Betch poems on Hello Poetry

Ocean Carter Jun 2015

Sunsets.

Growing up I never liked the nights, As a child it signified the end of play with the rule that you had to be indoors at dawn.

I remember the evil ticking sound of the tremulous hands of time as we were separated from our friends,
with the sun wrapping up in the fragrant petals of the freezing cold nights.

A spirit locked inside a world of silence and pure nothingness.
The hot fire sparks assaulting my fragile skin of the hands over the fire at the compulsory fireplace,It's streaks of sorrow still trace their way into my soul.

Until the day [God knows when] I saw the beauty of colors blending together, forming a magical hue through (You guessed it.)
a cheap camera lens.

Sunset is twice as beautiful through a camera lens.

Now more than ever I go sit at my betch, snap the beautiful sunsets, and caption them with a nervous pulse knowing it’ll soon end. Only fair since nothing lasts forever.

Darkness closes in, the fun begins. I reach for your hand.
"Come with me into darkness."

#sunsets

kailyn senpai Nov 2014

brooklyn

dat betch iz out of mi liek 4 gud & out of mi baez lief bc she a sloot & nu 1 lek hur & she st00pid & sh3 tri 2 taek me bae but she didmt taek him & ily bae

stoopid sloot

#brooklyn

genevieve moncada Jun 2012

Hemophilia

"So, you just keep bleeding?"
"Yep."
"And you just don't stop?"
"Nope."
"Well, I sure am sorry about that."
"Betch'you are."
"Really. I am. But I have to go."

And with that, she left me
The water running
Getting colder and colder until
A glacial layer of cold breath
And a thick film of icy memories
Enveloped me
And washed down the drain
Along with the inky
Red of my open veins

Edward Laine Apr 2012

Gristle craft zero

Tiger stripe- midnight counting down the hours until i can see again
& on the way home(alone...yes)I swear I saw something in the hedgerow//rhyme//shudder
something, something, SOMETHING BIG
it was moving, it was watching me & licking its lips
it knew my name, my real name
it said
they're right you know
it...IT
it sounded like Miles Davis on those recordings when you hear him say something off mic to the engineer
it said
is that what you wanted
are you happy
what do you want
what do you want
what do you want
i was running
it was chasing
it was tethered to my boot heel
it was on wheels
it howled like a BETCH
the lights of passed houses lighted up
the wife was saying
what was that noise, honey, honey, what was that noise.. go look
the husband was sleeping
the husband was buddha'd
i ran to my car
locked the door
put on the shipping forecast
slept on the backseat

morning came
SCHLINGG!

Giuseppe Stokes Dec 2017

Gun-Running

The figure moved; "let by gones be by gones
n'all" called the other reaching for gun.
Shadow flashed, eyes witnessed unsong;
"bound soul flitting shade bound, n'all!" gun sung.
As the bank clerk accosted sought shelter,
the barrelled void looked on with glee. Happy?
What a time to shine we've a belter,
and I'll betch ya bare presents from me.
Animate beings the devils in deets
Replete we so are and we suffer.
In-animacy, the terms quite discreet,
and our ignorance hampers our buffer.
For guns everywhere, unloading despair,
pushing and crushing; the barrels grim stare.

LeRoy Williams Jun 2019

Frick Park Faucet Water

Faygo and ******* **** and a little braded naughty nancy who ain't really named nancy Tom Clansy sheets nasty. ***** nasty. Sheets nasty thats frequent from the New York jogger flopping floppy frogger. She stunk like hose water pan handling cleanly. Oh and touch my weeny weeny from the scene where Scheen bees. Hurt my hind haunches like the stank from the seat where old Ponch sits. Cooties grissle cookies wish, I wished yes betch I ****** up I bet-cha you're a ******* **** that facades as a proof fan because my homie used to use my Moving Van, but ****** I don't know your crow's feet until. Well.Well. Well know until this thesis because I wanted to write how more I **** **** with Rechard Simmons on the Weeknd's Porsche hood with permission because we isn't weight bizz-nitch. I'm itching Oren Ishy Iishi can you open up the crusty crumble, Wait I waxed my *******. ******* waste on bleach. I ******* bleached her *** buster with more catching up then mustard sauce. **** your Oddity I'll grab enough ***** from Fun-yun bags that reak fathered pharamones. Oh. I moaned Oh. Oh. Oh. I moaned.

matthew scott harris Nov 2019

Most imp potent playbook page...

'bout fluffiness of hair after washing

Now get ready for...
yup intelligent persiflage
determining if ***** "talk" gauge
correctly calibrated courtesy this sage.

Beats out global warming
by a long stretch
most important commander
must set example you betch
chore life no matter
if miserable wretch

survives impeachable offenses
enough to make me kvetch,
especially four more years
yours truly will once again become
bulimic anorexic wretch.

Versus important crisis
of planet Earth,
where Gaia's bountiful
nature woolworth
analogous wharf resplendent
docks side of ships berth state
housing electricity generating

mined resources inevitable dearth
warming chill folks
courtesy ***** hearth
reminiscent during inchoate
fetal nine months
in utero signaling imminent birth.

Quite understandable reasonable,
non negotiable, inviolable...
blah... blah... blah
scalp itching blather
particularly to prioritize
orange-blond hirsute fullness

upon rinsing sudsy shampoo lather
as expressed by this
post baby boomer
pencil neck geek father,
who attempts to walk poetic feet
across cyber sea
miraculously to slather.

Trademark seedy nonsensical
farcical gobbledygook,
perhaps posthumously printing
bestselling blank paginated chapbook

ghost written by Trump
titled Art of the Steal
detailing head and shoulders how to look
suave and sophisticated all business

swiftly tailored harried style shook
White House disguised himself as rook
key "Fake" incognito president
recruiting apprenticed bartered bride
slow vacuuming trophy wife crook

cow hoard milching, kickstarting,
inciting, generating... donnybrook
coiffing pompadour resembling
forefathers windblown periwig.

Nope not even one hair
mussed out of place,
as if teetering fountainhead
supporting Atlas shrugged

top heavy topples
and crashes scattering
bajillion easy pieces everyplace
analogous to humpty dumpty
each and every last vestige

vanishing without a trace
exiting out cloaca
subsequently intently watching
toilet bowl royally flush
clockwise if within northern hemisphere

heavy enough to sink submarine
haint no reason yours truly might gush
even if abominable ballast
saves queasy passengers
plummeting thru aerospace.

Sometimes Starr Mar 2023

Springtime and Dysphoria

And when we 'round the bend
She loves us all the same again,
Having borne Iniquity
All of carnage sings to me:

Halo of eternal night--
Alight thine specters, dark and bright!
Cataclysm in my hand--
Choke me with your wedding band

Seizing on a mat of blood
Perceiving springtime in the mud
Violets spring up from the ground,
Organs make their squelching sounds

Turn that betch inside out
Stitch her up and emancipate yourself.

Yes! Liquid love befell the trees
And soaked their roots in harmonies
No turmoil in my mushroom cap!
Just nature's happy, little maps.

Until you round a little bend
And see the vulture's empty mind
***** reflection, victim eyes
Accept it on the other side.

And when we round the bend again
She loves us all the same, my friend
It's carnage that would sing to me
And birds, cleaved of iniquity

IrishDraughtGirl Oct 2013

Not Royalty

They walk by,
All in their little cliques,
Gossiping about their "pathetic"
Multi-million dollar horses.
I feel them judging me...
I don't have a slender figure
And my horse is worth a mere
Fifty-thousand.
Maybe.
My curvy size-10/12 hourglass figure
Rides in a Barnsby saddle,
Not a five figure Custom,
And my rough hands
Are wrapped in the gloves from the sale rack.
How is it, then
If they are so elite
And I -
so inferior,
That I always beat then?
Because I have something they don't.
I have a heart.
I'm not an "equestrian betch" as they brag.
I'm a girl,
With a dream
Who was given a shot
With an unbroken horse.
I'm a girl who reads books
Instead of slutting around.
They curse as I ride by,
Blue-threaded medal in hand.
I wouldn't trade my horse for the world.
We have a connection so deep
We can transfer thoughts
With no signals added.
So you can judge.
You can call me a fat wanna-be.
But at the very core,
I'm everything I want to be:
Nothing that they are.

— The End —