"disgust" poems
I remember the first time someone explained to me what the word gay meant.
We were in middle school
Playing on the swing set behind Stoy Elementary
"He’s so gay," she said
Bitter disgust poured out of her mouth with every syllable
I could not think as to why being happy could be such a horrible thing
And so I asked
My exact words being
“Whats so wrong with being happy?”
Now both my friends looked at me weird
“Don’t you know what gay means?”
“Doesn’t it mean to be happy?”
“You’re such a little kid, gay does not mean happy. Gay is a boy who likes another boy”
I stood there wondering why it mattered so much that a boy liked another boy;
why it was such a distasteful thing.
And why it meant gay couldn’t still mean happy.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
I wish I could be as vibrant and bold as a sunflower
Wish my petals could stretch towards the sun
in hopes of growing. I wish these pale painted
faces would stare in awh instead of disgust.
I wish I was as yellow as a sunflower
or maybe an oddly pink tone fleshed with red
I want my color to be praised not discussed
like dirt being picked out of fingers
I have come to the realization that I am a sunflower
Beautiful, bold, and magical
My brown petals stretch out from limb to limb
meeting at my bud with a smile so dazzling
and eyes small but fill with love and hope.
I am a sunflower in the boldest of ways possible
like coffee with no sugar no cream. I am loved like Jupiter
loves Juno, My brightness is appreciated like a full moon
at 12 midnight. I could fill a whole field with my petals
just for your grazing but you don't deserve it.
I am a sunflower. What are you?
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 8:57 PM UTC
"i'm watching you, stupid ***** Madison pointed at pyper as the girls made there way out of the dining room. "thats enough madison." Cordelia scolded. Nan followed pyper up the stairs into her bedroom. "why are you following me?" pyper asked, looking at nan in disgust. rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "you have madisons money." nan crossed her arms and smiled. "excuse me??" pyper replied as if she were offended by Nans accusation. "mhm, and you have zoeys sunglasses.., cassies ipod, and 25 dollars you stole from emilys purse. along with her art pencils." nan replied. "wow, you're A cleptomaniac." Nan laughed. "okay, how do you know all of this???" Pyper asked, her cheeks red from embarissment, and her head lowered in shame. "i'm psychic. i can read minds." nan explained. suddenly cassie walked past pypers room in search of her stolen ipod. "has anyone seen my pink ipod???" Cassie questioned, it was sitting on my bed, and now i can't find it anywhere. " she looked around hopelessly. "well then look in your room cassie. give me 5 minutes and i'll help you look." pyper shouted. "wow, you're a real piece of work arent you?" nan rolled her eyes and chuckled. "what is your angle, nan?" Pyper questioned, rolling her eyes aswell. saying names name as if she were mocking the whole idea of her. "my angle, PYPER. is this, you give everyone there **** back or i'm telling cordelia and you're out of here." Nan smerked. "you're not going to tell on me anyway?" pyper asked sadly. "no, not onless you do it again." nan sighed, "we stick together here, we're a family, we don't steele eachother down thats not what we're about." nan explained sympatheticly. "wow, thats funny because that's all my real family ever did." pyper replied with big sad puppy dog eyes. nan nodded, "i'm not here to listen to your ******** excuses or your sob stories. if saying that you've had a hard life, and never had anything given to you. and the world owes you. helps you get to sleep at night then fine, cool beans. but i'm not buying that shit. and these girls don't owe you anything. now, i expect everyone to have there **** back by the morning, or i will tell cordelia." nan sighed and rolled her eyes. "okay." pyper nodded with a wounded look upon her face. Cassie stood outside of the door, still listening. her eyebrows raised in anger. and then made her way up the stairs and into madisons room. "what are you doing here pipsquick. im NOT in the mood." Madison sobbed. "oh i think you're in the mood for this, i know who took your money." Cassie smiled.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
Sometimes, I am in love with myself.
I force them to witness my love for my melanin
because they would love for me to hate my melanin.
I know that I am seen, but I want to be heard,
The first amendment allows me to speak, but they refused to hear a word-
that comes from my mouth.
My lips stereotyped as too black.
My diction too proper to act like this,
yet my slang is too ghetto to act like that...
Sometimes, I wonder what it's like to be white.
I hate being stared at when I speak in Spanish.
I never know if it's in disgust or in comfort,
because the sound of the double "r" rolling off of my tongue
sounds like the ricochet of the bullets they fire from their guns.
Since they no longer can enslave us like animals, they slaughter us
because, "if I can't have you no one can."
I refuse to be put down.
I refuse to shutdown.
My brown skin threatens,
and you all should be afraid.
Because I will banish your negativity with my Latin American flow,
speaking in Spanish with the Bachata tempo filling my veins.
My Ebonics is iconic,
and I refuse to be put in a box when the world is a sphere.
I... am more... than this.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
I remember the first time someone explained to me what the word gay meant.
We were in middle school
Playing on the swing set behind Stoy Elementary
"He’s so gay," she said
Bitter disgust poured out of her mouth with every syllable
I could not think as to why being happy could be such a horrible thing
And so I asked
My exact words being
“Whats so wrong with being happy?”
Now both my friends looked at me weird
“Don’t you know what gay means?”
“Doesn’t it mean to be happy?”
“You’re such a little kid, gay does not mean happy. Gay is a boy who likes another boy”
I stood there wondering why it mattered so much that a boy liked another boy;
why it was such a distasteful thing.
And why it meant gay couldn’t still mean happy.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
Van Gogh cut off his ear
gave it to a
**********
who flung it away in
extreme
disgust.
Van, ****** don't want
ears
they want
money.
I guess that's why you were
such a great
painter: you
didn't understand
much
else.
24.2k
i had a thought.
i ran out of my room,
down the hallway,
and into the bathroom.
i wriggled out of my worn down, tie dye shirt.
hopping up and down as i pull off my
high-waisted jeans, pulling my pant leg with my foot as i
trample the dark denim to the ground.
i stand there naked, in front of the
harsh, full length mirror.
combing my fingers through my natural, wavy hair.
i contort my face in disgust, cocking
my head slightly to the side.
i close my eyes, and take one deep breath in.
when i open my eyes,
the reflection staring back at me is a thin, natural
beauty.
Her smooth ivory skin glows in the
silvery reflective glass.
Her stomach is flat and toned.
Her ******* lay on Her chest in perfect
proportion to the rest of her petite frame.
i run my fingers down the sides of my body.
my palms trailing along, dipping and
rising with the mounds beneath my skin.
i close my eyes and open them again,
this time taking my reflection for
what it really is.
i am fat.
my skin is pink and spotted with freckles the
colour of blood.
my stomach hangs low, covering the part
a man should see when i'm naked.
my ******* are big.
but not in the way you'd like them to be.
they lay there, sort of lop-sided.
hanging just above my ribs. Another place for
fat to take over.
the cuts on my thighs are hardly noticable
next to
all
that
fat
i can see tears in the eyes of the reflection staring back at me,
but i am numb.
i thought correctly. i am
fat. i am ugly.
Nobody in their right mind would want to
love me.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 6:18 PM UTC
You can’t have your cake and eat it too. Not for long, anyway. Cake doesn’t settle well when it’s all you’ve had to eat. It’ll churn like butter inside you, and creep up your throat to project like a cannon, barreling through a wall. Cake won’t sit right with you anymore. At the mere mention of cake, your insides will crawl with disgust and an association of icing will replace your taste buds with ***** You will never be able to enjoy cake—at parties, as a delicacy, with ice cream—because you got greedy and wanted to eat your cake first rather than save it for such an occasion. Now all the different kinds of cake you fantasized about trying—black velvet, coffee cake, buttercream pound cake—will only be a reminder of your pitfall that led you to make yourself sick with desire, for cake. You can’t get the icing off your tongue, the smell of batter baking has festered in your nostrils wired to the pungent taste of red from between your teeth. But it’s all you can think of when you’ve been wronged by your favorite dessert. What sort of chemical reaction in the bowels of your stomach caused all of this sorrow? What rejected the cake? Your body has a way of telling you things—we should listen more. Cake is not sustenance, it has no value as a nutritious food. It doesn’t help, only hurts.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
She saw how the angry, greyish ocean
crashed upon the shore
with such fury and disgust
and couldn't help but compare it
to the endless nights where
she'd sit and stare at that
hateful, taunting piece of glass
with a reflection as grotesque
as the image of the waves
while they aimed to devour the coastline.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
This pain in my chest,
The feeling of disgust,
I have it all the time.
I cant sleep,
Paranoia the whole night,
I cant have friends,
Or a life.
Im too insane,
and too unworthy.
j.b
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
Let me apologize, to begin with because of my body type.
I will NEVER be good enough for anyone to date due to current 'hype.'
You know, the battle of 'bones' vs curves?
Just let me inflate myself to the right number so I can properly serve
As the perfect specimen for your delicate eyes.
Obviously no one is good enough unless they've got decent thighs.
But just wait a god **** minute, because here I am again:
So let me apologize, to begin with, if I offend
You or your friends who think they're too good
To date someone size zero with some extra love under the hood.
How many times have I heard you exclaim in disgust
Of how large she is and how you'd drown in her,
If you even got near her? I saw you shaking in fear.
From your head to your toes, you were trembling dear.
See I'm told to eat less and maybe, just maybe
But if I was skinny, and let's tell the truth,
You'd be so disgusted by my looks .
I could eat a salad and still gain a pound ,
She could eat a salad and the crunch is the only sound
You hear a mile away and yet you would assume
That burgers and French fries is all that she consumed.
Do you ever stop to think, ladies and gents?
The true beauty of someone isn't based on the number on their pants.
So, let me apologize, to begin with,
If I bruise your massive ego,
But the way to tell if she's the perfect woman is not by your libido
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:12 AM UTC
I'm not sure how to wear self confidence
but I do know how many calories are in every food I consume
And my heart may be bottomless
but my make up seems to claim my entire room
And my mirror may be shattered with disgust and desperation
but at least my closets are full of Gucci, Prada, and Dior
And maybe I can be happy with lonely isolation
Gives me more time for the materials I adore
And you might as well chain me to my shopping bag
That are filled with platinum, silver, and gold
Cause I will make up for the soul I lack
With the plastics, metals, and materials cold
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 10:51 PM UTC
In her pretty brown eyes
You could see it
Even with that dainty smile
Her happiness
Vanished
She saw
The disgust
As she looked in the mirror
The hatred
Took over
Her self-love
The pain
Changed
Her mindset
Now
She had sleepless nights full of hopes and dreams
Where
Her tear stained cheeks hit the pillow
She was troubled
Her only wish
Was
Becoming an aura that made people think of the color yellow
She remembers when
If anyone asked
She would’ve said
“I’m used to it.”
Now read from bottom to top.
Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 1:29 AM UTC
Spa D is on fire
Administration is a liar
Student body has a desire
Let's fulfill our needs before we expire
You think your threats can stop us
I'm sure we didn't want to make a fuss
What makes you be at a nonplus
Let us know when you are ready to discuss
For how long will you bluff?
Don't you think it's enough?
We've suffered enough over the years
We have overcome all our fears
Don't light up the fire with our tears
You better stop playing with our careers
All that we ask for is some trust
But you left us all in utter disgust
Spa D is on fire
Administration is a liar
Student body has a desire
Let's fulfill our needs before we expire
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
Biodiversity, an abstract term used in natural science,
Meaning diversity of life in a diversity of places.
Tonight I really feel all the compliance,
With this term occuring in my life in so many cases.
I have both positive and negative associations,
If I relate biodiversity to my own life.
It kind of explains all the complications,
On the road to when and where I thrive.
When I look at myself in the mirror,
I see the diversity in my face.
Both soft like a mother and severe like an emperor,
And my hair looks like it's from another race.
It is curly and it is dark,
While my skin is quite pale.
Blue eyes which sometimes brightly spark,
But other times greyish and frail.
Some moments I feel hyper,
like I'm going to explode.
I talk, walk, jump and stir,
and my brain says 'overload'.
Other moments however I feel calm and peace,
I lay down just quietly watch the sun.
Concentrated on every breath I release,
A warm ambiance like that of a mum.
Some mornings I feel like I'm the sexiest girl on the planet,
I take a red dress and let it slip over my hips.
Walk on 15 cm heels like my feet are made of granite,
And merely hope to use my red coated lips.
Other times even my jogging pants don't seem to fit,
I feel like the uggliest girl in town and only see disgust.
I watch useless YouTube videos infinite,
Because everything else feels like a must.
I can go on with this poem for a long time,
But it makes no sense.
It is just that with this rhyme,
I put on paper the doubts, thoughts and experience.
The biodiversity in me,
I like it and I do not.
But what I more and more see,
Is a swarm of different butterflies rather than an intwined knot.
Life is so **** special,
Intense and deeply exciting.
I think it is crucial,
Not to do too much hiding.
Enjoy the biodiversity in yourself,
Like a beautiful forest on a hill.
So many different species,
Crowded, changing and intertwined, but together, still.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
Depression.
One word.
Pretty easy to say.
But what you don’t know
Is that it controls my day.
The sun rises as I go to get out of bed
yet depression whispers “You’d be better off dead.”
But I push through those words and I make it to class
when it comes to concentration, depression kicks me in the ***
So I go to eat lunch, but nothing looks appetizing
depression smiles at me and asks if that’s surprising
Another class, let’s see how this one goes
Will I pass this test? Only depression really knows
Cause last night when I went home and tried to study
depression was surely there, my only buddy
And although I tried to do my absolute best
depression said, “I think we’ll fail this test.”
My teachers look at me in absolute disgust
I try to tell the truth, but depression doesn’t let me trust
So instead I say I’m sick, a cold or maybe the flu
But I’m sick inside my head, and depression proves that true
You can’t expect them to understand the pain and the sorrow
This depression is unique to me, you’d only know if my mind you could borrow
But back to my daily routine, I didn’t mean to digress
sometimes my thoughts start racing, depression never lets me rest
Which leads me to sleep, for some the best part of the night
Dear depression, will you let me sleep? Maybe, I just might
Then I look at the clock and it’s almost four in the morning
Depression, why are you doing this? In my mind it’s nearly storming
For most are in their beds, cuddled up all snug and tight
But depression sowed up early this morning, so I have to be ready to fight
Some have called me strong, but that is not how I feel
for depression clouds my head, and I’m not sure what’s real
And there it is again, the sun has stared to rise
I’ve made it through another day, to depression, that’s a surprise.
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Numb
to not feel
to not feel, pain
or anything else.
being numb does not mean unable to notice
it does not mean, unable to pretend.
I know numbness.
long ago in a hospital,
it was pumped into my veins
and I learned.
Numbness,
will ease pain.
but now I am stuck
trapped in this place
where I pump myself full of metaphysical numbness
At the point I reside,
the only thing I feel
is physical.
I know the warmth of your hand when you hold mine tightly
I know the softness of her skin
and I know if I am injured.
One day,
one desperate day when I was alone against everything...
I released some of my rusted life from my arm.
and as the warmth dripped away...
I felt it.
a small spark inside
not happiness...
but a tear in my left eye.
My fears, not gone
but released,
the things I guarded so close,
brought to the light.
I remember a day
a long time ago...
in a hospital room I wondered.
which, is better?
To die filled with pain and fast,
or to be pumped full of artificial numbness, and have it last?
Numbness.
no word makes me sicker
not in disgust, but in a pit.
I am terrified of numbness,
and so I ask of anyone who will listen to my dying heart
please
DON'T let me die numb.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Disgust toward the police.
Disgust toward the school system.
Disgust toward the students.
Disgust toward the government.
Disgust toward the citizens.
Disgust toward my family.
Disgust toward myself.
Disgust toward the ACT.
Disgust toward state tests.
Disgust toward society.
Disgust toward impossible standards.
Disgust toward the hypocritical people.
Disgusted by the violence.
Disgusted by the killing.
Disgusted by the inequality.
Disgust toward this nation.
Disgusted by how we treat each other.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
Here I am staring in the mirror
Looking at what couldn't be clearer
I feel disgust and anger when I look
But I was thinking a bullet was all it took
To end a long life time of pain and sorrow
Maybe there would be no tomorrow
...At least for me that is.....
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
the mirror that whispers,
the mirror that shouts,
words of hate
and torture
and spout.
the lies it speaks
are of disgust.
the thoughts it creates
turns 'should stop eating'
to a 'must'.
the mirrors lies are tempting
to try,
but a forewarning ;
the lies will control you,
and they will eat you alive.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 11:52 PM UTC
The tide collects it all by morning;
The drama and the ***** napalmed across the path.
The scenes at second warning for most had been swept away
Before they wiped the sand from their shoes.
Empty cans of Dutch and Tuborg slouched on the dunes
Are tight-lipped about the Velvet Strand's secret ecosystem;
An underground microcosm;
A peripheral cluster of seething emotions drowned.
Memories of those years - although some expired,
The vestiges take pride of place - hold a cosmic clump of smells,
Tastes, firsts, goosebumps, hangovers, and ends.
I never before understood what I was holding on to.
Winters down in the shelters nearly killed us but we
Huddled through the cold, lit cheap firelogs and
Found our oblivion. It didn't take much for me to develop
A stagger - tolerance for a lot of things was learned later.
I narrowly recall my first taste of poor judgement and
Hazy-headed stargazing. Six cans of Stonehouse
Dry cider - most of which ended up on the hillside -
Was a ridiculous endeavour that will always be sublime.
At the heart of it, I did it to impress a girl;
The one every boy has or has had that sticks;
Who holds your firsts and your hands and makes
Things simple if only for her complexity;
The one that never fails to bring upon digression when
Pens are involved. Revisiting reminiscence on a jarring note,
I think of my Junior Cert exams and a cross-dressed man
Exposing himself to two uniformed boys behind the public toilets.
This one doesn't stir the joy of the others.
This one I wish would dissolve;
An ugly, awkward blotch on a childhood.
Luckily fondness trumps disgust when recalling that place
Because of sunrises and sunsets absorbed from the roof.
The Summers spent jumping the gap and drowning in the
Heat of the sun were everything.
The fugitive sand between our toes and under finger nails
Became an accepted nuisance, a part of the territory;
A lingering grain or two to drag you back.
I miss waking up with the smell of last night's faded fire.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
Those who lash out when the heart speaks
avoid the many mirrors reflecting themselves
For in this rippled dream,
where perfect does exist
and mistakes are long gone like a Milli Vanilli song,
they fail to see that we are all human…
errors come with the package (batteries not included)
Sidewalk footprints, back and forth
pacing past the entrance to that world
where words have no meaning,
regardless of how they are spoken (or written)
Self-absorbed deeply in the waves
of that ocean tide of fantasy
crashing in white foam feelings, disappearing by sunset
What is it that makes us who we are…
our smile, our fingers, our brand of cigarettes
shipped in plain brown envelopes,
our thoughts, our dreams, the poetry we write
when we need to get it out…good or bad
When lack of judgment drips from the skylight
illuminating courage to do what we shouldn’t (even in darkness)
Wrong, I was wrong…regret, more than I could have known
I have looked in this mirror, then I looked away quickly,
Ashamed of that face, fell three stories below my heart
slipped on the disgust splattered at my feet (by me)
sunk up to my knees…bent, folding, scraped and bruised
but I require no sympathy, for I am not that devil Jagger sings of…
at least I hope not…please allow me to introduce myself…I am sorry
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
My my, what a special little snowflake.
Why did you choose to be this way?
You chose to be different, you chose to rebel.
No binary for me!
You chose the grief, the pain.
You chose this abuse, bruised by
the verbal ferociousness, forged by physical fallacies
To be thrown out of bathrooms
because doing your business in the bathroom is abysmal.
You chose to be derided by decisive discrimination.
You chose to be murdered by misconceptions,
***** by ridiculous requirements.
You chose to be beaten, assaulted.
You chose the words I weave to weaken your will.
You chose the sacred sermons I spit at you.
You chose to be
What I find disgusting, despicable
because you chose to be what you aren't,
but I realize what I really regard you to be.
My my, what a special little bigot.
You think I chose to be this way?
You think
I chose the injuring, injustice,
the jester, the joke
the target, tortured,
This pain, my poison,
the prey, praying,
the sinner of sins so bittersweet,
So I could be "special"?
Special isn't a sacrifice of physical self
Nor the gunshots and gruesome grief
Nor even the crass comfort of a half-assed comrade.
You think I CHOSE this,
and you didn't choose
to spit and spew your sour speeches
to disperse your disgust in discrimination
to integrate your ignorance into my existence.
Or did you not choose
to deal the abuse
by your hand
yourself?
My special little bigot,
You live as you are.
So be it, if I am so "special", the special little snowflake.
Yes, we are the little snowflakes that your palm's presence melts away,
And you're that burning persistence of life
Blocking with your own self our slow, wistful descent,
As if it were futility and not of your own will.
If I am the snowflake, you are the fire.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
Everyone comes with scars,
But you can love them away.
I told you that I wasn't perfect,
You told me the same
'You don't get it, I-"
'Shh, I love you, imperfections and all',
You said
But a month later,
Everything changed
You looked at me with disgust-
Like I was **** on legs
'I'm breaking up with you',
You said
'Why', I asked
'You're not perfect, I don't love you'
Hysterical sobs, at the loss of-
What I thought was love
'But I love you!',
I screamed at the closed door,
For you walked out on me
Your previous words meant nothing
I'm not worth loving, why?
The cuts on my thighs?
My eyes full of hurt?
My mouth full of lies?
The pain you caused,
Hurt more than the fresh cuts-
I just made
These were dedicated to you
Etched into my skin,
The perfect reminder of the pain you caused
'I love you' it said,
Used my blood to make-
a small heart on my tear-stained cheek
Then I slashed both wrists
They were dedicated to you
I love you
Hours later, remembering something-
You left
Found me lying there,
With the note cut into my hand,
'I love you' it said
The perfect reminder of the pain you caused
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 9:02 AM UTC