"embarassment" poems
We do **** culture in uhmerica.
What is uhmerican culture anyway?
I'll explain:
it's like,
irrationalized entitlement,
moral decadence on every side
of every fence &
sick narcissistic pride
to be parasitic,
a louse *******
the life out of
the whole **** planet.
Men who have
everything
still die from depression.
Women who call
freedom co-decency
bold faced oppression.
**** first question later.
Hermits complaining
about the rain when
they know **** well
they don't even go outside.
Everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone.
See?
It's a cycle.
A spiral.
Maybe it'll go quiet
into the night, or
maybe it'll ignite
the whole **** planet.
Has anyone else noticed
the rise and fall of
Napoleon & the Romans?
How every worldwide empire dies?
In a fiery gust of embarassment
that was the special from the start.
I've grown numb
to the disgust I felt
towards everyone else &
the fact that they're all
kind of beyond helping.
Now I'm just waiting
for it all to fall apart.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
How great is the middle school years
I just want this year to end
Dealing with puberty
Wearing glasses
Being called "fat"
Having pimples
Everything is just so devastating
I just don't know how to deal with it
How can I even go abroad?
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
Curtains,
an invention made to hide,
to protect.
Curtains
are made
to give a sense of security;
isolation well-deserved.
But
Curtains,
can be dangerous.
Curtains
can keep you from the truth,
keep you from your life
outside your life.
Curtains
can make you feel stranded
and helpless.
Curtains
can make someone go crazy,
crazy enough to take a bottle,
keys,
and a gun.
Curtains
will make you drive around for two days,
THINKING
about your two sons.
Curtains
will make the hot fat tears roll down your face
in embarassment and pain and agony.
Curtains,
will put that one bullet in the gun,
put that gun to your head,
and pull.
Curtains,
will blind,
and lie,
and ****
and tear,
and rip,
and hurt
you,
if you let it.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
✿⊰✲⊱✿
"No, My Lady," Ainhana chuckles.
Esshi flushes at Paul's smile.
"Okay, you need to stay away from my
handmaids from now on!" I point at Paul
who looks at me innocently.
"Why? I've done nothing wrong!" He says
dramatically. "You are just jealous."
My eye twitches slightly. "I'll let you keep that
delusion."
✿⊰✲⊱✿
I stick my tongue out at him and huff,
much to their amusement.
Paul chuckles. "Love you too!"
He walks up some of the steps, turns
and claps, gaining everyone's attention.
"Come everyone! Before the feast, we must
make our wishes before the Angel's Fountain."
He says as he leads the way to the inner
courtyard.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
"Keeping us company, Brandon?"
"Of course," he chuckles. "After all,
we need to shield Esshi from Paul's
flirtations before she literally dies
of embarassment."
"M-my Lord!" Esshi exclaims as
me and Ainhana giggle.
*'Time for Donna's great and
final surprise!'* I beam!
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
I love you too much. In the end it just appears to be uber clingy.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
All these whinging intellectual poetic wankers,
scribbling Conditional Love "poems"that boringly
lament why they are such obvious failures
at the game of life and self realisation.
Spewing out weasel words of poetic hypocracy while
wrapped in navel gazing infantile emotions.
Writing degenerate untruthful words about a love
they'll never know or never have known,
as if unconditional love can be bought
at the local Walmart.
Voluntarily assisting the machinations of mind and groupmind,
since their birth into a lifetime of Conditioned Identity,
in the servitude of the Amerikan Oligarchy .
Strings of meaningless associated words,
lines of lies about life and love that are ever popular with "poets".
Starting with every one of the so-called "holy" books
from millennia past--calling for suicide bombers
and child killers to strut the world stage
spewing religious racism and sexism like enlightened beings..
After all words have NO SHAME
nor have poets..
Sin Verguensa.
Words have NO GUILT
nor have poets.
Words have NO EMBARASSMENT
nor have poets.
You cannot hide behind your lies from me.
I see you--I have nous.
Your beard is transparent.
Your unceasing lies deny to others information
to which they are entitled,
"poets" are the worst LIARS of all,
so easily spottable .
Read these pages--see for yourself,
through my eyes .
See the silly shit-fed children of the Amerikan Oligarchy,
wrapped in spangles and colours --posturing like super-heroes.
Vomiting verbal diahorea in lifes gutters,
appealing for just one more chance
to play at love and humiliation.
People with low IQs and lower morals
pretending ,as always, to be mature and human,
characters moulded like products of talk show hosts .
No integrity.
No truthfulness.
No honour.
No decency.
No morals except those learned from Readers Digest.
No to these escapees from the gallows of decency,
torture instruments dangling round their necks,
their prophet validated by being nailed and denied.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
He wanted it and he wouldn't leave without it
I wouldn't give it and tried to push him away
He felt so good in my bed, against me, teasing me
I was given an opportunity and I really wanted it
My morals are as high as the wall around my soul
I have always reacted childish and now in University I chose differently
I'm proud of myself for leaving, for telling him no
Childish teenage boys who always want one thing will always be mad when they don't get it
And now because I stood up for myself I'm punished
Forced to see him everyday, now he chooses to hang out with my friends
Crossing paths is unavoidable
Shame and embarassment marr my face and wreck my heart
But why am I embarassed? Why am I shamed?
I can't answer that question
Would it have been worse if I just gave in?
Yes, I would feel better but my self respect and the respect that others give to me would be diminshed
I'd feel like a ***** a lousy one night stand
Not the way to give up my first
Instead, I sit here trying to convince myself I was strong
But all I feel is weak
I want people to like me and to think I'm a fun person
Is giving it up to every boy who wants it really necessary to do so?
I just want to be there for everyone, be their friends, be a nice person
So, that's what I will do with everyone including him
Everyone has their issues, as I'm most definitely sure he does
I won't let anything happen ever again between us
But I'll be there because I won't hold it against him
And I most certainly won't hold it against me
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 4:17 AM UTC
"These are just too him," she said
And put her father's boots
Aside for me.
A size too big, but just my style.
Cried silently inside; she'd shed tears
Enough by now.
I thanked her in a whisper.
-
"How did your doctor's go?" she says.
I look down at my new
Boots; "not well."
"Too thick or thin?" she asks, the
Blood in question ringing in my
Ears in blushed embarassment.
"Too thin," I say, knowing too well
What whisky does to anyone's.
She kindly mothers me in whispers.
"I thank each day your life was saved
By surgeons and Warfarin. But
Just for me -look how it went
With him whose boots
You're wearing."
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
On the evening bus,
as alcohol flows through the veins of the college kids sitting in the back
The sober crowd's ironic cheeks glow rosy red,
as Amy Mae walks straight through a brick wall
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 1:20 AM UTC
he was a smile in the crowd
inbetween the pale faces and angry hair.
ushering me between the antiques.
he swept me through drumming beats.
he kept by my side.
he laughed with me.
he shared my humour.
why is it,
that this stranger,
could see that I am worth spending time with.
how is it,
that he could take the time,
to show me something new.
and yet,
the man i a married,
the man who i share a life with,
tells me that i am not likeable.
tells me i have an attitude.
tells me i dont care.
tells me i am an embarassment.
could i be such a dismal spot of filth?
that i can be of such little worth to the world.
through technology,
i can see his face.
and his smile,
makes me want to go to him.
i feel a need to be enveloped by arms.
arms that doesnt judge, or expect, or remember.
i want to speak my heart,
and not be admonished for it.
i want to share my dreams,
and not have them trampled.
the light i once thought was my soul,
has been kicked under dust,
because it was deemed too bright.
and now i watch the world go by.
Jan 26, 2010
Jan 26, 2010 at 11:03 PM UTC
Brush your teeth please
Do something listerine
Save up for a dentist
Or rip them out and get dentures
Totally inconsiderate
I think I'm gonna *****
I don't know whats worse
That or no deodorant
Why do I have to Poker face
Just to save you embarassment
This isn't your island private
Your on the train in public
Your space bubble is broken
I'm just about choking
Dam you good manners
I must behave and be decent
First world issue I know
A bit of a low blow
Now I write about it
So I can just forget it
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
We all fear going to jail, the fear of being finger printed, the fear
of losing your freedom, the fear of embarassment.
We feel uneasy about sitting in a cell with no TV just walls and no music to keep you sane.
We are fearful of spending a long time in there if we make a huge mistake or if we just ****** up by doing something stupid.
Jail a place of fear that makes you scared.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 9:34 AM UTC
Today I wore pink
And all through the hours
I felt wide - expansive,
Like a Sahara of embarassment,
The blush of recycled shame.
The color made me think of you,
And how you purred over the shade
When she inked it into her hair,
A blonde head turned to bubblegum filth;
How you smiled and fell in love
With everything but me.
You used to carry sweet words
In the pocket of your cheeks,
******* them like peppermints,
Tumbling them like a dryer
Until your teeth turned red
And then your tongue went sour
And your mouth grew mad,
Spitting sparks and catching my skin on fire.
She wasted you, with her cotton candy highlights
And that incessant, stupid need to be free.
She wasted you, and made you new
For everyone but me.
My mind is a carousel, and my thoughts are
Bumbling to catch one another,
Waltzing and reeling in spirals,
And dizzying the dance with canned lullabyes.
The girl at the bookstore has a smile
That's all teeth and pink gums.
She's pink, if pink were living,
And she's following me like a lost silhouette.
He asks me if I'm okay and I
Nod my head and feed him excuses.
He doesn't spit them up; its easy.
Truth is, I'm a whirlwind,
A pink whirlwind, and the color makes my stomach knot.
The muscles in my chest are whining,
And going stiff with self-disgust.
I'm starting to think I'm only happy
When I'm torturing myself with you.
Aug 24, 2011
Aug 24, 2011 at 6:07 PM UTC
I miss seeing that cheeky grin you give me as you look down in embarassment everytime I call you 'My babygirl'.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 10:40 PM UTC
angel hair knotted
in this sailor-apostle's fist
seafoam scurvy in turbid
oceans of a mouth
that smokes cannabis-infused
bible pages and exhales
exhumed passages
unearthed eons ago
i'm an embarassment,
i swear i wasn't gay
but i awoke at mid-afternoon
with no clothes on
and next to you
and your unbridled skin
molesting me with cancer sins
and chirruping horoscopes
i'm bird-brained to tell that
my knuckle bruises
and my spine's claw marks
were from last night
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
I know each one of us has a moment in our lives,
a moment when we make regrets.
Like,
*"Why the hell did I do that?"
"What was I thinking?"*
And later we abuse ourselves with punishment good enough to repay for what happened.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
To Bailey, I know you as a baby blue in the way you were just a boy, but loved me more than any man could. I thank you for giving me high standards of men, but now I am disappointed with everyone who doesn't love me as much as you.
To Sean, I know you as a navy blue, which is the starting color of a mood ring, you are always changing and each time getting more mysterious. I thank for teaching me a basic crush and helping me learn it is okay to just be friends. You were the first guy I was infactuated in.
To Austin, I know you as brown, your life was ***** and so were your grades, I was your maid. You were more like a project and you treated me like the way you treated grades; a joke. Thank you because I've blocked out everything good about you and can now only see your hand gliding across my face, from you I learned how to forgive without revenege.
To Parks. I know you as a traffic cone orange, simply saying WARNING: I AM TOXIC. You were an outcast around me, but attempted to be someone you weren't around others. I don't thank you for anything, you scarred me and I haven't been the same since you got what you wanted and told everyone I was lesbian when I realized you weren't what I wanted.
To Jack, I know you as a cloudy, soft gray, you aren't always sad, but you're not exactly happy either. You taught me it was okay to be out of the norm and doing that won't crush my mom. I thank you for realizing that love doesn't have to come out of the good times. The bad parts sometimes give you the best people.
To Chandler, I know you as silver liquid, it took you no time to fill my veins and make me feel wanted. Thank you for teaching me that if a guy is as smooth as you, he doesn't really want me. You gave me my first high school embarassment. Cause of you, everyone calls me when they need a fix.
To Nate, I know you as a dark green, your opinion on me floated around like wind through the trees. You wanted me life to be over and tried everything you could to ruin it. Thank you for teaching me it is okay to be talked about because now you come over everyday and ask for me back.
To Jonah, I know you as a midnight black, the color I see when I look at memories. I threw you away, just like you threw away my effort. Your kind aren't made for girls like me, thank you for informing me.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 11:06 PM UTC
i guess i'm done with apologies- what good did they ever do?
it's time i leapt before i looked, in order to move
despite fear rooting me in this swamp. yeah, i've been festering
here in this basement. apologies if the shrieking pestered
you. i was merely releasing stuck energy- in this agony, i seem so rude.
now that i've molted, i've no time to speak of my callow mistakes:
i can only swear silently to make up for them and for the time i've wasted.
let's face it, i'm nameless and my teens have passed me, but i've not missed my opportunity.
i'll prove it to you with this hopeful departure from the cliff.
i am no man or woman, not like you. i am woven of memory and birdflesh.
my hollow bones surely will grant me the gift of flight if i try my hardest.
if i leave you bereft, my second-best solution was to disappear, so there's that-
if i do not succeed, at least my failure will spare me the embarassment.
yeah, **** saying sorry, cause nothing ever came of it.
i could've said ten times more with my deeds- if i'd had the strength.
i guess we all could've tried a little harder than we did.
please just let me go now. i'll call if i've made it.
if not, well, **** saying sorry- cause i've had it.
yeah, we all say things we really mean, then sober up and forget to be honest.
i know you would've come if you'd remembered making the promise.
i won't say a word, no, i won't call you on it.
even though it's nowhere close to fair, we tried our hardest-
i swear we did what we could- so **** it.
i'm sick of being apologetic.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
when i want
to build a wall.
i take the stone,
formed by,
anger or hurt
from my gullet.
wash it, so it's
dark facets shine.
then place it,
in the footings,
of my insecurity.
find another and repeat
til they form a line.
using as my mortar,
pain, embarassment
and indignation in equal parts.
mixed with tears and bile.
and then, i begin again
buttering bricks and
offsetting, them.
i want, no need,
my wall to be strong.
tho i never build,
my walls too high
three or four courses,
never, no more.
i want to be able to,
step over them
and be free
i have seen those
and watch them still,
thoese who, built a high, formidable wall,
a fortress, it does become,
with them, still locked, imprisoned inside.
so i learnt to build,
walls strong, but squat
so i can,
when ready,
emerge.
righteous and graceful.
but this is my folly,
the flaw, in my scheme.
my walls, they run
***** nilly, everywhere.
and over them i trip
**** over beam..
so now...
i must find a school
to teach me the art
and give me the tools,
of how to deconstruct a wall.
with out the haphazard use
of a wrecking ball.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
worthless miserable failure
fat ugly disgrace
disgusting and impure
embarassment to the human race
no one will ever love you
and no one would even care
if you took that beautiful ocean view
and made it
the last place
you were seen
these are the things running
through her head
and no one ever wondered
why she was dead
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
we've been in a hot persuit with sorrow,
tempted death with playful beckons,
not fearing of tomorrow, as we instigated war between angels and demons,
then compared pumpkins with melons,
the art of a dedicated farmer,
who only begged for his seeds to grow,
day in day out during summer,
we scampered at the beach then ended in the dhow,
the consquence of a missing skill,
then some of us wept under the moonlight,
with brokenhearts that never heal,
i remember i was hounded by a fright,
as i read the 4th line of this poem,
something beyond my physical potential,
a performance you cant even mime,
then politics, business and anything commercial,
a mere embarassment, traders were mean,
and just to rest the case, 2013 is over,
we have mobilized better schemes for 2014,
we are the movers and shakers.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 6:28 AM UTC
i.
There are imaginations that are made of rust,
and they tend to rest on clothes lines and
spoil the rotting canary of mediocre dress.
Walk with me, because my pebbles cannot
settle against the dim of my breast pockets,
and so weary the sun tells me to strike upon
sweat laden cobblestone tears that chastise
who? You? Says he who comes stifled at my
feet, like an outlet man staring at fruits' chambers,
her wealthy, red string the last of his eyes!
Alas, what sure vagrant would kiss my fingers?
Is dignity the sour aroma of embarassment?
But let him come, when she turns her apple cheeks
to pray to the same head and God above.
ii.
The favorite jest of an arrow is to pierce a leg
while he jauntily catches the brow of his family.
The man will never saunter, nor amble in patterns
that reveals the flesh of a throbbing vein.
A young calf grows like the bluff of puffed cheeks,
and soon another, too--
together. His trousers will widen their stomachs;
his head the curious stew of bubbling concoction
that rise and decide not to evaporate in the air.
And someday, perhaps very soon, the fairest of
them all will chance and gaze into gallant eyes,
but brought down when he lowers the unidentified
color of glass. So be it.
His coins can jangle and fly to Shantou,
to Charleroi, circle around the perimeter
back to Sacramento. Ships move, yet the
infant steps of lead grow dim in development.
iii.
They say the wealthy family cannot last
for more than two generations.
They say a heart cannot last
its beating against another's,
if it be true.
iv.
Once, a man licked his fingers without even touching it.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 10:57 PM UTC
What does it feel like?
My little sister asked
Fourteen
Beautiful
The innocent smile
Of a still naive child
Who’s never felt anything more
Than sweaty palms
In a big echoing gym
Forced to dance with an
Awkward eighth grade boy
For phys ed credit
And embarassment
What does love feel like?
Love is the awkward silences
The first time you hang out
And neither of you knowing what to say
Love is being best friends
Love is racing down back roads at night
Windows down
Music blaring
Slamming on the horn
And flashing headlights
And raising hell
Love is pulling an all nighter
To spend one last night together
Even though you have to work
At 5 am
Love is drinking Yoohoo together
Love is sending stupid videos
And care packages
Because his laughter
Is your favorite song
Love is his huge smile
He only shows you
After you tell one of your jokes
That no one else
Thinks are funny
Love is hugs
And smiles
And texts
And sniped photos
And late night phone calls
And life advice
Love is the tears
And the trust
And not wanting to be
With anyone else
Love is being impatient
Wanting to see him again
Before he even leaves
And love is knowing
Every time you’re staring at brake lights
That you’re too perfect to pass up
Probably
So I turn to my sister
Nineteen
Pretty
The watery smile
Of someone too young
To have been through so much
Who’s never known anything
Close to the perfection I seek
Only liars and cheaters
Who’ve left me broken
And empty
And I tell her
Love is
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
There is no embarassment when you have a baby.
This is the wisdom given to the teen dad on the bus
He practices his Arnold accent
And ever so gently shakes the baby
He holds it like a bomb
The stranger shakes a pooh bear like she has the mitus touch
But where crying babies hush at her touch
I half hope the baby gets louder
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 2:02 AM UTC