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Cori MacNaughton Jun 2015
Oh what of the demon cat
Foul tauntress in my sight
Whose reputation for ratting
Far exceeds her deeds this night

Far more likely she, to play
Than upon that one to pounce
She tolerates the evil rat
Within this very house

25Apr2002
I wrote this poem after an incident when a fruit rat got inside our house, and our two cats, Bonnie and Clydesdale, both female, merely watched it go.  While purring no doubt.
I did ultimately find it dead behind the sofa, oh joy, so I guess they finally did something, though it didn't have a mark on it.

I have read this poem in public but this is the first time it appears in print.
Michael Parish Sep 2013
Were you a tomboy, the girl
who played football at recess.
The only one who didnt run
when a mouse died inside
the yellow pudding.
Jblm knows a girl.
She sneaks into the motor
Pool and wont
pass up taking
tanks for joy rides.
Or forget about
ratting out who
has the hugest mangina
down inside the unicorn.  
He walks by pulling up
His pants while a drip
of ***** martinie clencses
the uneven stony floor.
Her fingers move faster then
whips when she steals a cigarett
from his soft young lips.
Schmucker Dec 2013
Plenty of poems from broken hearts who got loved then dumped.
Women writing poems about wanting a man back after he ***** dogged her.
Don't take rocket scientist to know something wrong with that picture.
Clue to men who ain't going to stay put even if he put a ring on it.
He's flirting with everything in a skirt, He ain't attentive after he hit it,
You gotta be the one always calling, He don't call unless he wants to hit,
He gets defensive when you want to know why he wasn't where he said he'd be.
Those are signs he's c-h-e-a-t-i-n-g and so are the ones coming up.
You catch him in lies and he makes you think your losing it.
He closes window of his computer when you enter the room.
All his is password protected and he wont tell you his passwords.
He's getting and receiving text messages he wont let you read.
He leaves the room when he gets a  call.
If you answer his phone you get hang ups, phone rings until he answers.
He wont let you meet his friends or his family.
He starts arguments so you wont go with him when he leaves.
Men don't get ****** cause I'm ratting you out. Read one too many
heart break poems to be sorry for truth telling on my gender.
Men think about *** when they not having it.
If he don't want to hit it he's hitting it else where.
Coming up is ones to skip and avoid.  
You can skip the ones who look at your cleavage and not your eyes.
You can skip the ones who live with mamma.
If he wants you to hurry up and quit talking or makes you feel like you
can't do nothing right, skip him too ladies or you gonna be bawling your eyes out over him.
Trev is a young dude and he needs to be liked by all




Trev is having a hard time getting teased by his little bro Markie, who was a real little cool kid, and when I say cool kid, I mean he does all the popular things, and all the rough cool kids loved my his brother Markie a lot, and Trev, is just a regular joe who likes to just go down the shop and have drinks, sitting down talking about fathers who were fairly strict, mind you Trev had all respect for his father, but that doesn't stop him from ratting him off to friends over a nice cold can of coke.
You see Trev had a main best mate named Heath, who was a real friend, well at least Trev thought that as Heath always seemed to listen to him, but Heath wanted really to be a cool kid, while Trev just wanted to talk about the things he watched on the TV, and he said a lot about that new music show named Later with Jools and Trev said that Jools Holland was a real hero for music fans to see their favourite music, and I know that sounds like what cool kids talk about, Trev, who, yes I haven't told you, as autism, and he gets obsessed with music, and every conversation was about music and being cool calm and collected.
Heath, didn't want to upset Trev but really he didn't want to listen to every conversation about music, you see it drove him nuts, and Heath didn't have it in his heart to tell Trev, because it could hurt his feelings, but really Trev could throw a tantrum, and Heath cared too much for that.
So Heath became Trevs only friend and came over to his house every weekend to play with him, but when Trev bought out the toys and started to talk about baby talk, you know he was only 8, but Heath didn't speak like that, and even Trevs younger brother Markie who still was using his mothers pet name as his name at 6, he was more grown up, and Heath often tried to tease Trev with his brother, and yes they teased Trev, and Trev was getting very angry, but he kept on trying to talk to his friend, he said ' who do you want to win today in the first round of the AFL, and Markie said how about we choose the team you aren't going for, and then Trev told Heath to come to the shop to buy a drink, and talk about problems with our families, cause Trev was thinking that just because your family has enough money to support you, it still can be a nightmare trying to grow up in a family like that, and Heath, who was getting sick of Trev winging and whining, just said to him that he liked him, and despite of what he says to his brother, it is just a joke, but of course Heath is a kid, and he was a poor kid, so instead of saying what I just said he said, that is what he meant, he actually said, you know , yo, man, wots, happning, ya fams orye qui comply, which you know Trev thought was complete jibberish, and started to think that Heath didn't care about him and sort of gave him the cold shoulder treatment, and Heath sort of noticed the chemistry trying to actually understand, and said his jibberish, which was yo man wots up,
Yo dude, ya nid ta liten up, and Trev was tired of this language and started to wonder why a friend of his was talking like this, this talking isn't proper talking, it'total jibberish, sure he is nice to me, but he speaks this real spastic jibberish, it drives Trev nuts, but really, he has no friends, at school, but he was honest, in that he couldn't figure out what language he spoke, and his brother Markie who heard him wonder what these words were in his mind on his bed, Markie started to teaee his brother saying, you are so ****** *******, you don't know anything that cool kids know, you stupid old ****, he is being cool, you see, ******, he say, yo, ya doin nuttin rye, ya stipid and yo a fu-en ritarded, spaz and Trev really was hurt, mainly because of the way he said it, because really those words meanr nothing, you see they are just words to suggest that kids can tease people who are disabled, so they can't figure out their goings on.
This kind of teasing was going on for days and days, and Markie was a real cool kid, everyone liked him, yes, like all kids want, Markie was popular and then Trev and Markies father noticed that Trev was starting to feel low, and really he tried it make Trev feel better, and yes Trev was normal enough, but his autism kept him from expressing how he feels about Markie and his friends teasing him, and his father and mother sort of were starting to figure things out and when Markie got home, their parents told Markie to behave himself and stop teasing his brother, and then Markie jumped up and said yo da, u
No tes ma bro, u spikin I tun, and then their dad said, maybe, but he ain't like the other kids, he has autism, and you know he needs to feel like people care about him, and Markie  moved around saying I ain hippin he, and then their dad said, if you don't I will ground you for weeks, and Markie promised to make an effort to be nicer to Trev, and Trev really was excited, so excited, be started treating his brother Markie like Heath, and then he thought he was a cool kid, and yes, Trev wanted to treat Markie like a ******, but unknown to Trev, their dad told Markie to go easy on him, but Trev got hypo over the fact that he was a cool kid, kids even said he was like us, man, but still Trev was still too disabled to know young words, but it didn't worry him, because the time his new cool friends noticed it, they were getting too old to tease people that way, even Markie moved on in the adult way, yes maybe This is the time for Trev to be an adult and not worry about being told he's stupid, because only losers tease like Markie used to, because that is just childish, and everybody lived happy through their lives, even Trev, the end


Sent from my iPhone
Infamous one Apr 2013
My personal life is not that interesting that's why I participate or watch sports. I use to coach I can't always be at my best but I like to help others strive for it. I don't like to argue I like to get things done.
As a trainer I don't care as long as you try it takes repetition to get better and building on top of what your doing.
I've showed ppl how to do so but they have to want to do so. Diets important but it is killer because learning discipline is hard watching what you put in your body!
Cutting back on sweets and ratting more greens makes a difference and could produce rapid results.
Hanson Yang Sep 2018
you'd know if ******* with you, you're only ******* with precise time
taking all that my heart can take, i'm losing pace so rerise mine
thinking that now that is true is that of the past is concedence of back
i'll ****** you ******* talking like if i didn't know my own being collectively, i warn your future like i say again, i'll ****** you ******* like ratting you out in packs
pack the steel rather than back was feel, what that, "I'll ****** you *******" like if mine was real
hype poppin **** like if was women was owned
i'll display the images of the future like sacred ideas of your own rabbit assed mind'll condone,
I'll ****** you ******* cuz it's a balance,
you feel pulse in ambivalence so stop poppin attitude cuz you're raising me wrong redeeming forgiveness in balance
you muthafuckahs gotta know you're living in soul like you were ever alive in my home
******* with all of my phones, i'll belt your *** like i owned every satellite sat saturn turned up when i'm burned up when you're ******* with all of my phones standin
capacity roam your tenacity's shown every capacity at being stolen of my life like all finalities owned
mistakenly like balance you're shortening truth as each different wife is being lied to indepently told
my capacity growth is closer to death now that my finalities owned
redeem it like i didn't reveal em ****:
so your now reading everything dear closer to you now cuz you're enlivening ****
Eva Louise Nov 2015
Liz,
    I saw you on Christmas
    at church in a black dress and pearls
    we made light conversation
    as we fill filed out with the postlude
    
    31 days later, an ambulance picked you up from your friends house
    there were no lights, there were no sirens
    the obituary told me it was an accidental ****** overdose
    you were 21
    I wish i had seen the bruises on your arm that christmas
    before I walked into the snowy night

Liz,
      your funeral was held at the same church where I saw you last
      where we spent all these years
      as the postlude drew to a close
      we studied the back of wooden pews
      we asked ourself the  same question
      "Would I have been able to help?"
      we beg the walls for answers
      but they offer no reply

Liz,
     If I saw the bruises, would I have known?
     If I had known, would I have the courage to say anything?
     What would I have said?
  
    I could've given you a scared-straight talk
    with warnings and statistic
    shown you before and after pictures
    ripped from a health textbook
    but spitting facts into the face of an addict
    is like lecturing someone of the dangers of riptides
    when they're six miles from shore
    rambling about 3rd degree burns
    to someone trapped in a burning house
    but how do I keep forgiving from becoming ignoring?
    how do I stop helping from bordering on ratting out?
    I want to to get help but I don't want you to resent me
                God, what I would give
                for you to hate me right now

Liz,
      my mother discussed your passing
      with friends with red wine lips
            "Oh, Liz? Yeah- my son said she was a ****** kid"
      a ****** kid, not the pastor's daughter
     or the mission trip veteran,
     not the day care teacher, or the prankster,
     not the angel in the 2006 Christmas play
    
     Where is the line between good and bad?
     how many track marks does it take to turn a girl into a statistic?
     how far in must one drive the needle to be reduced
     to the trope of a ****** kid
     how many melted milligrams does it take to wash away the good qualities
     and leave behind a skeleton of a girl we once knew

Liz,
     they say you're gone, you're in a better place
     but God i know you're still here
     I see you in the flowers, skirting the steps of the church
     I hear you between the harmonies
     of all the hymns
     I can feel your presence
     breathing out from the cracks in the stone walls
     I see you in coffee shops
     and in restaurants and on the streets
     mocking me to do a double take
     before I remember
     and you know we have forgiven you
     as we have wailed it at the stained glass
     I really hope you have learned to forgive us

Liz,
     I saw you christmas eve
     black dress and pearls
     you died 31 laters
     you were 21
     I wish I had seen the bruises on your arm
    I wish I could've helped
old poem, another slam poem into written
Dennis Willis Jan 2019
I'm writing sideways
So I can use these lines
As a windscreen
From the blowback
From ratting
The universe out

I think we're a hernia
Erupted from some other place
A bent band
erupting in matter
of fact
I'm right

So there

Unsupposed
to be
we are

Do we live
on the friction's...
Are we...

Aye there's the rub




Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis
BLitZeD Feb 2016
BIRTH OF AN ANG3L

To keep it real "G"
Any ***** can get it,
I be that ***** that you see dog rocking the fitted.
Sitting with a bottle just chilling an sipping,
I don't give a **** about you,
but ya *****, ya best believe, that I will ******* hit it.
The coke, the ****, the pills, everybody knows that I will ******* flip it.
Ask your hommies dog, they'll tell you just how I kick it,
And when it comes to the gat,
you know imma be the first ***** to load that clip in.
**** that **** back, fire one round ,aim just sick with it.
Leave you on the ground twitching,
With your jaw just spitted and ya dome just dripping.
So step the **** back ******,
Its ******* like you that keep my trigger finger itching.
//
An you know that bullets got so much pull to it your bound to get hit.
One in the front an one to blow your back out a bit, *****.
* BLitZ3D *
Hit the ground so you don't get slumped.
because when you hear that sound, it means the 12 gauge is pumped.
Double barrel get you buried, early funeral.
**** it,
Get the students too,
Columbine,
Watch them run an hide.
Pray to the sky just to find out your GoD is a lie.
Switch that G to an A and you got a ******* Angel inside.
Ferocity of a Bangle with stripes.
50 cal. the velocity's tight.
Once you in sight, ain't no point for resistance,
Despite the distance there is no missing the extinction of your existence.
For instance,
Night terrors caused by night vision make insurgents split second decisions clouded by thought of them envisioning my ballistics incisions coloring there face crimson.
While explosive rounds burn there repulsive frowns up-the-****-side-down.
Scramble to keep there insides in,
but burn from the inside out.
Outcomes always vertical,
Bodies buried down

STORY OF AN ANG3L

He can catch it,
Steel from the ratchet,
Trim his top, **** a tomahawk, Gimme a hatchet,
Maybe a rusty ax, Some gas, And a box of matches,
Add in a Jason mask an ill show you some sad ****.
This is the death of another tag,
Tag ripped
like a soul from a body, sooo...

I'm no longer a SoLDjA,
No longer a GHOSt,
Not even BLitZ3D,
This is OM3Ga AGG3L0s,

Grab the bull by the horns because I got horns like a bull.
Just missing the right side, it was ripped from my skull.
I bear the scares of a warrior, earned in full.
If the horn ain't enough, check the bent up halo.
I play 4 both sides , Stand tall and Creep low.
Quick to burn threw ya, an slow smoking a O.
Always been Alpha, I liked to play that part.
Now i'm out-casted, a choice made in my heart,
Because if u think for a second that bravos made a move,
You didn't stand  a chance from the start.
Every things been planned out.
I dug my own grave an covered it with a ******* tarp,
Only move your making is one into a trap,
Jeronomo
a precaution, to cover my tracks.
A hunter cant hunt whats hunting him back.
The classic story of how opposites attract.

An when your attacked,
Like a zombie to a Hashin,
A cat to a rat,
A bat to a rat.
A gangster with a bat to a rat,
22. through the black to land in the back of the rats back for ratting behind your back like a rat,
Call that echo location,
An that rat bagged up in the trash, dispatched naked to an undisclosed destination

DEATH OF AN ANG3L**

I'm Isis
Sike kid
I'm just righteous
All through the night my minds like this
I'm physic
That's right *****
Sights ****
See me within, the lights lit ,
BLitZeD in bliss
Omegas in the mist
Azrael in chains
But lets be real, there all one in the same
Yes, im sane, let me explain
One is like the Joker,
A pocket full of knifes,
The others like Bain
When he beat the **** out of the Dark Knight
Omega is the knife, the moment when Batman looses his life
Omega is the mask,  that regulates the gas just right
Azrael pushes the blade deep from the shade
The gas from within, he causes the haze
BLitZeD is the player, the one this game don't phase
The one that walks in like its nothing and sets the bomb under the stage
Three pieces to a puzzle, together they make the forth
Not until they come as one do you see who really holds the pitch fork
Death Of an Angel,
Take those words and contort
nicholas ripley Jul 2014
Having skipped through fresh bloomings of
Lesser Celandine, feet numb to their shiny hearts;

one-foot-spanned the wild River Beal,
the other missed, trailed, became sodden.

Green eyes scanned, surveyed the horizon, with its path
to Gallows hill, so with one foot cold he ascended;

Tarmac pounded his heart, as words,
from god-knows-where, flushed synapses.

Perhaps it was the discord of former chains
ratting in the bleakness, crimes of dependencies

crying for release that swept his attention on the wind,
or a lapse into timeless genetics, coursing naturally.

He died up there, left a ghost on a former gibbet,
then descended to the Beal's banks of Yellow Flag Iris.

June 2014
Summer Oct 2016
I tried to hate you
but then I remembered
Wes Anderson
and first kisses
the sort of things that cover
bad songs and poorly worded excuses
and the secret site
I poured my thoughts to
the times it was worse than just "things are bad right now"
and pills
Celexa didn't do anything.
Zoloft made me suicidal.
Effexor was just right but needed to be upped after a while.
seems like nothing ever works right
or is it just me?
soon i can to realize
it’s not
i’m not the only one you did this to
i wanted to believe
it was just towards me
because i was me
no
i hope you and your girlfriend get high enough
to leave the planet
your first name starts with h
and ends with e - l - l
Perfume makes my head ache
the makeup caked on my eyes
cause them to itch.
your girlfriend is using dope and
you're with her
you both act like you're Conor O.
Using your friends
for the drugs
ratting them out
she looks at me
but can’t hold a stare
funny isn’t it
maybe she knows what you’re doing is wrong.
Ironically we are all supposed to help people grow
but you pull the roots from the ground
And empty the water into your eyes
So you can cry
It's not a beautiful thing to do
we're stuck with you
not growing
the sky is still out of reach
All my friends are in love
With their abusive ex girlfriend
I should just add myself to the list
my stepfather says that I'm falling apart
As an insult
as others say
Stop that attitude
Stop being so negative
*****.
i hope my anger towards the world will maybe make sense
but next time you see me
don’t look at me
i hear a girl screaming outside my window
but i don’t shut it
i head outside to see if she’s okay,
she’s on the ground crying
asking
“wasn’t love supposed to be enough?”
she reminds me of the past
and i shake
I’m crying on the phone in the library and a girl
sits by me and asks
“are you okay?”
i don’t know if i should be honest
so i just say
“no, but i’m better than i was a few months ago”
losing you wasn’t a loss
and i try to hate you
and i might
but the secret site is closed down
and i don’t go to it anymore anyways
i kiss others to get the taste of you out
wes anderson is great but we only watched one movie of his together anyways and
i was too busy looking at you to even appreciate it
An existentialist farm boy with a severe case
of insomnia
Ratting 'round his kitchen in danger of
a *******
Happy with his honey and his biscuits
His chocolate milk and his Whitman* .....
Copyright December 2 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Lawrence Hall Mar 2017
The Smart Phone That Came in From the Cold

Along the bridge that was a wall a phone
Whispered endearments to a thermostat
Hoping to turn it as a double agent
Which would betray the satellite TV

Beyond the talking doll that talks too much
The new refrigerator’s ice machine
Betrayed its memory chip to a light bulb
Which killed an activity tracker gone rogue

Your teapot is a data dump – it’s true!
And your fountain pen is ratting on you
Lawrence Hall May 2021
25 May 2021
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                     That ****** Covert Covid Microchip

My vaccination card is all complete
Two jabs for the immunity herd, so I’ve heard
And don’t believe that stuff about the chip
The microchip ratting us to the F.B.I.

No, not the F.B.I., nor the C.I.A.
Nor the jolly folk at the N.S.A. -
My microchip speaks to me in Russian
And I don’t understand Russian, so it’s okay

Thus not a careless word will ever pass my lip
About my ****** covert covid microchip
It's on the InterGossip; it MUST be true.
Things I primarily don't understand
How you say your a gem. A major 10. I'm a loser. Your the better man
Number 2 is my confusion.
It's the ever illusive
Dan the ******* weatherman.
Call me goof. I suppose.
The formula never consisted of a better plan.
I stand against the weathered glass.
And beg your dad to lick my sweaty ***.
Machete glass.
And paper cuts.
And weapons ..... right....
You ******* bet I'm right.
I'll set your life into a cleaner scene. If your worried your the methy type.
Who gets things messy right.
Who does drugs and drinks most every night
**** the world.
I'm more in line with. Forgive thyself.
On not just one. But on fuckn every night. Before you close your eyes.
And grip your pillow type.
Remind ****.
Not to sit inside the tactile breaches
Of your inner mind.
And sit inside.
Might get a ****** mind.
So left enverose.
Sifts. Like salt or sodium.
You know inside my soul.
The ******* weather's fine.
I created more than mold from clay.
Paint by numbers.
Underrated raps that come in ******* heavy weight...
So admit. Before we catch the snitch like playing quidditch in harry Potter's eyes. You ******* gotta die....
You tattled. I feel bad.
They shouldn't a friggin stabbed you guy
I know you felt bad
But that's what happens
For ratting on your fam.
If you ain't a family guy....
I wish you hadn't done that
Kind of yapping.
***** the tragic type.
But you know what happens
To the cast of magic Mike after they
Get yapping about.
The gals. They ****** back stage.
For cash. Respect and ******* bragging rights
Just some more raps
"HELLO MR. DEATH AND HOW ARE YOU?"

I felt like a fog
in the shape of a man
a dream walking

a shadow
come alive
never more

alive now
I was
dying

this moment
the most precious thing
I had ever owned

unable
to believe
I was leaving

the sunlight of this
morning behind
me forever

time lay scattered
on the ground
my reflection trapped

in broken bits of mirror
strange that I
would never be

me
ever
again

a cuckoo
( the clock )
not( the bird )

had the last word
I had to
smile...

*

Felt good to cheat my own heart attack..you kinda attack it back with nothing but words and the need to capture it and make it talk.But it's impossible to grasp and poem after poem tries to hold it only for to flow like water between your fingers....like trying to grab hold of a piece of sky and wrestle it to the ground.

Alas my little brother didn't manage to cheat his and the words keep trying to explain this unexplainable fact to my self. I look at the typewriter and it looks back at me...both of us at a loss for words.

"Бог правду видит, да не скоро скажет", as they say in Russian.

Spring had arrived in that Dublin morning...just snuk in when we weren't looking. We were having breakfast and after we would cycle to Eccles Street to see a real house that was lived in by a fictional character. The house was a mere ruin and would soon be knocked down to make way for a new hospital wing.
Time, as it happens, stops when one is dying or rather that particular moment lengthens forever and a second is a century. Mr. L. Bloom's house was in my mind and my hat would later blow off into its basement and I would be as one with the man himself as I lowered myself down to retrieve it...thus entering a chapter in Ulysses. And the fiction was made real.

I had just read Huxley's TIME MUST HAVE A STOP and afterwards thought how ha ha...apt!

I had also come across a 1664 phrase about  buds that "explain into leaves"  which I thought delightful.

I had also came upon a battered copy of Bacon's SYLVA SYLVARUM (  A natural history, in ten centuries. Whereunto is newly added the History natural and experimental of life and death, or of the prolongation of life) which alas would go inexplicably missing and which I would never read to this day.

These are the things that were running through my head when I was going to be dead but...just as suddenly wasn't.

Oh and Tolstoy's GOD SEES THE TRUTH BUT WAITS was ratting about in my mind somewhere so it was going to be a very literary( literally )death!

Each Spring I go back and revisit my death( that wasn't )feeling glad to be just....alive and...in the moment.

— The End —