"scumbag" poems
You’re a poisoned rose in a wedding band,
A glad eye with a stabbing hand,
A tumour ,vicious rumour surrounds you,
BP Exxon -death abounds you,
I first found you amusing and witty,
cutting remarks a stick with both ends ******
Gutter scumbag with a glaze of charm,
Only interested in doing harm,
A sociopath with a crocodile smile,
always had the last laugh,- real fight? Run a mile,
Backstabber Judas priest,but **** was I deceived,
Each Lie you sold I truly believed.
I stood by you ,defended you til the bitter end,
Bitter irony I know,with you as a friend,
Who the **** needs enemies, its all a front,
An affront to my instincts,get out of my life you ****
chorus
"My toxic friend this is the end get out of my life for good,
Every time you smile a child dies you’re up to no good,
Don’t call me-text me unfriend me before you end me,
You’re the epitome of the new word-Frenemy."
Now I hear you’re spreading rumours behind my back,
Bad move,wrong play better stand back,
Your malicious manouevery no longer stands,
I’m two steps ahead your end is planned.
You better watch your back,you’ve got no back up and no spine,
Juggling hedgehog maze lies through a field of land mines,
I’ve got my eye on you ex pal,don’t worry your time’s come,
we’ll see who can outrun the .45 from a gun,
That you’ve been begging for for years no tears at your end,
You’re a poxy oxymoron my toxic friend.
So come out to play my way and see who draws first,
I guarantee you a surprise not my blood burst,
Flying in the air like a hose god only knows,
You’re a fly in my eye a burr under my skin so out she goes,
The left that hits your jaw will saw your head from your neck
You talk a good fight,good night,I’ll leave ya wrecked.
chorus
"My toxic friend this is the end get out of my life for good,
Every time you smile an angel loses wings you’re no good,
Don’t call me-text me unfriend me before you end me,
You’re the epitome of the new word-Frenemy."
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
A lot of people are so quick to criticize other people not knowing what they go through or went through in their life . I met a women she was always grumpy . In my head I was like she's a ***** .. so I would always be in her class room .... I'm the type that will sit their quite and analyze you ...so I'm looking at her just by me staring at her while she wrote down my assignment I asked her if she was okay .. she look to the side and said yes me knowing she wasn't she wouldn't let me see her eye to eye I noticed she had a patch on her face of make up not blend to well I noticed it was a bruise.. when class ended I waited to be the last one out of the students went up to her and told her that is not to late to get away from the toxic relationship ,she didn't know what to say she couldn't speak her voice was in knot she leaned over to me I ended up hugging her she cried in my arms and she said I try my best to be perfect and im not good enough . .... it broke my heart when she said that a young beautiful women dealing with a ******* Scumbag.....
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 2:23 AM UTC
Saw someone drop their phone
and laughed at them.
I'd like to watch the world drop
their stupid/smartphones
and have to look at each others
stupid goat like faces and gazes.
Remind me what heaven looks like,
all I remember is that I'm a scumbag
with moral insensitivity and
you are my nightmares off the page.
Simultaneously a classic,
also a contemporary gore piece.
A landmine seized by epidemic.
Walked away with an insincere
"I'll see you later",
and I responded with a sincere
"Whatever."
Maybe I'm destroying myself in
character slowly but it takes
so ******* long still.
I cheered an old man who crossed the street alone.
I'm getting too close to yelling at a manager,
and losing a job I need to much.
Too close to the edge, but
when I think about it I always am,
and when I think even harder
I hate everything so much.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC
You're just the
diamond in the rough
streets Chi-burbia
The girl next-door archetype
I'm just the
scumbag
psychopath
soliciting
snapchats
Darling,
Don't you wanna
get disrespected?
I know this wine
is loosening my lips
How about you?
Are you all wet yet?
Do you want me
to come in?
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
A man murdered his stepdaughter and framed me for the crime.
I was arrested and found guilty by a jury and I had to do hard time.
He blew his stepdaughter's head off because she refused to sleep with him.
He tried everything he could to get what he wanted but she wouldn't give in.
She was a good girl and she would not betray her own mother.
He murdered her in cold blood, that's how little he thought of her.
I was the gardener and I had a crush on the man's stepdaughter.
But he set me up, he made it look like I was the one who shot her.
He hid the ****** weapon in my apartment.
When the cops found it, jail was where I went.
While doing hard time, the thought of getting even kept me from coming unhinged.
The only thing that kept me going was knowing that I would eventually get revenge.
Getting revenge wasn't just something that I wanted, it was also something that I needed.
But that scumbag died just one month before my release, so when it came to getting revenge, I was cheated.
I wanted to torture that pervert and when he truly suffered, he would die by my hand.
I wanted him to beg for mercy he wouldn't receive and I truly wanted to **** that man.
I'm thinking about committing suicide because I was unable to make him pay.
How can I go on when my chance of getting revenge has been taking away?
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 5:48 PM UTC
Dear Ms. Di Prima,
I really,
Really,
Think that Alchemy—Alchemy--Al-Chem-EEEEE
Is a
Nifty
Topic.
But,
My mother has a ring
Of gold.
Standard Gold,
No lead. None.
Or had,
Until our house was
B-R-O / K-E / N
Into
By some lowlife scumbag with
Too much ability
And
Not enough intelligence.
With Alchemy
I could make a shitload
Of Gold (wasn't that the point?),
Provided I had the
Lead,
And not that
IMPOSTER
Crap in pencils (Graphite. My childhood was a shambles.).
But it's only valuable
Because
We're willing to pay so much.
Like with Diamonds.
Or Japanese Akita.
Or Wagyū.
It's not a lie.
Just a trick.
Making you think you want things that you don't need because it helps someone else who you've never met make more money than they'd ever be able to use in a legitimate way
(HOOKERS AND BLOW).
All of these things are synthetic.
With the exceptions of
Gold
And
Graphite.
So,
Maybe,
Alchemy did work out alright,
Just not in the anticipated way.
We can make all sorts of things.
But they become coveted only when they exist.
Just ask Swipey McStickyfingers.
It actually wasn't gold.
You just got a bunch of painted junk,
And passports.
No rubies.
We weren't international crooks,
Renowned and beloved
By jealous zealots.
It was purely sentimental.
But you can't understand.
You can't fondly look at the earrings as the last reminder of a deceased parent.
You can't flip through the identification booklet and be flooded with memories of your first trip out of the country.
You ****** You can't even cash the savings bonds that were bought to put someone through college.
No. He got a box of documents and some cheap jewelery.
But still. Probably called for celebration. A successful heist
Because his brain is still in his head.
We create people as well as objects.
Ms. Di Prima,
In the end,
Some people will always be
Clasping ********
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 6:38 PM UTC
..And I probably shouldn't
have used my real name
But that's the fool inside of me
I walk home at three in the morning
In a white fedora, black suit, and winged tipped shoes with a pointed toe
Accompanied by a lone trumpet
Shrieking a wailing lonesome tune
As I walk slyly, cigarette in hand
In a strange off beat step
Through dark alleys, side streets,
And ***** parks
I give a *** a fifty dollar bill
And wait,
Stop there!
A scumbag is assaulting a woman
And I of course save the day
Suddenly
I come to, crawling to my toilet
A horrifying sting of mace
I dreadfully check my messages
And in ***** covered disgrace..
I despise,
My big dumb tequila poisoned face
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 3:00 AM UTC
August 14, 2012
When I see you, I will play nice.
I won't tell you how, when we talked that Saturday four days after you left, I ran away from home and my mom couldn't find me for three hours.
I won't tell you how the first month, I cried myself to sleep most nights and I couldn't even bring myself to watch television because I couldn't stand seeing happy couples in shows because it hurt too much.
I won't tell you that now, no matter how badly I want to, I can no longer cry.
I won't tell you how I sought comfort in feelings that were never really there.
I won't tell you that the idea that I would soon see you completely consumed my thoughts since I found out.
I won't tell you I know exactly how long it's been to the day since you left, and that I still can't bring myself to delete the pictures of you on my cellphone, or how I saw that you deleted the ones of us off Facebook and that broke my heart more than it should have.
You might notice that I still wear your late mom's crystal bracelet, but I won't tell you how obsessively careful I am not to break it just because you asked me to be back when you still loved me.
I won't tell you how much it satisfies me that you're lonely and miserable. How your pain and regret is my personal revenge.
I won't tell you about the equal satisfaction I got when that girl who I was friends with told me you admitted it was about your mom, and the laugh I got out of the fact you said I was right.
I won't tell you how I see you slowly realizing I was the best girl you will ever have.
I won't tell you how sometimes, I ********** to my best friend, the one I told you I had no attraction to.
I won't tell you how the one day I had cuddling with him felt more right than the entire year I spent with you.
I won't tell you that, after you left and I ****** my ex, I always imagined he was you.
I won't tell you how I never forgave you for not coming to the hospital the day my Grandpa died and how I never forgave you for standing me up to go smoke up with your friend the day we had plans to hang out with mine and then lied to me about it, and I found out when I called your friend and asked if he'd seen you.
I might tell you that yes, you were a bad boyfriend, you're right.
I might tell you only a low scumbag of a person makes someone feel like their diagnosis is their fault.
But I definitely won't tell you that despite all that, I'm still in love with you.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Nobody mourn,
nobody get hurt
We just project
redirect the blame
and sink back
into interactions
with coping devices
of mass distraction
The artificial womb
of the masses
Tethered by an invisible
umbilical cord
feeding us way
too much
information
Like hungry ghosts
salivating
the next notification
We can’t run.
We can’t hide.
There’s a threat to survive,
But we’re so ******* desensitized
Seduced by the school shooter
we don’t hear him coming
singing siren songs
heart-beating shotgun blasts
That leitmotif
in sync with
The American Horror Story allegory
Just forget it
Too much in the queue
Too many new things
We can’t reject this reality
It’s really ******* broken
Em, I’m sorry we’re descending
Much Madness has lost its meaning
It’s just the means to
unlock an achievement
Emulate another scumbag.
romanticize a villain
amplify the bodycount
Like how many do you need to ***** out
before they give you the cover
of the Rolling Stone?
It's comedically-tragic,
Stranger than satire.
The Judge, the jury
Executioner cutie
cut all your losses for ya
cashed in your lil tax deductions
The most sacred snuffed out
before the light could become them
Get woke a-f,
This is enlightenment!
Come on get
your mind blown!
He’s the one who loves
to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
knows not what it means.
Do you know what it means?
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC
Would you prefer it if I called myself Master God?
Would it please everyone if I called myself beautiful? Or would it come off as fake?
Whatever, nevermind.
I am zero. I do not count. I am an omission. Neglected. Ignored. Alone.
I have developed many a personality. I have become everyone and everything and I am nearing ripe. I call myself a piece of ****
Why? Because no one else would… I call myself a scumbag, a loser, a failure, a disgrace.
Because no one would want that burden.
I call myself Jesus.
What confidence? Keep wondering. Deliberation hmm…
I call myself a piece of **** because why not?
If everyone called themselves a piece of **** we would all be the **** of the earth.
We would all be disgraces. The playing field will finally start at the bottom line.
We would be **** in unison.
We would **** embarrassment.
We would **** it.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 1:47 PM UTC
To live with struggles everyday, is to see Christ grace.
To see the attacks from that wicked scumbag demon too.
For Christ strength keeps you persevering through it.
While so many others have given up with no hope to stand on.
But when we place our hope on the Living God strength gets renewal.
So that even through the rough times we keep pushing through.
With the strength from the Lord helping us to overcome everything.
That those demonic forces throw right at us on a daily basis .
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 1:19 AM UTC
Do you want to know the truth?
The truth that hurts?
The truth you don't want to hear?
Here it is!
I am not a Dallas Cowboys fan.
There, I said it.
If you want my opinion on the Dallas Cowboys,
I'll be more than happy to give it to you.
They will not win another Super Bowl,
at least they won't in my lifetime.
In my prediction, they won't win for a hundred years,
long after I am gone, and long after you will be gone.
The days of Aikman, Irvin, and Smith are as long gone
as Tom Landry, and the use of that stupid hat.
Yes, I do know the wild, wicked history of what people call "America's Team",
the very same way an Atheist with a degree in theology knows the Bible.
Ask me which player snorted ******* during the Super Bowl
under the watchful eyes of millions of television viewers,
and I'll tell you that same guy ended up winning the Texas Lottery.
Ask me the name of the kicker that fooled around with a little girl,
ask me what Michael Irvin was doing on his 30th birthday,
ask me this, ask me that, and I will tell you,
and you will know that I will never love the Dallas Cowboys.
No sir, not when they currently have a wide receiver
with a tendency to lay hands on his mother.
Yeah, I know. That was a year ago. But still, he hit on his mother,
and I will never wear that scumbag's jersey
or shake hands with him if I saw him in person.
You may think I have a problem, and yes I do have a problem.
It's the Dallas Cowboys that I have a problem with.
They should never be on a football field
and call themselves America's Team
when they don't even have the best quarterback in football.
That's right. Tony Romo is a no-good prima donna
who will never live up to people's expectations.
Hell, he ain't half as good as Don Meredith,
and did Don Meredith win a Super Bowl?
Did Danny White win a Super Bowl?
Neither will Tony Romo.
Like I said, the Cowboys will never win another Super Bowl.
That's the truth, and if you can't handle the truth, then that's too bad!
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 7:22 PM UTC
A liar is someone who doesn't care
A scumbag, a low life, there truly unfair
That is someone I'll never be
I loved you dearly
I hope you will always see...
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
You can see the effects,
but you cannot feel them.
No matter the amount of understanding,
in this, I am forever alone.
I try to remain strong, I try.
But the demons,
the fire and the darkness,
ruthlessly tear me apart.
And as much as I want to believe
I can control it,
they are separate from me.
Once they take hold,
all I can do is reach for sanity,
which eludes so tortuously.
As the feeling creeps into my very soul,
I watch you, my friend, my lover,
become my enemy.
Your intentions seem vague and
sinister. Your motivations morph,
frightening and unreal.
I struggle,
against the demons.
THEY ARE WRONG.
I know you, they do not.
So they turn on me,
I am the piece of ****
I am the useless scumbag.
A willing sacrifice to be made
for you, my friend, my lover.
Are not my enemy.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
It could have been the cigarette hanging from your perfect lips that have me goosebumps or it could have been your jet black hair slicked back in a pompadour style only hipster kids have these days... Not sure really but it sent shivers down my body.
You were the type of boy who liked to drink whiskey and had neck tattoos & I was the type of girl who was more awkward than a turtle.
You had this mystery about you under those dark sunglasses and you were so tall & sleek in that red flannel and black jeans... You were so ... hot
I had this problem where I would just stare until you looked over, which you did, and in turn I would look away blushing with shame.
I took one glance back as I started to walk away and saw you grinning this huge grin with your pearly white teeth and septum ring touching your upper lip.. Pretty sure my heart melted.
You were the guy I had dreamed about at night and I didn't even know your name of course.
Who was I kidding? We would never see each other again.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
I wrote this after reading a poem about fake people off Facebook.
All is not fair in love when you got to research dudes secret desires and **** like that.
The real dudes want you to be real and not be head game queen to get him.
I'm a real man who spent time seeking women in all the wrong places.
Tried real life met my share of God faring GCB ****** droppers giving it up.
Met ones at bars who drink to much, will do you but blame it all on *****
I've met plenty of fake women seeking to get at what I have using *** methods.
Met many raised thinking marrying a rich man is better than a poor one.
If all the women claiming they want a decent guy were real they would find one.
Met some at malls wearing rings but bored with husbands and Facebook is a hunting
ground for lonely women and housewives like the ones off Craigslist placing ads.
Did some knowing they married ones weren't keepers they forgot they were married
not me. Who thinks about a wedding ring when married women come on to you and
you find **** what you see in profile pics and think you can't have it then BAM.
Husbands aren't the only ones placing ads and setting up hookups off net.
If you think I'm a scumbag what about the lonely married women who flirt, tease and
****** in chat and phone tempting you until you feel you gotta take it to real.
What about the young ones using bodies and *** to get a nice life and a ring on it.
Most of the young ones don't look at the man as desirable but are good at fake ***
Met a woman who got dumped by plenty of men and faked a pregnancy to get a
married man. After she got him to leave his wife, kids and home she had to fake
a miscarriage to keep from being dumped by the millionth man.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 4:30 AM UTC
Word Thugs with twitchin’ *******
got Nothing. So they steal
so they can make their **** real
Scumbag Soliloquists Rant
they’re Plagiarism ascant, but
Stolen Words won’t make them a Poet
Got a word homie
won’t put up with ****
Dead punk poets
gonna get their
vowels slit…
Their words ain’t
nothing but stolen
Bust them slackers
Don’t matter
they got backers
them all’s word hackers
if they had to write their own
their junk would be funk
*** they ain’t nothin’
But Poet Punks
I used to Love this Place now half my likes
are blank gray squares No one there
those accounts are deleted and HP defeated
I have had a lot of wonderful friends here
Who I love and respect but now the sites
Not worth my time
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 8:28 AM UTC
I've got this dull energy
Pulsing through my veins
Distracting me from Reality-
Making today less significant
Than a dream
Life whizzes by-
Blink an eye
And you might miss it
Expand your vision-
The world's a walking contradiction
So don't be so submissive
Take a risk
and kiss him!
And when he turns away?
Know you saved yourself
from another scumbag
Who's to say that all is truly fair
In this game of love, deceit and pain?
We all live the same way-
Killing to see and breathe another day
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 5:53 AM UTC
there is a door
obscura
in my mind
a black ocean
that smears alizarin mist
between love
and the dissolute
i hear
a storm of thick whispers
a breath calling
in free fall
my malleable lover
plays voodoo poppet
carousel of lady buddhas
diagramed unholy ***** *****
with scumbag eyeballs
contort for eager ruin
an ornamental cadaver
bejeweled
in a lake of tears
give me flesh
smell my rich ****
bouquet of **** the *****
transfixed eyes of flames
spread legs wide
thigh spillway buttered
loving the snag
and strangle
of a silk tourniquet
watch me shunt
and glassy stare
a glittering doll shimmies
blood bauble
and flapping tongue
torrent of curving jaws
clever teeth
to tear
and lips to be torn
a cockeyed brain
drowning in
illegible consciousness
for foot slaves
in a sweat and ****
magick show
body of irresistible horror
in descending spirals
to love
in the grotto
of furies
imbued with prayers
that fill the spaces
in her throat
martyr of transfiguration
she falls as
dust falls
i depend on her
tapestry of shuddering lust
in moist air
locked behind
a blood stained door
marked no exit
this savage pageant
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 12:27 PM UTC
“London calling to the faraway towns…”
[The Clash]
God man, trinket man, fake leather wallet man,
Drugs man, drumming man, dancing on the street man
Antique man, eel man, bus man, trades man
Boots man, bagel man, feed me I am hungry man,
Fit man, gay man, straight man, trans man,
Chinese man, white man, "oi-back-to-where-you came from" man
Business man, rugger man, beautiful wife and kids man
Eco man, hipster man, shouting man, shaking man,
Scowling man, scumbag man, shuffling don’t come near me man
War man, drunk man, cruising near the bushes man
Watching man, medal man, pickpocket poor man
Box man, sleeping man,think he might be dead man,
Lost man, lonely man,
Looking from the ledge man
Apr 10, 2023
Apr 10, 2023 at 10:50 AM UTC
Nobody's perfect I do what I can
If your perfect good luck with that
Your one on your own, cream of the crop
Trouble is I think your a ****
Your brilliant with figures, that can't add up
We call it deception, you call it a job
You magotty toad you utter *******
You bought all your friendship one day it will end
Behind bars or a ditch I'm not shure witch
Who ever gets you first you horrible ****
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
scumbag:
activate your squirrel *****
please mom,
i get sidetracked from being sidetracked.
dolphin cheese,
you're on my mind.
**** these days man,
and off to work we go...
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 1:31 AM UTC
I just don’t understand,
How can a man live among us?
At work, play, passing the time of day.
Normal.
Normal.
Normal – tinker.
– ****** a child, abuse, ****** –
Normal.
Normal.
Normal – tailor.
So, there are monsters: truly!
Vile depraved horrors masquerading as people.
At work, play, passing the time of day.
Normal.
Normal.
Normal – soldier.
– ***** evil, scumbag –
Twisted.
Twisted.
Twisted – killer.
Take care, always be aware.
An unassuming face, in or out of place.
I just don’t understand, cannot understand.
Tinker.
Tailor.
Soldier – Murderer!
© Paul Chafer 2014
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 9:56 AM UTC
Why do I smell cinnamon in the corner of the room?
We must begin this taxing slow-dance before my mother hears us.
My Cradle. Your Cradle.
I felt your pulse spike before my back hit the wall.
And we’re both young enough to say this can’t really mean anything.
The sea whisper’d me.
The staunch, scarlet statues.
The ringing phone in the glove compartment.
No, I’ll take paper, instead. The renegade robots are all dead.
This flight. This grip.
Talk to the scumbag rocker in the Primus hoodie.
Did you spy the shoes on the power lines?
Don’t worry – we’ll keep our arms at the level of our eyes.
We bumped into the roses in the closet.
A wasp could sting you then sting me.
Such is the burden of my position --
An interpreter and a translator of the venom
passed through a sting.
The mail-sorter in the dead letter office.
Oh, hey --
Could you stake your paw print on it?
I would take the slivers from this past year’s thigh.
Down a trickle, faceted deep within a pulled star’s root.
I’ll follow that root back to where it came – dig and pitch the grime from a catalyst’s pores.
Times slopes
and our teeth rattle with each somersaulting channel of memories.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC
give me back my time I wasted on you
even if it was only a few weeks
because they are worth more
than who you will ever be
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC