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I am a poetic bad boy
I am a poetic good boy
I'm a Poetic gutter snipe

Some words are good and cool
some crap and makes me fool
I'm a poetic guttersnipe

Read me if you want to
I don't give a f**k if you don't
for I am a poetic guttersnipe


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
you cannot be serious man
in what you say
that is what the brat
was heard to say

on the court he'd remonstrate
about the call
he objected to the linesman's
placement of the ball

you cannot be serious man
in what you say
that is what the brat
was heard to say

in tennis circles he had
a no good reputation
for engaging in
all manner of disputation

you cannot be serious man
in what you say
that was what the brat
was heard to say

unsporting behaviour
he'd frequently show
other competitors didn't much
like the tenor of his bow

you cannot be serious man
in what you say
that is what the brat
was heard to say

another of his ilk presently
applies the same guttersnipe stuff
he's a right royal smarty-pants
with his racquet's guff

you cannot be serious man
in what you say
that is what the brat
was heard to say
John McEnroe and Nick Kyrigos.
Jedd Ong Jan 2015
“Guttersnipe.”

Now I need clarify that I
Did a lot of white man pandering
When I told the admissions
Officers from Brown that

My grandfather’s
Language is quite
Smelly.

It isn’t.

And I am done romanticizing home
When there is nothing to.

Our language was but
Brevity,

And it got the job done and
**** I can’t
Explain all that in 150 words
That’s why I chose
“Guttersnipe”
For some dramatic effects I don’t
Know to be true.

Their language was dinner table,
And it brought food home,
And it brought smiles on faces
To kids that grew up knowing no other home,
And to men and women not knowing
Where home was and

Providing some level ground as to who what where
When how and why we were as we were:

Quietly walking,
Chinese settlers in
The Philippines.

It was our way of remembering
Who we were.

It reminded
Us that we

Weren’t greater than
Where we came from,

And that doesn’t make us
Any less great.

Hokkien is Hokkien:

My family still uses it
At the dinner table
To kick off conversations.
And pass the food.
I dramatized my college admissions essay describing where and how I grew up. Or rather ran out of words to do what I really wanted to say justice. Whatever. The point is that my life isn't as poetic or dramatic as I'd make it out to be sometimes - and that I'm still struggling to come to terms with that in the way I tell my stories. I mean, they're no less beautiful after all.

Oh, and for those who don't know - Hokkien is a Chinese dialect mainly spoken by residents of Fujian, which happens to be the origin of many Chinese-Filipinos, of which I am one.
Little Bear May 2016
Under a jesters hat in the court of kings
is a dancing peasant before the queen
such fine robes of purple silk do I wear
fancy that.. you pretty thing.
Such splendid tea parties with the finest of ladies
conversing gaily of the weather
and other such nonsense
things I know not
What utter tripe
guttersnipe
ne'er-do-well
pouring tea
Such dainty things the tailor brings
twirling in such finery
while the little piglet powders it's nose
and calls herself pretty
this former guttersnipe doth harbor no ill will
while lain in the gutter of this conventional ville
where some insomniacs take nigh quill
your plea 4 money, but a confession
   that my life like a bitter pill
shape n size like n opal battling uphill

monetary resources nil
yet surges of imaginative days with hew fill
me jet throw toll aqua lung gill
lug gin islands n tandem with my mind till
death dew eye part, but social security disability
   just barely amp pull - this no pitiful poetic swill.

at this juncture
   my self confidence fuels me with greater skill
2 take risks, such as reach out n smooth over
   ruffled n ridged feathers emanating
   from sputter ring unthinkingly sans my virtual quill
i.e. emails n such prods awareness
   2 maximize opportunities that could fill

a void - specifically a marriage bereft of compatibility -
   n figuratively i jumped in2 this drama OUT of desperation
   years ago when hot n ***** pangs would not chill
plus my then living mother n now octogenarian
   widower father raged against me, their sole
   soul less son, who daily they did flip their grill.
I.
They say,
Those who won't learn
the spirally past
are doomed to walk
its re-coiling paths
again, and I can't
argue with precedent.
I can point out,
my present and future
doubts, kneeling
down with guttersnipe
gifts and a candle
lit up to appease
history's stalking ghost.
What I really want
is to ***** it.

II.
They say,
This world's gotta date
marked expiry
and it's all set to go
sour with a big bang
or a small bust
out from the fridge
of twenty-twelve's
wintry chilling.
Lately, there have been
jumbo packs of weirdness
spilling onto
every last shelf,
but things got strange
long before the Mayans
began tying knots.

III.**
They say,
you can take the brutish
and dress them up
natty, extolling
their hirsute
vices in basso
profundo voices
till we all queue
back to ****** them.
I've heard the jingle,
but I'm drawn instead
to wisdoms spoken
by officials
not officially
allowed to speak.
Their off-the-record's nice
and scratchy.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
David R  Aug 2021
guttersnipe
David R Aug 2021
sliding down the gutter
sparkling pearl of rain
faster than camera shutter
its flowing down the drain

lost forever drop of blood
once as pure as snow
now intermingles with the mud
with iridescent glow

hermit, stranger, hides his face
in his mother's apron,
spirit, soul, of nameless grace
other-worldly patron

boots composed deriding eyes
trample overhead
and inner spirit withers, dies,
and now is lying dead

defenestration of all that's good
by world blacker than pitch
tainted saint of boyhood
lies defenceless in the ditch
BLT's Merriam-Webster Word of The Day Challenge
#defenestration
Third Eye Candy Mar 2015
" when you're spoken too, you're speaking... " she said
and the earth opened up and Silenced  me
like a gnat in chartreuse foam.
we live the wrinkle in time
that suddenly stops.
and believe the hurricanes
are not for us
to not
love.

we wed the whimper
of my goosebumps
to the bead of sweat
on your brow
and our sorrows
are Hallelujahs
swooning in the guttersnipe
of our sweet
descent.

the genuine artifice of our actual denial.
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
A flower girl tried to sell me a flower
picked from my own garden
a thin starving guttersnipe dressed so dour
my seldom emphatic heart granted my pardon

I gave her a tenner for the red rose
and told her to "keep the change"
she, now the subject of my next poetic prose
about the girl who makes my heart feel strange
Re: Thank You to unknown
   tom, ****, harry, tam, dame,
   or dana from the MHS Class of 77,
   though this alum
experiences public education
   within lower providence jurisdiction

as a ***
er - minimally partaking advantage
   of extra-curricular,
   collegiate, inter-mural,
   et cetera opportunities,

   no not even a figurative crum
well nigh convey an impression of being dumb
bull door, deaf, and blind (with out faith no more),

   nor passing love notes from
some anonymous girl, who
   (after leaving a teasing message
   informed asper getting a smart haircut

   in ninth grade civics class
   taught by Missus Comly
   (do not quote me on my
   power fully pointed excel lent spelling,
   telling nothing, when out of desperation
   I experience primal yelling)
this singular potential fledgling flirtation,

   the extent from student,
   who appeared morose and rather glum
exposing such vulnerability to be hum
millie hated, and bullied relentlessly,

   whereat i wish to be a little boy
   comforted by me mum
since that option out of the question,
   thus aye didst never meet Miss Mot Toe
   (e plumbs e num), perhaps cuz eye **** numb

body, mind and spirit triage as if inebriated by ***
imagining the fighting spirit within me to thumb
or rather "flip the bird" to those,
   this then anxiety prone

   metaphorically rolling stone
whose metaphorical diet of worms also included
   eating picked over sun bleached
   un beak coming road **** crow - how yum

me does that seem, but gnome hatter
   how grossly said foul dish
   spurred via carrion (an analogy
   representing verbal taunting

   best left for hitch cocked birds) didst not appeal
not in the least did i give nasty brutes a "what for",
twas fear of getting creamed, fricasseed, irradiated...

   sans to stand proud and tall
   (all five and a half feet, but blunted maximum height
   topped off just shy of seventy inches -
   in reference to yours truly) against bullies

to this very day such emotional repercussions congeal
asper anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, panic...,
   which physiological symptoms served psyche not to feel
and only of late (particularly with daily intake of about
   a half doe zen pharmacological prescription medications

   do check and induce schizoid personality disorder
   (the diagnosis encompassing,
   the gamut mental health issues) to heel
akin to a well trained service dog, which fractured

   psychological state i.e. garrison to pitch and toss
   upon the precarious tipping point i.e.
   surpassing the tipping point,
   where thy body electric doth keel,

which precarious state finds me socially awkward,
   and off kilter, and maybe this chap
   ought to take a page
   from professional athletes playbook,
   and take a knee qua to kneel

hence this improvisational explanation
   why yours truly felt discombobulated
   to attend the recently held reunion,
   now aye wanna axe something serious, and fur real,

which essentially constitutes whether
   a current list of 1977 students,
   who received their high school diploma
   could be sent to me, whereby at least one alumni
   could buffer end this contemplative, intuitive,
   and pence eave bowl dish guttersnipe wannabe with zeal.

hie haint gonna hold ma breath,
   neither let loose lips help miss ink moll itty bitty sinker agog
   nor wait fir any religious chief such as allah
boot nothing ventured...blah...blah...blog...blog...

adieu - - matthew scott harris
Re: Thank You to unknown
   tom, ****, harry, tam, dame,
   or dana from the MHS Class of 77,
   though this alum
experiences public education
   within lower providence jurisdiction

as a ***
er - minimally partaking advantage
   of extra-curricular,
   collegiate, inter-mural,
   et cetera opportunities,

   no not even a figurative crum
well nigh convey an impression of being dumb
bull door, deaf, and blind (with out faith no more),

   nor passing love notes from
some anonymous girl, who
   (after leaving a teasing message
   informed asper getting a smart haircut

   in ninth grade civics class
   taught by Missus Comly
   (do not quote me on my
   power fully pointed excel lent spelling,
   telling nothing, when out of desperation
   I experience primal yelling)
this singular potential fledgling flirtation,

   the extent from student,
   who appeared morose and rather glum
exposing such vulnerability to be hum
millie hated, and bullied relentlessly,

   whereat i wish to be a little boy
   comforted by me mum
since that option out of the question,
   thus aye didst never meet Miss Mot Toe
   (e plumbs e num), perhaps cuz eye **** numb

body, mind and spirit triage as if inebriated by ***
imagining the fighting spirit within me to thumb
or rather "flip the bird" to those,
   this then anxiety prone

   metaphorically rolling stone
whose metaphorical diet of worms also included
   eating picked over sun bleached
   un beak coming road **** crow - how yum

me does that seem, but gnome hatter
   how grossly said foul dish
   spurred via carrion (an analogy
   representing verbal taunting

   best left for hitch cocked birds) didst not appeal
not in the least did i give nasty brutes a "what for",
twas fear of getting creamed, fricasseed, irradiated...

   sans to stand proud and tall
   (all five and a half feet, but blunted maximum height
   topped off just shy of seventy inches -
   in reference to yours truly) against bullies

to this very day such emotional repercussions congeal
asper anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, panic...,
   which physiological symptoms served psyche not to feel
and only of late (particularly with daily intake of about
   a half doe zen pharmacological prescription medications

   do check and induce schizoid personality disorder
   (the diagnosis encompassing,
   the gamut mental health issues) to heel
akin to a well trained service dog, which fractured

   psychological state i.e. garrison to pitch and toss
   upon the precarious tipping point i.e.
   surpassing the tipping point,
   where thy body electric doth keel,

which precarious state finds me socially awkward,
   and off kilter, and maybe this chap
   ought to take a page
   from professional athletes playbook,
   and take a knee qua to kneel

hence this improvisational explanation
   why yours truly felt discombobulated
   to attend the recently held reunion,
   now aye wanna axe something serious, and fur real,

which essentially constitutes whether
   a current list of 1977 students,
   who received their high school diploma
   could be sent to me, whereby at least one alumni
   could buffer end this contemplative, intuitive,
   and pence eave guttersnipe wannabe with zeal.

hie haint gonna hold ma breath,
   nor wait fir any religious chief such as allah
boot nothing ventured...blah...blah...blog...blog...

adieu - - matthew scott harris
while figuratively hunting
and pecking around me noggin
force hum theme to write about
lo and behold, the solution
stared me right in front
of my little **** nub nose with gentle clout

cuz, as an avid bookworm, the dictionary,
I enjoy expending hours
to drink up etymological history
relating to the origin and
historical development of words

and their meanings.
with no shadow of a doubt
and most times, this animatronic,
the technique of making and operating

lifelike robots, typically for use
in film or other entertainment
dogmatic, enigmatic fugee dooby
brother beastie boy
(actually a mwm) dislikes to flout
his abilities, hobbies, interests,

as aches hike kant imagine being treated for gout
a disease in which defective metabolism
of uric acid causes arthritis, especially
in smaller bones of the feet, deposition
of chalkstones, and episodes of acute pain.

Boot lemme return full circle
to thematic core curriculum aye started to aim
and express gratitude
to the ghost of Noah Webster,
who gets credit yet also blame

if some snide haughty guttersnipe,
some slovenly individual feels snubbed,
and hence, living personage, said descendent(s)
of oblivion, whatever unknown
man or woman to living persons

stake a valid claim
that his/her many generations removed
heir (Harris), and or heiress ancestor (proven
with tangible researched reportage,
then cited with countless
prestigious explorers of English language),
that a daunting scrivener perhaps

even a courtesan or rich dame
rightfully ought to receive the fame,
thus such living relative might
upend the huck cult personality be game
to dare challenge secure historical niche

ambitiously held by Mark Roget (1779–1869),
British physician, natural theologian
and lexicographer. It was released
to the public on 29 April 1852.

The original edition had 15,000 words,
and each new matured edition
of the Thesaurus grew larger.

— The End —