"argumentative" poems
Due tomorrow:
Lab report
Argumentative essay
Group project
39 textbook pages
I can do this.
Get some coffee and caffeine
Lock the door and close the windows
Put on those sound-blocking earbuds
FOCUS
Keep in mind the future good grade.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
“Yorkshire! Yorkshire!” I hear the EDL scream,
as if somehow the county, relates to their regime?
Trying to push on others their far right views,
and tainting Yorkshire with their taboos
cos Yorkshire to me, is whatever the **** I want it to be,
I do love a bit of local pride...
maybe to revel in the comfort it provides,
and even though stereotypes say we're tight,
as well as stubborn, argumentative (they're prolly right),
But I'd rather that, than be uptight,
like a stereotypical southerner might
I recently read a quote from Stuart Maconie,
“England has a bottom half,
but there isn't a south, in the same way there's a north”
The North in the south means desolation,
A cultural wasteland with deserted stations,
a place built on violent, aggressive foundations,
With mid summer Arctic temperature fluctuations,
Nothing that comes close to a nation....
But that's not what I see,
To be from the north means good fish and chips,
with tomato sauce and vinegar, it's glory on the lips,
I see people willing to lend a hand,
A honest chat about the weather as you stand at a bus stop
that you never planned,
It doesn't matter whether it's a cob, bun, bap, barm or roll,
Or that the north was ****** over by the outsourcing of coal,
Or your opinion that we're all just sat on the dole, drinking tea out of a ***** bowl.
We should still all have a similar goal,
To have a good time,
and not hurt a soul
Sometimes I do like to revel in the divide,
but I'll always welcome people from the other side,
Acceptance is not sin,
and if you let it,
it generally ends up with a win : win
What's Yorkshire to you? I haven't got a clue... but come sit down so we can have a chat and a brew! And hopefully we'll both learn something we never knew.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
Let not others get under your skin,
Do not react but instead respond.
For if you react then they will win,
You are giving them just what they want.
To react is all power to lose,
To respond gives them nothing to use.
If you can be the bigger person
And not react, then you will have won.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 4:06 AM UTC
People are opinionated.
People are selfish.
People are obstinate.
People are argumentative.
People are lazy.
People are destructive.
People are creative.
People are beautiful.
People are determined.
People are complex.
People are unique.
People are amazing.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
Muck bit her ivory nightgown, as if earth hungering
after her...the delicate collapse of a napkin,she.
Hours poured atop her head, her shaggy, silvery
mane suspended--its reluctant bounce captured
at midpoint...as a spiderweb under ultraviolet light.
Desert sands lost in contemplation, reminiscent of
her flesh--divulge her core as she sleeps in a
fetal position.
Her body spasms awkwardly...its will visibly slowed
from initial motion.
As the paralysis experienced by prey amid the astral
annals of nightmares.
She'll rise into that shine, wonder at the nightmare's
symbology...talk to her garden--whilst thinking of her
time to come.
Silkworm breached the parcel
of time, its cocooned inertia
coarsed through the opalescent
eye of God to Godhood.
Of time's ruination redeemed
in a solitary work...cupped
airless the unbridled form of
a trapezist spent itself.
Opened and closed somersaults
atripped a piece of said space...
nothingness regenerated to
move, to take step of itself.
A self-argumentative abstraction
glowed...undid its silken flag--
firmly planted in an undiscovered
region...her time come.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 7:45 PM UTC
The world is not complex
People just say it is to hide their bull **** excuses for self justification
Let us give them our admiration for their condescending inspiration
Lonely is fun when your enticingly crazy
Never entirely board when your consumed in self argumentative rambling
A gesture I call exciting
I don't deny the chaos erupting from my skulls siding
Nor should anybody
I have a tendency of getting delighted the moment I put my animosity on display
It's kind of like my you have a "blessed day"
Yes I'm ok
I have daily meetings with the counselor in my head and he
said this is progress
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 1:48 PM UTC
I can love you & hate you,
All at the very same time,
I can need & yet reject you,
I’m balancing on the borderline.
I can blame you & bad mouth you,
I can make you feel, I don’t care,
If only I could explain to you
How much I need you there.
I’m balancing on the borderline
With no safety net below
I’m like a ticking time bomb
Not knowing when I might blow.
I’m loving & argumentative
I’m cruel & yet I’m kind
I’m childish & mature
I’m balancing on the borderline.
I can chop & change my mind
Quicker than the weather
I’m like a mound of clay
You can mould me into whatever.
Take my life into your hands
I’ll let you create what I should be
I’ll be whatever you want
Just please don’t leave me be.
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 2:19 AM UTC
Pretty
Pretty.
What does it mean to her?
Since the beginning time, she was always told she was pretty,
But at one point that little girl began to question
If what she was told was a lie.
Everybody seemed pretty,
But her.
She was no longer the “You should sign her up for modeling” girl.
She became “Oh, she’s ….. tall”
Or “Wow, you’re big! Oh I mean big for your age.”
When the “pretty” faded, so did her spirit.
The omnipresent smile was gone,
As well as her joy.
She became her mother’s nightmare
Moody,
Sensitive,
Irritable,
Argumentative.
She covered up her self-destructive insecurities with faux confidence and
“No really, I’m fine”
Just as if one covers up their unsightliness
With aggrandize grand eyes, cheeks and lips
No one ever knew that underneath all the bravado
There was still a little girl,
Who seemed grown physically and sometimes mentally,
Longing for someone to tell her she’s pretty.
Incorrect.
This little girl was waiting to tell herself she was pretty
And believe it.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
Slightly built, yet robust,
not frail, a daily jogger by choice,
shape conscious, proud-
about keeping the weight
in check, all these years,
articulates her feelings well
but, not the argumentative type,
this facet endears her to all,
keeps her Indian mind agile,
which reflects in her awareness
of eternity than here and now.
Takes oil bath twice a day, in keeping with
the true Malayalee spirit,
never a river in spate, yet
forceful and gushing in making heard
her opinions for others to consider,
from the first day of marriage,
unlike the demure Indian women.
None would doubt her might
that transcends the limits of material and physical,
hidden power sources are tapped at will,
cites her matrilineal heritage, that
stems form a long line of matriarchal grandmothers.
I can't imagine a day passing our premises
without she giving permission,
putting her signature,
all over each passing hour,
though we never keep a formal register for that.
Aren't we three, auxiliaries, the boys and I
in the orchestra named after this inveterate conductor?
Sweet to the core, but if needed
could be pungent, never erupts or go wild,
Smile is disarmingly gentle, yet
that firm answer, needed at the right time,
is never delayed.
Two adoring eyes flutter,
pledging support,
they never let me down, day or night.
a hand that gently touches, me
with the fingers of reality.
when I dream in day or night.
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 9:54 AM UTC
He’s a complete double negative
Sensitive and competitive
“This thing” seems imperative
And when I’m all preventative
and have discourses that are argumentative
He is, to me, like a sedative.
But everything is of course relative.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
I have to be more careful with my words
Or rather the wording of said words
I have to take a leaf out of your book this time
Instead of slamming it shut each time you open it before me
Despite how ludicrous and unbelievable your avoiding answers are
There are only so many ways I can rephrase the question
Before insanity beats honesty by numbers from the infinite variations
So I'm not giving in quite yet as I said in frustration
And although from our argumentative conversation I failed to learn
I was in fact enlightened, brightened, given light
For my answers and questions stand strong and unchanged
Strengthening in stillness at every returning question you fire
I may not be the Right, I may not have the Right
Your belief might be silenced
My belief may be misunderstood
And though no result came of words spoken
And methods remain unsuccessful
The conclusion is always the same despite the uncountable alterations
So as I close this file to open one unfamiliar
I sign off with three last words
I am right
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
Please handle with care the man sat in the chair
he's not a millionaire, but priceless to me.
He's not a Saint, he's made mistakes,
he's as stubborn as they come, cantankerous and moody,
but while he's there in your care, please bear in mind,
though, grouchy, argumentative and he's driving you to despair,
he's mine and my siblings dad, he's a husband, a grandfather, brother,
uncle, nephew and once himself a son.
Yes, he's been bad.
Yes, we've made him sad.
Yes, he's a flirt (that's for Mam).
Yes, we're aware of his faults, that makes him human, but, he's ours, and we'd like to be selfish and keep the moody, grouchy,
cantankerous old man a little longer.
So, please just handle him with care.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC
lost to independence
lost to familiarity
I've lost so many
to a life that
**can
not
be**
lost to distracting influences
lost to argumentative forces
so many of my friends
have been lost to various causes
I've lost friends to love, and hate
lost friends that I can't find
wandering in a field of starkness
I've lost friends to uneven stakes
and friends that have voluntarily
embraced a hug from the darkness
but,
in the end
even when you feel
I'm not your friend
I'll be there forever
because we have
*a
bond...*
I'm the anchor, to your ship
even though you drift
I can hold you, to me
because
we belong
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 8:06 AM UTC
I cannot figure out how to unplug the Emotional Pin-Ball Game.
And I am finished playing for now!
There are nights when I am absolutely afraid to move. Anxiety and fear ~ my current nemesis. Like, one night, when I was on the phone with the therapist and he was telling me to get up and do something, I could not do it. And it was not because I was trying (in that very moment) to be argumentative and defiant, it was literally because my body was frozen and I could not move. And he seemed frustrated, which I understand, as he was trying to help me, and it’s not like he could grab my arm and physically move me (not that he would do that in his office either, but I suspect it’s a little bit easier for him to deal with me in that situation when we are in the same room). It’s so difficult for me to communicate at that point.
Right now I am in this space where I really wonder how I can continue to live up to the person everyone thinks that I am. Who is this person that everyone has created in their minds with my name attached to it? This person that people are praising and say that I am doing great things…Why can I not see the Nita that they see?? I look in the mirror and see constant failure and disappointment.
And I have to say that I am not really in the position right now to be all warrior-like and face all of it head-on. It is really one of those days when I want to curl up in a fetal position with a heating pad and pull the covers over my head. Even though the therapist would say that isn’t a good idea for me to hide myself away from all human contact…I still want too. I don’t have any desires to hurt myself; I’m just tired and I don’t want to be all happy and sunshiny for other people right now.
My body hurts today. On top of my normal Crohn’s issues that I battle daily…my weak body has fallen to pneumonia. So for 6 days now I have been rotating from coughing to not being able to breathe…oh and let’s throw in a Crohn’s fare up at the same time. Way more fun than one person should be allowed to have.
WAH! I’m sure it’s all “emotional” overload, right? I feel like a pin-ball machine…hit the emotional ball and see where it bounces around and what part of my body it hits! Headache/dizziness: 100 points. Abdominal pain: 50 points. Nausea/vomiting: 150 points. Insomnia: 200 points. Cramps/bleeding: 300 points. Coughing fit: 500 points. Uncontrollable shaking or inability to move at all: 1000 bonus points.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
So long and overdue,
The time starting askew,
Everything reversing to previous,
Views of simply devious,
Creatures of the night,
Time is now plight,
Prepare the cold grounds,
Enemies scorn those around,
It is those weak,
Who will soon peak,
Top of the charts,
Of deaths new art,
Headless gutless warriors attest,
Really trying their best,
To survive and ****
It takes much skill,
To stomach the pain,
Not letting your brain,
See what is on,
You are a pawn,
A game called chess,
Your turn to address,
The move to take,
Decipher who is fake,
And who is real,
Background their a deal,
Waiting to be made,
By Bankers being overpaid,
While people being honest,
Will all soon protest,
If not soon enough,
It will be tough,
To stop an army,
Of ignorance will be,
Those who are controlled,
Many do as told,
What now lies ahead,
Civil obedience mindless dead,
Wandering the empty streets,
Looking for minor threats,
Yelling terrorist every corner,
More for the coroner,
Those who lived free,
In debt free society,
People traded not sold,
Their time being told,
To live meaningless life,
Throats pressed by knifes,
Told to live right,
According to someone bright,
As pile high ****
Being full of it,
This right that wrong,
What happened came along,
In form of kids,
Passed to more kids,
Information of all lies,
Except select few hide,
Snickering as we die,
Keeping everyone under control,
Knowing what is foretold,
Is mostly not know,
Minds are closely sewn,
Together with simple lies,
Mostly ignored but disguised,
As nothing but truth,
Just another common sleuth,
Slipping between the cracks,
Not aware to react,
Used to being told,
Not to stand bold,
Against what is done,
We are of one,
United States of Dumb,
Easily manipulated fat popularity,
Contest of egocentric masculinity,
Where everyone has problems,
None actual solves them,
Differences made to keep,
Everyone nice and neat,
Happy competitive argumentative discouraged,
Four bowls of porridge,
Hot cold just right,
Fourth not in sight,
In another hidden room,
Your name on tomb
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC
Every so often he
swings through town and makes
his way into my bed,
broad trunk filling the void this empty mattress
reaffirms on the nights I sleep alone,
which is most.
I appreciate the infrequency with which
he comes to visit,
my door kept ajar,
my heart kept comfortably closed,
as he strolls in in his designer
sneakers or boots,
the noncommittal conversation flowing freely
between us.
Once I recall he rolled over,
his hand sliding up my forearm,
wrapping himself around my
frame as I pulled out my phone
to show him a photo,
and he noticed his number wasn't saved,
guffawing at my nonexistent concern for his
permanence,
or lack thereof.
I like the way he laughs
and the rare moments when we exchange
something deeply
personal about ourselves,
complicated words and phrases transplanting
simplistic nonverbal communication.
He is handsome
without being too ****
he is smart
without being argumentative;
he is wealthy
without being ostentatious;
he is shy
without being withdrawn;
he is a lot of things,
my finely filed fingernails not even
beginning to scratch the
surface of his otherwise
intriguing layers,
having tied my own
hands
behind my back.
I need the way he doesn't
need me,
and him I.
Sometimes I need his body heat,
the gentle weight of a
man's arm hanging on
my curvy hip.
There are moments when I need
one of our witty but empty
texting conversations,
simple enough to read after
too much Bordeaux.
I need the something that
exists in the nothing
that he brings
me.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
I don't believe we've met.
I'm Useless.
Yup.
That's what everyone else says, right?
I'm only just another argumentative fellowlady
I'm just a little loud,
just a little extreme,
but only just a little.
I'm okay with that. It's only a name,
only a game, a face,
only a phrase
"You're only a phase."
I don't really know how I write or how I am
or who I am.
I guess that's for you to decide
or figure out
or whatever you people do these days.
Frankly, I can't figure you people these days.
Why do you think I try so hard?
Do I act this way because I want to?
No.
I do it for you.
So yeah. I'm Useless.
Useless at sports,
Useless at popularity,
the only use that I have may be is
not being normal.
Because normal's boring.
And I'm not Boring.
Boring is what the rest of you are.
And I'm not Boring.
I'm Useless.
And at least I'm okay with that.
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 8:47 PM UTC
truth, what is truth now? what,when,where,how?
The truth is what is actually happening now,
What is love? Pairing up like two doves?
Or fitting together perfectly, two hands, same glove?
What is light? gives life and shines bright, gives sight?
What is fear? The feeling u get near the unclear?
What is pain? When ur body in vain?
Or when ur soul is in a strain? mind hit with a train?
What is sadness? when a loved ones life is in madness?
Or when ur own life is in shambles? from internal gambles? Argumentative dark rambles?
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC
Your moldable heart
So many times over
Lit up and torn apart
Like a mined diamond
Dug up and brushed off
So quit your whinin'
You're just lucky
Someone like me came along
I'm way ahead of you
Mentally, emotionally and physically
You're a pretty sad excuse
For a person in such a situation
And there's nothing you can do
But listen and soak up information
Keep playing the sponge
And someday you might get the correct formation
I hold the strings
Don't you see or are you that blind?
There are so many things
To be done, to be had
But you just hold on and take to the clings
And I can't say I'm appreciative
Of the fact that you can't seem
To be anything but argumentative
I'm a fuckin' gift
Something shiny in the fog
That comes to give you a lift
You're nothing but the bump on that log
Who goes and makes a shift
When she hears a little something questionable
Through your heart I will sift
And by the end your arteries will be bendable
Your heart of clay
Lays lazy and easily excitable
When I docked in your bay
It looked like saving you was viable
But I refuse to stay
I regret to inform of the incoming storm
But I must decline your invitation to play
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 11:41 AM UTC
When I was around nine or so my Father looked at me in disgust,
And said in a loud voice
"There are rolls of fat on her legs,
I've never heard of that before."
Poor Daddy wanted a perfect daughter,
And got a chubby social misfit with argumentative tendencies,
Combined with a complete disregard for anything as inconvenient as reality.
I wouldn't have chosen an alcoholic sociopath for a father, either,
So, hey, we're sort of even.
I have my father's temper, which disgusts me,
More than my legs disgusted him, I'll bet.
He knows that I don't like him,
I've never been able to please him, or impress him,
And I've never understood what made him so angry,
I'm angry, too, a lot of the time, but I would never look at my daughters with horror and scorn,
And coldly evaluate their physical shortcomings.
Everything about them is beautiful, everything.
What an *******
Wish I didn't love him, so.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
Your flawless exterior, shines like a self-righteous diamond
Gleaming and reflecting, deflecting and beguiling
Meddling in the emotions and perceptions
Laying waste to the argumentative non-believers
Of your worth
This one is not pleased!
The light that shines on your walls is so much brighter
Than the darkness inside gives it credit for
Is there no path towards the center?
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
I am paradoxical;
an oxymoronic anomaly.
all my nightmares are made
of daylight,
but I’ll still sleep to escape
the darkness.
I am paradoxical;
an absurd abnormality.
it’s a chaotic peace,
loud with it’s bated breath
and bittersweet ring.
I am paradoxical;
an irregular oddity.
my counterparts are contradictory,
and I change to chance
the possibility
that opposites attract.
and we’re all just paradoxed;
argumentative attractions.
there’s no stopping at the end,
when the sun is low
in the soft red sky.
where my nightmares are made
of daylight,
but I’ll still sleep to escape
the darkness.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 9:27 PM UTC