"meself" poems
My oh my , dear oh my
Why sole me , deliberate shy
Arrouse me in meself inner sanctum
To cause penises go wild erectum
Why me frail and naive
Touched and grabbed feels so tactile
Breached and pinched gets me unleashed
Fortold and shadowed narrows me leached
Oh how i humble and crumble for pain
Pleasuring may not be enough, but not in vain
Showering me until it rains
Pumping my blood through my veins
Widely and unique i scorge and emerge
Make me *** till i purge
Bright and shiny i humbely traverse
For a non-stoping reverse
Apr 6, 2010
Apr 6, 2010 at 3:54 AM UTC
This contains swearwords!!!!
Do you know what it’s like to be on the dole?
The giro, the social, the rock and roll,
Well I’m tellin you now, that it’s no laff,
No heat or food, round at my gaff,
I can’t pay the bills on fifty three quid,
This is how I live; I’m tellin ye kid,
No Lecky, or water, or comfy bed,
Nowhere to lay my educated head,
You’s think I’m brewsted on state benefit,
Well I’m tellin ye now, life is ****
No jobs are goin in my town,
This whole ****** country is goin down,
I look every day for a job to do,
Over qualified under qualified, scew you,
I’d brush your path, deliver your dinner,
My options for work get thinner and thinner,
But we get the blame for the country’s debt,
And seen in your eyes as a useless get,
We are not scroungers and living like kings,
We can’t afford the simple things,
We can’t take our kids to Blackpool pier,
Or to the fair, it’s just too dear,
It’s not our fault the system let us down,
Schooling was crap, but I got a cap and gown,
So don’t look at me, like I’m ****
I’ve bettered meself to get out of this pit,
I’m clever and proud and I stand tall,
I make something out of nothing, coz I’ve got **** all,
You won’t tread us down, yeah that’s right,
We got fire in our bellies and where ready to fight,
We’re not greedy for a fancy lifestyle.
The simple things make us smile,
So quit avin a go, at our worlds apart,
I’m scouse and proud, with a lions heart,
So live well in your mansion, apartment, or detached,
Coz were the generation that Maggie hatched,
Yeah that’s right were Maggie’s crew,
The under privileged, not like you,
Time to step up the Cameron’s and Clegg’s,
Coz you’ve sat long enough on Thatcher’s eggs.
Tina Ford
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
Ah wuz lookin oot o' mah winder and ah saw this lad
wi' a barry wee lassie gaun' up the hill.
-Wair the **** d'ye think you're gaun tae? ah yells oot.
But the daft ***** didnae answer at aww,
must've been oot o' thir ****** heids wi' E's or summat,
d'ye ken what ah'm tellin' ye,ye daft radge?
-Wair ye're ******* going? ah yells a couple mair times
and finally the gadge yells back to ays,
-Up the ******* hill tae fetch a pail o' ******* watter,
me Ma's hud her fuckin' taps turned oaf by the fuckin' Corporation,
which is a ******* pain in the erse ah had ter agree.
I realised ah knew the wee **** Jack but,
eh wuz an auld classmate of ays and eh's hung oot wi' ma brar n me,
when we wuz bairns oan the Scheme,eh?
-That's a bonny wee lassie ye've goat wi' ye, there Jack, ah yelled,
thinking ah'd nae kick her oot o' mah scratcher
withoot gi'ing her a guid ride.
Ah huvtae sey ah recognised hir as a wee ****
called Jill from the Scheme, a right tidy wee ride
in mah opinion wi' a guid little ***** on hir, as ah recall.
-Mind ye're own fuckin' business, the **** yells back at ays,
takin' the pail in yin hand and the hoor's wee hand in the other yin.
Ah can tell ye ah totally pished meself wi' laughter
when the pair o' they wide ***** fell doon,
Jack breakin' his fuckin' croon n the groond,
ah'm sure he nivver meant it tae happen,
'n eh mustae squashed his ******* bawws
as eh fell doon n aww from the wey he screamed oot,
but the wee lassie cam tumbling doon the ****** hill n aww,
heid n **** oor her fuckin' erse
'n ah could see she wasnae wearin' any ****** *******
'n her ***** was on display under her skirt.
Ah wouldnae expect anything else from a wee hoor,eh?
-Dinnae worry, ah'll com and help ye, ah called oot,
but when ah goat thir, both o them wis deid,
ah thoat o' gittin mah hole wi' the deid lassie n aww,
but you shouldnae dae that, it's no respectful tae wimmin,
'n eywis, the polis might trace me through the DNA,
those ***** are clivvir 'n aw, ye ken.
So ah contented mesel' wi' rummidging through the poakits
o' the lad's jaykit tae see if eh hud ehs payment from the Joab Centre,
but the daft **** mustae spent it aww on a boatil or two o Grants,
ah ken ah'd hae done the same mahsel'.
And there wasnae a penny in the lassie's purse,
so ah thoat ah'd jus' **** oaf doon the ******
'n ask some **** tae call the hoaspital and the ****** polis.
Eh?
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
Are you exhausted, shopping all day?
Are you exhausted ignoring me? I won’t go away.
Aren’t you tired of that humdrum existence of yours?
Give me a guitar and you won’t be bored.
A shiny Les Paul or an old Humbacker –
I’ll kick out the jams until me fingers are knackered
And you say, “Are you exhausted?” and I’ll say, “Yes! That’s the one!”
(The name of me album, that is, not the song.)
You should have seen me on stage back in seventy-six,
Jamming with my old mate Jimi Hendrix.
We was gods in them days, we were gee-tar kings,
though I only started playing ‘cause I couldn’t sing.
I played with all the greats, even Chuck Berry
(I strummed along on my guitar while I watched him on telly.)
I taught them all the great licks that made them so famous.
Just look at me now: a forgotten genius.
Now I’m walking the streets with me bottle of gin,
Of course I’m exhausted but I’ve got tough skin.
Now I’m talking to meself in the centre of town,
Yes, I’m exhausted but you won’t see me frown.
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 1:45 PM UTC
am shittin meself abar shittin meself coz shittin meselfs gon be bad
but da besscorsarakshn terattak da bad bastd wud be shittin meself first insted
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
im trying to decide
if this is hell
or heaven
when im eleven oclock ******
and its only seven
ive got enough
to power through until nine or ten
but then im crashing
ill be passing out
and ******* meself
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC
I just couldn't help meself
I went tearin in
it smelt like a bacon sarnie
to a lapsing vegetarian
I swore I wouldn't do it
and I'd swear I didn't then
but I'll sign for me crimes on the dotted line
I'd sell ya a ******* if you'll give me a pen...
an a baggadat ting aggen
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC
On a night no different than
The others that abound
I spotted six unsavory men
Together, hanging around
I told meself, "Now looks at them
They seem a likely lot
What may have stole me puddin packs
Right out me secret ***
I thoughts a bit then took a chance
I walked into their midst
I told about the puddin stole
And ask 'em if they didst
They laughed a bunch and thought me for jestin'
But 'twasn't I what told them jokes
And when they saw I was being earnest
They gave me slaps and pokes
I thought I saw a blinkin light
Above me twisted head
But twas only lights of painfulness
Like parts of me was dead
I never found me puddin packs
And it truly made me sad
Cos I was to make puddin cake
For me child what wasn't bad
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
Were you the one who lifted that toilet paper from rehab?
That’s some fine industry, ain’t 2-ply
But that’s some fine *** 1-ply.
(You do what ye’d like, sir, I’m a-headin down to YOU-gene to get MEself a turkey DIN-ner!)
I’ll getcha a 40 if you lift one of them American Flags from the apartments over there.
Check it, Frat folks are a patriotic bunch.
What’re we gonna do with it when we get it?
Sew it round my hips, imma burn the edges up to my thigh,
I wanna look like *** tonight.
While you do that I’m gonna sew it into the toilet paper.
Patch it through here and there,
That’s some fine industry,
American-ply.
(It’s not such a bad way to *** around, so long as ye ain’t got a burden on the back, make the tire drag. Yissir, if ye can do without, ye can go just about anywhere.)
I’m gonna write Positive Liberal Slogans on it.
**** you.
From across the park she’s looking in the window from the garden,
holding her child wrapped in cotton.
She hasn’t moved for a while now and I start to wonder
How something that looks so much like someone I want to love
Can be just a pile of sticks and nets and perspective.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
I lose something in this home
I smile, you know? I smile with humans
No, that’s not it
I’m true when I’m hating my creations
And what is becoming of me
Oh, pity me bubbly
I’ll weep all the same
But it’s lousy
My concerns are lousy
Just a boy, a tinkerer
A boy
I’m lousy, man
Not pretty
Pretty lousy
Just hate myself. Purely. Sanctimoniously
Doctors were onto something
A grin introduces myopia
Lousy
Lousy concerns
I’m blessed; better by a margin, right?
I ought to hate meself with more pep in the step
And better teeth
God, I wish I didn’t look like this
How could you build me like this?
It’s funny, you know. I write about the cerebral complexities, those magnified things. I notice the film grains in my eye, but hey, I’m still a ***** to loneliness.
Man, you ought to be lonely!
The only difference between now and then is, that now I blame a God that I don’t believe in. I blame it and that for my misfortunes, the fact that luck is merely a word to me.
God, I want to die
Can you hear me? I seek it, I reek of it
I want to die
I’ve mulled over it with great wit and dexterity
I want to die
Stoicism
I want to die
It’s healthy; symbiotic
I want to die
So lonely
Wanna die
I just want to reach the zenith of the mind’s pataphysical eye, before
Before I die
Haven’t you heard?
I want to die
Cries for help are immature
I am not a child
I want to die
Oi, someone help, with this pulley!
I want to die
John’s my only friend
At one point, he was quite alright with dying
He’s been gone for a while
And I want to die
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 4:40 AM UTC
Title-out of place- by meself. A boor I am to peasantry's sultry disgrace, cargo to be tended, I subsist unamended, how childish I play these games. Liquer buds, saltine love crumbles beneathe day room lock-outs! Eyes stare ablazed, the hued sunset repeadily turns masterpiece of horrid honeymoons idealistic and realistic to discussions seeming strange. Partial bodies secrete the grassed out hills, morning calling awaits.,,,,,
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
Hey its me
You know who I am many worried of me last night and many rumors went around I offed meself. NO not the case have been having health issues and wound up in hospital because of it yesterday but will do better... So for all you wondering I am back home and well.. Much love
And thank you all for caring so much! Thats what this life is about caring for another whether another poet animal human being and loving another and being charitable without wanting nothing in return! Thank you all soo much.. May you be blessed!!
Brandon Cory nagley....!!!!!!!!
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
Title-out of place- by meself. A boor I am to peasantry's sultry disgrace, cargo to be tended, I subsist unamended, how childish I play these games.
Liquer buds, saltine love crumbles beneathe day room lock-outs! Eyes stare ablazed, the hued sunset repeadily turns masterpiece of horrid honeymoons idealistic and realistic to discussions seeming strange.
Partial bodies secrete the grassed out hills, morning calling awaits.,,,,,
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
(Secret lovers) By meself.. secret devotions, titled emotion sweeps the dusted lands.. Secrets turned to openness,false lovers have strong demands. Fashion glasses and technology to hide the child inner face, the inner place is no longer in their hearts, yet their pocket books. Unswept crannies and nooks to unmask young romancers graves, where if you turn the page your conquest would not be seen..Two lovers one dream can they entrust all to eachother, sister and brother how thyselves you soon forgot.. The kettled *** boils to free those worldly slaves, where none behave. For god calls us all to an enlightening where the invitings for you and me not them..Forget your soo called friends for they make you stools of what was, all because fake words turned reality..For they believe as they please, their hearts are lusted, theyve spoiled their seed.. Open your eyes new age 60s generation, where **** and *********** are now your wicked god..You fashionistas you comfortable slobs...How lost you have become in fornications, where the world is your heaven, your divided nations are bound to fall sometime soon....
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 12:43 PM UTC
I would rather draw awkwardly
than have a sleep without dreams..
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
A slight throbbing where my skull takes a dip.
A faint ringing in the ears.
A large nose barely pointed at the tip
and a hole backpack of fears just waiting to unzip
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
The comedian starts off with
"Ladies and gentlemen,
It's wonderful to be here in downtown Telford..."
Enid in the audience says, " Ew, I don't like his
shirt. What colour would you call that...puce?"
Edna says, " Looks more like puke to me."
Giggle giggle giggle
The comedian carries on unaware
"Yes, downtown Telford.
The Hollywood stars all holiday here y'know.
Oh yes, the place is awash with champagne and *******
He smiles ruefully. "Asif. I'm lucky to get brown ale...
and all that gets up my nose is the wife!"
Enid says, "I don't get that."
The comic continues,
"My wife is very demanding y'know....
She says to me recently that she wants more ***
The ****** woman's never satisfied....."
Edna says, "That reminds me....
how did you go on with him from packing?"
"Well...." says Enid.........
and the comic continues
"More *** at her age.......!
So, I thinks to meself, I'll play along, so
I says....What's the matter with you!
Ain't once a year enough for you?
Quick as a flash she says, "No it ain't.
I'm sick of waiting for Santa!"
Enid says ".....I just saw this purple thing.
I had no idea what it was 'till I touched it!"
Much laughter ensues
And comedy continues.
By Phil Roberts
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 11:31 AM UTC
Two tangling tounges, where life's streams flow and run beyond the masterpiece brook. Acushla, where art thou? To ease me from prison time crooks?
Analgesic saliva tempers these soft healed wounds, where monkeys turn baboons into sackclothe bezoar poses!!!!
A betwixt of no selection,............///////////
Bilateral to street intersections, main arteries closed upon for clogging!
Heartfelt loggings are manuscript to billows binary made for two, yet if you stay one , what's the fun in that?
Dog's to roam, cats to moan cog coindications separate to what Is....
Danderers are wildly sprung, shaved faces to bearded ones, are we all alone?
The defeasance of romance has left the gardens where blossoms are not alarming, yet few do grow there....
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
once i had a girlfriend
she done gone
i got meself another one
--------
--------
--------
years dey come an den dey go
all my girlfriends i remember
sweet so sweet
all the girlfriends i remember
--------
--------
--------
once i had a girlfriend
she done gone
i got meself another one
another one another one
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 2:46 PM UTC
Here is a memory from 14 years ago
I was sheltering meself from
Mommy's 3 o'clock shadow
Peeping through her long floral skirt
It smelled of flowers too
I pursed my lips and gave her a pout
"Hush now, little girl...everything's okay"
I doubt
as her 3 o'clock shadow
continues to tick-tock
4 then 5
tick-tock
then it striked 6
I followed her shoes
as it steps on crunching
autumn leaves
I am no longer shaded
by her long silhouette
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
Tyrent minds beautifully engraved to street sign metal, purified pedals glow to tunnels only angels see.. Try and believe we are what we need when the clouds come swinging in, storms to grins and awakenings of whats new. Sins come with clues when the gas stations empty, lost believer, cross deceiver your mind is full and plenty..Sunglass highway take those fashionists to their old clubs, where girls turn to thugs with tattoos of fiercesome fright, dogs howl at moons baboons turn to, while leather is skin blood tight. volunteers in kitchens where heat is a hundred degrees, ones on knees just to make a cheap buck, beggers cant be givers when sinners are bigger than your orriginal drug bust.. Talented shakespherean, master's invitation given to only those who fit. have you won your prize, one with soft baby eyes your stuck to wordly grips.... Heavenly hips ive yet to find, where one turns boys to men and devils to false ends where captivation leaves your fantasies behind..What signs will one plot? wheres one is to hot to satisfy you every need..You candy you treat how sensual are we these days...How sensual is your memory...........Title- Candy lane... By meself :))))
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
(Heated, Fiery trials,) by meself.. The time will come When our beloved planet will feel the suns quench, No breakfast or lunch to soothe that sweaty emotion..All time and devotion unravelling childhood memories, Where winters freeze, and you are still left by yourself...Kept, Wept, and melt out, Drawn to a pad of papery apprentice.. Such a menace when others think they know you, to show you such devious inventions..Of evil intention , they live to watch you die. To watch you cry and spill out all inners, Where your platters not entered into win any prizes..Miracles are few these days, The dark has infiltraded, the glooms turned to haze....Soo many Live in materialism and dreameries Lodge, where their cabin of themself is god , for they forgot who they are...phantom masks, fast cars..How a coverup to hide scarred innocence, where childplay rememberance Hits all at once...Who we really are...The cold empty bars are now lovers best friends...What a sad combination...We only have today to do our made out wills, For the numbings soo skilled this time of Infestations...Tretchery is Now the new..ALL HOT DAYS TO COME , none cool, For the furnaces will feel the excite..Days and nights will be mans worst enemy...The moon climbs the cosmic wave to show us all whats to be bound...Speakerphone sounds can no longer show humanity the reality of themselves..When will they see all belonging is there...Will they find it? or forever be Wanderers?
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
Me mothers cute
She's dying her hair right now
Because she's sick of the greys in her strands
So
Anyways
She has a plastic bag on top of her head
To keep the dye inside wrapped to a tee!!!
As I felt that warm bag
I said
(Mum)
It feels like a bag of sketti noodles
From spaghetti warehouse,
Lol
Not meaning no harm
As its in all cleanest of fun
As mother smiled back at me
I thought to meself,
Whether she dyes her strands or not
She's me mother
She'll always be beautiful to me
Despite how she may feel!!
Dyed hair or not
Tis
She's beautifully real!!!
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
(Heated, Fiery trials,) by meself.. The time will come When our beloved planet will feel the suns quench, No breakfast or lunch to soothe that sweaty emotion..All time and devotion unravelling childhood memories, Where winters freeze, and you are still left by yourself...Kept, Wept, and melt out, Drawn to a pad of papery apprentice.. Such a menace when others think they know you, to show you such devious inventions..Of evil intention , they live to watch you die. To watch you cry and spill out all inners, Where your platters not entered into win any prizes..Miracles are few these days, The dark has infiltraded, the glooms turned to haze....Soo many Live in materialism and dreameries Lodge, where their cabin of themself is god , for they forgot who they are...phantom masks, fast cars..How a coverup to hide scarred innocence, where childplay rememberance Hits all at once...Who we really are...The cold empty bars are now lovers best friends...What a sad combination...We only have today to do our made out wills, For the numbings soo skilled this time of Infestations...Tretchery is Now the new..ALL HOT DAYS TO COME , none cool, For the furnaces will feel the excite..Days and nights will be mans worst enemy...The moon climbs the cosmic wave to show us all whats to be bound...Speakerphone sounds can no longer show humanity the reality of themselves..When will they see all belonging is there...Will they find it? or forever be Wanderers?
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
(Cross heavy) Old found poetry by meself...A cross to bear, nails to tear thick through. Canst thou shovel thine own grave? Gravedigger art thou payed yet for thy expenses? No message's coming on in. Just burdenful sins to cut the blue made veins, where the bloodiest of stains grapple no completing. The dogs are teething as babies to the **** ******** stay stuck in the devils inventions, none to know or mention what society seems to fail. Do we prevail? or get conquered to lost woe fears? Holy spirit shalt thou come near to be thy carriage i lay this carrion body? Claireaudience has found me barraged in darkest of flagrant sadness. Such madness have i been born into, or was the madness thrived in me? No locks nor keys to pass, Limbos fated match, Chimera's live hatched where no love has been given.......
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC