"darl" poems
My big headed people said ity, i trusted, 'hiriz' has never dissapointed themy,
my hatred for non conformity, enormous, i surely hated the conformity truly,
i almost lost it for 'hiriz' sakey, **** it, ill never have wanted to lose this beauty,
i had it weirdly thinking ablazey, loozing?, no, i hadnt and you n they didnt realize fastly,
loosing soo fast about lowly sinking sinly,curse all day i ,ever had thee meeting to lyfy,
wit all the a vitue TRUELY INVESTMENT *** no lievly, forget me darl; once and for ever dony
one more what you waznyt quetly, cool openly, man must lively sweetly
that a day woud spoily truely, madly mey, sooooooo losty i had made a choisy,
refusing my being theiyyyyy, lucky me doing, buty, i love thater that am no longy
your timey was wanting by virtuey, truey. luck **** spyty this shiety oul
endy began truely sure truelly, fukciey, its thats badyy, me lost it shortlley
man must livevy or diiey, truely, gotta ity, man look for bread i wannaity
withought even hiriz it all worked welly, herey, i am. fu**** like ity
dead
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 12:28 PM UTC
You are all the same
You all **** off and **********
you cry and laugh
and with pain you “smile”
You are all tired of your own sad life
Working in a mediocre job
that barely pays off
Married or not, complaining for both
“You changed!”, you yell
to your average looking wife
“Why am I alone?”, you ask
to your fat and fuzzy cat
You complain because
of what you have
You complain because
of what you lack
You complain, and cry, and claim
that happiness you deserve
Life doesn’t own you nothing, you darl
Better learn it now or suffer some more.
Money, price, fortune
that’s all you need
Cash makes you rich
Happiness will only bring a smile
To your ugly looking face
“It’s ugly enough, the tv told me that
I’m nothing compared to Brad Pitt
Nor Johnny Deep.”
“I need no smile to ugly it
a little more
I can have cash
and my own Ferrari buy”
-A world full of meaningless words
and wasted hours,-
You all live in a constant rush
to eat, to **** to live
Running up and down
rushing to send the papers
and talk to your hated boss
But at least money is getting it.
Or in the other part
we can watch the opposite band
The full of stress grown-ups
And the careless young mans.
You are locked on a king bed
“Exercise? why move?
I have a tv controller hiding
under my sheets, also have you seen my chips?”
Reading is a lost art
no need of books
when computer are at
with shinny screens and password locks
“Why read words?
when you can research
the intricate plot
in an instant or two”
Are you happy?
Can I even ask
Or have you lost the meaning
while you loosed the habit of reading?
Is that the only thing you lost?
where did you virginity go?
Oh “drunk as ****
So you decided to ****
Sounds pretty smart,
Where are the neurons at?
Ahh I understand, getting high everyday.
Yolo, right?
I’m only describing reality
why getting offended?
Did I hurt your feelings?
Did you feel connected?
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
Letters from Mom - Letter 2 of 4: Our new place
**Dear my Dearest *****
That was good of you to phone
Great to hear your voice dear
but surely
think about it a little
you need to shout a little more
being so far across the mountains
on the other side
in the other state
Even when we got telephone
you got to shout a little more –
cos even with the telephone,
it’s a fair distance, remember
so all we can hear of you is a faint crackle
This new place is not too bad
dear O dearest *****
It’s got one of these wonders, the washing machine
but I’m not sure if it works really
cos I put my first load of clothes in for the wash
and I pulled at the handle
and there was a rush of water
and, dear or dear me ,
I saw everything swirling
but I haven’t seen the clothes since
Dad says that thing there
is for men to sit on and read the newspaper
But tell me – why would they have water in there
if it were not a regular one-of-them washing machine?
Tell you about the weather here in our new place
dear O dearest *****
Not too bad – it only rains say twice a week
which is not too bad
See it rained Monday and continued till Thursday morning
and then continued from Thursday morning to Sunday night -
which is not too bad, just twice a week,
my dear O dearest *****
Now Dad wants to sit on that washing machine
and read the newspaper
he says, like he claims eminent men do
But no way, I’m not allowing him to sit on our washing machine –
have you ever heard of such a thing?
I’m going to kick him, if I need to
I think I’ll put in another load of washing
and see if the machine spits out the first one I put in
Write to me, or call us again, Darl *****
Your loving Mom
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
WARNING: Horror...you might find this series offensive or distressing if you are not used to horror.
3)
I know
once I was just like you
I was young and furious too
the world was too much
everyone made you feel
so hopeless, you think you could ****
I know exactly
how you feel
*Dear, oh dear
don't cry
Darling, oh darl
don't bleed*
There was a time when I married
(everyone finds it's a mistake;
they either **** their partner
or, to continue living,
they **** their own spirit)
but I was determined to grow
my body and spirit -
can we not get conventional? -
so I had minced pie for a time
and no one could bring
my wife back home
you see
wifey got
too comfy
and see she had this thing
(after respectability)
about responsibility
the role of husband and father and
parent and homeowner, mow the lawn
service the loan
and all that crap –
I quite believe she was going mad;
maybe she walked away into the woods
Was that responsible of her?
*Dear, oh dear
don't cry
Darling, oh darl
don't bleed*
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
so Old Farmer Joe is missing for breakfast
and his wife Mary goes out
to look for her hubby of fifty years
and finds him standing there
in the middle of the field
What are you doing here, darl
asks Mary
standing here in the field?
And dreamy Old Joe says:
*I hear they award
a Nobel Prize to those
out standing in their field
I’m going to win, sweetie*
Come, let’s go home, darl
says Old Mary
and she guides him,
as he leans on her shoulder,
and he grumbles:
I knew you’d spoil everything
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 5:58 AM UTC
Letters from Mom - Letter 4 of 4: Life, Death, and Life
**Dear my Dearest *****
Life and Death, dearest *****
that’s what news I’ve got for you here
in this post; sad and happy, dearie
ain’t that what’s it all about
Cos God gets drunk every other night
(just like your Dad)
life’s a mixed bag
Three of your school friends
last week
were in a pick-up truck
It was Dom who was driving
and the truck fell off the bridge
and into the water
Dom rolled down his window and got off
but the other two in the back
John and Mary, though good swimmers
they drowned, dearie
cos they couldn’t get the tail-gate opened
And your sister is now pregnant
and she’s all excited
but we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl
so we’ll decide later
if you are aunt or uncle
And your sis says if it’s a girl
she’ll name it after me –
so, she’ll be called Mom;
and if it’s a boy
she’ll name it after Dad –
so, of course, he’ll be called Dad
And that was good to hear from you
on the phone
you’re coming back home
You can run away from school
run away from your town
run away from mummy -
but you always got to
come back to mummy
dear O dearie my *****
*See you soon, Darl *****
Your loving Mom
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
1
And it’s fifty years
since Farmer Joe and Mary married
but Joe forgets;
Joe is always in La La land
*Darl, do you know what day it'll be
come Saturday?*
says Mary, who’s still got all her teeth
No, says Joe
who's still got strong hands and feet
*No, no, no…I don’t know – wait,
what was your question?*
2
It’s our fiftieth, darl
says Mary
*Let’s have a feast, invite the kids
and the neighbors
– and let’s **** a pig*
O, says Farmer Joe
*I don’t know why
the pig’s got to take the blame
for something we did fifty years ago*
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 7:29 AM UTC
“ I know little of physics...much about mothering...” - Victoria, HP
(this series dedicated to Victoria)
Letters from Mom Letter 1 of 4: News from home
**Dear my Dearest *****
this letter I wrote real slow
letter by letter
in our whole dear English alphabet
to form each word
Slow, slow, slow
like our dripping tap
I wrote slow
cos I know you never
could read fast
Remember Mrs Campbell at school?
She always said you were a slow reader
We’ve moved since you left
cos your clever Dad who reads the papers daily
(he is a fast reader -
I’m mighty proud of him -
he finishes the papers in 3 minutes)
said he read most accidents happen
within thirty miles distance of the home
and so we’ve moved
Now dear, we are safe and accidents can’t happen
since we’re 40 miles away
We're desperately safe
I know you’d want our new address, dear
but really I can’t cos
the family we bought this house from
what they did was to take the number away
cos they said they don’t want to change address
Fair enough, we said
So Dad went back to our old house to get our number
but those new idiots at our old place
they called your Dad crazy and silly –
those rude people!
Those upstarts! These foreigners!
They are ignorant of our ways!
I wonder if they know your Dad is erudite
after all, he reads the Daily everyday
Write to me, or call us, Darl *****
Your loving Mom
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
(Punch comes home. Judy, his wife, kisses him and asks about his day.)
Judy:
How was your day at work , darl?
Punch:
Not a good day, sweetie…
Judy:
And why was that, Punch?
Punch:
Oh, the Boss is just overbearing
Judy:
What did he do this time, sweetie?
Punch:
Oh well, he comes in to my table
this morning, right,
and he asks me: “Punch, do you believe
in the after-life?”
An odd question to ask, you’d agree…
Anyway I say: “I do, Mr Blake –
I do believe in the after-life.”
And he says: “Oh, I’m glad you do…”
And he continues:
“Yesterday you asked to go home at noon
You said your grandpa died
And guess what? – 4 hours after you left
a man claiming to be your grandpa
came here looking for you
Said he was in in the vicinity
and he might walk home back with you
There’s sure such a thing as after-life, Punch!”
And all day Mr Blake was having a go at me about ghosts
And all my colleagues too, they were going: “BOO!”
at every chance they got…
Oh, what an embarrassing day…
Judy:
Oh, so you lied to get a half-day off, Punch?
And where were you?
You didn’t come home early yesterday…
Doesn’t look like your day is over, Punch…
Certainly not a good day!
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
sometimes i find myself confused
knowing that however much we speak
(however much i say i love you)
i will never know you as well as i do
raskolnikov, darl, hamlet, thoreau.
because i cannot read your thoughts
but i can read theirs.
oh, i can read theirs.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
Letters from Mom - Letter 3 of 4: More news from home
**Dear my Dearest *****
Oh, what a boring new week here;
nothing happens…
We went to the post office to send
you the heavy coat you asked for
with the metal buttons
And the new clerk at the post office said
the coat’s too heavy with them metal buttons
so he cut off all the buttons
and then the weight was right
and so he put the metal buttons in the pockets
You’ll find them right there in the coat –
ain’t he mighty helpful…
And the cemetery people sent Dad another notice
said If he don’t pay another 100 dollars
for the grave where they put Grandma down in
then, they said: “Up she comes!”
and dear, dear old Uncle Woods
he fell drunk into the local whiskey vat and died
and he was cremated, as he’d always wanted
and no one here needed lights three nights
for Uncle Woods, he burned so bright all three
days and nights…
Oh and one last thing
Little Tim and I were trapped
in the car two hours
cos Dad locked the keys in the car;
and it took him so long to get me
and Little Tim out…
Sometimes I think
Dad’s really going senile before his time
Write to me, or call us again, Darl *****
Your loving Mom
P.S. *We wanted to send you some money in
But this envelope here is already sealed*
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
Darl Dudley was a pud with a swelling in his nipper.
Shaving, he forgot to zip his zipper.
The morning was great, he was cheerful and able.
He decided to set the breakfast table.
Seeing the adelaide boots he became unstable.
Yanking at his crotch, before he was aware,
Yiks, he had caught a lot of hair.
Then he broke the zipper off and ashamed, began to swear.
His love entered the breakfast room
saw his bent over form and thought it was a dare.
Darl stood up and held his crotch, his pants slipped down
a notch; red faced he howled a prayer.
"My darlin," she exclaimed. "You seem to be in pain.
Let me help you get your trousers off."
Darl let out a heart felt sigh. Just wanted to cry.
His dinger, hot and swollen with a badly bruised side.
She bent down for a moment to see about his fly and
and ended up with a sharp poke in her eye.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 4:44 PM UTC
We think we're hard done by
Coasting in our sleeping bag boats,
Binliners of lumps
waiting for our names
and for our coats.
Oh Lithium Lovers
Are we ****** - ?
Are our bloodlines blue,
black and blue and botched,
blotchy on the page,
cowed and crowing in the cage?
We were birds, stunned birds,
Singing to the guns,
With picks behind our eyes
And walls to catch the turds.
We were history
We were gassed
We were mush inside the glass,
We were carnival sweethearts,
We were the horrors of the crowd
****** if we were quiet,
Or a bit quiet,
Or loud.
Yellow pages,
A pipe, not a pipe,
Notes -
What's your name, darl?
And where's your coat?
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 6:50 PM UTC
Darling, darling
May I hold you in my arms?
And rock you until
You've cried out every injustice
Every done to you?
Darling, darling
Might I endear myself to you?
Until your very instinct is to look to me
For the strength you need
To win every battle?
Darling, darling
Shall I be your diamond sheild?
Impervious to damage
In my complete conviction
To protect you from harm?
But you don't see me, do you?
I am not an option for you.
I won't call you darling any longer.
I am not to be forgotten.
You may never turn around to see me
And I, darl-, I may never care again.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
My love is in the garden
she sings not to me
but praises the flowers
in sweet melody.
My love is in the kitchen
(when is she never busy?)
humming Home Sweet Home
' Darl, this is mum's recipe'.
My love is in the drawing-room
at her favourite embroidery
' Your socks have holes
I've mended-they are ready'.
My love and I are in bed
she asks: 'Do you still love me?'
I look into her warm tender eyes:
' You're immortalised in my poetry!'
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 8:37 PM UTC
Coal black nights, filled with sceneries of haunting beauty,
Every tree, every mound, every cloud looking dark and sooty.
Something in this shaded sketch feels so wild but familiar,
Making the moment move towards your heart, nearer and nearer.
The burning embers of your conscience, hypnotized by the scenic grandiose .
Perfectly finding sense in the molten pitch black chaos.
Mother nature always keeps up with her strange methods and ways to amuse,
Making you feel amused, minuscule and confused.
Enter the silvery king of the darkness through molten black clouds gracefully,
Gleaming with his childish, delightful and hazy light, mischievously.
The sprinkled sparkles fluttering, glittering across the expanse,
Making you cherish and treasure every moment that's about to pass.
There is magical madness in very twinkle, every glow and every ray of moon-shine,
Sending you a message, crystal clear and divine, that everything is going to be fine.
Making you forget, every complaint, problem, and dismissal,
And showing you the beautiful, mysterious and playful,
Dark Carnival
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
We could leave still,Diop
We could leap off this rock
away from this dying world
there is so much disregard
every second frightens me
your face keeps me afloat
lets leave and live free
however you darl chose
loving you is all i need
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
I undress and see nothing of me
in the clothes neatly laid out
next to each other to put back on
underwear is underwear, trousers trousers
if there is anything special about it
it is just that
there are no marks on it, I don't advertise
I unstitch myself free
pick the lint from my clothes
out of my navel, the belly is cool, I feel
myself, breast is breast, cheek cheek
but my belly, that's me
my hands know it
better than my eyes
that do recognise my face
as mine, everywhere
where I am, nowhere for sale
but it is veiled now
I am tired, I want rest
having nothing to do with anyone
and still
love myself
Aug 1, 2025
Aug 1, 2025 at 2:39 AM UTC
Hi, are you available?
You've got a message from the devil
It wants you to jump down one level
Where lays the sharp coarse gravel
Few yards away down in that pit
Just behind where you sit
You've given it a lead to your life
Now it wants you to sharp that knife
The one you used to torture that girl
She was such a darl, a shining pearl
Your craving darkness sent her to hell
Not the hell where sinners go
But the hell where she never dreamt to go
Under the influence of lust and alcohol
You enjoyed her body despite her young soul
Once done, you ripped her off life
You killed her using this very knife
Now its payback time, you summoned the devil
While being surrounded by such great evil
Your deeds are justified by the God
He has sent your case to the hell Lord
The one you called upon is me ofcourse
Am the dark angel, the righteous evil from hell
The way down is right through that pit like well
Now you do as I say, lets make this quick, what say?
No more of your lusting, banging, burning desire
Lets go meet, the hell Lord...My Sire!!
©sim
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 3:39 AM UTC
Is it not truly dissapointing to watch
someone fail to live up to what you know
they are capable of?
Someone with such potential but they don't use it.
There was a pupil, and this pupil wanted to do something
everyone told him he'd fail at.
But he did it anyway, and for a brief while he felt as if he was home.
As if he had finally found life and his part in it.
He was told that he had talent, that he stood out from the rest.
Someone he greatly admired said this to him infront of his fellow pupils. He was happy.
His purpose felt firmly established.
Months later the pupil fell into a darl place, slowly losing his love
for what he thought he loved.
Lost in a world he thought he figured out, walking through a dark tunnel, looking for a place to sit rather than an exit.
He looked back on what was told to him, that he had talent.
That he was special... he realised something.
Just because someone doesn't fit in, does not mean they
special.
The pupil sat writing about his feelings, and a lite spark came back,
a spark no larger than the first morning light.
Realising what he loved will be there for him,
however he can't be there for it as not to ruin it.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC