"naff" poems - Hello Poetry

if words are food for the mind, then here is a glimpse of mine if words are drugs for the brain, then here is why i'm so pained. abandoned, abhorrent abnormal, absent abstract, abuse addicted, anxious betray, bitterly blank, blasphemy bloodless, breakdown breathless, brutal captive, casually catastrophe, cautiously change, cigarettes crucial, clueless damaged, dangerous deadly, disastrous disheartened, disconcerting dramatic, dreading eager, eccentric ecstasy, eerie effete, effortless embittered, excess faded, failure faintly, fallacy faltering, fatally fearfully, finally garbage, gawky gibberish, gloomy gone, goodbye graphic, gratify hallucinate, harshly hazy, heartless hectic, helpless hesitant, hit-and-miss idiotic, idly ignorant, intimacy illogical, imaginative infatuated, intoxicated jealousy, jittery journey, journal joylessly, judicial junk, juvenile keen, killing knavish, knocking knockout, knotty knowingly, knowledge laborious, lacking lame, languishing lifeless, literature lovelorn, lugubrious madness, maintenance make-believe, malaise mean, melancholic mellow, melodramatic naff, naivety nameless, naturally nauseous, nebulous neglected, nervous oasis, objectionable obliged, obliterate oblivion, obscurity obsolete, one-and-only pacifist, pained pale, panicky paradise, paralyze passionately, passively raging, ranting rationalize, raving realistic, reasonable rebellious, reckless saboteur, sadness sake, sameness sanity, satisfactory scar, steady taint, tangled tasteless, tearful telling, temperamental terror, theoretical unaffected, uncanny uncommon, unconsciously undesirable, uneasy unfortunate, untidy vaguely, vanish vanity, vanquish versatile, vicious violence, voracious waiting, waking walkout, wanting wasteful, weary withering, wrecking if words are food for the mind, then you've seen a glimpse of mine if words are drugs for the brain, then no wonder i'm so pained. -djs

0

Aug 5, 2013

Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC

djs

a glimpse of my mind

if words are food for the mind, then here is a glimpse of mine if words are drugs for the brain, then here is why i'm so pained. abandoned, abhorrent abnormal, absent abstract, abuse addicted, anxious betray, bitterly blank, blasphemy bloodless, breakdown breathless, brutal captive, casually catastrophe, cautiously change, cigarettes crucial, clueless damaged, dangerous deadly, disastrous disheartened, disconcerting dramatic, dreading eager, eccentric ecstasy, eerie effete, effortless embittered, excess faded, failure faintly, fallacy faltering, fatally fearfully, finally garbage, gawky gibberish, gloomy gone, goodbye graphic, gratify hallucinate, harshly hazy, heartless hectic, helpless hesitant, hit-and-miss idiotic, idly ignorant, intimacy illogical, imaginative infatuated, intoxicated jealousy, jittery journey, journal joylessly, judicial junk, juvenile keen, killing knavish, knocking knockout, knotty knowingly, knowledge laborious, lacking lame, languishing lifeless, literature lovelorn, lugubrious madness, maintenance make-believe, malaise mean, melancholic mellow, melodramatic naff, naivety nameless, naturally nauseous, nebulous neglected, nervous oasis, objectionable obliged, obliterate oblivion, obscurity obsolete, one-and-only pacifist, pained pale, panicky paradise, paralyze passionately, passively raging, ranting rationalize, raving realistic, reasonable rebellious, reckless saboteur, sadness sake, sameness sanity, satisfactory scar, steady taint, tangled tasteless, tearful telling, temperamental terror, theoretical unaffected, uncanny uncommon, unconsciously undesirable, uneasy unfortunate, untidy vaguely, vanish vanity, vanquish versatile, vicious violence, voracious waiting, waking walkout, wanting wasteful, weary withering, wrecking if words are food for the mind, then you've seen a glimpse of mine if words are drugs for the brain, then no wonder i'm so pained. -djs

97

**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy. As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures. Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being. Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the spunk. If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself. Fuck your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses. Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge. Cock sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man. Nevertheless let this not ********* you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion. Touch yourself. To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches. Neither be cheeky about ****** ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist. Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness. Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity. But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings. Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness. Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself. You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end. And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should. Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** intercourse. With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory. Stand pert. Die in the attempt to be boozed up.

0

Apr 3, 2010

Apr 3, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC

irma-cerrutti

Desiderata

**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy. As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures. Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being. Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the spunk. If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself. Fuck your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses. Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge. Cock sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man. Nevertheless let this not ********* you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion. Touch yourself. To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches. Neither be cheeky about ****** ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist. Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness. Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity. But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings. Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness. Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself. You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end. And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should. Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** intercourse. With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory. Stand pert. Die in the attempt to be boozed up.

1

someone out in cyber-land might just be copying a poem which they'll attribute to their own tee unscrupulous replicators have no qualms on flagrantly stealing the lines from genuine arms when they take a fancy to your brilliance of verse they'll naff off with all or part of it and stow it within their purse piracy is rife around online writing dales and dells it's the pilfering of an authentic author's heart and soul bells they say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery but an alternate opinion would say plagiarists are bereft of an original wordage battery

0

Aug 2, 2018

Aug 2, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC

ElizabethSquires

Original Wordage Battery

someone out in cyber-land might just be copying a poem which they'll attribute to their own tee unscrupulous replicators have no qualms on flagrantly stealing the lines from genuine arms when they take a fancy to your brilliance of verse they'll naff off with all or part of it and stow it within their purse piracy is rife around online writing dales and dells it's the pilfering of an authentic author's heart and soul bells they say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery but an alternate opinion would say plagiarists are bereft of an original wordage battery

21

Sloane swallows. ***** is **** I execrate extraterrestrial. We are all kaput to conk out. Pollyanna is singular hanky—panky. Little green men are unpatriotic, perverted and naughty. I verily don’t grease a ***** Oojakapivvycum. If you are amphibious that means you are an effervescent ventriloquist capable of Cannibalism, cannibalism and cannibalism. The fluid inside the android is so gothic and naff It is knock—kneed in the face of flashing ********** I do not feel that I am on the shoulders of cobber doggies. I am protoplastically lassoed abutting penetrating vampire and pervert That penetrate ***** creature. I have pricked little green men myself and taken pleasure in it. It is only with the help of bad hair days of groupies that I have not been in Sing Sing. We are all sadomasochistically decomposing in a heap of our own meconium. I bore stiff to outstrip yours truly as much as I have room to swing a cat from Ku Klux **** But I am as complicit in the android’s ****** abuse as it were android *** Little green men ***** me as I ***** myself. I ***** bug—eyed men’s ******* types as I have perpetually vomited Molotov cocktail. I smell little green men’s filth televised on their ******* types. I feel like I am inside a crust of cancers who delight in smelling others bonk upstairs, Ad hominen id. Ex post facto, I am too much of a dastard to throw cold water on myself. I coagulate gungily to my menstrual gibbering ****** Castrating anti—Semite to flash me abutting crème de la crème. Strenuously, my ***** gluts under one’s nose because that is all there is.

0

Mar 21, 2010

Mar 21, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC

irma-cerrutti

We Are All Sadomasochistically Decomposing In A Heap Of Our Own Meconium

Sloane swallows. ***** is **** I execrate extraterrestrial. We are all kaput to conk out. Pollyanna is singular hanky—panky. Little green men are unpatriotic, perverted and naughty. I verily don’t grease a ***** Oojakapivvycum. If you are amphibious that means you are an effervescent ventriloquist capable of Cannibalism, cannibalism and cannibalism. The fluid inside the android is so gothic and naff It is knock—kneed in the face of flashing ********** I do not feel that I am on the shoulders of cobber doggies. I am protoplastically lassoed abutting penetrating vampire and pervert That penetrate ***** creature. I have pricked little green men myself and taken pleasure in it. It is only with the help of bad hair days of groupies that I have not been in Sing Sing. We are all sadomasochistically decomposing in a heap of our own meconium. I bore stiff to outstrip yours truly as much as I have room to swing a cat from Ku Klux **** But I am as complicit in the android’s ****** abuse as it were android *** Little green men ***** me as I ***** myself. I ***** bug—eyed men’s ******* types as I have perpetually vomited Molotov cocktail. I smell little green men’s filth televised on their ******* types. I feel like I am inside a crust of cancers who delight in smelling others bonk upstairs, Ad hominen id. Ex post facto, I am too much of a dastard to throw cold water on myself. I coagulate gungily to my menstrual gibbering ****** Castrating anti—Semite to flash me abutting crème de la crème. Strenuously, my ***** gluts under one’s nose because that is all there is.

29

there is a wrestle going on inside of me an epic match nAch vs nAff **At one end “Duty”-the undefeated ruling champion And at the other end “Desire”-a strong contender for the title** Come and watch this fight to the death! get out the fizz and popcorn join the fun! see me oscillate-between one and the other i’m like an old grandfather clock can’t decide this lunacy is felt in my deepest self, my core stretched so far I’m torn apart every limb every pore seethes in the anticipation of the win my mind bounces off the walls I wonder what the point is at all- someday this will end in a drunken brawl. - Vijayalakshmi Harish 07.09.2012 Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

0

Sep 7, 2012

Sep 7, 2012 at 12:19 PM UTC

vijayalakshmi-harish

Dharma Vs Kama

there is a wrestle going on inside of me an epic match nAch vs nAff **At one end “Duty”-the undefeated ruling champion And at the other end “Desire”-a strong contender for the title** Come and watch this fight to the death! get out the fizz and popcorn join the fun! see me oscillate-between one and the other i’m like an old grandfather clock can’t decide this lunacy is felt in my deepest self, my core stretched so far I’m torn apart every limb every pore seethes in the anticipation of the win my mind bounces off the walls I wonder what the point is at all- someday this will end in a drunken brawl. - Vijayalakshmi Harish 07.09.2012 Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

23

DONT DO DRUGS KIDS O a sis, John cooper clarke. Pink floyd, getting ****** in the park. ****** crack co caine. ****** messed up again. Council estate, tmazipan, ****** taliban. A paper cup and a ball of string, Ive lost me phone I'll use anythin. Trying to get hold of my man, Thames Valley police catch me if u can. Tried to get the monkey off my back, fallen down and landed in the crack .. between the pavements, easy street, walking round no shoes on ma feet. Touch this and you'll get burnt. Been 20 years and I still havent learnt. Loosing teeth, bad legs, getting older. Are the winters getting colder? Global warming ... What the **** ****** ..coming in on a salad truck. Chav pants, naff fkin trainers, little going on ... no brainers. Mental health, welfare state, think your spot on, think your great. Urban people telling how it is. Fk me, took to much whizz. Walking round, feeling fantastic, look at me dancing, pretty tragic really ... Stupidly asked some bloke to dance, now im in the back of an amb ulance. A saturday casualty. Its an average weekend for me. Going mad, on a ****** **** you world, No surrender. (c) mandy rigby and p skez 2012) (now 4 yrs clean .. can i get an Amen?)

0

May 9, 2014

May 9, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC

mandy-rigby

DONT DO DRUGS KIDS

DONT DO DRUGS KIDS O a sis, John cooper clarke. Pink floyd, getting ****** in the park. ****** crack co caine. ****** messed up again. Council estate, tmazipan, ****** taliban. A paper cup and a ball of string, Ive lost me phone I'll use anythin. Trying to get hold of my man, Thames Valley police catch me if u can. Tried to get the monkey off my back, fallen down and landed in the crack .. between the pavements, easy street, walking round no shoes on ma feet. Touch this and you'll get burnt. Been 20 years and I still havent learnt. Loosing teeth, bad legs, getting older. Are the winters getting colder? Global warming ... What the **** ****** ..coming in on a salad truck. Chav pants, naff fkin trainers, little going on ... no brainers. Mental health, welfare state, think your spot on, think your great. Urban people telling how it is. Fk me, took to much whizz. Walking round, feeling fantastic, look at me dancing, pretty tragic really ... Stupidly asked some bloke to dance, now im in the back of an amb ulance. A saturday casualty. Its an average weekend for me. Going mad, on a ****** **** you world, No surrender. (c) mandy rigby and p skez 2012) (now 4 yrs clean .. can i get an Amen?)

40

The Chief of the General Staff awoke To the ring of the telephone, He’d tried to ****** a couple of hours At his Hunting Lodge, in Scone, But the red phone was insistent, it Would ring ‘til he picked it up, ‘For God’s sake Carter, what’s it now?’ The answer was abrupt. ‘The Early Warning’s gone to red, They need you down at Staff! Hang on, I’m going to patch you through We’re not sure if it’s naff. It didn’t go through to orange as It usually does at first, But we can’t afford to take a chance…’ The General’s lips were pursed. ‘Scramble the FA-18’s Are the carriers out, d’you know?’ ‘There’s two in the Med and one caught dead In the dock at Scapa Flow! The Seventh Army’s at Aldershot And the Fifth’s in the Middle East.’ ‘Well, whether the troops are out or not It’s Martial Law, at least.’ The Action Room in the basement of A secret place in Poole, Had interrupted a war game with The Army Training School. The radar screens were alight with scenes Beamed in from the new AWAC’s, With missiles coming from everywhere ‘We need to be hitting back!’ The submarines were alerted to Prepare their missile racks, The silo’s over in Kansas armed And ready to attack, Then suddenly in the Action Room The radar screens were clear, There wasn’t a single sign or trace Of a missile coming near. And down in a London Nursing Home They were leading him away, A nice old fellow with Parkinson’s With a half-full breakfast tray, They snapped the lid of his laptop Told him, ‘George, you’re going to be canned!’ He said, ‘I just got the hang of it, That game called ‘The High Command!’’ David Lewis Paget

0

Oct 25, 2013

Oct 25, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC

david-lewis-paget

The High Command

The Chief of the General Staff awoke To the ring of the telephone, He’d tried to ****** a couple of hours At his Hunting Lodge, in Scone, But the red phone was insistent, it Would ring ‘til he picked it up, ‘For God’s sake Carter, what’s it now?’ The answer was abrupt. ‘The Early Warning’s gone to red, They need you down at Staff! Hang on, I’m going to patch you through We’re not sure if it’s naff. It didn’t go through to orange as It usually does at first, But we can’t afford to take a chance…’ The General’s lips were pursed. ‘Scramble the FA-18’s Are the carriers out, d’you know?’ ‘There’s two in the Med and one caught dead In the dock at Scapa Flow! The Seventh Army’s at Aldershot And the Fifth’s in the Middle East.’ ‘Well, whether the troops are out or not It’s Martial Law, at least.’ The Action Room in the basement of A secret place in Poole, Had interrupted a war game with The Army Training School. The radar screens were alight with scenes Beamed in from the new AWAC’s, With missiles coming from everywhere ‘We need to be hitting back!’ The submarines were alerted to Prepare their missile racks, The silo’s over in Kansas armed And ready to attack, Then suddenly in the Action Room The radar screens were clear, There wasn’t a single sign or trace Of a missile coming near. And down in a London Nursing Home They were leading him away, A nice old fellow with Parkinson’s With a half-full breakfast tray, They snapped the lid of his laptop Told him, ‘George, you’re going to be canned!’ He said, ‘I just got the hang of it, That game called ‘The High Command!’’ David Lewis Paget

49

My insecurities leave me broken wonderful is my self doubt and if I needed an assassin then I am him to **** me So many times I have reservation that I can't go all the way with you yet there is a spark within that pulls me and makes me Like the bulldog spirit I will endure in this fight I am battle friendly a masters in war arts Even my own look at me as a fool well fair play to them I am yet I will carry on like the naff films I loved For I start in black and white and wait for my colours by the last of days of Earth I will still stand and fight By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

0

Dec 17, 2013

Dec 17, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC

christos-andreas-kourtis

Stand And Fight

My insecurities leave me broken wonderful is my self doubt and if I needed an assassin then I am him to **** me So many times I have reservation that I can't go all the way with you yet there is a spark within that pulls me and makes me Like the bulldog spirit I will endure in this fight I am battle friendly a masters in war arts Even my own look at me as a fool well fair play to them I am yet I will carry on like the naff films I loved For I start in black and white and wait for my colours by the last of days of Earth I will still stand and fight By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

21

After wide-set earthen towers mask the highway runoff, campers come off lofty horses, signal boorishness to breeze. Sat alone where rolling orange will tease the peace from perfect dark - the hint of dread forgoing litness to expose a martial bode - the low-slung limbs of stern bring trained to-wrist like faithful, catching glimpses of what common good afforded us naff hazes like the present sickle answer, whale-bone grief and prescient danger. Fix a poultice, love’s soft landing seldom not for treasures come. Revive the brazen lungs in boasts of rushes, random-lit, forestalling sodden semblances of wit from Sunday’s arsenal - right-matched to cleaner absences than your limited souls could ever pare. She’s felt - a fabric after our own hearts, a loan from common waltzes, taciturn in downshifts of this archen land - of course - of hand, a slight anomaly for watchers to observe. Each roadblock touches nerve.

0

Sep 3, 2018

Sep 3, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC

rausmend

Abiding Exit

After wide-set earthen towers mask the highway runoff, campers come off lofty horses, signal boorishness to breeze. Sat alone where rolling orange will tease the peace from perfect dark - the hint of dread forgoing litness to expose a martial bode - the low-slung limbs of stern bring trained to-wrist like faithful, catching glimpses of what common good afforded us naff hazes like the present sickle answer, whale-bone grief and prescient danger. Fix a poultice, love’s soft landing seldom not for treasures come. Revive the brazen lungs in boasts of rushes, random-lit, forestalling sodden semblances of wit from Sunday’s arsenal - right-matched to cleaner absences than your limited souls could ever pare. She’s felt - a fabric after our own hearts, a loan from common waltzes, taciturn in downshifts of this archen land - of course - of hand, a slight anomaly for watchers to observe. Each roadblock touches nerve.

26

I. season of goodwill exchanging of gifts beneath artificial tree ----- II. time for family trinkets spill from cheap crackers exhausted punchlines ----- III. time for tradition same old movies for children naff celeb specials

0

Dec 22, 2023

Dec 22, 2023 at 4:02 PM UTC

reece-aj-chambers

Christmas Times

I. season of goodwill exchanging of gifts beneath artificial tree ----- II. time for family trinkets spill from cheap crackers exhausted punchlines ----- III. time for tradition same old movies for children naff celeb specials

14

There's a face in the clouds and it is poking its tongue out at me, cheeky blighter, I ought to write a poem about that. Saturday and the butler has the day off which is a bit off if you ask me, I expect butlers go to church on Sunday and they'll be wanting that off too, well, they can naff off, I can't do all the work around here.

0

Jul 31, 2021

Jul 31, 2021 at 4:03 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

In neutral

There's a face in the clouds and it is poking its tongue out at me, cheeky blighter, I ought to write a poem about that. Saturday and the butler has the day off which is a bit off if you ask me, I expect butlers go to church on Sunday and they'll be wanting that off too, well, they can naff off, I can't do all the work around here.

15