"deadbeat" poems
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
everyone keeps saying "we made it"
and it's actually a little confusing
because it's almost like they thought we couldn't
five teenagers on lockdown have never caused so much panic but I guess we're just
the deadbeat generation
(knock once for failure, twice for rebirth, three times to see your life in twenty years-
who knows, maybe you'll have a life in twenty years)
we pick locks on bad days turn back the clocks on good days
if we try hard enough maybe we'll go back to the glory days I wanna blast music from the busted up speakers
in the back of my car I wanna live like I used to
we're anthems and parades and kids crying out in the middle of the night when the hole in their stomach opens up
or closes
we're caught up in a whirlwind of scientific facts and figures and sometimes I want to scream at the top of my lungs
as if that'll help me escape the noise in my head
punk isn't about living through the fall of something it's about living through the rise of me
I am real I am here I will scream it from the ******* rooftops if I have to
I will tap my fingertips on tables even when I'm told not to
I will tattoo myself a thousand times over, an endless mantra of existence
i exist i exist i exist
this isn't a happy ending, or at least it isn't the one I was promised
but it's something
it's okay
and that's good enough because okay is ******* wonderful
lace my fingers with yours call me a queen tell me you'll never let me go because I will never let you go
we are the kids who will never stop living
even when they tell us that we are impossible we are heartbeats pounding on cracked pavement,
leather and cheap beer, lather me in love lay me down to sleep
with the promise of tomorrow
promise me that tomorrow will still be there when I wake up
you can have a house but not a home
I was a house but not a home until I met you
deadbeat degenerates make a better family than most.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
To the deadbeat I hate to call my father,
I can’t say I hate you, for I would be hating myself.
You walked out of my life when I was four,
Yet came back a decade later asking me to ignore what you put me through,
Asking me to put the past on the highest shelf
Of my metaphorical closet.
I did as you asked, thinking this time around things would be different.
For a year I was overjoyed, you put me before yourself
But as the saying goes, what goes up must come down,
And your façade began to crumble.
Slowly but surely my calls went to voicemail,
My texts were never received,
Our plans rain checked for another day that never came.
I told you it was okay.
I was afraid telling you my feelings would make you runaway.
My anger was taken out on the woman that you hurt
My anger was taken out on the woman you cheated on and abused.
All the horrible things I wanted to say to you, I said to her instead.
My mother, the only parent I truly have, began to call you too.
Everyday, her and I would fight, trying to figure out what to do.
Well I’ve decided I’ve had enough.
You are not a man.
You are unfit to be a father.
You choose your own happiness over mine.
You say I asked for a lot-
When all I wanted was to catch up.
Ten years is a large gap.
I know I’ll see you at family gatherings,
I know I’ll have to deal with you eventually.
But I refuse to be fooled by you again.
You are a coward.
You have three daughters that need their father.
Two of them refer to their step-dad as their only dad.
I unfortunately do not have that luxury for my step father is a lot like you.
They say ignorance is bliss, but that is not the case.
You’ve hurt me too many times and there is no one to blame but myself.
I let you back in.
I listened to your lies.
From now on, I will not hide this problem on that metaphorical shelf.
You are the issue.
I am done with you.
I cannot hate you, as I said before.
Half of me is you.
But half of me is my mother.
The half that is kind and strong and knows when to move on.
I know you’ll want to be a part of my life again, but you’ll be too late.
I thought I needed my father, but I have enough people in my life to fill that role.
You are irrelevant to me.
I do not need you now.
I will not need you later.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
i see the flyer at starbucks
"are you caucasian?
without mental health
and drug problems?"
wow
i don’t know the answer to any of these questions
is a jew a caucasian?
is the occasional naked, dick-slamming drunken rampage
a drug problem?
as for mental health
i’m a deadbeat poet and unpopular pop musician
i’ve got a job fighting death and boredom
and i just changed my facebook password to "eat ****
my frustrations have driven weaker souls to homicide
but are these PROBLEMS?
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 5:16 AM UTC
deadbeat
by Natalie Elizabeth (Notes) on Thursday, April 7, 2011 at 10:42am
the knowledge i hold
neatly stacked inside my head
makes me want to *****
and laugh my *** off
disgusted
smells nasty like moonshine
fermented
rotten
taste bites the back of my throat
pulling up unwillingly, bile
clear bitter bile
turn my head and casually spit
**** kid you make me sick
but all i can do is laugh
pitiful
it came down to this
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
Deadbeat street heat
Dust on the window
Like the dead of night
Screaming like a crow
I didn't mean to fall down
But that's what happens when you move
And as long as you're around
Can you help me keep the groove?
In the storm, keep me warm
Under blankets or your arms
Tune the magic of your mind
And let me breathe in your charm
When the loneliness is killing me
And I know it's killing you
Would you mind if I rang you up,
To help me see it through?
Today is lazy, tomorrow's crazy
I won't worry until then
Because right now is where I'm in
And this dream will never end
Have you thought much about me
Since the sun rose in the West?
Because I haven't been able to keep you out
Though I haven't tried, I guess
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 12:36 AM UTC
Grab your pitchforks run him outta town,
only because his skin is brown.
If he knocks on the door don't let him in,
only because he lacks white skin.
Punch his face with a bang and a whack
only because his skin is black.
Pull out your gun shoot him in the head,
only because he grows his dreads.
Lock him in jail for nothing bad,
call him a loser and a deadbeat dad.
If you don't think you've gone too far,
you're wrong, your soul's as black as coal tar.
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
I have a heart made of daggers
That could slice your deadbeat life in two
But why should I waste my pity
Spending it all on you?
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
Muted, muffled, dull thud on concrete,
Staggered, drunken, half conscious nobody,
Starved, seeking, worried about payments,
**** in hand, knocking on the wrong doors,
Fire and brimstone stoked in the belly,
Mad, strange, appetizing burlesque eyes,
Obnoxious smacking and licking of parched lips,
Rolling on half rationed legs,
Quiet, sullen, mournful footsteps,
Presently placed awkwardly one in front of the other,
Memory serves correctly, destitute, reprise,
Thunderclaps and crashing roars,
Almost forgotten, with great relief,
Soon, very soon, to be lost forever,
Candlelight, sobbing vigils, no power,
Nail, Nail, Nail,
Praise in the box, graffiti walled,
Like a bathroom stall, just as ******
Docile dissolving vessels,
Brought to the commonplace dropoff,
Settled down and greatly relieved.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:38 PM UTC
Lone star walking roads,
crowbar in hand
cowgirl I'll die for,
I died and I died again,
fluent in 6 country's,
passports; pardons
no cargo,
but luggage is a stainless steel flask,
half full,
half way,
to the moon
if you asked me?
Cadillacs in space,
expensive taste
that's masked with
— the cheap stuff,
inspired souls,
they walk,
and this forsaken path,
they'll never make hell a ***** deed or two from heaven,
counterparts
we're equals,
we're lost
they're my colleagues,
a scandal from remembrance,
remember we followed rules?
no response
****
there's a shift
in the rubix cube,
a memo from the warden,
no weapons in the visit room,
coordinating sin,
a taste of gin
before the see you soons,
world was much warm before stone replaced the sand dunes,
scoff at the elixir,
cordially
she casts stones,
******* of a demon crossing ponds is all the child knows,
tales of the fishermen,
who heard it through the corridors,
all and all departed,
with a fear of the other gods,
strictly prohibited,
a swig of the forbidden fruit,
who are you to judge me,
When Your Son Is Not Of Holy Proof!
wedded to a mortal said your honor,
absent i do's,
abstinence is bliss
and your crime ascends civilian law,
guilty -- you're filthy,
your son will never know your soul,
I know my role and play it well,
Your god never admits he's wrong,
so why would I?
— a baby cried,
I'm present for my son's birth,
and leave before an open eye the practice of a perfect curse.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 8:13 AM UTC
I am like a firefly in a jar
Never feel that I am getting far
My light burning out, flickering
My screams turn to shouts, slowly, bickering.
I am like a firefly with heavy wings
Around my eyes lay dark rings
I can't lift off, my light is fading
My skin will forever be your shading.
I am stuck in a jar, gravity killing any chances of flight
And lately I have noticed that I never get things right
I am destructive to myself and to you
A deadbeat firefly with nothing to do.
I set up this jar with my own mind
You look for me but will never find
I'm sorry I don't fly for you
I want you to know that this love is true
But you deserve better than a firefly stuck in a jar.
I thought you had mended my wings
But now I see the broken things
No one can change
I don't want to lose you
and everything you do
but you deserve better than this firefly stuck in a jar.
It's not that you aren't good enough
It's that my cracked skin is too tough
Like a second firefly stuck in the same jar
I hold you back when you can go far.
I want you to know that you are the best thing that has happened
But my light will always be blackened
Nothing unjust has given me this
My thoughts lead me spiralling into an abyss
It's not fair that you have to look after this firefly stuck in a jar
After all, I am not going far
You don't have to be stuck with this firefly in a jar.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC
Absent father, suffer mother
missing hand that held the other
breath of life, given to smother
the future of sister and brother
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
Delicately pink hearts gently unfurl
From nests of lively minds;
There is nothing weak about Southern women
We are supposed to wear ugly dresses,
Enamel bugs,
French scarves that wrap around and
Tie us all together from the inside out
Football and sassy new haircuts might not make faces look younger,
But they can lift spirits
And just because you spend all day advising others
Of their secret trials
Doesn't mean that you can hold your family in a cage,
Golden and happy though you may want things to be.
Remember that if you feel new, an outsider,
Your personal tragedies seeming too much to bear,
You will always find comfort in laughter
Especially if laughter through tears is your favorite emotion.
You might not pick up boys or money,
But friendship steeps in small salons
Like sweet tea.
Prickly sarcasm and pessimism aren't always the hallmarks
Of a heart devoid of caring,
It's just a natural response after two deadbeat husbands and
Three ungrateful children; somewhere in all of it is a promise
Of hope.
And even in a barren womb new life is discovered,
And even in death joy is found,
And even through pain,
Sisterhood blooms,
Delicate steel petals enveloping grieving hearts.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
Deadbeat dad,
you can't compete with the patter of tiny feet.
Forever...
Shall I strive to be Mum & Dad in spite of thee.
You had your chance and made your choice
(..."and missed so much" in the saddest voice).
So distant, both in words and deeds,
both empty since you sowed the seed.
He was made with love, only mine.
So listen now...
We'll be just fine!
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 3:55 PM UTC
"Worthless waste of space!"
"You thief of my fresh air!"
Useless to the entire world.
Drop dead! No one will care!
Can you feel the hatred baby?
The heated ache inside?
The pulse that beats incessantly?
The disgust I do not hide?
A soul that's non-existent.
No conscience left inside.
If not for jail time, baby,
I'd **** you for my pride!
Imagine an enduring torture,
And the pain that will ensue,
Cause Karma's got a lovely way,
Of catching right up with you.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 6:44 PM UTC
Songster, not as sinister as they say,
she's no monster, just admittedly
a bit lost in her way.
she caves as I'm walking
down the hall.
I pick her up, off of that flooring,
the rubbery kind, whatever it is,
I guess it's rubber, but the kind that
squeaks when you walk on it after
coming in from the rain; to hell with poetry.
And so anyways I pick her up
and sit her on this bench next to me
and give her about five minutes to come to
terms with breathing and pick shimmering
auburn hair out of the tears smeared across her face,
two, mesmerizing, perfectly blue wells
the source of the streams.
And then I ask her what that
was all about and she blurts out that she
belongs in the Fine Arts Department,
and her car broke down months ago
but her father
doesn't give a **** about it,
because she can't lay up the basketball
or steal the base and so he honorably
lump summed her entire tuition
and sent her to another state
and how ****** she would be
if she had to get a job for the first
time at the age of twenty three
so she wouldn't have to be
dependent on her family and
that she was sick of wondering why
not a single guy had ever given her
a ******* flower
and that if she ever did end up liking one
two weeks later she would find out that he
was exactly the same as the others and
she had a broken look in her eyes
when she said she wondered why we were
all here in the first place, and how we were
made this way, and if people were actually
ever meant to fit together or not;
*what if there was nothing as certain
as two halves making a whole?*
She wanted to know how everyone's
mind had a different game to play,
she wanted to know why Jupiter
had to be so far away and everything in
between.
We had strolled off of the school grounds by
this time but I still looked twice before pulling out my flask.
I unscrewed the cap, handed it to her and said
*follow me to Deadbeat Hollow,
where we've already thrown
our problems out of the window*
and she said
lets go.
May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
you weren't around much
i wasn't worth your time
you left and said we'd stay in touch
but the days we spent together began to decline
you stopped coming around
you didn't even call
but as I got older I found
that my tears weren't worth it at all
you always said you loved me
but we both know that was a lie
you weren't built to raise a family
you didn't really try
your actions spoke louder than your words
which isn't saying much
your actions showed us you were a ****
considering you left in such a rush
you made it seem like you always put your kids first
when in reality you treated us the worst
i don't really consider you my dad
only because almost every memory I have of you is bad
this is the side of you, that you always hid from me
from now on the only thing I can call you is a deadbeat
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
The trees juice swallowing
Dread-locks opening the
key to my heart
Pulling Amber Agate to the end
wishing the wagon
was my good luck hand
So helpful than my
hallucination struggling
wilderness mission
Apple abandoned Mcintosh
her computer
The thirst compelled her
So Gingerly lemon tea
4 -2 beer pockets
Four letters not to like
H-E-L-P____$$$
if you only knew abandoned hike
Imagining stew of rabbits
Four people Fast Wendy
4 meals for 4
Sahara desert burger
The Amber ghost of
two wrinkled catalyst
Did time desert me
4:44? Paralyzed list
No Star wars may the
force be with Amberlized
Quicksand lowered
water was drying
Her abandoned party
type Diva evaporated lava
Amber the corner of her lip
all pruned couldn't sing
Slenderman slumber nails and dirt
Amber people are the strange
wagon getting hurt
1- Hot it is (..)
2- Is it wrong to feel abandoned
3-Wrong being sold out to Uncle Sam
What was?
4- Was she blinded all alone S-O-S
5- SOS surrender distressed wood belong?
6- Belong to be dumped
near a wagon deadbeat song
7- Song didn't move lonely emptiness
, please help
8- Help wanted not just any sign
9- Sign was stolen and Amber rose
10- Rose so ember plain and desert storm
he gulped
11- Gulped left with one (.)
12- One far two stars bygones
13- Bygone the last line 13 I= phones
Help______
deleted numbers
Now don't disappear on me
I was abandoned too many times
The dirt and the sand stayed still
No cell phone picture to install
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 7:03 AM UTC
My seed, my seed, why do I despise thee?
Never, have I been respected for my
Generous gifts given in between thighs.
One mischievous night that I could not flee
And now I’m bound to you through my money.
I did not want you; now you’re always nigh
You somehow stimulate every sigh
Laud’num doesn’t dull your presence, my seed.
Sometimes, I think – but no – my mind’s tangled.
Red *** riddles reveal… nothing. I find
These psychotropic fantasies have slid
Beyond me and you, I could not wrangle.
Years will pass ‘til we meet, but the check’s signed
Because ********* my seed, you’re my kid.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
Drunk ***** mother
Screws another another
Hard working father
Taxes alimony smother
Kids home alone
Raised by the brother
Trading her food stamps
For ***** like other drunk tramps
In another car wreck
Drunk ***** fine
Hurt the kids neck
Cops and judge say
What the heck
Just keep sending her
That fat check
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 7:22 PM UTC
She dreamed of leaving
But was stuck in a deadbeat town
One day she went outside
The next she was never found
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 7:23 PM UTC
Hare Krishna's
In their Pickups
Depressed Comics
Down on their Luck
Teenage Girls
Screaming Meme's
****** Pinko's*
Leftward Leaning
Vincent Price
Flo and Eddie
Rodger Rabbit
Priscilla Presley
Nuns in Habits
Dwarf's in Ponchos
Deadbeat Dads
Munching Nachos
Right-Wing Nut Jobs
Trading Slogans
A few Hero's
Including Hogan
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Buddhist Monks
With Electric Banjos
Holding Signs Up
Of Marlon Brando
Taxi Cabs
Blaring Show Tunes
Pregnant Women
Down-loading Soon
Derby Jockeys
Flying Monkeys
Kool-Aidholics
Skittle Junkies
Bozo The Clown
Bumper Stickers
Psychedelic
Crazed Toad Lickers
Rhinestone Cowboys
In their Skivvies
Gothic Girls
Heebie Jeebies
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Blue Haired Granny's
In pink Moo Moos
Ballerina's In
Tattered Tutus
Mathematician's
Number Crunchers
Even have Some
Out to Lunchers
Model 50's
*Do *** Daddies*
One More Round Of
Flo and Eddie
People Sneaking
Across the Border
Lonely Fry Cooks
Taking Orders
A Few Wannabes
Not Saying Much
Will The Real Elvis
Please Stand Up
Are just a few of the sights that you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Thank you...Thank you very Much
Ladies and Gentlemen
Elvis...Has Left The Building
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
superimposition of celestial ampersand:
a continuity of all things
stars hanging loose in the pupil
of this deadbeat word.
typhoons in a swirl of tempestuous ballet,
dogs shivering in the blue cold,
biting their canine integument the way
scarabs would, sinking in a temporal flotsam-way within tectonic display
of text
hectares of blank stares bringing
to life lysergic field of black birds.
and then some
equal number of evocativeness:
continuing on into the ground
are the bones warm in their compost.
the sudden fragrance of rat ****
appeals to the masses.
too much laughter in flooded thoroughfares pockmarked by
the vehement jam of staccato jackhammer.
choking us is today's headline
in supreme obbligato - its stench
reeks of libidinal perfume etched
in the flesh of the rigmarole.
one filthy day in Manila.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
i don't know what my father sounds like when he laughs,
laughs where his sides are splitting and tears are in his eyes.
i only know his grin, his slight chuckle.
honestly, i hardly remember his voice;
something about a southern drawl
gently dabbed on syllables
spit out between the touch of nicotine, wrapped
in paper, to his lips.
i know the clothes that i wear mimic
his choice in clothes, somehow.
i know he will not walk me down the aisle,
and this is my decision.
this is my decision, and it will break my heart.
it will break my heart only
because it will break his,
like genetics somehow link emotion
across generations.
i cannot let him run my life,
like pretending to own a car that
isn't in his name;
borrowed from the person who
washes it gently, details the inside,
maintains its running parts.
turning children into property,
it's like trying to take a house that
you used to live in, years and years ago,
but forgot you had the keys to.
you test the locks, and when the door welcomes you
in for the first steps across a threshold
you call it "home" again.
you forget that there is a family on the couches.
a mother cleaning the kitchen.
a brother fixing the shudders.
the house has moved on,
but cannot bear to close its door to you.
this is our relationship.
this is our dynamic.
it has taught me that it hurts to tell him no.
it is expected for him to not care what hurts.
it has taught me how to run from guilt and shame,
destroying past and future in fits of
self-destructive rage,
just to forget the things i've done
or are happening to me.
it's taught me how it feels for a heart to break
from forgetting pieces of someone it loves.
but this hasn't taught me how to fix it,
and i don't think he knows how to, either.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 1:25 AM UTC
She's thoroughbred hunger
From her double shift mom to her deadbeat dad
She tiptoes through junkyard junglegyms
Collecting alleyway beach glass
She learned to swindle
Haggled survival with the big guy
Big sisters traded on corners
She was one
Karma mustve forgotten
While doing rounds
She's got an invincible soul
Stitched of disappointments
Wrapped in sorrow
Hope as a bow
He's thoroughbred gluttony
From mommas limelight jewels to daddy's sin-shined shoes
He learned to swindle
To thrive
Wall street walk on the 99%
Politician promises
To impermanent faces
Costly trips
To extravagant places
Mixing up "enough"
With "more"
Looking for happiness
In a store
Though it seems to me
Whats made of life
Is what makes life worth living for
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC