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"disagreeable" poems
The art of being humorously disagreeable~ Amitav
0
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
Sarcasm
Telephones. Earphones. Earplugs. To drown out Baby cries. Engines exhaling. Anxiety. "Don't be afraid" "You've done this before" "He knows what he's doing" The tired. The disagreeable. The impossibly experienced. Tickets. Bags. Smile-free faces. I'm ready. You're ready. Let's go already.
0
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
Airport
A muse is not a fairy godmother Or a genie in a lamp A muse is a disagreeable ***** Who shows up whenever she pleases And offers mostly excuses For ideas left undeveloped. Sometimes she offers up nothing but recycled cliches freshly polished and smelling of chocolate chip cookies. Don’t come around when the muse and I are wrestling – It is definitely not a pretty sight. But when we’re done - Both of us lying exhausted on the floor - That’s when she’ll say something really meaningful- Or at least it always seems meaningful At the time.
0
Jul 2, 2011
Jul 2, 2011 at 12:22 PM UTC
The Muse
17 untold horrors Innumerable errors Front of no worries Inside of painful flurries Fighting down the guilt The pain The fear The anger The hate Of actions Of the past Present Full of resent Never being good enough For self standards 3 times 3 full restarts 3 times failed Sadness Not being able to be What is needed Knowing those laid to rest Would be ashamed And Enflamed Being a self That is despicable Unreadable Disagreeable Unchanging Lacking the will To change And fulfill All that is wanted Knowing that self Is broken
0
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 6:53 AM UTC
Untitled
by Damon G . glum, morose, surly, sulky, crabbed, saturnine, gloomy mean showing a forbidding or disagreeable mood. sullen implies a silent ill humor and a refusal to be sociable     I'M BECOMING UNWOUND . glum suggests a silent dispiritedness . morose adds to glum an element of bitterness or misanthropy     I NEED SOMETHING TO HAPPEN . surly implies gruffness and sullenness of speech or manner     A VIOLENT THING, EVEN . sulky suggests childish resentment expressed in peevish sullenness . crabbed applies to a forbidding morose harshness of manner    THE CRUSH OF A BREAKDOWN . saturnine describes a heavy forbidding aspect or suggests a bitter disposition    A REASON TO WANT TO . gloomy implies a depression in mood making for seeming sullenness or glumness .    GET UP AGAIN
0
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 9:51 PM UTC
Bereft At The Loss
In nature, as in civilised homes, there is evidence of conformity That only significant study would make apparent, but his studies were suspicious and neighbours would talk The nose is bleeding and his pretty song is skipping on the jukebox by the bathroom door Anhedonia now is constant, the pathos inherent As their mother went missing years ago While they read Proust by the window, and the day was drawing closed Their father was sick with Absinthe shakes whilst little duck starved in the pond behind the house On disagreeable days, profound introspection becomes not more than subversive psycho-babble and the words he speaks are dust on the tongue a bother and little more Purported to be perpetually depressed, his cool demeanor left an impression on his sister, as she would gaze upwards at his face, displaying world-weariness So Weltschmerz they called him and his cool was palpable but only her smile could bring colour to his fa-*
0
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Anomalous Anomie and the Thorough Breakdown of Familial Bonds or Literary Ambitions
Vince ate a green quince which made his tummy wince a wincing tummy was most disagreeable for poor Vince green quinces Vince shall be leaving alone as they cause his delicate tummy to moan and groan
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Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 7:47 PM UTC
Wince
our host fears nothing more than he fears the rodeo. he is drunk and rubbing his plain face with a coarse sponge. he thinks the presentation of blood on his cheekbones is proof of clown make-up. I side with the group labeling him as harmless. those in the disagreeable group lock themselves away in our host’s bathroom. though the group is small, its two most vocal members have been struggling with their weight and a third is quietly pregnant. I take it upon myself to worry about the amount of air the group has. when the door is unsurprisingly jammed, I keep calm and remove my shoes just as what looks like rust water floods from beneath the door and carries them behind me to where the host is not dancing after all but stomping his bare feet alternately square on a hamster. my best friend of three days wants to save the hamster but cannot believe the short length of its tail. I try to explain that I am not helpless. that I am steeped in tradition and was formerly employed as the guy who chews down the fingernails of professional bull riders. the thing about ****** is that you haven’t done it until you’ve done it with me. **** is a harsh word for relocation.
0
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
the altitude
this is how women should spend time with men... she's lying in a missionary position... and she's telling you: with eyes closed... i'm dancing... you what?! you're dancing?! **** me... if you're dancing... i'm riding a ****** horse to the next Mongolian horde conquest! that's how nights should look like... i get th8s plump ass-bitch: i tell her... i think i dreamed of you... does it matter? the one time i tried ********* i wanted one of the girls to not be there... this first time i tried getting a *** replacement of ****** i was like: fair ******* enough... we're both moaning without taking... i'm talking to the night and constellations... my shadow: i am the shadow... i have no shadow... this how men should be allowed to live their lives... i love the scent of a woman on my body... she might have ****** a thousand ***** before me... but?! she's the most eager to kiss me! she even showcased her legs.. barely shaven... to me... sure... girl... you might require a shave or too... i don't mind... your lips are candy-sweet to me... that's why i perfumed my beard for her... i wanted her sickly sweet dreaming... my god.. i love a fattened girl! the more fat on a girl the more... allowance... pouches of kisses and disagreeable hands touching pouches that ought not exist! the excesses of thighs! my god! i rub my beard i grind my teeth... these women are alive! i need more of them! i need them fattened-up! more hip frenzy and less school-girl no thigh ick... i need them fat... i love a fat girls... with bulging brown eyes... thank god i washed myself before the encounter... i spread enough aftershave onto my beard... i love the scent of a woman on my body... it's like the Cologne of Cologne... i love the scent of unwashed hair... raven... **** i would rather sleep with 100 women than encounter an exploration of consciousness with a hallucinogenic drug... **** me... before she ****** off to Romania: i'm the "BIGGIE"... great... now i have a nickname in the brothel... light-fucking-fantastic... i'm "BIGGIE"... she closes her eyes and plays the "violin" with my ******* and chest hair... fuck's sake... "BIGGIE"... call me BAGPIPE from now on in... BIGGIE... o.k.: i can stomach that... i'm BIGGIE.. fair enough... if you want to love as many as you want to love but not marry: which actually implies more than one... i can be BIGGIE... i don't mind... i love prostitutes too much!
0
Aug 27, 2022
Aug 27, 2022 at 9:40 PM UTC
"Biggie"
this is how women should spend time with men... she's lying in a missionary position... and she's telling you: with eyes closed... i'm dancing... you what?! you're dancing?! **** me... if you're dancing... i'm riding a ****** horse to the next Mongolian horde conquest! that's how nights should look like... i get th8s plump ass-bitch: i tell her... i think i dreamed of you... does it matter? the one time i tried ********* i wanted one of the girls to not be there... this first time i tried getting a *** replacement of ****** i was like: fair ******* enough... we're both moaning without taking... i'm talking to the night and constellations... my shadow: i am the shadow... i have no shadow... this how men should be allowed to live their lives... i love the scent of a woman on my body... she might have ****** a thousand ***** before me... but?! she's the most eager to kiss me! she even showcased her legs.. barely shaven... to me... sure... girl... you might require a shave or too... i don't mind... your lips are candy-sweet to me... that's why i perfumed my beard for her... i wanted her sickly sweet dreaming... my god.. i love a fattened girl! the more fat on a girl the more... allowance... pouches of kisses and disagreeable hands touching pouches that ought not exist! the excesses of thighs! my god! i rub my beard i grind my teeth... these women are alive! i need more of them! i need them fattened-up! more hip frenzy and less school-girl no thigh ick... i need them fat... i love a fat girls... with bulging brown eyes... thank god i washed myself before the encounter... i spread enough aftershave onto my beard... i love the scent of a woman on my body... it's like the Cologne of Cologne... i love the scent of unwashed hair... raven... **** i would rather sleep with 100 women than encounter an exploration of consciousness with a hallucinogenic drug... **** me... before she ****** off to Romania: i'm the "BIGGIE"... great... now i have a nickname in the brothel... light-fucking-fantastic... i'm "BIGGIE"... she closes her eyes and plays the "violin" with my ******* and chest hair... fuck's sake... "BIGGIE"... call me BAGPIPE from now on in... BIGGIE... o.k.: i can stomach that... i'm BIGGIE.. fair enough... if you want to love as many as you want to love but not marry: which actually implies more than one... i can be BIGGIE... i don't mind... i love prostitutes too much!
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63
If anyone has a right to be angry, it's me. Everyone has a right to be angry, probably. A few things I've found disagreeable with society: that's my eating disorders, depression, and anxiety. Also my family never noticed anything wrong and continued to blame me if I couldn't go along with any of their superficial acts of merriment which hid deep flaws, there's no way I could act content. Why did I feel like I didn't have a choice but to hide everything and not let anyone hear my voice? Because I was so afraid of being imperfect and thought that because I was sad I was somehow incorrect. So here's to all of you out there who are trying to fight back your despair. You have a right to feel the way you do so get the help you need, and let yourself shine through.
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Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
An Ode to Sadness
secondary vices were always compromises to the original morality you sought. somewhere in the pages and peer pressure and stage pressure and slave wages you forgot you wanted memories to mean something and dreams to be achieved. But now life long is long gone and you lose your steam. though I can no longer imagine it the way I fathom insatiable hunger will linger a little longer. perhaps someday I'll be stronger and I'll be able sonder more than pessimistic ponderings. Today I'll go under and asunder my imagination from fruitless creation that leaves me listless and disagreeable. If the future was foreseeable perhaps I might be more careful however knowing the complete anthology of my defeat would never push me forward. Is it fortunate I'm blind? either way I'm falling behind. C.e.M. September 13. 2015
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Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
Searching....
an all in row took place the boys were casting peppery mace in each others face Mrs Dunstan saw the boys employing their barbing toys she told them not to be held hostage to such disagreeable ploys after they spent some time in the time out zone they came to realize that rowing only brings bruising to the bones
0
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
Bruising
I have never met someone so incredibly irritating. She is disagreeable, and argumentative, and stubborn, and impossible to please. When I told her I love her lips she got angry that I focus only on her beauty. I told her that I did not only mean that they look kissable, and God, you know they do, but I love the words emitted from them when she screams at some misogynist ******* whistling at her from the slightly rolled down window of his car. She complained that I should be yelling too. I could propose with all of Saturn's rings and she would complain that they are secondhand. You ask her about love, she'll tell you about heartbreak. As would I. But maybe we all would. Maybe we are all sitting starry-eyed staring at the ground waiting for the wrong person to put us upright, maybe there is no right. Maybe she is right. Maybe Saturn's rings hang too heavy on her heartbeat, maybe all I need is to be a string wrapped around her finger while I've been tied around her neck like a noose. Maybe she'll cut herself loose.
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
this was meant to be a love poem
But do you know , he said as if it was the wind through my hair or the cold on my cheek. How could I know, I thought. How could I know that death kisses like a ********** lips laced with ******* How could I know that darkness is such a sweet seductress who suckles the broken with her baring ******* No one ever stopped to educate the youth. They threw books at our heads and like a mighty god playing the role of a very disagreeable child... nobody told us that porcelain hits the ground with the same sensual satisfaction of a broken man, painting the walls red with a white eyed glaze and a bullet in his brains. Death becomes him, and he will wear it like a king. Long lives the ******* king, but I never truly knew.
0
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
But do you know...
A1 Retreat an act or process of withdrawing especially from what is difficult, dangerous, or disagreeable (Merriam-Webster) A physical withdrawal dissatisfies you. No one sees      where I go      where I am Urges to escape the silent threats      leaves me lonlely      leaves you desperate Our silence screams Safety
0
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
Dichotomies: A series
The hate in my soul The hate in my soul Is covered up by the face that you know So when you see my laugh and you think I'm fine Know for a fact that inside I'm dieing
0
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
magraw institute for the socially disagreeable (facade bulding 101)
Ocean skies In your eyes Reflected upside down Me, a clown Big red nose Pacing the rows Counting up all the things Make my soul sting Do you like me or are you just desperate? Maybe a little of both. Can you keep this oath? Only if Art agrees.
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Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
Disagreeable Art
the gang worked assiduously on ridding their so called domain of those who'd not tow the line or be compliant with their refrain they expended much energy more especially the two in charge the methods they employed had the characteristics of a barge pushing out others so they'd obtain all the popularity hits could be said they were lower than nine hundred feet pits   they're now ever so contended with a job that was well executed sitting back feeling so satisfied smugness in what's been prosecuted it is supposed that they'll keep toiling for supremacy's edge whilst at the same time driving a very disagreeable wedge
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Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 6:31 PM UTC
Disagreeable Wedge
I was at dinner once, and I really liked how my fork looked, so I wanted to take a picture of it. I was so proud of myself trying to center that fork in camera’s frame, proud of my ability to recognize something that I wanted for myself, and proud of my ability to do something about it, to literally capture what I wanted in my hand. Then my friend leaned over from her side of the table and asked if I was taking a picture of the meal, and I said I wasn’t. She told me you should, since what I ordered just looked so appetizing. I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, and she meant well by it, so I put down my fork and aimed at the plate. Then my other friend beside me who happened to be in the frame leaned in to be featured in my picture, saying with a friendly voice that I should get him in it too. I just wanted a picture of the food, but I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, so I readjusted the camera to include my friend. When I did that, my other friends sitting beside me must’ve thought that I was inviting them, because a few of them began to lean in towards my friend that was leaning towards the food, one of them laughing that I should tag them if I post this. By this point I was trying to capture more than what I had wanted, but I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, so to make room for everyone in the picture, I stood up and leaned back. That movement on my part must’ve meant something important to the rest of the table, because soon they all agreed that I should take a group picture and began arranging themselves for it. Turning away from the plate now to an entirely new subject, one of my friends asked a waiter if he could take our picture, since I should be in it too. I didn’t want to bother the busy worker, and in all honesty I just wanted to go back to eating, but I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, so I handed my phone to the waiter and met my friends on the other side of the table. Posing for my own picture, I caught a glimpse of that fork that I had first found so interesting, and looking back at it, I think I blinked when the flash blinded me.
0
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 9:05 PM UTC
you should
I was at dinner once, and I really liked how my fork looked, so I wanted to take a picture of it. I was so proud of myself trying to center that fork in camera’s frame, proud of my ability to recognize something that I wanted for myself, and proud of my ability to do something about it, to literally capture what I wanted in my hand. Then my friend leaned over from her side of the table and asked if I was taking a picture of the meal, and I said I wasn’t. She told me you should, since what I ordered just looked so appetizing. I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, and she meant well by it, so I put down my fork and aimed at the plate. Then my other friend beside me who happened to be in the frame leaned in to be featured in my picture, saying with a friendly voice that I should get him in it too. I just wanted a picture of the food, but I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, so I readjusted the camera to include my friend. When I did that, my other friends sitting beside me must’ve thought that I was inviting them, because a few of them began to lean in towards my friend that was leaning towards the food, one of them laughing that I should tag them if I post this. By this point I was trying to capture more than what I had wanted, but I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, so to make room for everyone in the picture, I stood up and leaned back. That movement on my part must’ve meant something important to the rest of the table, because soon they all agreed that I should take a group picture and began arranging themselves for it. Turning away from the plate now to an entirely new subject, one of my friends asked a waiter if he could take our picture, since I should be in it too. I didn’t want to bother the busy worker, and in all honesty I just wanted to go back to eating, but I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, so I handed my phone to the waiter and met my friends on the other side of the table. Posing for my own picture, I caught a glimpse of that fork that I had first found so interesting, and looking back at it, I think I blinked when the flash blinded me.
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7
I have fried chicken coming and then these things and then these things say it with me these things hap hap n reductionist has too many letters sublime has that onerous bluh i know you agree disagreeable know a catechism undone and saints abandon are won against nods of I project knowing sowing not ho-ing syllables of see-me give me a break
0
Mar 26, 2023
Mar 26, 2023 at 11:10 PM UTC
Nake
Oh, poor lonely girl You spent your years dreaming and evaporated all your friends away You saw the others dancing like puppets with God yanking the strings Your world was in your head, not on your feet No one could see inside your benign imagination Held your breath in the presence of others Stood up straight to avoid being disagreeable Cried the fool to silence the demons Wrote yourself out of other peoples futures with a happy, shiny ending Dived underwater to be a mermaid while others blew bubble in shallow rock pools. You drove nails through your ankles and wrists to save others from yourself Poor lonesome, lost, artless child perpetually pendulating toddling and falling into the washing machines on spin cycle that is other peoples lives. They traumatize you like ominous spinning tops. Lost, lovely child You have imagined a storm, when it is all just tepid, still, innocent water. Nonetheless, you continue to drown.
0
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
Missing Child
My face is bland, quite forgettable actually. The people I pass on the street don't remember me. If I stole their purse, or wallet they wouldn't be able to pick me out of a line-up, But you notice me in a crowd from a mile away. My voice is disagreeable, it's quite nasally if I'm honest. I can't sing and my solo's in the school play were always taken away and given to someone else. But you let me serenade you and tell me how soft my voice sounds as you fall asleep I am socially inept, I'm quite awkward really. I tell puny jokes that are greeted with side long glances and silence But you always laugh and ask for another. I'm a bad lover, I'm quite aloof if the truth be told. I hold my cards close to my chest and try my best to shut everyone out. But you look into my eyes and tell me I made it easy for you to fall in love. To everyone else I am forgettable, and awkward, and aloof. But to you I am memorable, comfortable, and honest. I've tried too hard to be something to everyone when really, all I ever needed to be was everything to someone.
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Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
Everything to Someone
in the muddied waters where corpses float the moon shimmers on the lazy surface of a tired stream, gliding on it with the ease meant for those that dream during sunny days and those that ravage the stormy nights but how can I pursue my joy when it runs from me I gallop on the coast of life yet coasting on its slide contradicting myself in every way I see the eyes of my estranged breeze as she jovially brushes the branches of trees as she makes once lifeless leaves fly as she caresses each cheek only mine remains unkissed and yet she flows on leaving me behind so I ignore her never asking for readmittance back into her torrential storms to suffer with glee the hailstones of her affection instead I built myself a shelter and hid myself from her gloried love in an oakened parlour where a private man sits his brows furrow face hardened by the whips of life his calloused hands stay steady as his breath shallows eyes scan the room searching for her needing her presence here in his last hour as he sits in his prison a castle devoted to him vacuumed of all air his heart beats slower eyes scan the room searching for her needing her presence here in his last hour his glance rests at the tinted window and he is able to peer outside and see his breeze still rustling about with disagreeable fellows those not worthy of her touch he would break down those doors gladly to dance once more in the rain instead, I sit, a private man alone, with no companion watching my breeze engulf the world with her dance the shimmering wisps of autumn's hair rays of sun like spears in the air piercing through flesh and soul arrows of Eros doing their duty and all around my castle of isolation lay everyone blissfully torn by the steel of love breathless, while I still breathe my breeze neglects me for I was not worthy I did not rise to meet her challenge I refused to adhere to her demand her demand that… simply… I must love her.
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Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 4:51 PM UTC
A Private Man
in the muddied waters where corpses float the moon shimmers on the lazy surface of a tired stream, gliding on it with the ease meant for those that dream during sunny days and those that ravage the stormy nights but how can I pursue my joy when it runs from me I gallop on the coast of life yet coasting on its slide contradicting myself in every way I see the eyes of my estranged breeze as she jovially brushes the branches of trees as she makes once lifeless leaves fly as she caresses each cheek only mine remains unkissed and yet she flows on leaving me behind so I ignore her never asking for readmittance back into her torrential storms to suffer with glee the hailstones of her affection instead I built myself a shelter and hid myself from her gloried love in an oakened parlour where a private man sits his brows furrow face hardened by the whips of life his calloused hands stay steady as his breath shallows eyes scan the room searching for her needing her presence here in his last hour as he sits in his prison a castle devoted to him vacuumed of all air his heart beats slower eyes scan the room searching for her needing her presence here in his last hour his glance rests at the tinted window and he is able to peer outside and see his breeze still rustling about with disagreeable fellows those not worthy of her touch he would break down those doors gladly to dance once more in the rain instead, I sit, a private man alone, with no companion watching my breeze engulf the world with her dance the shimmering wisps of autumn's hair rays of sun like spears in the air piercing through flesh and soul arrows of Eros doing their duty and all around my castle of isolation lay everyone blissfully torn by the steel of love breathless, while I still breathe my breeze neglects me for I was not worthy I did not rise to meet her challenge I refused to adhere to her demand her demand that… simply… I must love her.
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84
I wish you would put your colonialism into me Political correctness be ****** Flood my country with your spiced milk and suffocate in sticky heat every sentiment which is disagreeable to your southern sensibilities So that our two societies might be of one mind and enter into unbreakable alliance.
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Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
I wish