Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"objectionable" poems
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
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
Continue reading...
97
Once a **** is given, one can not get it back. I heard somewhere recently that people are the most creative at the times they think that they are utterly useless: like in the morning before getting coffee or while surrounded by ******* co-workers who won't shut up about their stupid gun collection (cause seriously, no one cares about how big your **** isn't, Phil.) The amount of ***** anyone can give in a day varies based of many factors - the amount of sleep someone has the night before or if they ate breakfast that morning, for example, can determine how many ***** a person has to spare. It is in that spirit - despite my better judgement - I am writing to you at four AM. Sitting in my underwear, Forcing my eyes to stay open, licking my dust-dry lips. and realizing that I forgot to brush my teeth - I'm writing that tid-bit that down in hopes it will embarrass me into making a proper oral hygiene choice sometime in between when I finish writing this and before I pass out from exhaustion. If someone deems a person or a situation not worth their emotional effort, they can choose to not give a **** despite having ***** they can give. Today at work: Everyone kept asking me if I was alright I told them that I think so - because, that's the truth. But also because it's easier to say than "I don't want to be here, and your face annoys me" A **** is approximately two damns. A **** is two ***** and a **** is two rat's ***** I don't have much to say in this piece So I'm hoping that self-deprecation and artsy-fartsy stream of consciousness still passes for decent poetry these days. Taking a **** is morally objectionable.
0
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 4:38 AM UTC
A **** is a unit of emotional effort.
Once a **** is given, one can not get it back. I heard somewhere recently that people are the most creative at the times they think that they are utterly useless: like in the morning before getting coffee or while surrounded by ******* co-workers who won't shut up about their stupid gun collection (cause seriously, no one cares about how big your **** isn't, Phil.) The amount of ***** anyone can give in a day varies based of many factors - the amount of sleep someone has the night before or if they ate breakfast that morning, for example, can determine how many ***** a person has to spare. It is in that spirit - despite my better judgement - I am writing to you at four AM. Sitting in my underwear, Forcing my eyes to stay open, licking my dust-dry lips. and realizing that I forgot to brush my teeth - I'm writing that tid-bit that down in hopes it will embarrass me into making a proper oral hygiene choice sometime in between when I finish writing this and before I pass out from exhaustion. If someone deems a person or a situation not worth their emotional effort, they can choose to not give a **** despite having ***** they can give. Today at work: Everyone kept asking me if I was alright I told them that I think so - because, that's the truth. But also because it's easier to say than "I don't want to be here, and your face annoys me" A **** is approximately two damns. A **** is two ***** and a **** is two rat's ***** I don't have much to say in this piece So I'm hoping that self-deprecation and artsy-fartsy stream of consciousness still passes for decent poetry these days. Taking a **** is morally objectionable.
Continue reading...
30
-Be courteous and respectful. If you don't like a writer, their style, or their work, just move on. Harassment or abuse of other members will not be tolerated. -Do not post overtly obscene, hateful, or objectionable content. If in doubt, contact us at [email protected] about posting your work. -Do not spam. Over posting comments, posting advertisements, sending too many messages, or creating too many groups all constitute spamming. We're reasonable on this, since we trust you know the difference between being active and spammy. -Do not post content that you do not have the rights to. Read more about this in our Terms of Use
0
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
Hello Poetry Community Guidlines
i'm dead serious about conceptualising a su doku...                i'm on the basis of fractions...   praxis            9                               /  4                    optical coordination of stressors of furthered insertion for some reason i cited:            9 x 6 = 51                          and then           9 x 9 = 81...               **** 1 is such a difficult number to muster / master in a goemetric class...      1 isn't exactly geometrically "sound" -                        hello φoνoς - alternatively, when you're doing a really hard su doku, quote this quasi-copernican interpretation, i.e. doing the puzzle "lying down"...      i dunno(h)... when complexity arises    numbers "lying down" makes perfect sense...      su doku?         it's like onomatopoeia in terms of arrangement... 81? and it's still a perfect square?!               o.k. o.k. (leo getz style),                          ω                    3          ß                          m          what the **** was alternative to the said?         u p         d         o         w         n                             p                                        u                                        d o w n                                   by now you're ****** kidding...       M 3          Σ       W                                  my name's matthew, so you can imagine why i get all hot and bothered about this variation.       now for some dead etymology (i,e, i don't give a **** where the words came from, i just like the way they sound) -      poligon,                               okop.      all, if any, emotional intelligence equates        itself toward an intensity status...        i.e.         the more you feel, the more                            your emotional competence... for sure... apathy is the "placebo" guarantee                      cure   for any type of pathos -        or the λoγoς of guaranteed explanations.    to be honest?                λoγoς has been reduced to a suffix status with that basic "accomplishment" of -ology.        another "funny" word... by was of saying: it's actually a city...                              Płock -                                                    Łódz*, alternatively? let's juggle             ò (grave)            &       ó (acute)....       now i see the funny side of the tetragrammaton concept... it really is omnipresent...         between           ò       &      ó     you want the sort of incisor that's basically |     straight...                       something that really might **** off god once and for all...            with nietzsche it didn't really happen...          i mean an    |                               o                               that would get rid of god in the classical roman sense of:               oh...       and return to the omicron basis                    for having revealed a phonetic encoding that's simply O...     and that means doing away with the god's portion of a hammer (H) -                      or the second syllable of the name:                     η          - weh...                                          eta weh... i'd start translation phonetic encoding if i were you...             that variant stated? eta?               it's also called: a short e....             the opposite like loki to thor?       epsilon... and it's called the long e...       in greek it's ε, in latin it's the basis for avoiding diacritical confrontation / application...     i.e.          ee           in the word keep,       e.g.
0
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
objectionable fractions
i'm dead serious about conceptualising a su doku...                i'm on the basis of fractions...   praxis            9                               /  4                    optical coordination of stressors of furthered insertion for some reason i cited:            9 x 6 = 51                          and then           9 x 9 = 81...               **** 1 is such a difficult number to muster / master in a goemetric class...      1 isn't exactly geometrically "sound" -                        hello φoνoς - alternatively, when you're doing a really hard su doku, quote this quasi-copernican interpretation, i.e. doing the puzzle "lying down"...      i dunno(h)... when complexity arises    numbers "lying down" makes perfect sense...      su doku?         it's like onomatopoeia in terms of arrangement... 81? and it's still a perfect square?!               o.k. o.k. (leo getz style),                          ω                    3          ß                          m          what the **** was alternative to the said?         u p         d         o         w         n                             p                                        u                                        d o w n                                   by now you're ****** kidding...       M 3          Σ       W                                  my name's matthew, so you can imagine why i get all hot and bothered about this variation.       now for some dead etymology (i,e, i don't give a **** where the words came from, i just like the way they sound) -      poligon,                               okop.      all, if any, emotional intelligence equates        itself toward an intensity status...        i.e.         the more you feel, the more                            your emotional competence... for sure... apathy is the "placebo" guarantee                      cure   for any type of pathos -        or the λoγoς of guaranteed explanations.    to be honest?                λoγoς has been reduced to a suffix status with that basic "accomplishment" of -ology.        another "funny" word... by was of saying: it's actually a city...                              Płock -                                                    Łódz*, alternatively? let's juggle             ò (grave)            &       ó (acute)....       now i see the funny side of the tetragrammaton concept... it really is omnipresent...         between           ò       &      ó     you want the sort of incisor that's basically |     straight...                       something that really might **** off god once and for all...            with nietzsche it didn't really happen...          i mean an    |                               o                               that would get rid of god in the classical roman sense of:               oh...       and return to the omicron basis                    for having revealed a phonetic encoding that's simply O...     and that means doing away with the god's portion of a hammer (H) -                      or the second syllable of the name:                     η          - weh...                                          eta weh... i'd start translation phonetic encoding if i were you...             that variant stated? eta?               it's also called: a short e....             the opposite like loki to thor?       epsilon... and it's called the long e...       in greek it's ε, in latin it's the basis for avoiding diacritical confrontation / application...     i.e.          ee           in the word keep,       e.g.
Continue reading...
86
The coffee dripping down my throat Was okay Lights seemed obnoxiously interrupting Which was fine Sound reached me at an average speed I guess better than being deaf My blood didn't get enough sleep Eyes a little timid of objectionable presence I was a teacher today Seen better days But it was honestly Okay Average found me accepting Warm embrace of spinal taps Laying my head on my pillow Was decent I will find tomorrow in its entirety Willing to exist in awkward small talk During bad weather Moderately mumbling about ordinary things Like today
0
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
Today felt, ordinary
I sit in a bar with Miss Pinkie; her son, who is a copper, is getting the drinks. She looks at me and says: we are just friends if he asks (as if I was going to tell him I was rogering his mother) and don't talk politics or say you write poetry. I will be the perfect gentleman, I reply. Her son comes with the drinks: a whiskey for his mother, a beer for me and a lemonade for himself; he sits down and gazes at me. So, Benedict, what do you do for a living? I'm a nurse, I work with your mum. He looks at Miss Pinkie, then at me. What do you do? I ask, giving him the Mr Innocence stare. I'm a police officer; aiming for C.I.D. He sits upright in the chair, brushing a hand over his dark hair. What do you think of the IRA? Miss Pinkie stares at me as if I'd let wind go in public. They're a murderous lot, he says; you don't support them do you? No, I don't support them; I agree with their objectives, but not their methods of achieving those objectives. He looks at Miss Pinkie and she looks at us both as if she didn't know who we were. Both their objectives and methods are objectionable. He takes a sip of his lemonade as if the very words were distasteful in his mouth; I sip my beer; his mother gulps her whiskey. What do you do when you're not being a nurse and involved in “leftist” politics? I listen to music: Wagner, Delius and Mahler, and that crowd. High-Brow stuff; I like Johnny Mathis myself. He wears a smug expression and looks at his mother; she looks at her glass. What else do you do apart from listening to music? he asks. I write poems and read books. You're not a queer are you? He stares at me suspiciously, then looks at his mother. Would I be with your mum if I were? Miss Pinkie looks at me; her blue eyes are large as a cow's. What do you mean? he says. Another drink? I say, another lemonade? He means, Miss Pinkie says, we're good friends, and he's not that way inclined. He stares at me with a hard glare, but I don't mind.
0
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
MEETING MISS PINKIE'S SON. 1974.
I sit in a bar with Miss Pinkie; her son, who is a copper, is getting the drinks. She looks at me and says: we are just friends if he asks (as if I was going to tell him I was rogering his mother) and don't talk politics or say you write poetry. I will be the perfect gentleman, I reply. Her son comes with the drinks: a whiskey for his mother, a beer for me and a lemonade for himself; he sits down and gazes at me. So, Benedict, what do you do for a living? I'm a nurse, I work with your mum. He looks at Miss Pinkie, then at me. What do you do? I ask, giving him the Mr Innocence stare. I'm a police officer; aiming for C.I.D. He sits upright in the chair, brushing a hand over his dark hair. What do you think of the IRA? Miss Pinkie stares at me as if I'd let wind go in public. They're a murderous lot, he says; you don't support them do you? No, I don't support them; I agree with their objectives, but not their methods of achieving those objectives. He looks at Miss Pinkie and she looks at us both as if she didn't know who we were. Both their objectives and methods are objectionable. He takes a sip of his lemonade as if the very words were distasteful in his mouth; I sip my beer; his mother gulps her whiskey. What do you do when you're not being a nurse and involved in “leftist” politics? I listen to music: Wagner, Delius and Mahler, and that crowd. High-Brow stuff; I like Johnny Mathis myself. He wears a smug expression and looks at his mother; she looks at her glass. What else do you do apart from listening to music? he asks. I write poems and read books. You're not a queer are you? He stares at me suspiciously, then looks at his mother. Would I be with your mum if I were? Miss Pinkie looks at me; her blue eyes are large as a cow's. What do you mean? he says. Another drink? I say, another lemonade? He means, Miss Pinkie says, we're good friends, and he's not that way inclined. He stares at me with a hard glare, but I don't mind.
Continue reading...
113
This is not a poem about unrequited love              not a poem about the changing of the seasons,                                                     babbling brooks,                                                     cloudless skies,                                                     English gardens in full bloom              not a poem about setting suns, starry skies,                                              full moons, glittering galaxies                  not a poem about absent fathers,                                              weepy mothers or your cranky old                                              Aunt Clara in the attic plotting                                              your death while her dentures soak                                              in a Polident bath cup              not a poem about the existence or non-existence of                                                     a Supreme Being              not a poem about when you abandoned your children                                              or when your children abandoned you              not a poem about poverty, social isolation,                                              the Holocaust, war, the evils of                                              capitalism, the specter of  injustice,                                              the injustice of inequality, the                                              inequality of injustice or any other                                              word attached to the prefix "in"              not a poem about ****** conquest, ****** dreams,                                              the effects of liquor or drugs                                              on one's libido              not a poem that uses the f-word, the s-word, the c-word                                                          ...or any of the other                                                             objectionable words used                                                             to "front" the remaining                                                             letters of the alphabet This is clearly a poem about what is not a poem
0
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
Not A Poem
This is not a poem about unrequited love              not a poem about the changing of the seasons,                                                     babbling brooks,                                                     cloudless skies,                                                     English gardens in full bloom              not a poem about setting suns, starry skies,                                              full moons, glittering galaxies                  not a poem about absent fathers,                                              weepy mothers or your cranky old                                              Aunt Clara in the attic plotting                                              your death while her dentures soak                                              in a Polident bath cup              not a poem about the existence or non-existence of                                                     a Supreme Being              not a poem about when you abandoned your children                                              or when your children abandoned you              not a poem about poverty, social isolation,                                              the Holocaust, war, the evils of                                              capitalism, the specter of  injustice,                                              the injustice of inequality, the                                              inequality of injustice or any other                                              word attached to the prefix "in"              not a poem about ****** conquest, ****** dreams,                                              the effects of liquor or drugs                                              on one's libido              not a poem that uses the f-word, the s-word, the c-word                                                          ...or any of the other                                                             objectionable words used                                                             to "front" the remaining                                                             letters of the alphabet This is clearly a poem about what is not a poem
Continue reading...
39
The nonstop negative news or publicities on Haiti Hurt tremendously and disturbingly The relentless or constant bashings of all Haitians Twinge and twist my heart like cancer patients On their death beds, who are resigned, hopeless Penniless, helpless, and spiritless. Haiti needs a mega break from all the powerful parasites That are still exploiting our precious resources at countless sites While concomitantly exploring and impoverishing our peasants Our innocent siblings who perilously work for crumbs and cents. It is time that all truths are spoken or be told It is time that we unearth, unfurl or unfold All vile plots so the world can witness the premeditated lies. Papa Noël is a well designed invention in disguise At Christmas time, the hurts are excruciating And the misery is objectionable and nauseating. Copyright © December, 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
0
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 2:49 PM UTC
Sad And Painful Tears For Haiti At Noël
The more you know, the less you do, That's the paradox, you see. Don't stray too far to either side, But find a place between. Object when objectionable, This can be clearly seen. But when subjecting the subjectable, Stay somewhere near the mean. These are the rules of life, And the rules that all should live by. Follow them with discipline, And you'll find you never die.
0
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
Centered
One day I will raise One day I will clear the shadowed fog which haunts my dreams I will evaporate the cloud which sits on my frail arms One day I will rip the paper which chooses who I am I will slice through the deceiving Ivory sheet, I'll make sure it disintegrates into the ash it came from One day I will break the steel chains which strangle my hope. I will bite through the objectionable links which encase me as their profound prisoner. One day I will be strong. I will be able to drag the burdens and memories to its final destination. I will not cower when I see the odius foul luggage stand tall and scream. I will not amalgamate with delirium as I hear Past's cries. I will persevere. One day I will fix myself. I will be able to stich the lacerations time has caused, I will be able to build the disintegrating building my mind has become. I will be able to paint my soul its luminous halo again. And maybe one day I will raise. I will raise from the fog, the paper, the chains, the past and the pain. I will raise with purity and maybe...maybe if I'm lucky...I will be graced with the simple gift of a smile. *For now I can hope... About what I will do... One day*
0
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 9:34 AM UTC
One day
Doing something wrong or objectionable, better do nothing they say, Not doing anything, better do something and make mistakes they say, Trying to do something different, you better succeed at it they say, Took me a while to find out, they themselves don't do anything, they just say !!
0
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 12:54 AM UTC
THEY SAY
toward thee spunky gal, whose impregnation and debut appearance way to brief a tale for Aesop cuz, (umpteen iterations recounted), out the birth canal aye did bop analogously compared to a mealy mouthed measly crop a spindly tangle of arms and legs radiated (starfish like) dangled and would uselessly drop like a raggedy ann male counterpart (raggedy andy - how original) with limbs that didst flop and tis no small wonder, thyself as one newborn baby body electric easily confused with bony glop, which skimpy weight leant convenience as sigh grew older to alternate jumping (ala pogo stick mode) and hop from one skinny spindle shank leg to another, and manifold orbitz whip sawing round the sun bore witness to puny laughable specimen of a nerdy lad, who (in hindsight) grew long straggly hair, which NO ONE (except me) could touch, nor most definitely NOT lop off (this fetish) compensation for very slight physique in dewed time begot pencil necked geek milksop, now at an age prowl lix sing viz dragging, crawling, battling... slight abdominal bulge unlike widower octogenarian biological pop whose once strapping superman like build atrophying (sad sight) since grim reaper put objectionable stop upon head of harriet harris, whereat two and a half score years her longevity did top. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * now, comb may tooth how zen, sans eight plus ten 'twill be thirteen yars when me late mum agonizingly relinquished an indomitable loo ving life, which strong fighting spirit (spittle and vinegar) yen reached a juncture, (sans metastasized ovarian cancer) forewent heroic measures, which ken not avail bottled anger within this sole son telling thee, he didst love ye never communicating NOR often!
0
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
a stray tear doth adieu occasionally shed...
toward thee spunky gal, whose impregnation and debut appearance way to brief a tale for Aesop cuz, (umpteen iterations recounted), out the birth canal aye did bop analogously compared to a mealy mouthed measly crop a spindly tangle of arms and legs radiated (starfish like) dangled and would uselessly drop like a raggedy ann male counterpart (raggedy andy - how original) with limbs that didst flop and tis no small wonder, thyself as one newborn baby body electric easily confused with bony glop, which skimpy weight leant convenience as sigh grew older to alternate jumping (ala pogo stick mode) and hop from one skinny spindle shank leg to another, and manifold orbitz whip sawing round the sun bore witness to puny laughable specimen of a nerdy lad, who (in hindsight) grew long straggly hair, which NO ONE (except me) could touch, nor most definitely NOT lop off (this fetish) compensation for very slight physique in dewed time begot pencil necked geek milksop, now at an age prowl lix sing viz dragging, crawling, battling... slight abdominal bulge unlike widower octogenarian biological pop whose once strapping superman like build atrophying (sad sight) since grim reaper put objectionable stop upon head of harriet harris, whereat two and a half score years her longevity did top. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * now, comb may tooth how zen, sans eight plus ten 'twill be thirteen yars when me late mum agonizingly relinquished an indomitable loo ving life, which strong fighting spirit (spittle and vinegar) yen reached a juncture, (sans metastasized ovarian cancer) forewent heroic measures, which ken not avail bottled anger within this sole son telling thee, he didst love ye never communicating NOR often!
Continue reading...
56
This atheistic, intelligent, liberal minded nonestablishmentarian christened Matthew Scott Harris, haint gotta clue, how bias, discrimination, prejudice didst brew within me noggin admitting to myself, (that though tolerant towards most other people) amidst variegated hue mankind cutting crew, I can not wholeheartedly dislodge un argue ably the stubborn presence of disagreeably unwanted notions, an effort quite few till to expunge, though not clearly delineated against gentile nor Jew the latter encompassing my genealogical lineage (as ye probably knew) though acute awareness exists that objectionable thoughts towards others coalesced and grew, sans initial aural, sensational, and visual perceptions did ensue from nearly imperceptible germinal, ephemeral, and casual brief interactions, thy amygdala and, posterior cingulate cortex (PCC) instantaneously drew nearly nsync with a single blink of thine myopic left or right human eye (which average duration 0.1 to 0.4 seconds, or 100 to 400 milliseconds) forged an unconscious initial mount'n view clocked in at 100 milliseconds or 328.0839895013123 feet per second pointing asper an expert mason hermetically sealing a psychic impression ala mortise and tenon amalgamated conglomerate enterprise glommed zoo wool logical imprimatur difficult, but not impossible loo sin and/or completely dislodge neurological hullabaloo.
0
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC
First Impressions
I wanna destroy the world Just like a villain Just like an evil I wanna no friend A fire through which I would be damage everything around me and some burning ashes on my face too I know it makes me hateable Just like a wicked I know it makes me objectionable Just like every cruel I wanna make dark all the bright places Just like my dark heart I wanna pluck happiness from the faces Just like my own This, what I'm thinking right now under my skin
0
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
Under my Skin
the look of your ****** expression really is objectionable ; you express the seedy ugly; trapped in your heart so well
0
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
So Easily
By: Cedric McClester For the good of the party They need to reassess Who’s holding the trump card In case they haven’t guessed The party of Lincoln and Reagan Has become so much less But who is nominated ultimately Will be the final test For the good of the party They need to disavow The frontrunner’s shenanigans They need to do it now The whole world is listening And watching his offensive style He alienates everyone We’ve known it for a while For the good of the party They  need to call a halt By rejecting everything he says Succinctly his gestalt If he’s perceived as a racist It’s totally his fault The whole world’s sensibility Has come under his assault For the good of the party They cannot let him claim That he’s truly one of them Because he’s not the same He is so objectionable That the word I used is tame But when we get right down to it The party must share the blame Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016.  All rights reserved.
0
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
FOR THE GOOD OF THE PARTY
(this pastiche promulgated many moons ago from those screaming ****** thirsty headlines from the Italian court for justice sans the brutal homicide attributed to this then American college student and her ex-boyfriend). My gut reaction that zero apr guilt linkedin with lonely looking lass, who may very well bear the burden of culpable guilt for the rest of (what this totally tubular unknown guy no war) a fulfilling life. with the assiduous vigor of a cadre of volunteers    brought sought after fruition of freedom per the release of imprisoned young (twenty something) American lass whose former life sentenced commuted to egress from an Italian jail to her home within Seattle, Washington whereby family, friends and strangers who fought for her liberation breathed one palpable surprising sigh of euphoric relief when the plane who boarded landed safely on the tarmac of SEATAC aswarm with frenzied television camera crews scrambled to get the initial scoop and what promises to land this once anonymous cell bait an undisclosed amount of lucre which many on the other side of the pond find mind boggling if not downright objectionable    moreso livid with rage against the Machiavellian machine on account of supposed culpability in tandem with her then boy friend accused (under the guise of guilty fiat)    sans homicide of college roommate now sought after garnering this fawning female (salaciously tagged by Perugian court with the sobriquet “she wolf” now faces a future replete with riches aplenty allowing gravity of ugly epithet plus stigma from accusation of ****** to serve as basis for what will no doubt be a best seller not to mention made for the silver screen blockbuster with subsequent royal carpet treatment to compensate for guilty judgment decreed without tangible evidence nor fair trial to boot!
0
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 3:44 AM UTC
Amanda Knox TM
(this pastiche promulgated many moons ago from those screaming ****** thirsty headlines from the Italian court for justice sans the brutal homicide attributed to this then American college student and her ex-boyfriend). My gut reaction that zero apr guilt linkedin with lonely looking lass, who may very well bear the burden of culpable guilt for the rest of (what this totally tubular unknown guy no war) a fulfilling life. with the assiduous vigor of a cadre of volunteers    brought sought after fruition of freedom per the release of imprisoned young (twenty something) American lass whose former life sentenced commuted to egress from an Italian jail to her home within Seattle, Washington whereby family, friends and strangers who fought for her liberation breathed one palpable surprising sigh of euphoric relief when the plane who boarded landed safely on the tarmac of SEATAC aswarm with frenzied television camera crews scrambled to get the initial scoop and what promises to land this once anonymous cell bait an undisclosed amount of lucre which many on the other side of the pond find mind boggling if not downright objectionable    moreso livid with rage against the Machiavellian machine on account of supposed culpability in tandem with her then boy friend accused (under the guise of guilty fiat)    sans homicide of college roommate now sought after garnering this fawning female (salaciously tagged by Perugian court with the sobriquet “she wolf” now faces a future replete with riches aplenty allowing gravity of ugly epithet plus stigma from accusation of ****** to serve as basis for what will no doubt be a best seller not to mention made for the silver screen blockbuster with subsequent royal carpet treatment to compensate for guilty judgment decreed without tangible evidence nor fair trial to boot!
Continue reading...
29
Lifeblood of democracy hemorrhaging ousting the "FAKE" president only recourse to staunch impending grim demise, since forefathers drafted United States Constitution ratified more'n two centuries ago hoi polloi must take to the streets denouncing severe curtailment impinging sacred freedom of speech linkedin with paramount bedrock provision accessing unvarnished flint ****** "truth," nonetheless commander in chief he quakingly, staunchly, vociferously... excoriates, lacerates, repudiates... one damning hermetically sealed, iniquitous airtight, vacuum packed flagrant misuse of power, (not to mention nepotism) invidious, insidious, injurious... infractions incontestable, incontrovertible, contemptible... significant melange in führer re: hating deplorably crooked basely barren factual exposé after another, deft correspondents all not quiet along western front (I heard Maria - mull remark) bring "to light" execrable, lamentable reprehensible... gross transgressions commander in chief significantly overstepped Pulitzer prize winning prestigious storied publications scathingly trounced, pillaried, lambasted, insulted, denounced, butchered, critiqued, demonized, fricassed, gored, humiliated,... pummeled, quartered, reviled courageously expounding fiend ensconced within his Taj Mahal impregnable donjon, whereat he trumpets laurels asper, nonpareil administration laying groundless accusations baring his white fangs, twittering, naysaying, mocking.. supreme renown gifted by "honest Abe" recalcitrant commander in chief, who refutes objectionable dogged investigative journalism every step of the way, where dedicated news gatherers risk life and limb firing line reportage troopers ferreting (foxlike) ***** doth gopher precious nuggets uncover alarming undisputable details impossible to refute raw bits agent provocateur freely colluding immediately hashtashed poppycock smarmy, snooty, snappy beastly capital one ogre blatantly castigating diligent endeavors oblivious pie in sky delusional egotistic haughtiness bobblehead vilified by silent majority.
0
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 9:29 PM UTC
First Amendment In Jeopardy
Lifeblood of democracy hemorrhaging ousting the "FAKE" president only recourse to staunch impending grim demise, since forefathers drafted United States Constitution ratified more'n two centuries ago hoi polloi must take to the streets denouncing severe curtailment impinging sacred freedom of speech linkedin with paramount bedrock provision accessing unvarnished flint ****** "truth," nonetheless commander in chief he quakingly, staunchly, vociferously... excoriates, lacerates, repudiates... one damning hermetically sealed, iniquitous airtight, vacuum packed flagrant misuse of power, (not to mention nepotism) invidious, insidious, injurious... infractions incontestable, incontrovertible, contemptible... significant melange in führer re: hating deplorably crooked basely barren factual exposé after another, deft correspondents all not quiet along western front (I heard Maria - mull remark) bring "to light" execrable, lamentable reprehensible... gross transgressions commander in chief significantly overstepped Pulitzer prize winning prestigious storied publications scathingly trounced, pillaried, lambasted, insulted, denounced, butchered, critiqued, demonized, fricassed, gored, humiliated,... pummeled, quartered, reviled courageously expounding fiend ensconced within his Taj Mahal impregnable donjon, whereat he trumpets laurels asper, nonpareil administration laying groundless accusations baring his white fangs, twittering, naysaying, mocking.. supreme renown gifted by "honest Abe" recalcitrant commander in chief, who refutes objectionable dogged investigative journalism every step of the way, where dedicated news gatherers risk life and limb firing line reportage troopers ferreting (foxlike) ***** doth gopher precious nuggets uncover alarming undisputable details impossible to refute raw bits agent provocateur freely colluding immediately hashtashed poppycock smarmy, snooty, snappy beastly capital one ogre blatantly castigating diligent endeavors oblivious pie in sky delusional egotistic haughtiness bobblehead vilified by silent majority.
Continue reading...
66
If we are so coveted By grasping hands Fingers prodding and pulling Measuring and beckoning Pushing us this way and that Then let us also be Objectionable To their sensibilities So that the hands May falter in spite of themselves And lose their grip At least some of the time
0
May 23, 2024
May 23, 2024 at 11:31 AM UTC
A bird in the hand
Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School Evansburg, Pennsylvania circa ~ 1969 ADD: A(fter) D(umpster) D(diving). As a Halloween costume, that fifth year literally dug up materials, sans throw away wear during grade school, my father got veer re: brilliant idea for this sole son, which found gritty sanitation crew unclear but right at home on animal farm, and/or role with pigpen didst share this original getup cost Peanuts, but caused a big stink to rear up dressed depleted oxygen, and many classmate didst swear objectionable odor also induced eyes to tear. Missus Shaner (the talon clawed, shriveled queer looking relic of a dinosaur, who taught – for near lee a millennium fifth grade) gave me - up pair of gooey (Paraguay) “FAKE” genuine heir looms (bone a fide kitchen middens) artifacts mere wrack que less originally care lessly tossed out by indigenous: Guaraní, Ayoreo, Toba-Maskoy, Aché and Sanapan discovered in present day capital, dear lee benevolent holy city steeped in prayer: (Nuestra Señora Santa María de la Asunción). Authentic “FAKE” Central A mere reek'n (American) rank and file putrid bare lee tolerable plum rancid rotten ancient ******* handily found teacher to declare me the putative winner since everyone else passed out from the fetid air.
0
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 1:55 PM UTC
Chief garbage taster – Fifth Grade “Poetaster”