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Elihu Barachel Feb 2015
Your Damnation slumbers not, in Hell you're going to burn
EVERY Queerass ******, CONDEMNATION you did earn
-
So while your still alive, skip along your merry way
Soon you'll be in Hell, God your soul will slay
-
Pretend it isn't so, deny the Word of God
When you finally burn in Hell, then I will applaud
-
Tisk-tisk oh ****** Fruitcake, my poem you don't like?
Read it to your buddy, and every single ****
-
Read it ****** Fruitcake! Read the part where you will BURN
Read it Fruitcake Queer! Your DAMNITION you did earn
The Silence  Apr 2017
Fruitcake
The Silence Apr 2017
Something I have not quite understood
As to why it is part of Christmas.
Tis the season,
For fruitcake.
A little bundle of squishy undercooked bread
Stuffed with candied fruits and nuts.
The loaf of
No thank you...please.
Though seemingly undesired,
The dessert reigns on.
Wrapped in clear plastic
So that you may marvel at its artificial glory.
Tied off with a bow.
Ready to be received by those you love most.
Tis the season,
**For fruitcake.
I realize it is far past Christmas but it snowed yesterday. It seems appropriate now :)
Larissa Frost Dec 2020
I never liked
Fruitcake
Just like the way
I never liked
The way you treated
Me like trash.
So I showed you
The way out
And I survived
Ironic though
people still
eat fruitcake.


                      -L. Frost
Blowing a plume of toxic smoke.                  Into the nebulous reflection of a pallid wasted face                                                      He grinsfrom ear to ear.                               The blood painted vulpine smile of a lunatic clown.                                                      The mirror  image confuses the conflicted. Yet it speaks rancorous truths                                                                 This is a very special day indeed.                Fruitcake Day.    We have all been released from the cages   The human zoo has opened the gates of hell.                  Party hats are donned by the very special people as they walk about doomed to mortality. Let them enjoy brief moments of light.  Placid and placated. Walking in a daze. Give them Thorazine lollipops and free passes. The bat cages are lying in wait
Olivia Kent  May 2014
Fruit cake
Olivia Kent May 2014
Darling was a fruit cake,
soft,
moist,
sweet,
always very fruity,
crunchy,
Demerera sprinkled on the top,

sat on the lawn,
had a picnic,
my darling fruitcake,
oh my beautiful fruitcake,
I left my fruitcake,
on a plate edged,
with gilt,

All of a sudden,
awe,
shock,
and horror,
all of a sudden,
a weird bird came,
she pecked away my lover,
she stole his eyes,
he could not see,
she fancied him as her ****,
that bird!
(C) Livvi
Ha ha ! **
Elihu Barachel Feb 2015
Tell me ****** Fruitcake, tell me Fruitcake Queer
Do you wipe the **** from off your ****, after ******* your sweet dear?
-
Or does your partner lick it off, while you 69?
Yummy yummy chocolate! A flavor so sublime
-
Hey ****** Queerass Fruitcake, did it ever come to mind?
That you're going to burn in Hell, you'll be there for all time
Macstoire Mar 2014
You can yank me out of Yorkshire but I still want Yorkshire pudding
You can send me south but I’ll still go bargain hunting
Even though it is that I live in the South
I still have a hint of the northern mouth
Well that’s what the southerners say
But I’m sure to you it doesn’t sound that way
Anyway regardless where I am at
I’m Yorkshire bred and that’s a fact
To present this case to you
Some traits of yours; I have a few
I chose cheese to partner fruitcake
And forever search for savings to make
I always speak what’s on my mind
Which at times southerners think unkind
Though they themselves aren’t so good
When it comes to small talk in moments stood
A stranger is a momentary friend to a northerner
Whilst the southerner stands awkwardly waiting
I know which I would rather be
Let’s just say it has its’ own tea
So I am most pleased to see
That so much of you has rubbed off on me
For you my northern family
Are in my thoughts more than you know
And without you I would not be so
For my Grandparents in Redcar, Christmas 2012
Duncan Brown  Sep 2018
Exodus
Duncan Brown Sep 2018
Not long after the beginning, and a bit before the end, the Almighty said to Noah: “Is that your real name?” “Yeah”, said Noah: “you gave it to me, your ever generousness. I was hoping for something a bit more romantic, maybe even an extra syllable or two, or become all psychedelic and have a hyphen and a double barrel, but Noah is functional. I’m not complaining, a lot. After all what’s in a name? Wouldn’t a cactus be just as uninteresting if it was called something else? Why am I and my not very exciting name so humbly in your almighty and quite tedious presence?” asked Noah. “I’ve had a great idea”, said God: “and I want you with the very boring name to be the first to hear it.” “Can’t wait to hear it your Denseness, even if it is only half as brilliant as the square wheeled chariot and deep-fried ice cube you nearly invented for us last week; and as for the three-armed jacket, well what can I say? Jacob wears his every day and I won’t tell you what he does with it at night, as it involves folk music. And didn’t the Paisley patterned boulder illuminate the landscape?” said Noah “Oh good”, said God: “I do so enjoy it when the minions are attentive to my every word and trembling syllable, What’s the point of being an Almighty if you can’t Almighty it over the lower orders from time to time?” “I couldn’t agree more, your Bampotness. Even if you do appear to be a few slices short of a full loaf on occasions. So, what’s this big idea you’ve had?” said Noah. “I want you to build a boat, the biggest and bestest boat there’s ever been” said God. “Why”, said Noah, “we live in a desert, we don’t do boats; never have done, don’t get a lot of call for them in these parts, your Obliqueness. Ordinarily you’re every utterance is a symphony of sound and beauty to the sticky out bits on the abstract countenance you have so generously created for me, O Guano features. Couldn’t you do another plague of frogs and locusts? We loved those. Your subjects haven’t eaten so well since. Very tasty they were indeed, and so much more nourishing than the daily fare of cactus bark and centipede you dish up to us as we go about our increasingly diminishing mortal trespass. I hope you weren’t baffled by the paradoxical construction of that sentence. One Almighty’s punishment is another lowly minion’s business opportunity. I was running a fast food joint while it lasted. Made a change from the normal feast, where you have to catch your dinner before it catches you. Eat before your eaten that’s the Law ‘round here. It makes you feel more like a recipe than a person on occasions, your Compostness.” “Be that as it may, said God: “I’ve got some drawings which Eve helped me to make” “Eve?”  said Noah: “did you say Eve?” “Yes” said God: “Eve”, that’s what I said, she likes me more than all the rest of you put together and that’s why she’s my favourite” “This will be good” said Noah: “let’s be having it. Let’s see the cosmic blueprint of a less than useless boat that Eve devised” “I helped to devise it as well”, said God: “In fact I done all the pencil sharpening, and here it is.” Noah sniggered and said: “That’s not a boat it’s a camel!” “Brilliant, isn’t it?”, said God: “you’ve got to hand it to Eve; she’s a genius at this kind of stuff, and she says it will make me look jolly clever as well. And that will stop all you ungrateful and wretched minions from smirking and sniggering every time I have a wonderful idea.” “This is even better than the ten commandments, three dos six don’ts and a maybe” said Noah. “My Ten commandments were wonderful” said God: “even Moses said so.” “The only reason you have ten commandments”, said Noah: “is because you have ten fingers. If you had seventeen fingers we would have seventeen commandments; one for each digit. People who use their toes to count their fingers should avoid life’s mathematical complexities. And as for Moses ‘The Born Leader’ he’s a party hack. He’ll agree with anything you say as long as he gets his name on the tablet. He’s publicity mad. When he grows up he wants to chisel the definitive text on cactus attraction, for the benefit of future desert wanderers. Eve says he a bit of a Freudian fruitcake on the quiet, whatever that is. She also says, his mother told him he was adopted, and he’s never quite got over it.” “Why would Moses want to get over a cactus, seems jolly silly to me” said God: “He’s a complete basket case, according to the local grapevine. Never mind all that, let’s see the blueprint.” said Noah: “A wooden camel, only a cosmic idiot could imagine it. If it was a wooden horse it could have been sold to the Trojans, or a wooden cat to the Pharoahs, and I’m told the antipodeans go a bundle on timber budgies, but camels; nobody wants one, not even other camels. How did someone as colossally dense and as infinitely thick as your self acquire the surreallness of thought to imagine it in the first place?” said Noah. “You’re a bright little chappie for a minion”, said God: “Eve told me about the Greeks and their wooden gee-gee and I suggested a boat, then Eve pointed out that this was a desert, and consequently we need a desert boat. ‘One that floats on sand’, I said. ‘Not quite El Plonkero’ she said. Then Eve said we have to adopt and then apply some lateral thinking to the problem. She pointed out that we live in a desert and that we need a boat that sails in the desert. And then I had the mostest cleverest thought I’ve had in ages. We need a ‘desert boat’ I exclaimed. And Eve said I was a true plankton eater. She says the nicest things to me. A ‘ship of the desert,’ she says, ‘and what’s a ship of the desert?’  Quick as a flasher in the rush hour, I said ‘a camel’, and Eve replied that I was quite bright for a log, and that camel plus ship equalled wooden camel to sail away from here to some other paradise she called Hollywood, ‘Land of heavenly bodies and the drop dead gorgeous Brad Pitt.’” “And you believed her?” said Noah. “Of course I believed her”, said God: “she’s Eve and if you can’t believe in Eve what else is there to believe in?” “There’s an answer to that”, said Noah: “but you’d toast me like a heretic on the happy juice if I repeated it, your Doorknobness.”
rootsbudsflowers Jul 2016
She sends me snippets of her body in photographs. If I was meant to forget her then why would she torture me so? Her hands and her hair. Her eyes and neck and lips. So vivid in a glimpse, I can taste her. Not so innocent when she's unzipping her top in this shot. Not so sweet as she sends me her bare hips.
Photographs.
Are such.
A tease.
Why throw it out of it doesn't go bad?
Brandon Navarro  Aug 2014
Rainbow
Brandon Navarro Aug 2014
We are groups of people
made to hate
because of who we love
not what we stand for.
Did no one listen to
your parents?
You treat others how you want to be treated
not
throwing beer bottles
and whining when it misses their head
not
coming at them with a knife
because a man is holding a man's hand.
We are taught as kids
being gay isn't okay.
You could be a murderer
but you can't love another man.
Why?
Why
can't I love who I love.
People would rather
have a man dying alone
in the hospital
because his boyfriend of 35 years
isn't his husband
than letting love flourish.
People would rather **** us off
than understand.
People would have broken homes
where kids come home to beatings
their head shoved in an oven
*****
molested
beaten to a pulp
cigars burned out on their arms
and hit with beer bottles to
the point of being broken
than to let a happily loving couple of two men
to have that child.
They would rather see
a red sea of bodies
than to allow us
to live.
People would rather say
"******"
"fruitcake"
"***"
"fairy"
and watch their child slit his wrist
for every time he looks at a man
and feels a twinge of love
than to let him be happy.
They would rather torcher and torment children to the point
of mental breakdowns
rushing blood
soar throats
living alone
on the streets
no love
pretending.
Than to let them be them.
People love purple
that it means freedom
but I like the rainbow.
Rainbows have a million colours
and not one colour is quite the same hue.
No one hates rainbows
or the gorgeous colours it has.
Not many notice the differences
of them so,
why can't everyone
treat other people
like we're rainbows?
Anonymous May 2014
"And now please welcome today's anti-terrorism speaker, Anonymous!"

[anonymous applause, dwindling out]

"Thanks, everyone. The reason I prefer anonymity should be self-evident, but just to make it clear, I wish to avoid the recrimination of the hostile element."

"Before I got here I was just reading, and believe me I'm still not believing, but it would seem, on the whole, that planetary aggression is on the slow."

A hand is raised
A hand is ignored
The speaker moistens his lips
Prepared to emit a bit more.

"I have stats and stories
Tortuous anecdotes about little girls and boys
Food and sanitation is a crime itself
And I'm prepared to say we live in our own hell."

Arms upheld wither down
As new hands reach for attention
But the speaker ignores them all
Intent on his own presentation.

"The reason for hate
Is more or less clear
We fiercely believe one thing
As they devoutly believe another.

But do not fear!
We are right and they are wrong
They saddle their own children with a death song
No cartoons of basic morality
Just legs with bombs
Made to go off remotely."

An angry rustle
Amidst lowered hands
Quieting now
Like they're getting the hang of it.

"Humans are robots
Programmable, malleable and sometimes trustworthy
Highly complicated machinery!
Indoctrination is the virus
That seeks to destroy the outside."

Again the raised hands
And eyebrows too
All these fluttering robots
Fluttering in a pseudo-free zoo.

Ignoring the obvious
The speaker plods onwards
But modulates his voice
Against their trained reactions.

"We need to accept and enfold
An ideology only thousands of years old
To mutate and twist
Into what our children might wish."

Someone yells "Disney!"
Another mutters "Black whiteys"
But there are a few
Who remain to hear it through.

"Despite what you think
Despite who you are
Against all you've been taught
We've come quite far.

You may not know your son
You may not know your daughter
But leave them alone
And tomorrow may happen.

Put the guns aside
Drink from your hidden bottles without shame
You are who you are
And you should let them be them."

This is not what anyone wanted
Anyone over the age of ten
This is not what anyone wanted
With children and the urge to brainwash them.

The room trickles out
Leaving the most devout
Devoted to the future
Any future left standing.

But amidst this group
Are hard-liner elements
And one has a voice
Cutting through it all
To ask, "What about bomber babies?"

And riding right on top
Is a fat slobbery Republican fop
Demanding in his self-entitled way
"What the **** about America?"

The speaker shrugs
As if to indicate
Which question
Is more stupid.

"We seek to leave the planet
And develop tech to make it happen
You go your way
And we go ours."

The room is smaller now
They indulge in eye contact
Personal communications
Words, hands, heads and eyebrows.

The speaker sighs
As if on the cusp of absolute honesty
Then spills his true guts
To these few radicals and emissaries:

"Our worst enemy is ourselves
Through millennia fashioning our own hells
Subjugation of non-prominent DNA
Believing destruction will pave the way.

But on a not-much larger scale
We're just cheap entertainment
For every other race
That crawled up this hill."

The crowd is slightly subdued
Probably more from shame
Than anything
Because shame is in the DNA
And experienced by everyone.

But we can always rely
On some fat Republican to decry
"But not me!
And for sure not my children!"

And now even more file out
Hearts emptied and minds afloat
Now it's just the sweating speaker
And a few odd haters.

"We're a microbial phenomenon
Miraculously still alive
And still inept
At staying alive."

He waves a casual hand like a maestro
And behind him the stage glows
A 30x30 screen descends
Illuminating bugs as they crawl.

"We're slightly smarter
But no more hardier
Than Hymenoptera
Except we can leave this planet."

Red-faced and obviously insulted
The old fat plushy storms out
Leaving now just a few
To adopt this future-flung view.

"We need to terraform and colonize
Sure, and design space suits
Pleasing to the eye
But ultimately,
We need to get the hell gone."

One clap, one frown
The speaker shrugs
As if wondering
Why aren't we all gone?

And so he is left
With the clean-up crew
And one fruitcake
Who asks
"Will God come with us?"
Daisy King Aug 2013
Dear Daisy,, age 8, family fruitcake:
Keep at it, but don't feel proud about it.
Just keep going, because it's working.

Dear Daisy, age 11, addressed to boarding school:
You will learn something from this torture.
You will learn about forgiveness.

Dear Daisy, age 13, subject- your disappearing acts:
You are not ugly or undeserving or fat
or anything that she told you. I know you feel alone
but you could tell someone what's going and speak out
because you're not stupid if you open your mouth
and you ought to be more like what you want, not a clones.

Dear Daisy, age 15, congrats on the weight lost and gained!
You went through hell, and yes, you proved it
you can starve yourself, harm yourself, and tell lies very well
but you put the ones who love you through hell too
and you're lucky they love you anyways and for any whys
so just don't do it again.

Dear Daisy, age 17, subject: stop:
It is not your body that did this and  you did say no.

Dear Daisy, age 19, to UCL halls:
He deserves better and he's not right for you
and you're not the girl for him, you're pretending to be her
and you know it too-
You love him so much, so let him go.
That would be the kindest thing to do.

Dear Daisy, age 21, to Amber Ward, High Mental Health Institution:
You've been losing your mind for more than a year now
but you have looked and seen it's actually been far longer.
This is real now, and you haven't a clue who you really are.
With these new eyes, you can see you've made yourself up
since you were younger,
and you believed your act until it became true.
Don't look back and don't pretend you have't realised
what you can't un-see now, even though it was easier
back then when you didn't have to care.
And who knows? Maybe you will always feel this-
anxious and confused and scared,
but at least you're not fictional. You can become fact
so don't look back. That's the cowardly thing to do.
Just keep at it, like you did when you were 8
because it will work, and it will this time too
but then you were doing it for everybody else
and now, who the hell are you?

Dear Daisy, received yesterday:
don't stress and lose sleep for worrying
because you've got a Masters waiting and you don't want to get ill
and don't worry because tomorrow may be unthinkable
but it's coming. It always does,
so calm down and sit still.

— The End —