"profanity" poems
Lost is the African pride
Gone are those who could ride the tide
Left are those who drown beneath the wave
Prone to dehumanization because of greed
I see burning buildings
Mutilated bodies
Escalating violence
And social unrest
Lost is the Spirit of Ubuntu
Left is a society deprived of its integrity
Selfishness and poverty is at the core of our society
Is the real Africa lost to antiquity?
Crime is rife as people strive for a decent life.
A decent life earned through decadence
Should we stone foreigners because the government is failing to provide employment?
Or should we burn down buildings so that our voices can be heard?
I am ashamed of the profanity we breed
It’s a calamity for us to be xenophobic
It’s a taboo for us to call Africans foreigners in their motherland.
It’s not who they are.
It’s not who we are
It’s not who you are
It’s not who I am
Together we are the Africa that has survived slave trade
The Africa that has survived apartheid
The Africa that has survived colonization
The Africa that is surviving westernization
We don’t fight for employment
We create employment
We don’t breed resentment
We translate sentiments
Let us evoke the Spirit of Ubuntu
And let’s behave like men not animals
Let us ignite the Spirit of Ubuntu
And let’s stand like men immortal
The Spirit of Ubuntu is what separates us from animals
Terrorism shouldn’t exist in Africa
It’s a disgrace for us to be unethical
Xenophobia shouldn’t be heard in Africa
Animosity is not our portion
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 6:28 AM UTC
I wished to explore all parts of you,
The gentle sway of your torso
The ***** words falling from your lips
I was inspired by your movement,
The profanity
It was a romance between millennials,
One fueled by intoxication and lust
Sparked by passion
Ignited by jealousy
We might even share words,
Stories of our past
Hopes for the future
But they'll always be just that
These moments won't last
Youth and spontaneity comes with a price
A price we must pay,
And a love we must sacrifice.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC
It's Wednesday, April 2, 1997, at 12:00 PM
I took a Greyhound bus to Des Moines, Iowa
It was a six-hour profanity demon hellride
At 6:00 PM, the Greyhound bus arrived at the Des Moines bus station
Two of my music fans picked me up and drove me to Fort Dodge, Iowa
Hell Greyhound bus ride
Hell Greyhound bus ride
Hell Greyhound bus ride
Hell Greyhound bus ride
At 2:00 PM on Friday, April 4, 1997, I went on a radio show joyride
I whipped out my Technics KN3000 keyboard and sung four rock songs on 88.1 KICB
At 6:30 PM, I rode with my friends to Knights of Columbus for sound checking
At 9:30 PM, I got up on stage and sung twenty rock songs in front of 200 rock fans
Hell Greyhound bus ride
Hell Greyhound bus ride
Hell Greyhound bus ride
Hell Greyhound bus ride
At 11:20 AM on Saturday, April 5, 1997, I caught the Greyhound bus to Chicago, Illinois
The Greyhound bus left Des Moines, Iowa at 11:30 AM
It was an eight-hour profanity demon hellride without music
At 7:30 PM, the Greyhound bus arrived at the Chicago bus station
I then got off the intercity bus and yelled like a stupid fool
Hell Greyhound bus ride
Hell Greyhound bus ride
Hell Greyhound bus ride
Hell Greyhound bus ride
Kinkos, it's the new way to office
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
No option, but to be perceived
Violent, Aggressive, Irrational
Identity becoming an other
Words of malice, they mystify
Words of ignorance, they vilify
Subverting consciousness and articulation
Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation
No real notion of we or me
Implicating it's inhuman to be foreign
When they represent as much of we and me
Scandalizing alternative identities as subversive
Advancing erasures in favor of hegemony
Propaganda favoring what is most white
Amelioration for the obliteration of cunning identity?
No more cooperation, ****** the euphemisms
That cover up, and help justify marginalization
Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation
Time to **** ****** massacre eurocentric ideology
We preach no violence, being not them, just we
But cannot request to be free, must tear it out by force
Eurocentric ideological pandemic inhabiting, inhibiting the soul of mankind
Unthinkable abomination concealed in the veil of appropriated minds
Necessitating exorcism for the incarcerated conscious mind
When we completely violate mandates of eurocentric ideology
When only we appropriate our own identity
When we all nullify the color of our skin
As profanity or inadequacy
Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation
Will be awaiting purgation from alienation
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
I could fill my hands with wishes.
Vials of fairy dust tucked deep in my pocket.
one day,
I might need it.
But that day I think may never come.
Prayers whispered on red stained lips,
but they drop sincerely,
with to much heart.
Silence says to much in ways I can't comprehend.
Wind says that it can take me to a place, where shadows can't haunt me.
Sorrow can't sit on my door step,
reminding me of things that want to consume to much of me.
Monsters grab me in the night.
Profanity and ****** don't mix well with whiskey.
My stomach is always twisted in knots of strangled butterflies.
I could be a runaway.
Just another face on a milk carton,
or those cluttered bulletin boards at Walmart.
I fade away so easily,
flowers in my hair and feet bare,
sunshine warming my face.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
In the hour of my greatest need,
When my rage has been spent,
And my selfishness,
Profanity,
Lovelessness,
Anger,
Lying,
Cheating,
Lawlessness,
Single mindedness,
And my quest, in all the wrong ways, for love,
Stands alone.
When the darkness is my greatest achievement,
Still,
I AM FORGIVEN.
I AM LOVED.
This is senseless to me.
It belies comprehension.
It demands exploration.
And after all,
Remains senseless and incomprehensible
Except for the words I hear
As I lay wounded and trodden upon
By my own sin,
"Welcome home. Be at rest."
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
To even commence to define how profoundly I fell in love with you, I would need the capacity of a thousand-page manuscript written in the most romantic idiom.
Each, and every retention of us is stowed into the back of my conscious, and concealed deep into my heart.
Every beautiful memory plays through my head like soft music.
I would say my heart is immovable. There are days that I try to sojourn the thoughts of you, but its intolerable for me to do so.
I am so engulfed in your perfection. I do not think there has been a single day that you have escaped my thoughts.
I can feel your presence with me if I ponder our memories deeply enough. Your presence weighs heavily in my heart. It is as if part of your soul occupies its crevasses, and fills my cracks.
Your eyes are echoes of a hundred distant galaxies no man has ever revealed. Vast windows that reflect the constellations.
My heart is certain the universe resides in them.
As I begin to study your face, I feel like nothing but love can exist.
Your porcelain perfection never ceases to weaken me.
You weaken me with love, trust, and desire. Like the finest specimen created by the hands of Gods.
As I anticipate the connotation of love, the implication is “you”.
Even if the fire for what you feel for me dies, I do not reason the passion I have for you will ever dim.
I do not begin to recollect if I had ever felt this susceptible.
I let this passion be valued like the rarest stone.
I would give up the entire world if it meant I could have you in my life endlessly.
Your happiness is of grave importance to me, when I study your smile, I can overlook the darkness of this decaying reality.
Every heartbeat of time my mouth declares three unpretentious words.
“I love you”.
I say it like an invocation.
Not one moment did my tongue express profanity against these golden words of poetry.
I love you. “ I Love You” . And solitarily just you.
I wallow in my own sorrows at the thought of the culmination, when we shall one day part at death's hand.
For I deeply distinguish that you love me equally, and this brings vast pleasure to my temperament.
I sense security in your encirclement, your heart is my home.
My heart qualms of my fragile weakness that I consume when I dream of you.
You make me susceptible to the sickness of love.
If love was a poem, you would be the title.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
******* child born from ***** parents
***** female dog, wolf, etc.
Men are called ******** and women are called *******
So with that in mind- I’ll put this into verse and rhyme.
There was a ******* named Bill, who would walk
His ***** named Jill.
Now she would love to lay or play
And this would go on every day.
Then when his ***** would go into heat
He would give his ***** a treat.
He would allow her to put her scent all over town
So that the others would know that she’s around.
Now Bill being a fatherless child- would sit around and laugh awhile.
(With the definition of these words being known) I must ask this!
Why would you put your ***** on the street?
When there are so many others she’s bound to meet.
She will leave you in a flash, because she doesn’t need
Anyone to wipe her ***
there has to be a line of respect
don't you know this yet ?
YOU are fatherless and what are you about to do
Is creating a litter just like you.
So why do we use these words as profanity?
That is not the way it was meant to be!
HA HA ENJOY YOUR DAY
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 12:24 PM UTC
Would a blue ballpen without ink just lie
To die, like the children of our past needs,
The mouths of their thinning souls leeching
Our piety, our profanity, our tendency to build society
Off faces and masks,
Individual fragments of ourselves.
Would one give a thousand pesos to he who smears
Windshields with soap to take a few coins hostage
Or to she who exhibits a gaunt infant, an offspring
Of want, not wanted, the wear and tear of a rough
World manifest on emaciating juvenile skin. Would one
Give a thousand?
Would one commit a kiss?
When mere change can buy a pen with its full blood,
What then is the worth of the bleeding, the bearded
Blind on the somber sidewalks of forgetfulness where
Without ink, it ceases to be blue, and unable to write,
He has no need for a pen.
The world is writing his story,
He is only there to punctuate with his blood.
Jul 12, 2012
Jul 12, 2012 at 11:56 PM UTC
Her long symbolic hair caressing her body
Her torn jeans representing her dignity
Sentimental to the teen rotted inside a lifetime ago
Tears making her smile
Her pink apple suit case was confiding
Hiding in a storm, where rocks were thrown
Bruises and scars across her knees
Killing the young girl
No longer innocent eyed
She's a a straggler
Structure tried
She runs away searching
Fresh start is an opportunity topped off with profanity
Odds pushing her down
A constant, as the sun raises its eyebrows
Her cards she never questioned there quality
As he touched her fingers
She has one chance
Contemplative perseverance
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And on the first day he wept
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Because he knew God had slept
**Tupac said: **** the world**
No promises to be broken or kept
**Tupac said: **** the world**
This baby was already in debt
**Tupac said: **** the world**
In anger there is no word of thanks
**Tupac said: **** the world**
*He **** sure wasn't shooting blanks*
**Tupac said: **** the world**
So I ask why am I so sheltered?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And act so self-centered?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Is it because my Mom held me?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And she was always there for me?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Why can't I see his point of view?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Why are white people so scared of you?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He was a product of real life
**Tupac said: **** the world**
His bottle was a switchblade knife
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Yeah we thought he was a criminal
**Tupac said: **** the world**
His anger was not so subliminal
**Tupac said: **** the world**
So while we give thanks and pray
**Tupac said: **** the world**
It seems we really just look away
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Man what's wrong with that boy?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
A gun in his hand ain't no toy
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Where was he supposed to go?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
*What if you were raised by a **
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Are we in a position to judge?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Maybe it's us we should begrudge
**Tupac said: **** the world**
What should offend you more?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
The reality you try to ignore?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
The shock of all the profanity?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Or the fact of his poverty?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He knew he was disposable
**Tupac said: **** the world**
A gangsta rappers's not so lovable
**Tupac said: **** the world**
That was the only way to survive
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Nobody cared if he lived or died
**Tupac said: **** the world**
The industry only wants the money
**Tupac said: **** the world**
But they never called him honey
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He was dead before he was born
**Tupac said: **** the world**
But he could rhyme about scorn
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And now he's dead and gone
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Did you think he was wrong?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He knew how to die better than you
**Tupac said: **** the world**
What do you pay attention to?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Reality tv and some situation?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
*Being trendy and ************
**Tupac said: **** the world**
The money really didn't really matter
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He kept up the harsh street chatter
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He wasn't climbing no social ladder
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Because his heart could never gather
**Tupac said: **** the world**
All the Lord's blessings
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Like flowers and angel's wings
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Living on the streets instead
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Where the ladder is full of lead
**Tupac said: **** the world**
The lead of pain and bullets
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And not soft golden nuggets
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Of love and tenderness
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Just blood and nothingness
**Tupcac said: **** the world**
So who is holding him now?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Is he where love will allow?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
A man to become a boy?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
A boy with happiness to enjoy?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
You don't like gangstas rapping like crooks
**Tupac said: **** the world**
There's no page for him in the good book
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Were his sins from his mother and father?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And those who would string up a brother
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Try to just say no when your ship ain't sailin'
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Hey God what is it that you were sayin'?
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 2:06 PM UTC
Not too tall --
Don't want him towering over me
Looking down on me
Humiliating me
In more ways than one.
Eyes should be dark --
Not pale.
Don't want them
Cold, empty, icy
Don't need
A shark-like gaze
To chill me to the bone.
Not too large --
Don't need him to tell me
Just how big and strong and intimidating he is
Can't have him saying
Outright or otherwise
That he could hold me
Or anyone else down.
What else are arms for?
Not too crude --
In fact, I just might want him to talk
Like a woman.
Don't get me wrong --
My vocabulary is colorful enough.
It would be hypocritical to rule out profanity.
But, as soon as you call me or her or him or this or that
'BITCH'
The bile will surely be climbing my throat.
Not too proud --
Yes, confidence is attractive
But conceit is certainly no match.
I don't care if he thinks he looks good --
I will most likely agree that he does --
But one who can not admit to his mistakes
Let alone answer for them
Is a frightening caricature of humanity.
I am so flawed, love
But my flaws are not the cause of yours.
Not too dense --
Anyone who reads this
Male, female, or other
And calls me a 'man hater'
Or asks what I would think of a man
If he wrote something like this about a woman
Should run along
For that is not what I'm saying
Not at all.
I know what I deserve
And it's just what everyone else should get.
I just believe
That 'do unto others'
Should not die
Once the ring is on the finger
Or the name is on the dotted line.
I just believe
That 'love' should not be bastardized
To mean an unconditional, everlasting loop of
'Whatever you want
Honey.'
Only give what you'd want to get
Only take what you know you need
No matter the giver.
Bestow and accept nothing less
And as much more
As you can manage.
Believe me
I'll keep doing the same
No matter what you say.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
I do not swear because I am
A sweet and sober guy;
I cannot vent a single ****
However hard I try.
And in viruperative way,
Though I recall it well,
I never, never, never say
A naughty word like hell.
To rouse my wrath you need not try,
I'm milder than a lamb;
However you may rile me I
Refuse to say: ******
In circumstances fury-fraught
My tongue is always civil,
And though you goad me I will not
Consign you to the divvle.
An no, I never, never swear;
Profanity don't pay;
To cuss won't get you anywhere,
(And neither will to pray.)
And so all blasphemy I stem.
When milk of kindness curds:
But though I never utter them -
Gosh! how I know the words.
3.3k
Spriralling down profanity
Standing on the cliff of blasphemy
She looked for angels inside of demons
Where God's decree was nowhere to be found
She had faith in what she saw
Preachers and believers
Insolence and deciept
Their words of judgement reaching out to cage her in
Threatening punishment
Imploring her to forgiveness
God, there is sacrilege
This world is rampant with hypocrites
Her heart is full of your love
Yet desires the forbidden
The unsanctioned
It harms not a soul, not even her own
But holds her happiness down the one path
That strays just a little from the rules
God, who loves the impious preachers and believers
The patient and forgiving
Can these two paths not become one?
Where the blood in her veins runs by His decree
Every breath she takes is with His grace
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 8:57 AM UTC
My Lucifer, unwitting Muse, dog-eared Vonnegut,
afrobeatnik third eye, howls escaping
from your headphones, wailing about secrets, about infidelity,
about analyzing life until there ain’t nothin’
left. Then you shuffle by in your black and white Adidas,
hair in twists, wearing the striped sweater
of nihilistic intent, quoting the rants of Holden Caulfield
in your blog like you never didn’t know him.
I never asked to know you, to want who I can’t have
when I can’t even love myself. And every fiber
Of my being yearns for reciprocation. What is there
to return? What is there to feel, you meditate on truth,
fallen angel in the parlor of rebellion, blasphemous goodbye,
bright and morning star simpering like crickets in the palms
of daybreak. Your musicality radiates from subway chatter
and overheard profanity down El Camino Real.
I take in your ballad at my post office mailbox,
in the abandoned echoes of daydream monologues.
You’re a philosopher, exploring theory of mind, a cartographer,
mapping the labyrinth of your deepest desires.
Tell me again about desires, demonstrations of divine sadism. Tell me
about human empathy, the animated faces of wordless expression,
the metaphysics of free will, my beginning and my end,
alpha and omega, my fortress in the land of chic.
Blasphemous hustler, let your idealism simmer, your wit, your mojo,
I come to you an amateur, a neophyte, a lowly scab
in the strike against ignorance. Give me my melody, my song,
my one-hit-wonder of all that is cliché and unknown.
But I can’t be the other woman, your girlfriend, your aspiring
Playboy bunny only 10-bucks-a-throw. Your highness-who-yells-
his-ideas-into-the-ears-of-echoes, your every quirk spellbinds me.
Each day I wake to your entourage vibrato.
I am held captive by your brooding stare, empress of liberal
doves. You visit in my dreams when the sky is a force of darkness
viewing light through peepholes, your flaws an aphrodisiac, a love drug,
a fast hit in the basement from the ecstasy of words.
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 5:37 AM UTC
You
Are untamed
Reckless blood and wit intertwined
A twisted, brazen
mind.
Your mind
Is so clearly different
It leaps and soars, so acrobatic
And your thoughts appear to me so hazy and enigmatic
Your mind is simply not pragmatic
Yet your perception knows no bounds.
You have thoughts that come close to insanity
That sometimes flow in the form of profanity.
Your spirit
Is either very high or very low
Up and down, to and fro
There is no in between for you
Some say you are stupidly crazy
The dull ones say that, the ones too lazy
To see beyond the rugged surface.
The subdued and vapid ones
Will never understand the magnetism
Of your sweet, exquisite devilry.
On your face you often wear
A fierce and restless stare
A wan, discontented expression
As though you're always awaiting
Something bigger,
Something better.
You
Are fluid, swaying fire
And I will never tire
Of watching you burn
I can see you brain boil and churn
As it reels into into areas of
madness and chaos.
Your psyche
Is an endless field of dark reverie,
Of fear and vagary.
I know your night terrors
Your savage dreams of death
Screams and bated breath
Unutterable visions
The grotesque world of horror thats spins itself out
And dribbles into your drawings
All those creatures, skeletons gnashing and clawing...
You
Are gentle and thoughtful
Yet you are terrified
Of this dark thing that sleeps within you.
Your eyes - they’re stunning
They’re tempestuous,
Wild, like some fierce animal peering out of a rusted cage
Oh, your eyes
They are something beautiful, but annihilating
Like Autumn crocus flowers, innocently poisonous
Lids splaying delicately like its violet leaves.
You are tall and strong
And uncontrollable,
And your smile
Is the biggest paradox I've ever encountered
Childlike
And fatal.
You are not
A creature of the commonplace
You are not a slave of the ordinary
You are not a mindless drudge of the mundane
You are free.
Or bewitched, what's the difference
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
**In the shadow of Everest people are dying
Crushed in a chaos embirthed from beneath,
Emerged as destructor of temple and Taos,
Emerged as an innocent killer... bequeathed.
History crumbles as heavens roar mightily
Ghorka is dead in an avalanche of rock,
Beggars and potentates crushed in the brickfall
Dharahara’s fall leaves men gaping in shock.
Shuddering mountains in avalanche of free fall
Wails of the stricken as quaking defiles,
Gold topped pagodas and statue of ancients,
Sculpture of lions now a rubble in piles.
Khathmandu in the clasp of calamity
Nightmarish forces arisen from deep,
Grasping the earth in their grip of profanity
Monstrously tearing the bedrock from sleep.
A techtonic ****** of Asia by India
Nepal’s Himalayas ****** to the sky,
Inconsequential, this plight of humanity
Nature proceeds as poor Nepalese die.**
M.
ANZAC Day 25 April 2015
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:45 PM UTC
From freedom and serenity - forced back,
Within a heavy frame, I twist and turn.
Surrounded by darkness - sunlight lacks
Through peaceful ears, an alarm clock burns.
Feeling like someone once deceased,
I ****** myself from my tranquil sleep...
Stumbling to the kitchen, eyes half open,
I prepare my meal in a weary daze.
I will not dread today - I'm hoping,
As I race through traffic in my malaise.
Drinking in my last few moments,
I do what I must, but never condone it...
My interior seething from stress filled meetings,
These rules defeating - my lifeblood fleeting,
A blunt insanity from this calamity,
Through censored profanity, I scream "barbarity!"
Beneath the boots of automatic overlords,
We're trapped together - anxious and bored...
Our heads hang, our eyes bleed
Their talking styles belie their greed.
Our mouths move - connection we seek,
But we find our language strange and oblique.
Back home, on my couch, lethargic and pale,
Hypnotized by TV, my dreams turning stale…
A once free spirit, now a mindless drone -
My sense of identity is what they dethrone.
I assure myself, my soul will endure,
Friday at five, I’m told is the cure.
But, revolution’s muscle beats in my chest!
So, a simple existence, I imagine, my best.
This is my strife - I hate this way of life!
Words can’t explain the disdain in my veins.
So, I have no choice, but to use my voice,
To tell you all to your face, there’s no time to waste!
Everyday, I pickup my pen and face the end -
To light the fire, that from ashes, we’ll ascend...
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 4:58 PM UTC
Profanity profanity there's nothing like profanity
A cheeky T@@@ a silly cow we just can't stop them coming out
A quick F@@@ off, a ***** yourself
Improves the mood like nothing else
But wait!
It's really better still when alcohol helps the thrill
A sentence made of many c@@@ and f@@@s
That grammar simply can't construct !
But you my friend have drunk tourettes
You swear and curse amongst the best
The more you drink the more you cuss
You really are a social plus!
In front of kids and grannys too
You just cant stop your verbal puke
I've learnt words in groups I can't describe
Your mouth shouts out in awe and pride
You simply are an ignorant pig
Who needs carbolic in your grid!
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
I wish to get this out in the open,
I wish to clarify something
I must confess something to those who care about my writing:
My sense of humour is... well...
If you know me in person, you know my sense of humour
or what could be errantly said
to be a sense of humour.
I draw heavily upon:
facetiousness, mythic interpretation, sarcasm, satire, excessive formality, irony, wordplay,
a somewhat predisposed tendency towards not taking most things entirely seriously
even and almost especially when I am 'supposed to',
resorting to profanity on rare occasions,
and quite simply and succinctly a ****** up world perspective*
amassed over many years of living in this society
and from living with my late, similarly minded, brutally honest alcoholic Father,
in this society, nonetheless,
who in fact was at least *quite ******* directly* responsible for my aforementioned errant sense of humour.
If you knew him, you might say that I'm a "chip off the ol' block" in some ways,
but I know I'm quite ******* deviant from it in others.
So, to those of you who simply know of my existence via this digital outlet/public-sketchpad for my new-found passion of writing down every ******* thing I think it worthwhile to ponder again later, or perhaps even share with similarly minded, or at least accepting people; I wish to convey my deepest and most sincere pity, not in that it is anything that was your doing, just in that you can't possibly know my sense of humour and tasteless applications of irony and satire, and as such; I've probably offended some people.
However, for some anomalous reason,
some of you seem to like this stuff
So I'm going to keep it up.
If you read this: thank you,
but if you did not, then **** you;
however, if you didn't initially read this but were later directed to it by me or by some other personage,
fictional or real,
or for some other reason happened across it,
I rescind the aforementioned **** you" in light of conveying my deepest and most sincere
"Thank you for putting up with my weird-ass ********
I appreciate anyone who finds any value in my works.
I also appreciate the improbable nature of anyone liking my brain-vomit.
I love creating and I love sharing my creations,
so when that all works out,
I'm ******* fit as a fiddle;
Giddy as a schoolgirl on Prozac;
Happier than a young necrophiliac who achieves his boyhood ambition of becoming coroner.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
"Perfection"
Should be a profanity
Consigned to myth
We are taught to aspire
To live a life
That doesn't exist.
Glossy paper
And saturated colour
Feeds us a fiction
Force asphyxiation
Because you will live average
Statistically
And will not become
The thing of dreams
Staring out of magazines.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
Warning: Bleeped out profanity. Read at your own risk
I would call you "dad"
But I would be ashamed to do so
You cannot stand up for anyone
Fooled into submission by her
That f·cking Satanic b·tch
Who is more irresponsible than I
I am ashamed you ever bed with her
I watch your offspring, wishing to be dead
Now I love your children
They even call me "Mama"
Isn't that alarming?
When they confuse their birthgiver with their sister?
But what would I know
I'm just a young girl
I don't know anything, says you
You overprotect me anyhow
As soon as I can leave, I'll be gone without a trace
Living with my mother, the woman that you hate
That you talk sh·t about, while I am within hearing range
Then act like nothing happened, do you think I am a bafoon?
At least I have the ****** courage
To tell someone to f·ck off
I'm glad I'm nothing like you
So, just f·ck off
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 4:10 AM UTC