"bratty" poems
*Chew that gum,
Flick that wrist,
And be that bratty little princess,
That nobody wants to kiss,
Oh, Prince Charming?
He's hoppin' on his horse,
Riding to the sunset,
To get away from you,
So shut your face,
Chew your gum,
And be a ******* diva,
Wearing that ******* crown.*
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
does it
make you wet
getting spanked
by daddy
for being
bad
and bratty
Feb 23, 2022
Feb 23, 2022 at 6:47 PM UTC
If you were granted the gift of temporary flight...
Would you ascend...
Just so you could feast your eyes
on the horizon,
beyond the confines of weather-worn tiles
set upon unsuspecting rooftops.
Would you take soar...
Just so you could briefly leave the ground
below.
And as the land beneath you diminishes,
all that's you tethered to your earth
almost instantly would turn into nothing
but specks of insignificance.
Would you fly free...
Just so your heart could entertain the possibility
of being ensnared by the breathtaking
view of the sun,
as it rests its pompous girth upon its bed of
clouds;
Like a bratty king sprawled over lavish sheets.
Would you burst through the boundary...
That separates heaven and earth.
Just so you could be bewitched by the full blown
moon,
be enthralled by the siren calls of the stars,
and be a part of the spectacle that is the
universe...
If you were granted the gift of momentary flight...
Would you still ascend?
Knowing full well that soon gravity would claim
you with less than no pity nor remorse.
And all that you had complacently forsaken...
Will greet you with the harshest of punishments.
I would.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
Little Box talks back
With a new set of teeth
And pink gums
A fake nose and a wax mustache
She disguises her voice
To sound like Groucho
•
Little Box opens up
And cries to her psychiatrist
I don’t know why they hate me
I’m such a sweetheart
I volunteer at the zoo
And teach Mandarin
To their bratty children
•
Little Box is not happy to see you
So she closes herself up for months
Years, decades, and two millennia!
She tacks up a sign that says
Nirvana
•
Little Box is undead
She sleeps all day in a coffin
Hands over chest
At night she cruises the mall
For juicy victims
She prefers type A
But AB if she has to
What can you say
Vampires can’t be choosy
She likes your stupid brother
•
Little Box is on the psychiatry couch
Everybody hates me
Nobody loves me
Little Box lies on her side
And spills her guts
•
What’s in Little Box
A perfect orchid
A chocolate-covered strawberry
A new iPhone
With a glittery sleeve
Amber earrings from Pushkin
Keys to a new Porsche
A retro Chanel brooch
A Getty scion’s left ear
A Czar’s *****
Gifts so rare
Please don’t stare
•
What’s in Little Box
Rancid chow mein
A sliver of cold pizza
Last week’s hummus
You’re a starving orphan
From East Brooklyn
And you’ll eat it
•
So you want to **** Little Box
You want to know her secret
She won’t open up
She won’t give it up
And you are genuinely repelled
By her filthy ribbon
•
You want to DO the Little Box
You are a sorry story
You big creep
Why don’t you get off the couch and find
A real girlfriend!
•
Boss Box
White, square, and without a soul!
•
Please don’t analyze Little Box
She’s just cardboard clogging the landfill
Her mother Precious Jade Purse
Has been regifted
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC
Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce
Too many bowls of that green, no lucky charms
The maids come around too much
Parents ain't around enough
Too many joy rides in daddy's jaguar
Too many white lies and white lines
Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends
Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends
Start my day up on the roof
There's nothing like this type of view
Point the clicker at the tube
I prefer expensive news
New car, new girl
New ice, new glass
New watch, good times babe
It's good times, yeah
She wash my back three times a day
This shower head feels so amazing
We'll both be high, the help don't stare
They just walk by, they must don't care
A million one, a million two
A hundred more will never do
Real love, I'm searching for a real love
Real love, I'm searching for a real love
Oh, real love
Close your eyes for what you can't imagine, we are the xany gnashing
Caddy smashing, bratty *** he mad, he snatched his daddy's Jag
And used the **** for batting practice, adamant and he thrashing
Purchasing ****** grams with half the hand of cash you handed
Panicking, patch me up, Pappy done latch keyed us
Toying with Raggy Anns and mammy done had enough
Brash as **** breaching all these aqueducts; don't believe us
Treat us like we can't erupt, yup
We end our day up on the roof
I say I'll jump, I never do
But when I'm drunk I act a fool
Talking 'bout , do they sew wings on tailored suits
I'm on that ledge, she grabs my arm
She slaps my head
It's good times, yeah
Sleeve rips off, I slip, I fall
The market's down like 60 stories
And some don't end the way they should
My silver spoon has fed me good
A million one, a million cash
Close my eyes and feel the crash
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
she was young
and had struggled all her life
like a cursed devil doll
with the darkest impulses
pain was ***
*** was pleasure
and death she thought
oh wow thats an ******
while her little girl friends
all
may berry kittens and sunshine
screamed in terror
at the horror films
like minced mice in cleavers
she thrilled to the part
where little innocent
katty bratty blondy
got it hard and ******
with an ice pick in the belly
and then stumbled
around
waring her surprise face
blink-less
trailing blood
finally getting to the ice box
pulling out her last
ice cream on a stick
and while eating it
fell head first into the cooler
dead
she thrilled witnessing
the girl poked through
like butter
by a guy with eyes
like spider bites
in a jet black
motor cycle jacket
and electric bolt tattoos on his face
all blond
duck assed
jelled like filigree in
wild root cream hair tonic
she imagined his ****
pink longish arterial
a real throat gager
she, helpless, sacrificial
and oh so willing
being murdered by a boy
who loved her that way
his **** a
a piercing blade
the very death of her
her little hot pink ***** *******
a gooey cauldron
of drooling tears splatter
she thought
how can any body want this
Oh but i do
*** yes please
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
the cardiologist, in passing, remarks, or perhaps,
“re-marks” my ECG test, casually revealing
that every fifteen or twenty or so of my regularly scheduled
hearts beats, an extra one sneaks it, which appears
unlike all the rest of those normative little hillocks
pointing skyward, ^ ^ ^ V ^ ^ ^ ^
yep that one,
sneaky ****** slips in, pointing downwards
like a class clown always disrupting classroom’s good order…
Doc reassures it don’t mean a thing
if you got that extra swing,
and our friendly informing internet reassures:
“The idea of your heartbeat going rogue may sound alarming.
But in most cases, an ectopic beat is a harmless condition.
It's also a common one”
but yet I am intrinsically intrigued,
oh yeah, that’s an intentional funny double entendre,
but methinks that explains
so much of my irregular, irreverent poetry scribbling,
particularly because this bratty beat be best addressed directly as:
“You Little Rogue!”
a highly scientific term,
taught in medical schools by non-poets,
but needy for definitions that the layman
can love and keep in their
heart shaped hands…
Nov 4, 2023
Nov 4, 2023 at 8:17 AM UTC
That I'm cute
Beautiful
Pretty
And I tell them that
It's okay that I'm not
Because I know I'm not
But I don't like being lied to
I know I'm not
Because I can't let tears
Drip down my cheeks
As they shimmer in the dim light
Of the movie credits
I sob until
My face is red and damp and puffy
And I'm clinging to your sleeve
And just crying so uncontrollably
That people sitting next to us
In the dark theater
Might glimpse over to see if maybe
I have a reason to cry so hard.
Does shehave cancer?
Is she missing a leg?
Did her crack-addict mother die when she was an infant?
Why is this bratty straight white blonde girl crying while watching Selma/Dallas Buyer's Club/The Help?
I have to brush my hair
Instantly
When I get out of the pool
In the summer
(Hopping from foot to foot of course
Because the sun has baked the concrete)
Because if I don't
It becomes a half-curly knotted mess.
And if I don't braid it directly after that
Then it dries
In resemblance to a Yield Sign
In a somewhat triangular form
And I'm chubby.
Not fat. It would be better if I were fat.
If I were fat then things would be
Proportionalish
But instead I'm just
A 5'2 and 3/4" girl
With DDs that no one wants
Because ***** don't count when you're chubby"
And baby fat that lounges on my stomach
No matter how many kilometers I row.
My fingers are too small for my hands.
My glasses make my eyes look huge.
My lips are forever chapped.
My cheeks are overly red.
My eyes are too dark to be pretty
And I know it.
I know all of it.
I've lived in my body for longer than you have.
So don't lie to me.
Don't tell me that I'm cute
Beautiful
Or god forbid pretty
Because I really
Really
Hate being lied to.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
If not to tempt the temperaments of lesser men, I shall bludgeon the object of our obsessions again, just to watch the reddened britches go un-itched, as my grinning is met with dissatisfaction, impacting the over expressed whining of gentle wimps, flailing, and stomping as disgruntled chimps, flinging feces from the cages again.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
Albert Day was one of a kind,
A middle aged man,
with a much younger mind.
Some claimed he was crazy,
some said "Just ********
some said as a child
he was left brokenhearted.
Whatever the reasons
it didn't quite matter,
for Albert cared not
for the first or the latter.
Let them say what they wanted,
stupid fools with worthless lives.
Bratty kids... barking dogs...
know it all's with cheating wives.
He knew more of them,
then they knew of each other.
What they knew of him,
he had learned from his mother.
He knew he was useless,
nobody could love him.
No wonder to Albert,
that's what they thought of him.
Albert lived in a small mountain town,
a place he believed to know well.
The annual picnic was coming around,
Albert figured he'd go for a spell.
It wasn't like Albert to be in a crowd,
these people were hard on his eyes.
But this year he'd go,
this year he'd be proud,
for this year he had a surprise.
Saturday dawned with a bright blue sky.
Albert awoke with a smile.
He didn't know how
he didn't know why
but he did know today was worthwhile.
Townspeople gathered at Finnigans Park
with umbrellas, and sunscreen, and chairs.
Albert arrived with his mind in the dark,
stupid fools, how they're left unawares.
Alone on his blanket he sat and he watched,
as festivities got underway.
Wondering when to contribute,
his festivities to this fine day.
He studied the husbands,
he stared at the wives.
Watched the kids as they played in the sun.
His patience wore thin,
yet he still wore his grin,
reaching into his sock for his gun.
It only took seconds to squeeze the trigger.
Just seconds to see them all fall.
He thought to himself as he watched them...
stupid fools.... you don't know me at all.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 3:20 PM UTC
little pills
to cure your ills
prescription fills
the bottle spills...
not to be catty
you're being bratty
rolling a fatty
and getting chatty...
you are crunchy
getting the munchies
getting chunky
like a monkey!
how's your wallet?
workaholic?
did i call it?
get the gold
you were once bold
now you're old...
don't get huffed
but
have you enough
STUFF???
losing vision
reclined position
TELEVISION
always scheming
never doing
you're pretty boring
there daydreaming...
see her bopping
'til she's dropping
out there shopping
the door is shutting
you're alone
to the bone
while you're cutting
what's YOUR thing?
will it bring
you
everything?
it's SO nice!
any vice
will entice
TAKE MY ADVICE!
don't be idle!
take the BRIDLE!
IT'S AN IDOL!
there's an award
when you've scored
with the LORD!
don't applaud.
we're all sod
HE IS GOD!
SøułSurvivør
(C) 9/2017
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 2:02 AM UTC
What the hell is a katydid?
Is it near where the carotid is hid?
And, is there a reason we need
To know whatever Katy did?
Why does macaroni have an elbow?
This sounds to me a lot like a phony.
And how far back and forward does it go?
Really? Anthropomorphized macaroni?
What kind of person puts a bra on a car?
I mean, the entire idea is a bit bizarre,
One of the silliest I have heard of so far.
Does anyone know what automoboobies are?
Can people play poker with potato chips?
Maybe they’ll up the ante with avocado dip?
Then Vegas would not be such a wise trip.
Gives a new meaning to being ‘in the chips’.
Who gets to legally use a homophone?
And can anyone properly use it alone?
Since we no longer dial, why dial tone?
Some of this stuff if from the Twilight Zone.
Political parties don’t seem to be fun,
Not even for the lucky ones that won.
It must mean something that people run
But they look like something to run from.
Why would anybody put money into a kitty.
What is the matter that they have no pity?
After all, most kitties are way itty bitty.
So, stop putting money into a poor kitty!
And this putting on the dog stuff annoys.
It sounds like the game of bratty boys;
They finally get old enough to ignore toys
And play word games on a dog. Oh joy!
And what does it mean to horse around?
Is it the pantomime horse worn by clowns?
It can’t be the kind of horse one rides around?
That kind might trample a fool into the ground.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
Spoiled and rotten,
to the core
something like this should be forgotten
I never acted like this before
Spoiled, and bratty
***** this, I'm lazy
The comments, snide and catty
I ******* love you, do you think I'm crazy?
Dec 31, 2010
Dec 31, 2010 at 10:16 PM UTC
Cry quietly in a corner
Don't make a big scene
Don't let anyone think something's wrong
Remember not to be mean
Cry quietly in a corner
Don't drown anyone in your sorrow
You only have to live through today
You can **** yourself tomorrow
Cry quietly in a corner
Shield yourself from the world
For all they know you just like to cause trouble
Just a bratty little girl
Cry quietly in a corner
Don't let them see your pain
What's the most that they can do, help?
But what from that can you gain?
Cry quietly in a corner
They'll never know what's wrong
When you try to tell he says
"Those **** emo songs"
Cry quietly in a corner
Like the whiner they think you are
Like they care about the reason
Your wrist looks like it has bars
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
pleasant-to-be duney minded sediments of mood-blooming yet to calcify light wind and arbor harbour from record heats meat fed steaming sun looming life bawling upon the venue hosted with joshing glee but experimenting with confused bratty states mottled and strobed in the brushed shade for now a stood peace
Aug 25, 2022
Aug 25, 2022 at 7:39 AM UTC
What to write about?
Should I speak of my love?
It's continued development,
The lessons learned and hurts hastily covered with blue coloured bandaids and a kiss?
A favoured topic to be sure.
Shall I rhyme about lust?
Love's charm without the rust,
Your soft body beneath me a must,
That this need will fade, unjust.
Once departed, lacking love, this passion returns to dust.
What is left?
Hate does not touch me,
Not in this country,
Not in my city of cherry blossoms and sunshine,
Or darkly overcast skies coupled with soft misting rain. (Depression?)
Not today!
Death is a foreign entity.
I am not unsullied,
Yet I do think much more of this ***** than as life's bratty little sister.
Necessary,
Which may one day grow into something beautiful to be admired,
But for now is nothing more than crayons coloured outside of the lines.
I guess I should not write at all.
For what worth is there to put pen to paper,
(Finger to touch screen),
When my muse is silently humming a tune to which only she knows the words?
I can hear the rhythm,
My blood pulses with it's beat,
But I cannot glean the meaning.
Therefore I am done,
For this poem is about nothing.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
everywhere I turned there was a screeching child around every aisle
begging, whining, crying,
faces red, tears rolling as they throw probably their fifth or sixth temper tamtrum all day
right there in the middle of walmart
parents faced drained of life
trying to get in and out
while rounding up their child
dragging them by the arm
giving them what they want so they stop asking even three aisles away from the object
I bent down to grab my cupcake holders and I hear little feet running up beside me
and a young boy goes bolting by me,
a box of fruit roll ups in his hands
and I watch as he throws it in the cart and the mother continue to walk as if that didn't just happen
as I stand the sound of screams echoes
through the grocery section
and all I can think is
GO GO GO
GET ME OUT OF HERE
my lungs felt heavy
my breath was coming in quick
small gasps
I started sweating under my arm pits
my mind closing around the sounds of
bratty children screaming behind me
beside me
in front of me
as if the sounds were taunting me
I dropped the two items I had on a random shelf and headed toward the door as fast as my feet would take me
pushed open the doors and ran to my car
where I turned the ignition on
stepped on the gas and flew out of the parking lot
I gasped for air when I got on the road
I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath
was that going to be my life?
was I about to nurture
love
clean
change diapers
fall in love
with a hateful, selfish, evil little demon
that would fool me for a few months of absolutely adorable babyness before turning into Satan spawn right before my eyes
begging, screaming, whining when they don't get their way
who was I kidding
I've always hated children
and in return they've hated me back
just last week a boy told me my leggings were gay
what made me think my son would be any different?
I didn't calm down until I got to sit in silence
just the sound of my cars engine
and my own breathing
I swore right then and there
even if it kills me, I would never let my child be that kid
I refused to let my life end up the way those parents in walmart had turned out
kids will be kids but my child will
never chase a pregnant woman out of a store in an absolute panic second guessing motherhood
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
I am the repetition of many stories.
Death,
Heartbreak,
Anxiety,
Mistrust,
Isolation,
Vulnerable,
Repetition.
Is it okay to hate myself,
If I'm just like every story that
People hate?
Dreaming too much
With too little accomplishment?
Anticlimactic?
Insensitive?
Destructive?
Rude?
Wasteful?
Bratty?
Never getting it
Through my thick skull?
I do too many things wrong,
My good will never outweigh my bad.
I trust and love people
More than I should.
More than I trust and love myself.
If you knew who I really was,
Could you see my mask?
Would you hate me for it?
Sorry.
I said too much again.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
Grizzly bear lay on the library floor.
Just his skin, really.
The bratty kids spilling red fruit punch on him.
He didn't like to be this way.
He shut his eyes and he dreamed back.
Back to the taxidermy shop with its formaldehyde odor
And jars of glass eyes.
A fat man with a dull knife
Ripping his flesh from his bones.
He didn't like to be this way.
He shut his eyes and he dreamed back.
Back to when he was heaped onto the cold metal pickup bed
Piled crossways on top of two dead deer
His large head flopped on a cooler of smelly fish,
Exposed to the wind and snow
For hours.
He didn't like to be this way.
He shut his eyes and he dreamed back.
Back to the moment when bullet hit bone,
When his crystal clear vision darkened.
When his mighty roar was silenced
Forever.
He didn't like to be this way.
He shut his eyes and he dreamed back.
Back to the crisp fall mornings
Standing in the river
Feasting on salmon
Tall and proud
The master of his domain.
He liked being this way.
He dreamed hard to try to stay there.
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
Now I know,
This is the first time we've
spoke.
But, I wanna be you.
I wanna wear your skin as a
cloak.
In your ambiance, I will
soak
And when they speak my name, i'll say who?
I wanna wear your clothes as
mine.
I want to live your life.
I want your receding
hairline.
I want your growing
waistline.
I want to love your wife.
9-5, I'd work your
job.
I'd love your bratty son.
In the suburbs, a faceless
blob.
I wouldn't be an upturned
slob.
And when I'd sit in your car or your study, I wouldn't think of a noose nor a gun.
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
Cry quietly in a corner
Don't make a big scene
Don't let anyone know your hurting
Remember not to be mean
Cry quietly in a corner
Don't drown anyone in your sorrow
You only have to live through today
You can **** yourself tomorrow
Cry quietly in a corner
Shield yourself from the world
For all they know you just like to cause trouble
Just a bratty lille girl
Cry quietly in a corner
They'll never know whats wrong
When you try to tell they say
Those **** emo songs
Cry quietly in a corner
Like the whiner they think you are
Like they care about the reason
Your wrist looks like it has bars
Apr 20, 2011
Apr 20, 2011 at 4:46 PM UTC
I can't stop fidgeting.
My stomach is going through a repetitive cycle of being turned inside out.
The voices of bratty adolescents are muffled through the floor.
In front of me are three self portraits.
None of which are happy.
What are you doing.
It's not time to go out yet.
I don't think i'll shower, either,
because there's no real reason.
I wont be seeing you tonight.
My nine year old sister and her friend are cackling in the room over.
Your smile comes to mind.
All these medications are driving me insane,
but in a way i've come to love it.
Being able to talk about things,
even though I really don't want to.
Why do so many people say live every day like it's your last,
yet judge the ones that do.
I feel like I'm sinking in a ocean of growing up,
and doing work.
With only a slice of playfulness out of the corner of my eye.
what on earth is going on outside my door.
I've chosen to stay in
because today,
I like the company of my thoughts.
Even if they're not pleasant.
Right now
me:
girl
at desk
can't stay still
ankles crossed
light blue jeans
on the edge of her chair
gray shirt
long blonde wavy hair
glasses
energetic fingers
makeup run down her face.
Being in love with you has slowly killed me over the years,
but I still don't mind it.
I only wish that I could be for you
what you are to me.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
••
••
Cabin round the bend
Bad-ass dudes live there
•
She can't go near
What if she would want to stay?
••
Best get back to School
She knows all them high school games
•
She knows how to blame
Every thing on LOVER BOY
He
( her broken toy )
Alas !
Is her DRUG OF CHOICE!
••
All them BAD-ASS DUDES
Treat her as the JOKE she is
Little high school bratty kid
Don't give a **** about anyone
Don't know **** about anything
••
She don't realize
Age of 30 comin soon
And she will need some bad - *** dude
To get her down the line
••
Cabin round the bend
Bad-ass dudes live there
Just what will she say
When they do ask her to stay?
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
It was November, dry and crisp
The priest kept talking with his lisp
The funeral home deserved itself
As pictures of it were on the shelf
Someone kept munching on some chips
Avoiding his teeth, ******* the juice out with his lips
So not to make a noise, keep it a bore
He knew he'd get evil eyes at the dollar store
Everyone was dressed in black,
The bratty kid, the mom, and Jack
The latter man still eating the chips
All Jack could think of is where was the dip
No one was really sobbing, barely a sniffle
Old time's sake was nothing but stifled
No air conditioning, no fan turned on
Jack looked at the fan, seeming fond
T'was a bore.
No one missed her.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
Artists and Athletes to these Numbers bind
And no more could such Cross-Feelings exact
By Pen, Brush or Note we exploit the Mind
Through Land, Sea and Air you employ the Rack
Either way, our Skills classify the Mage
And Family the Unit must Magnify
Yet - as Bratty Ambition plagues our Cake
Such Blessed Market plomb your Qualify
What more have we got? Save our Printed Creeds
Compare those Olympians we can't compete
For Sponsors promote; And Patrons at-beads
Whether which Craft will Supply or Deplete.
It depends. Since Nativity-of-Space
Where all Lights are spread; Which most Fame is based.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 9:21 AM UTC