"fucki" poems - Hello Poetry

my subject, mrs. ((brown?)) for this speech is going to be: obesity. ish. you see I remember the article you handed out to us, loos-leafed, fresh-pressed, a dry white piece that told, in simplest terms, the most inarguable & bland facts about !healthy eating & !weight loss! but mrs ((whatever)), I want to tell n and the entire ******* crisp class, that obesity is a load of steaming **** from someone who’s really fucki ng sick (you know how much better it stinks then) that obesity was made to be glorified, I don’t tell you this— I ****** jiggle it to you, grab my santa clause puch and shove it at you-- tick tock we wait for the clock to tell us what s to come, except it makes us guess --see this: a mid-age woman, mother, fat & previously fat, goes in for stabbing pain in the chest, or chronic diarrhea, seeing stars & no energy left. ((this happens)) the doctor says, well let’s weigh you n see if you’ve lost the weight I told you to lose before remember Sharol now Sharol..,,,, sweety….. you weigh 55.62 lbs over the state-set “healthy limit”k, so we’re just gonna give u these diet pills & I promise they work,. all nach-yer-awl u see, none of that waterweight ******** [! excuse my language] and in about 3 months you’ll lose half that overweight, and I promise the starsll go away and you’ll feel right tip top okay now that’ll be $60 & come bac k in a month to tell me how much you’ve lost okay haha but that’s alrightright? she was unhealthy & doctors make you healthy only her brain cancer maybe, or like, colon cancer or literally anything other obesity kills her in about 3 months bc the **** doctor would only pretend that she cared what was wrong with Sharol, sweety…,,, im sharol and so are you and so is your uncle & so is your mother, probably because most of us are “obese” & the only cure for obesity is the cure for the term “obesity” you see

0

May 3, 2016

May 3, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC

clementzobel

Obesity

my subject, mrs. ((brown?)) for this speech is going to be: obesity. ish. you see I remember the article you handed out to us, loos-leafed, fresh-pressed, a dry white piece that told, in simplest terms, the most inarguable & bland facts about !healthy eating & !weight loss! but mrs ((whatever)), I want to tell n and the entire ******* crisp class, that obesity is a load of steaming **** from someone who’s really fucki ng sick (you know how much better it stinks then) that obesity was made to be glorified, I don’t tell you this— I ****** jiggle it to you, grab my santa clause puch and shove it at you-- tick tock we wait for the clock to tell us what s to come, except it makes us guess --see this: a mid-age woman, mother, fat & previously fat, goes in for stabbing pain in the chest, or chronic diarrhea, seeing stars & no energy left. ((this happens)) the doctor says, well let’s weigh you n see if you’ve lost the weight I told you to lose before remember Sharol now Sharol..,,,, sweety….. you weigh 55.62 lbs over the state-set “healthy limit”k, so we’re just gonna give u these diet pills & I promise they work,. all nach-yer-awl u see, none of that waterweight ******** [! excuse my language] and in about 3 months you’ll lose half that overweight, and I promise the starsll go away and you’ll feel right tip top okay now that’ll be $60 & come bac k in a month to tell me how much you’ve lost okay haha but that’s alrightright? she was unhealthy & doctors make you healthy only her brain cancer maybe, or like, colon cancer or literally anything other obesity kills her in about 3 months bc the **** doctor would only pretend that she cared what was wrong with Sharol, sweety…,,, im sharol and so are you and so is your uncle & so is your mother, probably because most of us are “obese” & the only cure for obesity is the cure for the term “obesity” you see

74

I am sitting in an empty space that is not mine I hate this space I am cramped and it's almost too stuffy to breathe and as I sit in this detested seat out of range of understanding others' speaking I am raging inside The rage is building and has nowhere to go I am sick sick SICK of speaking an d not being heard like every **** thing I say doesn't mean **** to anybody I say the same fucki ng thing five times in a row and even then I'm not really heard with understanding There's hardl y any recognition that I have even bothered to open my mouth God forbid my opinion have any standing anywhere on anything until somebody realizes too late that I already said this was goin g to happen And I write these words and I know that if they are read they will still be misunderst ood Even if they are comprehended by someone willing to read them And this just makes the rag e boil harder in the pit of my stomach I feel sick I don't know why I even try It's so pitiful It's the f act that I understand that I am never heard or listened to that keeps me from speaking now. I can 't say these words. But I guess that's the reason I can let them flow onto paper and take frustration out on anybody who chooses to read what I have to say. My pain in my silence is the only thing reminding me that in this case, my pain is my silence, better in than out, because nobody gives a **** and it doesn't matter anyways.

0

Oct 19, 2012

Oct 19, 2012 at 8:11 AM UTC

michelle-s

If Rage Had a Face

I am sitting in an empty space that is not mine I hate this space I am cramped and it's almost too stuffy to breathe and as I sit in this detested seat out of range of understanding others' speaking I am raging inside The rage is building and has nowhere to go I am sick sick SICK of speaking an d not being heard like every **** thing I say doesn't mean **** to anybody I say the same fucki ng thing five times in a row and even then I'm not really heard with understanding There's hardl y any recognition that I have even bothered to open my mouth God forbid my opinion have any standing anywhere on anything until somebody realizes too late that I already said this was goin g to happen And I write these words and I know that if they are read they will still be misunderst ood Even if they are comprehended by someone willing to read them And this just makes the rag e boil harder in the pit of my stomach I feel sick I don't know why I even try It's so pitiful It's the f act that I understand that I am never heard or listened to that keeps me from speaking now. I can 't say these words. But I guess that's the reason I can let them flow onto paper and take frustration out on anybody who chooses to read what I have to say. My pain in my silence is the only thing reminding me that in this case, my pain is my silence, better in than out, because nobody gives a **** and it doesn't matter anyways.

15

laugh imagine us but not us . like seperated by something like a mouth [i guess] with teeth sharp and eyes red and yellow surrounding ^suffocating me me me you plus me we could fuse in2 1 thing one being like an abs sense of it love only desire or the pavlov relfelx in ur [my] throat when u gag on me it with crying tears of blood and ***** on the carpet on mey feet nthne then they/ we we do it agian and aign and agn on the bed counter even floor ground til ur crying and i would 2 if i could i swear to god if i could eve-n ******* cnsdr HIM as real as that " i love u " but its mor of a question than an answer mor of a randm assmont of symbols (&_%etc) than a [CENSORED]. but her e u r. breathing my air nd wartring my skin with bruisez or **** ,tears ,blood just u u liquify and injeced into m y-v e in s .ha. ha ha ha. ... lafwith me cuz nothing is fucki n rea a l . . . / s oon .

0

Oct 7, 2021

Oct 7, 2021 at 1:16 PM UTC

j-the-computer

polygon2

laugh imagine us but not us . like seperated by something like a mouth [i guess] with teeth sharp and eyes red and yellow surrounding ^suffocating me me me you plus me we could fuse in2 1 thing one being like an abs sense of it love only desire or the pavlov relfelx in ur [my] throat when u gag on me it with crying tears of blood and ***** on the carpet on mey feet nthne then they/ we we do it agian and aign and agn on the bed counter even floor ground til ur crying and i would 2 if i could i swear to god if i could eve-n ******* cnsdr HIM as real as that " i love u " but its mor of a question than an answer mor of a randm assmont of symbols (&_%etc) than a [CENSORED]. but her e u r. breathing my air nd wartring my skin with bruisez or **** ,tears ,blood just u u liquify and injeced into m y-v e in s .ha. ha ha ha. ... lafwith me cuz nothing is fucki n rea a l . . . / s oon .

1

It's been a while, Since i drunk so much. These days, my drug is just the smile, I lay down, it's my new crutch. I miss the days, that were softly red, I miss the feeling of wanting dead. My life is sore, but not so much more. I wish, I wish I knew where to go. Just sit in my calm place now, meadow. It was all a lie, I told myself. Instead, I put it on a higher shelf. Do these feelings last? Or do they simply pass. I'm asking, not enquiring something something requiring, some strength and love, is not enough, especially from above. Was I always destined, To be your friend or be your foe? I do wish to answer, however, although.... I dont know, what to think no more. I feel empty not just sore. I feel like I've lost myself, I ask for help I asked for help I ask for... No more than the ordinary person. Why can't I write how I used to? Why can't I write only in pain. Why can't I write when I'm feeling sane. What is this curse? What is this verse, could it be any worse? I feel so numb, Down to my thumb. I feel like I've lost my brain. I feel so alone, Yet I feel not alone. I feel like I've lost again.

0

Sep 2, 2020

Sep 2, 2020 at 9:35 AM UTC

Evie-Weevie

Fucki amirite?

It's been a while, Since i drunk so much. These days, my drug is just the smile, I lay down, it's my new crutch. I miss the days, that were softly red, I miss the feeling of wanting dead. My life is sore, but not so much more. I wish, I wish I knew where to go. Just sit in my calm place now, meadow. It was all a lie, I told myself. Instead, I put it on a higher shelf. Do these feelings last? Or do they simply pass. I'm asking, not enquiring something something requiring, some strength and love, is not enough, especially from above. Was I always destined, To be your friend or be your foe? I do wish to answer, however, although.... I dont know, what to think no more. I feel empty not just sore. I feel like I've lost myself, I ask for help I asked for help I ask for... No more than the ordinary person. Why can't I write how I used to? Why can't I write only in pain. Why can't I write when I'm feeling sane. What is this curse? What is this verse, could it be any worse? I feel so numb, Down to my thumb. I feel like I've lost my brain. I feel so alone, Yet I feel not alone. I feel like I've lost again.

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