"pfft" poems
the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
"fight my disability"
we were never at war with one another
like me, it just wants to exist
and so i let it
to some extent
i’ll never “become my disability”
yet i don’t believe it’s a bad thing either
i’ve come to realise that he’s become a part of me
as he’s helped shape my thinking
and maybe even my personality a little bit
i owe all my stubbornness to him
nah
i don’t fight my disability
we’re bffs
the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
"get up every day"
though for a while, i thought it was
getting up is easy
facing the world?
getting easier
i used to blush at the thought of getting a wheelchair
i’d bury my face in my knees and cover my ears with my hands, thinking that if i couldn’t see it or hear it, i wouldn’t need it
i cared too much of what society would see me as
not “normal teenage girl”
"sad confined possibly a teenage girl?"
normal is overrated
and to be honest?
so is society
the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
pretending i’m okay with mainstreaming
dear teachers, “mainstreaming” was never in my vocabulary
pretending?
pfft dear teachers, this is 100% real contentment
IEPs got some getting used to but after 16 years of endless doctors appointments, people in white sterile coats, plastic latex gloves poking, prodding demanding things of me
"mainstreaming"
won’t ever exist in my vocabulary
i know i’m smart
and i know i can do it
so don’t you DARE cry at my graduation
it’d be pretty pathetic if i believed in myself more than you do
the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is
accepting the realities
i don’t know when i’ll take my last step
i don’t know when my muscles will give out for good
i know that every day i won’t know what’s right in front of me
i know that i’ll never be able to run another mile in my life
and i know that i won’t ever stop dreaming about the things i wish i could do
would love to do
won’t ever do
might do
one day
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Trampling through their city paths,
Hunting ground, mean street.
They perch aloft towers of oak;
Dripping with prestige vine, wrapped
With silk leaves, soft to touch
And hard to climb.
The Sun sets over the seven lakes
Of spring kissed, freshly mown
Fields of scorn blessed by
Solitudal and beady eyes.
Gates keeping out the world that
Wishes them harm.
They sit so high peering down,
At our destitution, our self-prohetised Might!
And think:
“Pfft you all wish you could fly
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
"So the pen is mightier? who'da'thunk'it."
He said to the bleeding man tied down
to a messed, stained, bed.
The bound man figured,
even though he just got
to an LA plagued
by criminals, killers, and copy-cats,
that he wasn't getting out of here whole,
finally.
Holding a pen knife,
red-faced and sweating,
was his captor.
It had been a struggle
to awake and realize
who stood before him:
Quill.
The exact killer he'd been looking for.
He had heard about him in the Halo Herald,
An LA pun, it's not very popular,
but he liked the funny section.
"Are you just going to stand there?"
The bound man says, eagerly,
"Hey bud, you're the hanged man,
I'll do the talking."
"It's about time!"
"huh?"
"I'd been waiting.
heard you'd be at that
open mic. Knew you liked
the mealy type."
"Shuddup or I'll write you off."
Quill runs his pen knife over the bound man's right cheek.
"Stings a little.
Usually, I start with a rufie
and emotional damage.
But it looks like you
want to cut to the chase.
I'm a man of a similar mind.
spirit.
problem."
"Nobody's like me dude."
The bound man locks eyes with Quill.
"What're your trophies? huh?
I read you like to drain your victims,
cook'em dry.
don't you use their blood and powdered remains as ink?
Short stories or something?"
"Oh, an avid reader?! it's your lucky day:
you get to be part of the collection!"
The lamp nearby tumbles
to the floor as Quill lunges,
ready to ****
"Wait! Don't you want to know who I am!"
"Not really."
"I'm a ser-"
The sentence is finished by
nothing but the sound of blood
and air
gurgling
into places it was never meant to be
as Quill's blade passes through flesh.
"Pfft, what, you think you're special?"
Quill saunters over to the sink.
"I'd hate to waste ink.
but there'll be more.
there's always more.
isn't that right, Celine."
he says to no one
and stands there with a smirk
as if listening to her.
Oct 15, 2022
Oct 15, 2022 at 2:22 AM UTC
Here I am,
In the middle of the grey ocean.
The tears of angels dancing on the broken surface.
Angels crying, crying for us?
Pfft, yeah right.
Earth.
God,
Poor Earth.
We've destroyed hope,
And along the way I believe,
We've destroyed humanity,
Or maybe just humans,
I really don't know,
Maybe Im just
Destroyed.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
You think no one would care if you died? no one would notice. well you’re wrong. i would. and so would so many other people.
Okay listen here, even though this won’t matter in a week or even tomorrow I just want you to know that:
You are worth so much more than you think.
You were placed on this earth for a reason, everyone has a reason to live no matter how small it may be. There is always hope, there is always help. There is always something better to do than **** yourself.
If you died tonight by taking your own life you would affect so many. No don’t just say “Pfft, yeah right” because someone will.
What if tomorrow your best friend wakes up and you’re not there? Do you know how devastated they will be. They will blame themselves. What if they had talked to you a little longer that night? or finally told you that they love you? A million questions will race though their mind. They will blame themselves for therest of their life.
Your family don’t care either? They do. What happens when they find your body? They will shake your trying the wake you, but you never will. They will cry out for you, tell you to come back. They need you here, without you here? They are missing half of themselves. Their own blood dead. They also will blame it on themselves. What if I woke up earlier to get them out of bed? What did I do wrong as a parent? Why couldn’t they talk to me? The same million questions pestering them for the rest of their lives. How about burying their child before them, that is one of the worst things, out living your own child.
You probably think killing yourself is easy? It’s not. Bleeding out takes hours and it’s excruciating painful. Overdosing, if you don’t do it right you could mess up your organs forever. All the ways of killing yourself have a chance that they will not work and if they don’t you will live with those scars forever.
You’re probably going to blow this off and forget about it but can you at least remember that you are beautiful and you are worth so much more. please don’t take your life tonight or tomorrow or next week because if you survive this monster that eats away your mind everyday you will be able to tell your children and their children that..
You survived.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 8:45 AM UTC
I look up at the sky and see red.
I look at the grass and see black
I look at the banana and see purple.
What?
The sky is not blue!
Pfft! Green grass! nonsense!
That banana... that one that is on top of the pink table, is yellow! LIES!
That table is brown?! Now I know you're crazy!
Eyebrows furrowed
Pursed lips.
Aching head.
No.
Don't tell me what's what!
Stop telling me what to think!
The sky is red.
The grass is black.
The banana is purple.
No...
Stop...
Please...
Let me be....
What's that scary machine...
It's hurting my head...
The sky is red.
The grass is black.
The banana is yellow.
The sky is red.
The grass is black?
The banana is yellow.
The sky is blue.
The grass is green.
The banana is yellow.
I sit in class a stare ahead.
I don't think.
I don't act.
I don't ...
I am a good girl.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 1:14 AM UTC
All I know how to write are metaphors.
Metaphors about starry night skies
and infinities and galaxies
and delving deep into myself
to find something nobody's ever known,
**** that.
My metaphors are stupid
and confusing.
Just like me.
My metaphors never make any sense-
just like me.
My metaphors are the bane of my ******* existence
because they're the only way
I know how to express myself
and I can't help but wonder
if that's because I never want anybody
to know how I'm actually feeling,
full of crypticity
my metaphors tell your realities
to go straight to hell,
man, you mean you want people
to understand you?
What's that all about?
Don't you enjoy only being able
to write your poems about
being shrouded in smoke that hides your guilt
and about bathing in moonlight
and being infinite
and inhaling the stardust of my peers,
what the **** does that even mean?
I grew up learning to go after
what I want
and as far as I'm concerned, it's a problem
that I can't come out and say,
"I want tranquility."
Instead I shroud it in some **** about
inhaling twilight and finding peace in my inner galaxies
Pfft.
What a loser.
What a loser to believe that metaphors
are anything but a way of disguising
the truth.
What a loser to think that I am only a metaphor,
even if it's the truth.
What a loser to believe that I am something
so simple but so complex
and hard to understand
especially when I say it
because I never know how to say anything properly
it's all surrounded in mysteries and confusion,
My metaphors say,
"who the hell wants to understand me?"
The curse of poet, I suppose
a curse I'd do well to break free from.
I only know how to express myself in metaphors
the only problem is that nobody knows
what my they mean,
nobody knows what I really am
because I shroud myself in stupid,
enigmatic, asinine metaphors
that when you asked me to say what they mean
sometimes I'd be able to,
but most of the time...
even I don't know what the **** they mean,
but I say them in the hopes that someone will
be able to decipher them- and me-
anyway,
cause maybe then they would know who I am
without me having to tell them,
maybe then I wouldn't have
to figure it out myself.
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
“aquashield+ .. what is this?”
—“sunscreen”—
“no wonder you get burnt all the time it expired in two-thousand-eight ya mad cat.”
“a-ah..”
“ah?”
“good that i use a different one i 'spose hmm?”
“pfft—bronzer.”
“oh come on.”
. . .
—“awshit look at all those dried soap carcasses in the back there. little beached whales”
“exfoliating, irish spring...”
—“hey what's with the two-in-one shampoos anyway?”
“...well,”
—“seems to me like they're just tryna make showering faster.”
“yah. what's your issue?”
"well, what's the point of that? enjoy the ****** thing.
I dare you to find any two things better than being under a hot shower
& the heat of the blowdryer in the hair after...gaw-damnn.”
—“preach.”
. . .
“man, and all the dust...”
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 3:20 PM UTC
Hellz yeah!
I wanna do that!
It'd be a right gas
and
the night is young!
The best part will be:
...waking up in the morning?
Pfft. We should go here.
But
He can't.
Lame.
Movin' on -
Hey!
Dude, it's gone.
Y'know it's not right.
Dude, it's gone.
Yeah.
**** that stuff is nasty!
Does.
Not.
Matter.
Movin' on!
Out?
Need it.
Call it.
Got it.
Safe.
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 7:03 PM UTC
I woke with a sleepy start to find the devil standing over my bed.
I screamed in alarm and punched that ******* in the head.
He frowned then said he was feeing lonely
with a sad little shrug
So I laughed and gave him a big bear hug.
Then God sent me to hell for being nice
0_0
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 9:10 AM UTC
Pfft I don't need a f!cking man to make me feel loved and happy
Why else would we have chocolate?
I mean really
Chocolate doesn't mind if I am a *****
If I *** really badly
If I eat it (guys would never let you do that! And I bet they wouldn't
taste as good ...okay that's creepy. let's not think about that.)
If I wear what I call my: comfy-lazy-day-clothes and the rest of
humanity calls: hella-ugly-as-shit-clothes
If I don't' wear makeup
If I bag on myself
If I sing. For 9 hours... straight...
If I ugly cry
If I literally act SO unbelievably insane it is actually scary and not pleasant or normal or safe and probably merits a psychological analysis
If I am too busy to hang out with it
Chocolate has never told me it loves someone else
Chocolate doesn't mind at all if I **** so badly at most sports that
dolphins are better throwers than me... and runners...
Chocolate doesn't ever care if I read so much that I forget to like, eat or
sleep or breathe or brush my hair or get dressed or get out of bed or put on pants or do anything else.
Chocolate can deal with my insane mood swings
Chocolate doesn't hit on other girls
Chocolate doesn't care that I'm not ready to like, you know "get serious" with it (that would actually be really disturbing let's not think about that either)
Chocolate accepts me for who I am and never judges me
(Although that is mainly because it is edible and inanimate...)
Chocolate respects my boundaries
I love chocolate
See? I don't need a man to be happy.
Who am I kidding I'm lonely as hell. :(
Why am I so pathetically dependant on love?
AUGH. I guess I'll just go and eat some chocolate.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
“Dear Lab,” started the angrily worded poem,
“We’ve put up with shenanigans and outrage and prats
And unfair bannings from you little rats.
We put up with no codes (quote) for our protection
And through it all you maintained our affection.
Now along you slither with your fancy new forum
And ask our opinion - just to maintain decorum -
but of our gentle requests: you deplore ‘em
Then leave all the mess to the red coated quorum.
pfft - Lab notified."
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 2:48 PM UTC
Roses are red
But they're all gone
I NEED SOME NOW
another one
Roses are red
They feel like silk
Bæ got hit
He need some milk
Violets are blue
Oh wait, I forgot roses
Pfft whatever
VALENTINE POSES
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 5:55 PM UTC
spent an entire month in the hospital
and not once did i see a toothbrush
or my wounds anointed with a topical ointment
it was clear an infection was there
considering my leg turned an odd
shade of green, it was honestly a
grisly seen to see my flesh come off with ease
my doctor tried telling me i
was only seeing things, he said “what do
you mean? thats just the light. its not green.”
i said “hell no! i got perfect eye sight,
and that **** aint right!”
he blew it off with a soft “pfft”
and just continued on with his shift
when i first got there a nurse asked
what happened to me, and i told
her the story of my fall from mid-air
as i listed al of my injuries, she sees how
lucky i am, and said “could’ve been worse.
could’ve gotten diabetes.”
i couldn’t say a word, i was so confused
at what i’d just heard. all i thought
was are you kidding me? am i hearing
this right? these are the people taking care
of my life? i didn’t know what to say,
just laughed it off and said, “wow, hadn’t
thought of it that way.”
i remember feeling so disgusting, sitting in
my own filth, yet they only felt
like discussing each pill they gave me
feel like they barely even washed me, used
like two or three hand wipes. i was
feeling hella musty
it was so embarrassing. i was doing PT
and got a whiff of the air passing
around the room. i remember thinking
why does it smell like **** i took
one look down, and saw it all
over my ******* gown. they gave me
new clothes, and put the others to be
disposed. i confronted the nurse, i
learned thats a tactic that never actually works,
she treid to prove me wrong, she
checked and said “you see, nothing there”
“well clearly it wiped off on the other
pair.” and i pointed to the clothes bin
i had forgotten some dude came
in and emptied it out, then she
just looked at me, full of doubt
they made me feel like i was stupid
like i didn’t know what i was
talking about. i’ve never delt with
such incompetence, had me feeling like
i didn’t even matter. no wonder
i lost my self confidence
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 2:41 PM UTC
a dog pees on a tree,
so what, that’s average.
a baby has spaghetti
around its mouth,
pfft, that’s basic.
a woman living below you
beats on the ceiling with
a broomstick and tells
you to “keep it down!”
big deal, that’s common.
pulling your member
out of your pants and
stroking it violently
with excitement,
hey, that’s just everyday living.
but, seeing you sitting there
on that park bench,
one leg crossed over the other,
with your dog
and your book
and your sunglasses
while tears of joy stream
down your face
after something you
just read
well now…
you
don’t
see
that
everyday.
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 10:43 AM UTC
When I think of happiness I think of yellow, but not just yellow. When I think of happiness I see tulips buzzing to life from all the bees that sang to them. I see rainbows and butterflies over a vast country land on a beautiful sunny day with horses neighing their hello's. The sight gives me a goofy feeling. This happiness, It's now tugging at the corner of lips, pulling them towards my ears until my cheeks hurt and then a sound of squealing as I reach a full blown excited-happiness overload
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
It's there.
Some small
inconveinent
hindrance of curiosity
You see,
at night I like to lay
flat on my back
on the cement
and stare up at the night sky.
Make fun all you want
but this nonpareil view
of the stars
holds so much possibility,
so many endless and unexplainable
things
to ignore it is an insult to mankind
and your gift of consciousness!
So there I lay
trying to do my humanity
a favor
but my head
as oblong and mishapen as it were
with that flat spot
always rolls to the side
forcing a limited view
of the city!
Pfft! There is nothing to gain
from the working of other people!
I've tried building many
prosthetics for this problem,
Once,
I molded putty to my head
to make up for this tragic flaw
but it didn't work
and it looked terribly absurd.
So I suppose
as much as I imagine the universe
to be completely perfect,
the fact that earth is a part of it
makes it flawed
(which yes, I realize that includes myself)
Furthermore
as much as I like
to think of myself as perfect,
that flat spot will always be
the earth
of my head.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
I've tuned in to the wrong channel.
My brain tells me all sorts of things:
You're an alien to the world
You don't belong here
You don't belong anywhere
You don't think the same as others
You're too stubborn
You're too straightforward
You're not like the rest
You're drunk
You should go home.
Well yes,
I totally should.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC
You stole my heart.
We laughed and we talked all day.
You wrote me poems that I read everyday, over and over,
Our days were the best.
SilverTabby, remember her?
Said we were, and I quote directly,
Perfect for each other!
I made us a den, and I took care of Dapplekit,
A day didn't go by that I didn't think of you 24/7.
Then you left me for a month.
You made me feel so devastated.
I don't know if you missed me, but God I missed you.
I was crying, melting, crumbling and falling,
Then you came and you caught me when I thought you were dead.
Listen, Chester told me you were dead.
Don't you know how hard I cried that morning?
Pfft, I've never cried so hard. Not even over all the deaths I've been through.
Yet you were alive. And you reunited with me the same day.
I was so, so happy. You were still my one true love.
I promised you I wouldn't love another.
I kept that promise, didn't I?
We chatted and had cute conversations.
You asked me, "How could a guy like me end up with a girl like you?"
You said I was the definition of beauty.
That I could make you smile.
That I was your starshine.
I loved it when you called me that. Starshine!
You loved me. You respected me.
You gave me an infinity in the number of days, you know.
Then it was HelloPoetry,
And Love Poems, you were on it! c;
I promised you I'd love only you forever,
And I kept that promise, didn't I?
The days went by slowly, and you took forever to come on.
That's okay. I'd give you space.
You stopped saying "I love you."
That's okay. I'd let you.
You loved Jinxx.
That's okay. As long as I love you.
Then you ask me to stop loving you.
And I'm sorry, but I just, flat can't.
I respect your decision not to love me,
But I can't stop loving you. I'm so sorry.
Forgive me please...
I promised you I would always love only you.
And I'm keeping that promise,
Aren't I?
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
When did your symptoms start?
Listen doc, it's a funny story
I thought those 'symptoms' were normal
they've been here since I can remember
The question you should be asking is
when did I realize the symptoms were a problem?
When did you realize the symptoms were a problem?
I'm not fully convinced all of them are so bad
yeah I could do without the pain
but what you call my disability
I call my special abilities
Who else do you know can tell the weather with their body?
When did the pain start?
pfft I'm not sure
It started out so quiet
and then began to grow
as time goes by
I begin to realize that the pain
is the only constant in my life
but don't worry Doc
it only hurts when I'm awake
Jan 7, 2020
Jan 7, 2020 at 6:13 PM UTC
Oh — That girl.
She's such a strange one.
Such a strange girl
She doesn't cry — She bleeds
She can't talk
As hard as she tries
Can't find the words
That very strange girl.
She'll never fit in
Not even with her own family
Or even others who also don't fit in.
Pfft — just leave her be
She'll go away eventually.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 7:35 AM UTC
Something most depressed teenagers will understand:
Christmas is a reminder of what happiness is.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Forget Michael Kors,
buy me Molly.
Pills or Pandora?
pfft... pick my poison.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC