"funnier" poems
All I know is that some days I find myself curled up on the floor, eyes red, lips shaking, thinking that if I could, I would have given up on myself long ago.
So that is why I doubt you will love me. I cannot even love myself.
I must start off by saying I am a frustrating person.
You can swear I'm beautiful and that you'll never leave,
but I will not believe you.
Some days you will find me crying for no reason and think I am insane.
You are right.
I am a paradox. I am hot and cold, okay then shattered.
I am a roller-coaster ride, a wild, reckless soul with a heartbreaking past and demons in my mind.
Maybe I am looking for someone to save me, and maybe I am looking for someone to save. I haven't decided yet.
I am tied down by my fears and insecurities, plagued with bad memories that run through my mind every time someone says they love me.
How can you love a broken girl?
A girl who is not whole.
A girl who cannot even trust you because trusting always lead to heartbreak at the end of the day, feeling naive, played like a toy by the eyes of a beautiful boy.
A girl who is paranoid because she knows there are prettier, funnier, smarter, nicer girls, and she thinks she could never add up, and if you want only her, there must be some sorta catch.
And if you can get past these walls, break past the barriers I keep around to protect this damaged heart of mine, and you withstand every test I throw your way, if you stay even when I make you want to leave sometimes, just know that I will forever be yours, and I will hand over my battered heart in shaking hands, hoping it will be enough, hoping you will not break me even more.
We are two broken people, and together we will be whole.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
while I may do you perfectly. the snow angels on gasoline st., did you
see them? All of the houses were dripping wet too, one girl with gold laces on her leopard shoes wore red plastic pants; totally soaked to the bone.
to train ourselves to brave the heat of each others' bodies as we awaken in one small bed, one small blanket. the both of us yawn. it's so fun to make waffles but neither of us like to eat preference. I love you to death but prefer to brush my teeth alone- one tooth at a time.
embrace your new t-shirt, even though not everyone enjoys a good show of a flock of crows. hand drawn indie wicker-hipster prints. coffee by the pint. you crack me up like vitrifying glass sheens of the individual bubbles in a bubble bath or the ****** glazed eyes of the monsters' eye while a shark attacks.
creaky sounds of bodies mapped by fingers, tickled tummies rippled by listening to witch house singers. you crack me up, count chocula. It's Saturday, I love to laugh while laying down. everybody's funnier when they're laying on the ground. we toast to ghosts.
luminous lengths of birthday candles
lickediddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd d 0 y0urself as best you can
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
Hey
I’m sorry if I interrupted your class with text messages
because you hate putting your phone on silent
it’s just that I should be there with you
laughing at your confused faces during Calculus I and
staring at your look of sheer concentration during Creative Writing
You were always the poet, not me
But it’s 1pm and I’m stuck in Calculus with someone else as my partner
who doesn't get nearly as confused as you and puts me to shame
which ****** me off because you would never correct me in Calculus
and so I can’t help but wonder who your new partner is
Is she smarter
Is she funnier
Do you quote Shakespeare to her like you did to me?
Is she better than me?
There’s no doubt that a. I ******* it all up and that b. you’ll move on from me
because you were always the popular one, I was the antisocial outcast that most people barely
tolerated
For some unknown reason you decided to become my friend that faithful day in
Calculus I
and ever since then you became my 3am conversations and midnight laugh
I depended on you much more than you did on me
I cared so much more
and maybe that was my fatal flaw
because if I hadn't cared so much
then maybe I wouldn't feel like screaming and throwing my partner’s textbook
at the teacher
but I did
I cared too much; against all warnings not to and now I’m wrecked
then again, I always was in a way
I just didn't know it
You told me that it didn't matter
that they couldn't separate us; no matter what
that you would never let me go
and you kept your promise
but I can’t keep mine
The words “I’m sorry”
come to my head
but those aren't the right words
because I’m more than sorry
I’m bleeding
I’m crying
I’m devastated
I’m torn
I’m broken
and perhaps that’s why I can’t keep my
Okay?Okay promise to you
because no, I am not okay
and you deserve so much more
and this is not okay
me lying to you through a computer screen is
not okay
me putting my gashes of regret on my arm is
not okay
me making you wait only for you to find a fraction of the girl I was is
not okay
and that is why
today during Calculus I
I will finish this ****** poem
and excuse myself and go to the girls’ bathroom
and cry my eyes out after sending this to you
I should end this with a ‘goodbye’
because there’s no use giving you false hope
but I can’t bring myself to end there
so I’ll just say something
and hope that you still remember what it means
P.S. I’ll always love you
(h.l.)
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
This isn't a love that can be
Put on speaker phone.
We're far too silly for that.
Easily saying the first thing that
Comes to mind.
One moment to the next,
Stunned slience.
Phone etiquette thrown out the window.
This isn't a love that can be sat down.
Kept between an ear and a shoulder.
The amount of time it takes for someone to leave the room.
Conducted in civil manner.
Attempting not to shout,
Completely losing train of thought.
Not sure of validation,
Our voices raise a bit.
By now you should know we shouldn't have to limit ourselves like that.
Denying a freedom that connects us to whom we truly are.
Our quirks, general weirdness.
The crazy looks from those around.
The laughs that get funnier each moment that passes.
By now you should know that we are the complete definition of crazy.
Often appearing in person,
Before one of us can hang up.
Laughing hysterically,
Continuing the conversation
At any given time or place.
This definately isn't a love that
Can be placed on speaker phone
If we have to applogize for what we say.
Afraid to be who we really are.
Isolated from who we truly are
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
I miss you
And you aren’t even gone yet
From experience
I know how this will end
One day you will find someone new
Meet someone prettier
You’ll slowly slip away
All while denying anything is wrong
When you look into her eyes
You will see a future
When you look in my eyes
You see lust and desire
There is no future for us here
So why do I let myself fall in love anyway?
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 4:55 AM UTC
I can see why,
you chose her.
She's much more prettier than me.
She's much more funnier than me.
She's much more smarter than me.
She's much more cuter than me.
She's much more skinnier than me.
She's just much more than me.
I guess I'll never be more to you.
(e.i)
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 12:48 PM UTC
Dust flowers up from the Chilton County dusk
Rust is flaking off the pickup that has a skunk musk
Bullet , the blue tick hound from your sleeve pulls it
Could it be another hot day in August , would it ?
Peaches have last month gone to fill the niches
Beaches at the river are low , full of leeches
Summertime in Alabama is a long ******
Funnier than that song , swing low number
Gathering distant dark blue clouds that are a mattering
Battering thunder rolling , lightning shattering
Huge drops splattering on clay so Rouge
Deluge now soaking , coming down like a luge
Passing with one loud Crack blasting
Massing clouds now are just in a fasting
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
I don't miss you.
I miss being held really tight.
I don't miss you,
I miss having someone to sleep beside at night.
I don't miss you,
I miss being kissed sweetly.
I miss hearing someone say they love me.
I miss laughing together,
I miss arguing about who was funnier.
I miss being myself with someone else,
I miss having someone who knew me so well.
But I don't miss you.
I don't miss being ignored,
I don't miss wondering if I was truly yours,
I don't miss finding naked pictures of other girls,
I don't miss you acting so bored.
I don't miss your hurtful words,
I don't miss the broken oaths you swore.
I don't miss you.
I miss your deep blue eyes though,
They were so calming.
I miss you giving me the fluffier pillow,
A small gesture, but it wasn't wasted on me.
I miss your kisses on my forehead and nose.
I miss your laugh, your smile,
I cherished those.
I missed you singing to me,
Such a terrible voice- I found it so comforting.
I miss the hands that held mine,
I miss how our bodies intertwined,
I miss seeing the love in your eyes.
Maybe I do…
No. I can't miss you.
You don't miss me.
Being hung up on you would make me vulnerable, weak.
Something I can't allow myself to be.
That's how boys like you hurt girls like me.
I don't miss you, really
I miss who I thought you were,
not who you turned out to be.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
Flatulence breeds laughter
Come smile with me, as I sing you a song;
About God's little gift, to every man.
For we all like to laugh and forget all our worries
And we all like to laugh, whenever we can.
At a worldwide problem which just can't be solved;
Of epidemic proportions, it affects us all.
It's the funniest thing known, but embarrassing too;
But the louder the funnier, as long as it's not you.
It's flatulence! It's one big ****
It's a stinky little number and it came from my ****
It's flatulence! It's one big ****
It's a stinky little number written straight from the heart.
It's flatulence! It's one big ****
It's a stinky little number and it came from my ****
It's flatulence! It's one big ****
La, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la,
La, lahh!
Who dropped that off? Who left us a present?
Who smells that bad? Come on! Who the Hell is it?
God **** that's bad, something smells like it's died.
You filled my lungs with a sickness, you brought a tear to my eye;
You made me wish I was a dog and I had no nose,
Then when you'd tell them of my story,
They'd say how does he smell?
(shout) AWFUL!
It's flatulence! It's one big ****
It's a stinky little number and it came from my ****
It's flatulence! It's one big ****
It's a stinky little number written straight from the heart.
It's flatulence! It's one big ****
It's a stinky little number and it came from my ****
It's flatulence! It's one big ****
La, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la,
La, lahh!
Well it's time to end this song,
With no more bad **** jokes in sight.
It's time to wander on,
With just a trumpety, trump; goodnight.
(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
I suppose that I should be writing about the pencil itself, how its pale cerulean self lights up my taupe desk (yes, taupe.), or perhaps how the navy stamps that embellish it bleed a little at the sides
smeared, or even the sheer fact that it says "hoppy Easter"with little bunnies on it, which is ironic because it is January.
(and even funnier because the little bunnies look like demons waiting to pounce on your soul, slightly feline...feline bunnies?)
But no.
I sing instead the song of that metal thing at the end of the pencil, crimped like a tin can stuck in a sixties hair salon--the small item that sort of resembles Darth Vader; the metal thing that, when you think about it, you never notice; the thing that holds the eraser in place and the lead in the wood, and the wood in a line, the line for your pencil holder at the top of your desk (your taupe desk) that you write on and without writing you'd die...
Without life you don't exist.
I sing to the tiny piece of metal that is out of place, yet holds the world as we know it together. Because in a way, I know how it feels to bridge together two elements; two worlds, if you will.
It's a difficult task indeed to hold it all together. And I realize, staring at the satanic rabbits adorning my writing utensil that this thing doesn't have a name.
Dec 22, 2009
Dec 22, 2009 at 6:16 PM UTC
They call me Dr.Strange because I don't thrive from the same ambition as the rest of my generation
I don't desire to **** every **** thing that walks and breathes
I was never a fan of getting high and skipping school
Hell the worse I've done is beat a ngga's *** for making a girl bleed
Yeah I'm so ******* hood, badass if you would
A permant resident of wish a ***** woods
Where we specialize in the art of whoop ***
But at the same time I am kind
As gentle as a cotton ball
I will protect those who cannot protect themselves
Instead of being that coward who is left asking what if
But don't get my kindness twisted thinking you can trample all over my tiny self
Stomping me into the ******* ground as if I'm some type seed
But if you still have the urge to try me get this image in your head
I will make sure my weeded foot travels up your *** and out of your mouth
I will not be afraid to rain down the scorching sensation of the hurt all over your flesh and bones
Causing you to sprout like a god **** bean stock as I just smile walking the opposite way
It is sad ****** these days try so hard to pretend to be all bad-ass, talking so much **** I don't know whether to give them tissue or breath mint
Then what makes it even funnier they beat on these young girls thinking it makes them look tough
But in actuality it makes them look that much more of a ******* to society
**** is this really what male *** have come down to
A mere nuisance to society
A nation of fuckboys and male hoes
Is that what we are really aiming for
sigh wow I wonder what I'll have for dinner tonight
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
we present ourselves as perfect manuscripts
nobody sees the crumpled rough drafts and messy handwriting
scattered around the bedroom carpet at home.
nobody has seen the way i've
scratched out parts of myself
that didn't fit into the high school mold
then the parts that didn't fit into my suitcase when i moved away from home
nobody has seen the revisions i've made
do i sound too formal, am i too quiet, do i need to be a little bit funnier in order to be considered acceptable art?
i've thrown entire scenes of my life into the trash
because i don't want anybody to see them and i am ashamed
i sit for hours staring at blank pages wondering how anyone could ever find me interesting enough to spend time with
do you ever feel that way, too?
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 2:56 PM UTC
i doubt you know how much you mean to me.
If you did you'd be too creeped out to still be dating me.
But to me, you mean the world.
Not the "i'm nothing without you" kind, as I am a valid human being.
Not the "i can't go on if you leave" kind either as i know i could.
But i would really rather not.
Nor could i happily.
You're my world in the way that you make me a better person.
You are why i stay healthy when all i have is a cold.
You're why i drive safe and limit the stupid angsty **** i do
(believe it or not it is limited).
You're a good influence.
You're everything i wish i was and all that beachy ********
But you're so much more.
When i am lost you're my guide
(rife with dat symbolism)
needed more after i got GPS oddly.
When i can't think you're my muse.
You're my companion in this world whether you realize that or not.
The hotter, smarter, funnier,
more responsible, more beautiful half of me.
A liver half is enough to live but to live well it is best for a full one.
To continue this bad metaphor i am living well.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
It's easy to be the
Life of the party.
You just drink more
Than everyone else.
You just tell funnier
Jokes and make more
Cups in beer pong but
Always finish your side-beer.
You be the one always
Yelling for more shots
And know all the rules
To kings cup.
You always lose
Never-have-I-ever,
And you're the go-to
Man for flip cup.
People talk about you
When you aren't there
"He drinks too much
But **** he's awesome."
When they want low-key,
You aren't invited.
But you have your
Other parties anyway.
Slam back beers
Red faced groggy eyed
Throw up just to
Start over again.
Drive home still drunk
To wake up still alone
And do it all
Over again.
Yeah, its easy to be
The life of the party
When you're the
Only one there.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 12:59 PM UTC
i couldn't stand the heat,
spent most of the time in the shade,
everyone made fun
of the guy standing by the pool
reading a book, pretending to
be a sundial;
i was called the whiskey-man;
one night i slept outside
and by the time i woke up my glass
of brandy disappeared;
mingled with the "auctioneers"
of a good time; boy one of those
kenyan girls was hot... oomph,
she looked like oiled coal, slimy bits
and raw ***
i know i was a tourist...
played a stupid drinking game with
two english girls, snogged one
at the end of the game, wasn't invited
back to the room for a *********
spent hours at night looking at the tide
splashing the shore, cried at the painting
so alive all the museums and galleries
became graveyards of appreciation;
it was a holiday resort, i admit,
although one bartender asked me to do
a local tour of the place, go clubbing,
supposedly a colonial ******* i was
upon first reading;
but the heat though! god almighty, couldn't
stand the temperature,
i was literally an ice-cream cone most
of the time, took to the shades,
wrote a short story for my grandfather
about an elephant dunking his trunk into
a bottle of brandy...
one day got chatting to a scottish pair
and a russian couple,
told the scottish guy about travis' 12 memories
album,
i was originally asking for a cigarette,
so we drank and chatted about mickey mouse
politics of america...
the scottish guy eventually ran off and jumped
into the kids' shallow pool veering
on blind-drunk-happy...
another time i too jumped into a pool
with my clothes on...
******* this heat...
ha, hmm, those kenyan macaques were funny
esp. on prompt of being fed on the balcony...
but boy that baboon was a menace,
a real anarchist, charged in like a donkey
with meningitis and stole food...
although one baboon had massive haemorrhoids...
and given his fat pinky *** it was even funnier to watch.
oh yeah, and this guy muhammad wanted
to take me to a crocodile sanctuary of his...
i sort of refused the invitation,
and no, i didn't go on the zoological escapade
of a safari to see the Masai tribesmen...
just gave c. g. jung's modern man in search of soul
to one of the caretakers of the resort.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
There's not much funnier than a ****
It's immature, I know, to start,
So many styles of wind to pass,
Gas blowing out your smelly ****
Some high in pitch, a squeaky door,
Or quiet and deadly, so much more,
Dare we pull the offered finger?
A nasty trick we will remember,
Always makes your children squeal,
But never ever loses it's appeal,
When you meet a brand new partner,
It takes a while to **** in front of her,
When farting terms are established yes,
It's far more intimate, than ***
It matters not, just where you be,
You need to let your wind go free,
You might think that I am obscene,
But we all do it, yes, even the Queen,
So lighten up, and have some fun,
And blast some air out of your ***
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
"You fight like a girl"
Men seem all confident, strong and macho and what not
but the moment this phrase strikes their ears,
they all get offended, turn into cry babies & start defending their so called manhood
I have seen this with my own eyes,
and I seriously cant remember how many times
Its funny how society has turned women into synonym for weakness
when the same women's strength to push them out of their bodies is their gateway to life
& its funnier how they think they are superior just because of that little thing between their legs
And its the same men who cant find their own socks without their wife
Its funny how men who worship their mothers
often forget to respect the girls who walk down the alley
And Its funnier how its the woman who leaves her family
but has to live like she owes her life to the man she marries
Its funny how a to-be-mother carries her baby for 9 months
building a life out of matter
but the moment it comes out of the womb, its given the name of just the father
Its more funny how we talk about getting rid of gender roles
yet look at a woman with disgrace when you find out she doesn't cook.
And the funniest of all is
how we blabber about these civilisation & equality tricks
and blame women for dressing too ******
but forget to tell the men to calm their *****
And yet a woman stands there strong
Fighting through all these odds
as if being born a female was her biggest mistake of all
And still. Still, the most insulting phrase men find to throw at each others
is," Dude You fight like a girl!"
And this is my only message, to all those macho men who use that golden phrase
Maybe thinking, it makes them sound manlier somehow
"If he really fought like a girl, trust me bruh, You d be dead by now."
---------------------------------------------------------
"Fight like a girl, Yes I do, And if you dare be that strong, you would too" ~ Kakareikan
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
you look so much fuckin' prettier with that **** in your mouth,
funnier, cuter, smarter while you're chuggin' 'em down,
"flirtatious and irresistible, everyone wants you around",
fuckin' hangover princess, here, we bought you a crown.
lie after lie, truth swirling around in the toilet,
begging for his affection, on your knees and exploited,
stripped of your dignity then try to say you enjoyed it?
that's funny, the **** you talk the next day proves all that's ********
was nice and respectful, of course you thought that was swell,
loved you for you but you didn't want my help,
tried to do to me what you fuckin' did to yourself,
i'm over it, we're not friends, **** you, go to hell.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
Trouble has its own number.
This prank would be funnier
if you were by my side
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
We drink to forget the day to day routine's we have locked ourselves into.
We drink to remember the better days but if we drink too much it just makes it worse.
We drink to get rid of the nerves and hope it makes us charming and funny.
He asked me out for drink; so we drank.
He was beautiful in a classy way.
I loved his hair and those bright eyes and the drinks made him funnier then he was but I liked how he tried.
He told me stories about Christmas when he was ten.
He told me about his scars and his weird quirks people don't tend to notice.
He asked me for drinks and so, I drank.
I didn't tell him about Christmas when I was ten because my Christmas was filled with anger and screaming from my mother.
I didn't tell him about my scars because they came from drunken nights and fights with myself.
I didn't tell him about my quirks because I didn't have to tell him, he just seemed to know.
He told me I was quiet, something no one has ever told me before.
I smiled shyly and ordered another drink.
He grabbed my hand at the bar and I thought, wow, this is nice.
I also thought... how sad that a simple gesture can make me so self conscience and so sad.
How holding a beautiful, nice, and funny mans hand makes me think I am unworthy of such love.
And, so, I drank.
To forget.
To remember.
To... try and not self sabotage the possibility of a love that could last.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 4:17 PM UTC
Funny how I swore;
not to lose my mind,
if you ever leave;
Funnier how
I didn't know;
that it is the heart;
that'll go missing.
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 12:20 PM UTC
maybe if I was funnier
he wouldn't have left
maybe if I was prettier
he would've been happy
maybe if I dressed better
he would've needed me
maybe if I was smarter
he would've wanted me
maybe if I was graceful
he would've been proud of me
maybe if I loved him more
he would've loved me
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC