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"chav" poems
Look at all these wannabe gangsters Terrorising our streets That one's wearing camouflage trousers Just wait till you hear him speak 'Dems bear skills mate' 'Can you lend me fifty bar?' He sounds like he's from Los Angeles Doing time in the yard But he's not He still lives at home with his mum And his pregnant girlfriend And he's under the thumb You see them outside Tesco But they're not shopping for pesto Let's go They've seen the old bill He's known around this town For selling dodgy pills Guns, knives and slang That's what you need If you wanna be in their gang No education Just a stolen Playstation And don't forget the **** Even on a school night They're out doing speed You'll see 'em in the park With a bottle of cider Then they'll start On a poor old-timer Tracky bottoms And a Burberry hat Chav fashion Cause they think they're all that But the funny thing is They don't have a clue They don't think like Me or you They think that they're rap stars Dreaming of fast cars But they're just wankers More like 'wannabe gangsters'
0
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 2:38 PM UTC
Wannabe Gangsters
Seetaro mai akela chaand si thi wo Foolon ka mehekta guldan si thi wo Thi nadi jaisi aviral,chanchal mere dil ka haal si thi wo Ghani dhoop mai chav si thi wo Kisi geet ki addaon si thi wo Thi hava si mehekti, komal Mere dil ka bhav si thi wo Beech majhdhaar mai nav si thi wo Khusian ka pura gaon si thi wo Thi koyal si meethi,nishchal Mere man ka abhiman si thi wo Paido par wo patto waali hari bhari koi daal si thi wo Holi ke rango mai sabse saadi ek akeli gulaal si thi wo Thi wadi kasmiri koi Mere geeton ka sur aur taal si thi wo Mandir mai wo shankhnaad si,pooja ka prasad si thi wo Baarish mai mitti ki khushboo,badal ka dharti se sanvaad si thi wo Thi meri wo beti pyari,usse hi ghar 'harshit' tha Mere ghar mai sooraj si,Mere ghar ki shaan si thi wo Thi ab wo jo nahi rahi,aakhir khata kya thi ki usne mana hi to kia tha na beta shaadi se, Par dosti ka haath bhi to badhaya tha Teri Bezatti toh nahi thi ki usne Fir kyun tune usko har ghar badnaam kia Dushman na kare,dost hokar tune aisa kaam kia Chali gayi ab chhod ke mujhko,wo akele jeevan ki saanjh mai Meri khushiyan,meri duniya,meri pyari jaan si thi wo Meri pyari jaan si thi wo
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Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 7:46 AM UTC
Meri Beti
Teri zulfon k chav mei chamakta yeh chand sa chehra, Aab isse jyada mai tujse aur kuch na keh raha. Sunane ko bahut kuch hai Par sun ne ko koi nahi. Mana galti thi meri Kya mai Maafi k layak hu nahi?
0
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 3:42 PM UTC
Kya mai maafi k layak nahi?
Bachpan ka samay kabhi na lautkar aata , Har waqt bus yaadon ka aasma reh jaata , Khelte the hum bhi khub dhul ko udel ko, Maaf kr diye jate hamare sabhi galtiya aur bhul ko, Jab chaha has lete they , Aur jab chaha ro dete they , Chhote chhote aankhon me sapne bade hote the, Na kisi se bair,sare log apne hote the, Par ab tou aansuo ko chahiye tanhayi , Chehre par sirf jhoothi muskaan hai chhayi , Zindagi ki tapish mein kab bachpan guzar gaya , Kab bachhe se bade ** gye zindagi ki daur mein nazar hi nahi aaya , Kya din they chalate they baarish mein nao  Ab khud ko chupane ke liye sochtey hain kha jao,   Na kuch paane ki aasha thi or na kuch khone ka drrrr, Mast rehte they jaha apni hi dhun idhar udhar, Koi lauta de bachpan ka sawan Fir se mehak jayega mere dil ka aangan , Khelte they khilone se aaj khud khilona ban gaye , Bachpan ke sunhere pal na jaane kha kho gaye, Maa se lipatne ke bahane bnate, Maa ke aanchal ke chav me hi so jate, Chhote se kadam se saitaniya bde karte the, Papa Ki pyari daat pr bhi ro dete the, Jab bhi rota mai,Maa apne sine se laga leti thi, Sahlake haath sar pr mere muskura deti thi, Maa ka dudh jaise amrit ka pyala tha, Sach me hamara bachpan bahut hi nirala tha, Amrit ka Ek ghut pi kar bhi khush ** jate the, Duniya ka sabse bda sukh maa ke aanchal me hi pate the, Yaad hai hume wo khubsurat bachpan ke pal, Muskura dete hum jab bhi yaad aate wo sunhare bite kal........ 4th collab. Poem composed by Sonia Paruthi & Manish Shrivastva
0
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
BACHPAN
Bachpan ka samay kabhi na lautkar aata , Har waqt bus yaadon ka aasma reh jaata , Khelte the hum bhi khub dhul ko udel ko, Maaf kr diye jate hamare sabhi galtiya aur bhul ko, Jab chaha has lete they , Aur jab chaha ro dete they , Chhote chhote aankhon me sapne bade hote the, Na kisi se bair,sare log apne hote the, Par ab tou aansuo ko chahiye tanhayi , Chehre par sirf jhoothi muskaan hai chhayi , Zindagi ki tapish mein kab bachpan guzar gaya , Kab bachhe se bade ** gye zindagi ki daur mein nazar hi nahi aaya , Kya din they chalate they baarish mein nao  Ab khud ko chupane ke liye sochtey hain kha jao,   Na kuch paane ki aasha thi or na kuch khone ka drrrr, Mast rehte they jaha apni hi dhun idhar udhar, Koi lauta de bachpan ka sawan Fir se mehak jayega mere dil ka aangan , Khelte they khilone se aaj khud khilona ban gaye , Bachpan ke sunhere pal na jaane kha kho gaye, Maa se lipatne ke bahane bnate, Maa ke aanchal ke chav me hi so jate, Chhote se kadam se saitaniya bde karte the, Papa Ki pyari daat pr bhi ro dete the, Jab bhi rota mai,Maa apne sine se laga leti thi, Sahlake haath sar pr mere muskura deti thi, Maa ka dudh jaise amrit ka pyala tha, Sach me hamara bachpan bahut hi nirala tha, Amrit ka Ek ghut pi kar bhi khush ** jate the, Duniya ka sabse bda sukh maa ke aanchal me hi pate the, Yaad hai hume wo khubsurat bachpan ke pal, Muskura dete hum jab bhi yaad aate wo sunhare bite kal........ 4th collab. Poem composed by Sonia Paruthi & Manish Shrivastva
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He struts through the street With an arrogant stride A staffy at his feet Fills him with pride Baseball cap on his head Peak points in the air Yea blood I'm hard And I don't seem to care Trackies and hoodies Are the code of his dress Big golden chains Hang low on his chest Sock's pulled up high Above his designer boots I'm a council house chav So proud of me roots I'm hard and I know it And I'll rob ya of bread Don't mess with me Or you'll end up dead His attitude stinks Filth falls from his gob With a chip on his shoulder He don't want a job But under the bravado He's as quiet as a mouse Living his life From his council house His mum is on drugs His dad is long gone No wonder this bloke Turned out to be wrong So show him some kindness Just a friendly word Might just be the the thing That stops him doing bird I somehow much doubt it But its worth a try Cause deep underneath He's a friendly guy
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Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 3:16 AM UTC
The friendly Chav
I wanna marry a chav that looks just like Britney Spears, now, not ten years ago--- Barefoot & pregnant in yoga pants, Barefoot mother slipping into black stockings--- She idolizes her rivals, Wants to be her own evil-twin--- I wanna marry the **** out of her & watch her belly grow in the sundaddy-o--- I want to take her *** To the ****** Islands--- And watch her beached, She is the opposite of who she is--- Completely manic up & running She who stays within reach Of images drowned Between an old lady’s thighs--- Mother slips on black pantyhose, Adjusting the waist over her ******* On Thursdays, sunnyside every other day --- Mother 8 months preggers in yoga pants
0
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 9:58 PM UTC
Sundaddy-o
Moon zoos zoos on the moon in white man spaceship zoos on moon, earth chavs chavs on the earth in a burberry chav ship chavs on the earth, sun ***** ***** on the sun in racist spaceship ***** on the sun.
0
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
spaceships
you know that, only in england you can wear a t-shirt in january, and concede that (it's chav scots clearing the path): reading a søren kierkegaard book qualifies you as mentally ill? odd, isn't it? read a philosophy book get a psychiatrist... where's the ******* bookmark?
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Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
bookmark
DONT DO DRUGS KIDS O a sis, John cooper clarke. Pink floyd, getting ****** in the park. ****** crack co caine. ****** messed up again. Council estate, tmazipan, ****** taliban. A paper cup and a ball of string, Ive lost me phone I'll use anythin. Trying to get hold of my man, Thames Valley police catch me if u can. Tried to get the monkey off my back, fallen down and landed in the crack .. between the pavements, easy street, walking round no shoes on ma feet. Touch this and you'll get burnt. Been 20 years and I still havent learnt. Loosing teeth, bad legs, getting older. Are the winters getting colder? Global warming ... What the **** ****** ..coming in on a salad truck. Chav pants, naff fkin trainers, little going on ... no brainers. Mental health, welfare state, think your spot on, think your great. Urban people telling how it is. Fk me, took to much whizz. Walking round, feeling fantastic, look at me dancing, pretty tragic really ... Stupidly asked some bloke to dance, now im in the back of an amb ulance. A saturday casualty. Its an average weekend for me. Going mad, on a ****** **** you world, No surrender. (c) mandy rigby and p skez 2012) (now 4 yrs clean .. can i get an Amen?)
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May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
DONT DO DRUGS KIDS
Sometimes in life, I pause where I stand and take a breath, Forgetting about my sorrows and strife. For once not fearing death. Sometimes I live, Like the seed of a tree, Not needing to forget, or forgive, Just flying around; free. Sometimes I lie, Just to get people off my back. I'm feeling upset because of a guy, But it's not like many people really give a crap. Sometimes I cry, Because I want to let out the stress I have Over that one guy, Who is just a chav. Sometimes I smile Because once in a great while, He makes my happy Even though at the same time he makes me life ****** Sometimes I shake, I can't handle what's really at stake; Loosing someone like you, Is something I can't live through. Sometimes I want to scream; You did break my heart And I'm only happy in dreams, Where we're not living worlds apart. Sometimes I want to yell, Because you feel compelled, To keep secretes from me, As if it'll keep from making bad memories. Sometimes, I feel the pain You caused with a knife, Through my heart's vain's. Nearly ending the meaning of my life. And yet, Somehow. . . Somehow in life, I pause where I sit, Taking a breath, no longer feeling the knife, Planted there by some twit.
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Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 12:59 AM UTC
Life.
Those cosmopolitan provincials sorts the chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains them retro-grade grade-less sub-humans bottom feeders who think Cardiff is in East Angular and Magaluf is Eden and Higher Education begins in Borstal or a stint at HM Prisons found by happenstance a tin of Caviar something they'd never seen before with the curiosity of practiced thieves they proceeded to examine its worth 'its a tin of hair gel says one' 'No, no, no says another, I think its something you eat' 'it says Caviar Royal Beluga, observes another' 'throw it away, anything with a name like that is rubbish' 'Beluga...some foreign muck, it look dark and oily' 'yea mate, look like **** throw it away' One of the dis-advantaged rabble with one O'level in Carpentry took a closer look   'look he says, there's sticker on the bottom that reads Caviar Royal Beluga – 1kg £3,780.00' Hahahaha they all roared in ceaseless mirth, hahaha 'some joker is having a laugh, pull the other leg, fancy... a tin of black gunge in some slimy stuff cost three grand, must think people are born yesterday, Beluga..fuckoffluga' And with that, they tossed the tin away and walked off laughing like ********* Ignorance is a disease, ignorance is bliss will vandals extol the sheer magnificence of a Constable or see anything other than a chair in a Chippendale ribbonback chair, will Barbarians shed a tear on hearing the sensuous notes of Chopin or shiver at the graceful notes of Debussy or melt in sheer adoration as Tchaikovsky's romance soars in magical resonance.   Will cosmopolitan heathens gape in mesmerizing wonder on seeing Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel and praise God for being alive So who has great expectations of our dear cosmopolitan provincials sorts those chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains for in disparaging excellence and rubbishing  the noble and the exceptional they make us appreciate more that we are blessed and privileged and do not have semolina for brains hey! who would like some caviar
0
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 6:40 AM UTC
Chav's reign in Ambergris
Those cosmopolitan provincials sorts the chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains them retro-grade grade-less sub-humans bottom feeders who think Cardiff is in East Angular and Magaluf is Eden and Higher Education begins in Borstal or a stint at HM Prisons found by happenstance a tin of Caviar something they'd never seen before with the curiosity of practiced thieves they proceeded to examine its worth 'its a tin of hair gel says one' 'No, no, no says another, I think its something you eat' 'it says Caviar Royal Beluga, observes another' 'throw it away, anything with a name like that is rubbish' 'Beluga...some foreign muck, it look dark and oily' 'yea mate, look like **** throw it away' One of the dis-advantaged rabble with one O'level in Carpentry took a closer look   'look he says, there's sticker on the bottom that reads Caviar Royal Beluga – 1kg £3,780.00' Hahahaha they all roared in ceaseless mirth, hahaha 'some joker is having a laugh, pull the other leg, fancy... a tin of black gunge in some slimy stuff cost three grand, must think people are born yesterday, Beluga..fuckoffluga' And with that, they tossed the tin away and walked off laughing like ********* Ignorance is a disease, ignorance is bliss will vandals extol the sheer magnificence of a Constable or see anything other than a chair in a Chippendale ribbonback chair, will Barbarians shed a tear on hearing the sensuous notes of Chopin or shiver at the graceful notes of Debussy or melt in sheer adoration as Tchaikovsky's romance soars in magical resonance.   Will cosmopolitan heathens gape in mesmerizing wonder on seeing Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel and praise God for being alive So who has great expectations of our dear cosmopolitan provincials sorts those chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains for in disparaging excellence and rubbishing  the noble and the exceptional they make us appreciate more that we are blessed and privileged and do not have semolina for brains hey! who would like some caviar
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such that you are, a bane of hurt that to him a rib, a bane of craft rebellious that i too rebellious against my creator - i did indeed take a book into the forest like i'd take a slice of glass into a desert, and herded horses, eating camomile flowers, gesticulating, pouring beer into my hand and letting them drink it, watching the ******* sunset of london like watching a Chav buying underwear in Primark + Armani = Primani... the pair of them walked home... i ripped off flowers from the spring bloom crop to ease the footing... something resembling Lavender and indeed camellia: a wedding, no pause - for their feet treading - the most colourful garbage littered and not bothered - just left intact, like the many shades of autumnal auburn littering the streets come November.
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Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:19 PM UTC
herding horses
Searching me down looking for the prada thinking every chav is selling narcotta I am a university man I said well you resemble a local crackhead said the rude fed Whats with those meds I went chemist for my mum Do you think we're dumb? tell us the truth son those drugs are full your addiction and that bike do you have permission? no its my sisters she's at college she recently left that's technically thief
0
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 9:28 PM UTC
**** tha Authorities
It never a good idea to make anchors out of bread or use Plasticine to make triggers and worse of all you take dumb indiscipline juvenile street mongrels and say, these are our soldiers what are they going to do attack by blowing **** smoke at the enemy or do a killer dissing rap (they do that already in poetry and its laughable **** perhaps they will chav the enemy to death or most likely and now this is genius and actually workable abject stupidity can actually Bore people to death aah....I need to go and find something to stimulate my mind
0
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 3:54 PM UTC
they can bore the *** of kim kardashian
mindful... i still have a worth of half a steak's worth of frying to do... to the ultimatum: medium rare... roses are red: but only well cooked steaks are pink... "chewwy", side note: bite bite.        by now... the world is anything and everything but a beautiful place,    to write such words. for a song to make you cry, for a song to make you itchy... of this flesh...   but of the same sense of flesh, without a sense of belonging... and then coming across a borrowing of "reiteration"... that lost sense of appeasement... self-congratulation was never made into a charles dickens' novel... pride, pride: i too 'ide... and 'yde... fucking bollocks' worth of a hidden gem's worth of a "winner"... ah wee, ah chew, i chewie... -wwy... chav and the chavvy liquorice all-sorts of the new vatican: the victorian puritans... ah chewbacca... ah the disgruntled masses... ah this, ah the other... ah: and all of england, but none of London. so... no part of, velsh? woe and woo your parts of... timid, and static, and... immobile crippled to me. the crusades were not a reply... to the concept of jihad... jihad is not reconquista? but jihad is, reconquista, so what's the word for crusade, in arabic? crescent- maroondering (close, almost a google-whack, 2 search results) crescent-"maundering"? have to start calling the ottoman tactic, the turkic, the "anti"-arab mind-set, the expansion into the european balkans... milošević: milo-sh-eh-vee-"c"; there were also the northern cursades of the teutons against the prussians and the lithuanains... with polacks being the punching bags... i almost wish i would relate... but... i, "sort of", can't.
0
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 10:59 PM UTC
mindful
mindful... i still have a worth of half a steak's worth of frying to do... to the ultimatum: medium rare... roses are red: but only well cooked steaks are pink... "chewwy", side note: bite bite.        by now... the world is anything and everything but a beautiful place,    to write such words. for a song to make you cry, for a song to make you itchy... of this flesh...   but of the same sense of flesh, without a sense of belonging... and then coming across a borrowing of "reiteration"... that lost sense of appeasement... self-congratulation was never made into a charles dickens' novel... pride, pride: i too 'ide... and 'yde... fucking bollocks' worth of a hidden gem's worth of a "winner"... ah wee, ah chew, i chewie... -wwy... chav and the chavvy liquorice all-sorts of the new vatican: the victorian puritans... ah chewbacca... ah the disgruntled masses... ah this, ah the other... ah: and all of england, but none of London. so... no part of, velsh? woe and woo your parts of... timid, and static, and... immobile crippled to me. the crusades were not a reply... to the concept of jihad... jihad is not reconquista? but jihad is, reconquista, so what's the word for crusade, in arabic? crescent- maroondering (close, almost a google-whack, 2 search results) crescent-"maundering"? have to start calling the ottoman tactic, the turkic, the "anti"-arab mind-set, the expansion into the european balkans... milošević: milo-sh-eh-vee-"c"; there were also the northern cursades of the teutons against the prussians and the lithuanains... with polacks being the punching bags... i almost wish i would relate... but... i, "sort of", can't.
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