"ditsy" poems
Red, edifying & ditsy,
Wine illuminated names -- eclectic,
& gypsy. Yippee persons; So yawned
Night. I gathered her, too
Tipsy, I paused & smoked young
Faith, aimed it too high
And next dared
The hour escape.
Oscar sounded clear and round.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
I knocked my knee on the rod under the table.
I put a runner in my tights.
I licked my finger to wash the wound clean.
It stung for only a second.
Then it was as if it never happened.
The ditsy waitress with the blonde bun and bubblegum
was annoying me with the way she wouldn't pick up her feet.
She had a stupid Chinese tattoo on her wrist,
and like most of the world
she thought she could use a band aid as a cover up,
but nothing that obvious stays hidden that long
without being noticed.
And to top it all off, they burnt my tuna melt.
I got weird looks from people who passed,
catching the 50 Shades of Grey title on my book,
disgusted and pondering why
I would ever hold it up in a family restaurant.
The black man was eyeing me up in the corner.
The lady with the pink lipstick in her teeth thought I was erratic and disturbed.
The businessman thought it was merely for attention,
Well
jokes on them,
I did it just to **** them off.
That's when I looked over at you,
You were eating breakfast and a ****** cup of coffee.
It was 4 in the afternoon.
I could see your Captain America underpants
creeping out of your jeans without a belt.
I could see your eyes judging the newspaper headlines.
You seemed almost as unhappy as me.
So I went over and asked if you dropped the pen
I found in my pocket,
and when you didn't even look up at me to respond
I told you it was just a poor excuse to talk to you.
"I respect that,"
you said between bites of your omelet.
You glanced up at me for only a moment,
blue eyes, **** chin
probably expecting me to leave after the prolonged silence,
but I sat there unchanged,
I don't really pick up on social cues.
"You're pretty hot."
I guess neither do you.
I smiled something creepy, because I don't do it that often,
You didn't seem to mind.
Within two minutes you had me laughing,
saying stuff too loud,
and it was the first time
that I think I actually saw myself,
and I don't really even know you
but somehow, insanely
it feels like I already do.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
she dresses down during the day,
a pair of swearpants and an oversized flannel,
her soft, curly locks bouncing in a high ponytail.
she's seen as the class hippie, an activist and a seemingly air headed girl.
but what people don't know, is that
this girl is the top of her class.
she's a ditsy, fun girl
by day,
and a baby in lace for her lover
by night.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 8:49 AM UTC
the desperado cowboy-poet awakes
anxious, needing-ending relief,
the craving greater than great,
he begs-raggedly, with Raggedy handily Andy words,
to all and anyone in the aroused surrounded vicinity,
give please give, of something to write
the bay, soothingly plays the would-be author,
"place me, look my way,
have I not droplets endless
from which you've drunk exquisitely,
so many more to fair share"
the birds twit and flit,
raucous caucus demanding
to be seated
by the tablet's keypad
to gain entry
to one more congressional natural tribute
the sky and sun organize a
joint session, extraordinary mission;
"we are the first of your day,
thus primarily,
we win the primary,
deserving in your recording of our
nomination as the first day's
sound and light show victorious"
sorry folks,
got a better tale to tell,
natural in its way,
titillating, and quite suitable
for reputating Au Naturel humanity
and it's a quirky, say hey tale,
morning coffee fresh,
a first word report from an
untelivised convention
of a different kind of congressing
awoke to find the:
*chauffeur in bed with the cook,
the Poppy, beside the sleeping Nana,
the poet, eyeing the lying next to him, tango dancer,
the classicist eyeing the sleeping moderne,
ditty ditsy Ogden Nash astride a Shakesperian sonnet,
the thinning gray line defending his bedded half,
from an invading horde of unionizing blonde tresses,
the republican with the democrat,
the conservative with the liberal,
heated discussions, non-neutralizing negotiations
conducting and watched by
peeping tom skies, clouds, birds and waters
pretending to fly flow past*
wow
now that,
is quite interesting
deserving worthy of a
disrobing disputatious disreputation,
very newsworthy and why not,
a poem all its own?
the bay waved goodbye,
the birds disbanded in silence,
quietly disenfranchised.
the sun and the sky hung around
pretending to be UN neutrality observers
wearing cute blue and white helmets
looking every where but not,
at the line of demarcation
the beggar, by his new impoverishment, enriched,
another love poem writ,
niched and pitched
one more itch,
so very well scratched
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
ANAL-RETENTIVE
(Pea-Brains & Fecal-Matters)
There’s obvious precautions
For a ditsy-twerk’s ‘bottoming’
Cleanliness is the foremost-thing
Fore & aft, as a sailor might put-it
Don’t put that ****** away, just yet
When the Fleets in & the play’s the
thing, be smart & cautionary & clean
May end-up with a nasty sphincter
Where anyone would rather-not like
to sit upon, either, ever, & never
An oz. of precaution is worth a lb.
of cure & the cure might-be a worst
disaster than ever it’s antidote
— Ray Laccetti
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 9:56 AM UTC
I guess it's the end of my need for some ****
I guess all I got is thid lsd
Gee,
but really what care,
I'm not even hear
teleport to the couch,
met a pink bear,
he ate all my hair,
**** In my eye he cussed not to cry,
MR BEAR!
mr bear
you think I wont trip?
one hell of a fry,
YOU **** IN MY EYE!
back to the room bad trip oh woah doom,
hit my head 'Jingle~
;oh yea and I'm single
hey mr. spider, lend me your lighter
back in an hour,
I thaught you died in the shower?.
itsy? bitsy? ,
I'm just rather ditsy..
wait why am i wet?.......................
all for one bet,
;)_ jesse mckush
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
Miss Yon said,
Relax and just let it all out,
don't worry edit later.
Become the words on the paper,
and then it will be great.
Miss Yon Said
The fall is thick but,
winter is thicker.
In those months of thickness,
in my house,
with blurry figures and smiling faces,
I blow on a cake with sixteen candles.
Yet I do not know where I am.
A gypsy of sorts.
A house is not necessarily always a home.
And my heat is lost to a room,
with nothing to hold in it.
Should my father's home be a more suitable location?
but she loves me
Should my mother’s home hold more warmth?
but he loves me
To some their homes are like the sun providing comfort and warmth.
But to others like me,
our home is but an iceberg,
melting.
m
e
l
t
i
n
g
gone.
You know it's not easy to read a compass lacking north.
Constantly wondering where you're headed
is not fun.
My best dish is logic,
served cold.
I wake up half dead,
or alive,
to things easily confused.
But being cold is bitter,
stiff,
I am unbreakable.
I am what I experience,
I am what I see,
I am who I speak to.
I am cold.
I am unsure.
To others who underestimate me,
I am ditsy,
I am just a blonde,
I am warm,
I am funny,
not smart.
not anything that could be valued.
not someone productive.
Identity is a crisis
and we are all in it.
This is my page for English H.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
Hello Pop,
You said you liked a good story.
I'm no good at tellen stories, coz you were always the one that told'em and I was always the one that listened but,
I got one now.
Not a nice one.
None'a that feel good **** you see on TV.
But, it's a story
and I owe you one.
It's about you,
the bits you missed,
and me:
the not so good for a so called 'good kid'.
Not that many called me that
But,
then you went and did.
Made me think I couldn't be so bad.
Yet here I am.
Throwin stone's when I've got no one to hit.
Too bored to eat or sleep, just fucken spit.
Wishen that great god gave me someone to hit.
I'm a sick girl, ya know.
That's what they tell me.
Sick compared to those straight kids -
the pride of Glory Spring.
"Glory to God!" they all fucken sing
and even me who can’t speak good
can still recite that invisible,
unbearable
ditsy
dimpled
****
He was your favourite story and everyone elses, after all.
Vicar Roy made sure of that.
Vicar Roy.
With his crinkly eyes
his toothy grin
the way he wouldn't blink when you challenged him.
God while god was hiding from the mess he made,
but God was doin’ nothen for me.
Ma saw that before you could.
She wanted me out,
She wanted me taken to a real city so they could study my head,
the way it worked.
The way my words never came
just a crooked grin.
But, even when the crayons became weapons
and the kittens went missen
The Vicar went and blessed me the same way.
Glory Spring, with its neat little rows of cottages and cabbage gardens,
so evenly cut.
Soft colours,
bright greens.
So good,
good,
good.
Then I came along.
Rabid,
urban wild
itchen for a stomach slit
goin' "Guts for you"
after "Treat or trick?"
setten haystacks on fire
tryen to find the pin
only to drop it on purpose.
Are you scared of me, Pa?
I think even God is scared of what he created.
That's why we never see him,
but I'm here now Pa.
You can't hide from me
and I gotta story of why you don't gotta no more.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
Overdose of stimuli
Parade of light in the sky
Music falls, silence
The mer-men raise their tridents
-in the air
Selene wailed, in her cot
-the velvet bare
The diamonds flown and caught.
Drop your miniature bombs
On Marys and Toms.
Like school-boys, pulling your school-girls' hair.
Flirt with death, dance a desperate dare.
Douse Hell-fire in hemlock wine.
You're blind with opium's ditsy shine.
Wake and sadly find, the stars -still 'live.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
you can't lose when there are booz,
unless you're tipsy and hella ditsy.
when yoou can't dance and your on you're old romance.
callin that man. Shit's hittin the fan.
why you a do that why don't you ***** that...
you're lookin dumm you can't have more ***
girl you've just lost you're pride
if you go hurl I'll give you a ride.
time to go home and put you to bed,
when you wake up you'll wish you were dead.
See you tommarow in the bed full of sarrow. ;[
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
Tuck into your suit and power.
Stand tall amongst dwarves.
The ditsy mistress polishes the pleather
Fake sheen, fake ****
Fake smiles, fake gits.
Cheesy grins all round,
Lap up that cheeky cheddar cheese.
Now onto desert.
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 8:13 AM UTC
Look, look
This is her tray, her tray of ash
These here... They're her empty bottles of Jack
Over there is where she keeps the condoms.
Stash of **** between the books.
If you look closely at the carpet you can see dried *****
White walls are now stained yellow,
Too many drunken gatherings.
But she's so young inside.
Mind of a ten year old
With a body of a sixteen yer old woman.
Don't look now, but she's preparing herself to talk
In her ditsy fake tone.
"I am like, so white trash. Do you love me yet?"
Twirling bleached blonde hair
pouting those lipstick drowned
And collogen inflamed lips.
Seeing this ***** in her natural habitat
Makes me wonder where her parents went wrong.
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 1:38 AM UTC
I’m annoying and you hate me.
I’m clingy and you hate me.
My hair is frizzy and you hate me.
I’m kind of ditsy and you hate me.
I’m bad at cooking and you hate me.
My clothes don’t match and you hate me.
I don’t wear makeup and you hate me.
My voice is high pitched and you hate me.
I laugh too hard at your jokes and you hate me.
I’m bad at spelling and you hate me.
I type slowly and you hate me.
I’m really weak and you hate me.
I walk too fast and you hate me.
I think too much and you hate me.
I wish I could do something right
So you wouldn’t hate me.
But I can’t
because you make my head all crazy
I can’t think right when you’re sitting next to me.
It may be that your smile is too bright when you’re sitting next to me.
Or maybe I hear nothing but your voice when you’re sitting next to me.
I see nothing but your face when you’re sitting next to me.
I smell nothing but your shampoo when you’re sitting next to me.
I can barely breathe when you’re sitting next to me.
My heart hurts when you sit next to me.
It really ***** when you sit next to me
Because I just want to blurt
“I love you you idiot.”
But sadly, so very sadly,
you hate me.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
It’s been established you aren’t mine.
Yet that doesn’t stop that feeling when I get around you.
Sweaty palms, shaky knees, blood red, goofy smile, ditsy.
My heart beats fast when I talk to you.
Its like we are standing still in time…
The world around us is spinning around at the speed of light.
At night there is a traffic jam in my head,
Thinking of words I should have said…
What if I would have kissed you then?
What if I would have handed you my song book?
What if I would have said that?
Would that have changed any of this?
If I see another chance,
I won’t hesitate.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
See it's a strange thing,
"self made men"
It's the rage thing,
"forbes front page t'ing"
A majority that's pacing,
voting for a one percent
that in return enslaves them
My girl used to laugh at my jokes
now I'm broke and she ******* hates 'em
I look for aspects of success and then I stage them
be sure to colour background facebook page 'em
My rent doesn't reflect my wages that's inflation;
that's what I get for living so close to the station
In this pompous student city covered in glitter
and these ditsy Corpus Christi *******
be getting quicker and quicker and quicker
Don't know how they can afford the liquour
pre-drinks before Ballare movin' on to something bigger
If I see another site with student accommodation
on the hoarding, I might as well go sell my ****
Start ******* because I'll never make it in this town
I'm one quarter brown and I don't speak Spanish
born in Cranebridge, forced to watch others live lavish
The tourist loves it but a local feels damaged
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
Princess in my eyes, my little lady
is my life, a smile that shines up my
day. Seeing her blows the Grey clouds
away.
Shes ditsy, you ask her to look for
something, 'CANT FIND IT' two
seconds I look, its there on the ground.
She is smarter than she looks, her
imagination has no bounds, creative
little madam, but like a hurricane
when ideas pop out, tidy up your
mess a sigh is heard coming out.
There is no other than my little girl,
shes my little princess who looks
after her little brother and sister
to make sure manners are said
and two play hide and seek,
''FOUND YOU'' can be heard
shouted out.
Shes daddies girl, mummies shadow
when we go out. I wouldn't be with
out her shes my little princess with
out a doubt.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 7:56 AM UTC
Hi I’m back and I’m -
So cryptic. So embarrassing, but it feels so relieving.
What’s funny is you’ll take a peak inside, feel mortified by what you see, but you’ll never see the full picture.
It’s a lot but there’s no option other than to stay on the path and pick my feet up.
I guess ill continue walking till I’m bruised and bleeding, teary eyed, barely breathing, satisfied with myself when all my demons are defeated.
It’s misleading, people teach me love and pain and say they love me then deceive me?
That’s demeaning, it’s been a nightmare lately and this lack of sleep is getting to me.
Everything is getting to me.
I’m sick of all the drug abusing, dumb excuses, acting like I’m ******* useless.
?Acting dummy, ditsy, clueless.
All these lies that just abuse me.
Look inside, you think I want to stay here much longer? Would you choose pain if you felt that your pain had provided you comfort? Because it’s easy and you’ve got a little food in the cupboard?
That’s a tough one, huh.
Yeah that’s what’s been my personal struggle.
But lately I’ve been getting tired of these lack of views.
The windowless prison walls, the being stupid - act confused.
That’s weak as hell. Im finished with this and yes, I know I’ve said those words at least a million times.
I’ve always meant it when I did, it’s been a treacherous climb.
If any of y’all relate feel free to reach out some time. Life’s struggles don’t need to be a lonely experience.
Everybody goes through things, and listen man I know that you’re hearing this.
Just follow me, let’s put down our vices and take a walk.
There’s no need to be fearing this.
Jun 9, 2021
Jun 9, 2021 at 5:08 AM UTC
Blanket the iris entrance where the light reflects our progress,
dashing little punctuation clinging to its functions.
Similar deeds are capable your form is nothing special kid,
finding truth and anti keep the sword as closest ally.
People will deceive and trick it's in their basest nature,
sorta hard to be a saint when the devils your next door neighbor.
The Girl looked kinda ditsy but her stare was firm for wear,
she strolled into the nearest town and found a crier there.
Foxily her lips announced, remember this and take account,
our connection is a deep and dark, cherry tree with singing lark.
Continued on to speak, of humans fickle, small and weak
the mountains children gone from peak.
As of now you are not ready, acceptance to the true of family.
Passing me with grace and speed, I glanced a foreign Deity.
Now It's really very fuzzy, she did leave rather quickly,
my
memory and sight of color, lack the proper imagery.
How could this have happened?
I seem to have forgotten,
the beauty of a queen or greater,
that Mushi Master, with eyes of wonder.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC
I see you
A man wrought with tears of glass
Walking fraught with judgments fast
And a heart that secretly overflows
I see you
A woman scorned by ditsy destiny
Wrangling towards her own entity
And a heart that cries in the shadows
I see you
A child troubled by pleasured flights
Of fantasies, parental pain, unsteady sighs
And a heart that reigns in blows
I see you
All of you
Like I see me in the dark of doubt
Hours going on a jaunt with clouds
Streaming through
Like flocks of crows
I will see you
All of you
In pictures daintily kept
Swimming in boxes of crazy unkempt
Until thoughts take off
With this mind windswept
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
YOU ARE GONE
I gave no reason to complain
I gave away no scerets of yours
I gave it all up and stuck on
But all you did was walk away
And let all my efforts go in vain
All i asked was for you to give a
Little bit of love
A little bit of your time
A little bit of your smile
But you said nothing when i asked,
Why you had not called in a while
Gripping to that part of my memory
Where forever was meant to be
Where promises were meant to be kept
Where we would plod together until we slept
Silence, could never tear us apart
Neither could the space
I still try to think back, try to
Figure out how this misery started
In the first place.
Holding on to the pieces of our memories
My heart is clenched to your voice
I keep going back to us
Hoping one day there wont be any fuss
My ditsy brain still hopes you would come
Back to your senses
Come back to us, come back to me
Come back to that time where
The mornings were all that was meant to be'
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
I am tired of my race being degraded
Because others have bought into their stereotypes
Because you know what
I know a ditsy Asian cheerleader,
I also know an Asian girl on the Science team
One part Times at a Chinese restaurant
The other at the local grocery
I know a black man who is kind and caring
And he works at a bank
I know a black man who thinks he’s entitled to my body
With no job, because two hundred years ago
My ancestor hit his with a whip
I know a Mexican girl who was an anchor baby
Her parents came here illegally and made a life for her
They got their cards a little late, she rides horses on the side
I also know a boy’s who’s parents went through all the right channels
Both are jobless and he’s failing every class
I know white kids who are dumber than a box of rocks
Who think they’ll make a living off of video games and ball
I know white kids who try so hard to rise above
The ignorance of the past
So stop degrading me for your ignorance
Do not define me for the stereotype of my race
And I will not define you for the stereotype of yours
Race is not a definition
Nor does it entitle you to a thing
So none of this “reverse racism” crap
Racism is racism
No matter who it comes from
So let me say again
Race is not your definition
Nor does it entitle you to anything
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
So what is it I’m feeling now
With my skin aglow and heart aflutter
I’ve never felt quite like this, about someone
who wasn’t created by a writer
This is a new experience
One I’m scared to embrace
Change can have two outcomes
I don’t want to end up a charity case
I think I’d rather stick to my poems
Than chance a broken heart
Words have been enough thus far
Why should I break us apart?
I’m terrified of becoming
One of those ditsy, boy-crazed babes
But I find my world is different
Taken over by a brand new shade
Maybe I’ll take the risk then
What harm could it really do?
Who knows, if I’m lucky
Maybe he’ll like poems too
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:07 PM UTC
one thing then another, as all regular days really.
graphs will show it, we can draw , we may discuss.
if we wish, walk the graden
play with spelling with punctuation.
this is no disaster, word survival deleted.
we have
moved the line into a place of hedges, rural contemplation.
they say it begins at home, that depends on belief.
we eat off broken plates.
titanic.
sbm.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 1:17 AM UTC
Sorry this is so long, I just wanted to lay the big problems out there
I. Forgetting
Why am I forgetting things when I’m only fifteen?
Like, I get being ditsy, and forgetting minor things
But this is different
This causes me to have to make lists of things I can’t forget
(But what if I forget something that needs to go on the Forget List?)
And instead of practicing my dances
Just once every week, like the rest of my team
I have to practice every night
Or I’ll forget
And I can’t remember lyrics for the songs we have to sing
So I have to sing my songs over and over
Or I’ll forget
I just don’t get it
My memory is slipping and I’m only fifteen
II. Anxious
I can’t just sit in a car calmly
Because when we are a car away from the car ahead
It’s too close, we’re gonna crash
And from that crash, I can imagine all the ways I will die
If I get an F on this next test
That F will stand for everything
I’ll fail at life
And from that F, I can imagine all the ways I will die stupid
If I don’t talk in this conversation
No one will like me
And if I do talk they won’t like me either
And from this do or do not, I can imagine all the ways I will die stupid and alone
I don’t need a reason why, or how
But I can imagine all the ways I will die
III. Stressed
I don’t want to go home
Because my family is awful, and they don’t want me anyway
So I don’t go home
At least, I postpone it
I add to the list of things to do
Add show choir, add oral interpretation
Add play, add study buddy, add random projects
Just to keep me out of the house
And then add more complications
Like, I’m bisexual, and have only come out to my friends
Like, I’m pretty sure my sister is a gender specific homophobe
Like, I have to figure out when to fit my dad’s house to my schedule
Like, my dad has been awful to me here lately anyway
Like, my friends all have drama
Like, they always expect me to solve it
Like, everyone thinks I am perfect
Like, I think I need to convince them that they’re right
It keeps adding
And adding
And adding some more
IV. Sad
I’m always sad
Some mornings I wake up and can’t get out of bed
Not because I can’t physically get out of bed
It’s just that I can’t mentally get out of bed
Because I’m always sad
And I have all these happy moments
That are all masked by this sadness
And this sadness is all masked by this happy face
Because the second someone even thinks for a minute
That Perfect Reagan is broken
Is the same second that the people who do want me, won’t want me
Perfect Reagan is dysfunctional
And cracked in many spots
Because Perfect Reagan
Is also Sad Reagan
And she can’t escape it
So she hides behind her domino
And when that fails
All she has to do is make a new one
So yes, Perfect Reagan has happy moments
But they are hidden away, overpowered, and shut down by sadness
And the sadness is hidden away, overpowered, and shut down by the mask
It just takes a while to get the false face to work
Like painting red walls white
The red is bound to bleed through
Just like the sadness is bound to seep through
Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 11:22 PM UTC