"shitter" poems
it's the management
here to inform you
your lust has been hacked
we know what your thinking
what you hide
we are all up in your business
like cyber terrorist's
don't ruin your life with to much self respect
we are all watching you **********
to mamma mia meets a hundred shades of crimson
and fight club blood ****
while you ***
screaming
ooooooooh god
licking
holes and poles
like a pig at a trough
praying to be handcuffed and on your knees
sweating and hysterical, a red moon struck **** face
high on drugs
in a dream better then this life has to offer
life is full of yogas
***** pony position
bouncy bouncy
i'm the light in your darkness
i know what you do
i want pieces of you, you wont show anyone else
your sickness, is my own
you are my love slave
turning me *********
who loves to hurt you
who's the *****
who's the switch
your flawless
now
cry me a river
move a little bit faster and to the left
your **** is a cartoon
**** grinning emoji
bleeding shrieking
fu fu fu fu *******
your brains running out of your eyes
gimmie all your venom
***** movie poem's
*** tongue and *****
your mouth like hemoglobin jewelry
saliva diamonds
kiss that
you'll never go back
squealing smooth heat
breathing winds of perfume
love and pain
united by
tragedy and desire
by
the grotesque and the beautiful
like thirst holds stones
stop crying
you know baby
you look your best on the toilet bowl
shameless
a delicious little *******
that holds me close to life
like a baby to the womb
please
stop banging on the door
i'm using this stall
Thank you
The Management
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
Blood, gore
*** *****
High, drugs
Thief, mugs
Anger, harm
Cut, arm
**** *******
Looser, *******
***** ****
Slutty, shunned
****** ugly
Smart, nerdy
Stupid, dumb
Perfect, come
Gay, handy
Ignorant, trani
Black, ******
White, *******
Lost, dog
Fat, hog
Illegal, immigrant
Immoral, rent
Discriminate
Hate
Procrastinate
Fake
We all give labels to everyone
All of us, let's have some fun
Let's go out and **** someone
Who hurts you, don't let them run
Make all pay for labels begun.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
We need more pirates
A few Robin hoods
Not forgetting Ghandis
And others who give a F###
The worlds in the *******
Religions half to blame
The rest is down to the ruling class
1700s again.
ATOS are the healers, Lib Dems are all confused.
UKIP are crazy and Labour's coloured blue!
So let's have some pirates some men stuffed full of ***
Do a Guy Faulks and this time
BLOW THEM UP!!!
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
Whilst walking down the street
I heard a thunderous tweet;
'Twas a straining little bird
Who couldn't pass a ****
The little thing was constipated,
Its **** wide dilated;
Tweeting loudly in mid-bog,
Trying to eject a log.
I observed with sympathetic heart
As it trumpeted out a ****
Straining, chirping loud and long,
Letting off a foul and noisome pong.
I watched for nigh an hour
Its display of **** power;
Then a final intestinal pump
Produced a huge great steaming lump:
A mighty ball of faeces
(a giant of its species,
and total bumhole splitter
which shattered its feathered *******
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
If laughter is the best medicine
then this explains why there are so many unhealthy people.
Too many people got the SAD's Condition;
**It arrives usually within 2-4 weeks of compromising one's inner child after crushing up
some sparkly dreams and flushing them in the *******
Symptoms include:
*1) A black-hole bitter disposition
2) Snapping at little things like having to wait 5 in a checkout line
or making dramatic sighs after repeating a question a few times.
3) Reminiscing about terrible things and never forgiving and
letting go, like having your mom sign your life away to a cult or
being told that your dear sweet Aunt who helped raise you kept
looking for you in the hospital every time your name was called
even though you never saw her because your family thought it
best you kept your distance or hearing the morose silence of a
stillborn newborn.
4) Finding your serenity at the bottom of a bar room floor inside a
gin bottle.
5) Finding your solace in a married woman who eats all kinds
of colorful shaped pills for breakfast.*
And if a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down,
how much can you add before the medicine loses its flavor?
They say truth is bitter,
yet I find that hard to believe
considering it feels so good to say.
It's like a cinnamon peppermint flavor on the tongue
with an aftertaste of jalapeno tears.
Maybe I'm so used to the processed hydrogenated extra sugar kind
that's why I go right for the pure hard stuff,
and maybe that's why a laugh so much.
Maybe that's why people consider me a cuckoo fool....
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
He sweats when he poops,
Not just any old ****
A **** of glory,
A **** of a lifetime.
The kind of **** that jacks your heart rate,
The kind of **** that makes you breathe heavy,
A **** so intense that your bowels moan,
And generate a need to remove your shirt.
The cold, yet intense sweats of this ****
Cramps in the lower abdomen, sharp and warm,
The sweet relief of tension, when that one big log comes out,
All hot and steamy.
Followed by a stream of liquidy brown,
He wonders how his body even operates,
The unholiness of what exits through,
That holiest of holes, next to the birth stump and boulders.
Pondering the consumption of two nights before,
He sits bare-assed on this porcelain mouth,
Ingesting every bit of solids, liquids and gasses,
That exit from his **** canal.
Clothes tossed onto the floor,
His ******* harden from the unpleasant draft,
Caused by the perspired glands,
That shiver from trauma and nightly air.
Nov 25, 2023
Nov 25, 2023 at 6:52 PM UTC
I don't believe that love exists.
I don't believe in a true love's kiss.
Children may believe in fairy tales,
But reality isn't fuzzy feelings and cotton tails.
I am not depressed, and I am not bitter.
I have just learned that life is in the *******
Sorry if my poem makes you sad,
But happiness is not something to be had.
I hope one day you prove me wrong,
And maybe my change of heart will be made into a song.
But for now I do not have any great expectations.
Instead I try to stay away from great temptations.
The temptations that make me want to believe
That love is real and I am not naive.
But for now I must lock away my heart and throw away the key
And also the hope that Prince Charming is out there looking for me.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 1:18 AM UTC
We need more pirates
A few Robin hoods
Not forgetting Ghandis
And others who give a F###
The worlds in the *******
Religions half to blame
The rest is down to the ruling class
1700s again.
ATOS are the healers, Lib Dems are all confused.
UKIP are crazy and Labour's coloured blue!
So let's have some pirates some men stuffed full of ***
Do a Guy Faulks and this time
BLOW THEM UP!!!
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
Strumming like a metronome
the feeling sinks like yesterday -
or Tuesday
maybe even Sunday.
It's all the same.
The days end in Y
and God still sits on the *******
reading Newsweek.
If he runs out of paper,
I pity the Watchtower.
It might come out with
post traumatic stress disorder.
Self awareness is the currency here
but all the mirrors are smashed,
or covered in grime.
The question remains;
When you're not sophisticated enough for here
and too sophisticated for there,
Where do you go?
I love the security
of the way we drink tonight.
I love the ambiguity
of the way we say hello
and the manner in which your taste
like the first drop of wine
sets my standard on broken edge
and my teeth are praying.
The roses in your eyes
the truth in your lies
come from the same place.
Lets just hope you know this
the way I do.
I wonder where the local rock stars
get their rhythm,
if they didnt pay for it
they surely stole it
from Bob, Simon and the rest.
Never trust a man who doesnt drink,
when he ***** a guitar into song.
You can hear it moan and crackle
as its heart seems to crumble
there in his sober hands.
If only I knew what he meant
by this adultery
he might make a dollar out of me.
But since he coats himself in mystery
a poor man pays not a cent
for a taste of his $2 life.
The Big Bopper got *****
by the ghost of Heath Ledger.
Somehow I think it made him smile.
I'm Not surprised;
all shock has worn off in subtlety.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
Good taste is very difficult to define:
Some people like to kiss pigs' bottoms
And some people like to eat snails
And some snail-eaters prefer their snails dead.
But my definition of good taste is this:
If a man takes a woman to his bed
Only to discover she is a hunchback,
He abstains from playing Alsatians.
For the uninformed, "playing Alsatians"
(or German Shepherd Dogs if you prefer)
Refers to ********** ***********
A popular and sophisticated modus copulandi
Favoured by people of upmarket ****** tastes,
Only bettered by doing it "up the *******
As we scholars and learned academics
Tend to express it at moments of stress,
Especially when in full diarrhoeic flow.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
I used to date a guy
Who ****** a lot of people out of a lot of things,
Who pretended to be an alcoholic
Just because he was lonely
And the AA people
Had voices that spoke to him,
Voices that weren't in his head.
In Alcoholics Anonymous,
They have a saying that
"Fear" only stands for
**** Everything And Run."
This is a saying
I wish that I knew
When all those tacky neckties were holding me back.
So it's needless to say
That I didn't have the wise words
Of AA on my mind
As I studied the Big Book on my own.
Instead I marched into his mind
And flushed his month's "sobriety" token
Down his mental *******
Because sobriety doesn't mean
Stealing a bottle of wine from Jewel
And finishing it off yourself.
And I was used to getting lied to,
But I felt bad for those poor AA guys,
Listening to his ramblings on a girl
Who loved him
And wanted him to change
When in reality
She just wanted the lies to stop.
They should have given that sobriety token
To a man who earned it.
Give your tokens
To those who deserve them.
Do not put your pennies in a piggy bank
That only siphons down a gutter
In the end.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
here i sit,
im at loss,
hiding in the *******
cause im the boss.
the irs is coming and want thier money,
but i bought hookers and *****
isnt that funny?
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 7:54 AM UTC
He creates alternative facts
for no good reason
just to be an ***
what the hell for
don't ask me
he thinks someone is listening
to everything he has to say
all the lies he tells
taking pictures of himself
through the microwave
lying through his teeth
about his taxes
throwing mirrors at stones
shattering the truth
roaming his labyrinth
fiddling with his ******
while Rome burns
with little hands all a twitter
making up political speeches
while sitting on the *******
and spitting on the floor
writing surrealist poetry
on the walls and calling
them executive orders.
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 9:45 PM UTC
He turned around to look at her--face to face.
"Excuse me?" he asked. He has heard what she said, but the question was only to confirm that his brain had processed that which his ears had just heard.
"You know what I said." she shot back quickly.
"Nono--tell me again what you..just..said," his voice got lower and his steps quickened with each word. Now they were nose to nose, eye to eye, face to face. She swallowed deeply and confidently said,
"Go. **** Yourself."
His right hand quickly recoiled back to back-hand-slap her across her beautiful face, but he was quickly foiled by a knee to his groin.
"Aaawwwooohhfuck!" he howled.
He fell to his knees in agony. The kind of agony where it feels like your stomach is doing somersaults and pirouettes. This gave her the perfect opportunity to finish what she had started. She raised her right hand to strike him. As her hand got higher, her brow became more furrowed. Her hand became a balled-up fist, then quickly struck down on his left temple. His eyes rolled back in his head as his body became limp and collapsed fully to the dirt. She seized the opportunity to kick him violently in his face and upper body with no resistance from him. By the time she had finished her onslaught of kicks, his face looked mangled and bruised. He was bleeding from every orifice on his face.
She knew what she had done, and she knew the authorities would be there soon. She surveyed the fields. The wheat was swaying calmly in the wind, and the smell of juniper was being carried from the evergreen forest just south of Old Man Morrison's property.
She looked down at him, almost exactly the same way that she had seen him look at her so many times before.
With a scowl, she hocked up a disgustingly large *** of spit and shot it directly on to his bloodied face.
As the sounds of sirens came audible in the distance, she turned to walk the opposite way from where he laid.
"I said...Burger King is way tastier than ******* McDonalds."
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
T’was the night before Christmas
And in his outhouse
Sat Ja quietly listening
To waltz’s, by Strauss.
(Really, he was leafing thru Penthouse)
The ******* was fitted
With all manner of lights
That couldn’t be missed
No matter what heights
When up on the roof
There arose such a clatter
Ja, kicked open the door
To see what was the matter
So there sat Ja
With his pants pulled down
His *** in a hole
On his forehead, a frown
He leaped up so quickly
Through the doorway to pass
Tripped over his pants
And fell on his ***
Then flat on his back
His bare *** in the snow
He looked up to see
The roof all aglow
Poor Santa had landed
On that, small, sloped roof
But there wasn’t enough room
For sleigh, and each tiny hoof
Ja had decorated everything
So the outhouse, shone bright
And Santa mistook it
When he arrived that night
The reindeer slid off
Were hanging by their straps
And Santa had saved them
By grabbing, the roof *****
Poor Rudolph fell the farthest
Boy, was his nose beaming
Just then, losing his grip
Santa started screaming
Fly Dancer, fly *****
Fly Donner, fly Blitzen
Don’t let me fall into
This **** Ja was fixin
Then just like magic
They started to float
And Santa, raising his fist
Did this warning shout
Be very careful old man
I’ll get you some day
Stay alert Christmas Eve
Don’t get in my way
Now, each Christmas Eve
Ja, won’t step foot out that door
Cause he knows Santa is waiting
To even the score
BOEMS BY JA 18
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
The boy stood on the burning deck,
His ******** to the mast,
A very wise precaution
When Oscar Wilde went past.
But Oscar was a wily chap
And threw the lad a fritter;
And when he stooped to pick it up
Oscar ****** him up the *******
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
Like common said back in the day I used to love Her, all of her from her head to her feet she meant nothing less than the world to me. But sadly it was never meant to be between you and me distance can sever heartstrings. It was distance and jealousy and past pain that corrupted her and killed it. ****
Let me go back to where it all started, we met through Facebook, the venting place of the brokenhearted, it started strong we hit it off fast and our feelings for each other grew as strong as the grass. We talked everyday consistently, my heart was there with her because she was so far away from me.
But what was once sweet turned bitter as our love crawled down the ******* I tried my best to keep it going but from my eyes tears started flowing.
But honestly that taught me several valuable lessons, for one thing jealousy should be the last and deadliest sin. But if there's one piece of advice I can give,
To everybody out there, learn to forgive.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 1:38 AM UTC
Sometimes when I'm faced
With a decision I freeze, great..
My Lifes taken to sticks it, and sit it,
At a fork In the road, to wait
For my choice, where's fate?
....cuz so far my choices to date
Is why I'm writing this, fighting it,
Knowing in my past I've made
Decisions causing collisions
Man made damnation,damaging
The way only a master of disaster
Can... With a strategy of calamity
A catastrophe, to make an *** of me
Like I compete VS. tragedy
To see who can cause more horror,. &destruction; but no match for me
Is he, as my demolition savagery
Similar to whenever havocs seen
And as it happens. I'm always like
"Yo..What the F$&@ is happening??!"
Clueless like Alicia silverstone
In the library with a wrench
As Cornel mustard calls her *****
And this is where ration ends
And wanders like it saunters off
topic hoping itll delay or help
Fantasies of **** woman come out
Now I'm a Plummer...hired to help
... But eventually, I'm back held
Forced to be an adult, oh why ..
..forced to pick a road or grow old
And hold stagnant, until I die
Which don't sound so bad, but a dad
Always has to consider
And factor in. to weigh the variable,
In the form of his lil diaper *******
Who really could use a baby sitter
Who is sexy,so a ....baby sister
Can be made, but ...focus dont stray
This is no time to joke or play
Eeny-meeny miney moe
Catch a politician by its toe
So you can ask advice, then told:
"It's a gd time to relapse on blow"
Which is only said cuz my head
Controls the imagined figment
Which says nothing except that,my
Heads not where sane thoughts visit
So as I stare at the two paths
I feel debilitated and instead
Of perpetual fear, the thoughts fed
Says no matter which way I head
Ill be left to wonder where I'm lead
If I chose the path, which I did not
When I decide and divide I try the path I now continue so do not
think too much. and yet still
Frozen and paralyzed at a halt
I stand a man, full of fear, a vault
holding a scared boy full of fault
But Self doubt amplifies as adults
At least for me, so immobile I'm left
Confused by why I'm still undecided
But already feel my choices regret ...
..... I hope I don't fork myself .....
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
In view of others,
I am of little consequence.
It is as though I am
a dandelion seed,
left to the whim of a storm,
or a bleeding lamb
encircled by a pack of
prowling wolves.
I can be torn apart easily,
flesh from bone,
soul from body,
for practically free.
The smallest cuts would easily
bleed me for all I have.
My heart is crushed by the simplest things,
just as I can be crushed
by the simplest of men!
One word, that is all I need,
for a sleepless night.
My imagination is wild,
and needlessly cruel.
In my own head,
I've imagined different ways that
I will be humiliated, hurt and killed!
At night, my insecurities run amok
and race through my head
with an incessant screeching,
carving into the inside of my skull
new ideas, new doubts about myself
which, by daybreak,
I learn are actually true!
Ha, it's ******* pathetic!
They are wolves!
And I am to be slaughtered!
Almost as if it's for show.
It happens daily.
I wonder at this point
is there any limit to my embarrassment?
Won't someone deliver me from my own shortcomings
and faults?
I wait, but all that come are
wolves,
tearing away at me, once again,
for another night!
Oh, how I tire of it!
I know I am inadequate,
of little physical worth,
but must they be so brazen about it?
I wish to be alone sometimes,
but I am equally terrible company.
The sobbing,
the rambling,
I am a boring person
who has earned his ridicule!
Sometimes, in retaliation,
I try to cast away the ghosts
by writing poetry.
But even I struggle to say it is worth reading!
A disgrace to the art, if I do say so myself.
But don't get me wrong,
it is not nothing to be called a disgrace,
even terribleness must have its maestros.
Perhaps, I am one!
I have found my place then!
In the *******
Ha. Ha. Ha.
The longevity of my existence
is seemingly at the mercy of others.
How little would it take it to
forget someone like me?
If it is wished,
I can be snuffed out,
put out
like embers
and turned into ash,
it would be so easy,
they could do it
without even knowing.
Who will remember me then?
And what will they remember?
Someone who could be stamped into the dirt
and disintegrate, like crumbs of refuse.
Perhaps it would be more merciful
to forget me than
to be remembered as that!
When my feelings are hurt, I always retreat.
And where do I retreat?
Of course, it is here,
into poetry,
where I can trade shame
for mediocrity,
where I can pretend that
I am above it all
because I write a little bit
of **** prose,
some garbage that equates to
nothing more than
whimpering.
You sometimes have to laugh at yourself.
But one day,
I will be better.
The wolves will still
feed upon me.
But I will be better.
May 24, 2021
May 24, 2021 at 8:14 PM UTC
i just had a fit of rage.
i have to work with a bull *******
i have to make a presentation.
i broke my phone.
****
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
Son of a ***** there’s twenty dollars down the *******
Five cartomizers for this electric cigarette
Why am I even smoking?
I quit five years ago, so why even put this in my body?
Where is the logic in that?
Because I like what it does to me
I like the relaxing hush it puts over me
But god **** it!
These five little cartomizers full of nicotine ain’t compatible with the battery because they’re for the rechargeable e-cigs
The ***** at 7-11 didn’t tell me that, why would she?
It’s her gain and my loss.
That’s her logic “this clueless kid doesn’t know any better, he just wants his nicotine fix.”
**** just ****
So now I either go buy the rechargeable kit for another twenty dollars
Or I just buy another disposable one for ten dollars and make the twenty I already spent completely worthless
Well
I’m not spending the other twenty, forget that right now!
I’m gonna buy another disposable one, then smoke the five nicotine cartridges, then the one it will come with then the first one I bought if it still has some juice left in it
All before the battery runs out and I gotta buy another one
Goodbye lungs!
Logic
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
i thought that when i was alive i was the most unhappy i've ever been.
then...then i ended it.
hoping.
wishing.
hell, even praying that i would be happier not existing.
boy was i wrong.
so wrong, in fact, that if i could go back to my miserable ****** little life...
i would.
in a heart beat.
the "afterlife", if you could call it that, is a horrible place.
and i wasn't around everyone that just died.
i was around all the sad ***** who thought the same way i did.
that ending it would be the answer.
there's a place for everyone after death.
depending on how you died you would end up there.
so all that bull **** about being with your loved ones after you die, is total ****
i mean, i was alone here.
and everyone else you talk to didn't learn anything.
they just went on be miserable.
and the stories they tell!
a person could just go crazy.
i learned. i learned that if i took my afterlife i'd probably just end up in a ******* mess than what i was already in.
.....
to be continued.
Oct 12, 2011
Oct 12, 2011 at 10:28 PM UTC
Donald Twittler, not a pretty picture
Sees himself as some kind of king.
Makes constant promises,
Doesn’t know what integrity is,
His word really doesn’t mean a thing.
Donald Twittler reveres Adolf ******
Wants a Nuremberg rally of his own.
He craves mass adulation
From a battered nation
From the mistakes that are his alone.
Donald Twittler phones from the *******
Rages online in the middle of the night.
Each complaint anyone makes
He claims they’re all fakes
As if he's ever known wrong from right.
Donald Twittler, the personification of a drifter,
Has no relationship with the truth at all.
Don’t bother asking why;
He’s the best his Dad could buy,
And he’s never had to be on the ball.
Donald Twittler, a slimy sort of critter
Gets climaxes from national attention.
He has never had morals;
Buys his way out of quarrels,
If he had a soul it’s far beyond redemption.
Donald Twittler, thinks he’s better than ******
And we should all kiss his big fat ***
More than half of us disagree
And urge him to quickly flee
Because most of us would just as soon pass.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC