"dimwits" poems
My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.
My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.
A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.
A devilish ********** of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.
Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.
A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.
Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.
Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.
Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.
A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.
A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)
A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.
A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.
A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.
An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.
A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.
A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.
Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.
A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.
Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
Autistically
speaking
I applaud
your intelligence!
flap flap
clap clap
when you
don't think
before
you think
flap flap
clap clap
or open your
*******
******* mouth!
and disparage
and belittle
those with
a learning
disability.
But then maybe
It's you who is
disabled
as you don't
seem able to
distinguish
between what
is right and wrong
what is cruel and kind
flap flap
clap clap
in your ignorance
you are blind
and your
intellectual mind
is a snob
of the worse kind
Looking down
from your high brow
because you
are so clever
I forget
Let's all applaud
and you can remark
(Out of context of course)
that they're all ******* retards
flap flap
clap clap
Well aren't you hard!
You bully when
you say
the dimwits
and the morons,
unloveable,
undateable,
unwanted,
a drain of society
they should all be
put down.
Not somebody
you would choose
to be friends with
or if you did
it would be so you
take advantage of
an idiots good nature
and pure heart!
flap flap
clap clap
Or so you
could look good
in comparison
to them
and maybe it
would knock your
own IQ up
a number or two!
Your average ******
could teach you a
thing about numbers
if you asked them
And you wouldn't want
your own kids
playing
with them
incase they catch it....
Catch what?....
the ability to be
awesome
to think outside
the box
to see feel and
understand
and experience
the world and
people in a
completely
unheard of way.
To smell colours
and taste words,
and your inability
to deviate from
anything other
than your narrow
little mind
really is absurd!
So let's all clap
and flap flap
flap flap flap
and maybe
shriek a bit too!
They are the true
freethinkers
the true misfits
the pure and
the truly blessed
They are
the ones
the people
who are
"different"
"Individual"
as you
would like
to be
flap flap
clap clap
You ignorant ****
Autistically speaking
Who's the ****** now?
©Jacqui Slade
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
my party hats have been hacking this green ****
pitching these ill bent ravens and Q-tips
jinxing the midday with famine
and lightning
a brite spot of bother and dead garlands...
hard garters and soft mottoes
murmured in wisdom of dimwits
a false lovely.
needing things kills
and kills often
god ponders yonder as we dismiss...
but taunt.
you gain a third world
to keep your clean mind soiled
in brine
to pickle the pickle
indeed.
and
you haven't any sugar
in your tea.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 2:15 PM UTC
It’s the billionaire’s coup–Trump, Putin and Musk.
They’re bleeding us out, from dawn until dusk.
Consumer protections, arts, farms, forestry–
the billionaires say they’re not necessary.
From the money they save, the tax cuts will come
to the billionaires, the millionaires, their daughters and sons.
Balance the budget, so they can all have some.
So many workers deemed useless and lazy,
such as nuclear engineers–whoops! Are they crazy?
Shredding all of Congress’s appropriations
and thumbing their noses at all other nations.
Except Putin’s, because, he’s one of them--
the billionaire’s club of rich white old men,
who share dreams of ransacking the whole world, entire,
until all of it ends in storms, floods and fire.
Then off via SpaceX past the Milky Way’s limits.
No, that’s not possible. But deep down they’re dimwits.
You can fool some of us, all of the time,
You can’t fool us all, and I’ll end this rhyme:
We’ll protest, we’ll sue, we’ll go out on strikes.
And if the time comes–their heads stuck on pikes.
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 12:50 AM UTC
I ponder what my parents told me,
“The light in your eyes is back.”
Not because I am happy,
(or sober…)
Its because I stare at the dimly lit skyline
In the City of Brotherly Love,
In a melancholy manner.
While I could make some cliché allegory
Of a cigarette being another source of faint luminescence.
But I am a college student,
A speck of a presence drowning in dimwits,
With such bright futures ahead!
(Along with a large sum of debt.)
So while I sit and stare
At the city lights,
Soaking in suicidal thoughts at the SEPTA station.
Remember the light in my eyes
Is a reflection of those city lights.
Dimly lit,
Not aflame.
I have no one but myself to blame.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 3:37 PM UTC
You never
thought I'd
say never.
Get Clever.
**** a sickle from the star,
fuckin' stick it in a cross.
Pissin' vinegar, I'm hot.
I don't dance a lot.
Pull it it back
like a bow,
you'll never know
what I'm talking about,
I'll just throw
my paint at
the canvas, let it
work itself out.
Pucker up and tuck
it in. **** it up
and bless your sin.
Keep the privileged in their place
and keep the simple in their space,
there is no common you can't erase.
Too many
fuckin' problems,
you wish
you
could
fuckin' solve 'em.
Too much hate?
Your heart
has never had
to participate.
Fuckin' lonely?
You've got
too much
on your plate.
Reciprocate.
The surface,
the focus,
I'm sure of all of this.
Get clever.
In all seriousness,
I hate to say it's not an art that's improvised, it's more like you camp out, waiting, sitting, wishing, thinking, eating, waiting, sitting, wishing, thinking. Praying like **** for the the snare that you set up in an half assed attempt, like always, ******* hoping it comes through for you. Pathetic isn't it?
I've got too many ideas and as these dimwits stare at the bright light behind me I get sadder.
You're probably getting madder, like I'm a ******* ingrate, It's not too late to call me out because I've just begun my tirade.
Unreadable, I know.
If you made it this far I've got to say, you are completely frivolous, and forlorn;
for that I salute you, and realizing this is all in bad taste, I bid you goodnight.
**** that was fast. Didn't even get to what I meant to.
Jul 31, 2011
Jul 31, 2011 at 9:49 AM UTC
At the will of my wants, I grab at the bag my city has to offer, and coffer up the cash in my crash of a party that never started in the alarmingly empty vessels, settled under the rain, and below the fog in a swamp of frogs, and snakes, where i stake my claims, and state my name at the door.
Its darker here, but there is something more, hiding in the mud, the trees, and under the floor, rising up in waves in a haze of euphoria.
You just know it, it just is, just this feeling of forgotten forests rotting through the ages, of ageless storms that sweltered its soil through the toil of horned beasts, preying on predators creeping through the sleet, reeking of meat that melted in the summer heat.
Now its just a bar where i drink and type into this thing, completely unaware of the people staring at my cheeks flexing as i think, and i think, the sun will rise this time, but i still sink a bit deeper each day, and sign my life to work, in the murky smog where im begotten of beguiled planks that i march right off of.
Smiling, and inspired by the brinks i keep to my chest for the best of dreams to be achieved in the melancholy belief, that it matters to see the light in darker things that often freeze in the shadowy breeze of intellect, but once in, it is infectious, a pleasurable sedative to align my derivatives prism-ed from my vision to the sprawl of letters on the screen.
I pluck and pick what goes into it, and tune out the ridiculous ******** spread all over the dim-lit dimwits dozing in the smokers pit, reciting lines in inadequate rhymes of how they aligned their life's away, with babies and wives, equipped with knives that still hang from their backs.
The solo drunk drools the best, as he laughs.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
a bit faded, i cruise through loose threads in my argument.
i recoil from dimwits that flip wigs and false coin.
i join the null set of lost clubs on main street, discreetly -
but strut like a peacock in leather feathers,
for non -boys...
so many
girls.
i'm in two worlds,
but **** if she don't fit in, pro bono.
she knows what i don't know, like a book spout of lovely.
my bones lend juice to the stew of her gifts, when she'll have me.
but luck gets cut and what not, and better fellas
rob joy from so
many worlds
they're Cuckoo.
i snip pearls
for this
one.
my intentions are
sincere
if not
see-through.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
Some days remembered
are so dark
that I never want to
remember them and some days
are happy as a lark
making me wish that
they would last forever
and forget them
I could never.
Try to realize that
every moment of your life
is the most important moment
so know that no future time
is better than now to let down
your guard and love.
Pride says "it's risky"
as reason says "it's pointless"
but the heart whispers "give it a try"
and sometimes you will have to cry
upon recalling those
days remembered.
Some days remembered are amazing
and some days are happy
and some are sad and some
are amazing happy and sad
all at the same time
so just be glad that you
are human.
Having had some fun
and blessed beyond belief
to have made it this far
I guess what I am still
looking for is a little relief
instead of feeling
like a thief because
my poetry speaks volumes
about some very ugly
parts of my life that
were filled with much strife
and emotions so thick you
could cut them
with a knife.
I 've had some fun
matching wits
with lost love dimwits
and playing their love games
that just left me lame
but with lots of
days remembered and
a knowing that
what sometimes breaks us
makes us stronger
and gives us the power
to go on for just a little longer
as we recall those days
remembered. Jon York 2013
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
As you know, I come from an emotional, dysfunctional delusion
A sort of internal, infernal, disowning confusion
This pain is sempiternal, but I'm a dynamite with the fuse lit
I’m not gonna complain again, cause that’d be useless
I mean it’s not like she’d ever hear the words that I say it's
As if I never spoke them, oh god I'm nuisance
I'm so pessimistic
It's really pathetic
To watch me **** myself over a few sad sentences
I'm so narcissistic
It's really poetic
To tie the knots on my noose with my own words
Before I die though
I'll go on the aggressive
With some passive resistance
Because I'm honestly quite sick of all this constant ********
Call me Ghandi and I'll be quick to dismiss it
Unlike him, I know when I'm through being messed with
And I don't let people step on me like I'm a rug on their doorstep
Unlike me, he's not over possessive
And people didn't call him out for being over obsessive
But we both fight for what we think is right
Except he teaches on the lesson
While I'm kind of offensive
And the amount of times I swear is a little over excessive
But It helps get the point across to these ******* thick headed dimwits
So I can see how I'm not one they'd be impressed with
You know who you are when I'm this far on the defensive
I'm just a little over protective
There's no limit to how much I can stress it
You'd be my way too if you were looking from my perspective.
Because what if all of the sudden
Like a flame in the kitchen
Something you thought was normal grew into something that isn't
Because they only listen
When there is no way of saving
And only when you die do they even look what you've written
Poem after song and song after poem
I'm so sick of all these words unspoken
But I'll let out all my thoughts and that is a promise
So look me in the eyes and I'll be honest
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
☭ ⛧ Ⓐ
Violent dimwits, who riot en masse
remain dimwits, no matter what pass.
Whether paid agitators
or mere perpetrators,
they need a swift kick in the ***
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
Let's see, Emily turned twelve in February(2016), Evan turned fifteen about a week ago(March 2016), I will turn....okay, we can toss that one out the window. It does evoke memories however, memories that will never go away, at least I hope not.
New to this world, lying in your crib, looking up at me while changing your diaper, I could see and almost hear the wheels in your head churning, as if saying, "So you're the dimwits that will be rearing me for the next several years, God help us!" And He did, has, and hopefully, will continue to do so with Evan and Emily. It was a new experience for us, a welcomed responsibility, and I think that Karen and I did a "pretty darned good job!"
We didn't do it alone.
Thank you Lord, for your guidance!
rriddle: 04-03-2016
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
It tells a story, the grip of such men
You can give it a mark from one up to ten
The flaccid none particular of whom you might as well forget
From the strong and sturdy and pleased to meet you, much more of a safe bet
For a hand with five fingers that has no strength will hold up no life long wills
It will crumble and fail at the first sign on danger, never willing to foot the bills
But a rigorous grasp with a smile and heartily clasp is a better hand to follow
Not a weak and wet lettuce, whose hand felt like a cretins, mostly hiding in the shadows
As life can often take us on a path led by utter dimwits
But choose a journey not laid out by those who you just don't seem fit.
JJB
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 4:30 AM UTC
I can't feel my face anymore
It's as if my whole world has gone numb
My wings have been snapped clean off
Now I'm living off the scraps like some type of wild animal
I can't breathe...
Feels like I'm being suffocated by the seven seas
But in actuality it's just the pain getting the best of me
As I crawl attempting to reach sanctuary
But everytime it seems like I'm getting closer to the light
I can feel the darkness creeping up my spine and yanking me back into the heart of the night
It then caress me like a momma to her new born baby
Whispering in my ears there is no escaping
I'm stranded here
And there is no one coming to rescue me
I mean why would they...
I'm in this mess because of those dimwits
Always kicking me and punching me
Making me feel like I'm nothing more then an old piece of chewed up gum stuck to the bottom of your shoes
Can't blame them though,
Because that's what I am
A nuisance, an inconvenience to society
So instead of fighting it let me embrace it
Now I'm dead trapped in a unmarked wooden box
Smiling...
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC
I watched "Judgment at Nuremberg" last
night, I have seen that film many times.
However, in light of our nation's current
chaotic political direction, that theme and
topic have taken on a new unsettling and
dire significance. The implied specter of
the term "National Socialism" is all too
ominous.
73 million people died or were murdered in
WWII when a nation of otherwise normal
rational people were ****** in by listening to
a homely, little possibly insane former German
army Corporal rant and rave their nation into
a frenzy of cultism, and "National Socialism".
Through lies and deceptions, Adolf ******
plunged the entire world into a chaotic and
destructive war.
I can't be the only one to see and be deeply
concerned by the undeniable significance and
similarities of our current parallel direction
towards a National Socialism agenda?
Inspired and led by the newly appointed wonky
cult of administrative dimwits and their newly
self-anointed unstable KING, that appear not
to give a **** about our laws, our Constitution
or any of us as individual free citizens.
Our US government watchdogs the Congress
and Senate seem to have lost their direction and
patriotism, grown spineless and mute under the
spell or fear of King Trump.
Wake up America!
We are headed in a very bad direction.
Mar 6, 2025
Mar 6, 2025 at 9:24 PM UTC