"dumped" poems
I was walking down the street
Had an urge to *****
Saw a ***** dumpster
this looks nicer than the girl I dumped'r
I unzipped my pants
shat on the plants
got nice and hard
and shot off harder than a pornstar.
**** THAT DIDN'T RHYME)
I have too much time
because all I do is shoot slime
all over the back
of a president who is black.
I like *****
I bang *****
I make them ***
faster than a game of putt putt.
****** I CANT ******* RHYME)
All of you poetry snobs
are more stupid than calvin and hobbes
You will never be as successful as
Steve Jobs.
End of story. Because I am about to write another ****** poem.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
Your voice has settled
On the taut film
Of my ear drum,
Like an echo
It howls,
But I've hummed it
Into a soft whisper.
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 3:43 AM UTC
If you want my ex girlfriend, she's up for grabs.
But if you sleep with her, you will get the *****
It's possible that you may get ****** too.
Sleeping with her is a stupid thing to do.
I caught her in bed with my cousin and I thumped her.
She sleeps with a lot of men, that's why I dumped her.
I'm giving you valuable advice so you'd better listen to me.
If you ****** my ex girlfriend, you are sure to get an STD.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
comfrock, you **********
get up off your crazy knees
and I'll belt you down
again --
what's that?
you say I eat stem pipes?
I'll **** you!
stop crying. god ****
all right, we dumped your car into the sea
and ***** your daughter
but we are only extending the possibilities of a working
realism, shut up!, I said
any man must be ready for anything and
if he isn't then he isn't a
man a goat a note or a plantleaf,
you shoulda known the entirety of the trap, *******
love means eventual pain
victory means eventual defeat
grace means eventual slovenliness,
there's no way
out . . . you see, you
understand?
hey, Mickey, hold his head up
want to break his nose with this pipe . . .
god **** I almost forgot the
nose!
death is every second, punk.
the calendar is death. the sheets are death. you put on your
stockings: death. buttons on your shirt are death.
lace sportshirts are death. don't you smell it? temperature is
death. little girls are death. free coupons are death. carrots are
death. didn't you
know?
o.k., Mack, we got the nose.
no, not the ***** too much bleeding.
what was he when? oh, yeah, he used to be a cabby
we snatched him from his cab
right off Madison, destroyed his home, his car, ***** his
12 year old daughter, it was beautiful, burned his wife with
gasoline.
look at his eyes
begging mercy . . .
9.8k
There are people that have this ability to make people melt in their hands
They walk around their entire lives finding their prey and engaging them and make them melt
The victim is usually rewarded with a night of rampant *** and is then dumped into this puddle when the antagonist
of this story is done with them
Sometimes it takes days for the victim to turn back into a solid substance
Sometimes it takes weeks
Sometimes they never fully turn bqck to normal and their will be a part of them that will always remain liquid because of the antagonist
Many fall victim to this antagonist
Until the protagonist comes along and upsets the routine
The protagonist cannot be melted
And it is due to this very specific favt that the antagonist ia revealed as the true protagonist of our story
That's usually a goodish enough story line that melts the audience
But people like myself who do not melt sees the true sadness in the lack of melting
We do not melt because we have been melted ao much that we went for an operation and we came out transformed
We are now metal
And I'm sorry to disappoint that antagonist/antagonist who becomes a protagonist
But the best you would ever be able to do to me is to warm my heart
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
do you even know me?
think again.
just because you heard some **** about me doesn't mean it's true
but thank you for telling me what you heard
now that's my definition of you
your revenge is not the healthy kind
if i were you, i'd stay the **** away from those manipulative minds
i know i have my own issues, some i won't admit to
but hearing all that
like garbage being dumped
like the ocean being polluted
like the ozone filled with substances to dilute it
just breaks my heart.
please stop.
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 4:58 PM UTC
Hey Sweetheart remember me?
The girl you said you 'loved' for almost a century?
I see you take your "new" friends wherever you go.
Are you with them cause we broke up or is it for their hoes?
So you said we should be 'friends' and you're really sorry,
but what about these rumors you've been telling everybody?
I never left the boundaries of being faithful,
that was your dumb *** cause you're so ******* disdainful.
Now even though I'm ecstatic I kicked you to the curb,
we need to go over some things cause I'm pretty disturbed.
For one keep my name out of your mouth,
you must not understand baby I'm from the south.
I'm not scared to punk you in front of your friends,
if I hear another thing about me from you this will transcend.
Oh by the way I un-friended your ***** ***
You're a piece of **** and you've been outclassed.
I hope the next **** you **** carries stds,
that's exactly the kind of wake up call you need.
Thank God I dumped you when I did,
you were so ******* annoying since you act like a kid.
I hate you so much and I will never miss you again,
Lets not talk anymore and you can just have a ****** life then!
-Alicia Hubert
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
QUESTION.
Poverty!
Do you think that this should be a global urgency?
Selfworth as Commodity!
Do you think that this should be a human priority?
Try telling one billion children living in extreme poverty,
And the twenty two thousand that die each day that their not a priority,
Tell them we have more important matters to adhere,
That our top ten banking bosses earn an excess of two hundred million a year,
So what about our eight hundred and fity million that don’t have access to clean water,
Tell them they dont really have a voice and dont really matter,
Clean is not fourteen billion pounds of waste dumped this year into the sea,
Clean is not two hundred million gallons of crued oil lost into our oceans by BP.
I am Jimmy.
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 6:43 AM UTC
He is rougher then being dumped
from the saddle of a bay mare,
but perhaps she shouldn’t be riding
******** past vineyards of red rusted vines.
And if she is on fire then she should probably roll
or climb into a hot tub on ***** Thursday
and put out the flame ignited by the thought
of hoping to God his parents can’t hear her.
She had always wanted to know what it felt like
to slaughter someone. So when he placed his palms
on the arch of her back and massacred her lips,
I imagined her smashing his skull against a brick wall.
And when she is in the bathroom washing him off
her hands, with a published poet in the next stall
she shouldn’t yell **** you, I’m not a flower
and start listing off the ten rules to **** ***
Because no matter how many times she uses him
as her own personal merry go round or slams
back beer after beer, he will never die in a coffin
so that she can say he is already dead and
buried.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:12 PM UTC
Chereè, Chereè...Her mommy cried and warned her to be careful, 3 months ago she left home for L.A in hopes for becoming a star. Five foot five, dark green eyes, skin complexion as a beige princess, at a pool party in the hills she met the producer to both whoms sparked interest. She had a voice of gold, a personality so bold, and he had the fill to her mold. So she thought, So she was told, Chereè was gullible a young 19 years old. She moved in with Jazzy, fell in love with him, and his savvy, way of making her feel so **** and strong. For three months he lead her on, head and *** every other night and she never recorded one song. Then he came to her and asking, "Baby do love me…Baby do you care." Thirty minutes after she finished her makeup and hair, they stared into each others eyes, he gave her a tender kiss as he caressed her thighs. "I love you girl, and I always will." As she strapped her heels, he uttered a comment about how love doesn't pay the bills. North Hollywood, for weeks the pay was good, until the night she climbed in the SUV. "What's your name sweetheart." "Whatever you want it to be." She hopped in the truck, and he had something tucked, he turned and flashed L.A.P.D. Just do me this one, and I'll let you go…and she prayed to just get back on the stroll. They went in the back seat, the ***** cop was a freak, he used his cuffs to tie up her hands and feet. She waited till he was weak, he came and then she beat, her elbows into his head and felt for the keys under the seat. He whipped out an 8 inch blade and slit her throat. He kept stabbing, and he ever choked her.....looked at the body, and rolled it over, took his cuffs and gave her a soft kiss on the shoulder, he wiped tears and blood from his face with her thong, because he told her……that'd he let her go. He dumped Chereè on the side of the road, and took off for his Beverly Hills home.………And her mother told her to be careful.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
There was nothing I was ever so ashamed of
that I dumped it in a river to drown,
but one time my best friend accidentally tossed my pink fishing pole
into the bayou when a spider dangled from the line.
We were eight, everything was wishy-washy
because she called herself a mulatto like it were an insult
and my older friends kept mentioning that my mom walked herself
to a liquor store very late at night
twelve-packs bruising her German-colored shoulder.
I did not tell them my father had hidden away her car keys.
Girls teased me and I still wanted to kiss their cheeks at goodbyes,
The Little Mermaid featured at our sleepovers
saying, “kiss the girl,” so I did
but we stopped talking when I bought my training bra,
it proved what was in my skirt, my lips could not touch them again.
You cannot kiss a girl if you are a girl,
even if Disney movies say it is okay because Mickie Mouse
has no ***** to be ashamed of though a wife of the opposite ***
I learned important things until I turned ten
and Hurricane Katrina unraveled the bayou into my house
and I existed in four different classrooms in my fourth grade year
where nobody had enough time
to learn my name, much less the way it is spelled.
Now, in therapy, the certified insists
that I am a girl who kisses other girls because my mother
only put her lips on a bottle.
But maybe I wear striped dresses just because mold grew that
shape in my home on Camellia Street,
mud decorated the fallen refrigerator so it looked like
a cow some punk tipped over.
I just wish the sidewalk I use to rollerblade on hadn’t flooded.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
The trees juice swallowing
Dread-locks opening the
key to my heart
Pulling Amber Agate to the end
wishing the wagon
was my good luck hand
So helpful than my
hallucination struggling
wilderness mission
Apple abandoned Mcintosh
her computer
The thirst compelled her
So Gingerly lemon tea
4 -2 beer pockets
Four letters not to like
H-E-L-P____$$$
if you only knew abandoned hike
Imagining stew of rabbits
Four people Fast Wendy
4 meals for 4
Sahara desert burger
The Amber ghost of
two wrinkled catalyst
Did time desert me
4:44? Paralyzed list
No Star wars may the
force be with Amberlized
Quicksand lowered
water was drying
Her abandoned party
type Diva evaporated lava
Amber the corner of her lip
all pruned couldn't sing
Slenderman slumber nails and dirt
Amber people are the strange
wagon getting hurt
1- Hot it is (..)
2- Is it wrong to feel abandoned
3-Wrong being sold out to Uncle Sam
What was?
4- Was she blinded all alone S-O-S
5- SOS surrender distressed wood belong?
6- Belong to be dumped
near a wagon deadbeat song
7- Song didn't move lonely emptiness
, please help
8- Help wanted not just any sign
9- Sign was stolen and Amber rose
10- Rose so ember plain and desert storm
he gulped
11- Gulped left with one (.)
12- One far two stars bygones
13- Bygone the last line 13 I= phones
Help______
deleted numbers
Now don't disappear on me
I was abandoned too many times
The dirt and the sand stayed still
No cell phone picture to install
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 7:03 AM UTC
Chemicals - hexafluorosilicic acid and sodium fluorosilicate
Derived from the phosphate mining industry,
both considered highly toxic by the EPA
These hazardous wastes are dumped into drinking water
LIES ... Fluoride - it's so good for your teeth
lies the dentist, lies the doctor, lies the politician
Lies the dead fish
in the water
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
I met you over Facebook...
You were a stranger to me,
I knew not you,
or your personality.
You were a random, I found you on Facebook.
I said, ''Hi, I know you don't know me and that this is probably weird, but, hi''.
You were cute.
I didn't think it would hurt to add you and maybe talk to you a little.
About a month after I had sent that message I found out I was
switching schools...
Little did I know you went to that school.
We started talking a lot more,
we became good friends.
...I had a crush on you...
I met you about a little while after, you were so cute.
I walked in the door and you just stared at me.
I was frozen.
I was new, I didn't know what to do.
I sat in the back of the room, I kept to myself and was very quiet.
Little ol' you wouldn't let that happen.
You were nice, you talked to me, your friend on the other hand... That little creepy ******* just stared at me.
You and I started talking but so did your friend and I.
I had you and him both wrapped around my little pinky.
An accomplishment any girl in that class would love to have achieved.
Well, I dated him.
I dated my crushes best friend.
The creepy little **** who would stare at me for hours on end.
After no more than a month, he dumped me.
My feeling for Billy, my previous crush started to stir.
Why?
We became great friends.
Best friends.
I was really sad when I found out you were dating my best friend.
You guys had been dating ever since I had gotten there and I now just found out.
Boy don't I feel dumb.
That relationship you two had was cute...
But, it was short lived.
You told me you liked me...
I was shocked,
happy,
astonished,
and then again disappointed.
I told myself to wait,
told myself, ''Oh. He'll come around,''
It never happened.
I fell in love with you.
You invited me over, so I went.
We had fun.
We watched movies...
We played footsies?
Yeah, it happened.
The next Friday after that we hung out and you tutored me...
Wasn't exactly tutoring...
More like a kissing class.
Oh well, I didn't care...
At the moment.
We we're caught up in the moment, and I head you whisper something in my ear.
''Let's make it official,''
I said, ''Let's do it''
You picked me up and carried me into the bedroom,
laid me down on the bed, and passionately kissed me on the lips.
I kissed you back, life was getting better already.
March 22nd, 2012.
It's our anniversary, also my Dad's birthday.
That day leads us to where we are today.
Still together,
still in love,
reaching for our forever.
I never knew that a random guy I added on Facebook would end up meaning so much to me.
I never dreamed I would find someone I love this much.
I could never ask for more.
Now every chance my Dad get he sais, ''You and him are the best birthday present I had ever gotten!''
I wish he was still here today to say that, he left about two months into our relationship.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 6:18 AM UTC
"The Nymphs are departed"
says Elliot,
the nymphs are departed,
so, all the barbers dumped their tools into the lake out of the village,
because all men will grow beard,
the homosexuality of the high ends of the streets,
is stuck to the heel of that transgender like a dust,
you can not shake your head if you have combed your hair neatly,
and your impotency is revealed,
you reach to the tree running, and fall like a chestnut,
your hands are still blue from the act of last night,
there is no question that you will be accused,
for the name sake there are some shovering forests,
at the every rough turn of the streets,
you can only enter with your grown beard,
there is only one riddle to solve,
"why did the nymphs depart?"
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC
On the 15th of May
In the French Laund-er-y
There was a small man,
The Chef De Partie
He was mixing and stirring
And stirring his sauce,
But his sauce wouldn’t thicken
He was at a loss
So he needed to think
and ponder awhile
Until on his face
Was a bright white smile.
“I have it!” He said.
“I know what to do
All that I need
Is a nice thick roux.”
No reductions or tomatoes
Or even puree
He needed the roux
It was the only way
So what he did next
was truly “the ****
He melted some butter
And dumped flour in it.
This mixture was gloppy
And looked like wet sand
The roux was ‘a cooking
But looked awfully bland
Morton must think
How to flavor this glob
Chef Tomas Keller said
“Morton its your job”
He thought and he thought
“Oh what can I do?
Bechamel or Veloute?
What to do with this roux.”
“Veloute I think
Sounds good for today.
I’ll make some of that.
Chef might exclaim, “yay!”
So he added some stock
Of Gertrude McFuzz
It was the best bird
It certainly was
Fond Blanc De McFuzz
Was clear and not milky
Morton’s Veloute
Ought to be silky
He cooked it awhile
Maybe for one half an hour
And when it began to bubble
The roux showed its power.
It thickened and coated
The back of a spoon
This stuff’s almost ready
It should be done soon
He strained it
removing the floury bits
It needed to be clean
No clumpys or grits
It was almost over
It was just about ready
It still needed some tweaking
“Can’t we eat it already?!”
“No” said chef Teller
as he took a lick
Was it good? Was it bad?
Was the sauce too thick
“You did a great job!
Trust me, you did.”
Said Teller to Morton
“You did good kid”
“One thing I will say
That you forgot to put in
It’s the most vital ingredient
In the entire kitchen”
“Its something that most chefs
Don’t use a lot of
It comes from within
The spice of true love”
Morton thought a bit
Like he often does
And then he said
“Chef! That’s what it was”
“It didn’t taste right
It was missing its pop
Its pep in its step
Its fizzle. Its hop”
He learned something there
From Chef Thomas Teller
Food needs more love
It needs to be stellar
After all that
And in the end
Morton threw it away
And started again.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
You’re a thorn in my side, but at the same time that
You’re stabbed into my skin,
You’re also making my sides split in laughter:
You’re so funny when you remind me that
I’m the one who forced you into my side,
That I could very well pluck you out and throw you down but
I’d always go back to that spot on the ground where I dumped you,
Picking you up and pricking you back in
As we laugh together at my pain.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
Now that you're older
It's not about hair,
Consider the here and now;
There's no fooling with the passage of time,
Birthdays now greeted with whimpers and whines.
If you stay out til quarter to nine
You've missed your Red Rose pour.
Should we commit you,
Or simply omit you,
Man, you're sixty-four.
....................................................
We're getting older too,
But if the truth be told,
Never as old as you.
Now you can't frolic,
Or party til two,
You aches and pains own you.
Scan your body daily for foreign lumps,
By mid-afternoon you still haven't dumped.
Bladder in turmoil,
Kidneys are weak,
I could mention more:
All your joints creaking,
I think that's you leaking,
Man, you're sixty-four.
Always depend upon your diaper to conceal and not reveal
What you drank and ate.
We'll leave that with you.
And carry ID, Jake,
You'll forget you're you.
Make use of posties,
And Mary-Jo too,
What's old may now seem new;
Indicate precisely what you'll do and say,
Memory's surely slipping away.
You're still an alpha, thanks to ******
Don't expect much more.
Should we just boot you,
Or simply just shoot you,
Man, you're sixty-four.
Seventy-four's at the door.
A thousand weeks til eighty-four.
At ninety-four get ten more....
In good health.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 11:47 AM UTC
Across the ocean, you meant nothing to me.
You were a destination, a photograph, a wish.
You plagued my winter woes with your heatwaves,
jumping into creeks in your underwear while I wrapped myself in another blanket, cold Canadian ice princess.
You slept under stars in close contact with beautiful nature, beautiful life, beautiful people, while I stared at them, upside down, from my window.
And then the big dipper dumped you into my lap, head on my chest so you could feel my heart beat and I could tangle my fingers in your hair.
Photographs aren't supposed to come to life.
Beautiful smiles and messy blonde hair are for fantasies and dreaming and rainy days, and not for my bed or my guitar or my lips
But there you were.
For two weeks I thought and rethought and plagued my heart with goodbye is coming. He will fly away from me. We are not birds meant to be caged
We are wanderers, nomads, free-spirits who need no tying down or tying knots,
And I want to tie myself to your bed post with barbed wire because it hurts that much to leave you anyway.
But you leave me.
And there you weren't.
There you weren't as I made up my mind that it's okay to love a nomad, as long as you're one too.
And it's okay to love a bird of flight, just build yourself some wings and follow
But I was mistaken, I was wrong and I was three steps behind you.
Because when you said "I'll see you later" you didn't mean later
You meant get out.
And I still don't know if you're scared or if you just don't want me,
You don't ******* want me.
High as the plane that brought you here to leave me, I stand lace clad, smoke screened and alone.
High enough to feel my lungs contracting with each breath that made my tongue taste less and less like yours,
High enough to feel my knees click where you held them once,
One time,
Because that was all it took.
I couldn't get high enough to stop retracing the lines that your fingers made up and down my sides as you felt the curve of my body for the first time.
My limbs were barren, cold, antarctic as you left them when you took your warm, summer hand away.
So I turned the shower up all the way, until it burned enough to feel like I was boiling my skin, baptizing your sinful touch off of my innocent body.
I burned my arms and legs until they cracked.
They cracked from dryness, even after I wet them with my tears,
And my first,
fourth,
tenth glass of wine.
And I threw the bottle against my bedroom door.
Watched it smash,
Wished it was me.
I'll clean it up later.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 11:52 PM UTC
You should never make fun of someone else’s beliefs
Where you are right now has less than a few hundred million miles of surface area
You can’t even walk on 70% of it
77 years of life on average if you’re a healthy American
That’s only 4,015 weeks
28,105 days on this small planet floating in a large black mass
You’ve already lived about one eighth of your life
Time won’t stop for you
Your days on this blue marble go by and there’s nothing you can do to stop it
Believing there’s something more is nothing to scoff at
Do you really believe that? they say
Do you really believe there is a man in the sky?
Well since you asked here’s my answer
I believe there is meaning in every day
I believe there is a point to waking up and doing good actions
I believe there is a spirit in emotion
And a metaphysical being who loves me endlessly
Yes
I believe in something more
Now it’s my turn
Do you really believe that?
Do you really believe this whole thing is a scientific coincidence?
A cosmic collision at a specific point
An explosion that created all of this
Perfect atoms with electrons that bond and share
Creating perfect cells with all the right organelles
A process of cellular respiration that coordinates as a perfect opposite to photosynthesis
All to maintain homeostasis,
the so-called “wonder process”
that keeps us all alive
Our bodies preserve an exact temperature, the ocean an exact pH and salinity and the ground an exact resistivity
To keep us all alive
Scientific coincidence
We are all a coincidence?
What about that shooting in Newtown
More than one kid took a gun to his head
and what for?
Why was that so tragic?
The shooter could have been conducting a scientific experiment
What is the basis of right and wrong derived from?
What are feelings derived from?
Don’t tell me it’s science
Don’t tell me that it’s science that makes you cry when you get dumped
Science that breaks your heart when you lose that state championship
Science that lightens your spirit when you go home to your beautiful family after a long hard day
It’s not science
It’s your soul
A soul given to you with a light side and a dark side
A soul with genius thoughts and horrid sins
Genius thoughts you should act on
Horrid sins you may commit anyway
and He will love you
He will forgive you
Will your precious science forgive you?
I wouldn’t force anything on anyone
I wouldn’t question beliefs in science had my faith in God not first been tested
I’m not asking you to believe, whether you do or not won’t affect our relations
I just need to explain
To each his own
So don’t laugh at me
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
Retail-hunter gatherers pick
clean processed bones, digging graves
with their shiny teeth, studious in
their reveries as they drone
past worlds dumped in the thresher;
the trucked-in fields of film-wrapped
gore splayed lustily before the managers
wound tight in Machiavellian design.
A shepherd herds his flock of
wreathed iron back to its pen, its
skeletal tangle lit in riotous gold by
swords flung from lambent eyes of
pre-dawn’s shunting chariots
Cages shunt and bobble like tugboats
chugging stoic up swimming pool lanes
of nondescript tile, cheered on by shouting
colours to float through archipelagos of
paper towel and chocolate blocks past
the vegemite diaspora, and the arctic
wastelands cased in sliding glass fields of
perfect steady storms as wraiths baked in halogen
ask silent questions of the silverbeet, while
Lana Del Ray’s voice falls like
nightshade—slutty and serene—coating
shelf stackers in a Piaf sadness as the
shelves reach their arms out for more.
The check out chick hatches
a sense of déjà vu as carrots
and biscuits drone towards her
mind berEFT of any twitching
sense of POSsibility that wised
up and flew this leering coop and
deep in her catalogue of grey folds
something stillborn and waxen is
perched on gleaming steel, reeling
out her guts like cassette tape with jerky
nightmare arms and laughing like a
banker watching ***** films, mornings
dull cerise an invocation through
auto-jaws as she bursts out to warble
with magpies in car park’s climbing fire.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC