"airhead" poems
Life is an open book.
Time is an oscillating fan.
I've had to learn to skim-read because
before I can read more than a few paragraphs,
that ******* airhead comes circling back,
blowing pages like a medieval **********
The cool air feels nice, though.
Sometimes, when my head aches,
I let my eyes relax
and I enjoy the breeze as the words blur.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
They called her an attention ***** for the last time
As she put the gun to her stomach and pulled the trigger.
The fat girl
The bipolar girl
The depressed girl
The nymphomaniac
The airhead blonde
The discarded cheerleader
The broken hearted
The girl who cuts
The girl who cries
The girl who has a eating disorder
The girl who can't help herself
The girl who is always alone
The girl who gets yelled at
The girl who always gets *****
She just wanted love
But this is all she has
She has a cheating boyfriend
She has a horrible father
She has an abusive mother
She has a shattered heart
She has a numb mind
She has a lost hope
She has a sharp knife
She has a loaded gun
I'm sure they just wanted attention. I'm sure they were perfectly fine.
I'm sure they didn't need the helping hand. I'm sure they're just overreacting.
I'm sure she's dead. I'm sure you don't really care.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 3:07 PM UTC
Thailand ******
Can read my mind
See my desire
Feel my pain
Siam Halloween in nana klong toey
Thai delights even the ladyboys look good tonight they know how to **** over and survive using a cheap disguise
Hey forang you wanna **** me?
1000 baht short time curiosity.
I prefer real ladies with juicy butts
Flavored with beer and sangsom whiskey *****
Take me home beat me with your
**** asian Treats
Make me lick your ***** feets
Asian women are my lust filled desire
They sit on my face until I can't breath no more
Than make me pay for my ***** laundry
Soap me up and knock me down
Bangkok Thailand is my home town
I slither along the Sukhumvit soi 11, devoted to the ***** I'm in 7th heaven...
Her **** smells better than stupid blonde Suzy the airhead girl next door boring rubber doll
Asian toilet scrubbers turn me on the never heard of boring old vain Beverly hills ugly rodeo drive full of stuffy old hags high on ****** pills
Sad drag Beverly hills I lived in that phoney fake berg I love the ancient town Bangkok where my face gets slapped and hurt!
*** is a weapon.
****** are mans desire
Zeus fell in lust with a Greek goddess than expired?
Nasty ****** in Thailand make me hard
I become 18 again nothing else matters but fun with that wanna be ******
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
insults you throw
Why do you always insult me?
never anyone else?
I want to cry every time
your my family
your a adult
a parent
airhead
blonde
stupid
you don't even know what your doing
neither do the others
but it still hurts
it's not just you anymore
it now bonces around inside my head
beating me down
it's all in good fun
I know but it still hurts
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 10:56 AM UTC
She’s lovely and petite,
Long flowing blonde hair,
The target of constant
Unwanted attention,
The **** of many crude jokes.
Though you can’t deny it
There is a kernel of truth
To every stereotype.
Shallow. Yes she is shallow.
Shallow as the flood waters
Three inches deep, powerful
Enough to sweep your car
Into a watery grave.
Superficial. Yes she is superficial.
Superficial as the thin layer
Of paint on a Renoir or Monet
Colors translucent and divine
Deep and lustrous
Transporting the imagination
To a world of romance and joy.
Clueless. Yes she is clueless.
Clueless as Sherlock Holmes
As he solves a mystery as dark
And complex as any labyrinth
With nary a clue, save for a trail
Of breadcrumbs and a scent of
Gardenia.
Airhead. Yes she is an airhead.
An airhead like the thinnest of air
Atop the mighty Himalayas where
Holy men choose to transcend the
Mundane and commune with
Spirits subtle and ethereal and ultimately
Unknowable.
The world sees her beauty and perhaps
Only her beauty, but they are blinded
By their shallowness, superficiality,
Cluelessness and a brain wallowing
In the clouds of misty ignorance.
Therein lies the joke.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
what you see:
me, quiet and deadly still in a way that
i never am
staring into empty space or
at a blank wall. maybe i'm
counting cracks or cataloging creases.
you see me zone out—
such an airhead, that George is
i wonder what he's imagining
what i see:
ivory skin and hair as orange as
sunset, and she is as beautiful...
on the outside;
but on the inside, she is a
black hole.
she ****** me in
and i thought she was the light
at the end of the tunnel.
i must have been a traveller
stranded and thirsty in the desert
crawling towards mirages.
now i am helpless.
i am watching her line her legs with ink
as she tells me to make sure that she
doesn't line her legs
with blood.
meanwhile, i scratch deep
at an itch that isn't there
and call it catharsis.
i am seeing white tiles and
a translucent shower curtain and
a sink and soaps and everything is
normal—except the girl
sitting in a bathtub
naked without water
and bare skin has never made me feel more
ill.
what you hear:
ambient sounds.
my breathing, perhaps.
what i hear:
she hums like a Disney villain
brewing potions
and calling it tea. she looks
like a princess
but her words are witch's curses
and i'm hexed
under her spell,
hanging by a thread
to every word she's ever said
and somehow not noticing
the noose she looped around my neck.
darling, choke me
'til I can only breathe as well as your drowning lungs
as you gasp into your oxygen mask
what you see:
i'm having a panic attack.
what you hear:
i'm hyperventilating.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
Our land of stars and stripes, now glows,
with screens that flicker in hallowed halls.
Entranced humans shuffle, with eyes fixed below,
on small gadgets that have us enthralled.
Should the Statue of Liberty, our symbolic girl,
be holding a smartphone up to the world?
While tweets fly like eagles and hashtags swirl,
foreign disinformation trends as fast as it’s purled.
In lunch halls, real conversations take rest,
as influence is sought—in hoity-toity, binary quest.
Friends are backdrops—originality in short supply
as likes and shares make our dopamine fly.
America’s zombies, though *********** drained,
shuffle endlessly on, with Wi-Fi stimulated brains.
Once the land of the free, we’re now the land of tech
with minds wrecked by truths unchecked.
As we rock and sway—the new robot way—
will our old, analog-republic simply fade away?
.
.
Songs for this:
Airhead by Thomas Dolby
.
Oh, and a Christmas playlist because—it’s December!:
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_01.mp3
Dec 4, 2024
Dec 4, 2024 at 10:47 AM UTC
Wishing washy whimsy,
Hoping dreams aren't flimsy.
In cloud moons so ditzy.
Magic and creative,
Scatterbrained and native,
Impulsive, evasive.
Chasing rainbows always
Airhead bubbles. You stray
Light and fickle to play.
©Jacqui Slade
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
It could be the duchess
Or maybe the CEO
Or the media mogul
Who almost stole the show
Consider the brash *******
(He does look kind of shifty)
Then again there is the gambler
(Everyone calls him "Swifty")
Check out the carefree diplomat
With that fake smile but no charm
And then there's the airhead heiress
With tattoos adorning her arms
My money's on the senator
Always running, always winning
His wife seems kind of suspect too
With her endless mindless grinning
And then there is the debutante
Who flirted with the football star
And don't forget the pro golfer
Who spent so much time at the bar
But after all that guessing
Throughout the suspenseful show
Turns out the butler did it
...As if I didn't know!
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 10:33 AM UTC
Jesse, don't go insane and end up killing yourself someday
You don't know how much I'd love to become an uncle one day
Jesse, don't smoke crack or become an hollow airhead one day
Or you will end up begging for cash on Queen West someday
Jesse, don't get stressed from school in the winter
Or else your moods and your thoughts will
turn rotten and bitter
Jesse, only fall in love with a woman you can trust
Or else some **** could rip your heart in shreds
Jesse, don't end up ******* with the wrong person
You could end up stabbed, you could end up dead...
Jesse, forgive me if I am making this too awkward for you
Sometimes I am encouraged by some of the things you do
Jesse, sometimes I am saddened with the way things are
But I know if I want to go to someone, you are never far
Jesse, I know we don't talk often
But thank you for being my brother
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 6:17 AM UTC
They see the "cat scratches"
They see the bracelets
They see the long sleeves
I see the pain
They see an outcast
They see an "at risk" boy
They see a quiet child
I know the sadness
They see an airhead
They see red eyes
They see the lighter
I sense the fear
You are not alone
They just don't care
And can't tell what's burning inside
Like I do
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 6:21 PM UTC
One!
This kid was an airhead. Curly brown hair & piercing blue eyes. Big, toned arms. Bulky thighs. He was clumsy falling all over me. I could feel his saliva collecting into a pool on my tongue & eventually draining down my throat. Dime sized bruises coated his knuckles. He put them there. I kissed each one. But that was years ago... he barely remembers me now.
Two!
His hair was screaming for us to look from across the room when we first saw him. Deep blue & shoe polish black hues stemming from his scalp. But his voice shook on its way out and then trailed away before it hit our ears. When his shirt came up over his head he was nervous. And when it hit the floor, he was scared. A single file line of seven deep red gashes on his shoulder. He put them there. I kissed each one. But that was years ago... he barely remembers me now.
Three!
He was always laughing. He found comedy in tragedy and humor in hatred. His Mohawk, awkwardly tall. A pretty face underneath it all. Tired eyes when the smile fell & sadness behind the veil. Red and white blisters all over the tips of his fingers. He put them there. I kissed each one. But that was years ago... he barely remembers me now.
Four!
He was too old for me. Bored lips, creamy skin. Cold and drunk when I walked in. Well-read and unknown. He slipped under my sheets and wrapped his arms over my ribs. Two black & blue eyes staring into mine. He put them there. I kissed each one. But that was years ago... He barely remembers me now.
Five!
Vacant eyes. ***** hair. Strong arms. All dope-sick and wired. I heard him sigh into my neck like he was starting to think. Holes in his veins from the insides of his elbows, on down to his wrists. He put them there. I kissed each one. But that was years ago... He barely remembers me now.
Six!
Violent green eyes. Bloodshot, attentive and forgiving. He lifted me onto the sink. I've been here before. Between his warm arms and versed hands, the world was shutting out in the background. I had scars all over me. From my whining eyes to my breaking toes. I put them there. He kissed each one. He slipped inside, quietly. His lips begging me. He held his confusion at bay. He never let it show its face. But I crept into the rooms he shut doors in front of & found all of his loathing there. That was years ago & I wish I could forget him now.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 10:35 PM UTC
They didn't call it privilege
Mum said its called responsibility
they didn't call it money
Dad said its called overdraft from the bank
then they made you sign a contract
that ties you to your education
for the next twenty one years
with a rider that contains a Clause
that you are hanged from the mango tree
in the back garden if you fail any exams
They weren't called older sisters
they were Prison wardens controlled by Mum
dare misbehave and its solitary with no meals for your ***
They weren't known as older brothers
they were sadistic Policemen who had no Rule book
They was no sense of Entitlement
there was ****** do as you're told till you leave my house
and dare bring it to disrepute and watch yourself swing from the mango tree
there weren't alarm clocks
they was be on time in the morning for school
or go see Rev Slattery for six of the best
And then after all these
you meet the snowflakes whose mums do it all
wash, cook, iron and nurture without a mango tree
and these snowflakes signed no Contract to pass exam
and they have no Rev Slattery with a cane,
who would be recognized by them as the Pervert he was
and would now be doing Ten years at HM pleasure.
they have sisters and brothers that are mates
and have chips and Maccy D on tap
and a system that gives their parents money especially for them
not that overdraft that my father had from Barclays
And these airhead snowflakes and sociopaths
point ***** Maccy D fingers and fish and chips mouths
tell fairy Tales and fables about
Silver spoons and Privileges
about a sense of Entitlements
about Greed and opulence
Proving that comfort and easy life causes Brain Damage.....
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 6:29 PM UTC
Fellow Americans
Won't is not can't
We can end this tirade
This ignorant rant
******* crusade
This fearmongering
Xenophobic campaign
This point your fat finger
Take none of the blame
This **** flinging ape
This bombastic baboon
Rotting all of our brains
Like a ****** cartoon
This email distraction
For no course of action
Except the word "jobs"
And a Twitter war faction
This sick, twisted joke
This comedy act
Dropping the curtain
On matters of fact
This tax-dodging fraud
Has stolen from you
So what makes you think
You're a part of his coup
This billion-airhead
Makes no cents at all
He speaks his small mind
Behind a big wall
This nuclear bomb
To diplomacy's voice
Aborting the right
To democracy's choice
This false god complex
Disguises his devil
Deceptions to drag us
Back down to his level
This Molotov cocktail
In Putin's back pocket
His greedy heart froze
In a cold-plated locket
This coal-blackened soul
Toxic demagogue
Keeps poisoning us
By spewing speech-smog
This climate change hoax
Outweighs all the lies
Deny this one truth
And everyone dies
This you're fired show
Outsources our trust
To Chinese steel towers
Of slave-labor rust
This loaded handgun
To sanity's head
Depravity bullets
Promoting bloodshed
This locker room talk
This all Muslim ban
This election is rigged
This ******* madman
This antithesis
Of all we stand for
Great from our first steps
Onto Liberty's shore
So I beg of you now
Vote him off of the stage
This dog's had his day
Put him back in his cage
This nation was founded
By working together
And those who attempt
To divide us shall never
Condemn our ideals
To an amoral fate
Lest we forget
That love always trumps hate
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 2:52 AM UTC
I wish
Want
Need
Pray that...
I were brave as my friends
As fearless as my therapist
Have the power on my Consultant
The looks of Helena
A voice within me
Tells me to speak
The hurt that runs through me
Shuts me up
I pray for intelligence
So so bad
The mind of a airhead
Damaged beyond death
I wish for acceptance
Just run of the mill
Nothing outrageous
Just one of would sure do
Accept who you are
You're not changing for sure
How ever much you try
You'll never prove more
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 8:08 AM UTC
Maybe I'm just an old soul
Or a hopeless romantic
But what i need is far more than physical
Tell me what your favorite book is
Instead of all the ways you can make me ***
Or send me a picture of a painting from a museum
Rather than that so called master-piece you refer to below the belt
Men try so hard to dive between my legs
But not enough to dive into my mind
Do I look like an airhead?
Because I assure you that I'm not
Will the mentality ever overcome the physicality?
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 2:57 PM UTC
For fuck's sake, Carol. My heart just stopped for a little. I’m not dead yet.
“Oh, Frank...”
Don’t ‘Oh, Frank’ me. I’m perfectly fine, see? Just help me get my boots on.
Being in the hospital is a lot like being in prison, but with more fluorescent lights and the constant smell of death and tongue depressors. I want to go home, but I can’t seem to move my legs. Or my arms. Or anything. I want to scream at the son of a ***** who keeps messing with my IV, but I can’t find my words. I think she’s starting to get the hint thanks to the speedy and steady beeping of my heart monitor and my amazingly high blood pressure. I have to go. Now.
They say I may never make it out of here. To hell with them. There’s nothing I want more than to sit in my recliner, open a cold one or five and watch the Big Blue beat Brady one last time. Heh, the look on his face when we ruined their perfect season. Still one of the greatest sights in my lifetime.
“Hello, Mrs. Rosecrans.”
Oh, Jesus Christ. Not this airhead again. Don’t you talk to my wife.
“Dr. Wasser, he looked at me today. He’s there. I see it. Are you sure?”
“Based on the CAT scans we’ve taken, the possibility of him waking up is very, very slim.”
“But he looked at me...”
“It was just a reflex. Look, if I pinch his skin, I’m not getting a reaction.”
What is the matter with you? Going around pinching people who can’t yell back... I wish I could give this guy a piece of my mind right about now.
“Okay. So, what can we do?”
Her voice is shaking. I want to tell her that there’s nothing to worry about.
“At this point, we would need you to start coming to a decision.”
The room goes silent, and I can hear my barely beating heart sink.
I don’t want to die here.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
Half full, half empty...
we both see the glass, the liquid, the space?
you see half a picture, i see the WHOLE
BOOM! Just topped us both, and topped off my glass. At least yours is half full and not half empty. Convenience!
Get it yet Fido?
Killed another one of your friends, right before your blind eyes. Can you do anything but sit, and roll over?
I never looked at poetry as something you win, but it looks like i am in the lead. Do you really have a muse? She is an airhead. Sometimes i wonder if you even have a muse. Nice glass you fools live in
Oct 12, 2021
Oct 12, 2021 at 4:35 PM UTC
Just a while more
Till I'm gone.
The final glance,
You'll mistake it for any other;
And I'll walk away, for I must.
Perhaps you'll wonder.
Perhaps you won't...
Your name will resound in my heart
And course through my veins;
With every heartbeat taking you further away...
I see your eyes: dark and beautiful
Like the northern lights,
I see your smile, your eyes shine...
You're a little airhead, ain't you?
But that's alright...
I feel your hand in mine: cold, smooth, like those glass pebbles by the sea;
Salt in the wind, wind in my hair.
I feel your lips: rough and warm
And only in my wildest dreams...
Now I stand, looking one last time,
Engraving you in my soul.
She begs from within, I hold a dagger at her chin;
Tears pour out on my pretend-smile,
And I stand alone, barefoot
My blood stains the snow,
My first red rose at my thorn-pricked fingertips...
Should I let go?
The seconds tick reflecting moonbeams...
~Wordsmith
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
She doesn't like musicians
Calls herself the Josephine
Cut through to her smile
and you will see how she is, mean
A threat to those in A.C.
Playing ***** with machine
Some airhead playing samurai
in only a bikini
She doesn't like musicians
"You know what I think of them?" she asks
I just keep myself tight
as I try to forget the past
Then, she winks at me as to raise her chair
and I am mesmerized by blondness
Blinding me, her hair
and she takes me down and slays me
as I lie here
She doesn't like musicians
Football' swhere it's at
"I think I'll love my brother" she says
But, I don't tip for coffee and chat
and we both just leave it at that
Then, I think that this it it
The last time
and I think that she got in the last laugh
And I know she had the first
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
Bring your A game suckers
******* airhead egos
egocentric allied liars
lying about all their passions
passionate about calling out posers
posing as someone much better than their own
owning everyones aggression in a ten mile radius
radius of lonely people begging for a break
breaking hearts and hurting eyes
eying brilliant bodies watching them writhe
writhing into conversations
conversing about boredom
bored. im bored
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
Airhead
airhead,be airhead
airhead,be airhead
wondered what i's gonna be
slept till noon, memory
fleeting lost, don't remember
what's the cost, forever never
called a friend, wasn't there
been a lover, and airhead
pay you back, in next life
kiss my *** it don't exist
can you be, a memory
after death, i do not see
airhead, be airhead
not an orbit, no no no
orbit better than i know
cosmic man flying free
earth bound me, misery
call it all i do not see
bean to heaven, been to hell
just some word's, in my skull
no place running, no place hide
no big choice, live or die
who are you, see you near
do not care, why you're here
just like you, live or die
cosmic blister, in my eye
let's get free tonight
let's get free tonight
let's get free tonight
let's get free tonight
Oblivion!!!!!!!
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC
I guess that’s how this thing goes. It breaks significant rules and crosses all existing boundaries. Everything is manipulated: it is pugnacious on the clever and subtle ones, and since history it’s been known to prey on seemingly indestructible fortresses. It crumbles in and makes its way through your bloodshot eyes and feeble set of vessels and stimulates you to rip your innards out. It dishevels hackneyed ideas and leaves out the faint ens of a grey static, sending out a stinging sensation that is shrouded in obscurity. And amusing it is that you will more likely come to a point in which you feel nothing more grievous than the feeling of adhering oneself to a fine strand of barbed wire whilst being dramatically suspended high off the ground.
How barbaric, my love. You do what you usually do for a living—engulfing your usual sadistic self—whilst I, as usual, take part in this stupid little game as a masochistic airhead.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
Sometimes,
I can be,
quite
an airhead
And at those moments
all I can think
is:
My amazing ignorance
strikes me dumb
...
literally
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC