"horseshit" poems
Drinking at the bar, I suppose it was that time of night
When the Drink itself starts doin' most of the talking
And the guy says "I've been through the **** man, in this life, I've waded knee deep through it... the deep ****
And the other guy says "What **** you talking about ?"
So he told him, yea! He spins out his tale of woe
Of hurts and grievances, injustices and false accusations, bruises and batterings received both physical and mental
A whole sorry catalogue of troubles, of fights and quarrels, anxieties and illnesses, struggles with various multiple monsters..."
When he's finished the Other says rather dismissively "You call that **** that ain't **** that's ******** Sure my **** was bigger than that, much bigger
The **** I went through, Man! Some of the **** I seen...indescribable man'
So then he starts to spin his tale of woe... more ****
And when he's finished the Other comes back at him saying
**** You call that **** that's horseshit!
My **** was bigger than that, much much bigger!!
Your **** it's just... it's just *****
And so, there they were the two of them, at the bar arguing to and fro
About whose **** was the bigger
Till suddenly over in the corner, out of the shadows, with his face half obscured
This man, he clears his throat rather loudly
Causing them both to momentarily stop their bickering and look over
He then slowly raises a glass of JD (Jack Daniels) to his lips and takes a long sip
Then he says "What do you know about... the **** ?
Huh! (said in disgust) You don't even know what **** is
Why, my shit's bigger than both your two ***** put together"
Then he smiled a menacing smile and said "You wanna hear my **** story"
So he spins his tale of woe, a real shitstorm...
A real Moby **** of ****
The others they listened in awe
When he'd finished, One said very impressed
"Man!..Man That's... that's some ****
Then another said "That's Big **** !"
And another "That's real Elephant **** Man!"
Then silence reigned in the bar
Until one sighed and said wearily
"It's all **** this ***** isn't it?
Nov 23, 2022
Nov 23, 2022 at 7:53 AM UTC
From the fourth floor of my nineteen-story house, I peek out of the tinted windows. These are my only windows to whatever is outside, and they're tinted yellow and black. I am the first person on the moon. I am the first person on the edge of the planet. Will I fall off, or am I bold enough to carry on?
That, I think, is what has been bothering me for so long. I do not live in a nineteen-story house and neither am I peeking through yellow-and-black windows. No, these colors do not have any significance either. They are not symbols or metaphors. I have been making everything up as I hammer my fingers onto the keyboard and weave these unfathomable lines of thoughts. I am not the first person on the moon. I am not the first person on the edge of the planet. In fact, there isn't even an edge. I am an insignificant speck of dust. I am not even Horton's Who.
I just counted the number of 'I's in the first two paragraphs- fifteen. Fifteen of the same alphabet repeated throughout. That is, despite whatever you might say, a bad start to an essay (if you'd call this one). "Of course not, repetition is an important literary device!", you might say. Horseshit, I say. These words have no intrinsic meaning. These horribly structured sentences are disgustingly unfathomable. That's the second time I've said 'unfathomable'. Third. My 9-year old sister writes better than I do: "Today, I woke up. Today, I ate breakfast. Today, I horsed around with my dog. I am very happy. I am not hungry, because I ate today. Today, I ate." You can understand what she's saying- she woke up, she ate, she's not hungry, and she's happy. But what of me? I woke up, but just so. I ate and so I'm not hungry, but just so. I am happy, and yet I am not. These words that I write mean nothing to me, and yet they mean everything. Being the extreme nihilist that I am, life has no intrinsic meaning, and yet it is more meaningful than a poem that I once wrote about my tenth-grade crush. I've forgotten her name long since. The most absurd of all is that it hasn't been so long- perhaps a year. What is more absurd than the most absurd is that I am yet to turn sixteen; this I will do in a month's time- yet what is most absurd about the more absurd than the most absurd is the incongruity of the facts with reality. I shall not elaborate on this, for it has become nothing less of a meaningless telephone message constructed at the time of a drunken stupor.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC
Orange orange everywhere
Orange orange in the air
I’m given an orange despair
By a man with orange hair
I see through his orange glare
To see nothing really there
A man became president
Promising to evict residents
His stupidity self evident
When he says nothing relevant
About all the topical elements
He just talks for the hell of it
He’s unfit to lead
Because he’s equipped with greed
And an unwillingness to read
Gaining success from his family tree
He lives the American dream
By making others scream
To indulge his team
And his bigotry
All it took for his courtship
Was a culture of celebrity worship
And idiots buying his horseshit
Of acting remorseless
The gullible are impressed
With how well he is dressed
So they think he’s the best
Putting him in a wing that is west
Because he has a lot of money
But without any capability
You better start running
Money let’s him **** willingly
He takes advantage of the stupid and racist
By pointing at people with brown faces
Saying they’re here to replace us
Like they’re working for Asus
And not mowing his lawn
He said they will **** us
To manipulate his pawns
He’s a megalomaniac
Who thinks he’s a brainiac
But it’s a brain he lacks
To understand the impact
Of his negative attacks
Still he thinks he’s a genius
Which justifies his meanness
So his cruelty is seamless
While he claims to redeem us
This is our most vulnerable hour
With a president compromised by foreign powers
Building ivory towers
By turning minorities sour
There’s a litany of reasons
Why he calls them heathens
But it all revolves around freedoms
Being stripped from those who need them
His constituents have their heads in the sand
So they blindly give in to his demands
Going after whoever he’s ******
In the name of this land
Other kinds are banned
You can tell the bad guys have won
When they start separating mothers from sons
At the end of a gun
So there’s nowhere to run
Away from the oppression
Of our downward descension
As he does nothing to lessen
The root of our depression
His concentration camps
Give a **** slant
To his lofty plans
Until no one can stand
Without a weapon
Because of his deception
Which was his intention
To win the election
He promised detention
Of the boogeyman mentioned
The red, white and blue
Adopts an orange hue
When the foreign lose
From the fascist bruise
Of an orange noose
May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 9:47 PM UTC
How about that gasoline
in Autumn rain puddles?
How about them cars that don't start,
can't start.
I just wanted to start.
Playing games like this never amused me much;
I guess I'm more of a reader than a writer than a toy-game-player.
I want the facts.
None of this horseshit media circus,
ignorance is neither knowing nor caring.
Nay bliss,
It was bliss on those cold winter nights,
night twilights pressed hard against the city-smogged sky
where the gases of sugar beets and petroleum reflect back down orange.
Orange on the snow and orange on snow drifts and snow flakes on your eyelashes.
Little orange dusts
**** your lashes grow long)*
dusts fallen halfheartedly like rain in the fall
and rain puddles shone red
and blue
and green
and orange, orange, orange...
Always orange.
Like gasoline in rain puddles,
gasoline in cars that won't start.
They can't start, don't start;
My engine must be misfiring.
(How about them metaphors for a heart?)
Will you call me when you get there?
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Every time I answer I give away a little more of myself
The list of things I need to be grows every day
Another gap to plug with lines.
It’s hard to take sometimes.
I have begun to suspect that the old adage
“It's not you, it's me,” is not really about broken love but about ******* job applications.
You breathe a say of relief, I can hear it, “thank god not another lonely-hearts column”
Only a poem, insipid and sighing.
But I’m fresh onto the stage treading the boards for the very first time.
Swollen by years of septic success
Swimming in a pool on the Strand I was a happy middleweight
In this ocean, I am a particle of micro-plastic, unwanted but bobbing along nonetheless.
Another email, better than no email at all, regretting, informing and wishing me the best.
I draw myself together pulling at the loose strings at my seams, greeting, informing and thanking them for consideration, again.
This time though, the holes seem stretched, the string frayed
I’m a little worried that it will give, tired of straining it will collapse under the weight of my doused desire.
But there’s not much to be done.
So, I fill myself up with some watered-down ire, three coffees, a nibble of cake and a croc of horseshit with which to sell my fire.
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 1:31 PM UTC
My wife won't stop
writing poetry
it pours forth
rich in imagery
nuanced in tone
brilliant
inspired
every line loved into existence
tucked gently into bed each night
and called into service
the next morning.
Whereas
my words are meager
meek
brittle and contrived
words that push a barrel
of horseshit
toward the setting sun
No hope of ever getting there.
Why do I try?
It's really a bit sad
numero dos is my destiny
in this poetic liaison
I am forever the dunce
in poetry school.
But my teacher is a babe
a truly hot number
so I'll continue to sit at the back
of the class
try to follow the lessons
and hope against hope
she says a kind word.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
While you were reading "the Word" in that hotel room in new mexico or California or wherever the **** you slept with her that night, you should have been looking up passages on forgiveness or some other godly, holier-than-though horseshit that's supposed to make you into a better person.
I don't need a bible to tell me that what you did was wrong and I definitely don't need one to tell me that I should forgive you.
Because despite the horrific time we spent together, I know it wasn't all your fault. I've learned to forgive not only you, but also myself.
I don't need an angel to pull me out of depression. I don't need an angel to tell stories to of every glorifying good deed I've done in my life to get me into the gates of Heaven. I don't need Satan telling me I'm too good for Hell because let's face it: none of us really are.
I hope you know that when people ask about you, I tell them how lovely you are, that you're genuinely a good person who's dealt with more struggles than she deserves, who I treated poorly when she deserved her feet washed and her presence bowed to.
So when you tell those same people that I'm a pathological liar,
perhaps maybe you're right.
But I'm not lying when I say, I hope for happiness in your head.
I hope one day you don't feel the burning need to fill others' with pity for you and hatred for anyone you feel is against you,
that burning desire you have to destroy yourself so you throw everyone else into the furnace? Yeah. You know the story.
I hope you know I loved you, I loved you, I loved you.
I hope you know I never wish I hadn't.
I hope you believe yourself when you say that I'm a liar so that none of this makes you feel an ounce better about yourself.
In Jesus name I pray,
Amen.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
Slip into control Satan.
Take my rising rage
And pressured passion.
It is wasted and hated
By those I entrusted.
I am standing alongside
My own corpse and it is time
Someone else used it.
I don’t remember the death
But my own magic is missing.
I need your fangs to dig deep
Seep the venom into my veins
The white purity has led to pain.
At least with you I know
That is what will come.
And It is my choice.
I tire of promises ****** in my face like salvation.
It is horseshit.
I will never rebuke God
But the toxic teachers of the church
Have led me to this tragedy.
Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 2:40 AM UTC
you said
if life tries to sell you ****
pay it with roses
******* horseshit
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
)(
Lazy assed poets !
ONE ******* SUBJECT
ONE DEAD NATION
WITH CANNIBAL DREAMS
SWALLOWING EACHOTHER WHOLE
******* EACHOTHER CLEAN
()
Such horseshit love !
As the world is ready to DIE
::
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 8:56 PM UTC
this is for the classy ones that dance alone on tables of glass,
and the evil greed that breathes in you some night.
do you feel healthy?
don’t get lost in the woods,
don’t eat after twelve at night,
you will suffer the next day.
people, crowds of beaten people,
lost in the womb of the globe.
peace will never win, peace seems to be dead these days.
and you will fight the great fight of living
and the touch
and the feeling
of greatness will come someday.
skin deep in the wet dirt and the fresh grass
it means something to someone
and to another it’s horseshit.
the living skin wins again.
winning isn’t something good you know.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
The smoke curled in my yawning mouth
and I choked. I am clouding my lungs
and surely the poison is flowing
freely through each blue vein; this is merely damage control.
It is not beautiful
or romantic
or tragic, or any of that horseshit.
It is business and impersonal and clinical.
It is the art of dying slowly but it is not for display.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
( ^^^
)
( ^^^
)
^^^ O ^^^
^^^
O
••
Don't be afraid
Love ?
So / you don't know what it means ?
WHO DOES ?
• •
You do know this whole
BOY FRIEND / GIRL FRIEND
thing is horseshit , right ?
/:/
I mean Jesus Christ ! / how stupid
Can it get !
•
So many souls come down to the river
And bathe in pure puberty
Nakedly
With one another
Under the stars !
••
Let's face it
Even going to school at all is weird enough !
What WERE they thinking of ?
Gettin everyone's mind messed up !
Well I guess !
••
So here we are
••
Dribbling like lunatics on self inflicted scars !!!
And then going back and doing the same **** again !
//
So many people come down to the river
To bathe in pure puberty
Together
Naked in life's waters
Sustaining
And nourishing
The whole world
•
We all sorta got our own minds
And can think
Of a truer way to be raised
//
So
Let us
Down to the river and jump on in
Just to see what sanity might feel like
For awhile
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
In the silt
the milt
the making of man,
the coming of dawn
the morning begun,
the run through the trees,
the taking,
invoking the spirits to please,
smoking a peace pipe
wearing a second stripe
we're all in the war of what went before and
what's not here yet.
In ten thousand years they will dig up my bones
professors will view me and talk in hushed tones.
I'll be in the museum, some, will come down to see me,the fragrance of history etched in the memory of lines scratched by bullhorns,when the lawman kicked in the door man and that can't be right man.
And for now we will take it,we get used to the bullshit,we
were brought up on horseshit,in the spitting my way through the saliva today,
I walk upon tainted water, turned to ice, think i oughta use a ****** to slaughter the unborn of the daughters of the devil who sort of knows exactly where I'm at.
In the vat where the system is rising unbidden to fall and be hidden
I stir and stare at reflections.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
Even though the heart cries on and on for your touch,
My brain still is fueled by your words.
Cut me up and box me in thirds.
Send a piece to your heart and a piece to your gut
And a piece to your brain so I’ll be there for
Every decision you make.
Every breath you take.
I’ll sing cheesy love songs until one in the morning
And swing through the night until dawn.
I’ve never been sure of a whole lot of things.
Never been certain of much anything…
But there is one thing for sure that I can now say.
A life without you? I’m not living that way.
Raindrops on noses and whiskers on kittens,
I saw your smile and then I was smitten,
Silver coin down the well and I made a small wish,
The silver touched water and turned to a fish.
The fish swam below to the depths of the well,
And what did it see there? Only few can tell.
When it swam right back up, this is what it told me,
“Far, far away is your one and only”.
That small fish was right, one and only she is.
But not in the regular sense.
There’s a bond that’s filled with brute strength.
An unbreakable picture frame, housing a delicate,
Beautiful stained-glass portrait.
These feelings of love feel like horseshit.
But my brain takes backseat and my heart tells my feet
To run straight into your arms again.
And again and again and again.
I don’t care what we do or how we do it
As long as I get to hold you all through it.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 7:16 PM UTC
Frank's words resonated on these pages for all too brief a time.
Wise truths were coined in his acid, matter of fact way, wise council to errant minds and loose whims.
Frank could always be relied upon to cut through the horseshit, level the playing field and deliver the punchline with gravity.
He became disillusioned with the feedback, felt he was on a hiding to no where...he just vanished one day.
Really sad, I miss Frank. I miss his quality, clear candour and I miss most of all...his CLASS.
And Frank....I apologise unreservedly for pulling your chain in our last silly testy exchange.
If you are out there Frank - Why don't you slip quietly back into the HP picture?
You'll make a lot of really good people happy....Hell! you'll make me
VERY happy pal!
Cheers M.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
By; Cedric McClester
He’s selling horseshit
But nobody’s buying
Other than his base
Even they know he’s lying
While his spokespeople are
Out front denying
When behind closed doors
You’ll hear ‘em sighing
He selling horseshit
By the ton
But he isn’t fooling
Anyone
And now his lies have him
Under the gun
So ask yourself this
Is he having fun
He’s selling horseshit
Now it’s starting to stink
But he still assumes
That people don’t think
So he counter punches
Like, a boxing rink
Meanwhile the country’s
Begining to sink
He’s selling horseshit
And we’re getting tired
Of him and the folks
That he chose to hire
Like Kelly Conway
Who's become a liar
Or Sean Spicer
Whose pants are on fire
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 7:22 AM UTC
Get out there, my mother said,
Tossing me out,
Make friends
Play
Have fun.
Standing there
Seeing other kids playing house
Fighting over toys
Playing tag
This is fun?
Now I still stare with hollow eyes
People guffawing
Gesticulating
Laughing
Amidst clouds of smoke
And bottles of alcohol
Excitedly blathering on about inconsequential ****
While I blink
With all the enthusiasm of a cat
I'm bored.
These...creatures
Cawing nonsense to the thin air
Flapping arms to illustrate
Fighting over carrion
Bumming sticks off me
Getting my food
Borrowing cash
Asking favors
All this ******* noise
Meaningless chatter
About the flotsam of their petty existence
About what happened to whom
And oh my God you guys
You'll never believe what who said
I can't believe this and that how dare they
All this horseshit
Flowing
Rushing
Past me
Wearing down my sanity
All this hope and expectation
Wasted on people
On their shallow drama
On the inevitable disappointments
On the unnecessary negativity
I'm going home.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC
Why is there something
So freakishly unusual
Of two people in love
With eachother
Who met as friends??
Jeez!!!!
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 5:35 PM UTC
What ?
/\
< < ( ) > >
\/
FOR what ?
AGAINST what ?
|||
We won't even STAND UP AND DECLARE
that LOVE is real !!
( and by LOVE I don't mean the
OH I AM BROKEN SO I NOW KNOW LOVE
THRU THE REVERSE PSYCHOLOGICAL OSMOSIS
OF EMOTIONAL HORSESHIT MANURE-MANSHIP
OF POETIC MANIPULATION
OF REALITY
SO THAT THE
DUMB **** BECOMES THE WISE ONE
AND THE **** - HEAD BECOMES
THE SAINTLY TEACHER
AND PAIN BECOMES GOOD
AND DEATH BECOMES PEACE
AND AINT THE CORPSE
LOVELY !
sort of love on display
Round these parts )
•
•
No
I mean
The LOVE that we know
By a feeling as LOVE
because it IS
love
And there is nothing to say
And nothing to prove
And all we do
Is respect and honor
Each other
And all creation
For we know OURSELVES
AS LOVE
•
So
As we do not fight for LOVE
Nor fight those who distort what LOVE is
All
I can do
Is say
I GOT YOU
I HOLD YOU
AND
NO MATTER WHAT
I WILL TAKE YOU HOME WITH ME
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
//////
Amid the liars /// walk on
00000
False flags waving in ****** breezes
////
Politics and horseshit is all there is
//
Until it's only YOU
&
ME
on the highway unto Dawn
//////
//////
Ain't no real countries
No real religions
No real leaders
No real poetry
//
Only disquised ideology
Meant to capture and enslave
••
Everybody saying
I AM this or that
What we need are HUMAN BEINGS
There is but one war being fought
IT IS YOU FIGHTING FOR THE SAKE
OF OUR UNITED DIGNITY
000
So come child
Be a child
Be the soul you know you are
Be the WARRIOR
be the MOUNTAIN
Be YE the LOVER
that everyone needs
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
( or ,
the illusion of luv )
• •
• •
You know
I guess that what I am trying to ask is
Something like :
2 people meet
It's a wonderful thing
BUT THEN
EVERY ******* EVENT !
EVERY ******* EMOTION !
EVERY ******* THOUGHT OR FEELING
GETS
ANALYSED !
LABELED !
ACCEPTED OR REJECTED !
AND THEN COMES THE UNBELIEVABLY
FALSE **** ABOUT
BEING LEFT !
BEGGING / PLEASE COME BACK !
THE / I' M BROKEN / HORSESHIT !
||||
Like you're in some tv reality show
Playing to an audience
In the rom / com genre
Of perpetual immaturity
AND YOU ACTUALLY COMPETE TO SEE
WHO IS BETTER AT WRITING THIS CRAP !
instead of just
Meeting
Getting to know each other
Knowing each other's lives
Families
Friends
Exploring your own perspective
Of life
Trying to understand someone else's
Practicing to be patient
Generous
Kind
•
Instead of acting like
Zombie robots auditioning for the part
Of ******* demon from hell
••
It IS baffling
//
And a bit ugly
Watching you die
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
come on bro !
Time to go !!
an get the hell
Outta here !!
( don't forget the women and kids ! )
••
I mean
You really DON' T hafta just hang till yer hung
Ya know
Ya know ?
( **** ! Maybe ya don't )
///
Oh well
Maybe JEFFY will turn out to be god
And save you !!
///
Or maybe you will turn out to be god and save us all !!
•
Or maybe we ALL will realize
Something REAL
and live !!!!
//
Who knows !!
/•/
But this SUFFERING HORSESHIT
is gettin old
And the senseless surrender
In our poetry
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 2:13 PM UTC