"gossips" poems
My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.
Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.
While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and ****
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.
41.2k
As i walk down the hall many people i see
Different lives are lived so different are we
from each other
She's happy, he's mad
That kid is suicidal
we no not of others peoples life yet we think we do
what good does someone else's life do to yours
we are all different with different lives
He has tattoos she is well dressed
one might be extremely nice while the other
gossips of her friends
Again what does someone else life have to do with yours
is your life not exciting enough that you
must talk of someone else's
If so what a sorry life you must live.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
Allah was his ears
As sounds unlawful, unethical it never heard.
Secrets, gossips and rumours were also barred.
It buzzed with words of Quran day and night
Always Open to sounds just and upright.
Allah was his eyes
As it looked parents, orphans and needy with love
Brimmed with tears thinking of Almighty above
It never despised his brother and from lust it was freed.
Gold and silver had no worth and had no signs of greed.
Allah was his hands
As it stopped things reprehensible with force
In Allah's cause spent abundantly his resource
It caressed the head of an orphan in affection.
Time and again meekly raised it in supplication.
Allah was his feet
As it never moved towards things which Allah hate
Avoided walking arrogantly with a strutting gait
It always ran to help downtrodden, oppressed.
For knowledge for light it was on constant quest.
He had mountains of obligatory good deeds
He had mountains of non-obligatory good deeds
His protector was Allah The Almighty
His enemy was enemy of Allah The Almighty
He was beloved of Allah
He was friend of Allah
He was Wali of Allah
He was Waliullah.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
by Arcassin burnham
she carried on
when she didnt have any strength,
and all the rumors was stopping her from
from talking to hank,
the boy in third grade class
that she had eyes for,
long hair and think glasses,
and she thought she ugly before,
confidence grew inside
like a new brain cell,
forgetting all the gossips
can nobody stop the sight of prevail,
and nothing would me more proud,
and nothing would me more proud
you finally got the guy you wanted,
nothing would make me more proud,
nothing would make me more proud,
told you could make it,
just like i promised.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 12:00 PM UTC
A woman who writes feels too much,
those trances and portents!
As if cycles and children and islands
weren't enough; as if mourners and gossips
and vegetables were never enough.
She thinks she can warn the stars.
A writer is essentially a spy.
Dear love, I am that girl.
A man who writes knows too much,
such spells and fetiches!
As if erections and congresses and products
weren't enough; as if machines and galleons
and wars were never enough.
With used furniture he makes a tree.
A writer is essentially a crook.
Dear love, you are that man.
Never loving ourselves,
hating even our shoes and our hats,
we love each other, precious, precious.
Our hands are light blue and gentle.
Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
But when we marry,
the children leave in disgust.
There is too much food and no one left over
to eat up all the weird abundance.
6.7k
what were they thinking, as I am here and still working
with four months to go and knowing there is no improvement
to be noticed and only betrayal after betrayal
and I've never been done so ***** as at this place
whose management thinks we are making 10 figures
and wheels and deals and has a blonde obnoxious secretary
who gossips and no I don't fit in because this is absurd and I am
reminded how a nasty person can ruin anything
a meal in Paris at a restaurant hundreds of years old
and a crabby old man who was my father in law and his
horrible girlfriend and we sat in this fancy place and I could
only think I wish my husband and I had gone out alone to McDonald's tonight
because we would be free of this hateful presence
or maybe we had just bought a loaf of bread and some cheese and at it
walking down the Champs Elysses, or maybe just starvation
would be better than these people and here I am again
in a perfect little "green" brand new school and I think it
is definitely located in the middle of hell and not surrounded
by wineries and fields and wealth
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC
I don't have a best friend
Not to be mistaken with having no friends
I do have some friends
But I have to the conclusion that they aren't trustworthy
Instead, they are rather demanding
They have seen me laugh
and be funny
Talk about silly mistakes
and how others make me feel
They know that I don't have anyone in my life
and my unwillingness to dance
What they don't know
is that every day I fight
with myself
Not with scratches, blades and pins
But with my soul within
They don't know what I have been through
They have never seen the bruises still blue
They don't know
They just assume
They are not there when I am begging to up above
They are not there when I need a little love
They are not there when I have been crying for hours
They are not there when I feel like dying in the shower
Gossips and lame stuff is what they share
I continue to listen while the music continues to blare
There were many
who became my best friends over the years
Losing touch with them is what I feared
Then that's what happened
Sooner or later they forgot me
Phone calls became rarer
and Facebook our home.
Till today, I stand without a best friend
Because I know I am whole
I am a winner
who stands alone.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
They'll find me hanging upside-down.
Ankles bruised by the ropes
From which you strung me up for field dressing.
Lacerations where you’d cut my throat,
Bled me dry, spilt my guts,
And broke past my ribs, to uproot my heart.
Can they carbon date the remains of my reputation?
Trace the ****** back to your mouth?
Will they know the cause of death to be the
Malignant rumors you couldn’t help but spew?
Your false words: the final nail in my coffin.
Do you regret ever letting them past your lips?
Slowly, my reputation crippled by the aggressive
Cancer that was your embellished utterance.
And it didn’t bother you in the slightest.
You marveled at the sight of my struggle.
And amazing how these things seem to spread.
One caustic, contagious, breath from you was all it took.
Though the slanderous virus wouldn't make it 'til morning;
Addicts to their fix; gossips, crave your empty words.
Like ******* the rush is intense but brief.
Interest fleeting, they move on.
Off to the next peddler.
For all these inconveniences, I thank you.
Thank you for lifting the masks that curtained your distorted self.
How blind I must have been not to see it outright.
Another leech, feeding on slighted words.
And to think; all it costed you to buy in
Was me...
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
Her love, her modesty, behold her grace
That shine let shine be on her face.
A friend, a enemy let ever be too,
May her company to let me flew.
Her desires, her sacrifices are neglected, i think,
That she was hiding her tears to blink.
Her beauty her modesty behold her grace,
That shine let shine be on her face.
Her mummering, her talkings, her chinese gossips,
Forced me to think about her twisted thinkings.
She was, she is, she will be unique,
Smart one, dreamed one, thats on the peak.
Her beauty, her modesty behold her grace,
That shine let shine be on her face,
That shine let shine be on her face.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
An airplane crashes into an uncharted island and hundreds of people die in the burning debris, and somewhere a group of boys and girls are taking selfies as they stand next to a burning office building.
Thousands of teenagers sit on the couch and eat ice cream until the buttons on their pants explode off.
Kids light themselves on fires as if they were monks from the Tiananmen Square, trying to gain acceptance, their dreams of stardom translated through a series of YouTube comments.
We can't afford books for college because the tuition is ridiculous, but these glossy tabloid magazines are only a few bucks; pick one to set the course of your life.
Middle-aged people spend their lives indoors, away from the thirsty, hungry, withering children, and check how many likes did their photos receive on their smartphones.
Pornographic images in front of our tired faces, our eyes locked to the screen and we do not blink as our memories become embedded with objectification.
So we don't look up and see the chaos transpiring.
Cat memes and colorful gifs hold our attention while our parents slave away at their boomerang-shaped desks, trapped in clustered cubicles.
I saw a post on Facebook of a girl who was sexually assaulted at a house party and now her name was being hashtagged and kids were posing in photographs, laying on the floor, legs and arms sprawled out, left and right, trying to mimic the injustice.
We swipe right to find our future hookups, but what if our future husbands and wives were on the left?
Society spends millions of dollars on drinks to numb our conscience, until our brain cells are wretched like the homeless guy on the street corner drinking liquor from a coffee mug.
Israel and Palestine battle each other day after day while our generation gossips about Solange Knowles beating up Jay-Z with her patent leather purse as if that news conquers every other bit of information out there.
The world will always be corrupt, but it suffers more from the apathy that belongs to us.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 7:56 PM UTC
The curtain opens, and I am lit alone.
Chagrin is my monologue.
On opera balconies, giggling wraiths shield themselves from my humorless improvisation.
Served on a platter, I am on stage, eyes squeezing out precious salt, holding my hands over my red-tipped ears as they still roast from the taunts of my imagination's cruel gossips, who sit, deliberately carving into my breast, intending to cut out my breath. Jabbering, with ***** claws clasping at tarnished silverware.
I stammer and my throat begins to hang itself with a velvet string and cat-gut noose.
I sweat, clothed by the filth of makeup, menstrual blood, and leftover food stains. Palms held up, dramatically surrendering on the condition that mercy be extended, for they have seen my miserable condition and that it is me. The cloying stench of uncertainty and greasy hair envelops me.
I cannot kneel, for the coals on which I stand,
make me suffer more from the pressure.
No water in my heels to soothe this felon.
I cannot provoke or endure, my performance is to be left early. Hume would not grant me fame.
If you have a heart, do not waste ink or time or money on me. I am a clot of blood, clogged in the sink. I will die in a ***** bed and no one will care, not even myself.
I just wish it will be swift and fleeting if it is painful.
Hoping harder, I am not remembered as a miserable girl, the way I am.
So, sing violins, and let me swing for the cannibals.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
So many songs to love you
So many gossips to hate you
I hear one thing, I felt another
I'm still in that summer
You sang your first song in dinner
I'm waiting here, despite the odds
That's all I can do
To be young and to be loved
By the songs you sang for your fans
Yes! all those thoughts brought us apart
There is nothing left to do
But to kiss once again
There's nothing for you to rue
Unless the beauty, the passion
Now you up to...…
In the next Cold season
When we find our lovers.
So Don't go far away
I'll be waiting for you
At the empty station
Where no one calls your name...….
May 29, 2021
May 29, 2021 at 4:36 AM UTC
They ravaged her body, her spirit never healed
The day she was abused was the day she was killed.
They probed the incident; it was just another case,
It really mattered little, the shame on her face.
Tongues kept rolling, gossips with spice,
She invited it; she was a woman with vice.
Her looks lured them, the way she dressed,
She was also flirty, reasons to be disgraced.
Her pity was a story, her agony in courtroom
Scattered lay her life, in the darkness of doom.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 4:22 AM UTC
You send up clouds of deepest dark despair,
And with my dancing i tried to repair.
While i dance in the light of the coming day.
All of those hearts strings broken will end and fray.
Pull back the cover and bare all to see,
Let my hands cover and retain delicate dignity.
This initimacy that belongs to you and me,
I will protect in every eventuality.
You present all to the world and its busy lover,
But never think of me laying beside you in your cover.
For the cameras flash and beauty bleeds.
And captions raise while gossips feed.
"Who are you to touch an untouchable perfection?"
"Your love corrupts like squalid infection."
"Another man to take the trophy,"
As they **** you in some catastrophy.
A plastic heart that splinters violently,
As he is left in jilted unmatching harmony.
Alone again, you sell your story,
To another scavanger that feeds on memory.
The tale thats told,
Leaves you broken and old.
While the lover lives bold,
In his world of hollywood gold.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:21 PM UTC
MEMO
FROM: Mr Phil Indifrence, Strategy Chess Insurgency Corps.
Space Headquarters, Castleview Avenue, Dunstable XY10
TO: Ms Petal Dontrun, Crimson Chess Federation.
De la Wigan Headquarters, Wigan, United Kingdom, SM00
Dear Ms Dontrun,
Please accept my greetings. I write to clarify my stance on our
outstanding matters and hopefully to deter further speculation,
gossips, rumours, distortions, misinformation and sensationalism by the media.
As you are aware I contacted you on the day as arranged only to
be confronted with a response that was astoundingly unethical, un-
professional, rude, inconsiderate and totally uncalled-for. It was
so below expected standard that it raised doubt about your suit-
ability to be seen as a matured adult much less an intelligent being.
Still in the reverberations of this seismic occurrence I called again in
the hope it was a momentary loss of composure and yet again I was
subjected to a deluxe version of the first onslaught. To say I was
flabbergasted is putting things mildly, most especially as it was
totally unwarranted and underserved. It was obvious you lacked
any sense of decorum and had become an affront to common human decency and an embarrassment to your status.
In all fairness you did call some weeks later, but it had become
apparent that the ethos, protocol and cordiality that my Organi-
sation works within may not be relevant to your Organisation,
hence my unavailability to your contact.
I write to primarily reiterate that my position on this matter and
the present status quo is not based on some immature Ego play,
stubbornness, power-play or pride, rather it's in all truthfulness it's a belief in upholding standards in ethical considerations. I do not believe that bad manners, ill-considered behaviour, ill-judgement and a lack of sensitivity and good grace are matured and progressive trends to interact cooperatively within.
In conclusion, this is my stance on this matter and I hope it helps
your understanding. I believe a formal Apology from you and your
Organisation is appropriate in this regard and will instigate a
return to cordiality between our Organisation.
If you however feel this is unnecessary I will respect your decision
and the situation will remain unresolved.
I thank you for your attention.
Regards,
Phil Indifrence. C.E.O.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 5:18 PM UTC
silence
sweet silence
like none other
despite the library door
slamming everytime
someone leaves or arrives
it seems to slam louder
when they leave
i am not perturbed
or distracted, nor am i
expecting not to be
here, alone, surrounded by books,
i just am
lamenting this place not being
as busy
as it should be
who’s fault is that?
celebrating this place not being
as busy
as it should be
guilty as charged
all these faces i see
it’s like a small town here
sometimes abandoned
sometimes inhabited
once again,
i don’t care
how can i?
my head, full of
Aurelius and Bukowski
doesn’t have space to
well, deep down,
i guess i do care
but not as much as
i suppose society begs i
should
how can i?
i’m too busy figuring out
who i truly am
and the books help, Bukowski
was correct, these philosophers are
like brothers to me and i speculate
my deep “connection” to them
to men whom i never met
yet felt more fatherly care from
than my own
maybe that’s the root
sometimes, all this reading begs the question
do i like books
more than people?
or people more
than books?
i think i know the answer,
eureka!
i love books, and individuals alike
i don’t like people
especially when they group up
in congregations and crowds,
strangers in a
can of sardines
with no space to possibly
ever care
only to survive and barely breathe
or to escape such a reality
how could i?
when they don’t
even care for themselves
it’s disheartening, really
to witness such potential
in one soul
and watch it *******
melt away
around his or her friends
around their families’
incessant influence and needs
abusing providers
consumed by their personal troubles and struggles
and vices, infected by the amplification of
a hang out
girls night
boys night
the clubs, the bars
the gossips of nonsense and ****
that simply isn’t their business
sewage
their obvious and yet
radiantly painful,
like a sunburn that isn’t on you
but hurts to look at on someone else,
avoidance of themselves
begging the following:
could these souls spend
an hour, alone, with a book
and paper and pencil?
how could they?
they’d like to, i’m sure,
but hate themselves just enough
to not be able to.
-melancholicreator
Feb 27, 2024
Feb 27, 2024 at 4:30 PM UTC
I must have been raised wrong,
I believe in being generous.
I think people should be loved;
That meanness can be onerous.
I have seen what evil does
And I want no more of that.
I don’t think that selfishness
Will really feed the captain’s cat.
I have watched back biters
And gossips and thieves
Bring themselves all unawares
To the point where everyone grieves.
I have witnessed liars who get
Tripped up on their own tales;
Regular folks and politicians
Get the air taken from their sails.
I know well that our elderly
Have already done their job
So it’s fine with me if they just
Sit around and act like slobs.
They took care of us when we
Were the indolent folks kids are
So, they are entitled to rest,
More than we are, by far.
I was raised to let people be
If they had some philosophy
That did not match mine
Or even the vast majority.
Someone thinks a different way
That’s fine if it hurts no one.
Not everybody thinks the same
Carnival rides are that much fun.
I saw for myself that people
Were individual in so many ways.
Different in how they dressed
And what they had to say.
Some liked sports TV
And many preferred the soaps.
All of that is fine with me
So, why call each other dopes?
Is there something wrong with me
That I don’t go along with the crowd?
That I don’t enjoy the fights,
The sports fans shouting out loud?
Am I silly for not slowing down
When I pass a wreck on the highway?
Well, if I am, then that is fine.
I will go on doing things my way.
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
1.
i may call it a leaflet
i may call it a handbill
but don’t you notice
a large number of gossips
is natant in the air
do you admit that the fuming heart
that’s glorifying the plate
should be made a must-read
for any seed-bed
the sun tells that to keep-fit
the health of the clouds
the instigation of the perfumed-soap
is required
with that pituitary
some neighing of horses
that is fastened tightly with cork
now see
if you can offer pregnancy
even to the barbie doll
by the by
it should be informed here
if the question of roaming in the woods
is raised
the highly-educated bathroom
feels very helpless
and taking repeated somersaults
in the sunshine
in the rains
the folding umbrella
also have got very much out-of-temper
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 5:20 PM UTC
My Grandmère and I have long, gossipy conversations,
where we fall into our own chatty, slumber party rhythms.
She’s met or knows everyone important, and people tell her things.
They DM her or whisper secrets of lives ordered but loveless,
of careers choked by excesses and indiscretions.
She gets stealthy, leaked business reports of purported fortunes gambled and lost or of innocence wasted in bittersweet embrace - delicious, tangled narratives that expose the gaps between facades and realities that can’t be purchased.
Sometimes we pop popcorn on our private ends of the Atlantic,
watch Netflix, share secrets and laugh conspiratorially.
.
.
Songs for this:
Us by Regina Spektor
Young And Dumb by The Bird and the Bee
Jul 30, 2024
Jul 30, 2024 at 7:44 AM UTC
Vicious tongues a nasty rumor,
It only sparks my sense of humor.
Chinese whispers what do they say,
there's no truth in the patter at the end of the day.
People believe then the gossip is stirred,
when really the truth is it never occurred.
Jealous minds and evil in man,
They choose to destroy because they know that they can.
So never believe what the gossips have to say,
How do you know that's the truth anyway.
Don't be foolish to believe that it's true,
Your feeding the power to all it can do.
Nasty rumors they spread so fast,
It'll soon be forgotten a thing of the past.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 5:58 AM UTC
My family What's app group
Is homemade soup.
It keeps me calm,
Soothes me like a balm,
Reduces tension of the day,
Appeases my appetite for what is happening in some way.
Family relationship is savoury broth,
Holds a strong bond and growth.
Photos and videos,
Not to forget audios,
Are seasonings which enhance the taste,
Just some, only the best.
Gossips,jokes and sayings need time to simmer,
To reach full flavour.
Family moans and groans,
Are birthdays, death,sickness and new borns,
Raining with condolences and wishes,
Tangy, no preservatives.
Family members are garnish,
Quite a relish,
With active members as crusty croutons,
That promote sociability and traditions.
Passive members are fresh herbs,
Rarely a comment,only few words,
But,are there to bring out the lovely aroma.
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
Let's all be honest... for once... let us all admit this statement...
Each of us has impaled a dozy pill of mistakes... inhaled regrets fragrant
A prescription of the many countless regrets... failures... and stupid moments
They come back like a drug side effect, attacking you as their opponent
Losing your sense of reality as you drunkenly laugh at the blessings
Numb to kindnesses touch as you roll off the couch of security... nervously sweating
Openly abusing the precious, pure body of wisdom... deaf to her rejecting scream...
She stood by your side... Telling you not to take another drink... not to get lost in marijuana's dream...
A foolish smirk sneaks on your face, your mind clouded by the vape and tobacco, blocking your judgment
Carelessly touching in all the wrong places... pleasurable? Your conscious shows no lament
Your lips are a bite... Your touch is a knife... your words are a poison... to not only wisdom... for it will backfire
You are finally evicted from Illusions hallucinations... you fell for such a devilish liar.
Your brain has rung the alarm to your entire body... memories of unwise choices bring head trama
A heavy alcoholic breath escapes your mouth of regretted words... full of gossips drama
You wobble on unstable feet.. and do not achieve your desired balance...
Falling to your knees... you see the blood... the tears... and the saliva of someone who is guilty... no use in using words of parlance
No lies can hide the guilt that clokes your face...
All evidence leads you down to your fate...
"Drugged and Drunk of Regrets" was the charge placed against you... then you were sent away
But be careful... Memories, thoughts, and feelings can lead your mind astray.
"Set them free... You have been given mercy..."
The Judge granted, without one drop of regret and worry
...Mercy... You have been given mercy for your crime...
So why continue to drug your self on regrets? It's not worth a dime!!
DON'T GET DRUNK ON THE PAST!!!!
THE OLD IS GONE!!! THE PAST WON'T LAST!!!
DON'T CONTINUE TO ****** YOUR THOUGHTS OF A HOPEFULLY FUTURE!!
I HAVE DONE THAT!!! DON'T BE HAPPINESSES CONSUMER!!
We all have been Drugged and Drunk of Regrets...
but the best thing to do... it to apologize... and forget...
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
*Women bursting crackers of laughter
Different entertaining crackers of different colours
Gossips and rumours releasing the highest sound effect
Children running amidst alike an engine train
Men bursting crackers of laughter
Two different kinds of different colours
Boasting giving the highest sound
While criticising wives coming adjacent
Train of children goes through that track withal
Nix distracted by any means
Enjoying in their small innocent world*
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC