"cheapskate" poems
Gemini's delightful.
Cancer is polite.
Leo is romantic.
Virgo's quite bright.
Libra is creative.
Scorpio, tenacious.
Sagittarius, festive.
Capricorn, vivacious.
Aquarius is witty.
Pisces, prolific.
Aries is charming.
Taurus, terrific.
----------*---------
Taurus is quite stubborn.
Aries, a frightful *****
Pisces, a flaming cheapskate.
Aquarius is mostly crude.
Capricorn's nasty and spiteful.
Sagittarius, shallow and weak.
Scorpio's flagrantly flighty.
Libra, annoying and meek.
Virgo's simply pompous.
Leo, clearly deranged.
Cancer, always impossible.
Gemini, downright strange.
*
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
Ben Kowalewicz (spoken): Hi, my name is Ben Kowalewicz and this is Billy Talent.
Well I tripped, I fell down naked
I drank from a cup of lead
I hugged a skunk, it peed on me
Yesterday I joined Scientology
Steal a Camaro, then **** Jack Sparrow
Try stupid **** try stupid ****
Jump in a dump truck, smell **** and get stuck
I cannot read, I cannot read
**** on computers, then drink some pewter
Die sanity, die sanity
Marry a cheapskate, gain ninety pounds weight
I'm really dumb, I'm really dumb
I'm stupid, it's my fault, so daft
I like to play in the garbage shaft
The best sport is Parkour, **** straight
I arrive at work five hours late
Drink a deep fryer, eat some barbed wire
Try stupid **** try stupid ****
Sleep in a fireplace, burn your entire face
I cannot read, I cannot read
Cinnamon challenge, go on a chalk binge
Die sanity, Die sanity
Bike into traffic, pose pornographic
I'm a ******* I'm a *******
I ate some poo!
I'm stupid, it's my fault
Try
I'm stupid, it's my fault
Lie
This bad song don't make sense
Pie
Get a Prince Albert, snake blood for dessert now?
Drink some Everclear, cut off your own ear now?
Go back in time to, forties as a Jew
Try stupid **** try stupid ****
Do *** and rip off your right knee
I cannot read, I cannot read
Find the KKK, put on some blackface
Die sanity, die sanity
Locate a pervert, then take off your shirt
I am a twit, I am a twit
I am a twit, I am a twit
Try stupid **** try stupid ****
I am a twit, I am a twit
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 6:15 PM UTC
In my dream,
drilling into the marrow
of my entire bone,
my real dream,
I'm walking up and down Beacon Hill
searching for a street sign --
namely MERCY STREET.
Not there.
I try the Back Bay.
Not there.
Not there.
And yet I know the number.
45 Mercy Street.
I know the stained-glass window
of the foyer,
the three flights of the house
with its parquet floors.
I know the furniture and
mother, grandmother, great-grandmother,
the servants.
I know the cupboard of Spode
the boat of ice, solid silver,
where the butter sits in neat squares
like strange giant's teeth
on the big mahogany table.
I know it well.
Not there.
Where did you go?
45 Mercy Street,
with great-grandmother
kneeling in her whale-bone corset
and praying gently but fiercely
to the wash basin,
at five A.M.
at noon
dozing in her wiggy rocker,
grandfather taking a nap in the pantry,
grandmother pushing the bell for the downstairs maid,
and Nana rocking Mother with an oversized flower
on her forehead to cover the curl
of when she was good and when she was...
And where she was begat
and in a generation
the third she will beget,
me,
with the stranger's seed blooming
into the flower called Horrid.
I walk in a yellow dress
and a white pocketbook stuffed with cigarettes,
enough pills, my wallet, my keys,
and being twenty-eight, or is it forty-five?
I walk. I walk.
I hold matches at street signs
for it is dark,
as dark as the leathery dead
and I have lost my green Ford,
my house in the suburbs,
two little kids
****** up like pollen by the bee in me
and a husband
who has wiped off his eyes
in order not to see my inside out
and I am walking and looking
and this is no dream
just my oily life
where the people are alibis
and the street is unfindable for an
entire lifetime.
Pull the shades down --
I don't care!
Bolt the door, mercy,
erase the number,
rip down the street sign,
what can it matter,
what can it matter to this cheapskate
who wants to own the past
that went out on a dead ship
and left me only with paper?
Not there.
I open my pocketbook,
as women do,
and fish swim back and forth
between the dollars and the lipstick.
I pick them out,
one by one
and throw them at the street signs,
and shoot my pocketbook
into the Charles River.
Next I pull the dream off
and slam into the cement wall
of the clumsy calendar
I live in,
my life,
and its hauled up
notebooks.
3.6k
my cat bit my earphones
i am a person who commutes everyday with my earphones on. i listen to music and i dance to it. doing what seem to be small jerks to the public but a series of big and grand moves in my head. i was a dancer.
but my cat bit my earphones.
i hum the tunes ever so softly only to find out the stares from the people i ignored the whole ride, could hear me. i was a singer.
a silent performer.
for the audience of none.
and yes, my cat bit my earphones.
i am a person who can’t live without it. i listen to music and i zone in. i cancel all the thoughts in my head and just be. in the midst of beats, melodies, harmonies, and lyrics i was at peace. the maximum volume became my version of quiet.
and yet my cat bit my earphones.
the cheapskate in me stops me everyday from buying a new pair even if in exchange i’d have to embrace a new kind of quiet.
the quiet shared by the people i commute with:
the roaring engines, the horns of cars following no beat at all, the shouting of the barkers and conductors rapping with no flow. i hear everything. i was a listener.
a loud performance
for the audience of one.
all because my cat bit my earphones.
i blame my cat everyday for this punishment. i love my cat but sometimes i wish she could pay for it or even apologize for that matter. but i have no choice but to continue my everyday commute without my earphones.
**** my cat bit my earphones.
the thoughts i can’t mute when i commute now screams loudly begging me to listen. begging me to write them down. begging me to finally piece together all the words i know will make sense when given time. i am a writer.
i just can’t help myself but think that my cat bit my earphones.
now i am a person who commutes everyday without my earphones on. i listen to my head and i feel it. putting together ideas and emotions that may seem unpolished to me but could be something great to the public once heard. i am an artist.
a performer.
for the audience, i’m the one.
all because my cat bit my earphones.
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 5:02 AM UTC
Man enters the tavern
Claps down some cash and outbursts ;
'Thirsty Things Firstly !'
The barman evaluates his condition
And provides a session brew
Man tilts toward potential company
(a ferrety bloke in the shadows)
"Pull up that stack of milk crates
And halve a heart with me"
(he earns a quick friend
in a tolerant stranger)
Soon fellow gaspers fill out the gloom
And an eve of humour descends
Though soon upending
Gourds downed the gullet
Sunk ugly into the scene
The tippling wit drags the night
to the Slurry Pit
things turn Psychologically Rugged
his Mates soon round on him
bulldozing at the Elbows
saying he's a Cheapskate
they Berate him with rigorous Rattleprat
he's been goated with the Cain's mark
they tousle his crown malicious
Thorough in his cups and eaves
he mumbles and leaves
heaving up bile words
unheard
gurgle
over
his
shoulder
outside is dark and harsh
Outside the whole wild world does wail and weary
drunkenly
he sings to match its melancholy
but sadness lifts with his altered view
he sees 'a flock of moons' weigh down the sky
and natures churn
makes a phosphorescent stew of it all
... decay
to lifes' celebration
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 9:04 PM UTC
there's no delicate, politically correct way to say this.
as soon as i saw you leaning against the wall of the bp,
with your pants halfway down your ***
your wifebeater thrown over your shoulder,
your big brimmed hat on crooked,
and your white skin pockmarked with needle tracks,
i wasn't scared of you, i was disgusted.
my first thought? *burned out ******
my second? just please don't say anything to me.
my third? **** he's probably looking at my ****** white girl ***
my fourth? he just opened the door for me.
i think what i said was, "oh! thank you. excuse me."
and i think what you said was, "ain't no thang."
and i saw on your forearm not needle tracks,
but the very same scars that have lined my hips and thighs.
i looked at the sodas, and you pointed out the cheap ones.
"my girl drank three sodas an hour before she passed.
i guess you could call me a cheapskate, but it's worth it."
i was lost for words, so i just thanked you again.
you got in line, asked for the usual. you got your cigarettes.
i bought my soda, and turned around to you holding the door.
i said, "thank you again." and walked away.
i don't know you. i don't know your life.
i don't ever feel bad about making snap judgements.
but you radically changed my view of you in two short minutes.
if there was any way for you to know, i'd like to say i'm sorry.
and thank you...you've inspired me to change.
Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 6:02 PM UTC
What is the magic in the sum of 19?
It is not quite 20, in the mind a small enough amount.
It is more than 15, which would make you a cheapskate.
So many really good charities keep asking me for just 19.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
Here’s an ode to the place that I sleep every night --
My apartment, so small, it can barely fit light.
My bathroom is my kitchen, which is also my bedroom,
And I walk on my knees because there’s a shortage of headroom.
I don’t bring girls home because there’s no room for lovin’,
If we fall off my bed, we’ll end up in the oven.
There’s a cold draft all the time, at least that’s how it feels;
I sleep with my feet out a window, and birds crap on my heels!
I have One Single Light Bulb that dangles over the bed,
And works 10 percent of the time, but it’s usually just dead.
When I cook food I have to make sure that windows are open wide,
Cuz if not, the smoke gets so thick you can’t see inside!
And my smoke alarm is broken, which is actually a good thing,
Cuz if it weren’t, all day long I’d hear that piercing RIIINNGGG!!
My apartment is a disaster! I want back my money!
It’s really depressing even though it sounds funny…
I wanna find the landlord, that cheapskate disgrace,
And in lieu of next month’s rent, give him a slap him across the face.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
There really isn't anything new
On this year's Christmas Giver Menu.
First we have the 'Accidental Insulter '
Who needs to hire, a clever gift consultor.
While handing you a gymnasium voucher,
Turning your emotions from 'sweet' to 'sour'!
Insults dressed up as compliments are nothing new,
But still, Cuz, it's a bit hard to chew!
Next in line is the 'Relentless Re-gifter'
With telltale signs on my "new" game of Twister,
Footprint stains and greasy hand marks,
My goodness, my fury is starting to spark!
"Do you love it? " She asks. "I knew you would! "
She was feeling heroic like Robin Hood,
Passing me that tired looking parcel,
I wanted to fling that **** gift right back to the castle!
I thought to myself, "Hey there Squire!
Your ****** gifts just aren't my desire!! "
Will I fret about this gift? Not one bit,
I'll just re-wrap it, re-gift it and,
Give it back to them next year!
The message, I bet, will be loud and clear.
"The Cheapskate"! Oh, what can I say here?
It's the same lame excuse year after year!
Buying gifts, eluded his 'plan',
He was far too busy, getting his tan.
Gifts to him just didn't matter,
As long as there was a lobster on a platter!
"The Handmade Lover" has a
Life affirming talent making,
But that 'Floral cushion cover collection,
I fear, by now, is OVERTAKING!!!
The "Gift Certificate Easy Roller",
Forgot you were plus five and a stroller,
Smiles smugly, as they hand it over,
I'd need more luck, than a four leaf clover,
Taking them all in to get my nails done,
Doesn't feel like a barrel of fun.
So, in future to avoid this mad, crazy dash,
I'd love to receive some COLD HARD CASH!!
Now, nothing makes me feel more nauseated,
Than "High Perceived Value packaging". "It's totally overrated! "
But I take courage in the "One Who Knows Me Best"
Their presents always outshine the rest!
"Merry Christmas to one and all! "
I hope that Santa heard your call,
"H-E-L-P!!! "
1 Nov 2018
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC
When I was younger in a different time
I had a habit on a special date,
Or on an occasion, to write a rhyme,
Often enough, because I'm a cheapskate.
So as Christmas swiftly soon descends,
And I've but my heart to claim as loot,
I write this story for a special friend
About a Giant and his Little Boots.
You see, these two made quite an awesome pair -
A lanky lad with lanky giant feet,
He'd often smile as people'd often stare
As he'd walk with Little Boots about the street.
A friendship in college they did form.
The Giant couldn't have asked for more.
His Little Boots could help weather a storm
Or bust a move on the Workman's floor.
Those Little Boots helped through thick and thin.
When he was in his darkest places,
They'd help him smile and let light back in
Or send him gifs or silly faces.
He knew they could take different paths -
Boots, like friends, can tread through the rough,
But nothing could silence the joy or laughs -
The friendship was made of stronger stuff.
And so they lived, as friends, forever,
The Giant and his Little Boots,
Strolling down life's roads together
Making it big time, in cahoots.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
A raucous tone of an oldie worm gear
Sound's like a screech that torn ears
Toothed wheel and it revolving spiral, bear
The oodles of blood as the oil of fear.
The products are orderly transmitted diseases
Wrench is limited avast for every pigment of it
And to rely on its asylum, to ceases
are not enough, to cover the dirt or to omit.
Let's stave the stave of reddish fuels!
If life is a wheel and we are its axles,
Our will be done, drawn of our risksha
And let this machine covert chutzpah.
Working of two wheel with sloping square edge,
Is the next wheel with trickery on the ledge.
Our wheel has a will of its spare-part, none Midas touch
But still, this wheel will chase the chaste egg to hutch.
Be the egg of tomorrow, who's snob the chatterbox.
Uproots our machine's cheapskate who's blood are their tax.
Their waste turns to wax from the slave of fox.
It can take away everything outside of our flocks
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC
Life is a smorgasbord.
A cheese plate.
A puzzle.
A cheapskate.
A muzzle.
That confuzzles
And confounds you
Bounds you
Astounds you
That the bind is to
Liberty
In the hopes you'll see
You're nothing but free
In this mess of a sea.
Spirit hears your plea
So don't be afraid
To just
Be.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
It was Halloween and I kissed him
On the sidewalk outside that cheapskate bar.
It was Halloween and I was seventeen.
And the scariest thing about all of this
Is who I am becoming.
I hit the ground rather running
I've always been smart and cunning
But I am getting a bit out of control.
I hate myself
But I hate him more
And I hate God most
For letting me turn out this way
When I told him to make it all okay
I told him so many times
Six empty shot glasses
and bitten limes
Before I said amen.
And morning felt like coffee grinds
And night lingered like orange rinds
Beneath your fingernails
I locked myself within this jail
I told you not to let me fail
I told you not to let me fall
I told you how I'd get lost in it all.
And I was right.
And where were you?
Where were you to win my fight?
When you left you took my light
Where were you when I ****** up last night?
It was Halloween and he tasted like nothing
But who am I to judge.
It was Halloween and the scariest thing about all of this
Is I loved Halloween
With a love so pure
And I don't know if I can do that anymore.
Maybe if you let me.
(I'm telling you to let me)
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Call me a monster
And I’ll be wicked
Call me a fool
And I’ll be stupid
Call me a freak
And I’ll live in the shadows
Call me a streaker
And I’ll lose all my clothes
Call me a beggar
And I’ll be down on my knees
Call me bedridden
And I’ll be diseased
Call me abusive
And I’ll punch black and blue
Call me a *****
And I’ll be ready to *****
Call me a tyrant
And I’ll take over mankind
Call me a thief
And I’ll rob you blind
Call me psychotic
And I’ll be deranged
Call me a danger
And I’ll be restrained
Call me replaceable
And I’ll get lost
Call me a cheapskate
And I won’t pay the cost
Call me a housewife
And I’ll cook dinner
Call me suicidal
And I’ll pull the trigger
Call me a cutter
And I’ll slit my wrist
Call me a no one
And I’ll cease to exist
Call me a black girl
And I’ll fit that design
But call me a ******
No.
You just crossed the line.
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC
heres is the story of
Bad boy Bill...
..with slight of hand
he had the plate
with eight pieces
of skate
which he quickly ate
not that he was
a deadweight
he did share
with a mate
before he did
donate the *****
plate to the nearest
gutter grate
he was a pick pocket
that he could not debate
he had given going straight
a trial but could not cognate
the traits of the cheapskate
state that gave him too many
gates to open only to end up
at the same old checkmate
so after beating his breastplate
he went on the lam
lashed out against
the ingrate magnates
and after a spate
of flyweight burglaries
he now awaits
as a sometimes
somnambulate inmate
at the pleasure
of the abrogate state
in a room slightly
larger that a crate
with a surly
burly bedmate.
they who dictate
think he will be
down for at least eight
he was at this news
discombobulatedly
disconsulate
But that is the fate
of those who hesitate
to choose bad over good
and manipulate the laws
of the land.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 10:36 PM UTC
LOVE
Deposit 1$
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OUT OF ORDER
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHEAPSKATE
( You Get What You Pay For ! )
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 7:49 AM UTC
by Arcassin Burnham
My head hurts,
The beds shaking,
I'm breathing heavy,
Hot in this room,
the birds are singing,
I'm keeping it steady,
looking at attention to detail..
the peace is gone,
everyone's yelling,
fights breaking out,
still hot as hell,
nothing to do,
but get away from this,
as long as there is nothing to retell..
and I can't stress this enough,
why is my life just so tough,
all I want is beauty in a plastic red cup,
I might as well just give everything up,
if you could take away the stress,
that'll be great,
but if you make it worse through life as a cheapskate,
Don't talk to me,
Don't talk to me,
My head hurts,
The beds shaking,
I'm breathing heavy,
Hot in this room,
the birds are singing,
I'm keeping it steady,
looking at attention to detail..
the peace is gone,
everyone's yelling,
fights breaking out,
still hot as hell,
nothing to do,
but get away from this,
as long as there is nothing to retell.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 12:07 AM UTC
So much hate on the plate
I would rather die myself
Than **** a comrade and label myself great
What's the point to investigate
When rapers don't get eliminate
Annihilate the citizens
While opening up the gates
To migrate in the state
Can't provide slate to educate
Fraud scams of digit eight
They have media on cheapskate
All they do is ******* scream nonsense on debates
Built a wall for President
Ashamed of the city that is contaminated
Isolate the bait
Death threat to judges and advocates
How can you expect justice from such dominants
Multiple locations were/are on communication break
Retaliate before it's too late
They don't even hesitate
To fabricate the history
Don't underestimate them
They have holy medicines based on **** cakes
Economy rate is falling down straight
Don't get frustrated of unemployment
Why are you upset??
"Mitroon" chill and meditate...
Mar 27, 2020
Mar 27, 2020 at 10:51 AM UTC
This plan right here is foolproof.
Ima kick back under a cool roof,
With my eyes closed and my
Blunt packed.
So there's no room
For my family to talk smack.
And I'm a real friend,
But I'm lonely.
I gotta let this warm food
Hold me.
Because who else will?
That's a good question.
All my trauma has taught me
Lessons.
And the best one
That I've learned yet,
Is there's no freedom
If you ain't hurt yet.
And maybe I'm a little
Biased.
But you'd be too,
If right behind your eyelids,
Were eyes that
Seen such violence--
That you begged to become quite
Blinded.
Because this shit's real,
But your dreams ain't.
Eat your meals three times
On a green plate.
It reminds you
To be a cheapskate.
You need full pockets
To dine on lean steak.
I done told them,
And I done warned you,
That all of America is scorned too.
The politicians and the
Potheads.
Your family tree looks more
Like a cobweb.
Your addiction is the way
You numb pain.
Your *** your drugs, your
Slot games.
You hate it, but you hate this
Life more.
You pray? Do you pray to the
Right Lord?
Do you force yourself,
Just like me?
Don't feel bad. Inside we're
All just dying.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC