Many of my poems are snarky
And I know it.
Some things make me ******
And I show it.

Some people are beneath contempt
Puff out their chests, think they’re exempt
But at the bottom of it all, they’re ****.
They count on people at large to be dumb
And deaf and blind to their ugly tricks.
People give up thinking they can fix
The atrocities perpetrated on society.
They get physically sick at the impropriety
And villainy these criminals get by with;
Two tongues in each mouth politicians lie with.

Many of my poems are painful
And I know it.
Some things make me disdainful
And I show it.

I’d perhaps take up haiku poems or calligraphy
If there wasn’t so much ignominy around me.
My trusted representatives are lying to me
And are doing so daily with total impunity.
It’s disgusting and even more, its treason.
And most of the time, they have no reason
Other than rampant compulsions and greed.
So, what better excuse would they need
To betray every concept they claim to believe?
Is that why there’s never going to be a reprieve?

Many of my poems are political
And I know it.
Some things make me analytical
And I show it.

It works because we reward tinhorn crooks
And let them alter all our history books
To either pretend they never existed
Or to act like they ever have resisted
Any momentum to remove the rights
Of those who were not born white
Or rich, or straight, or Republican
Then, the next Congress starts again.
I’ll stop being a ***** about all this
When they stop offering their *** for me to kiss.

Many of my poems are snarky
And I know it.
Some things make me ******
And I show it.

At the end of the day, they will look for the worst version of you.
Good actions will be overlooked, and you will be taken for granted.
They will dig your soul for whatever it is they consider as dirt.
They will make you feel as if there is something wrong with you.
And you—you ask yourself what should be done.

You have not one, but two options.
Either you fight and go against the current,
Or become a slave of their judgments.

If you fight, expect that there will be more coming;
every stench of your soul will be revealed
and they will not stop
until they have dragged you down

And if you become a slave of their judgments,
you might think you are in peace;
But contrary to this, you have a bigger enemy.
Yourself.

Skin tingles
Blood boils
Life flashes
Burning midnight oil

Eyes twitching
Fingers scratching
Feet tapping
Tossing and turning

Pressure for perfection
Mind racing
Body pacing
Criticising every inch

Panic set
Calm exterior
Pressure
Pressure
Pressure
Of feeling inferior

The very first thing a poet should do
Is throw that ego in the bin.
For being Great, or finding fame and fortune
Should hardly be your goal.

Just say whatever you have to say
With passionate heart and Voice.
Forget about Perfection
As all is relative:
And simply be Inspired.

Don’t be a slave to rigid forms:
Variety is the key.
Pulsing rhythms may match the heart
But missing beats have clout.

Be respectful to other poets at all times
And always return their praise, where you can.
Never criticise in a negative way:
Always be positive and supportive.

Keep out of inter-poet politics:
Such a waste of time!
Just write and write and write and write:
I simply cannot help it!

Paul Butters

I need a teacher
to tell me that I'm great
at this writing thing
who will give me constructive criticism
and As
and gold stars or something

Or I at least need a teacher
to tell me that I'm terrible
and should revise
and demand more of myself
and hit the delete button
and do something else with my life

But now that I'm the teacher--
...how do I get better?

I AM A WOMAN PROUD AND STRONG
MY HAIR IS BLACK AND LONG
WHY DO SOME PEOPLE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH MY SKIN
LIKE IT IS A BAD CURSE OR A HORRENDOUS SIN

IT IS AN INSULT TO ME
WHILE I AM LABELED TO BE
THE ONLY THING BLACK IS MY HAIR AMONG OTHERS
SO WHAT IS THE DEAL MY DARK BROWN SKINNED BROTHERS

WHY DO YOU YELL PROUDLY
GET CRUNK AND SCREAM LOUDLY
STOP RISING IN ANGER, BUT END UP PUTTING YOURSELF IN DANGER
WHILE OTHER ETHNICITIES SOMETIMES TREAT US LIKE STRANGERS

SOME RACES DO NOT WANT TO ACKNOWLEDGE
SOME DARK BROWN PEOPLE WORK HARD AND GO TO COLLEGE
I DO NOT CONSIDER MYSELF BLACK AND THAT IS MY FACT
BUT WE ARE CALLED THAT BECAUSE OF HOW WE ACT

Your performance is to poetry,
What an ****** is to *** -
Finding gems like yours
Makes me go "YES, YES, YES!"