"fatso" poems
*
*hold me not
touch me not
maybe I'm clumsy-clumsy-clumsy!
have headache
want chocolate shake
maybe I'm lazy-lazy-lazy!
feel me not
mind me not
I'm cranky-cranky-cranky!
the mood is swinging
find me clinging
I'm touchy-touchy-touchy!
may be crazy
sometimes hazy
I'm moody-moody-moody!
stay away
go your way
I'm feelo-feelo-feelo!
just be there
patient listener
I'm despo-despo-despo!
here i contradict
have conflict
I'm psycho-psycho-psycho!
changing hormones
troubling estrogens
tell me not a fatso-fatso-fatso!
maybe I'll be ok again!
maybe you'll love me then!*
*
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
Being overweight
Is no awful tragedy
So get used to it.
Obesity is
Not in the beholder's eye:
It's in your blubber.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
I used to be fat
and sometimes I
still think I am, but
being called skinny
minnie hurts just as
much as fatso.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
First Word War
Pseudo Realistic
Ballistic Uninhibited
A missile sent to split 4 ways
Edify a Crisis in phases
Automaton Pretty Faces
In Disguise to Amaze
a general public of sheep
BLEEP BLEEP
bullet proof bodies unarmed
with spit charming critics
listeners are chirping crickets
culminating communication
this is project…
“Superior Legitimate Unfeeling Trend”
Capital Punishment designed for when
humans breathe on humans
stress is truth is fast
look looming
wade in boozeblues keep on using
mayhem amusing
to pigs in fatso pen
***** rich and booming
sucker fish snoozing
we execute plan z
permanent marker losing
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
She is like children’s shampoo you had at age four.
“Tear free.”
But when in your eyes,
The tears still stream.
She is like scented markers from kindergarten classrooms.
Foreshadowing when you’ll be sniffing things that will make you lose yourself,
And maybe lose everyone else, too.
She is like sidewalk chalk you drew with in the first grade.
Entertaining for the weekend,
But easily washed off with the rain.
She is a 9/10 on a second grade spelling test.
So close, but not enough.
She is the inflated stomach you had in third grade,
When all the kids would call you names and picked you last for kickball.
She is the time you threw up in fourth grade,
Because being “Fatso” wasn’t who you were.
Or wanted to be.
She is the countless sleepless nights in fifth grade,
Wondering if you were running away, or running to something.
She is the blood stained sheets from sixth grade,
The time you named a razor after your ex-best friend,
Who left you for the blonde bombshells.
She is the time in seventh grade,
When suddenly the sleeping pills your mom took looked more like candy than meds
So you had a few,
And ended up in a hospital bed.
She is everything you wanted to forget.
And yet somehow,
She brings you solace after a life not well spent.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 8:17 PM UTC
Oh my faithful readers,
I am here yet again,
With yet another pretty verse,
About how I endured my internal horrors,
To save the universe!
I went to a dinner buffet,
Replete with extraordinary it was,
Music was being sweetly played,
People so busy nobody noticed a shattered vase,
Blown away by an extreme speed ****
The culprit wasn't spotted.
Because he left a silent ****
A silent high-speed ****
*A lady just smelled his methane,
And she just fainted..*
As he realized the berserk results of his farts,
He ran for the door making people aware,
That he was the real culprit behind it all,
I then went to his house and he was there,
Darning the place with his merciless farts!!!!!
I merely left a parcel containing some pills,
He probably took those pills for a long time,
Because the next time when I saw the fatso,
He wasn't scaring people away by his farts.
So I saved the universe!
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
\|/
@-@
( -Q- )
<=>
how I
drool over obese girls
with huge great cheeks
of wobbly dimpled fat
>========o======== no skinny birds for me!=======o========<
absolutely no way
yeeha
i love to see wobbly
fat girls waddling along
with their tyres of white flab
quivering in their size 88 jeans
like a pack of rabid rabbits fighting
in a rubber sack, and what do they need
yessir, they are barking for a friendly *****
from moi, edna the chubby-chaser and lover
of gorgeous female flesh body mass index forty
(at an absolute total minimum i must emphasise)
and preferable fifty so they look like a giant dumpling
i know you know the sort of image i crave: dimpled, dappled
acreages of heaving ********** wowee-yowee i am so excited
please god lead me to the land where the extra supersize fatties live
and let me exhaust my ***** gaze on their incredible buxom enormities
let me get my paws on them let me wallow in their glories dear god
oh yes indeedy when you come to think of it there's nothing like
a huge billowing fatso to get my blood afire with testosterone
and bottom-of-the-barrel-scraping loving lust
so why not jump off a pier
all you skinny minnies
per-lease
/\
/ \
/ \
@ @
/ \
/ \
+++ +++
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
When did girls start becoming so self-conscious of their looks?
When did the focus shift from baby dolls and fairytales to makeup and skipping dinner?
One day we are pretending to be moms, the next day we are taking measures that could ruin our chances of being that
Scraped knees and muddy feet turn into nylons and stilettos
Girls slowly come to the realization that they must become the objects pleasing to the eyes of men if they want to get far in life
Beauty becomes a job and we put in our hours day in and day out
Our only payment becomes the compliments, the catcalls, and the brief feeling of acceptance
These are only temporary and it isn’t long before we begin to feel withdrawals of our need for acceptance
We push harder for the attention of others, but we can never measure up to that prettier girl next to us
Scrolling the Internet for remedies to make our not so soft skin softer, trying to buy the newest eyeliner to make our not so big eyes bigger, sticking our fingers down our throats to make our not so skinny waist skinnier
When will this madness end?
No matter how hard we try we can never reach perfection, someone will always seem better in our eyes
But then comes the ridicule for being “fake”
You can’t wear makeup anymore, it’s false advertising!
But when you don’t you are ridiculed for how imperfect your skin is, how small your eyes are, and how thin your lips look
Girls are made fun of for being too fat, and they are made fun of for being too skinny
Insults ranging from “Hey fatso!” to “Oh my gosh! She must have a eating disorder”
Girls get thrown into this circus, forced to walk the tightrope while the crowd shouts and throws their opinions in hopes of knocking someone off
“Come one, come all! Lets see how far she gets before she falls!”
No matter which way you go someone will root for you to fail
The little girl who dreamed of being a princess now dreams to be let out of this hell she has been put in
And one day, our daughters will have to face the same things…
Unless we fight for them
It’s time to take care of each other
A single compliment, a smile can go a long way
One day my little girl will look at me and ask
“How can I be beautiful?”
And I will answer
*“My darling, beauty isn’t defined by looks, beauty by looks is fleeting, you will be beautiful by how you find the beauty in others, you will be beautiful in the way you are respectful to those superior to you, you will be beautiful for your love for the hurting, and you will be beautiful because my darling,
God made you beautiful in your own way,
From the Inside Out”*
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
I am disappointed.
I let you go
That you may
Find yourself,
The sparkle in your eyes
That bore through me
May burn bright.
The firm round beasts
Taut with desire for a touch,
That heaved at every breath,
Every turn of my words
And glance ...and I
Withdrew from them,
And your quivering lips.
Dying each day a thousand death,
Pining eternally till yesterday,
Like the lover in the Grecian urn
To liberate you and liberate me
From the there after, routine and
Mundane. To preserve the spark,
Blow into it, create a new word
Every moment, not be a wife
Or just a husband! But creators,
Challengers to Jove's throne.
The fire once again stolen.
Ahh..But pasted on fb what do I see!
Sagging ******* dim eyes,
Dead, limp locks, stable pasted smile,
Dotting over a fat boy and a ***** palsy pet.
Pretending to be happy with them
And a glorified clerical job.
I am liberated from pain,
But this freedom gives no joy,
Ah Mephistopheles!
I scream not in agony
Having lost my soul to Helen
But in the absence of pain.
Helena has become a fat
Dull mommy cooking
Noodles for fatso
And ***** petty Paris.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC
:::
• •
)
=
/\
/\
______
She loves !
Leaning on the window sill
a razor blade !
••
She said
" don't judge me cause I'm fat ! "
He said
" okay - Fatso - I won't ! "
••
Long and winding road thru hills
Scent of Dunkin Donuts !
The saint moves on !
••
Blissful smiling monk in the hills
Contemplating
Stock options
••
Wanting to know things from the perspective of
a heroin-addicted **********
She became a heroin-addicted **********
But her poetry still stank
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
Her story is a simple one
Two married parents, and an only child
Not poor, not rich
She had a name, but according to her peers it’s not important
They thought her names were Fatso, Ugly, Cow, Disgrace
She let it happen because she knew something
Something they did not even know about themselves
They were not as tough as they acted, they were scared
“Scared of what?” she did not know, it could be anything
What was she scared of? Nothing
Of them? The ones who tease her? Never
She could never be afraid of people she pitied
You may judge her for allowing this to happen to herself when she is supposedly so fearless
But if you judge her, what makes you different from the antagonists of her life?
I suppose her story isn’t simple
But it isn’t considered complex either
Because it happens everyday to people like her
They share Her Story
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC
There once was a boy who lived in Spocompton
His biggest fear was a drive-by to stop him
Whitest kid around totally fearless in this scary town
He shouted "Hey fatso!" But boy he did not know what was going to go down
One day he left the house to buy a small mouse
So called "Fatso" was out and about with his homies no doubt
Driving down the ride so happily and calm
But a mile down the road came Fatso with his hoes
The boy stepped out of his car onto the sidewalk standing afar
Fatso and the crew drive by quite slowly and out come the guns shooting bullets not low-key
The boy cries loudly as blood splurges from his body
Just a young guy about to die he began to ask "Why, Fatso, why?"
Bullet holes in his body tightly spread in his shotty
The boy in the ground now begging for mercy
Praying to God that he might stop hurting me
Dead and gone, Fatso still angry with a name like his
He didn't like to do it but he needed to complete his biz
niss
Fatso drove away, the boy died quickly,
A sad day to insult, as Fatso yelled "Don't **** with me."
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
"You are late"
Said the so full of fact
Business Studies Teacher
Nicked, "Mrs Fatso".
It's like
her account's green
turns red
On the account of
Leke's grin
I'm terrified
At why Leke is never
terrified!
Cos as soon as
that was said about
Grand Pa
We saw him
no more
And from what I saw
in the poster
He changed his first name
to the same
-Pastorlee
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 8:28 PM UTC
in passing through highways,
lined with stray trees, ordered erratic
I watch my secrets climb and branch out
as the leaves confluence together,
pondering on at our rush hour madness
I climb a mango tree in my childhood reverie
sitting atop along with a gaze into my future
a fatso, chomping belly full on deeds of my past
I hear the hopes in children talk
boundaries , shame , other human constructs
still haven't filled their muddy pockets
with eyes of wonder, lilies get attention
miracles are there for our seeking
the need to finish, conclude...
other futile human pursuits,
I hear how dogs yawn at our shams
the end of everything is
the beginning of something new
but we aren't there to witness
entrapped in our misery
prisoners to maps,
when the land lays bare before us
hypnotized by photographs
until the deterioration of participants
goes unnoticed
I hear
the bones inside me shout, claustrophobic
the dammed blood raging , release
untold ideas in icicles , impaled
I watch
the birds cross Atlantic , free
the universe in details, beauty
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
It's the same **** thing everyday. **** this life. I can't stand living anymore. I feel like curling up in a ball and dying. Maybe that's what I'll do. Maybe this is the last you hear of me. Not like anyone cares about a fatso loner loser nerd **** like me.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
she always found it easy to sleep on the train
the low vibration of the motor sent a shiver down her spine reminiscent of the one she got when her mother held her and whispered softly,
"it was just a sad dream, my sweetheart"
she wishes her nine-to-five didn't take up so much time
time she could have spent with her mother before stage five
she sleeps with the notion that maybe when she wakes up from her slumber, she will finally wake up from her
sad dream
he feels remorse for the fact that he can't sit in the normal train seats
but he enjoys the solitude
the passengers' probing judgement cannot penetrate through his
thick skin
he'd rather ride alone than next to one of the classmates that bullied him throughout high school
"fatty" "meatball" "fatso"
he hopes that they all get hit by public transportation
preferably public transportation that he's riding
sitting alone
the anxiety is suffocating him and
no one can see
and no one can help
and he's going to die
and he's going to die
and he's going to die
there's so much he hasn't done
there's so much he has to do
there's so much existing
and he's going to die
and he's going to die
and he's going to die
every term paper is shoved down his esophagus
every reading
every subway ride spent doing nothing
is going to **** him
and he's going to die
and he's going to die
and he's going to die
her eyebrows make her look angry
the arch is too high, she notices every morning
her cheekbones are too severe
she notices
her hair is always pulled back into a tight ponytail
every hair scraped back, flat to the scalp
she notices
but it's a choice
she has to demand things of people
and no one will take her seriously is she looks inviting
she notices
her boss stares at her *** for three and a half seconds whenever she bends over
she notices
her co-worker resents her because she got engaged and promoted in the same year
she notices
he doesn't understand
he came to this country hoping for so much more
but he doesn't understand
how anything works
how anyone functions
he doesn't understand
he takes the same train every morning because he's remembers it
but he doesn't understand it
he misses home, his real home
but this is better for him
isn't it?
she always sits in the window seat of the four-chaired section
whenever she doesn't, she is forced to stare at the ground
or make awkward eye contact with the grey faces
she likes the window seat
she stares blankly through the landscape surrounding the train
and she thinks
about how her nostalgia deepens her melancholy
about how everyone has tired of her humour and wit
about how the only thing she has is a shred of hope that someday she can make her mother proud
and she thinks
she thinks about everyone surrounding her on the train
what their stories are
she wonders if she'll ever know
and then she sleeps
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
Do you have any feelings?
Ask yourself honestly?
When you call someone fatso.
When you call someone a fool.
Do you have any feelings?
When you call someone skinny.
Or even a ****
Do you have any feelings?
We, who toss comments without a thought?
Must comprehends that someone will be hurt.
It can be a sad situation that you might not recover from.
When you realize the pain that it causes.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:11 PM UTC
you will have to trust that my parents entered the world after a long absence and that they brought with them no appetite large enough to entertain a child whose sole skill was to avoid being eaten. to continue beyond this point requires a lax diet of forgiveness. I cannot guarantee there won’t be those who will call to you from underwater, fatso. or from trees bowing to your weight. parents are the dark times we know of.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC
He's walking down the street.
He's walking like he's totally fine, but if you'd look better, you'd see the pain and suffering that linger within him.
He's walking down the street, enduring the same thing as always, people walking past him, either ignoring him, following him with their eyes or make comments: "Look at him haha", "Look at that fatso", "Hey fatty", "Look at how ugly he is".
Those are just some of the things he has to hear, usually followed up by people laughing at him for his looks.
If only someone would make me see or realise that I'm good just the way I look and am, then maybe, just maybe I'd enjoy being outside...
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
Fatso
You are and you aren’t
Whale
You are more than the labels they give you
Cow
It’s over now
Their insults cannot hurt you
Giant
You are not in middle school anymore
Ugly
They cannot hurt you anymore
Lard
You are a grown-ass woman
almost thirty,
unapologetically queer, hairy,
with curves and ******* and wide hips and pretty dips and
They cannot cypher their words,
syphon their insults by
relating you to a beautiful big creature
Cow, Whale, Lard, Fatso
What is a Lard but a singling
A bright beige soft nosed creature
with brownie eyes and long lashes
like a taper with a hooked nose
soft and long like an elephants
Flappy points of ears
that hear well
with tiny sharp teeth
like a land-locked manatee
or a furry caramel Beluga whale
Their insults only refer you to necessary creatures who give their life to feed you and their intellect to empower you
A Fatso is a bright blue animal that has shimmering rainbow wings (like a dragon) and thin curly white horns and milky grey eyes with a fabulous feathers and a fanned tail of royal purple that soars through the skit at light-speed and can bring the rain with its melodious cries
When they or you or they or you or
They are you you know
Insult you they are not insulting you
because a Lard and a Fatso are both such intelligent creatures
mystical and fervent
glorious and gargantuan
Large, yes
But beautiful all the same
They have sharp teeth and move through the earth or skies whenever and wherever they like
These animals have freedom
Just like how you have freedom
in how you think about yourself
which is
to think of yourself as
the sexist, prettiest, cutest
person alive
now isn’t that great?
now isn’t that grand?
You are gold plated and steel incorporated and glass blown and light shadows thrown and haggling heights and shaved delights and a hairy symphony and a harrowing city of sparkles that twinkle in the night.
You are beautiful
and might
just
save the world one day.
You are a mystical creature of the highest creed
and no one
can tell you
otherwise.
Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 9:30 PM UTC
It was the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Santa stole all of my stuff and he ran off with my spouse.
That fatso stole everything that I had.
I was shocked because Santa went bad.
All that he gave me for Christmas was the finger and some coal.
I decided to get even this morning when I went to the North Pole.
I gave his reindeers liquor and got them drunk.
When Santa started flying, his ship was sunk.
His reindeers crashed and Santa has a lot of broken bones.
And to add insult to injury, I pelted the punk with stones.
Now Santa is in the hospital in a body cast.
I got even for what he did one year in the past.
Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 12:09 PM UTC
Everyday life begins with the yelling from my father and then the screaming of my mother when the daily brawl begins...
Off to the bus I wait everyday whether it's raining, snowing or just plain sunny...
The bus arrives and I get on to take my seat...
The ridiculing begins the minute I sit down...
"Hey fatso!," one boy calls out...
"The elephant's here!," another snickers...
But I ignore them because there is nothing to be said...
Spending the rest of my day among people I don't know or care about...
Sitting through meaningless lectures that no one listens to anyway...
Back to the bus and ridiculing and then home...
The screaming has intensified since I left this morning...
It can be heard from the street...
I walk around back to my favorite tree and the box I left there the previous evening...
I open the box to find the one thing I've been looking forward to all day...
I climb into the tree as high as I can go...
The view is beautiful as I twist the knot in my hand...
The necklace envelopes my neck and then I'm swinging...
My final breath escapes my body as the last image I see flits through my mind...
The most beautiful sunset that I have ever seen...
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC