"klutz" poems
I almost forgot about you today. A sizable
spill of coffee shot me to my feet, holding
up my mocha-soaked notebook like an
unclaimed child. A dozen eyes found
me at once---a security measure meant
to bring shame to a klutz breaking his
social contract. Attention for **** living.
When the pain receded I stood in place
and imagined you brushing your teeth.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
I can’t help how my cheeks do flare,
And my smile shrinks and shy’s,
When at me he stares,
With those naughty blue eyes,
Ice blue screams adventure in his heart,
Different shades where emotion lies,
Making me blush his untrained art,
With those naughty blue eyes,
Ice blue eyes have me intone,
I can’t help the butterflies,
From only he alone,
With those naughty blue eyes,
Ice blue eyes plead him wise,
He’s made me a klutz,
With those naughty blue eyes,
Naughty blue eyes,
That so my passion entice,
Naughty blue eyes,
You got me thinking twice,
Ice blue eyes that whispers depth,
Subtly watching me he tries,
He’s got me perplex,
With those naughty blue eyes.
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 6:10 AM UTC
Is there tear gas in this room?
Because I can't stop crying
The gas crawls down my esophagus
And crushes my wounded heart.
“God this hurts”
I keep typing,
Praying to computer screen
That I'll forget the smell of your hair
I type till my fingers bleed
So I can forget what your touch feels like
How our lips fit perfectly together.
“God I hate myself”
The only phrase I think of
When I'm pleading for things to back to normal
Back to the days
Where you didn't want to to crack open my skull
And see all of the ugly things
That drift around my cranium
“Baby please I'm sorry. I’m a mess,
A klutz, who waltzes around with stupidity
Baby I get this feeling in my head
When you are not around
I want to keep writing you these love letters
By sliding them under your doors called your eyelids”
But I can’t
I sit alone in the bus called life
Looking across my seat
I see you, my love
Holding onto the bar
Your pretty Blue headlights
That make me drawn to you
Your pretty Blue headlights
Covered with the rain I caused
I'm a rain man,
you see, when people get close to me
I get scared
And force the skies rain to tears with pain.
The only thing that floats in my mind
Is that I hope the man of you life
Buys you flowers
Sunflowers especially
And shows up to your work unexpectedly.
I hope you can travel to Paris
and keep a long list of all of the countries
you've cuddled in.
With him.
I hope you he can handle seeing the stars
From your eyes every time you guys cuddle
Under the moon light.
I hope he can teach you how to slow dance
And I hope that he can teach me
On how to be a better man.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
Faking Bad
In anticipation of my
Evaluation to be declared
Non Compos Mentos
I slept under a bridge
For three days
"Getting into character,"
But on the morning of
My intake interview
My hair fell perfectly,
I mean I looked like
A ******* rock star.
College girls on the bus
Were giving me their
Numbers and my skin,
Which I'd purposely sunburnt
And caked in the finest filth,
Glowed like an Australian
Chippendale dancer named Weegie
And even the female Assisstant D.A.
Who had busted me for vagrancy
Waved her ******* from
The third story building
Of the Courthouse.
No matter how much I
Tried to speak gibberish
Poetry and philosophical
Tracts spewed from my mouth.
Shuffling past the park
I beat eight
Grand Masters
At chess on move 1
Inadvertently I solved
The Phi Epsilom Theorem
By kicking stones
Into an algorythym.
When I arrived they didn't
Make me wait at all.
My caseworker giggled like
A schoolgirl while I told her
Each day was like an endless shift
In a Chinese fish- gutting
Sweatshop and every one of my fellow
Employees was motivationalist
Richard Simmons.
She ungirdled her enormous
**** and as they spilled
Like fishguts onto the desk
She began to howl
**** me, **** me, oh ****
Me right here in
Front of the open window
On State Street as everyone
Watches me ******* the strongest,
Healthiest, smartest, most popular,
Well-adjusted man in the world.
The rest of the examination was
Also a success.
But as I left the Mental HealthCenter
feeling marvelous
I accidentally bumped
An old woman with the door:
"Watch out you manic-depressive
Schizoid with Socially Avoidant
Features klutz."
-Thomas L. Vaultonburg
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
I'll tell you Minaz's story.
1. I know a girl from Kolkata,
But lo! She is a stock for laughing.
She is such a big klutz,
She messes up everything.
2. Once she wants to be a singer,
But lo! She can't actually sing.
She tries her best to be melodic,
But is far away from melody.
3. Again she hopes to be a painter,
But lo! She can't actually paint.
She tries her best to be artistic,
But what she draws is far from art.
4. She now takes up cookery classes,
But lo! She can't actually cook.
She tries her best to bake a cake,
But blows apart the oven for the bake.
5. Then she hopes to be a dancer,
But lo! She can't actually dance.
She tries her best to be elegant,
But what she does is more of a prance.
6. Fed up, she tries to be a gardener,
But lo! She can't actually tend to any.
She tries her best to sculpt the hedge,
But what becomes of hedge is only shorter.
7. She goes to a monk in Darjeeling,
Seeking some advice & tells him all.
The monk is a smart one and says,
"Get married to a martial artist and tend to your child."
Now Minaz is happy and is no longer 'The Ultimate Klutz From Kolkata'.
The martial artist husband helped her attain control over herself.
Coming of a child into her world was life transforming for her.
Just a bit of love can work wonders for the life of anyone & everybody.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
Life got too hard,
and he just gave up
he tipped his ***** bottle
swirled into his cup.
No ice please I hate 34 degrees
hurts my teeth they start to chatter
then I start shaking my knees.
This bars my Christmas
my birthday,
my new years, no ones here
its my bar at my house
I sleep in my sleeping bag full of
beer cotton mouth.
The mice even left.
Without that molecule
I couldn’t snore a wink
the sheep in my dreams are drunk
they stumble fences and pant bleats
They guilt me to sleep
not calm soothe or meek
they taunt me of loss of love
and a family that cant speak
The roaches are gone
they stopped playing cards
I watched them wall glide
and asked them to stay in my floor
Then the roache left too.
It seems cant do much
drunk klutz falling over tables
maybe my liver loves me
maybe that’s stable.
I go shopping for droppings
for things that I need
if I loved myself a bit
maybe I'd do speed.
End it quicker.
The cirrhosis is my friend
he gives me gifts
cramps in the morning
and blood in my ****
I think if my liver were the garbage man.
He'd bring me good news
but I think liver got mad,
downed the last of the *****
My liver left too.
Now I'm a maggot bag stinking up the place...No one knows.
Who knows.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
The others never got to Jane
quite like tequila had.
While sober one might think her plain,
Jose turned good girl, bad.
In a haze of salt and lime she
thought herself a hero.
A partying vigilante,
but powers? She had zero.
That never stopped Jane in her tracks.
She thought herself quite brave.
Jane’s friends disagreed with these facts,
and wished she would behave.
On the night before prom they drank,
Each kid grabbing a brew.
Jane grabbed her bottle with a “thanks”
and drank the whole night through.
The tequila was pumping through
her veins and Jane felt strong,
as she did a slurred rendition
of her favorite song.
Though the words were a bit muddied
and she was quite off key
the group all sang along with her,
the crowd howling with glee.
“I’m strong!” They stared. “And you know it!”
The drunken hero rose.
One boy yelled, “She’ll fall and eat ****
They watched, all on their toes.
“She’ll try and fly again.” one said.
Tequila Jane was nuts.
“Last time she slipped, and fell and bled!”
***** made Jane a klutz.
“Get down from there!” her friend growled,
grabbing her by the hand.
“Back off man! Total party foul!”
Jane squealed, trying to stand.
But the liquor was too much, those
the shots had made her woozy.
Jane passed out, thus the story goes,
of our favorite ******
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Out Behind the Barn
me and Jimmy Dickens
were in the barnyard feeding chickens
we were both 11 about that time
when up the road came Susie Kasper
with her cousins Ted and Jasper
a couple of teens headed for a life of crime
they signaled out to us
I could hear Teddy cuss
they walked up and whipped out a couple of butts
they said here take a puff
if you like this I got better stuff
so I did just like a dumb old klutz
I coughed and I wheezed
I farted and then I sneezed
my eyes were leaking like a sieve
Jimmy was smarter I guess
but he too finally said yes
took a hit and felt the burn of a shiv
we both puked as they laughed
it was there very special craft
they always managed to make you look like a fool
but they patted us on the backs
said boys now just relax
you won't learn a lesson like this in no school
then Susie gave me a big wet kiss
wow sure wasn't expecting this
I was in a trance until I heard this horn
it was my mom back from the store
she yelled someone help me with this door
but I was busy gettin educated out behind the barn
Gomer LePoet....
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 3:44 PM UTC
I remember I was the new kid again when I first met you.
I remember a flash or bright orange hair and tan freckles
as you stumbled over my bag.
I remember the exact shade of crimson our faces turned
as we rushed to take blame.
I remember the dusk blue smile in your eyes as you helped to gather
the scrambled contents of my backpack.
I remember avoiding you and the rest of humanity for the rest of the day.
I remember sitting alone on a cold bus seat and suddenly feeling
someone warm sliding in next to me.
I remember the smell of oranges crawling through the air as you introduced yourself
and apologized again for being a klutz.
I remember struggling with shyness for a moment before I could whisper a reply.
And I remember sitting awkwardly in the corner of our seat,
catching a little grin from you out of the corner of my eye after every bump
that made our shoulders brush.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:17 AM UTC
Out Behind the Barn
me and Jimmy Dickens
were in the barnyard feeding chickens
we were both 11 about that time
when up the road came Susie Kasper
with her cousins Ted and Jasper
a couple of teens headed for a life of crime
they signaled out to us
I could hear Teddy cuss
they walked up and whipped out a couple of butts
they said here take a puff
if you like this I got better stuff
so I did just like a dumb old klutz
I coughed and I wheezed
I farted and then I sneezed
my eyes were leaking like a sieve
Jimmy was smarter I guess
but he too finally said yes
took a hit and felt the burn of a shiv
we both puked as they laughed
it was there very special craft
they always managed to make you look like a fool
but they patted us on the backs
said boys now just relax
you won't learn a lesson like this in no school
then Susie gave me a big wet kiss
wow sure wasn't expecting this
I was in a trance until I heard this horn
it was my mom back from the store
she yelled someone help me with this door
but I was busy gettin educated out behind the barn
Gomer LePoet....
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
Honestly
There were times that I try to convince myself that I don't like you
You're loud and giddy
and most of the time, a real klutz
You'd probably have a sprain on every other day that I'd get to see you
You're annoying and pretentious at times
and your imagination really does take flight whenever you'd see my drawings.
You're crazy in more ways than one.
I don't even know how that's possible!
I'd sometimes tell myself that I hate you
I'd tell myself these:
I hate how she's loud and giddy
because you'd have these eyes that glow every time you'd have a story
I hate how you're getting sprains because you were so immersed in your own world
sometimes, I hate that you'd come to me about it, because I would care too much
I hate how you annoy me sometimes, especially when I draw or study because you'd get too close to me and it makes my heart beat so fast, I'd get tachyarrythmia
When you get pretentious.. I hate how I'd like to listen to your stories, because well.. you tell it so engagingly
it sickens me
I hate how you're so crazy it makes my day so different from every other boring day I'd get before I met you.
I keep telling myself these
every single day
to make myself not fall in love with you
and before I knew it.. all this time.
I'm in love with you
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
that pending job(no particular order)
getting qualified to apply to pending job
writing for Excal.
actually doing work, and well
absorb more literature
produce those short story ideas, novel(s)
decisions are made after confronting the no. 3
rearrange room when home next
bulk up there scrawny
where am i living next year
friendships, both new and old, the you know why's
who took my deodorant!
ease the knots in my back
eat energizing foods
a normal sleeping pattern, at least for a couple months
a job after the summer
location and change
declaring my stream
that ****** POLS assignment
an overall comfort
i'm not far off form 20
and i want something to show for it
a personal standard, not to wave but have
why exclude poetry from the list?
written and read
guts to be a musician of any sort
to routinize the gym, or not to? not to.
don't **** away money
a glass of water
cable for my bedroom
switch desks from home and school
a desperate need for space, choking taut
4:18 am is no time to be conscious today
does an inspirational soul exist
i risk time rather than action, too often
do i show THAT poem to HER
*** must i consider thee at all?
how okay am i with my laziness?
how okay is laziness
bringer of bad news, sorry bud, no can do
laser eye surgery
to scoff or bow to the notion of a Happy Medium
too pompous, too cynical?
it's too late for one
a vehicle, real bad
boxers, needed new
materialistic detachment
africa and the world
children?
how do i function in this universe, do i?
hand eye not so great, kind of a klutz
remember everything (faces, time, self) better
do i get promoted?
does anything matter?
will it later?
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 12:05 AM UTC
I'm sure I was certain
Since when did I think I was a burden
Could it be? That I didn't see?
What's happening to me?
Slowly getting unhinged
All these stuff
They're driving me nuts
Maybe I was just a klutz
But oh please
take me away from this unbearable cage
called my thoughts
where doubt is certain all over the four walls
I no longer know where I fit
Feeling like a splat of dirt in the middle of a picture
Like an unwanted dust over a highly expensive vase
That feeling of being a trash in such a clean place
It's driving me crazy
It's utterly familiar to me
I guess it's called insecurity
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
My voice comes out in twos and threes
I see your face in leaves on trees
Eyes behind me I can't recognize
Since that night I tell no lies
Days and nights to swallow pills
A silent love song that slowly kills
With shaking knees I feel the shame
For anything wrong, I am to blame
Your head on mine, my nerves on fire
Clothed in shadows, I walk the wire
Beginner's luck, I am a klutz
Something better than painted-on cuts
Small-town feast, we tread the outskirts
I feel privileged to be the first
Pink and green and brown, our eyes
I hate it most when we exchange goodbyes
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 1:20 PM UTC
I don’t play guitar
I don’t write poetry
People say I walk weird
My singing sounds awful
I am a bad dancer even in my dreams
I knock myself out,
Walking into doorways and walls,
I am such a klutz.
I stutter on the phone,
I am such a nervous wreck
Yes, I am jealous
Because you are amazingly gorgeous
And I am just me….
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Literally the strongest person I know.
And in this moment I am using the word "literally"
With the correct definition.
You are a complete klutz,
But the way you live your life is much more graceful than you let on.
You're the masterpiece the gods have waited for.
Little miss independent.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
Silence
Deafening and
Destructive
The water begins to pour
The pitcher tips over
And down
There is a puddle on the floor
He looks at my offering with fury
Why does he turn rain into hurricanes?
Pissant.
He needs to learn how to swim.
~Christa E. Cannon
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
we are improper
how we are
what we are
the first time that our lips met
it was cheeky
inexperienced and
so messy
lips stacked on one another
smiles twisted on both
and in that second
we froze
hair tangled
the hand on my waist
grips tighter
your eyes didn't simply twinkle with stars
they held an entire nebula in those irises
little crinkles held up by the arms
of pain and smiles
awkward moments with you
give me the giggles
while your throat is caught with
the chuckles
fingers intertwined
arms side by side
foreign lines on your hand
align with mine
brains wired to be a klutz
our lack of belief in true love
became the foundation of us
a wobbly tell tale
for it all soon fell away
like the kings and the queens on a chess board
each text lacked enthusiasm
ignored phone calls
"Please leave a message for..."
should've seen it coming
ignoring the signs myself
my fingers quivered with hesitance
for the reality of us is
we were improper
how we were
what we were
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
Homeless. Crazy.
Everything is smooth.
No,
no one really knows enough.
No one cares enough, or gets it.
Close to charity,
all is oppressive.
Keys on treble, wishing
everything was ******* brilliant.
My planning is a bet that
it all comes part unevenly.
Yeah,
neon smokescreen,
lime green cigarettes,
and I'll leave you to carry
that sentiment on your
shoulders.
I hope you feel empathy like
a child that's ****** the bed;
warm and embarrassed,
take as a symbol of
habitual weakness.
Take it like a pill with tap water
that sticks in the throat like a brick.
Next door to inhumanity.
Every day is slightly
darker
than the last.
**** forgot the punchline…
something about how daylight fades
and darkness falls.
If we could all be so clumsy and respected.
A "feared klutz."
Anyways.
All the geniuses are dead,
and I hate most writers;
Snarky, uppity, *********
They're all dirt now.
I passed a man who spoke gibberish,
but ended his mush mouth with some
statement about getting food.
I told him, "I got nothing on me."
I lied. Of course I ******* lied,
I had almost $270 dollars in my wallet,
cash.
I don't even know
what I'm supposed to do with the money.
Just **** it away, I guess.
Start looking for another handout myself.
I can see the lines-
washed out, skillfully ignorant or oblivious
&
whoever said I was a loser first,
won the grand prize.
Some truth in the
universe.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
I am not graceful
I am a total klutz
the only time I am
is when I dance
when I spin and twirl
I feel at peace
My leotard pink
my tights are white
well at least they used to be
ballet shoes pink stained with grey
my red hair in a bun
leaping high
Dancing
Dancing
Dancing
© 2013 Emily Larrabee. Legally Copyrighted, all rights reserved
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
A farmer working in a field
Felt compassion for his horse--
A tired, overworked jade.
He let it go with no remorse.
When villagers discovered that
The farmer's horse had been set free,
They wondered how the man would prosper.
The farmer succinctly said, "We'll see."
Days later the farmer's horse
Returned to the poor man's piece of land,
Bringing along several others,
Eager to give a helping hand.
The villagers heard the wonderful news
And rushed to share the farmer's glee.
"How fortunate you are!" they said.
The farmer merely replied, "We'll see."
The next day the villagers
Watched with ghastly fear in their faces
The son fall while training the horses
And break his leg in numerous places.
Lamenting the farmer's sad misfortune,
They asked how he would ever be
Able to work the land on his own.
The farmer again replied, "We'll see."
Soon a terrible war broke out.
The emperor needed able young men.
Because of his broken leg, the farmer's
Son was excused from duty. Again
The villagers went to the farmer, saying
"Your son escaped the emperor's decree.
How lucky for both of you!" The farmer
Responded by only saying, "We'll see."
Even though the son's leg healed,
The son walked with a definite limp.
Village children viciously teased him,
Calling him a klutz and a gimp.
The villagers came to see the farmer,
Their words of pity staggeringly
Effusive. "Aren't you sad?" they asked.
The farmer smiled and said, "We'll see."
The sons of the villagers died in the war.
The farmer, along with his only son,
Worked the land, grew quite wealthy,
And never complained to anyone.
Once in a while he'd meet his friends
And chat over a cup of tea.
"How lucky you are!" they'd say to him.
He'd shrug his shoulders and say, "We'll see."
- By Bob B (2-21-17)
°An old Chinese tale retold in verse
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 1:00 PM UTC
I am as blur as Dory
you might say
and
as clumsy as baby Bambi
Its a miracle how I get by
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 7:02 AM UTC
Why are others mouths inclined to draw the pictures I try to scribble out that form inside my mind?
A worthless, spineless creature- almost serpentine, wriggling on its belly baring cyanic, lachrymal eyes.
I want to squirm from this Stygian tomb, disenthrall my thoughts from the shadows swimming with me
inside this amniotic pool. I'm just a worthless fetus, a crumbling parasite and perhaps it becomes more
obvious when I try to keep it out of sight, like a stench you try to hide; Dulcify decomposition with a rain
of fragrant petals and slowly you'll come to find that magnolias smell of death, I can taste it
slightly on my breath and it whets their appetite, the demons that stink of ammonia that gather every
night orchestrating their symposia, their bellies full of laughter and drink while I'm full of minacious,
eternal thoughts that writhe through plumbless wrinkles and ichor, questioning motivation and what it
is I fight for. I can never find the right answers... My tongue won't grasp the words, they just slip back into
their couthy throat where they can't be ignored; Left to die upon the shore, as fuscous waves that stain
sand with rejection crash against my shattered form. My hands crack trying to flip the hourglass back
and my eyes are constantly attacked by depression's thalassic pulchritude, a multitude of pains swaying
to and fro in veins, begging for escape but trying to stay encased. Life nulls and denudes, my aptitude
for feeling- my natural ability to hold things close without unreeling heartstrings. Keep reading, there'll
be no eucatastrophe just endless pages of pointless animosity and tragedies accompanied by laugh
tracks, everyone loves a jester with a proper act and I act a proper klutz futzing around with letters and
spelling, trying to ensorcell any being to find my misery compelling.
-SLuR
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC
~ can't I be as good as everyone else?
~ must I be such a klutz?
~ aren't there more good people in the world?
~ does everyone have to be so selfish?
~ can't everyone just work together?
~ do people have to be such jerks?
~ have I been feeling so sad lately?
~ does life have to be so complicated?
~ do I have to be me?
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC