i had my pride, of course!

chewing a gum quite aggressively,
i observed my surroundings.
my gaze hopped from one person to another.
a royal from a country i haven't even heard of.
an important figure in politics.
a celebrity.
a kid.

white blonde hair?

i haven't seen hair of that shade.
it was quite unnatural here.
i whipped my head to the left and saw
two beautiful people.

the taller was around my age.
he had the same mop of hair as the kid i saw (the shorter).
the child, on the other hand,
was most probably no older than six.
they were both awesome.

the light glowed on their figures,
and it looked like they were godsend.

i haven't seen anything more beautiful.

and who knew that who knows how many years later,
i would find myself looking back on that vivid memory.

as if it had happened yesterday.

(i feel like i'm still stuck in that time.)
to those boys i still see so clearly in my memories despite my short-term memory loss problem.


(no seriously haha i may literally forget, so i wrote it down. kinda rambled huh. it became a monster on its own. sighs. i think they were albinoes? idk, i was and still am an ignorant kid. sorry not sorry.)
kas k Aug 2012
Panic,
placed on the splintered edge of a dreaming mind,
I spit and sputtered, like the dying wings of
a dragonfly on a cold cappuccino morning.

She called me in the dark moody blue hue of early morning
as if to steal the broken moon from the attic in  my chest.
So early I could hear the creak of spider legs
inching for a place of warmth.

Still in dream logic,  she was crying so quietly
Melted spoons for a brain, I could only hear
the groans and pains of
the pet spiders on my ceiling,
their  so cute and pissy in the morning.

She muffled "I need help"
I snapped awake as if a reflex to fight a charging train wreck.
This time advice came direct from my dream landscape the truth served dark black
and without the vanilla flavor.
I focus and get in gear "Hey girlie I am here, whats going on?"
An  hour goes by a like a cat sneeze on a stormy day.


Again she laughs if I could see her, her smile would be wide tired and tear stained.
I laugh  with her, while aching at the corner of my eyes " well hey try that tomorrow and if it doesn't work we can brainstorm to try something else. Call me tomorrow my sleepiness is welting  my consciousness, I am not much use now except maybe for some mad hatter talk." A pause  she sighs as if pushing of sleep. I wanted just one more smile to be sure" Stand strong if you can survive this hit the sky will clear for you. We'll strangle the rainmaker if we have to"

parting jokes and the call the ends, my moon back in my chest
content spiders basking  in rays of light I can almost hear the hum of the morning sun.

I smile fading with the ceiling tucking me in, I can see her curled up with her stuffed animals half crying half terrified she falls to sleep drooling on her long time best friend
Mr finkers.

and
Finally the purr of happy spiders lulls be back to sleep.
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Soulfulbubbles/1004055/
There is a difference between
pissy

and hot tempered

Pissy is
when someone says something,
says anything
they go off on a rant
cowardice, cravenness,
never ****** to your face
or rarely
because drama
good God, drama
Pissy is the bee sting
harmless but painful
nothing, something you can brush off
Pissy.

Hot tempered is
a chin turned up
a challenge to fight
say most things,
and they're just fine
but cross a line
and come out swinging
hot tempered is a boxer
in the corner ready for you
fighting for honor and the sort of hot blood
that only warriors can have
Rudo Jun 10
Even though they control my *****,

claim over my lootie,

and they attempt to gaslight my sovereign multifrequency

I haven’t forgotten I am a certified Duesy!

You’re bumming off me, little mousie.

Even if you thought I was a loosy,

I adore my *****.

I mean just look at the way it oozes,

sweet nectar that makes you goosey!

I’m too busy

keeping you alive from my *****.

Orgasming at light speed to my divine presence, to behold you’d require a diamond koozie.

Call yourself a flouzy

for not respecting this sequency.

If you truly had one too, you’d understand why I am reclaiming my dignity.

They want to own what they do not revere in secrecy.

I can’t be bothered to slow down for you to drain my juicy.

I am too in love with my *****.

They try very hard to downplay my power, so sussy.

Bow down or drown in this *****!

Ordained into structured flowies,

life is mine, fulfillment With me can be so easy.

But if you’re not with this *****,

don’t get too close you Will get dizzy!



So much life is brewing inside my *****.

It’s ironic, all these dictators came through my *****.

My lips spit you out even though you pretend to be so bossy.

True Power can’t be manipulated you fool, I’d be triggered too if my mind was that lousy!

Are you put off yet, *****?

Awww, don’t be so fussy!

Thaw that heart out it’s too icy.

GET OUT of my *****,

go elsewhere to be pissy!

Just not on my planet crazy,

you’re on your last mercy!
I'm not stupid
So don't treat me like I am
Did you ever take into consideration that
Maybe I'm in this class again because
I want to see how much I can improve
See how high I can shoot
Not because I need to be

"You're just full of **** and hate"
Well you're full of... Finish the sentence
"I'm talking this slow so you can understand me"
I'm not a 5 year old
Yeah I admit I can be pissy
But I'm a girl
It's what we do
I don't need you
To spoon feed me
And wipe my *** for me
I can do things myself
So please
Leave me alone
Last time I checked
I didn't ask you for your help

Never underestimate me
Never doubt me
And Never Ever
Call me stupid again
Ston Poet Dec 2015
We gone (live life up2)...(we gone live it up2)..(Live it up2)...we gone (live life up2)..We gone (live it up,2) We gone live life Yeah, we gone live life up, we gone live life Yeah, (we gone live it up2)..live it up..we gone (live life Yeah2)..(live it up2)..Aye, (we gone live life up3)..***** we gone live it up, Yeah ***** we gone (live it up3)..***** (we gone live life up,  Yeah2)..(we gone live it up3)..live life up,..Aye live life up,..Aye (live it up2)..

Everybody come through ***** lets turn up,lets burn up,Blaze (not just one
2)..blaze the whole pacc up **** we got alot (more coming2)..to smoke no we don't ever run out, we living life Yeah..we live life up *****, we gone (live it up2)..live life yeah..Uhh..
If you coming through, Yeah bring your crew with no drama, no guns allowed at all..What up Snoop Lion..,Uhh,if you coming through bring some bottles too, come through & let all the ******* burn up wit the marijuana, come through wit no violence, tonight we will be having no problems none at all dawg,we living it up man..,

(***** We gone../live life up2../)2..

Tonight is gonna be so amazing,..Uhh,.
Only Real ****** invited to my crib, Yeah Only Real gangstas & down chicks, thats (bout it2), man, Aye we (living life up2)..we didn't usta live life at all dawg, we didn't have much fun, I was slaving for America till, I said **** a 9 to 5 bru, & became my own boss OFTR Yeah, just for that Imma (live it up..3)..Yeah Imma live life now.., Yeah tonight I'm living it up, Yeah living it up,I'm  living life how I want,..live it up, Yeah,live it up my *****,..
Let's jam..(Aye, we gone (live life up
2) Yeah2)..

/we gone po up, Yeah we gone roll up, & post up my nig..Uhh, we gone (live it up
2)..Yeah/2
Aye, (we gone (live life up
3), Aye,Yeah2)..
/We gone (live it up
4)..Yeah/3
Live life up my nig..

Whats good , bad lil mama bring yo **** *** over, Yeah come through & bring some of your friends over too, come hang chill & let loose wit a real gangsta Young Ston, Imma show you what's real Babygirl,make sure you bring some lingerie wit ya..Uhh, Imma teach you alot of new things boo, I can tell you ain't been wit a ****.. (Like me before
2)..Never before,.. Aye my life is a critically acclaimed motion picture & it ain't even  been released yet **** having a Oscar nomination, ***** I'm still a winner, Aye don't ever compare me to somebody else , nobody man, unless it's a real one,
Yeah man we turning up, some even throwing up, some even on the floor pissy drunk ****, my crib gonna look a mess in the morning but its all good along as everybody have fun.. (Yeah2)..
We (living life up *****
2)..(live it up3)..Aye

(***** we gone live life up
2)..live it up..(***** we living life up3)..we living life Yeah..(we living life up2), live it up, (yeah, we living life up3)..Uhh..

Ain't no drama, Ain't no problems we drinking, & we blazing marijuana, Ain't no drama, ain't no problems ***** we poing up & smoking that good marijuana,..Ain't no drama, Ain't no problems (we just drinking & blazing marijuana
2)..,Aye..
Ain't no drama, Ain't  no problems my *****(we just living it up2)..We just having fun,..(Yeah live it up3)..Live life *****, Yeah..Uhh Live life up..
Young Ston

(Ain't no drama, Ain't no problems..2)
We living life Yeah..
(Ain't no drama, Ain't no problems..
2)
We living it up my *****..Yeah.
(Live it up*2)..man, Uhh

ONLY FOR THE REAL ENTERTAINMENT
stonpoet.tumblr.com
Edna Sweetlove Jan 2015
Number 7 in the ORLOK series and one of the best*

O how I relish the taste of blood
****** out from the devastated jugular
But there is more, much more
When the victim is a nubile ****
From a Transylvanian village
Where ****** morality
Is quite ******* thin on the ground;
And that is how I met my fate.

'Twas on an October eve
When I met plump Esmeralda
And (having fed my fill from her neck
as she slept in her hut
under filthy rags stinking of stale *****),
I sank my fangs into her naked belly
Ripping into her bloated guts
With my accustomed gusto;
My tongue slurping its way
Over her twitching ****;
And finally I descended joyously
To her odorous *****-encrusted *****
For the last rites,
Before the final curtain
To her worthless life of peasantry.

But then, as my excitement mounted,
And just as I was on the verge
Of pumping out my vampiric *******,
I felt an agonising, mind-blasting pain
As a major stroke swept through me,
Wrecking my synapses big time,
Turning my brain into guacamole.
And now I am a crippled ******,
Just a spasticated old vampire
In my second-hand rusting wheelchair,
Courtesy of Romanian Social Services,
Drooling helplessly
Into my swollen pissy crotch,
Waiting for another enema,
My sole remaining pleasure
And a stimulus to my jaded prostate.

But, hurrah! hurrah! new hope arrives:
A miracle occurs as I read of
The new wonder pill from SuperDrug
Available only in private practise
And guaranteed to rejuvenate the jaded
Or your money back, no worries.
Orlok will fly again to pursue
The pleasures of the flesh
And especially the botty-zone.
Sacrelicious Apr 2012
I'm just gunna
hula-hoop
right through
your
loop
hole.

I'm dating
Debbie Downer
but I'm bi-curious
for Positive Paul.

I'm hungry.
I'm pissy.

Debbie, get back to
Betty.
& Bake me a cake.
I'll go hang out
with
Paul and his country ****.
Whoops,
I mean
Crock.

You can just keep *******'
in the kitchen.
brandychanning Feb 2024
The Pleated Skirt  by Brandy Channing


It was in San Fran,
a destination chosen for
its variety of vicarious distractions,
romance was in the ebb stage
of ebb & flow, and there was
a sufficiency of distraction there,
that my mind
could be there,
in actuality,
in the present,
in the moment,
accounted for,
and the cancer of
rooted sadness,
that wastrel feeling,
was temporal boxed,
in my traveling attic.

On a cable car,
of which
the hills, insisted,
when the
lactic acid, persisted,
be re~viewed as an actual
conveyance methodology.

A-man got on,
sitting
near enough, but not
invasively too near,
and began a
study of me;
perhaps an exercise
in memorization
for a sculpture or a painting,
that would be shown,
in a gallery quaint,
nearby in Benicia,
and destined to be
displayed (dis~splayed?)
near a picture window in a
big old home overlooking
the North Bay, as the
She~Muse mused amusedly.

Or it was just another
inspection by “a man,”
common enough that
it was noticed and noted,
but attended to with a
practiced nonchalance,
which is a French word,
meaning nonchalance.

Ah! descending near the Wharf,
He~too, as he was now labeled,
stored and forgettably tabled,
He~too descended as well.

A meandering into familiarity,
of ancient memories of smells,
of clam chowder,
gulls and sea lions
the inhabitants of Pier 39,
all traced my face with
a grimacing smile,
for sometimes one lives
in a state of duality.

But a voice from behind,
gently inquired if permission
was grantable to recite a poem,
yes, directed to me,
yes, from He~too,
who, awkwardly shifted
his stance from side to side,
as if performing a
pantomime dance routine,
while waiting for
my pithy or pissy,
but always well considered
R.S.V.P.,
which is four french words(!),
meaning, “sure, why not, try me”).

Alas this Techi-he
as he was subsequently
re and de-nominated,
recited a variant of
roses are red etc,,
but concluded with
“your pleated skirt.”

(Roses are red, violets are blue,
when I observed your pleated skirt,
my heart pleaded with me, DO NOT!
let this woman ever escape your purview)

Now this navy medium wooly weight
(always chilled in SF)
somewhat too short skirt,
was a hand-me-down
from my mother (mom!)
who in a prior decade,
dressed like everybody else,
but with a panache,
(yes, a French word meaning panache)
that declaimed and declared,
“I do it my way”
and was in truth,
a fav of mine when
accented with dark tights
and preppy but comfortable
matching navy penny loafers
(mais non! pas de béret ridicule).

By now, you know, I know,
how to deal with men, whose
onslaughts are like the beaches
of Normandy, littered with death &
destruction from my hot herbal tea,
heated by rapid fire of my
machine gun fire,
my bullets of verbosity
from an old, original ***,
used by my grandfather.

But this reference to my pleated skirt,
flattering me when accompanied
with a beautiful French blouse,
sunglasses, and my heart and hair
openly parted down the middle
in a nod
to Haight~Ashbury
hippie history,
was off kilter,
or as Techi-he would later
joke that I was off-kilted (a pleated skirt),
and taken prisoner, a POW, which
under the rules of the Geneva Convention,
would be guaranteed all the necessities
of a good loving.

We are California Commuters,
me in LA, he in SF,
an unlikely combination,
he and me,
of milieux, personality,
yet not dissimilar:
harmonized when
he writes code snippets
on diner napkins, and
I,
snippets of poems
on diner napkins,,
he clears my laptop’s cache,
I clear his heart and vision,
a blending of

vive la différence!


and we see each other often,
as in as often as we can,
we vacation in the South,
of France, where he learns
of Impressionism, and a
different sea coastal ocean
environment.

I, learn from him,
his remarkable human fondue,
of intensity and concentration,
which melts into gentility and
a softness natural that steals my
heart, accompanied by the ridiculous
rhymes he passes me beneath the table,
notes toujours,
always perfect
for that moment,
like my pleated skirt

*(which now resides in his closet,
lest
its magic work again, thus,
kept safe by him, in a wardrobe,
to which he has locked and keyed,
and is worn upon request, my bequest,
it, a whirling twirling dervish of a poem enshrined,
a wearable honoring
our commencement,
our commitment,
our pleated,
plaited hearts.)
JM McCann May 2015
I don’t tell them I’m going to a protest,
as I know they will not say no, it really
is far safer.
The police have been pretty fair, only a couple
of ******* arrests and cause white privilege
I probably won’t get arrested.
In a black and white democracy color is prohibited.
I never have been close in a protest yet, the police always tolerant
maybe the commissioner doesn’t ****.
I don’t boast to them about starting a chapter in my
school.
I don’t them that the chapter I started with them was finished hundreds
of pages ago.

I don’t tell them I cut class to protest the B.S minimum wage
how I ****** the very thing I’m trying to start cause 
I was in a pissy mood.

I don’t them about how my friend and I were okay
with paying a guy trying to sell us **** to buy
us alcohol, later losing 20$
and not okay with going into a tattoo shop for the same purpose.
I don’t tell them about wandering around Chinatown
feeling like we should be drunk.

About the girl who in eighth grade asked me to touch
her *****, and I don’t tell them how
two years later we start hanging out— over facebook.
She moved to London.
About how she will be in the city the day my family goes away,
about trading facebooks for fifteen minutes
and having weird *** crap on my Facebook
and talk of how Jesus is an improper child on hers.

Nor do I my parents about meeting up with a
girl who I meet a month ago at a pillow fight,
and how right they were when they said ******
tables manners will catch up to you,
about how leaving a protest cause "my parents
are ******" and later seeing those people at the burger place.
I tell my parents I’m chilling with my buddies.
I tell them that I got pizza instead of burgers.
Because friends are safer to parents than a nineteen year
old girl you met at a pillow fight and how the entire time you
could not tell if it was friends meeting up or
people who wanted more.

I don’t tell them the reason why I’m so ******* fragile
is that I can’t tell if I’m manipulating myself or being real,
or how I’m the only one who is hurting me,
for fear of saying what I just told you.

Now all of this ******* **** lives in me and I have
nobody to proofread this.
Lovely.
Again kind of me in a less than stunning place I will for sure be editing this and creating a few new poems off this
David Nelson Nov 2013
Philosofication

Personally, I’m not ******. Somebody I know is. He is so upset over something he had no control over that the rest of his day is “Absolute ****!”. His words, not mine. In fact, this all started in the morning when he tripped on a rock. It was then that he decided the whole day is ruined.

I really don’t have a clue how somebody can get that angry over stupid ****. How can a whole day be ruined by one silly little incident? That was less than 20 seconds out of the 86,400 seconds in the complete day. How does that ruin the entire rest of the day? The only explanation I can come up with is that these people have a case of stickuptheassititus.

That is a word. Trust me.

The people suffering from this believe that one little incident will have a profound effect on the rest of their existence. Tripping over a rock means that there is no longer a reason to be happy. In fact, any bad thing that happens leads to more bad things. Even if they have to go searching for it.

In recent studies that were never published because I just made them up, people with severe cases of stickuptheassititus have been known to rip heads off of kittens that aren’t cute enough. If their daily routines is interrupted, they will blow a proverbial gasket. It will be their main concern to make sure their whole day, and the day of those around them, is complete and utter ****.
In a recent survey that never happened, 3 out of 10 people firmly believed the Universe was out to get them because a bird took a healthy crap on their windshield. 2 out of those 10 have been miserable since ’76 because they didn’t get the 13″ Six Million Dollar Man action figure dressed in a red NASA style jumpsuit and came equipped with a Bionic Arm, a Bionic Left Eye with a wide angle lens and an Engine Block for Christmas.
Seriously folks, I don’t see the point of being miserable and ******* over things that are completely out of your control. If you trip over a rock, watch where you step. Get over it. **** it up like a big boy and move on. The Universe did not put that rock there to get you. It is not a grand conspiracy to make you have a bad day. Just because one tiny insignificant incident happens, does not mean everybody is out to get you.
Let me put this into perspective for you.
NOTE: Those with tiny brains should stop reading in fear that your head will explode and the person sitting next to you will have to clean it up before somebody sees your exploded head and accuses them of ******. Save them the headache of having to go on trial for a crime they may have wanted to commit but didn’t actually do.

Back to the perspective thing.

You are nothing more than a speck in the Universe. You are not part of the grand scheme of things. Your short life on this tiny, blue green rock is not going to make a difference to anybody who does not know you. Not even to a few that do. I don’t know. I try not to judge. Often.
This rock is over a couple million years old. It has seen it’s share of creatures come and go. Once you are gone, it will just move on. This little rock is also floating somewhere in this vast Universe that stretches farther than your eyes can see. If you were to stand in front of a map of the Universe, You wouldn’t even be able to see the teeny, tiny little arrow that says “You Are Here.”
That being said, You were not singled out of the multitude of organisms is this Universe to be picked on. Sometimes, **** just happens. To think that You are special enough to have the whole Universe stop what it is doing just to **** with you is beyond ridiculous and kind of insulting. It’s not like your Me or anything.

Time to Philosoficate

In the evidence that even the great and powerful ME is also a speck on the pimple of the Universe’s ***, I feel it is time to reflect on the way things could be. My view is a simple one, don’t spend what little time you have wasting it away in a pissy, little ***** mood.

Me personally, I don’t like being angry or in a bad mood. I would prefer to be happy.
There are rare moments when I get so angry I lose sight of the big picture. Moments when I just spent two hours creating the best design ever and Illustrator crashes so I lose everything. I don’t get ****** at the program for crashing. It doesn’t have an emotional reason for causing me grief. I get mad because I was the complete idiot that didn’t save his work for two hours. I get ****** at myself.
Besides that, the only other reason I would get angry is if somebody purposely caused harm to my family. Thank the Universe that hasn’t happened yet. I don’t have the time to torture somebody yet so I’ll just end up locking them in a crate and then forget about them like I did my pet turtle Mr. Shell. Then I would have to make the time to dig a grave or burn the crate which would stink up the neighborhood. Either way, CSI people would be involved and then I would have to take the extra time to find the best person to frame for the crime.
I didn’t even get ****** when I failed miserably trying to walk to Phoenix. Disappointed, Yes. ******, No. Still think it would be an awesome idea but I will not be doing it.
Anyways, for those of you who actually get it, good for you. For those that are inflicted with it, most of you are hopeless causes and will eventually whither away. The Universe will still keep rolling along. Take a brief moment on this journey of life and take that stick out of your ***. Walk over, smell the flowers and resist your urge to ***** about them. Life gets a **** load better when you’re not always worked up over the tiny details.

* By Scott Linke *

Gomer LePoet....
I found this editorial while searching for time travel/distances to deepest observable universe, and I thought it worth a look.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE
Cadence Musick Jul 2013
hell, i know i'm a pain in the ***
i get angry just at the sight of a cracked glass;
because i don't like things that are inconvenient
and i don't like when you hide your feelings.
i become a dam with some poor fool's
finger shoved into the hole, while i continue
to fill with watery rage, until
flimsy fleshy fingers
stand no chance against
the current that is my fire
and i knock the silly fool
straight off his feet, and the streams rush, unhinged
right, bullseye,
into you.
Annie Nov 2011
He could not see
What was under his nose
So he plated the thorns
On the Phrygian rose
And there she sat
Barbs glittered - not gilded
Impaled on her spit
Of aureate anvils.

And the pissy-beds
In their plain yellow trappings
Fathometer blips
On a bed of green wrapping
Their ******* halos
Trudged underfoot
As he ground them to mince
In the threads of his boots.

He could only love
What he couldn’t have
What lay free at his feet
Was too common a salve.
But it’s hard to love
What is hard to hold
Thorns will draw blood
Even if covered in gold.
Brian Payamps Sep 2014
She said, "How can you just stand there and not care"
I stood my ground as she melted On to the kitchen floor
Told her, "You don't have to hurt no more."
As I walked out like her deadbeat Farher. The door slammed.
Went. Copped a bottle.
And let the project shadows swallow me
Darkness mixed with Hennessy.
I pictured you in my greatest dreams
A minime, a better me
The hurt the pain was just airing out me
Talking to myself in these empty streets
Who is there to hear me!!
Never did I ask why me
Thought I'll help you find your destiny
But God had a better plan for you that didn't include me.
Was it my fault child?
Did I *** short child?
From the **** and the liquor in me
No rubber on when she begged me... to stay.
Your mama brought the devil out from me
But I loved her, loved her more deeply than what I've loved anybody
You were the make or break
The should I go or should I stay
Only man to smile when the cycle didn't come around.
Ask God where I go from here now?
Where you a boy?
Where you a girl?
It doesn't matter with her looks and my attitude you could have taken over the world.
Sun rising as I walk back in to the projects fading shadows
A sticky lobby while wait for this pissy elevator
32nd floor express
As I walk in I see your mama there melted on the kitchen floor
This is a letter to my unborn child
Hope my words reached you in my prayers
Letter to my unborn child.
Tremble inside feeling so cold without you.
Sleep, rest illusive.  
My hurt on display for the world.  
It is so hard to breath without you.
You hexed my ***** and I cannot *** without you!
I miss your voice
You won't take my calls.
You blocked me on flickr viewbug and more.
I ******* adored you and you stupid man
Why the **** am I on ignore??
Oh You wanted to be the one to break my heart
The only one no but the most hurt.
The pissy thing is you never said a negative word
I miss your positivity, your loving words
I miss you more than ice cream, motor cycle season, life
I will take what you gave me and apply it every day.
You were the best in so many ways.
I long to hear your voice calling to me again.
I have done my best to forget, erase hear you no more to no end
Lay in bed calling out your name while my tears roll down my pillow
Your not to blame.
You made a choice to walk away, erase me
Make me pain.
My camera is very inspired so I cannot really complain.
The audience feels hollow compared to the smiles with you I came.
I miss the intimacy, the stares, the hot pants moans and **** glares.
I miss your instruction on just what to do
Dude you turned me into a pile of goo.
I would be ok if I could just ***
You hexed my *****
Im ******* ******...and I need to giggle
*** have you done?
Sigh, why..so sudden did I go from your everything
Your entire world
to your ignore list
I wish I understood
Kimberly Clemens Aug 2013
I miss you
I heard the remorse in your voice as you said it.
Well, sweetheart, I guess I could say I miss you too.

I *miss
your judgemental demeanor
And your pugnacious attitude.

I miss you treating me like ****
And your constant complaining.

I miss your vicious words
And your pointless insecurities.

I miss your pissy glare
And your interrogating questions.

I miss your painful attempts at saying sorry
And especially your violent movements.

And do you remember the first day you came into my life?
Oh, love, how I wish I could have missed that too.
Jeremy Duff Nov 2012
"It's ****** depressing, when you think about it."
I looked up from my cigarette, which I had been admiring soberly in the dark moonlight.
"When you think about what?"
"When the person you're talking to is more interested in their stinkin' cigarette than your "spilling of the heart.""
"I apologize, sincerely. How may I make it up to you?"
My partner sighed.
"I don't know Nolan, tell me one of your horrible stories that always make me feel better."
I thought for a few minutes before I stumbled upon an ill fated November morning in my thoughts.
"Well Tyler, this one time I was fishing with my dad and his friend, Todd, on Todd's boat. We were out on this ******* chilling lake at 6 in the morning and I had fallen asleep. Todd's boat was small and only had two seats, the driver and the passenger. So, being the youngest on the boat I had to sit on an ice chest by the motor. It reeked of oil and nasty stuff yet I somehow managed to fall asleep. When I woke up, my dad was yelling, telling me to stay awake. I figured, seeing how I was on a boat, I might as well fish. I picked up a pole and cast it out of the end of the boat. On my first ill fated cast I got tangled with Todd's line. So, we reeled in and untangled them. On the next cast the same thing happened, only I dangled with my dad's line. They told me it might be better if I stopped casting out so I returned to my ice chest throne and almost instantly fell asleep. I woke up to my dad yelling at me again. We were at shore and they were telling me to get off and sit on shore until they were done. So, I went on shore and fell asleep almost, again, instantly. I woke up via my own devices and I started throwing rocks into the water, trying to make them skip. I watched my dad and Todd fish from their tiny little boat. They were right out in the middle and a leak had sprung. They started coming back to shore but, as if on quee, the motor died. Long story short, the boat sunk. My dad and Todd were fine. Todd wasn't even that made because his boat was a ******* floating stick, basically. I just find it funny that my ableness to fall asleep and my patrons impatience caused me to be warm and dry while they ended up wet and pissy."
Gabriel Ibarra Aug 2018
I wanna give you all of my mornings, even though I don't sleep though
Send you endless poems, countless selfies I just hope that you keep those
Locked away to look back on months or years or weeks from now
Make you wonder, make you ponder, make you think somehow
That at one point we were strangers unbeknownst to one another
Now I can't see me as whole if ain't we got each other
There's no me and you or you and I it's just us
Bound by these ties that we create and double knot, praying they never come undone
But if we bend or break I know that you can patch us up
Pray you make me an optimist and keep me from acting up
Hold me down, figuratively or otherwise
Hands pinned down, feign a struggle mesmerized
Look up, see you geeking, cheesing and laughing
Creases deepen on your cheeks and give you wrinkles worth having
Not like the ones when you furrow your brow, pouting and pissy
Mad about some **** I probably did and I hope that you forgive me
Hope the only silent treatment you give me is when you're fast asleep
But if you talk in your sleep I'm cool with it
Just please don't snore
And understand from time to time my hamper is the floor
But I'll always be sure to clean up
Never leave the seat up
And if you've had a long day, let you kick your feet up
Give you a foot rub, let you vent and rant away
And do whatever the equivalent of Netflix and chill is these days
Redshift Feb 2013
HEY YOU

...who?
me?

YEAH!
Zoom out for a second, *******.
While you're sitting there
Some sorry
Sob
Messed up
Girl
Who's so preoccupied
With every drift
In some idiot's mood
WILL YOU TAKE A FREAKING SECOND
And think about what you're doing?
Your GPA is probably off crying somewhere
In the fetal position
Stop worrying abou -

HEY YOU
YEAH YOU
WHEN DID YOU GET SO PISSY
yeah i'm wallowing in misery
but i'm only human!
i guess i shouldn't have
let him get to me
but he
is so sweet to me
when he wants to be...

Like I care!
You wanna be a failure
Forever?
You've been doing a great ******* job of it
For almost 20 years
Guess you don't wanna
Mess up your streak...

...well that was rude.
do you mind?
i can't help what's
on my mind
i really think i love this guy
just not the coward
he's shaping up to be
love should be anything but
cowardly...

FORGET ABOUT IT
Forget about him!
You don't have time for this!
See that great
Big
Ugly
Threatening
Thing over there?
Yeah, the one with the
Baseball bat
That's all the homework you've got
This weekend.
Stop being such a whiny ***
Pull it together.

alright!
alright!
i won't talk to him
tonight
i'll try
i will...
to get back on
track...
Jordan Farelli Sep 2012
As the years you live
Are continuously progressing
You find new things
To keep you stressing

About a life that you
Hadn’t a thought about thinking
Because your head was in the clouds
And your hands were busy painting

Although time passes
Memories still hold true
Like those many times in math class
When you didn’t understand, and I helped you

Through the years I’ve seen you grow
And I’ve heard of some changes
But some things hold true
And I still have your paintings

A rose made of lead
A fallen savior risen from a blank sheet
And a man and his belly
With colors that made me think

About the person behind
These amazing creations
What a wonderful woman
With such a vast imagination

Beauty becomes you
And you’ve done nothing but flourish
Not one flaw would flaw you
You will always be timeless

Now, as these sentiments draw down
Let’s get to "brass tacks"
You’re all grown up now
And it might shock you to face facts

Because it’s hard to grow up
When all you want is to be young
To lay around with friends
And listen to your favorite song

This day is yours
In so many ways
Your 20’s are over,
IT’S YOUR FREAKIN’ 30th BIRTHDAY!!!

I hope the basket of goodies
Got to you in one piece
And didn’t arrive spoiled
Before you had a chance to drink and eat

Enjoy the cheese and crackers
In times of reminiscing
And save all the chocolate
For when you’re alone and pissy

The ***** is there for you
If bad memories should creep up
So you can wash them away,
And shut ‘em the **** up.

These are the first gifts
I’ve given in awhile
I hope it lifts your spirits
And brings you a smile

Now one last thing
Before my novice poem comes to a close
It’s just a short read
And it’s got a touch of flow

Take time to enjoy
All the things you hold dear
And grab all the moments
You can when they are near
darylgussin Mar 8
“Did you bring the specimen sample?” the lab employee asked,

“UUhhhhhhh, no, I wasn’t aware I had to bring it.”

“Well…you can’t do that in here. Can you go home, do you live around here?”

“I wouldn’t be able to get back before you closed.”

“Ah ****, well, okay, take this,” he handed me a sample jar, “There’s a restroom on the second floor—”

“Woah! What? It’s a single-use restroom right?”

“Yeah man, don’t worry, we’ve all gone up there when we needed some privacy.”

“Jesus, okay, thanks, I’ll…be back…soon,” said in the manner of a partial-statement, partial-question,

And so there I was, on the second floor of a lab facility, attempting to get a sample after perhaps I had already produced too many samples in too short of time, especially for a man like me who is no longer a teenager, it was a rather difficult process, the environment was less than conducive, and when it finally happened it gave me an exertion headache that was so excruciatingly painful I thought my brain was going to ******* explode out of my ******* ears, my life’s work, concluded as I fell to the pissy floor of this restroom, having produced an extremely small amount of sample, what I had been viewing on my phone would have surely amused many, disappointed a few, and maybe flattered one, but ultimately nothing would matter ‘cause I would be dead, oh well,

When I went back downstairs to the office and gave the employee the jar he handed me a sterile one and told me, “Alright, just in case we need another sample, do it at home next time,” and I did.
Riley Wilson Aug 2010
I'll sing my lonesome away, until my lungs betray me,
then I'll strum and strum until the strings won't play the,
tune my heart's been playing since the day she,
took it all away she, pushed me away she,
ain't ever going to tear my heart out.
ZWS May 2014
It's a crazy ******* world
Concealed inside here
It's a mind inside matter
Of nihilistic fears
It's a give or a care, or lack there of
It's a pissy little kid, lovebred smug
It's all the things you can't talk about, an unattended Molotov
Ma Cherie Feb 2017
Tell me will you poet?
tell me sweetly in my ear,
tell me of your darkest sin,
and of your hidden fear,
then I will tell it back to you ,
and jot it right down here,
so tell me if you go with it ,
just what you wish to hear?

( I'm listening )

I can tell you that you're perfect,
that you're nice as nice can be,
an I'll tell you that I am your friend,
that you have a friend in me,

( ugh...not so much )

I'll tell you-
you're the handsomest,
as handsome as a star,
the dreamy one from childhood,
who lives somewhere a far,

( I wish... )

I'll tell you that you're wonderful,
that you're honest -
and you're sweet,
an I'll be at your beckon call,
just waiting at your feet,
I will be the sweetest girl,
that you will ever meet,

( Oh boy )

I'll curve the pretty world you view,
an distort it if I must,
tell me will you poet,
are my words the ones you trust?
I can tell a sad goodbye,
or sheets we tangle up in lust,

( ....uh..notta chance, but-)

I can tell of heated passion,
of heated lovers in the night,
while some have heated *******,
some others have a fight,
either way with all that heat,
there's hope they both ignite,
an when you cut your own hand off,
it's only YOU-
you spite,

( OK don't get pissy )

So I can kiss you with my paper,
I can caress you with my pen,
I can leave you feeling anxious love,
or I can leave you feeling zen,
I can be beside you there,
just name it where and when,

( hope not tho )

I can mention that you're genius,
just the smartest guy I know,
except for when it comes to love,
and then it's all for show,
or I can just omit that part,
so no one ever know,

( I'm sure you'd prefer that )

I can tell you any fake thing,
so sweetly in your ear,
it may not be the truth though,
and there in lies the fear,
if I tell you only truth then,
when I'm drawn in really near,
then tell me will you poet,
what should I say my dear?

( oy vey )

Because some objectified objects,
well they have opinions too,
and flattery gets you no where see,
even if these facts I say are true,
it's only in a certain light,
when you tip it all askew,
so that everyone can finally see,

The real "beauty" there in you,
as it all comes out,
now so clearly into view,

And I wonder why would I-
ever waste a single precious breath?!

Ma Cherie © 2017
Added the last part at 12:38 p.m. any thoughts ? Not someone I'm with - you know -some people!?...grrrrr my dad used to say a real "beauty" lol thanks wonderful poets  ❤❤❤
Lady Grey Sep 2017
I bite my cheek and pinch my arm
In a place that mom cant see

“Why are you so pissy today?”
“You’re such a drag to be around
when you act like this”
She says

“sorry”
I say
Instead of the retort that comes to my mind:
‘So are you on the days you’re mad,
When you’re done with everyone’s ****’

But i know that will earn me an even bigger glare
A clenching of teeth
And a good ol’ grounding

So i sit quietly brooding and fuming and say simply
“sorry”

sorry im not good enough for you
sorry i have feelings unlike you
sorry im
not
enough

“How are you?”
Asks my good friend via text
“Pretty good hbu” i reply with vision blurred from tears
The marks i clawed into my arm still burning

“Dinner’s ready!”
Yells someone upstairs
“I’ll be up in a sec!”
I reply
Hastily pulling down my sleeve
and wiping away the messy makeup around my eyes

‘Whelp’
I think to myself
‘I hope they dont notice’

They dont
And if they do they dont mention it
For which im grateful

I dont feel like launching into a discussion that typically ends with me a blubbering mess

Anytime we have that discussion anyway

I know we need another one,
But i just cant bring myself to reveal anything
That might make them think somethings wrong with me

So for now ill just
Smile
And keep saying
“sorry”
sorry guys i was depressed

— The End —