"ratchet" poems
Eenie Meenie Miney Moe
You're just another ***
Never saying "no" & NOT **** fo' show
Beyond ****** is where you go
The nasty crust is what you are below
A busted *** ratchet
With a scandalous habit
So bounce ***** with that ****
Or you're going to get hit
Peace out **** it
You need to just quit
Karma is what you're going to get
Because ******* DONT FORGET
You're not classy, just a slutty *****
With legs like a revolving door
Open to anyone wanting to score
But your ***** is stank & rotten to the core!
With more than one new STD sore
Just like I said before
BOUNCE,BITCH no one wants MORE!
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC
Oh black negus. Why do you hate me so much?
Noticed I called you by your rightful title.
Negus
King, Ruler, Emperor
Not ***** or ******
The derogatory term originating from the crackers, or ***** the mild disparagement softened by society made to think that it's acceptable.
But anyway let's get back to it.
Why do you hate me?
Is it because of my full lips or my round hips?
My low tolerance for ********
The way that my stretch marks are engraved in my skin?
Or how the roots of my hair aren't so thin.
Is it my naturally sun kissed skin? Even toned complexion?
It just can't be my uncanny resemblance to Isis the Egyptian Goddess!
So why not praise me for my natural features
Why go on one knee for their paid for enhancements
Should I react like Angela Basset in Waiting to Exhale?
Screaming and shouting while my face is growing pale.
But pardon my melanin
I was perplexed by this darkness that stared at me in the mirror
That stared at me looking in my lovers eyes and taunted me
Smiles behind hidden hate they constantly berate my beauty
But pardon my melanin
My superiority is in my melanin
Encased in my skeleton
Our ancestors wouldn't like this
They would not be proud of that colorism that exist
They slander us for our features yet they list after it
This systematic thinking has our men slandering us but they won't admit
You continue to beat me down yet I am your mother.
I am the fruit of this nation.
But pardon my melanin
So I'll ask again
Why do you hate me?
We are carved in the same beauty and without each other we can't exist
I still remember the first day that we kissed but a few months later you left me for hailey in an unfortunate bliss
Melanin filled girls I am here to say
You are a queen never be afraid to be seen
The brother that disrespect and degrade are absolutely absurd!
You are not ratchet bitter or mean
Youre a stunning melanin queen
So pardon my melanin?
Naw enlightened by me melanin.
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 1:02 AM UTC
One thousand phalluses
Won't fill
That void in your Soul
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
Yea of course,
I,
me,
a woman,
a black woman
a darker black woman to be exact..
have black privilege because thats a thing you know
Its like when I walk into the store and get followed .. yea
or that time i came back to school with my “extensions” and was told my hair grows fast
or maybe its when a white person comes up to me asking if i listen to 21 savage because “black people listen to rap right?”
or my favorite is telling my brother to be safe
as he heads out the door worrying he may be shot for reaching for his wallet
maybe its when i worry about whether or not my brother or cousins or father will be the next Trayvon martin or Eric garner or philando castille even
my black privilege
has allowed me to be labeled as loud and ratchet and sometimes a ***
because that what dark skin black girls are
right ..
yea ….
thats black privilege
its getting told I'm pretty for a black girl
its being told I'm intimidating and mean and ugly natured
but no no i swear its not cause your black
I love black people I'm not racist
Slavery happened years ago
Black people are racist too
im not racist i just don't like black people
yea … I've heard it all.
No !
im not just another “angry black girl”
Im just a black girl
Im not mad don't get me wrong
I just wanted to inform you on my black privilege
I wanted to inform you that it is NOT okay to touch my hair
that is NOT okay to say to mock “black slang”
It is not okay to say “are you speaking english” when i talk
It is not okay to put my people through hundreds of years of slavery and oppression and systemic racism and TELL US TO GET OVER IT!
Im sorry excuse my tone of voice
but can you blame me for getting worked up when I have to worry about whether or not my people will come home at night
yea …
thats MY black privilege
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 12:23 AM UTC
The vampire really craved him some blood,
And thank god; they'd just buried Mrs. Flood:
He pried open her casket,
And was using his ratchet-
But her fluids had turned thick as mud.
Two vampires decided to dine
On a lady, whose blood was like wine;
While pausing to savor
It's delicate flavor,
One said, the House issue is fine!
Vampires sleep days and fly nights,
They are known to be fearful of lights,
And feeding's quite a trick;
It's got a big kick-
Though impossible, with bad over-bites.
To a vampire, an orgy's a feast
On the blood of man, bird or beast;
And he's not into zoology
Psychiatry or psychology;
Doesn't even care, if it's deceased.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 12:21 PM UTC
Have you ever made a pit stop on the road to success,
to just sit and marvel at the gifts of the ghetto?
Like the individually wrapped Treats that are left about.
have you seen the gum plastered across pavements,
the tagged up scenes...
all of these things.
The **** that people tend to turn their nose up to
is the most beautiful to me.
it reminds me of where I am and fuels me to reach for where I want to be.
Broken sidewalks, broken homes
babies out hustlin' to make their own.
For as long as I can remember,
this is all I've known
this is the land that I call home.
city buses and ratchet fights
****** scenes in broad daylight
beautiful ugliness at my eyesight
but it all pushes me to get it right.
Land of promises
Land of fame
home to Hollywood
and making a name
it is also home to heartache
and home of pain.
but if I must refrain..
If you make a pit stop on the road to success
and marvel at the ghetto
you'd realize you are blessed.
-ari b
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
We just drove through a small town
It was fascinating
Fascinatingly morbid
Morbidly surreal
There were probably 10+ plots that were haphazardly converted into graveyards
'Ratchet' as my generation would think but not say because that would be 'disrespectful to the dead'
In each of the graveyard were hundreds of graves
And it was strange
Strange how such 'ratchet, disrespected and haphazard' graveYARDS
Contained such Beautiful and ornate gravestones
As if to say that nothing could lessen the glory of their death
They would leave behind an impression of beauty
Even in death
(Even though they never chose their gravestones. But don't say that because it would be 'disrespectful to the dead' in their blissful abyss)
It makes one think
That in a town of less than 1000
There was easily more than 2000 gravestones
It shows how life goes on
How, even in a small town, we are insignificant
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
I have a blue blanket, it looks corduroy but it's synthetic polynesian cotton.
Considered by some to be polyester. After the ninth year of ownership I started
Telling house guests it had always been mine; but secretly knowing it came from my
Ex Kristina who left it with some of her other things in 2005 in my grand deluxe Evanston
Apartment. In like some really awesome way, I could fold the corners together to see little blocks
Of the Universe form cubes in the fourth dimension and gain a better understanding of my own
Little black shmata. Top drawer, white dresser, in the back with the leftover girlfriend underwear between
My first ever stuffed animal dog/rabbit.
Amazing how these thinned and frayed azure threads had held so many midnight conversations Together- maybe fifteen other girls had nuzzled with Kristina's blanket. Last year the guilt set in. You Watch a girlfriend, say, ratchet through your room naked for something soft to put over her to listen to
Some half-stanza from the new Yeats critical and that, do-I-tell-her feeling comes over you. Blue Polyester really had a way with women. My last serious crush, the one of six months, the one from the place that was close to where I worked six days a week, would you believe, she had not interest in that heap of thread, under my pillows spying on us sleep for twenty-four long weeks.
"Drop in the bucket" the sixty-year-olds say. I say, bring me my ******* fourth dimension blocks and cubes ************ I want to visit the existential, I want to experience the hoo-ra and Ga-Ga those kids throw around on Milwaukee waiting for $150 NBA slippers.
Wednesday is my day for telling the truth.
2:00p.m. sitting in the front of her alizarin El Dorado.
"I have something I have to tell you," I said, my mouth practically filled with marbles as I barely could Utter the words: it's not going to work out.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:51 AM UTC
Alone
That's how I feel very often
Sitting here on my own
Til the day I'm in my coffin
Double crossers run they mouth more than water in a faucet
And these ratchet *** hoes only want what's in my pocket
Foreal
All these fake *** ****** claiming they yo friend
But in the end everybody know its just pretend
Unlike the demons that I see in every empty room
And the reasons why the world is stressed from work and shrooms
Every season 50 people on Milwaukee news
Dying cuz they tryna find a way to get around the rules
And it's funny
Well it's really kinda stunning
Cuz they tryna make that money
To see they kids make it out of school
Now ig they'll never see that day.
Why ?
Cuz they died tryna get paid.
Wow.
They lived for the same thing they died for.
Blood drips and now they the one that millions cry for.
But last week he was knocking on every single door
Asking for donations for his child and nothing more
But they snickered and lied on they doorstand
And now they sniffle and cry for this poor man
The three types of people that I mentioned before
Are the same people behind all those knocked doors
The double crossers were friends that wanted new friends
The ratchet *** was his unsupportive girlfriend
The fake guy
Was every person that cried
When they found out that he died
But mocked him while he was alive
I don't want those kind of people around me
That's why I claim my loneliness so proudly
That's why I'm lonely in this world with no poise
Yes I'm alone. But loneliness is my choice.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
**** all you dumb boys come to me and make me feel real, make me feel like something special and then just throw me against a brick wall. You sick boys watch me crumble just because you like the way I crawl. You ratchet boys who like to toss my feelings and emotions around like the're some cheap rag doll.
Well **** you all and **** me too because I was foolish enough to let you make me feel like I was small.
I am done with you **** boys ,who find it cool to **** me over!
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
Leave me fear
Strangle my tears
Make way and get out of here
Baby, it's not easy playing the fool behind the wooden stool
And as I lay down in my bed the shadow lingers overhead
I look up, but I'm alone, Oh my baby,
Where are you ?
Staring emptily at the ceiling, driving through the madness in sin
Knew my mistakes were unforgivable, but mama, you gotta give me one more chance
It's never easy, going through the greys, blending in,
That black sorrowful heart, a remembrance of innocence
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today"
It's the only words I heard
I was breathing & alive
But looking at my own grave
Under empty sky
Staring at the light
Not noticing I was holding life hostage
But with no right, I look for a purpose
A cause for the insignificance of my life
To deliver the promise of the love I couldn’t give to you
That you deserve, my mistress, my phantom, my lady in white,
Under the moon at midnight, in between words we linger, and I bloom
I don't want to be blue, but I don't want you to leave
In limbo or incognito, whichever way, it's deceit
I have lost and loved, but never myself
I feel you, but I don't know your name
We will go together till the end
I stand by you
Mysterious lover & friend
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 9:36 AM UTC
Just as a boy grows into teenager,
he is bound, to one day, grow into man.
I think it's when he is just five years old,
he becomes a demolition fan.
At that juncture, it's all about the tools.
To dismantle what works perfectly well.
They may begin plastic at the start,
but it triggers something in their cells.
A teenager will start with something small,
a lawnmower, dirt bike, then on to cars.
Then as he ages and gains life experience,
the quest for tools is written in the stars.
It starts with a simple set of wrenches.
Then moves on to socket sets and ratchet.
Not just ASE, they need metric as well.
A tool store is a veritable banquet.
Metal worker, wood crafter, mechanic,
Plumber a welder and electrician.
Wrapped up in a testosterone package,
needing a new tool for the next mission.
Watch as his eye light, when reaching for a tool,
that's new to the market, sitting on display.
It's no longer about simple fun in an old cardboard box.
It will be tools from now till his dying day.
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 3:27 PM UTC
Purp-Purple Purp-Purple in my blood, cut it, cut it, cut it
Let it bleed, blee-bleed
Sipping on the lea-le-lean
Smoking that dank
My blood stream-stre-stream
When the codeine hits
It hits real hard
When the codeine hits
It hits real hard, hard-hard
Drop a rancher in, let it-let it splash
Splas-splash
Turn up the system, ***** let the snare drum
Crash cra-crash
Rolling through the hood, chevy dropped low
(Lo-low yeah)
My Chevy real lo-lo-low
I said my leather and wood Chevy dropped low
Johnny's in the basement mixing up the medicine
Mixing up the-mixing up the medicine-med-medicine
**** C's in the backroom letting all the ratchets in
Ratchet-ratchet-ratch-
Letting all the ratchets in
Dumping out cigar trash-tra-trash
Fill it back with the hash-ha-hash
Sip that lean slow
Bringing the good old nineties back
Ba-back
Said bring the good old nineties back
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
We're just a bunch of 90s babies, sniffing coke like it's the 1980s
In the night we're popping Molly like we're the ones that made it
Calling it a new summer of love, like this time was always fated
Making fun of everyone that isn't turnt, because we never waited
Leave the club with ratchet girls when the sun goes down much later
I'm just having my fun, why do you have to be a player hater?
The greatest generation has gone, do we have what it takes to be greater?
When the weekend romance ends, return to love thy mater and thy pater
xoxo, imagine being strung out on dank bud with the grand creator
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
She ain't never **** a black boi but she use the word *****
And Her blk home girls give her the encouragement to pull that trigger
Born in the hills but addicted to the hood
I'm her curse and blessing man this ***** is always up to no good
Blue eye devil who love the dark skin
She said she never had it so deep when a ***** went in
She drive listen to legends biggie hov and Rudeboi
She told me she was looking for her pleaser stick so I just nibble her like a chew toi
Snap backs and Jordan's She's a ***** for retail
She got that white girl syndrome but cursed by the black details
Hello to the west end she went and add her best friend
Slave to the lifestyle but she know she will never fit in
Banded by color but my girl went ratchet
When she Confirm the fair-tale of food stamps and welfare Status
Racist antics but she defer the approach
Cuz her white friends can't understand what her blk friends don't
Family of mix feelings her dad told her no
Mama said be your self and get to know the unknown
I give her the face of a sign that saids do not enter
Becuz what you think you wanna no is better if you won't remember
But in the false claim we built into better bitter lovers
So lesson is always learn never judge a book by its cover
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
I suppose I should repose
explore new clothes since I've outgrown
every and anything in this ratchet city
every day I wish to make it out before I am 50
before my bones and motivation crack
before my smile lines and crow's feet are all I have
watching my sanity slip like my grandson down the waterslide
oh, why God why, did you never let me fly?
Was I caged or fearful? Was it staged or virile?
Was I ever able or just another one of your fables?
the man that would never because he never believed he could
Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 8:44 AM UTC
What happened to the times,
When a ratchet was just a tool,
And a tool being something to use?
What happened to a twitter and a tweet having something to do with birds?
Facebook was the term some punk yelled when he'd smash a nerds books right into his face...
And tumblr was a person who did gymnastics.
People would never go around saying kik me,
Instead a sign said it loud and clear,
Taped to their back.
YouTube...what the Hell was a YouTube?
You had some kind of tube put in...
What?
Why is a ***** a mean and angry girl,
Instead of a female dog?
Why is that little gay boy called a ***
Does he look like a cigarette,
Or a bundle of sticks?
What happened to calling some dude a ****
Because that was his name, ****
What happened to cuts being accidental,
Something that happened when we fell,
Or messed with a sharp edge?
Why is a ***** someone who is scared,
Rather than being a cat?
What the hell happened to life?
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
I've been collecting ear wax
Since the belly button lint dust fire went bad
I lost all my dignity in that fiasco
So ear wax is all that I have left
Believe you me, it's not easy
Coming up with another scheme
After burning the whole town down to the ground
To get a single soul to look or even listen to me
But that fateful day that I dug deep
And pulled a replica of the Eiffel Tower out of my ear
I knew that fame and fortune lay before me
My time had arrived, my time was here
Who should I call first over my artful discovery
The Post? The Enquirer? The Times?
No I would call The Museum Of Modern Art in NYC
For the Art World would soon be mine
I knew I had to ratchet it up a notch
One piece of ear wax art might be a fluke
So I got out my brush...the Q-tip
And removed a portrait of John Wayne AKA The Duke
Since I live in a hippie commune in the woods
Little furry creatures would always stop by
To gaze upon the artful process
Squirrels can be the best of critics...no lie!
Which gave me the idea with all the left over ear wax
I sculptured a mini-amusement park with mini-arcades
And charged the woodland creatures nuts and berries
Which helped feed the hippies with whom I stay
It wasn't long after that I received the letter
Stating that art had a need for me
I've become known as The Andy Warhol of The Art World
With abstract ear wax being my specialty
Now I go to all the major "Who Does"
Where everybody knows my name
As I create masterpieces right before their eyes
Just don't hold it to close to the flame
Who would have ever thought that ear wax
Would be the perfect medium
To jet propel this Simpleton
To Art World stardom and beyond
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 8:25 AM UTC
Can the spider play a tune,? no but she builds a lovely harp.
Oh the strings how they do quiver.
A dirge played by the sinner,
The Reckless dinner.
Now trapped .
Now caught,
all for naught.
Neither judged by twelve
nor carried by six. Soon.
The refrain comes almost imperceptible.
Arachnid eyes with wide angle lenses.
No malice or feeling .
Nurse ratchet with a ten gauge needle.
"Your cocoon sir."
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 3:56 PM UTC
Medication time wheezed nurse ratchet
Her yellowed teeth as sharp as a hatchet
Medication time medication time
She shouts once more
Leaving me sickly chilled to my core
Medication time medication time
she hisses in my ear
Will I ever get better or is it only my fear?
Medication time medication time
she picks up in pace
If the medicines working why do I feel I'm being erased?
Medication time medication time
It comes to an end
I've been lobotomized and left for dead
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
Where did you get your clothes from, the dollar store
What do they do to their hair when it itches.
Do you know that there is a place called the beauty salon?
There is nothing worse but seeing my friend pat her weave
They stink more than ****
What's up with the hair
If you need help all you need to do is ask!!
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
Every day.
The everyday.
You see it every day.
The twitch and reel and marble movement
As turgid blood surfaces to face,
Flows to operate stiff shoulders.
Backs hunch as soon as they're alone.
And they are alone.
Surrounded by lovers that
Love in word only.
They chew their nails and cross their ankles.
Uncross.
And look around.
Spring. Could you imagine?
Gear, wire. Did he say?
Bolt, frame. Isn't he?
Ratchet. And then what did he say?
Screws.
Rotor.
A bunch of ****
Oil.
Oil.
Oil. Oil. Oil.
Plug in.
Silence.
It moves.
We move a head in times of
Strain. To signify
Exact measures.
Twist on axis
With perfect posture.
Unnoticed frameworks bar our days.
We are brass.
The more crass are silver, gold.
And the days are polish. Or maybe sand.
Soon there are no mistakes.
The veneer cakes without flaw.
We do not acknowledge.
We are not caught.
For little hours though, there are kinks.
Pauses.
Errors.
Open the clockwork face.
What is stuck?
A look around.
The gears that grind us to cognition
Are jammed by a fly-body
Of soul.
Soon, soon, sooner than ever
It will be crushed.
So gears might continue,
Might make room for the everyday.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 2:57 PM UTC
She hushes me repeatedly
as if my voice could be– too loud
for these shrunken, elder walls
What voice can I revive to tell her
that this little place...reminds me...?
Ratchet up the memories
the young mistakes
my welfare “townhouse”
as if my voice could be too loud?!
Where does anger go to say
These cheesy rugs remind me!
of the smoky halls, stoop-sittin’
head lice, **** roach
fumigated invasion
Music loud enough to blow pipes
induce trauma through the walls
Thud Crash
“Stupid ****
Knife-weildin’, drug-sellin’, boyfriend-of-a-future
A can of beer later...
with stress on hold
the smells of dinner, now—all fifteen of them!
Assault me through the front window
“Ya there yet?
...to this “cute little apartment, I mean?"
So it’s sold…
Someone else will wash windows, rake the yard
Shovel Massachusetts snow
Christmas lights come down
in my mind—
Running toward them still
Toes numb
Skates bouncin on my back
Sled firing off sparks against the sidewalk in my wake
Running and as always late
Mittens soaked, heavy
Like my eyes—
Mom and I
looking out this window for the last time
Looking out toward the daughter of the woods I was
Behind—me
the bride sinks
to the bare mattress—
“Was it really 57 years?
How can it be?”
since...clutching can opener and Coke
He scooped her up and through that door....
“How can it be? Oh my….”
"You can always keep the memories."
she chirps to check the tears
But I can’t taste them!
…Mom baking cookies
stew and dumplings on the stove
Snitching chocolate bits
waiting for the bowl
Impatient little helpers at her side
Colors slipping…
A child husks corn in sunlight
A blue Huffy gleams behind birthday candles
Sheets billow from the line
Sounds fading...
A choir of music boxes
before the Christmas carnage
Doing dishes in three-part harmony
I can barely wrap my words around our voices!
“You can always keep the memories”
Preamble to the dutiful decision
Hypothermic excuse
to dump the place
Street sign shrinking in the rear-view
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
So I met this ***** that was lerkin like a cool,
chic head up angled like she was aiming for a fool *****
Looked like a ratchet who da hell would snatchet unless ya faith is sappy
cause that girl hella *****
Bend down to light a halfy,
Cut shorts **** snorts wreak smoke
Might choke Taahaaa she broke no joke,.
Brain tied Boy lied Needa hero,.
On time,tart lime,she know she be a zero.
Ghett heals wet meals not real done deal,.
(sais the white girl that want's to be a rapper :)
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
our sky is spectrum
there is the peace of
a lake’s night-face
in our presence,
the ratchet of a thousand
orbits encircled-
wholly intersected through the palms.
a collective vibrato.
this unmasked, awesome wave of
silent happenstance
gathers kneading masses
to lay deadly beneath
oaken inscription,
cast about the heavens
in splinters of light.
our shaken, fevered dance
does not separate the halves
we are corpus callosum,
a passing stab embodied,
writhing jazz rhythm
untouched from pre-production.
so slice us into maps.
paste our highwayed bodies
in the grinding gloom
we will be your compass rose
when the pedals
are no longer smooth.
we will grace the dirt
when oceans are no comfort.
the palm-lines of healers
and street urchins
are the same.
child,
this anthem is your name.
if blood runs black,
a frame collapsed,
will we sing over your grave.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC