"eff" poems
[Chorus:]
I make ******* insecure
Ah, I make ******* insecure
I make bitches's insecure
It not my fault that I rock you ****** world [x2]
[Verse 1]
Hold up let me catch my breath
Why you hoes jockin on me here gettin bread
Pockets stay fat like I just won the menu
Couldn't catch it open if I had no [?] click
He neva met a ***** like me
And he knew he couldn't have me
So he told his ***** to get like me
Miss pinky I'm rockin ****** world
Call me bird cause I can **** on any nighaa and his girl
Yea I'm cocky and ***** I got a reason
Name one chick set trends all season
Stay on my grind, cause you know yo girl the ****
And I'm not like cream, but I can get yo nigha wet
Everywhere I go I'm the center of attention,
****** tryna show off and get my attention
Did I mention
They call me miss distraction,
Cause I can split a ***** from his ***** like a fraction
[Chorus]
[verse 2]
Throw me my mic, no need for an intro
Falen don't act like you don't know
I mess it up stay jerkin, everyone must stare
My steeze so hot it can straighten your hair
Comin through like a raven,
My jerkin videos, stay on dudes pages
I'm that bomb nigha I'm nuclear
Don't call me
I'm like solar we stand out yea
***** we bright, skinny jeans
Yea ***** we tight yup yup that's right
So complex have the crowd restless
While I'm yellin out we the baddest (we the baddest)
No love honey
Slap ****** and take they money
I'm money hungry
**** so lovely
Flirt so EFF, ingggg DOPE .! !
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
***** *** ******* wanna talk ****
Cause I'm that *****
And don't call me a bad *****
Call me a average *****
I'm badder
I more than
You hoes be lacking
It's like I'm the teacher when I be rappin
My flow so sick, when I'm done they start clappin
I put a bullet through your chest
***** they up on me tryna **** with it
Tryna get up in my ******* like I'm some kinda hoochie
Don't **** a ***** ***** cause they all boogie boogie
Yea and I'm 2 fly To **** with you
No I'm 3 fly everbody know me know
Yea an I'm so fly they be on me, on me.
[Chorus]
[Verse 4]
Money money money
Thats all I wrote
I stay on top
Your the water I'm the boat
Alway a **** and never a ***
I stay with mo plus ****** plus dough
Young in the game but I ain't a little girl
It jus take ten nigaas to rock my world
Rock rock my world, yea rock my world
So, I want you you you plus you
Plus the boy back there lookin cute in the blue
(You kinda cute)
People hate me cause they can't do what I do
Mean muggin I laugh at you
I took you man then stole yo boo
Blah blah it's true
Heart so cold like a freakin igloo
Got all these nighas like boo hoo
And on these tracks I go cookoo
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
they always seem to ascribe the stone age
with inventing the circle,
dinosaurs and the loathing of
x-ray via Archaeology -
ᛟ, or an ancient egyptian manuscript...
got the ******* wheelie on that ***** boo yah!
this is even weirder than Wittgenstein's observation
of late Copernicus... ᛟ-ray... huh?
you've been a peasant and you're still
curating a chance sharpening edit?
where's the ******* wheel with romans after
ancient egyptians and the babylonians
and for fuck's sake Hindustan!
O... where's O in Sanskrit? so who got the cartwheels?
the romans? huh?! a.d. b.c. buttered-up ****
if this makes sense... forget the universe,
alien civilisations... my own makes as much sense
as a gram of pepper and salt sneezed with.
hey flamingo! here's a signature in sepia!
banging on the bathroom floor - with Disney - passed
in those days: Lion Kong or King...
oompa loompa ooh ooh gorilla tyrant said so too.
they invented the wheel but forgot to phonetically
encode it with something similar...
runes, right, Scandinavian... ᛟ... i.e. O...
but i'd like to see ᛟ in a roller-coaster... just for gorging
on a regurgitation of jokes - and so i can
slang and slapper quick a blah in Jamaican slang
and say... yah mon' poo daddy do a diddy eff a flex
wit bling bling, cursor vector to noon
and da dwarfin of a shadow.
**** man, they invented the wheel but waited for the
romans to write the O... and it was music by then...
suddenly! huh?! the **** is this? whiskey straight up.
no wonder.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 7:14 PM UTC
What the eff is up with this site?
Why is it most people on the front page can't write?
Folks just babble on and on...
Or spit out a two line poem
Which is fine if it's a two punch knockout
Instead of sounding like a grammar school dropout
And why do certain things get so many views?
I can't seem to get more than two
Post crap if you want, if that's what people write
But they should give everybody a chance on this site
So I don't write about flowers or blather on about paint
So I don't pretend to be something I ain't
We should all have a voice here, The good and the bad
The silly, the happy, the lost and the sad
So come on hellopetry, give gutter poets a try
If you'd rise just a bit, we could meet eye to eye.
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 3:31 PM UTC
My day ****** Walk down the street and flash smiles at familiar faces. Deep down though you feel that its nothing. People walking past, keeping up their appearance, never letting down their guard or letting people know their true self. No one walks past really caring how your day went, what you are going through, or what is motivating you to keep going. They walk past flash their fake smiles and keep on with their day because just like your day, their day ****** too. It seems like we are on a hamster wheel never-ending, continuous, and just draining. Each day we get on and wear ourselves out, for what? Searching for answers, seeking purpose, guarding our emotions, and hiding our true selves. Why can't we just open up? Why not just let loose and just say whatever, who cares, eff it, because in the end does it really matter? Do the small talk and the fake smiles really make a difference for other people in our lives? Or are we putting on appearances that are unnecessary and relentless and simply just exhausting? We must make other people's days while our days **** day in and day out. We don't need a world full of Oscar the Grouches, but why can't we just try to be real and find true human connection. The more we seek this, the less happy we all become, so why not just stop acting and start being real, so you can help other people realize that their is possibly a light at the end of their tunnel, just like their could be for you. Who knows, your sucky day could just be the start of something great, or not...but you won't know until you push through and make it your journey, your adventure, your week, your day, or even just your little moment. So when you think your life ***** know that issa mood. -ZZ
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 2:53 AM UTC
The game played no longer how it once was
No votes on new posts
don't check the trends
or check your own for views and comments
The substantive roaming data of broken WiFi connections
Mangle your jangling words, hide your swollen faces behind forced smiles, Rembrandt bastardisations or smeared oil paintings of the black soul(less) beasts that lurk in satiate tree shadows fawned over the lawnmower blue cycle rinse washed acid soaked daydream ***** slap nation
So you revere the works once read on poetical facsimile sites
only to smear words of younger wordsmith wrangled teen angst
and now in your age and ardor it seems advantageous to judge
But then that will leave you hollow inside
or in fact, you could jump from a tall building only to bounce off the concrete into a children's pool and drown there in three inches of **** coloured rain water
But so instead the workload decreases as your dementia bedpost nightmares
all come aflutter
The laced lily white throng of petal pinched patterns masks
the marked men on their dusty knees
There, watch how heads explode
or listen to foley artists rendering the lacquered finish of the watermelon headjuice
Make up words
or make up lies
Wear make-up daily, earn some prize
or don't
I don't care
idc
idk
Resemble rhyme or reason
Disassemble the times and season
Return to pejorative pretensions, rants in verse verse verse verse prose format and **** the rest
Or simply return to the old ways of playing the game
Upvote this, and maybe they'll take interest
Comment here
return one there
Use tags, hashtags, wash rags, fat slags, arm chair fat cats
But always separated by spaces, prettyblankspaces
No, I don't do slam poetry, I'm too white and not nearly rich enough to not care
Reassemble the times and season, maybe make sense of it
Maybe not
Just don't let them become a passing trend, please
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
I'm glued in I'm blowing thick clouds
my mind screams and shouts begging for the answer
convince me convince me not
I feel strapped the eff down
all I rely on is knowing I'll fit in this size 1
Everyday I research my way out
half heartedly I devise a plan
Dear God send me an angel with a clue
a clue on what to do with my issue the future it's more foggy
I'm sinking slowly into depression sadly obsessed with my weight
I sit smoke and escape meals life and all of pent up pain
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 1:07 AM UTC
I can't stop this
Jittering of the wrists,
Maniacal half-splat
Splutterings of the gist.
1 and, 2 and, 3 and,
Up and down again,
1 and, 2 and, 3 and
Works 'til measure ten.
I cut down time,
And do it once more;
1 and, 2 and, now chime,
Notes shatter on floor.
I splitter,
I splutter,
While Mister
Just mutters
My horrible,
Dreadful mistakes;
One more take,
So try it again.
1 and, 2 and, 3 and,
Jee jee, eff eff, eeh,
1 and, 2 and, 3 and,
See see, eff sharp, bee.
Ay, bee, ay-
F SHARP
SCREAMS THE OFT WRONG HARP
OF JITTERING FINGERS
AND PIANO FARTS ENRAGED
WHILE MOVING UP AND DOWN
WHITE AND BLACK KEYS
FURIOUSLY ENGAGED.
BUT CUT THE TIME
AND DO IT AGAIN.
1 and, 2 and, 3 and,
Keep thumb under hand,
1 and, 2 and, 3 and,
Though left hand's undermanned.
"More fingers, more,"
It sputters into the night,
While sore fingers, sore,
Start a whole new blight.
1 and, 2 and, 3 and,
Now 4 and
Rest.
Everything is winding down,
Flushing away into soft,
Pianissimo serenades
Of sweet, sweet See-
BUT BEE FLAT
MAKES SEE RATS
EAT THEIR MOLDY FLESH,
BECAUSE BEE FLAT
TO SEE RAT
MAKES EVENING NOT SO FRESH.
Piano farts,
Just do it again.
1 and, 2 and, 3 and,
Now 4 and
Rest;
Second time through
Makes it the best.
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 3:00 PM UTC
Some things cannot be helped:
natural disasters,
"that time of the month"
(which is widely considered a natural disaster),
chocolate cravings,
sleeping,
going to the bathroom,
flatulence,
cracking joints,
growing old,
being young,
body hair,
and
feelings.
Mostly feelings.
We're human.
They're allowed.
Have some, won't you?
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
A misplaced youth
My first original rhyme –
take a “truck” drop the head and add an eff –
was hand-me-down crude,
not clever,
but how clever can you be
at four years old?
The chilly blush of it still brings
out a ringing
sound of one hand clapping
against my cheek;
then comes the deflating bawl
from pouchy flesh instantly un-stuffed
of its squirrely giggles and glee.
It put me off cheap sing-song thrills
for decades.
Same age, different flaws:
Can you be too young to develop
a finely tuned sense of entitlement
and the firmest conviction
for redistributing misbegotten wealth?
If anyone deserved a raggedy toy –
don’t call it a doll –
mouse-eared and with cherry-red shorts
cheerily poking out
of a tinsel-topped Christmas stocking,
it was me, not her.
Maybe Santa was suffering
from dementia,
or forgot his reading glasses.
I wasn’t smart enough yet
to cover my tracks,
and I didn't know any fences;
it’s hard to deny a crime
when you’re hugging the goods.
Skip ahead a few years,
and after the regular Sunday
indoctrinations of an uncharitably
faith-based brand of hero-worship,
there are all the tell-tale signs
of a sleep-sick heart
with an over-simplified world view
married to a messiah complex.
Is it normal to dream
of oneself, small but magnificently armored,
supplanting Michael
as the head of that goodly Host
driving out the evil legions?
At least I knew how to side with a winner
back then.
I also dreamed Gulliver-like,
I had been roped down to my bed
by a clutch of creepy-crawly bugs,
and in a tiny voice I could barely make out,
their spokes-beetle cried up to me:
“There will come a time
when the time finally comes,
and when it does
you’ll smack its self-satisfied face
for keeping you
waiting so long.”
My hand's always poised above the clock.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 6:34 AM UTC
Those messages you sent
to me in the dark of night
mean no more now
than they did
when we used to fight.
Just stay out of my life
and leave me alone!--
I don't want you anymore
and no, I won't come home--
I have no home
with you anymore
and I wish somehow
you'd just ignore
that we ever were a couple
for any length of time--
you hit me, you spat on me
you committed a crime
and NO, I will not take you back
and give you ONE MORE CHANCE
you see, I've already done that;
already danced that Dance--
and I don't need a repeat
of what I considered a living hell
so get the eff out of my life
and know this:
I do NOT wish you well!
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
Hickory dickory dock
Goes my biological clock
The clock strikes 1
An egg falls down.
Hickory dickory dock
Tick tick tock tock,
Tick tick tock tock.
I've always loved kids,
I've always loved babies.
I'm not one of those women
Who files procreation beside rabies.
I moved quickly from baby-sitting
To baby-ready
Any guy I try to go steady with
Is scared away
I hate to say
By how badly I want to be in the family way.
At bars what's the pick-up I say?
"Hi, I'm Amy. I'd like babies yesterday".
(It doesn't work so well).
Why do I want kids so bad?
Well why the eff not?
All that unconditional love
That baby smell they've got.
When preggers I could wear all those clothes
That make me look fat
But with pride.
Not hide my belly,
But place my hands like so
On my bowl full of jelly.
People would open doors for me.
Pull out chairs for me.
Then when the baby came
They'd ooh and aahh.
Smile at us laughing
On the local park's seesaw.
"Heehaw's the sound a donkey makes!"
(All the dudes reading this are like
"Girl, put on the brakes!")
But why do guys often run
At the thought of a fam?
Why should I hide
Who I really am?
My career's going nowhere.
No man sticks around.
So I'm poking holes in all the condoms I've found.
(What's so wrong with that?!)
Perhaps I'm just lonely.
I guess what it boils down to
At the end of this set's:
If I were to have a baby...
It would mean I'd had ***
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
I don't pretend to
Know anything
I have no knowlege of
So i speak the truth
When I say
That you scared me today
Do I know you anymore?
It has been so long
Since I tasted color
And dreamt
In daytime
I need you
But I don't want to keep you
I hope youre reading
***** you
I need you
But don't want you to stay
I am so lonely
Don't you dare look at me
***** YOU
So don't you dare come back to me
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 1:54 AM UTC
I'm not your girlfriend
I'm not your wife
I will never be your girlfriend
Not in this life
Your incessant flirting makes me cringe
You won't respect my wishes
Please go find another girl
The sea is full of fishes
Stop calling me your girlfriend
Don't put your wandering hands on my thigh
I don't even know you
And I'm definitely not willing to try
Quit calling me baby
That's not my name
I know what you're trying to get
And I don't play that game
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
fix me
FIX ME
F (uck me)
I (want you back)
X (is not the word I want to be described with)
M (ine, you were mine and now who are you)
E (vol; maybe if I spell it backwards I can rewind the clock)
fix me
FIX ME
**** YOU
**** ME
FIX ME (it's not your fault I'm broken, it's just that you had
almost made me alright
and now you
crushed me)
fiX Me
i just need to function again
please
please
please
fix me
before I break
every promise
and inscribe
your name on my skin
in red lines
**** you
**** me
fix me
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC
Livin life without *
Oh you didn't hear
It start's with f
If it get's in your ear
It'll eff your whole year
If the sign you see here
Is this rhyme scheme, Cheers
You're living life without fears.
While you were putting 5 carrats in your baby girl's ear
I was plotting on planting carrots in a plot not so near
Where the ***** hoes sift earth
Not ***** hoes who's only gift is givin birth
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
mattered less with a kiss to the ****
wATT-ever you meant to say wasn't
really what I wanted to hear, so good
luck in your next life. perhaps we'll die
together someday. perhaps we'll marry
each other and find enlightenment bey
ond the LED future-red-eyes-eternal. I
wouldn't count on it, but it's only because
I'm not one for counting. watch my bank
account as if I'm some sordid college drop
-in who realized-- *I would spend time with
the details if time wasn't money*
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 9:59 PM UTC
It's you again.
From the window.
But now in person,
Who should eff himself off.
You made me crazy,
You know you did.
Praising me won't help,
Geez. I won't answer you,
Idiot, this is what you are.
Making yourself a badboy,
Ah, it's useless. Your religion,
That's another question.
I'll make you remember me,
Don't think you can tease me more.
I'll be tough, and resist,
You can't win my heart, that's a promise.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
I just realized how many poems I've compiled... I probably have enough to compile an anthology... Eff yeah!
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 2:34 AM UTC
We died many times when we first met.
They’d say electric. You provided the shock.
I was in need of repairs,
a faulty motor with a clogged-up engine,
stumbling through life
like a Slinky
yawning its bones
down the stairs.
You played me well at first,
fingers on my body,
twiddled me back into tune.
We’d die again.
When we kissed
I tasted Malboro and Merlot.
I fell right into it,
you like a glossy new balloon,
a chaos of colour on my lips
left me spellbound.
We’d die again.
Then the moment would pop.
You’d be standing with a pin.
Met your parents.
They noddingly-approved between
gulps of Heineken,
but I knew we wouldn’t last.
It fell apart, of course.
Somebody ruined the jigsaw.
Started hurling snowballs
at each other, words like razors
shredding through the air.
We’d die again.
A slammed door, gone
to the corner-shop for milk
in a huff.
An eff-you blurting
out from the phone.
The shock had gone.
I think I’m dying again.
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
my computer is tombstone
s'only room for one in this, here, algorithm
i'm done
rumi was on ta somethin - eff zombie werds
shelve that ****
yer yum glistenskin skims my mouth probes
libraries lost easily contained in each feel
makes me undoom this dumb selfieshtick kitsch i do
that kills the mood with two neck wounds incisors apart
feels before syntax
jus thought i'd let you know
*******
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 5:34 PM UTC
and friendship is underrated
the more you Romeo-n-Juliet things
the less you see of your surroundings
*** isolates
friendship joins
a crowd a fest all one voice rolling
******* is the mt. top
friendship is the foothill
climb too high
death will meet you at the top
thinned air petrified growth
thrumming bountiful growth
******* promises ****
that it can't follow through on
friendship just is
effing flakes out
friendship stakes out
waits listens doesn't try to fix
eff **** buddies
i need more friends
let's all get high on friendship
...
..
i mean
uhm
im still gonna ****
but
i jus need more friends
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 8:27 PM UTC
morning barney
next door
muffled eff-yous
fuzz through the walls
in the mirror
my eyes awash
with scrawny red streams
my head like a sack
of gravel
that night
we talk about London
I think of the hug I will give
the clumsiness
coursing through me
like treacle
my lungs congested
with strange capital air
the subject changes
your girlfriend
guts a packet
of salt and vinegar
and we laugh
between sips of my Coke
and your drink
a sickly yellow
I let the conversation
drizzle over me
in a shower of syllables
I know my words
are jumbled
splattered slipshod
as a toddler’s painting
but I toss them in
see if they gleam
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
A young mother cradles her broken child
Amid the fragments of her world, her soul.
Blood drips. Rain-sodden insulation drips.
Stillness between storms. The trees are all gone.
A dark Sargasso Sea of shattered wood,
Bricks, clothes, books, toys, rags, glass, papers, bodies.
In the gasping heat the rot begins now.
No houses. No lights. A helicopter
Floating valley boys with plastic boxes
Taking cruel pictures and O-My-Godding
For the telescreen (between soda ads).
And in fortresses of personal affronts
(Safely far away)
Keyboard commandos leap into inaction:
P*eople who choose to live there deserve it.
We told you that global warming is true.
We didn’t have these things ‘til they kicked Jesus
Out of these here schools. And paddling, by God.
It’s Obama’s fault. Or is it George Bush?
It’s the Republicans. Public schools. Gaia.
British Petroleum. Coal. SUVs.
Suburbs. Not reading the Bible. Comets.
You’re stupid. Well eff you back. Eff you more*.
While in the second lowering line of storms
A young mother cradles her broken child.
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 3:25 PM UTC
Lyrics sink into my memory
Beat, into my heart,
Music, into my soul.
They stay with me uninvited
They mock me when I’m scared,
And torture me when I’m confused
Blocking out my worries
No matter how important they seems
They scream at the top of their voice
Without missing any dime of the track
Lyrics lures my mind into a lazy reputation
Sinking me deep, deep down into its ocean of scented water
Beats compels me to listen to the rhythmical sound behind the beat
Transporting me far beyond what I behold
Music dazzles the image in my mind causing them to multiply in tons
Thereby overcrowding my brain with maze of mystical ideas
Making it hard to marge up the mystical master piece.
Lyric steals my breath away
Music makes me lose my sanity
lyrics, Beats and Music makes me stop in my track,
And listen over and over again!...
Ah!... how I wish Al-Fruqon will have the same wonderful eff
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 4:18 AM UTC
.
I
n n e n
e f f e
f a f
f b f
a l a
b e b
l I n l
e e f e
I f a I
n b l n
e e I e
f n f
f e f
f
f
a
b
l
e
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC