"brats" poems
Terrifying are the attent sleek thrushes on the lawn,
More coiled steel than living - a poised
Dark deadly eye, those delicate legs
Triggered to stirrings beyond sense - with a start, a bounce,
a stab
Overtake the instant and drag out some writhing thing.
No indolent procrastinations and no yawning states,
No sighs or head-scratchings. Nothing but bounce and stab
And a ravening second.
Is it their single-mind-sized skulls, or a trained
Body, or genius, or a nestful of brats
Gives their days this bullet and automatic
Purpose? Mozart's brain had it, and the shark's mouth
That hungers down the blood-smell even to a leak of its own
Side and devouring of itself: efficiency which
Strikes too streamlined for any doubt to pluck at it
Or obstruction deflect.
With a man it is otherwise. Heroisms on horseback,
Outstripping his desk-diary at a broad desk,
Carving at a tiny ivory ornament
For years: his act worships itself - while for him,
Though he bends to be blent in the prayer, how loud and
above what
Furious spaces of fire do the distracting devils
**** and hosannah, under what wilderness
Of black silent waters weep.
41.2k
I chose feminism because I believe in equality between genders.
because I’m against gender roles, men who need a woman to get their **** done are not “cute” and are nothing but spoiled little brats.
because my virginity, my body hair and how I dress up are none of your business.
I chose feminism because I’m not a *** machine nor a baby producer I value much much more than that.
because I don’t need a man to validate my self worth, I already know what I’m worth.
because in some countries ***** women are forced to spend the rest of their life under the same roof as their assaulter.
I chose feminism because a woman who speak up and raise her voice is a ***** .
because in my city a woman was beaten by her husband the night of their wedding because she didn’t “bleed” in the ***********
I chose to speak up because an 8 year old Yemeni girl died of internal injuries at the hands of 40 year old husband on their wedding night.
because ****** is not a ***** word and my periods are not disgusting.
because more women need to speak up and speak for their rights
I chose feminism and everyone should do the same .
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
Even the idea was worthy of a fight
and all too much preparation.
We dolled ourselves up for alienation,
even though the faces present
were so familiar and etched into memory.
Who are you Mr.Cool?
If that is your real name.
Whiskey breath and filterless smokes
only impresses the girls in the movies,
with scripts written by clueless men
like you, who can't supply injury
so they bring only insult.
You are a secretary bird,
a mime, and the copycat kid.
Trying to be a bad boy and hide
amongst the spoiled brats you claim.
Keep on burrowing and severing ties,
ravishing resources leads to ruin.
You say you've heard rumors?
Well, I've heard facts.
I've seen facts!
Your parasitic disguise will crumble
under the weight of your genuinely selfish persona.
While the company I keep will only know
the side you wished to reveal
in front of all the pretty boys and girls.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
'Why keep a cow when I can buy,'
Said he, 'the milk I need,'
I wanted to spit in his eye
Of selfishness and greed;
But did not, for the reason he
Was stronger than I be.
I told him: ''Tis our human fate,
For better or for worse,
That man and maid should love and mate,
And little children nurse.
Of course, if you are less than man
You can't do what we can.
'So many loving maids would wed,
And wondrous mothers be.'
'I'll buy the love I want,' he said,
'No squally brats for me.'
. . . I hope the devil stoketh well
For him a special hell.
7.4k
With each
CLICK
Our breath is held
Will he,won't he
Will he, won't he
The suspense is killing me
And....SHIT
Door left open still
Pestered by the plebeian chill
In this gay little coffee shop
Surrounded by the unrecognised talent of Brighton:sketch artist staring at me, writer on his laptop, songwriter etching vigorously with his pencil.
All of which aren't closing the door.
The eyes roll.
Labouring my body up, hammering my legs across the floor, turning the factory handle.
All is ask is for some carrot cake,filtrate water,polo jumpers, avocado salads,tiger bread, slimmer trousers, slipper sock , a toyger.
Click
And then images of Kim Jong un pass through my head.
If I ruled you'd all be dead
Firing squad for an open door,
Loud music on the train'll be no more.
Stop the screaming misbehaving brats
The rabble of Spanish students
All this PC stuff on the news, train seats filled with cans of *****
Suddenly
The artist strolls up
Let's down his cup.
Closes the door swiftly
And slips back in his chair
Oh, so there is a god.
I guess Jesus didn't lie.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 12:15 PM UTC
Funny men in tall chef hats
Marching about so wildly
Stone soup and humble pie
Main course and dessert delight
Give me a dose
And that girl two
Vanity, her dream come true
Narcissistic uncaring and cold
A mid-evil blunder
So daring and bold
Spoiled brats
And rotting Brauts
Sugared too sweet
Not telling the truth
The gossip
And all
The Court jester
The village idiot
He sinks to the bottom
She cheers to the top
It's amazing the wonder
The high school scene
The many things
That relate to its sheen
The short stout bakers
Making profit from weakness
Some goods so smooth
Some just the opposite
The geeks and nerds
Hackers and slackers
Jocks with jerseys
And rebels with rock
Serve up course two and three
Let's make it a festival
Just you and me
Vanity and sheen
Were just getting started
This is high school
This mid-evil concert
For four years we live it
A new melody
A new song
It's not the end
But the struggle
Is on.
Oct 6, 2010
Oct 6, 2010 at 1:04 AM UTC
The teacher's eyes gathered colours about
The cultured garden scene she knew so well;
She likes the section flowers nicely sprout
Her hidden world where varying colours jell.
Achievers pride she takes with all her heart;
Like outstanding pupils she proudly groomed.
But scrappy lazy ones, never seems to start,
She wished them luck and left alone to bloom.
The sun regardless shines on all juniors.
The bright ones, the brats she pitied a lot.
Through years and wise by age she remembers,
Oft visiting her those she had forgot,
Those she loved and cared have whittled away.
But strugglers now trees they weathered to stay.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
No one wrote a book
On how to queer up the world.
I’ve been waiting for Volume One
On how to hate your body effectively,
Because all of the brats who spit in my
Cherry eyes won’t tell me what I’m doing wrong
When I say “it doesn’t fit.
It never fits. Will I ever fit?”
Because we’re one binary and the other, and we don’t
Fit quite between, and we’re doomed to be melting
Snowflakes in schoolyards. We’re doomed to tears,
And standing awkwardly between ‘boy’ and ‘girl’ sections.
They opened up their doors to us, those who fit
Comfortably or not so comfortably in either of the two
Slots (like maybe this is a gameshow, and I didn’t pick
The right door?) but they promptly
Threw us out when we tried. And tried again.
And failed and cried and threw our hands in the air like
Children, misguided, in pain, stubbing our toes on the door
That says “real suffering.”
Because our suffering isn’t real to a world that encapsulates it in
So many words as symptoms for a
Common cold.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 4:20 AM UTC
Working at the amusement park is a grand old time.
There’s nothing like having to hide
In the ticket booth when you wanna smoke a joint
So your boss doesn’t find out and fire you.
Every ride has bright, multicolored lights
And this is how I waste my time away.
The closest bathroom is half a mile away,
Those Porta-Johns are full all the time
And always smell like Marlboro Lights
It’s where those teen brats like to hide.
A kid always asks for another toy gun from you
And immediately bends it all out of joint.
Jocks, barbies and snotty kids mill around this joint,
Throwing all their money away
Buying more and more tickets from you
Screaming, complaining, cheating all the time
And there’s no good place to hide
With all these obnoxious lights.
They’re poor substitute for big city lights,
They only illuminate this cheesy joint,
Don’t even let ***** gutters hide—
I’m surprised they don’t want to look away.
Cotton candy disappears in your mouth every time,
But you think it’s worth it, don’t you?
The only boy who ever liked you
Works across the park, beyond the lights,
But you miss him waving at you every time
Because some skeez is yelling, “Let’s blow this joint!”
And a mom drags her eight kids away
Screaming, “One more word and I’ll tan your hide!”
Why do the five-year-olds always play hide
And seek in the Fun House? “Hey, you!”
Where the hell are your parents? Go away!”
Finally Anna, who manages mini golf, lights
A gloriously white-papered little joint
And we smoke until closing time.
This is where I hide, and yet these lights
Are poor substitutes you know, for home, the joint
You tried to get away from, before you wasted your time.
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 7:19 PM UTC
we rejoiced
when the sign on the parking meter said we could park for free.
your kind hand
in clumsy mind,
we strolled.
we were caught between the arts and business district,
so the shops and eateries weren't
sure if they should be cool or classy.
we strolled.
we passed an army of delis now abandoned.
a greek place,
a gelato,
a couple of hotel diners,
we rounded the block,
came back close to our start,
decided on the only restaurant
that was open.
as we were seated,
the already present patrons
stared ceaselessly, with no blinking.
people always stare at us.
i think they have trouble
categorizing us.
we aren't fat.
i don't wear affliction t-shirts,
you don't dress ******
we are caught somewhere
between the summer of '72 and indie rock brats.
our waiter was uneasy,
he had black hair, a beard,
a voice that squeaked and stuttered
as he boasted the organic and local support
the restaurant waved as their prideful flag.
order taken, people still throwing quick glances,
the music was right up our alley.
we took turns saying the names of the bands.
Cake, The Strokes, Spoon (the setlist's favorite), a deep cut from Bowie's Low, and a multitude of indie darlings that i can't remember.
i fell in love with you again.
i guess that makes the fifth or sixth time.
your child's eyes,
warm laughter,
and noble concern for the ****** state of the world.
it was good conversation,
it was good food,
it was a pleasant warm-up
for the remainder of our
getaway weekend.
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 10:10 AM UTC
I can't wait until I get off at six
So I can head to Covington to get my Oktoberfest fix
To sit in Goebel Park's courtyard and listen to a German band;
with the German style Pied Piper Bell tower; the view is grand
At the Goose Girl Fountain, a walking German band can be found
I guess my heritage is ingrained but I like that sound
Brats with sauerkraut, roasted nuts and some German beer
Come on six o'clock I want to be there!
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 9:05 AM UTC
Good morning, class! I am your substitute teacher, and I will be teaching you your ABC’s today. Let’s not waste time and just dive right in!
A is for Anxiety. That’s that feeling you get when you go to recess and see the bullies waiting for you on the playground.
B is for ******* If you don’t know what that means, that’s when your daddy abandons you before he even gave you a chance.
C is for Cranky. That’s what I feel right now because I had to get up early today to come in here to teach you brats your alphabet, and I’m getting paid **** for it.
D is for Dog. Mine died, and if you have one, yours will eventually die too. That’s another D word for ya.
E is for Empty. Empty hearts. Empty souls. Empty stares. Empty lives.
F is for Friends. Friends will **** all over you.
G is for Girlfriends. They’ll rip out your heart and stomp all over it.
H is for Hell. It’s the world we live in.
I is for Idiot. Which is what you are if you ask a question.
J is for ******* Which is another term for donkey – another D word.
K is for Knife.
L is for Love. Your parents will tell you they love you, but they don’t mean it.
M is for Money. If you want to make a lot of it when you grow up, deal drugs.
N is for Neglect. That means when your parents ignore you cause they’re too busy with their pretentious jobs and their extramarital affairs. If you don’t know what that means, don’t worry. Time will teach you.
O is for Optimistic. Stay positive – just not HIV-positive.
P is for ********** Judging by the intelligence level of this class, that is a bright career opportunity for several of you.
Q is for Queasy. Which is what you feel when you are hungover.
R is for Respect. You don’t earn it. You take it.
S is for Secrets that no one will ever keep.
T is for Tranquilizer. I have one waiting for me for when I get home tonight.
U is for Ugly. That’s adolescence.
V is for… Only girls have them.
W is for Wood Chuck. How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?
X is for Xenophobic. That’s what you will all grow up to be because your mom taught you to never talk to strangers.
Y is for Yes. That's what you have to say to everyone to get anywhere in life.
Z is for Zoloft. I should probably up my dose.
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 7:09 PM UTC
Adios England's Venus flytrap
May you ever overflow inside our rectums
You were the ornament that inserted itself
Where spunks were pelted to pieces
You ********** in the open air to our promontory
And you squirted to those inside ********
Now you reciprocate to Abraham's *****
And the black holes crack spew out your barber's pole
And it seems to me you tasted your *****
Like a cigarette lighter in the diarrhoea
Never drooping with knobs on the cherry lips
When the ooze congeal within
And your smells will always regurgitate here
Along England's juiciest blast—offs
Your cigarette lighter's exploded spew out long before
Your whiff ever go the whole hog
Voluptuousness we've jiggled
These frenzied wombs of time needing your clenched fist
This lava lamp we'll always get pregnant
For our breed's fair—haired brats
And even though we have a finger in
The clean breast seduces us to moistness
All our foghorns cannot ****
The ecstasy you stimulated us throughout the age groups
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 3:21 PM UTC
Chocolate rabbits from hell
My feet hurt from stepping
On chocolate eggs
And I have to look at my mom
As she watches me
Push the basket of chocolate aside
as i sit down for breakfast
and I have to ignore
the two brats
beside me
gorging themselves
on
little
round
pieces of
fat.
I remember last year
Jelly beans, crème eggs,
All that **** that I now
refuse to cram in my mouth;
Im not adding to
the reserves of pudge on my
hips/thighs/arms/stomache
inside and outside
everyday i
bloat
mirrors
****
I can hear sloshing in their stomaches
As they stand
Hockey practice, hockey practice
They’re carried off by chauffers,
My parents
For the rest of the day
Ill be alone
Last year that would have meant
A choco-fest, and I miss it a bit
As the hunger that no one will notice
begins to set in
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 4:58 PM UTC
He told me to **** off.
He said the situation was ********
He gave me the finger
And walked out slamming the door behind him
He is my 11 year old son
He yelled, “What the ****
He told me to get out
And tried to wrestle me out the door of his bedroom
I got the drop on him
Pinned him to the floor
Then he yelled “MOM”
She took my side and screamed at him.
That was my 14 year old.
Both boys swear, say inappropriate things, demand, and act like spoiled brats
I still love them.
But I've had to start lifting weights
I’ve had to start working out
They are getting stronger
I know eventually one of them will take a swing at me.
Some people say beat them
I’ve tried
They keep coming back for more
They like it
My wife defends herself with psychological warfare
The children think she is crazy
and are afraid of her
If ever completely unleashed, the full power of her unpredictable female emotional psyche could take out small city
Leaving many permanently brain dead
She's too humane to torture their young minds for any extended period of time.
I won’t go into the details regarding what she has done to my mind. But think coercion, bribery, guilt, seduction, isolation, etc……
When people say modern family
Divorce, homosexual parents, blended families might come to mind.
Our modern family is a little bit CIA training, little bit UFC, sprinkled with God, Xbox, Disney channel, and Adult Swim.
How did things get this way?
I don’t know
Where is it headed?
It’s all uncharted territory
We’re fighters
I am confident they will make it to adult hood without too many battle scars
In the back my mind I can’t help but wonder what lies ahead?
My oldest starts high school next year
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
leather skinned harlots
in their pre-washed jeans
and make with sticky fingers the shiny jewels
and the keys to proverbial kingdoms
but nobody notices
everybody is too busy celebrating the
return of the same old same old
and her ten trick pony
shes a fire in the ***** of many a man
good thing most of them take medications for it
but she is as hard to cure as her burning desires
the happy girls are neatly dressed
perfumed and powdered in evening dresses
nothing it would seem can get in the way
of tonight's entertainment
song and dance numbers performed with zeal
and more than a touch of class by some famous actor
who name has faded away
but his dreams are still alive
up there in bright lights on the marquee
all he wants is that second chance
like lightening striking a third time
the townsfolk all gather there at the edge of the stage
to see the show and cheer on his rise to stardom
everyone except the girl with the rose tattoo
she was still at the bar trying to drowned her sorrows
in whiskey and spilled tears
her and her pony had enough of this town
but they had no place else to go
aint much room in the world for someone like her
the same old same old is hard way to live
she tries to smile but it comes out shouts of misery
her pony nudges her arm and looks to the east and the rising sun
time to go but she dosn't care
shes got a few tricks of her own
shes gonna marry the actor
squeeze out a few ankle-biters and get the picket fence
to put around the little brats
keep em in check
seems like every time you turn around
there is somebody trying to one up you
the new girl in town has a mechanical pony
and comes with a text book on std's of the soul
she will make alot of men happy someday
but not today
today they all have leather skinned harlots
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
'Twas the night before Christmas--Old Santa was ******
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works!
I've busted my *** for **** near a year,
Instead of 'Thanks Santa'--what do I hear?
The old lady ******* cause I work late at night.
The elves want more money--The reindeer all fight.
Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant and ***** has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those ******** from the IRS sent me a letter,
They say I owe taxes--if that ain't **** funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?
And the kids these days--they all are the pits
They want the impossible--Those mean little *****
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo yo's--No request for them,
They want computers and robots...they think - I'm IBM!
Flying through the air....dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I'm quitting this job there's just no enjoyment
I'll sit on my fat *** and draw unemployment.
There's no Christmas this year now you know the reason,
I found me a blonde. I'm going SOUTH for the season
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC
lady z,
now who could that be?
A lady with personality
for everyone to see.
Lady and teacher
and sometimes even a preacher,
artist with passion
impossible to even reach her.
Controller of little brats
it's sometimes hard to miss
paitient and mild with them
would others would scream with ludacris.
Others would hide and sream 'here is lady z!'
but others would just giggle and greet
'bonjour mo cherry!'
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
Designer clothes, glittering cars,
A million buck fragrance,
Costly drink at the bars,
Flying in chartered planes,
Your so called stars ,
Celebs at the parties,
Smoking cigars .
Oh, you like calling it high society ?
Then please do, mister,
I can take facts with ease.
I've been a slave to it, since so long,
I know how ******* high it is.
Effin brats of billionaire dads,
Acting cool with pricey ****
******* roaming in alluring rags,
All slaves like me, of tempting fads.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 11:37 AM UTC
Horse hog beatle eatin mad hair spinning wandering Druid in rags and rage from some untold war,
sweat and secrets in the dust of a sleeve,
the shadows tell of souls that fell and are held in bags, the trophies of the dead,
grim times grim place, a stain, a beard, a violent gleam in an honest eye,
flying eyes with wings that carry we I to salvation known to be see-through truths,
step out of the alley and we call attention to the rips in pockets,
loose girls, loose change, loose lips lose everything,
I will not return, I will not be held,
I will not be judged by sawdust filled domes resting on water bags like rotting fruit still on the vine,
it's almost like the sunshine could be brought down and called mine, again,
every time I see that smile I dance a hundred times on the grave,
my ultimate dream slave,
my body calls once and I move on,
I'm always moving on towards another drawn dawn,
another card burnt into the table,
straying is my way of saying this is real, this is done before my feet hit the ground,
why should I rush the fun of coming undone?
Of sliding down to run up and hang a crow on my brown burnt brimmed hat and sit on a fence watching Him play a tune and learn to lose as He leads those lambs to their doom,
spitin and listenin to that mad burglar spinnin old brews that sleeps the jury and the suits and the brats that cry morning dew on my shoulder,
who says that the road is long? It's just a little dusty and walked on!
Tappin my way to the sky, tappin my way to some sunny day in your eyes, baby blue eyes I can't help but smile, you can't blame me if I smile.
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 4:06 PM UTC
Ten kittens in my home now
Ten little brats
Their mothers never knew how
To catch the cupboard rats!
Their mothers never knew how
To go for hunt and prey
How the kittens would learn now
Anything other than play!
Their mothers never knew how
To pounce on a mouse
The poor kittens are all now
Just idling in my house!
Their mothers never knew how
To make their own food
Why still the kittens now
Making me feel so good?
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
You storm the kitchen like livid soldiers
in hollow combat
brandishing stingers,
no camouflage is cunning enough
to cover up your lethal colours -
sinful stripes of black, yellow.
Beads of ink, eyes of malice
flash as you swipe and violate
skin, in painful *********** - an evil act of love;
hateful wasp, what is it that you want?
What makes you lust for human blood?
You are the waste of summer:
the wretched lowlifes, airborne brats
and savage lads inducing fear
amongst both dogs and cats.
You circle workers
with your vicious sneer, possess
an uncanny absence
of all natural innocence.
Pleasure-seekers and noise-makers,
you ******** of August
buzzing at honey traps;
a sugar addiction your weakness,
your final collapse.
Flailing, you flap about
furious at human trickery;
Immersed, all syrupy
your wings weigh
like lead, and then
motionless you float;
at last, your crisp carcass
black and dead.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 8:10 AM UTC
King Arthur the great, a man to be noted,
head of the table, of greatness t'is coated,
slayer of dragons, killer of kings,
***** of brats and fellater of things.
After a triumphant skirmish, which Arthur did lead,
it was decided he'd celebrate in his great hall of mead.
One of his councilmen, being ever so corny,
decided to throw old Arthur an ****
he rallied his men,
about a hundred and ten,
and proved to Arthur that they were quite *****
He yanked Arthur's hair,
thrashed his fine heir,
and while in the process, he was not far from bare.
He spread Arthur's *** and shoved in his large diaphragm,
then threw in his huge **** and yelled "Here comes the leviathan!"
He thrusted and pounded then started to moan,
he ****** on his ******* and continued to bone.
The councilman, not satisfied, pulled out his large knife,
his eyes were bloodshot , his **** was his life.
He stared at Arthur's *** crack, it looked rather thin,
he carved it and sliced it then shoved it back in.
He looked into Arthur's eyes and said he wont waste,
he told all his men to **** with such haste.
Not one hole was spared, his nostrils were bleeding,
he turned at the councilman and asked for a beating.
The councilman nodded and with such a strange grin,
put it in Arthur's mouth, t'is no mere sin.
He slapped it, shook it and cried for power,
the gods must have heard him, his men started to cower.
He screamed and yelled as he let out his gravy,
he licked Arthur's eyes and cried "too bad theirs no baby!"
Arthur's eyes turned red, mad with such rage,
he snapped off his **** and thrashed the old sage.
He ripped out his stomach and had it ****** clean,
he shat on the sack and ****** on his spleen.
He stripped off his shirt and threw him on a bed,
then blasted a load, my word he was dead!
he ******* the mans carcass and licked his curved spine,
he exploded with power and yelled "By God it is time!"
And with a snap of his fingers the man turned to dust,
Arthur then cackled "well he earned my trust".
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
Rippling down the stream
Of many peoples consciousness
An effervescent future life
Stripped of this abhorrent distress
A future filled with study
Free for each and every human being
A world with no false borders
A world with far less disagreeing
And a universal language
Forged with available technology
That translates in real time
Enhanced with anthropology
Giving us a precise understanding
Of how each other achieve solutions
A pragmatic communication
Circumnavigating ****** revolutions
We would calculate the earths resources
And how to evenly distribute them
Then we would dispose of pointless cash
Like ill people dispose of phlegm
Our centralised political weasels
That do far more harm than good
Would be replaced by microchips
Programmed to not be misunderstood
It is an interesting proposal
To those with a humane conscience
But to those smugly enjoying advantage
I guess it is annoying nonsense
So we must wait for millions to be displaced
For total world economic collapse
The greedy spoilt brats will listen then
Or will they continually relapse?
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC