"sicko" poems
They call it a 'Class War"
They call it a "War of Liberation"
whilst its just another instance of white oppression
Childish, immature, mean and nasty underachievers
like the kid on the beach who kicks over others sandcastle
because they are better than the ******* castle he made
Like that that uncool dumb teen who scatters the board game
because he's now seen that he is losing and cannot win at all
like those ugly pimpled friends who would play gooseberry
and cock-blockers because they can't get nice dates of their own
like that bitter mad one who will spill ink over your white top
or new Trainers because he or she has old and ***** ones
They are all from the world of the sicko psychos and damaged
talent-less mean, envious, sad pathetic people going nowhere
If I can't make it, why should others do and be winners
They all graduate to the divisive politics of the ****** losers
Power is stopping progress and advancement because they are down
Power is bringing achievers and enterprise down they can's gain
Power is sabotaging all that is good because they are bad in all
Measly fetid minds they plot and conspire in gangrenous network
dolts, scums, unwashed losers and rejects of society, bottom feeders
Come join the Party, our specialty is chaos and disruption of winners
The pathetic jokes of the white West, losers in their own backyards
picks on an African who came from disadvantages to better them
better educated, more intelligent, cool and stylish in every way
pack full of potential, going places they can never go or reach
Our sick, mean spirited under-achievers, expert losers and scums
crawled on the war-path, riddled with envy, sick with jealousy
ruin his progress, oppose and disrupt a black man who doubles
efforts to achieve, what if losers try is given to them on a plate
What here is done for the greater good, what here is honorable
celebrated victories for psychos, racist underachievers I think not
peoples power? more sick, tormented, jealous n envious chicanery
anarchy jealousy, anarchy shame, anarchy racists, anarchy liars
One Single Black achiever demonstrates the inherent strength
and grace of our all our Ancestors against sick, persistent white oppression. That's the story here.
If its a fair war, why hide and go underground, why fight *****
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
After long dark,
you can find me in my mind;
taming serpents; kissing girls.
You may not understand
why I've been the way I am.
You're under-educated
and that's only half your fault.
Sometimes I am imprisoned
within the waves of an ocean
that always misbehaves --
but it's not my fault; just the
way the god rolls: making halves
and making wholes.
After the short syrup of light,
you can find me hiding, true;
pulling off ticks; kissing boys.
You may not comprehend
the way I'm fumbled together.
You're under-educated
and that's only half your fault.
Always I am imprisoned
within the crash of culture;
my thoughts treated like worms;
my illnesses considered contrived.
But it's not my fault; just the
way you guys roll: ignoring halves
for conventional wholes.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
Let me walk you through inside a writer's mind.
Aren't you curious?
How can someone write like that?
How can someone have those sick emotions?
How can someone be so dramatic?
How can someone be that suicidal?
How can someone be so sad?
You know what?
Being able to write about those things is a privilege.
If I have no one to talk to,
if I have no one to vent all my sentiments,
poems are going to slap me with a pen and a paper.
And i'm all good.
Once i've let go of that burning pen,
the moment I read what I wrote into that ****** paper.
My diaphragm finally relaxed,
I can finally breathe.
And when a writer doesn't have any inspiration,
that soul must do all thy take to feel everything and anything in order to fill those pages, those ****** pages.
You must value every word you read inside a poem or any kind of literature.
Because you didn't know what emotional ride that living flesh took just to serve you those burning hot raw words.
But aren't you curious?
Don't you want to know what it took?
What it took to serve those emotions to you?
A writer...
Scream, screamed like a mad sicko.
A writer...
Cry, cried like a new born baby.
A writer...
Laugh, laughed like there's no tomorrow.
A writer...
Burn, burned in their own oil.
A writer...
Slit, slitted thy skin and...
A writer...
Cut, cutted thy flesh and...
A writer...
Bleed, bleed until there's no more left.
Bleed until that living soul can write something.
A writer...
Is empty.
A writer...
Is a lost soul who can't find it's way back.
A writer...
Is dead... inside.
Then, viola!
A burning hot literature is served.
And that, my friend, is what inside a writer's mind.
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
Four Marines lost their lives to what is being called domestic terrorism.
Some sicko with a gun shoots these guys. One of the dead is just 19 years old.
I did not cry because I was sad that four American men lost their lives to violence.
I cried because for the first time, I'm so glad that you're in Japan, so glad that you're so far away.
I'm so glad you're alive.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
Doctor, tell me:
What do you believe of a woman who envies
not the placement of the ******* sword
but the expectation
placed upon the glorified weapon
to penetrate the holy blossom positioned
between two soft mounds of rosy flesh that
she would die to run her mouth over?
Faceless textbooks whisper
of specialized jealousy
that I, for a lifetime,
will never comprehend—
instead:
Red rouge cheeks plastered against
a clear pane, staring at the winged
angel behind the counter;
Doctor, I hate being a consumer—
I would much rather use my hands
to create a small squeal from
behind her silver tongue
revealing what she thinks
about my manner of exclaiming desire:
writhing lust, ***** thirst,
with weighty spit and heavy breathing
again an instrumental soundtrack:
her movements, mattress creaking—
But Doctor, do you think I am sick?
What is my diagnosis if I can only find beauty
in this societal No-No,
if I have never been an artist
but I always find myself painting
wonderful masterpieces
(a protégé’s standard)
with a cut lock of her hair as a brush,
dipped in white crushed powder,
fresh from a plastic orange bottle
that fell off my desk—
Must I confess to another sin, as if this is the church of
my grandmother’s rosary-laden hands?
Yes, I am reluctantly in love with my Escitalopram
so I have flirted with Acceptance
but he did not seem to like me.
Look here—
Just yesterday
I tried to sell her portrait
to a blonde woman in a pristine art gallery
who peered at my matted hair and how
it fell over the sweater I was wearing,
stained with dark muck,
and I was sent away with the canvas
clutched loosely by my
trembling fingers so that it
barely escaped being dropped.
I do not have nails anymore, Doctor—
What do you make of that?
I have plucked them off their
respective beds and that makes me
feel a little sick but
all is well because it is infinitely better
for my girl's fragrant little blossoms
when she comes into my arms
and allows me to pick them,
one by one, as I roam her field—
Doctor, I would sooner live
in the crumbling pavements of Hell
for an eternity than lose the dreams
that I freely, frequently dream
regarding her and how my nubbed hands are held so dear.
Anyway, Doctor, you need not worry:
I will always have my Escitalopram.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
You know those moments
where you have your
deepest
darkest
secret
perverted
disgusting
wrong
worrying
thoughts
and you realize
you're a real sicko
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 7:30 PM UTC
david was warning me, i didn't listen
instead i kept on running towards you
controlfreak of the netherworld, goon
my life is like a fairy tale, shimmering
invention and glory, similarly
psychopathic word play, baby doll
schizoprenic flow, i have to write
standing ovation for my family
some people have double standards
sweetlove tried to correct me;
hosting a contest about racism
playing grammar police, she was like:
"could you edit this horrible slang?"
no, it's simply the voice of many people
i demasked your entire outfit, kiddo
never ever will you hear back from me
once upon a time, i grew up, now i'm huge
tall, fat, dope, fresh, i'm ********
adjectives for my people to subsist
my life's a motion picture, get it baby
pipi langstrumpf zöpfe, du lächerliche
throw some german into the mix and be real
dinosaurs are chasing me, as long as i'm on it
paranoia guardians, copycat killers, word
livelong sessions, i'm not hiding myself
behind the mask is a good-hearted sicko
a sick, good-hearted person, no doubt
broad-shouldered and i stick my chest out
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 7:49 AM UTC
I used to be an intern for CD Tech Health Corps
I worked with stipend money
Through Trade Tech Community College
I was trained to learn about health in
The communities of Los Angeles, California
And how it affects us as individuals and as groups
Some things I already knew like how the government
Allows liquor stores, fast food restaurants and loan offices
To be overpopulated in middle class and ghetto communities
To cause: misery, addictions, and poor work ethic
But people got used to it, even though it’s obviously unfair
What I didn’t know is by law there is supposed to be
A limit on how many fast-food and liquor stores
There are on each corner in the community
I learned from watching the Michael Moore video called Sicko
That the pharmaceutical companies own the hospitals
And they pressure the doctors, nurses and other staff employees
To refuse to help some people if they don’t have health insurance
Or they make it difficult for the people who are qualified for it
By making these ridiculous rules and requirements
I saw a grown man cry to God for help, because he was very sick
But the insurance company wouldn’t cover his
Medical procedure… a few years later he died
I learned that: France, Canada, and England run their hospitals
With more efficiency and compassion than the United States:
A visit to the hospital is free; they provide safe transportation home,
Give patients money to catch a cab, and they believe in
Treating their citizens with resect whether they’re rich or poor
C’mon people we live in the most powerful country in the world
And we supposedly have the best health care system on earth
We should back up that reputation, embrace the Obama care
Or come up with a better health care program to help all of our citizens
And we should be more Godly about how we treat the less fortunate
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
I mean it !
It was really somthin!
Joey ha ha!
Well there was this babe see
And Joey he oh brother!
...
...
I can hardly ----
I mean it !
It was sumpthin !
I tell ya!
Something to write Home about
It's hard to put it down
But it was really sumpthin !
----------
---------
All the hatred in the world never done did nothin good
(Nor bad or even substantial)
.-------
-------
.
A little child trusting you and now what?
Ya gonna go and **** someone and become a millionaire?
Ha ** The friggin world!
Watching the same **** every day!!
-------
-------
Little kid on the razor street with the jazzed up monkey
Dancin on his back
Sellin souls real cheap and there you are
In the police force
With your drone airplane
-------
------
For some reason errybody jaberrin bout bombs n ****
All **** week!
Why dat?
.
.
.
Little kid out on a street
The silent street
The street that ain't there
Except when the kid dead and then it's there
For a little while til another kid dead some where's else
Then a bomb goes off an yer gone
------
------
See-- we got dis prez born in Kenya
------
------
In America we takes all the sicko bejabberers
And puts em all in one building and calls
Em Senators
An then we surround the building an laugh at the sickos
and throw em bananas
Meanwhiles they be killin us
And then for sure there's them banker dudes
SHUT UP!
We Aints ta say no more bout it!
They off limits ya know!
------
------
Now how'd I start this thing so I kin wind it down
And get outta here with my head on straight an my body in one piece
And you not hatin me and bombs goin off
And all of that what you do to me
an little kids
Out on dyin roads and where they lead
To garbage dumps and the third world
And conspiracy and hypocrisy
And all that stuff we gets talkin about ?
...
Oh yeah
.
I was talkin about me bud Joey ha ha!
And this babe
See
An it was sumpthin I'm tellin ya!
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
Ha im a sicko
a ******
a troubled youth
grown to a ***** mouth
Been sellin dope out the days inn
yeap she look at me
This ***** going in
Have her hollar out
eat that *****
she know im good
cuz im mexican
ill eat the taco
treat that ***** like a buffet
and here I go again
she pop that *** back
and I make it soakin wet
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
You drained me out of words
when you show me your world
fantasy full of lies
beneath the dark dark skies.
I was speechless,
motionless,
witless, powerless
to act on impulse
no less.
The culmination of our meeting
lead me into thinking
I am no scatter-brain
to be used for your pain.
Yet something told me
ominous as a dark cloud can be
you are not who you are
a dream, you so callously portrayed to me.
You are a wolf you say
howling, hunting for a prey
in my dreamless sleep you came
bare of everything;
armed with burning desire to fullfil the beast that you became.
You touched me like hell
I was like a wrecking belle
repulsing every movement you take
stopping every attempt you make.
Go away, don't disturb me and my peaceful sleep
go back to God-knows where you came so deep
don' t drag me to your so- called world, sicko-wacko
You're a man not a wolf you know.
Swallow your own thirst
engulf by your own dark mist
drown in your own sorrow
because now I blocked you
to leave me in peace and a better tomorrow.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
She was the only son
Her father never had.
Her legs were lean and long,
Alas, her eyes were bad.
And then at Sweet Sixteen
Her Father drove her mad.
(A sicko is a ****** after all.)
And after ten long years
They set her on the street.
With a pretty dress
And new shoes on her feet.
And so she looks for Daddy...
Or any fresh, new meat.
(Cuz an axe is an axe, after all.)
Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 4:29 PM UTC
How can you be so blind?
Crushing on dumb boys who don't deserve you
Unable to move on from a toxic guy
With the maturity of a 5-year-old
Who lies and manipulates and takes
the most amazing person in this entire **** world
for granted
I want nothing more than to beat him to a pulp and
throw him in the
garbage where he belongs
Because no one is allowed to hurt you
I'm so angry
My mind is racing
How dare he
You could do so much better than him
So much better than anyone
(So much better than me)
What kind of sicko has the best girl in the whole entire universe
and throws her away?
I don't know what to do
But he does not get to get away with
hurting
you
Feb 25, 2025
Feb 25, 2025 at 11:40 AM UTC
A magic floor show.
Floor show of syllables.
Hotchpotch box of nouns and verbs.
A powerful infusion.
Cast me a spell.
Maybe using,
Celtic herbs.
Better still poetic words.
I wish that with sweet sorcery.
That that sweet man would notice me.
Be attentive to me.
One or two of my needs at least.
Rip off the lid.
Be glad you did.
Press release.
In a box of spells was stored.
A sweet sanctity of incantations.
Painted blue imagination.
Maybe red.
Hop in my bed.
Summoning my mischief man.
If I could get an eagle to ****** him in her claws.
Up up up away.
As fast as she can.
Carry him to my place just for today.
Got to drop him on my bed.
With a little luck drop him on his head.
Obviously don't end up dead.
Hit him with a little sense.
Send him back to me.
Wrapped.
Unwrapped.
However he comes.
Christmas paper's not a mistake.
Could do with a decent gift.
Still feeling rather miffed.
Stick him in my stockings.
This nurse is for shocking.
No desire for a thicko.
Certainly don't want a sicko.
But I shan't say what I want!
Except a renewed friend request... LOL
(c) Livvi 01/12/13
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
I hope this is a ****** joke
That there's no fire only smoke
Coming from guns loaded with ire
But lacking the guts the triggers require
I hope, Sicko, that you're okay
That this is just another display
Of frustration or anger or sadness
I don't know, help me, this is madness!
Crying fire like that on the phone
Yelling help in that convincing tone
Quite an actor, you are, what a stunt
You must take me for a stupid ****
Tell me, why did you send that text
When you know what will happen next
I'll be out of my my wits with fear
That you might this time actually disappear
It's been days now, and I'm losing hope
I thought jokes were your means to cope
Now I'm not so sure this is fun
If it is, then please stop, you have won!
Please respond, please, I beg you, call
I shall not hold a grudge at all
I just hope that you're safe, okay
Help me chase that paranoia away.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
Buffalo Bill was tweaked,
a real *******
making a skin outfit like that
& dancing around like a super freak,
pinching his *******
& screaming at captured chicks
to put lotion on their skins.
What a sicko.
For real.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
It's apparently an oddity
A strange thought to be
Capable of flight - of mental invincibility
Life awarded to those 'fortunate' enough to win the lottery.
Put down the mental shotty
Imagining brains displayed sloppily
Doing things naughtily
Sickening debauchery.
With your eyes, can you see?
Or still blinded by your hate-filled ideology?
Imaginary substances manifesting at your fingertips, illogically?
Swinging, pulling, pushing, prodding, don't you miss your family?
Pleading cries, misty eyes just push you into ecstasy
Dear God, just get away from me
Hard to believe we're of the same blood, house stench of rotten memories
Same blood you want to spill. Indefinitely.
I think mother is starting to burn, put her in the oven lovingly?
Water over flowing, brother drowning - turned the faucet peacefully?
Little Kacey's stomach not pumping, smothering with a sense of superiority?
You belong in a mental institute, just get the hell away from me!
You killed my brother, took my mother, murdered my sister happily
Killing me next will give you a feeling truly satisfactory!
Father isn't your name, you're a mother ******* demon, knowingly!
No, it's too late. Nothing can save me now, God has abandoned me surely.
You satisfied yet, you ******* sicko? For you, this is mandatory
We were once a happy family, father and son, but this is the end of the story.
A comedy, drama, horror. The story became a tragedy.
It just ***** that this couldn't end fantastically...
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
If you looked at my lips,
you would not even recognize them anymore.
You once said they were porcelain soft.
Well now my porcelain has cracked and will never be put back together by your words.
But I guess that is a good thing.
Why would I want something so fake and evil tracing across my face and ruining my smile.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
People will never understand
My irony when I say
I hope you
Choke on ****
And die.
That's the honest to god truth.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 6:43 AM UTC
They call me
MELLOW DRAMA
(That's right------
Pure ******
..
Like a church minaret!
Rising so tower-ishly
Towards the mystical heaven
Of our dreams!
-------
Our pain.....!!
------------
I
(MELLOW DRAMA
by name)
Take up
The might Pen
and ink reality
Upon
The raw pages
Of your
****** minds!
-----
Love lost
Before
Love found
---
No mean trick here
Really
--------
MELLOW DRAMA
new action hero
For a psychopathic age!
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
Above in Maroon.
Pond.
Suffer numb.
Hurry.
Sick of.
Sicko.
Sewing grass into clothes.
Glitter for the sleep.
Eyeshadow and weep.
From Let her dance to Wanna be sedated.
Garrett Johnson.
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 10:30 PM UTC
I want to admit the pain I'm suffering, but attention spans don't last too long,
I want to give the world something to remember me, I want to create a stone,
in which my children read to follow on by passing down to future centuries
remembering who I am, but here I am again, sitting all alone feeling like bore.
I don't want to hurt a million hearts in the process of creating machinery of love's heartbeats,
the gears are stuttering like the words out of my mouth, every opening is like a new glitch,
a new broken tool found amongst the metal pipes.
I can say, I am a cheat, a worthless matter, but look, I've noticed why I broke the hearts of him,
he wanted me, I did too, but I was so caught up in my own lies I couldn't tell him the truth,
it hurt too much because in the end I wanted to be loved, but I let lust take over that night,
it blinded me dearly, and choked me until the dawn light, those days I wanted to run and to die,
I just wanted to desperately cry, my friend's palm arose from my shoulder,
this time I knew, I really ****** up this time.
But after five months of the pure misery, of staying up every-night wanting to cry my eyes out,
I found out that I was blessed with love, I saw him walking around, speaking out loud,
his knowledge would spread like a disease, except this time, I want to breathe,
yet I see him walking away, out of my palms into the grey, please don't go away.
I don't want to, feel the pain I felt so much before, maybe this time, it's not meant to end,
please somebody set me free.
I try so hard to fall in love again, but it's so hard to get that spark up, I feel like hiding,
shadowing away, but every time love comes I run away, I don't want to shatter hearts any more,
I am toxic, a demon girl. Please, please, please, I don't want to be this way.
You were the only smile I could feel the warmth, everyone around, but my eyes locked,
locked onto you, you are perfection to my eyes.
Yet the past it crept on in, when I could've grabbed your hand, it pushed me away,
choking my breath, my hands won't stop shaking I'm in such a mess.
I am here everyday, crying inside, please can someone see past my façade,
I am insane, I'm crazy, I am a sicko but somebody love me.
I've been raised to be the perfect woman, and now on, I feel like disasters,
Please don't stereotype my body, my heart it's not the same thing.
I want to write, I want to paint, I want to sing, perform on a stage,
I want to draw every piece, but every drawing, it looks like him or a stranger.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
I will name you and shame you, in public, at will,
I will point out your face in the crowd,
I will tell all the secrets that I've kept inside,
I will scream them all out so loud,
Your a heartbreaker, a dream taker, a low life coward,
You snatched away my youth,
People will know what a sicko you are,
After they hear the truth,
Your a dog, a rat a vile waste of space,
I hope your mind brings you pain,
Your an innocence eater, liar and deceiver,
In hell you'll rot, again and again,
But wait!!!! Hold on, just stop still there,
Take a good long look it's me,
I've survived, revived, stayed alive,
Because I'm stronger than you'll ever be,
So when you see me, don't get a thrill,
Don't think you have ruined me,
Coz I'm telling the secrets to the judge in the court,
And they're gonna throw away the key.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
My grandmother's boyfriend ***** me at three
They thought that I liked it. No, I said please
Leave me alone, you're not funny, this hurts
Then I would have to wear sicko's hot spurts
This, added with prenatal memories
Left me scarred for life, an e'mergency
Case of I'll get back in time. Do you hear?
Now that I've killed you can call me a queer
Just 'cause you said it don't make it true
You'd probably hurt me more, make me eat glue
Imagine one day that this happened to you
And know just how much I am permanently *******
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 12:31 PM UTC
Ima beast I'm the devil I'm in chaos every night cause I know who he really is..
My diary knows who he really is even that didn't want to come and spend a night for I am intoxicating ....drip...drip..
Sicko run threw my veins
Sicko run threw his home
Please ignore the possibility of walking alone.
Alter egos or ****** life
It wants me to be someone today and another at night.
But I swear and pray and those hold me tight.
Sicko, sicko
Get lost tonight
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC