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Anton Kooistra Feb 2016
Love the little worm
Just as unbecoming
Look in the mirror.
My words are ugly
My body is ugly
and selfish actions.
Why people
It was the people.
In a parallel universe.
a stray hair,
Ugly wars go on endlessly …
And from that, ugliness was born
Get perished anytime …
Ugly
Simply because they are greedy and
Love the little spider
But it’s often the people
***** looks,
...I told you I was
We really are living
They become even more jumbled than they were before.
A lot of graves are dug for those
My breaths are ugly
But when words go to leave my head
A crooked tooth,
Love the little pig
hateful words
an extra pound?
its thin silken web
I am ugly
My words on a page
small zit,
Mistakes
For you
It was only until now that
A lot of pretty innocent people 
My face is ugly
Are ugly ink blots,
It's my greatest fear
Beautifully Ugly
An ugly war goes on
Why cant I speak beautifully?
My actions are ugly
What's Ugly?
With all its self conscious nature
I wish I could say
Wars' traders don't care
My soul is ugly
Ugly
Offers such beauty
beautiful is ugly.
That make it ugly.
To find me ugly too
Who naturally spins
What's ugly?
When any ugly war breaks out , then
My thoughts are ugly
Will be lost as an ugly outcome …
When I was a kid I
were ugly is beautiful
This world we live in
Who is so happy
Coward at the same time …
Ugly
My mind is ugly
just to play in the mud
Makeup will only go so far to hide an ugly heart.
I understand.
Ugly VS Beautiful
About human lives
And terrible.
Just what I mean
They would call it boring,
It wasn’t the place,
Peace is The pretty alternative to any ugly war …
I am ugly
And ugly
 We live in a world
Would beg to leave this place.
Didn’t understand
Love Ugly
Once, someone was called beautiful
No, I will tell you what's ugly.
As the scars on my wrist.
and
Randomized from poems found under the tag "Ugly". https://soundcloud.com/anton-kooistra/love-the-little-worm
Aa Harvey  Apr 2018
Pretty ugly
Aa Harvey Apr 2018
Pretty ugly


They claim she’s beautiful; I wanna watch her fall,
Because she sold her soul and now I just want her type to go!
Plastic surgery; left her with a ruined nose,
Her heart has decomposed and a---ll I can scream is n---o!!!


She has a striking face;
Shallow beauty is a disgrace.
They say she must be idolized;
No!  She must be improved upon
And replaced!


She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly to a loser who looks like me.
She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly to a loser who looks like me.


Where are the nice ones?
I hate the rich ones!
The golden age of beauty has come and gone
And all that is left, to use, are the blondes!


I hate vanity!  I have vanity;
I hate everything that you have done,
To challenge me with your beauty.


She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly to a loser who looks like me.
She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly to a loser who looks like me.


She lacks sympathy; I lack mercy!
There is no dignity in selling your body to a magazine page.


These are just my conscious thoughts;
Where are the pretty souls?
There is nothing left inside to hide
And all we have to use are these knowledge bombs of rage.


(Repeat these lines as the song becomes quieter and fades out.)

She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly,
Yeah she’s s---o,
Very, pretty, ugly.
She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly,
Yeah she’s s---o,
Very, pretty, ugly.
She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly,
Yeah she’s s---o,
Very, pretty, ugly.



(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
THE RAT AND THE PREGNANT WOMAN


A story poem

BY

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)



Dedicated to;
My mother Neddy Nabisino Mayende Kuloba Makhakara
And her mother Maritini Nabengele Nasenya Mulemia Namugugu Ilungu wa Wenwa.
The story telling power of these two ladies is the primary source of my passion and love for humorous and peace bettling stories. I owe them all the recognitions.







OPENING SONG
How do I start telling this story that I got from my
Grandmothers when sited around the fire yard in the evening?
I don’t know how to start surely,
For to day I am very shy; all of your eyes
Are on me, looking at me like ocean of looking organs
But let me embolden my self with the belt
Of a story teller that my grand father gave me
And commanded me to preach peace
Through story telling in every place I go
So my spiritual service to humanity is telling stories
Is to soothe and heal wounds of humanity
By softly telling peaceful stories
Let me then cough to clear my voice and start;

Long time ago, but not very long time
Some where between the centuries of twelve hundred
And seventeen hundred after the death of the other Jewish
Story teller who died without a wife, who died on the cross
But others say he died on the stake, his name was Jesus,
There existed only two kingdoms in land which is known today
As Bukusu land found in the present east Africa or Indian Ocean coastal Africa,
The first occupants of this vast land is the sons and daughters of Babukusu
Or the ones who like selling ironsmith products
And hence the name the people of Bukusu; the people who sell,
The two kingdoms were the Kingdom of muntu and the kingdom of manani
The citizens in the kingdom of muntu were short men and short women
Handsome and beautiful, slender and not assertive in their physical disposition
But the citizens of the kingdom of manani were all cyclopic,
In their everything; the manner of walking, talking farting, micturating
Farming, breathing, snoring, smiling, singing, whispering
Their whisper was a noisy as the tropical thunderclap
They were tall men and tall women, very tall
Their young person was as short as the tallest
Person in the kingdom of muntu,
When one of the citizen of manani snores
All the citizens of Muntu along together with,
Their king Walumoli wa Muntu had no option
But remain awake throughout the night,
Because the cacophony of a snore from
The sleeping courts of Manani was not bearable,

On many occasions Walumoli wa Muntu
The conscientious king of the muntu kingdom
Had arranged to talk to Silinki wa Namunguba
The ostensible king of the Manani Kingdom
About the cacophonous sleep robbing
Snores of daughters and sons in neighbour kingdom of Manani
Only to cow and chicken away in a feat of prudence
Lest Silinki wa Namunguba will suspect him for being
A night runner or a thief of *** perhaps
Who roams his compound during the wee of the night
In hunt of any of Namunguba’s wife maybe
Perchance having gone out for a mid-night *******,
This is how legendary snores of the sons and daughters
Of Silinki wa Namunguba the king of Manani
Has remained unchecked for ever till today,

One time an ugly passer by happened to be seen
Traversing the kingdom of muntu
In the early afternoon some two
Hours after Walumoli the king
Had just cleared the last plate
Of the mid day meal from
His last wife Khatembete Kho Bwibo Khakhalikaha Nobwoya
He always eats her food last in the afternoon
Because it comes on the table steaming youthfulness
He loves his Khatembete wife, the wife of his old age
The wife he married by use and show of the royal regalia
The powers and dignity of the king of muntu
He married her when he his a king, the scepter in his hand,

Going back to the ugly passer by
It was never known where he came from
Not from the east where the Indian Ocean is
Not from the west where the vastness of the land
Of black people of Baganda and Bacongo
Baigbo and Bayoruba or Bafulana of Nigeria
Or the sons of Madiokor Ngoni Diop in the Senegal,
Not from the south from shaka the Zulu and Mandella the wise one
Not from north in the land of Dinka and Nuer, Ethiopian Jewish and the Egyptians,
The passerby was ugly and from no where, in a dress and
A very ***** dress that fumed out a malodorously stenching reek
He was a man in attires of a woman; this was a taboo in the land of muntu
He was left handed and a heavy weight stammerer, with an appalling
Protuberation of   a hunched back, an enormous hunchback
Enmassing entired of his masculine shoulders,
When the wind blew his loose dress followed it
Leaving the man’s thighs and then bossom naked,
Leading bystanders to a strange discovery; he was not circumcised
He was old like any other father, he had beards
But not yet circumcised, his ***** ends in corkscrew of a sheath,
This was a taboo in the land of muntu, in the kingdom of muntu
Which Walumoli wa Muntu the son of Mukitang’a Mutukuika ruled
For the spirits, gods and ancestors as well as foremen of the kingdom
Behooved that all male offsprings of the kingdom of muntu
Whether born in marriage or out of the wedlock
Born the blood or born as a ******* must and must be
Circumcised in the early teen hood
They must be circumcised before they grow the hairs
On the face, on the chest, in the scapula and on the areas
Surrounding the testicles, the **** and the endings of the backbone,
The man again had six fingers on the legs and on the hands
He walks slowly like a porcupine, his dress was in tartars
He was violent to every one he met
Insulting old people and old women with words
Of bad manners not used in the kingdom of muntu,
He terrified and beat young children, including the royal children
And grand children of Walumoli the king of muntu
He again had to beat and chase nine young virgins
Who had come from the palace of Walumoli the king of Muntu
Away from the forest when they picking fire wood
As well as playing a game of hide and seek with other palace lads,
The ugly passer by then chased to get hold of the
Nalukosi the first born daughter of
Khatembete Kho Bwibo Khakhalikaha Nobwoya
The beloved last wife of the king of Muntu
All other virgins ran home, but Nalukosi remained behind
In the inextricable grip of the ugly passer by
She screamed with hysteria of a hypochondriac
She screamed and kicked with her wholesome mighty
The stubborn passer by never left her alone
She gnawed the ugly passer by with
Her girlish claws of her fingernails
But is like the passer by was mentally disordered
He was a ******* of some time
He derived some pleasure and instead
Enjoyed the girlish scratches of his captive,
Before the eight running virgins reached the palace
Together with their companions, the playmate lads
The shrilling scream of the captive Nalukosi
Was sharply heard at the palace, first by King Walumoli
Who called his wife Khatembete Kho Bwibo Khakhalikha Nobwoya
To come out of the hut, the kitchen and help to listen,
Immediately Mukisu wa Mujonji the palace keeper surfaced
His face displayed genuine askance of an adept military man
Whose martial arts have rusted for a week without usage
He confirmed to the king that the cry from the forest
Is of the one from this royal home of your majesty the king
And none other than the ****** princes Nalukosi Mukoyonjo
The pride of her father, the eye of the palace,
Without hesitation the king permitted the wallabying Mukisu ,
Permission to run in a military dint and find out whatever that
Was eating Nalukosi Mukoyonjo the familial heart of the king,
Mukisu wa Mujonji who was clearly known in the kingdom of muntu,
For his swift running like a desert kite, he already twice chased
And gotten single handedly two male gazelles,
Without aid of a dog nor aid of fellow hunters
And delivered them to the king as a present to the palace
Which he achieved because of the speed of his legs,
On this royal permission he unsheathed his matchette
And went away like any arrow from the bow
His shirt trailing behind him like mare’s tail
Or like the flag on the post on a windy day,
Not a lot of time passed.
Mukisu wa Mujonji is at the spot of struggle,
Between Nalukosi and the Ugly passerby
There was no question or talking,
The first thing was Mukisu to sink the Matchette
With all of his mighty into the tummy of the ugly stranger
The bowels of the ugly stranger opened puffwiiii!
He breathed and gasped twice then succumbed to death.
His grip still strong on the leg of Nalukosi Mukoyonjo
The ugly passer by reached the rigor Mortis
When Nalukosi was still strongly gripped in his
Beastly hand, Mukisu wa Mujonji with all the skills
Used a Sharp matchette again; chopped of the hand
Of the ugly dead passer by off, from its torso
At the point of the muscular elbow,
Now Nalukosi was extricated, but not fully
From the grip of the dead ugly stranger,
The chopped off hand is still knotted at her leg
Around her leg, the dead hand also grips.
Nalukosi jumped here and there to throw away
The leg and the dead hand, but it was not easy to throw
The hand still stubbornly gripped around her angle,
*** time passed, each and every one of the kingdom came
Including the king Walumoli wa Muntu himself
And his nine wives, Khatembete Khobwibo Khakhalikha Nobwoya
Came last, as she was energyless due to rudely shocking tidings
Which the escaping virgins and lads had given her
That the ugly passer by had turned into the ogre
And had swallowed her daughter Nalukosi
That he had swallowed her piecemeal without chewing,
People of muntu came and found the ugly passerby dead
The left had chopped off its torso
But still hanging loosely on the leg of Nalukosi
Nalukosi jumping, kicking, screaming
Screaming away the dead hand from the grip of leg
But nothing had forthcame her way,
Walumoli wa Muntu could not afford to see
The hand on the leg of her beloved daughter
What could he tell his wife, is your all know
Dear reader and audience to this song;
Even the mighty and the wise ones
Generously bend when under the pressure of love,
Out of this dint, even before Mukisu wa Mujonji
Could display his next military card
Walumoli wa Muntu grapped the dead hand
That stuck of the leg of her daughter
And pulled it with another force that
No man born of woman has
Never used since the creation of the earth
By the gods and spirits of Muntu,
The hand come off, he throw it
On the cadaver of the ugly stranger,
He clicked and clicked and hissed
With anger like a wild turkey
In the African thorny forest,
He ordered the dead one to be buried
Their without haste, nor ceremony
Mukisu wa Mujonji buried the body
Quickly in a brief moment with precision
As if he was taking notes
From the lines of the poem
OF Pablo Neruda on how
To bury a dog behind the house
This time burying an ugly stranger
Behind the forts of the kingdom,
After all these women, children and men
Of muntu plus their king Walumoli
Went back to their houses hilariously
Broken into a song and a wild *** dance;
Makoe eehe! Makoe !
Nifwe Talangi Makoe !
Talangi!
Khwaula embogo sitella
Nifwe Talangi!
They sang up to midnight before
They all retired to their beds
Respective beds with panting thoraces
From heavy singing and dancing.

There is connection and disconexion between
The living and the dead, the living fear the dead
And dead loves the living,
The dead want the company of the living
For the living to accompany in the land of the dead,
When the ugly stranger was killed
And buried uncircumcised with the hunch
Not plucked out of his back
The gods and the livings dead
In the realm of the ancestors
Of the kingdom of Muntu were not happy,
They never wanted uncircumcised old man
With a hunch back to join them
And worse enough with the six fingers,
The gods and ancestors really god annoyed
That Walumoli wa Muntu has done them bad
He is only caring for the living, the pre-mortals
Especially his last wife and the daughter
But he has neglected the ancestors,
Why trash to ancestors a stark humanity,
They communed among themselves
And resolved to sent Namaroro
The god of dreams, dreams as messages
From the ancestors and dreams from the gods
Namaroro visited Namunyu Lubunda the palace
Prophet in the Kingdom of Muntu to pass
The message vesseling unhappiness of the ancestors
And gods in a blend of gloomy read to execute
A vendetta;
This is when in the wee of the night that Namunyu Lubunda
Dreamed and had a vision of a old man from
The east is warning of the coming long spell of starvation
That will befall the kingdom of Muntu for ten years
                                      That Namaroro told Namunyu Lubunda
As for ten seasons of foodlessness
Behold a begging kingdom
Behold a starving throne,
The scepter of Muntu is a disgrace
To the holder
Then Namunyu Lubunda set forth by dawn
To the Palace to meet Walumoli wa Muntu
In his, palace before any other royal chores come up,
Both good and bad luck combined
Only to have Namunyu Lubunda to get the king at the palace
He got him fresh and relaxed chewing the cup of fortune
In his full ego, all his wives had submitted to the morning dishes
To his dining hall in the palace, he moved his hands from
One plate of food to the other.
Namunyu Lubunda entered with a submissive salutation
To the royal, He bowed and declared the glory of the king
In typical standards of the ethnic composition of the house of Muntu
Walumoli wa Muntu Mukitang’a Mutukuika
Majave Kutusi Mbirira Omwene esimbo ya
Kumukasa,
Walumoli responded with a feat of dignity to Namunyu Lubunda
The palace prophet, as he roared to him; come in
Come in son of Lubunda son of our people,
He did mention the name of Namunyu Lubunda father
As he fears his words may escape with the power
Of his kingdom the scepter of Muntu
To other insignificant families in the kingdom,
Let me announce what brings me here; intoned Namunyu
Go ahead and announce my holiness
s the prophet of this kingdom; responded Walumoli,
Misfortune is awaiting the kingdom
It will eat this kingdom away
Like a ravenous hyena on the ewe’s tail
The ancestors and the spirits of this land
This kingdom of yours the son of Muntu
Are immensely offended with your recent behaviour
In which you commandeered all villages
In your kingdom; from east and west
The **** the innocent passer by
With your owner hands that handle the scepter
You killed and lay to rest the foreigner
A pure omurende to the kingdom of muntu
You buried him uncircumcised without contrite
In the cemeteries of our foremen who asleep and circumcised
Why did you lower the dignity of our forefathers
Who never share a roof with uncircumcised person
To share the ancestral realm; our emagombe
With hunchback foreigner not circumcised?
This kingdom is condemned to all spell of curse of death
Ceaseless hunger famines and starvation
Women dwindle in their reproductive capacity
Rarely will you come across a pregnant woman
Food will be difficulty to put on the table
Even the sweat of your brow will go to naught,
You will not be buried with insignia
Like a pauper you killed will you be buried
The house of your wife Khatembete Kho Bwibo
Khakhalikha no bwoya is a house of no consequences
For even your daughter Nalukosi stands cursed
She will not mature to be wedded into a marriage
She will hover the earth under heavy agonies of hunger,
My assignment is done and over
With or without your permission let me go.









THE FIRST SONG
Our song continues dear brethren
Come join me in arms we sing
Joyous singing of these songs of peace
Telling the world peaceful stories
As we enjoy sitting together around my grandmothers fire yard
Warming our selves to her lovely fire inherent in her good stories,
These songs will sing the glory and success of the king of Manani
It is an irregular Ode to Silinki wa Namunguba the son of Mwangani,
The son of Tunduli, the son of Wajala Njovu, the son of Welikhe, the son
Of manyorori, the son of Chumbe, the son of Kajo, the Son of Mabati, the son of welotia,
The son of sikele sia mulia, the son of Toywa,the son of siruju, the son of Mango, the son of Mulwoni sinyanya Bakhasi, the son of Mbakara , the son of Makhakara wa Nambuya, the son of Mukoye mulala kukhalikha w0nga, the son of Zumba the son of God.
Silinki
Purcy Flaherty  Feb 2018
Ugly
Purcy Flaherty Feb 2018
My wife is ugly,
So very ugly,
My wife is ugly,
But she’s my honey bee!

Every time I settle down,
She goes down town.
She strikes a pose,
And barks out orders,
Sets a light to troubled waters,
She’s my honey;
My sweet valentine!

When the boats a rockin’,
Don’t you come a knocking!
Don’t you come a rapping at my door!
For we’ll be body poppin’,
And just like Mary Poppins;
You’ll hear my honey,
Crying out for more!

Rough, tough and ugly;
She’s my honey bee!

My wife is ugly,
Oh so very ugly,
My wife is ugly~
She’s got hairs between her toes!

My wife is ugly,
oh so very ugly,
Pig  ugly~
~She’s got teeth where her eyes should be!

My wife is ugly,
Oh so very ugly,
My wife is ugly~
~She’s got things swingin’ between her knees!

My wife is ugly,
Oh so very ugly,
My wife is ugly~
But she will always be my sweet honey bee!


Song link below
https://youtu.be/WlpqVSOVwTA
I was watching Louis Theroux's Weird Weekends
and there was an episode on prostitution and so I wrote this!
Mark  Jan 2020
Isn’t It Ugly?
Mark Jan 2020
Although, I never thought of those who shed a little tear  
Flowing like a stream, then await for some comfort, they preserver  
Need a word of advice, but can't find anyone so sincere  
Want to change your life, then embrace the people so dear  
  
Isn't it ugly, to be who you are?  
Heart of an impostor, you’re acting as bad, as a B grade movie star  
Isn't it ugly, to be who you are?  
Body held together by mortar, you're falling apart, like a shooting star  
Isn't it ugly, to be who you are?  
Face made of stone, no expressions like Mona Lisa, that famous painted star
Isn't it ugly, to be who you are?  
Tongue coated in snake oil, you're faking it, just like a **** star  
Hear me tell you, what you really are  
Here, listen to the truth  
Isn't it ugly, ugly, ugly?  
  
Need a word of advice, but can't find anyone so sincere  
Want to change your life, then embrace the people so dear  
  
Isn't it ugly, to be who you are?  
Heart of an impostor, you’re acting as bad, as a B grade movie star  
Isn't it ugly, to be who you are?  
Body held together by mortar, you're falling apart, like a shooting star  
Isn't it ugly, to be who you are?  
Face made of stone, no expressions like Mona Lisa, that famous painted star
Isn't it ugly, to be who you are?  
Tongue coated in snake oil, you're faking it, just like a **** star  
Hear me tell you, what you really are  
Here, listen to the truth  
Isn't it ugly, ugly, ugly?
Having a good old hard look at yourself.
Silence  Aug 2015
I am ugly
Silence Aug 2015
I am ugly.
Maybe not in the way the human race perceives the word, but in the way I perceive the word.
I am ugly,
whether that is in the way I smile, look, dress or the way I see the world.
Maybe,
life isn’t about seeing the yourself as beautiful; maybe it’s about seeing yourself
as ugly,
as dull,
as plain,
as unappealing as it is and still, above all of that,
loving everything ugly, dull, plain and unappealing.
I don’t mind being ugly,
because ugly is what I want to be.
You hear someone say the word ugly and you think negatively. Ugly, in my mind, is even better than beautiful.
Everything has beauty, but only real things have flaws.
Being ugly is not about being unappealing to the eye,
but being appealing to the heart.
I embrace the fact that I am and always will be ugly.
I like it that way.
I am full of flaws.
I have crawled my way out of hell and got a little banged up along the way,
whether that is what someone means by the word ugly I am okay with that.
I am banged up.
I am flawed.
I am imperfect, defective, faulty, distorted, inaccurate, incorrect, erroneous, imprecise, fallacious and most of all ugly.
The most shocking part of all of this is that,
you are too.
Perri  Nov 2021
ugly
Perri Nov 2021
Ugly ugly ugly
I can only assume
How you think of me
While I lay naked in our room
I'm hungry
Starving
For a touch
Of strength and admiration
Ugly ugly ugly
This is deprivation
Ugly ugly ugly
I beg to please you
Every touch seems new
4 years of cold
I've been waiting in our room
Ugly got ugly
And I'm only left to assume
Ugly ugly ugly
Your attraction to me is doomed
Idk what to do anymore
Ember Evanescent  Nov 2014
UGLY
Ember Evanescent Nov 2014
To you ugly means unpopular
To you ugly means make-upless
To you ugly means not into the same stuff you like
To you ugly means different
Well to me ugly
Means being popular and only caring about that
And flaunting it
And shoving it in the faces of those who are unloved
Stepping on people to get yourself to the top
To me ugly means wearing makeup on your soul
Covering up your true identity with metaphorical makeup so much thicker than the foundation and concealer and eye shadow I don’t wear
To me ugly means liking things ONLY because everyone else does
To me ugly means being a monotonous replica of everyone else, just another plastic Barbie doll with zero values and zero love in your heart, not being YOU
To me ugly, is telling someone else they are ugly.


REPOST if you have a DIFFERENT DEFINITION OF UGLY
Joe Milton  Dec 2012
Ugly and Dim
Joe Milton Dec 2012
In a land where only rich folk have chins; lived  a man. Ugly and Dim. He was as bright as a flashlight in the afternoon hours. A terrible thing, having thoughts devoured. A drought crossed the land where Ideas once grew now lies a place for neither me nor you. We heard of boy. Quiet wealthy, quiet rich, but deep down a real sonofabitch, who rode ‘gainst the grain and then disappeared. Never to be heard of again.  What a shame to lose the lose the mind of young Ugly and Dim.

I heard a tall tale, or call it a fable; for the lessons quite clear.
It’s a lesson about Ugly and Dim, two brothers in fact who had such an act at the travelling magical show. Dim had the knowledge and Ugly had the looks.
They’d learned their tricks from the book called Don’t Pay Your Dues, and they wound up  all burnt .Except their shoes. Which stood centre stage, where would-be magicians light up in flames, a blaze of ashes.
Such gasps from the crowd as Ugly and Dim began to singe,
and turn crisp and begin to burn, that’s how they fried.
Some soul cried
“I can’t tell if they’re dead or alive!”
As the skin slipped over the skeletal bones
Ugly and Dim were exposed.
Liars and tricksters of illusion will meet an ill-fated conclusion.
Ugly and Dim will see you again, in your moments of moral confusion.

Ugly and Dim; the architects of such modern wonders of
“How things are today!” and “How they oughta be!”
Over 1 million copies of “It’s a you or me mentality!” sold!
Ugly and Dim are ever so bold for the romance  novel: “How Love Gets Old”
Ugly and Dim are you and him,
or her and I, and us  and them.
Sometimes I cry. I’m ugly.
Sometimes I don’t know answers, I’m dim
Sometimes I wake up and I make it through another day.
Jester  Feb 2018
The Vulgar Art
Jester Feb 2018
Ugly is beautiful, ugly is under the pretty skin and colors we wear.

When one thinks of art and the beauty of words it must always sound nice, it must follow and follow traditional laws of language;
**** that.

Art is an expression of self and soul is it not?
Humans don’t all have beauty in them, humans don’t always have some wonderful soul or righteous heart, so why should all art show the beauty of life?

Why not mock the beauty? Why not admit that sometimes we’re ugly, sometimes we’re crass, cold and vile?
Are we not all we are? Do our life experiences not shape and make us?

Life is not perfect and we all have pitfalls, everyone is flawed yet when it comes to art we deny the fact and mask it by saying “art reflects the tragedy” or “I use art to express my pain” and in that way, we make it romantic, but what if, we just showed it as it is.
What if we just said exactly what we’re feeling, what we’re thinking, what we want?

Must we use the beauty of words and paint and rock to hide our shame, or fear, to mask our greed and lust?
Sometimes people aren’t pretty, sometimes they have no soul, so what if some art was ugly?

What if I didn’t use proper words or language
Or started to; break up words by what-ever means I saw fit for the piece?

It would confuse, it would anger, it would look bad.
But that would be closer to human than always trying to turn some act of woe into some poetic moment.
For a moment reject the beauty, reject the urge to be clever or pristine, smear some mud across the page, ugly can be beautiful in itself because ugly is just that.

You are not the best, you are not the best looking, the fastest, the strongest, smartest, you do not know everything- so it would make sense that art at times should be flawed, that art should be ugly and broken, that art should offend you at times.
There is a humbleness to be found in ugly art, in art that is raw and exposed.
Once you take away the fluff that people are attracted to, once you strip her down and expose what she is, you may find that while some art is a flawless figure in her **** skin- other art may be torn, ripped and festering with disease but she’s not hiding anything in that moment- and on top of that. She doesn’t care.
Why should every poem sound nice?
Why should art have rules and laws?

Of course, we must have laws and standards, of course we must have laws and rules HOWEVER in times and for somethings- breaking that mold, stepping outside of the box, that is needed.
I say ugly art hides nothing and shows everything, pure surface value with no hidden meaning or deeper philosophy, which won’t do for some people.

Some people will rip art apart to understand its meaning refusing to believe in face value because they can’t understand the face value of ugly, they have to have something pretty, they have to have something clever or witty or something they can cling to as being elite as if that somehow places them above the social stature at which they reside.

Trust in ugly art, trust in unpoetic words, trust in blemished statues, trust in unpolished raw music, trust in ugly from time to time.
From the upcoming book IV
sabella Jul 2013
Sorry not a poem more of a sort story .


Do you know what it's like to be ugly never to feel beautiful. To be the ugly one. To be caste aside pushed down and beaten. Just because they say your not beautiful. Your the ugly one. Do you know the pain of being thrown away with the trash and how much the loneliness consumes you. Dragging you to the darkness. Those names that tear  you to pieces.
The your ugly how can you show your face.
The your a no buddy why are you here.
The you are the most disgusting thing i have ever seen.
The I can't believe your parents keep you after they seen your face.
The you should just **** your self  just die no one would even notice that you did.
The laughing the whispering over and over again.
You never belonging any where.  Never having a friend just someone to talk to. Someone that believed in you . Someone that didn't think you'r ugly.  Someone that would save you. But no.
Your just always wishing that someone would save you. Praying please just this time please god help me make them stop please just this once please save me. I can't do this any more all this pain and emptiness why can't i be saved why can't i be loved . As you lay there on the grown bleeding beaten crying screaming for your life no one comes.
You ask your self as you lay there not able to move in so much pain.
WHY    WHY what did you ever do to deserve this for all these years all this pain WHY
Why have I been left alone in the darkness.
Why just because i'm not beautiful in there eyes.
Please tell me why i was born this way why is the world this way.
Alone ugly beaten as my soul begins to go black being pulled into the darkness.
Why can't i be saved.
No never for you always   always alone and ugly.
There hate. There words filling your body with nothingness and hear them over and over again never ending in you mind they just play over and over cutting into your soul take the very life out of you.
Pushing you deeper and deeper onto the edge pushing tell there is no where for you to go.
This.   This is the last time never will they beat you never will they make you bleed. Never will they make you feel pain.
So you clime and clime tell you reach the top of the water tower.
Finley you can be free.
Finely there will be no more pain.
Finley for the first time in years you can smile   looking up at the stars free.
I take that last steep falling to the grown as i look up at the stars. I smile spreading my arms out like i'm flying finely at piece. I feel i saved my self,      am I saved? Then it flashes no one well care no one well cry. You will never be missed. Now even before death your alone always and for ever alone.

There went that happy feeling. The feeling of being free of being saved gone just like that.
Some how it seems she had been falling for some time now in slow motion.
Now no more smiles just tears that run down her face.
Why this!   She can't even die happy and free from the pain. Why can't this  girl just be happy and believe just this once she is beautiful and free away from the pain just this time. How can they even take that from her.   Why?

Then smack something hits her arm and her body goes slamming into the wall.
With her tears streaming down her face she looks up and sees a bluer of a dark broad body hanging off the latter holding on to her so tightly.
The other one they called ugly. As she wipes her eyes with her other hand to dry the tears. She looks up at him she never looked at him before always looking at the ground afraid to look up but here and now she did. She doesn't  understand the man she sees is anything but ugly with the moon that lightens up his face and the wind gently blowing his hair he smile at her. She gasped and her face turns red. She sees just  How his smile makes her heart skip  how gently but strongly he is as he holds onto her. He speaks so softly to her this must be what they call fate were are here to save each other I was here to be free too, but us here at the same time. I know something brought us together. As i watched you falling you looked like an angel Spirit that lost her wings and i had to save you.  Because you are here to save me from my broken wings too. So forgive me i could not let you fall. Our soul spirits weaved flying together in the air.
  So what do you say. Should we let they fly together?  He said to her.   Her body trembling tears began to flow down her face  but with a smile that would light up the darkest part of hell.  
    He smiles back at her  and says i'll take that as yes. He pulls her into him and wraps  him arms around her holding her ever so tightly as she cry's. Just holding her he spoke so softly again to her I'll stay with you tell the end of time I well love you tell the end of my life. You well never be alone again.
Finely she was loved.
Finely never alone again.
Finely she was saved.
But no it was just the flash in her mind before she hit the grown.
There is NO LOVE NO HOPE NO GOD NO ONE GIVES A ****

— The End —