"grossness" poems
the night was already crazy-wild by the time
we arrived at Jarred's pool.
he had a big house but we never went in
4 teens, teen dream, a dream team;
but I knew deep down just what it was
we snuck out for.
a "transform-optional" rite, this hollow night.
but I still had doubts...
as Jarred offered me an aluminum can of something and I nervously said, "no thank you",
the moon had proudly jut out
he had a big house but we never went in.
I hadn't noticed, without the moonlight, just how
sharp Jarred's teeth and fingernails were.
canines, ivory & sporadic. looking at me
I hadn't noticed how reptilian our 2 friends were
The fangs and dislocating jaws, tendrils & scales.
Man-o-war for a head, giant earthworm for an arm
She looked scarier than he.
Those 2 went at each other in a murderous way
A blood sport of sorts. Confusing to me.
She spread her jaws wide - a parachute with teeth
And bit down hard between his legs.
Blood everywhere. Blood spattered on her face
She looked ****** god-awful by then.
The meat of his dead body then re-animated
And assimilated with hers. Anabiosis + Differentiate
Jarred, a werewolf or something like it, approached me.
He had a big house but we never went in.
we chatted poolside for a while
he'd go harmoniously from monster to human, human to monster.
Boiling cancerous growths under his fur
Grew angry eyes that glared at me.
clawhand on the back of my neck,
he went in for a kiss (or a bite)
with a puckered face and bared teeth.
This is it.
I finally felt a grossness so profound that I,
without thinking, jumped in the pool
to splish-splash, cool, to escape, whatever
I opened my eyes and just floated there for a bit.
hanging in the stillness
trying to forget those alien freaks
staring up at the moon
from the bottom of a pool.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
How Strange.
You long for change,
but you are loath to redo.
And thus, loathe yourself.
And this loads on you,
on your coarse course.
Preventing the Metamorphose,
and forces you
into your torturous fortress.
A cocoon,
that protects against monsoons
but not the typhoon raging inside,
waking Typhon,
and blowing out
Prometheus's fire.
Oh how Oedipus Wrecks
the tedious good
until spiritless.
But never hopeless
Pandora's box is open
but Sparta's soldiers
will close it and guide you
from Tartarus to Olympus
and change, you will.
Shed your mortal grossness
for immortal happiness.
No common sense
that this recklessness
has consequences
When you do realize
What the Fates's foretold
it will be too late.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
Hello little fly lying there on the ground
Did you ever stop to think what end would come around?
Did you ever wonder how it may all end?
What kind of death that fate did wait to quickly your way send?
Most of the time generally you get old and die
All the buzzing stops at once, and in silence there you lie
Another common way in which you may have died
Is when your inside someones house and they spray insecticide
You start to get all dizzy and fly iratically
As the chemicals penetrate and affect you dramatically
After a few seconds though, you stop flying around at all
On your back you spin around break dancing there you sprawl
Another way that's quicker and happens just like that
Is when you're swiftly swatted and you insides go 'Ker-splat!'
That is rather messy as everyone can see
All your guts and blood get spread. Oh my goodness me!
All your little entrails and intestines so fine
And look at that. Your blood is red! The same color as like mine!
Sometimes there are even eggs that get squirted out
A death and an abortion, simultaneously no doubt
There's also an electric zapper that does a real fast job
Twenty thousand volts that your life from you does rob
You simply explode and your parts vaporize
Into fly mist without any time to say your last goodbyes
But the slowest and most gruesome by far seems to be
The fly strip that beckons you with a smell of food for free
As soon as you land there thinking it's a treat
You find yourself stuck there by your six little feet
The more you struggle though, the more the glue does bind
But it seems to take very long, you for death to find
Sometimes you squirm there for oh so many hours
Sometimes so stuck moving would take super powers
And then what is this grossness that I see
Little tiny baby worms squirming out of thee
I wonder if they realize that you're in trouble dire
And decide to abandon ship to escape the deadly mire
I guess it is that you flies have no morals or loyalty
The only thing on your minds survival seems to be
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 4:05 AM UTC
I trusted you and her but you laid my body down
The alcohol it poisoned me with a burden
The mind set of you and her on me
My body it’s ***** my mind is filled
All I can think about is the grossness of it
She cut we tried to protect her
But the alcohol poisoned me
Blood and dark red
A tortures red hands horror
The lies were told the hands the were everywhere
The story will never be heard
The pain will forever be felt
Dark red hands they leave marks I know now
Never will I never know again
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
I wanted to write a poem about my synthesthesia.
Even the types I don't tell my friends about.
But this was as far as I got.
At least I got up this morning.
And walked in the muddy snowy slushy grossness.
Who needs grammar?
"Another dawn another day".
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC
They named their youngest
Sarah Sweet
And you would too
if you chanced to meet
There wasn't a thing
she wouldn't do
Well maybe one
to tell the truth
Her parents pleaded, and begged,
rubbed Genie bottles for wishes
But Sarah Sweet
would not do dishes
She could not even
stand to think
Of sticking her hands
down in the sink
From tuna crusted
casseroles
To globs of oatmeal
days past old
Green and what?
watermelon rinds
Banana peels
way past their prime
From brussel sprouts
to pigs pickled feet
Cereal bowls
in what appears to be
Clumps of one time
Shredded Wheat
And don't forget
the mystery meat
So many nasty things
the sink holds within
That it makes poor Sarah's head
want to do a double spin
From something purple
to something pink
Something with
an awful stink
Something swimming
for it's life
Something else
that lost that fight
A little something
that's half chewed
That one time was
passed off as food
A little something else
to heighten the mood
Who put it there
no one knew
So much grossness
In the sink
To turn the stomach
Of Sarah Sweet
Now you see why
Despite her parents wishes
Their Sweet Sarah
WILL NOT DO DISHES!!!
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
(This is by no means an attempt at poetry. It is, instead, a piece of satire.)
Making Adultery Great Again
Make America Groan Aloud
Making Americans Greedy ********
Male American Grandiosity Association
Many Americans Grabbing *****
Mediocrity Actually Grows Annually
Men Acting Grossly Asinine
Masculinity And Grossness Amalgamated
Meanness And Greed Acceptability
Megalomaniacs Abrogating Government Accountability
Mostly ******** Getting Aggressive
Masking All Government Aggression
Miserable Atrocious GOP *****
Mad Animals Getting Angry
Making America Grow Antisocial.
Misanthropic Association Gutting America
Mistaking Accuracy, Growing Artless
Misery Accompanies GOP Analyses.
Misquoting Anybody Gains Approval.
Misspelling Anything Good Anytime.
Magic Ain’t Gonna Appear
Maybe All GOP Avoid
Meanness And Gouging Anytime
Money And Greed Always
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC
nonny is slipping away. she can’t eat her eggs, they dry on her lips. her hand is a claw, deformed, unusable. she shakes. she moans. her legs are thinner than they've ever been, her stomach too. she is just a straight line, no more womanly, comfortable, grandma curves.
for the first time she looked at my face and no smile broke out and no shine showed in her eyes. it is time for her to go. it time for her to know peace and joy and comfort again.
i hold her boney, contorted hand, and kiss it. i forget about the grossness of old age and just want to hold her.
i think i’ve heard the last words, and i couldn't even understand them.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:07 PM UTC
Don't make me get out of the car
Jolt me out of my dream
Pulled back by the heave in the brakes
It's the only time I'm not sure
if I'm supposed to be
Here
I just want to be, my love
pulled by the force of the car
And you
carrying me in a hammock over a river of grossness
Adding weight to my eyelids
I can't move
Safety to take for granted
that's what we all want
Safety to take for granted
And that we forget we have
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 12:35 AM UTC
she was the kind of crazy people thought they liked
had a bit of a wild streak
not much of a filter
and didn't really distinguish who could get with her
at least
that what they thought was all to her
in reality
behind that beautifully masked facade
she was a fragile girl
going through the world
looking only for affection
with maybe just a hint of validation
her eyes dreamed for the world
thinking she was ready
going head first but never steady
not afraid of difficult feats
but quick to leave if her desires never meet
maybe she was fickle
loathed tediousness
and badgering of regrets
(also, the grossness of sweat)
but on the contrary
her patience was weary
and with the dullness of life
she was starting to lose her faith in faeries
maybe a bit scary
but you
you loved her
full and through
and there was nothing
you would not do
just to hear that goofy laugh
and see that dimpled grin
you finally came to terms with it,
your love for her was a blissful sin.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 10:09 PM UTC
I love kisses-
they arm warm, soft, sometimes kinda gross
they make you feel appreciated and wanted
sometimes you catch little bursts of other peoples' dreams in them
and little spurts of hope and desire
I love kisses because I use them to express my love
and that I simply have no better way to tell them
no words or hug is good enough, so I must take the next step
THIS is how much my affection is for you
but what is confusing is the line drawn- the hug
cannot be the epitome of love but you cannot kiss someone
without it being romantic- why must the epitome of love
be romantic? why must things change now
and why must it be not-the-same and confusingly
not how I meant it? kisses are beautiful things
and I would like to share them with as many people as I can
not to say 'quantity over quality' but rather
that I would like to spread as much love, warmth, softness, and
kind-of-grossness as I can until my time here is done.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
She's an
Alright
Kind a' gal
She smiles at you
When you sneeze
She smiles at you
When you tease
She grins whenever you're
Trying to win
But,
There's the sin -
She always grins
When you
Try to
Win
But there's the finest
Form
Of gender
Wars
A chore
That wears the pants
And the ants
And the clearest time ticking
Of futures
Pasts
And imaginings alike
Another send off
In the right toss
Who's sincerity never bleeds
But
Sees
That love is endless
Dealing in pity,
In grossness,
In sadness,
In anger and utter absurdity; we
Are the writhing flesh too dumb
To admit
To
Death, yet to still
Believe in it so,
Like
Gospel.
There's another word.
A word I've yet to find.
A generation
A mess.
And they howls
With laughter
And the spines on my arm
Go hard
Like good ****
Like *******
Like Mount Vesuvius
And she spills out
Pouring fine words tasting
Of turkey gravy and pine,
Filled with the absence of money and the
Disillusion of the comfort of wine.
I take the finest word
And I make it yours.
You are the one
Down to my pores.
What else would you want
But everything,
And evermore?
Am I willing?
Oh', am I seeing?
What you've got to give me,
Is what I'm breathing
And what I'm seeing
What you're telling
Is nothing but your
Silly reason
I can't help what you tell me
And I can't help what you wish to see
But there is something you keep
And that is the key you key you keep from me
I'm only twenty three yet i've seen the world
And when I think of love
There is nowhere else
I'd rather be
Take me to the mountain
Take me to the mountainside
A simple way
A forgetful say
Another nod,
Just saying
"It's O.K."
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:49 AM UTC
~
I can't deal with this remorse from my guilty conscience.
chewed on my tongue to the bone, swallowed down fear until it hits the pit of my soul.
leaves me pale, what an inner grossness this is.
sweat?
or is this spit on my flesh from God.
stuck with myself - my sinister shadow sewn to the one who walks in the fresh sunlight.
~
thriving - soul - slowly - dying at night, my thoughts swarm - fester faster and faster
~
like a fish in bowel my home is purgatory ;
will I repeat?
will I repent?
how am I to feel normal
how can I if she isn't still here
I hear her voice over the phone
alone to her thoughts before the knot was wrapped
~
it was all my fault
~
her feet dangled above ground
a true angel levitating past this existence
my forevermore entangled in memory
until I perish
Jul 12, 2022
Jul 12, 2022 at 7:05 PM UTC
Actually, and after,
Beds, before, bravely built
Came cross crew, caulked, caved
Dove, dived, dug
Entered, expected every entrance ever.
Finally, few first felt
Gaul, grace, grossness,
How high her heaven held
In interspaced indifference.
Just jokes,
Kiddies kidded
Like little liveries. Like lost little laughs.
Most meet
Not next, not never, not neat, not nice.
Only over onager onery.
Please place people, perhaps past pain, past peaks, past pimples.
Quit quivering,
Right rangers, running round ranges
So soften such seals
Take tough touches
Under udders, undulating urges.
Very verified visages.
Why worry? What's worth when worrying?
Xenonphobic xenons xeroxing
You. Your yummy, yearly
Zone, Zoo.
Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 9:24 PM UTC
You may find me barefoot
With my hair stuck up
In a mess on
The back of my head.
You may find me
Covered in dirt
And sweat
And other grossness.
You won't ever
Find me startled.
You can't sneak up on
A woman like me.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 6:38 PM UTC