"shitload" poems
I want to live for today
But keeping grades gets in the way
I want to be wild
But to get a job I have to be mild
They say "be yourself"
And throw themselves at your mental health
Welcome to high school
Welcome to high school
It's not exactly musical
Welcome to high school
Isn't it wonderful?
Forget what you know
I'm just here to show
You your classes in a place
You thought would be cool
You're underslept
You're somewhat upset
Mood swings, hormones
Family issues
A shitload of schoolwork
Mix them together in a class
And you'll pray that college will come fast
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 9:48 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
A blue guitar, twelve pieces of silver-
ware, some feldspar, an essay on The Art
of War, two pine bookshelves, fifty-four books
about the past, a stone axe that must have
belonged to the last of the Mohicans, fifty more
books about bones, stones and famous pomes,
a sliver of glass from a mirror that shattered
the last six years like they didn't matter
plus one to go, a shitload of old liquor bottles,
a fossil of an inner earbone from a killer whale,
a spear-point older than 12,000 years+plus,
a tooth from a shark as big as a ****** bus,
dust marks from missing pictures of us.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 4:21 PM UTC
I guess I'm too ******* up for you.
I'm not 'normal' enough.
I'd be the first to admit I have a shitload of problems.
I don't feel like I can trust anyone.
I'm not good enough for crap.
I'm way to nice to people who don't deserve it.
I'm tired of being walked on.
I'm tired of apologizing.
Sometimes I wonder why I'm here.
I'd hate to bother you.
I'm always here for you, but where are you when I need you?
I should stop expecting you to show up.
You don't care.
But did you ever?
I'm' tired of pretending everything is fine.
Cause it's not.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
I guess I'm too ******* up for you.
I'm not 'normal' enough.
I'd be the first to admit I have a shitload of problems.
I don't feel like I can trust anyone.
I'm not good enough for crap.
I'm way to nice to people who don't deserve it.
I'm tired of being walked on.
I'm tired of apologizing.
Sometimes I wonder why I'm here.
I'd hate to bother you.
I'm always here for you, but where are you when I need you?
I should stop expecting you to show up.
You don't care.
But did you ever?
I'm' tired of pretending everything is fine.
Cause it's not.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
All around me I'm seen as a freak show scene
No one else is strange in my range
I need to know meaning of why I'm being
Even before I had peach fuzz I was weird just cause
Had a shitload problems as a kid, I always did
School was **** on a stick, taking heat from all the clicks
I'd be fine if the world was just mine
Feeling more lonely in a crowded place than outer space
Satan must have spawned me cause God doesn't want me
Take me as a son or be done
Never knew all along where the **** I belong
Who's to be a real family to me?
I don't want a friend unless your down till the end
**** outa here if your fake, get burned at the stake
You fail to know what you show
I won't show any affection for this perfection
Catch a whiff of my gust, shrivel back in disgust
But I laugh at your hate, I'm the real shark bait
I'm proud to be unique, there's things I have that you seek
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 10:54 AM UTC
The system is flawed
Suicidal kids together
Make up our population
Too early to be awake
Minds are blank, eyes wander
Just a shitload of ***** teens
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
I’m that guyWho’s a sour noteThat sinks deep belowSuch ascending cadences. I’m that guyWho is a shitload of fuckThat shares a planet withFuckloads of shitI’m that guyWhose blindness cannot be curedWith mud slinged in eyesAlready tinted with brownI’m that guyWho facepalms wheneverGod’s precious little angelShares herself with thatintention.I’m that guyWhose insomnia is legendaryFor believing that the moonWill swallow us allI’m that guyWho crouches down betweenDissident friends partingEvery which wayI’m that guy Who plucks petals off flowersFor incense, ‘cause they smellbetterEngulfed in fiery passionI’m that guyWho strides in the snowUnscathed because no frostIs colder than regretI’m that guyWho hates the newsBecause killing, destroying,raping and stealingIsn’t exactly new.And when time itselfTransfixes its body Away from our existence;That’s when I’ll slump overAnd shut my eyes, just becauseI’m that guy. -Juan Carlos Gomez
Feb 28, 2010
Feb 28, 2010 at 7:58 PM UTC
I swear to ******* God,
you eat my Oatmeal one more time
without asking,
and I'm going to cut your arm off.
Every morning I wake up
at 6:30. Ann wakes up
at 7:00 for work.
So I take her Oatmeal out of the cabinet
and pour a shitload in a bowl.
More than I will ever need,
just to **** her off.
And she wakes up at seven
and I'm just smiling there,
wolfing down her oatmeal;
anything to get a win in the morning.
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
Day after day
I was learning
that the yearning
and pain would never go away
That I was a bent rod
a traveler so long
lost along a road
so wrong...
I was seeing clearer
the shattered lad in my mirror
manacled in horror
of echos of the past
reverberating through the threads
of time,
a man cursed
to forever shiver in cold of desolation
and to always seek consolation
in the glamour of rhyme
yet never mind
that he'd never find...
Day after day
I was learning
that the clouds of strife
in my life
would always be the blanket
that stops my Sun from shining
and that my trumpet
was bound to rust
as no one would bear
their lips on dust...
none would love me enough to dare.
as I were a flower in the wild
growing on shitload piled...
a heart punched and filed
a destiny's child
a million pieces compiled
on a future defiled.
I was a forgotten dream
a dried up stream-
cracks instead of Adam's ale
a snail without a shell
corpse pale...
I was my own hell,
strange
they said things would change,
that time would tell...
yet there was nothing left
to be told of my story
though I wasn't one to feel sorry
as I'd been through more ****
than I could spit.
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 1:26 AM UTC
I should probably go to sleep. My best friend is sleeping and my eyes are closing but there is so much to write about you. We spoke for an hour today over the phone and let me tell you just how much I've missed your voice (a shitload) and perhaps we are going to prom together and perhaps I really haven't gotten over everything yet and perhaps it was all too wonderful to forget I hope I make a wonderful date so you do not forget. I also hope that perhaps I look beautiful in a taylor made dress I chose the color thinking about you, and I hope the corsage is also beautiful, but not as beautiful as the way your arms will hold me as we walk in the big palace (or house) will hold the party. Now I'm listening to a song that brings back so many memories, not of you, but of someone that hurt me so much and I am getting a bit emotional, you changed the broken part of me with your super glue and made me become a shield, which I think nobody really gets to do. My super glued heart thanks you, and my scarred wrists too.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 3:25 AM UTC
Into the abyss
Are hopes and dreams
Shattered, wasted and confused
Caught in a net are my messes
Filled with self-pity, battered and bewildered
Constantly falling into nothingness
Falling steadily into the abyss
I close my eyes
Dismayed and betrayed, I prayed
And heard a voice say
Do you know your worth?
I understand you are hurt
And you have made mistakes
You made poor choices
And caught tough breaks
But if you believe in me and have faith
The size of a mustard seed
I guarantee you will succeed
You were created for more than what you choose
I was beat and bruised for iniquities
The blood still saves if you stick with me
Your latter shall be greater…2012
So I pulled myself together
And planted my feet
Straightened my shoulders
And begin to release
All the pain and the strain of previous years
All the anxiety, heartache and shitload of tears
No longer moved by chatter
And no longer hexed
No longer does it matter
Soul no longer vexed
In fact I am blessed beyond measure
Climbed out of the abyss to find life’s treasures2014
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
come for the poetry,
stay for the likes
I keep hitting refresh,
because something's not right
I see quotes and platitudes
on the front page
with a shitload of likes
and it fills me with rage
I can count all the likes
my work gets on one hand
and it took me an hour,
I don't understand
while some wipe their *****
some streaks on a page
and that **** starts to trend
becomes all of the rage
come for the poetry,
stay for the likes
I'm seriously thinking
of going on strike
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 8:57 PM UTC
i am sitting hot
gladly sweating i see
a centillion
of shimmering
dash off the bodies
of cars marching distantly further i am
(hear) the muzzled snort of
some angry guys
who are wont to go but i am
smelling the disgruntled curiosity
of heads
out
their windows downup looking at i
taste the blush of blundering eve vastly
squatting slowly
its haunches on the hunched roar of a
"shitload" of yelping aluminum throats (iam)
tasting the shavings of eyes
that peer looking up the long line laying
shimmering with a centillianth
of summer
they gawk hard up the
road to where there is neat lights blinking lights (neatly
up the road there is the hot blab of summer and the ***** of a
suicide
)
Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 9:04 PM UTC
I want to explain the ****** up ****
That runs through my mind
No, I need to
Because I feel like I"m trapped in a monotonous circle of
"I need you"
I've got a shitload of scattered thoughts to **** through
My brain is a minefield
And lies are the only things I know to be true
Days get blurred by copious drug abuse
Amphetamines scream ***** I know you!
And you need me! You know it's true!"
The night seems endless because the days burn cold
I'm digging six feet under to make my home that hole
My body may look young but my spirit has grown old
Hesitating to be bold
This **** has gotten old
My insides are rotten...yes, I'm filled with mold
And I'd give away my soul
But I'd be lying if I said it hasn't already been sold
They can't stop puffing ******
Even though the prices get steeper
I'd leave if he hadn't said that I am a keeper
But, babe, I'm a ********* liar
I wish I could ignore you but you're my heart's sole desire
So, sadly, I'm wired
Sobriety expired
Remember, babe, I'm a ******* liar
So, I'll make false promises like liars do
And please believe me when I say it's true
Because, **** I need you to
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 3:03 AM UTC
I was a sixty gunner once.
Don't blame me.
It wasn't really my choice,
I had more muscle,
carried twenty-five pounds
(or more)
of belted ammo.
I loved tracer rounds
the best,
they would
light up the night
& you could stay on target
much easier,
especially during
those early-morning
L-shaped ambushes.
You had to
expend rounds quick
because it would not take long
until you became
the next target
during the attacks.
But I was lucky.
I made it back intact,
I survived
a shitload
of missions.
The number is still classified,
I think.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
As I lay here in bed,
I wish for many things.
But one major.
Is to not give a ****
I try my best to be nonchalant
but deep down, I'm as sensitive as a pregnant woman about her weight.
Giving a **** takes too much energy.
Energy I could be using for something else,
like sleeping, or eating or sleeping.
Feelings get hurt and emotions get mixed
and by the end of the night,
I'm just a pile of ****
Because I care too much.
Not showing it is easy.
I laugh it off and continue my business.
But inside,
I'm a bawling mess.
**** me and my emotions.
Sorry for the inappropriate language,
but there's going to be those moments where those words fall out of your mouth faster than snapping your fingers.
Giving a **** is a curse.
Giving a **** is the worst.
I just wish, that i can give that crown to someone else.
Let them give a ****
****
****
****
... **** I've said **** a shitload of times... Ha... well...
I'll learn to not care.
Practice makes perfect?
**** I don't even believe in that.
I need a smoke.
Maybe 2 smokes...
or 3...
You judging?
Well HA! I don't give a SH*T
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
I remember I was at a friend’s party, drinking & smoking ****
It was also the first time I used speed
I decided to go home, I knew I shouldn’t drive
But I did, it was a lovely evening around five
I know I shouldn’t go over the speed limit, but I wanted to go home quickly
Because I started feeling rather sickly
I became distracted when I got a message on my phone
It was a second, & then all of a sudden, I hit something that felt like a large stone
I looked back in the mirror & there was a blooded body on the road
I raced off because I knew I would be in trouble, a shitload
I get home turn on the news, nothing, maybe it was the speed, it was an hallucination
And maybe my soul won’t be cast down to damnation
The next day my nightmare began
The **** has hit the fan
They are saying it was a hit & run
A mother & Father cry for their dead son
I have never been so confused, so scared in all my life
It’s like I'm balancing on the tip of a knife
Dear Lord, what have I done?!
I get on my knees & pray
The guilt starts to eat away
He had a name, Michael, i know for my sins I must pay
As the remorse has me enslaved
So with all the money I saved
And with a note sent to Michaels parents admitting my sin
I put the tight noose around my neck; it feels itchy against my skin
Can I really go through with this?
Just one kick & ill go into the eternal abyss
I have to do it, I may be young, but I know you can't live with so much guilt
It eats away & you begin to slowly wilt
After a few deep breaths, I kick the chair
Its not like in the movies, was my thought as I struggled midair
My eyes blur & everything is starting to fade
I then turned my mind on all of the misdeeds I've made
Thoughts & memories of my family as I succumb into the nothingness
My soul starts to depart as I slowly lose consciousness
I start to feel good; I begin to relax & no longer afraid
I know the dept can never be repaid
Now that I'm decease
I hope the guy’s parents find some peace.
Apr 5, 2025
Apr 5, 2025 at 4:51 AM UTC
i could almost swear i was loosing
sorry... losing my mind
over this, well, phenomenon -
and it only exists in english -
the remnants of latin -
and the lack of germanic "barbarism",
i thought i turning dyslexic
for a while...
but as it turns out,
cemetary - isn't akin to cemetery -
teerful, tarry - tomato in english
and ta-may-tah in american english...
the **** is australian english?
to-mah-toh in english -
**** me, american linguistic encoding
is so much simpler...
and faster done -
but now i know why i transliterate
certain letters in certain words...
transliterate, right? i'm being spot on
with regards to a proper descriptive noun?
latin?
oh sure, i blame the existence of
graphemes (siamese diacritical
quadruplets), æ & œ -
let call the former pair adam & eve,
and the latter oedipus & epicaste,
we ******* need the german ß at some point,
i'm not saying all the time...
but come on, poetizing? looks ugly
even if you don't have the zing,
but the sing in the spelling...
poetißing... ah, that's better (not really);
but at least i know
why i sometimes make spelling
mistakes... the remnant of the latin art
of writing graphemes,
a bit like uv (not ultra-violet)
as in: when asking to chisel a word
into stone, where v actually implied u...
so why did the "lazy" ******* not
bother trimming the other curves in other
letters?
you'd probably see runes...
e.g. when R became ᚱ,
and B became ᛒ...
and S became ᛋ...
that's what i'm saying, they were "lazy"...
and a shitload of cow... ****
poured over poor U.
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 6:42 PM UTC