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Sara Kellie Jul 2018
You're trouble, you're toil.
Yes, trouble and toil.
With you I think I'll bring to the boil.
A pinch of salt and a teaspoon of oil
but not too much, your taste it'll spoil.

I'll take off your beard.
To eat that would be weird.
But gristle that makes your knees
into crackling . . .
. . . oh yes please.

With mint sauce on each cheek,
two kebabs that are seekh.
Not keen on the chin
so I hope you don't mind,
that goes straight in the bin.

Chop, chew, swallow and digest.
Can you guess which part
of you I like best?
It's your nose that I grate
all around the edge of my plate
and because I've asked "Please"
that you try not to sneeze.
It makes a much better garnish
than parmesan cheese.

Savoury poetry by Kaydee.
I'm just messing now.
cait-cait Jul 2018
i hate you,
i think, as you try to shoot me to death.

standing above me with a gun in my face

you feel
rage like undissolved sugar in
warm milk -
and
there’s blood on the floor and
then there’s me
,
                          
                          dying and almost dead,
but
you left my eyes open ,
and i know
you forgot the ****** weapon:

so i’m going to take it with me.

one day ,

i’m going to heal ,
and i’m going to remember —

you took my gun ,
took all my bullets
                                too .

and i still won’t ever shoot back.
im actually in japan right now! Having the time of my life *****!! Staying in a suburb of Tokyo with my previous host family doing mundane stuff... it’s great! This poem is inspired by what my friend said to me after I sent her a happy pic of me... basically told me I looked out of place and was wrong for enjoying myself. It made me feel terrible and like ****. Anyways long story but something happened and she left our group chat and I didn’t notice!! But now she joined again and won’t tell me why she left and I think it’s because she knows she ****** up. Some people’s punishments are just being themselves. Sorry for the long description. Happy summer everyone!!
Humans acting inhumane
purposely maim
For some higher purpose
serving no purpose
that requires them to purposely
commit these atrocities?

Pah-leeze

Kids and young adults
mostly dolts
not understanding
Looking to belong
it doesn’t add up
Won’t be long
until they’re not left standing
left underneath the heel
of a consuming lunatic
A blackened heart
no time will heal

Served up as another meal
Just an added wheel
One more cog
Doing for “God”
the most ungodliest of acts
Acting pious
but I’m not buying
Won’t get by us

Get left in the dust
They may be resolute
in this crusade they carry
but cruelty served among the blade
may have worked in the past
But that time has come and past
and like a book past due
so is the rue
that will be served upon you

Tuck those napkins into your shirts
because your time is short
And if there is a God
I’m sure you’ll meet him
and have to answer,
along with those of kindred spirit,
to next of kin
of those who are now spirits
The lives you took

Can’t take any more
Everyday many more
My eyes can’t believe
the ugliness and cruelty they see
So I turn away
I do not look
Don’t want to know
because ignorance is truly bliss
But is it?

Is it bliss for those
who’ll be sacrificed
so some nut job just might
go to an afterlife
with many wives
Are you kidding me?!

Take a hike
go fly a kite
because that’s about where
your ideas and ideals
(to use the term loosely)
come from

I’m in a fit
just thinking of it
This poem is long, I know
but I can not fit onto this page
the total rage
I hold in me for those
who can’t uphold
the simplest of human values
which is the value of human life

Where does one go wrong
in the head
to not see the wrong
no, instead
thinking okay
to take away
the precious breaths
we take each day??

Just go away
If you must ****
please start with yourself
Offer yourself up
to whatever it is that you are dreaming about
But leave others to be as they be
for they do not believe
what you believe

And don’t tell me that it’s not okay
to not think the way
that you think
Why, what’s the harm?
If you hold strength in your values
and beliefs
That whatever you’re chasing
is unwavering
Then how can I,
little ol’ me,
just standing here being me
How is that somehow an attack
on what you believe?

Just leave
You be you
and I’ll be me

It doesn’t matter what’s between
There’s no need to intervene
Shoo
Bye bye
Take a hike
*****

I promise not to judge you
even if my beliefs
are comparatively opposite
how it is the things you see

There's only one rule
You fool
As foolish as you are
Yes, a wound that heals
still leaves a scar
But you can't fool me
Nor will I be
Numb to the severity
Of the sickness that you teach

And sickness is the word
To describe the absurd
Of the nonsense that you heard
and accepted as true
because you have no values
Well, maybe to you
You feel you do
But these directives you choose
Need to simmer your stew
They're old; nothing new
Heard it before
On humanity, a sore
Faulty programming taught
For it can not be bought
Don't sell at the store
Not interesting; it's a bore

Young children know well
Yes we guide but don't sell
In each of us it's innate
Most choose love over hate
As a spectator you'd find
The majority of time
Even if no one is watching
People's actions are kind
Without being beaten
Because people want to be treated
With dignity and respect
What you give is what you'll get

So don't act like you've been chosen
That ******* you're holding
Its noxious scent fills the air
Through my nostrils it tears
But a fresh breeze
has rolled in
Brings with it the Golden
Rule; the same one
The simplest of tools
One of the first things
Taught to us in grade school
A basic design
Yet also eloquent
I think for most people
it's something inherent
The way that you wish
How others would treat you
Apply them to yourself
Make those actions what you do
And if all of us follow
Treating each other this way
The storm clouds would abate
Nothing left but brighter days
Written: February 22, 2018

All rights reserved
Get your finery on and let the games begin,
Does it look like you'd trust him?
Blackout suit, purple shirt,
Crimson tie, dangerous eyes.
Sly, slick, sardonic and wicked
wearing a gentlemanly disguise.

The dinner was alright
now get ready to fight.
White powder on the counter,
A dusted card and a rolled-up fiver.
Finish up your line
and get out there.

Codine chills, calm is instilled,
Colorful lights, relaxed thrills.

No chats so I'll settle for that.

A while later
and we're back in black. Hometown
beatdown.
Lets get completely smashed;
Go hard or go home.

Messy nights never get old,
River of glass across a broken road.
Tonic wine is best served cold, though
the medicinal properties remain unknown.
A bottle of B from Buckfast Abby, they always
blame it on the buckie, infernal commotion lotion with its cough-syrupy sweet nectar.

Just the end of another debutante night,
Staying classy while we drink and fight.
Making hedonistic debauchery stylish
'cause we're Irish.
somewhere between the fourth and fifth

load of laundry,

sometime after breakfast~lunch,
now served in the USA at home,
as an all day meal, per the edict of Mcdonalds,
start fixing dinner, take a break, walk to the mailbox,
retrieve the post and quick retreat back inside,
ah that Texas sun, bilingual chili hot,
toss the unopened on the prior weeks pile,
cause everyone loves company

the home-cold-brewed ice coffee needs a filling
for the fridge has decided not to help
by automatically refilling the pitcher

even if it could
I, busy folding,
needing two hands
and all my teeth
for folding my master’s rocket ship

sheets

my master observes with one of his alternating demeanors,
this one, super silent watching, announcing that  I need a nap:

“don't you always say, baby,
take a nap when you can, baby,
for when you need one, baby,
you probably won’t be able, my baby”


with selected-hand-led fingers,
he lays me down to sleep,
bids me to slow slide to dreamland, dinner will keep,
curling inside my frame, hands a-cupping my *******,  
telling me a drowsy tale, inherited from his mother’s womb
and his granddaddy’s tongue, mindful of his family’s history

there, is where, they find us,
dinner fixings burnt,
me and my five year old baby boy,
still sleeping fast, around 5pm, bodies enwrapped,
tied by blood and entwined in old nursery rhymes,
Texas tall tales of Pecos Bill,
me and my very own

nap-ster master

<•>

p.s.  and they call me by my other name to wake me, momma
will19008 Jun 16
my own simple art:
I, myself, destroying kisses,
conversation, *******, thoughts
and promises built to make history

fed on cold satisfaction
gorged and happy (oh, what *******!)
I, myself, do without relationships
and ache without these things
The gentle drawl of Guy Clark's voice
called me from my sleep,
saying that when his father died
he'd found no tear to weep.

It wasn't that his dad was mean,
nor that he didn't try,
Guy couldn't find a worthy tear--
he wasn't yet ready to cry.

The blade was broken off the knife
a half inch from the tip.
He could almost feel its  jagged edge,
recalling that camping trip

His dad had let him take the knife
to a Boy Scout Jamboree
it was there he broke the blade tip off
throwing at a tree

That knife had served at daddy's side
when he went off to war,
saving his life in combat.
Of that he'd say  no more.

His father never said a word--
put the broken knife away.
It rested in a dresser drawer
until his dying day.

It was only when Guy's hand had found
and closed around the handle
that he knew, amid the sudden tears
Dad had loved him more than Randall.
Inspired by Guy Clark's song, "The Randall knife," on You tube.
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
Dogtor of Psychiatry (That's Me. EMM. DEE.)
The accent's on the silent P
I read it in a book, you see,
the Holy DSM (now V).

But did I hear you say you're SANE?
Well, have you met your reptile brain?
Here... Plug this in…
Now bite down hard...
While I explain...

OOooohhhh! (Psych) Drugs that ****!
OOooohhhh! Lies & hate!
Electroshock! Lobotomate!
AAAaaaaahhh!

Hmmm, what to do? My day's half done...
Let's educate! With Ritalin!
Oh Glory Me! Not vita-mines!!
We can't have that you filthy swine.
Can't you just work on drooling fine?
Now, back to work... No time to waste...
My kickbacks must be earned posthaste!

OOooohhhh! (Psych) Drugs that ****!
OOooohhhh! Lies & hate!
Electroshock! Lobotomate!
AAAaaaaahhh!

Survivors? Schmeguyvors!
It’s time for lunch!  I'll have some brain!
Served with sides of *** and pain!
Again, again, again, AGAIN!!
You're drooling from your ears again...
I thought you said that you were sane.
Quick! Swallow this — I’ve kids to *****!
Did I say that? IT ISN'T TRUE!

(They must read minds — I’LL **** THEM TOO!)

OOooohhhh! (Psych) Drugs that ****!
OOooohhhh! Lies & hate!
Electroshock! Lobotomate!
AAAaaaaahhh!

I love to ****! O what a day!
In fact, I'm GOD, I'm proud to say.

I'm-hearing-what-you're-telling-me
Blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah...
You say some words?
Listen! They don't even rhyme!
So just make sure you're dead on time.
Take these... What? Did I say DEAD?
(That Prozac's gone straight to your head.)
Of course I did! Cuz DEATH’s such fun!
THE ONLY CURE FOR EVERYONE!

(insane laughter)
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
Still Crazy Jun 2014
the seagull diddled
when he perched on my dock,
though no invitation extended,
no offense was taken,
when in observation,
of the foolish humanish varietal,
did it opine

"dude,
u need to move more
and exercise those legs,
eat right,
many small meals,
like me,
write your-poetry
while in airborne motion."


all this was spoke
while he speared and swallowed
a little river perch,
in my face,
flying off contentedly,
just to drive his point home -
directly into my gut

so should the next
pedestrian creation,
be typo'd plenty,
though,
I can walk and talk,
even chew gum simultaneously,
advice from seagulls,
who defecate on my dock,
should be taken as well,
in small sized portion control

poetry is best served,
proudly prone-ly
though I did thank him kindly,
and went back to bed...
Tanya Feb 7


You should have known you were wrong
when you pulled me so close to you
that I could suffocate in the tobacco cloud
exiting your whiskey-drunk mouth,
when you demanded my pureness served to you ,
as if my body was a restaurant
and my genitals-
a table for you to book.


ghost queen Mar 16
i am tired of fighting, i am too old, i’ve seen too much

i am throwing down my weapon, i surrender, **** me if you must have blood

i don’t care anymore, i don’t remember what i am fighting for, i just want to go home.

put this war behind me, live to love, not to ****, not to die, for what purpose, for what god.

who will commemorate our battles, and those who have died just yesterday

who will remember our names, aspiration, dreams once we are dead

we are disposable, born to ****, then die, who cares, why care, we served your purpose

we are the pawns, expected to die for the greater good that we can not have

look at your lives, was it worth it, how do you honor Them, those who died, so you can live
Genevieve Feb 2018
please do not serve me **** pie on a silver platter!
oh, your unfamiliar with this type of pie?!! it is the kind
that is hot & fresh with buried lies and deceits colored scented to seem sweet.

Please, I do ask that you not serve this dish to me!
I see through and know there are many many layers
covering the other so I tell you do not serve to me
             **** pie on a silver platter!!          
Just be straightforward
then we are good and clear as long as you are a truth
teller you will have nothing to bury or hide baked
        into quadruple **** layered sphincter pie so keep it straight
        and girls won't hate but we will test and figure things,
        So go with caution just as long as
we don't sniff a whiff
       being served to us by you via silver splat
oh oops, that was your face oh-oh.
SorryNotSorry bout that!
Often the circles have been created by you
it just takes acknowledging their attitude
had been placed there by actions
or lies you choose to color and justify
karin naude Jun 2013
found you hiding in the bathroom stall
devastated tears just running
i pity you, will never show it
your insanity to much to stomach
grovelling for grown boys attention
they broke their toys as children
now they brake fleshy hearts served with drama directed by cowardly ego
you eagerly walked the line
very well knowing fairytales do not exist
fairytales do not exist
the prince more dangerous than the dragon
the dragon protects against the world
in return you turn on the scaly animal who love you so
who love you so, it pledged forever by your side
protecting, loving and caring for you
but you wanted smooth skin wrapped in wit and charm
iamtheavatar Mar 2017
Wake up sleeper!
Your summer days are over.
Tidy up and prepare for winter,
lest you be caught off guard.

For we have a steeple with lots of faces,
and symbols and catchphrases,
and pulpits and pews

—but never a
Duluoz and Kerouac.

And do not mistake
silence for absence.
And patience for
impotence.

For just as the sun rises
from the east.
So shall justice be served
for the least.

So then, let us say:

May our days be numbered,
and our troubles few.
And may this sweet surrender
bring us life anew.

**iamthe_avatar ©2017
A poem for love.
The past is a flash,
The present is eternity.
I've been waging a war
on temporality.

Come, save me
from the thoughts that eat me.
That's all we are, after all,
Thoughts and a body.

Eight-day weeks aren't bleak
when there's another day to party.
Got nothing better to do with our time
than cook up the cure to lethargy.
It can't hurt to be well-versed
in the dark-arts of alchemy.
Black magic best-served
with a pinch of anarchy.

A flash of eternity disrupted temporality.
Do you know me? Essentially.

Ecstatic eyes dived into the foray,
They finally realized
today is tomorrow's yesterday.

The past is a flash,
The present is eternity.
Take some time to come get lost with me.
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