"dirts" poems
Got my background *****
Never my fault, I've tried
Don't even blame my fate
Everyone littered constantly
Put my life under many sweats
Had to wake up and run
Never turning back, just trying
When hardwork pays off
To get that taste in every level
Cramps transformed to rewards
It's a risk to root down deep
Staying in that mode unshakeable
That's how I'm growing through
With all these dirts beneath me
Strengthen my stem and blossom
On the surface like a lotus
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 4:24 AM UTC
I don't need to breathe
I just need to sleep
I need you to stop getting so close to me
I'm a ticking time bomb
Ready to blow
One more second
And my world will explode
I'm Dreaming of death
No regrets
**** all these demons that are filling my head
They tempt me with rest
That final escape
And I'm waiting for the moment that
I finally cave
Lost in a moment
And I'm feeling alright
Maybe even thinking
I don't hate this life
But that light came so fast
And Now it's all passed
My darkness returns
Leaving nothing in its path
I'm Dreaming of death
No regrets
**** all these demons that are filling my head
They tempt me will rest
A final escape
And I'm waiting for the minute that
I finally cave
Ugh
God save my soul
I need a way out
I've been digging my grave
And This dirts coats my mouth
But I know you cant hear me
No I don't believe
Cause I control my own destiny
But I can't do it on my own
I'm Dreaming of death
No regrets
**** all these demons that are filling my head
They tempt me will rest
A final escape
And I'm waiting for the second that
I finally cave
Please, I know you can do it
No
Baby don't give in
I swear it'll change
Just try to make it
One more day
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 6:29 AM UTC
i hope every door that closes on you another one opens,
another opportunity shows,
another chance,
something to hold on,
something better that won't ever close.
i hope the white walls and ceilings you see,
are as clean as your intentions,
those dirts are just imperfections,
that makes up you
you deserve everything you gave away,
you deserve a love that shines everyday, and shows rainbows after the rain.
you deserve the best.
you don't have to be like them,
you don't have to walk, talk or dress like them,
be your own person,
be the one who differs from everyone, that wants to be like any other person.
most girls, are smart and strong and beautiful,
so are you,
the only thing that makes you ugly is the fact that you don't want to embrace you difference.
you are beautiful,
maybe not in the looks but what's important is in the soul.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 6:26 PM UTC
Is this useless?
Am I useless?
Are doubts the mark of wisdom?
As the wise sit and wait.
The greatest advice I heard,
For my family to lift my chin
For my shoulders to lift our backs,
Is that the ground has nothing for eyes.
With one last look around I noticed why,
This debris is interesting, but deprived.
Stories. From what is left behind.
The beginnings of my deductive empathy
Sound like the pauses in my discrepancy
And sure, these countless questions can lead to great things
But when should I release my reticence for my wings?
Another twinge in rhetoric,
A singe in my time's tick
I must look up from the path to see my own,
There is no use in musing at buried bone.
A miser of different dirts will become rich among rubble.
Not believing that anything is worth its trouble,
Is a mark of death, not wisdom.
I am sorry for not seeing this prison.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 5:33 AM UTC
Grown up between the waters
Bridge to Scandinavia
Looked west over the dikes
The lost lands to the sea
Went East to the cliffs
The Russian winds do blow
Back to the middle
Where the gales
Sweep the dirts soul
Jan 22, 2021
Jan 22, 2021 at 9:13 PM UTC
This poem is ridiculous
And you’re so predictable
Together you are
Ridiculously predictable
And you spin your hair
On your skinny little finger
I stop and stare
Let my scent linger
Eyes are a deep sea green
Attitude of a beauty queen
This feels right
It’s a perfect night
But you’re gay
Why are you gay?
You tell me you like men
Kissed a boy in your closet when you were ten
You liked playing with Barbies- but only Ken
I love everything about you
And I am not about to
Leave you alone
With your news paper
You count me out
Keep reading about that ***** shaper
Oh, you make me want to shout
What can I say?
You’re gay
You tell me you like men
Kissed a boy in your closet when you were ten
You liked playing with Barbies- but mostly Ken
Tight jeans and collared shirts
Stick up your nose at the dirts
Got your cappuccino and walk around
Crush your cigarette butts into the ground
Get your books for class
Tap your boyfriend’s ***
God, you’re so predictable
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 9:52 PM UTC
Not one for sunshine, she preferred the shade. Understandable. Arizona can be a real ***** if you know what I mean. Even the cactuses are dried stiff and developed sun-callouses. She was tired of drinking sand in her water, sand in her air, lungs grity like dentist tooth paste. She was also blind, never saw the yellow of the sun but knew of the light, its brightness its harsh ways. She was aware of the prickly green cactuses, the rattle snakes with their innards cooking during lunch time. This woman wanted to live with trees now. Desert had been a past time to dream about during her youth, she heard of the bitter dirts and dry airs and miles of flat land broken by large mounds of mountain (that she never saw but trusted existed). Her nephew was a grown *** man, coming over every now and again to keep her some company while her company slowly reduced her hours, told her to lay off working, her bones were getting brittle, would snap, a hip would pop, and really the way she stared without seeing into their eyes was just a little unnerving. She hated her job. Hated her nephew, who even without seeing his face could tell he was a large, sweaty pastey guy who constantly wiped his face with a towel. She wasn't sad or unpleasant, just real, honest with herself and others in ways people couldn't quite appreciate just yet, not yet. Not until one day they realize all isn't peachy and fine, and that everything is insane, and then they realize the insanity is what makes everything worth living for anyway. She could see this. With no sight, she could see and she would smile, then frown because she could feel the curiousity of onlookers trying to figure her out. People weren't for figuring out, they were for watching and moving along as if nothing had ever happend. And in this way, she moved.
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
My life has taken another course,
Every emotional thread squeezed of its strength
Bravery and patience washed carefully from my soul
While servitude has become my must-play role
Why have I become a bitter person?
Was it not I who was full of vigour some years ago?
Then why has circumstances and events made me so?
I'm not afraid to make this confession. No, I'm not
For denying myself the freedom truth brings has made me rust
I've been spiteful, seeking vengeance and expecting apologies!
Wanting to correct every wrong and be free of those worries
Being used and abused in all ways because I let them
I see the devil behind their looks and I still hold on to their hem
Believing and trusting the love I express will be reciprocated
Confusing vile hard thrusts with love thought to be unadulterated
Heartbreaks became dirts in my skin that couldn't be washed
And the aftermath was pains that didn't wanna be rushed
Everyone's had a role to play and has left their marks
Some are sores I'm still nursing, others memories I hold dear to heart
I've consoled myself many times by saying "Que sera sera"
It's high time I took an action that'll truly put behind that era
So now I'm just going to act and play the game "wild and free"
And I implore everyone who knows about my sooty pasts to let me be
This newly found freedom has a temperament that wildly burns,
And I'm going to take each day brightly or as it comes!
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
I met someone
we had some fun
then we were done
he made me so happy I couldn’t write
he made me so happy I didn’t bite
he made me so hopeful I thought we might...
I met this man
whose daddy hand
could burn my sand
we stole each other’s shirts
kissed each other where it hurts
planted flowers in these dirts
repainted stained and tainted glass
gave each other words to pass
decided not to pay for class
alas...
sand falls through spaces
between fingers’ interlaces
wind blows it in our faces
we shared some time
body soul and mind
there is no rewind
I said things I didn’t mean
Across the darkness like a screen
Pages burned and turned the scene
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
My life has taken another course,
Every emotional thread squeezed of its strength
Bravery and patience washed carefully from my soul
While servitude has become my must-play role
Why have I become a bitter person?
Was it not I who was full of vigour some years ago?
Then why has circumstances and events made me so?
I'm not afraid to make this confession. No, I'm not
For denying myself the freedom truth brings has made me rust
I've been spiteful, seeking vengeance and expecting apologies!
Wanting to correct every wrong and be free of those worries
Being used and abused in all ways because I let them
I see the devil behind their looks and I still hold on to their hem
Believing and trusting the love I express will be reciprocated
Confusing vile hard thrusts with love thought to be unadulterated
Heartbreaks became dirts in my skin that couldn't be washed
And the aftermath was pains that didn't wanna be rushed
Everyone's had a role to play and has left their marks
Some are sores I'm still nursing, others memories I hold dear to heart
I've consoled myself many times by saying "Que sera sera"
It's high time I took an action that'll truly put behind that era
So now I'm just going to act and play the game "wild and free"
And I implore everyone who knows about my sooty pasts to let me be
This newly found freedom has a temperament that wildly burns,
And I'm going to take each day brightly or as it comes!
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
flick, inhale, bubble, exhale.
clean my ******* carpet, i've let this go on long enough.
might as well clean the whole place, no one else will.
able bodied, but the joke's on them. the dirts on me, last week is in the ashtray.
flick, inhale. ******* clogged.
i got hasty again; i hate it when i do that **** go through pages in books i read like i didn't write.
******* **** i write like someone's ever going to read.
the cup's half full of a whole year of nothing. the cup's dry.
i'm dry, high and dry. and to what extent?
flick, inhale, choke.
go back in.
there's black **** all over my keyboard.
that smell is back all over me, on the ends of my jacket sleeves.
i learned in anatomy what exactly it is.
i can't help but realize that i'm a god **** specimen, taking articulate notes on intricacies i cannot even fathom about myself. i've never felt so blunderously powerful.
flick, bubble, inhale.
i touch your hips to make sure you still exist. and to what extent? every extent, every branch, swing. left or right, you're right. stung just once, not me.
i drift away like it's an allergy, like it's some type of disease.
choke.
i never did clean my sheets. not since her, but after her, i lit it up like wildfire.
i repeat history, but i keep it clean. it's no one's fault these kinds of things are inherited.
like father, like daughter.
no, you cannot expect the morphine to help, if you don't want it to help.
**** it. flick, inhale, exhale.
**** it, if no body is looking. because you can't feel it if somebody's waiting, you wait to please.
**** it, twelve steps ahead is only twelve steps farther from the very place you want to be back at.
**** it. nothing will ever stay clean in this **** house, the dirt will always come back.
the proof is in the way he walks, that he is your son.
there is nothing to do but be patient.
fli-flick, inhale,
exhale.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
Of what lies the fate of being One? The aspirations of a paradise fast forgone.
Peers that flux to tame tide. Dreams of Heroes they far together glide. Morrows they lived to prosper in love. Affections that glow, no one needs to plough.
Rustic although was dark. ***** although civilisation was lack.
Yet! Still yet!!!
The bluntness of the spear cuts through many hearts.
Her invincible hand drops inventions of it kind to dirts.
A long journey into the wood is what draws nearer.
Moonlight folklores, dominating smell of affection in d air. Hopefulness of hopeless tomorrow’s meal a Dear.
Sounds of the storm, through pavorated doors, roofs left ajar.
The storm of life rages to scatter the sands.
Erosion into throats wanders fleshes into pounds.
Everyone, many one, all one soughts to touch what brains now serve as it grows. Big houses, bigger pockets, a good life as it goes.
Exodus of now, without a Moses of now into a promised land that Joshua never belonged. Pillars of light, Amalekites in all ways with many Yawehs.
Now! All is touched, many is known except a paradise that used to be. Crowds are made, Banks now a pocket, and so are Devils that flux as Bee.
Nostalgia haunts like nightmare. Ways back summons with all lyrics.
All ways looks like that fare. Heart longs, threatens to pieces.
I set back to trace all tunnels.
All tunnels that lead to paradise far forgone.
A Granny that gets all into her without funnel.
An uncle that treats all for one.
Journey that used to b an epic now concave. Rural that reminds paradise now like the hell forgone.
All I long to see now gone with the wave. Things are no more the way it used to be while we were one.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 10:31 AM UTC
I woke up so early to work
Sometimes I don't even see my kids before going to work due to I might be late for work
Working early and going home late
My kids are right when they called me uncle instead of dad
That's madness in the highest order
I don't have time for my family but only for that man who hated me with passion
Yet I work for the growth and development of his company
That's madness
Working for someone who does not value nor care about my professional growth
Working for the man who always deduct my money whenever I attend class for my personal and professional growth which will also help his company
Yet I still work for this man
That's madness
There are many other companies out there
Yet I can't leave this monster am working for
That's madness
But yet I still have to do the job
Because I needed the job for money
I was called all sorts of name yet I responded yes sir accepting all the insult just for the sake of money
I give my best to the man who will never want me to be my own boss
If am told am mad will I argue it? No
If am told am insane of course the person is right about me
Worked under him for five years and no promotion and salary increment
Yet am still working with him
Madness is not when you run naked in the streets and started picking dirts on the floor
I said to my self
Am mad
And I know now
Which means is a step to solving my madness
I have to leave this monster
I have to leave this blood ******* vampire
I have to leave this man without human feelings
That was the solution to my madness
What's yours?
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
The truth hurts
As bad as dirts
Better respect it's spurt
Stimulating like a glance in that mini skirt
generating images of hands in my shirt
Better be told with smile like a flirt
Than withholding enslaved in a chert
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 5:49 AM UTC
Momma!
I am your poem.
From that mountain hole
Too many pains left
And from the island of the vexation
A little pleasure on the journey twinkle They made a missiles
I was fabricated just below your heart
And I am the part of it
Just by planting a tree farm
Trouble dirts your hands
I was penned from composition of roughness
And I am the stanzza of it
Thunder thrown out of your eyes
They are more expensive than pearls
Drinking nano water
I was masterminded
And I am the Masterpiece of it
The debt too scared by itself
Searching for fertilizer tissue
Selling the blood of your own
I was painted from the words of penalty
And I am the same book of it
Momma ! I'm not a poetess
I am your poetry ....
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 9:02 PM UTC
Of what lies the fate of being One? The aspirations of a paradise fast forgone.
Peers that flux to tame tide. Dreams of Heroes they far together glide. Morrows they lived to prosper in love. Affections that glow, no one needs to plough.
Rustic although was dark. ***** although civilisation was lack.
Yet! Still yet!!!
The bluntness of the spear cuts through many hearts.
Her invincible hand drops inventions of it kind to dirts.
A long journey into the wood is what draws nearer.
Moonlight folklores, dominating smell of affection in d air. Hopefulness of hopeless tomorrow’s meal a Dear.
Sounds of the storm, through pavorated doors, roofs left ajar.
The storm of life rages to scatter the sands.
Erosion into throats wanders fleshes into pounds.
Everyone, many one, all one soughts to touch what brains now serve as it grows. Big houses, bigger pockets, a good life as it goes.
Exodus of now, without a Moses of now into a promised land that Joshua never belonged. Pillars of light, Amalekites in all ways with many Yawehs.
Now! All is touched, many is known except a paradise that used to be. Crowds are made, Banks now a pocket, and so are Devils that flux as Bee.
Nostalgia haunts like nightmare. Ways back summons with all lyrics.
All ways looks like that fare. Heart longs, threatens to pieces.
I set back to trace all tunnels.
All tunnels that lead to paradise far forgone.
A Granny that gets all into her without funnel.
An uncle that treats all for one.
Journey that used to b an epic now concave. Rural that reminds paradise now like the hell forgone.
All I long to see now gone with the wave. Things are no more the way it used to be while we were one.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
On Hello Poetry, they are all the rage,
See them each day trend for awful sake.
Massive egos with single digit readerships,
Their whole purpose on HP is puff-fakery.
The pests shure love their odd, fake names,
To comment on themselves, how very lame.
Look at them but do not, seriously read,
Each poem they write is but a base need.
A bad yearning to fill their empty souls,
Please don't 'like' them - it's rather old.
Shiftless and hollow are their fleabag pleas,
Wannabes will always, pathetically, wanna be.
Some pests like to pose they are dying,
All pests fake they are meaningful, crying.
Some pests pretend to be smart as Rabbis,
Writing wisdomless couplets endearing swine.
Some pests pretend to be noble as wolves,
Feeding their sheep the ranks of their stools.
Most pests on HP are prodigious sycophants,
First they love, love you until another chants.
Fly-by-nighters are all the brown-nosed pests,
Wallowing in the very dirts they feign protest.
If you see a pest on the sad pages playing,
Just ignore them, they may soon go awaying.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
distant thoughts and torn up places
ridiculed hearts and demolished faces
depicted as love but all i feel is hate
if you surround yourself with flowers
you do not truly appreciate
the darkness in my mind
pitch black in every corner
my knowledge is a light
but this light is for me
only i can see
you try to get in
youre trying to win
a competition of mental instability
comparing yourself to the dirts fertility
you are not a flower
you are not a maze
you are a scared little girl
trapped in a haze
you think being sad is a trend?
well i'll tell you what, my friend
this depressions gonna trap you
and it will never end
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC
You play and drenched in dirts
And you know how it hurts
It is enemy's art
But HIS grace fixed your heart
You taste a new life
No more grief
Free from strife
Vindicated to be HIS wife
The enemy still lingers
Chasing you away from your SAVIOR
Still wanting you to put in danger
Don't get wrapped by his finger!
At your heart he still knocks
Say goodbye and turn back
Don't give him kisses
Cling to LORD's promises
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 11:41 PM UTC
When I almost reached home, I took some water from the ocean. It is as blue as the morning sky.
I passed the market, and bought
you a cup. It is as brownish as the earth I used to plough.
Then I put my best clothes, made of old rags. Sewed by my old lady.
And i walked over the plants, picked a blooming daffodil.
I did not have it wrapped, nor any ribbon to cover it up.
I ran to your garden, faster andfaster till I caught my breath.
I saw you standing there, in your garden of Eden, with a man holding your white hand.
He got roses. Red and white and pink and blue.
He got a sparkling bottle and a beautifully crafted wooden basket.
I just stood there, watching you. Watching him. Watching me.
I poured the blue water to the ground. Left the cup above the earth and the dirts.
Ripped my clothes into pieces of rags.
And i ran, as fast as the wind.
Heading to the ocean.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 4:26 AM UTC
Mark the ink that you want to write
Feelings,intention to your soul body and mind
Its the thing that we want to express
Write everything that we want
No limitations
Spread the words
Ignore the dirts
Just focus on what you want
Our spirit
Lives through
Living and floating
Like we're on top of the orange pluffy clouds
Moon were covered by the sun when its daytime
The sun that enlightens us to wake up every morning
We are the living soul
Scattered all over the World
Mind make us stress and depress to think of everything
Why don't we put them aside?
And enjoy for a little while
You don't need to force yourself
Just like everyone
Writing Is what we want
Cause every poet has their message to convey.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC
One mysterious day , I woke up lately...
Striving still,to finish the broken dream completely.
Peeping out from the windows, were the Sun's glow.
But I was in no mood to give up my pillow....
With an eye opened and other closed.....stretching and yawning, I did shut the windows.
Though that moment, something more worse awaited for me, surely.
Seeing which i even cried, worriedly.....
Dirts scattered here and dirts scattered there,
smiling at me like a devil, present there.....
Next moment, I was sitting in the empty room,
holding in hand.....a stupid BROOM !!!!
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 5:55 AM UTC
Foe of several eras, why do ye love?
Dirt is ruinous to be here, near sky.
Get out, get out, O temptress, you’re no Dove.
You’re a scourge to the eye.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:39 AM UTC
rags of cloud top the wind
a dirt of wind turns your face,
arranged,
a pace of cloud dirts your face
the top of wind rags your pace;
the lines, now, for you
your face a pace of rain
the wind a race of dirt
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 5:30 AM UTC