"snobbish" poems
I never come here, you understand,
I'm of a higher social class,
But my washer dryer has broken down
And has left me without a single gown.
My dishwasher works fine and my wine rack is full,
But still, expensive washer dryers can breakdown
And make a lady frown.
I've got someone coming to fix it
(We have our washer dryer insured),
I should really get a new one but it's been really rather good...
It's always washed away the stains of fancy food.
Fellow launderer please understand -
as you look rather tough -
I won't judge you if you don't judge,
So let us wash our clothes in unspoken harmony
And make my inconvenience as unawkward as it can be.
But to my shame my snobbish mind assumes the worst;
That every rushing washer
Is thrusting clothes into the machines hurriedly,
Because they've all been on a killing spree.
Now the drying is almost done,
I can leave you with your dreary woes of working life and sleepless nights,
And go right home to dispose of that gun.
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
The *** with match, lit the fire
scolding kettle with burnt goaless ambition.
claiming snobbish golden prowess
paid in wanton , savage, screaming tuition.
"It is I" said ***
"Who has sent aromas of worlds
preperations in lifes gluttonous lust
smiling rewards genorously hailed
with slothed culanary trust..."
"tis true" whispered kettle
"It is I, the ***
forged in iron clad
who in laborious toil
so generously cast my sweet savory scraps
amongst your soot and soil..."
"tis true" hissed kettle,
"For I, the ***
adapt in multiple arrangement
of compliment and comfort where you lack
with singular solitary function
wailing, seared and scarred in black..."
"Tis true" whistled kettle
"I, the ***
filled in glorious substance and magnificant sustenance
praised in lifes delicate, vital, victuals and viands
in with which I do enhance..."
"Tis true" howled kettle
"Yet it is I, Kettle,
in further fashion of design
than copious function in fare
do not heed your song and dance..."
"Blah" clammered ***
"For it is I, the lowly kettle,
sing to each melodious morning
to begin the days
unknown magical soaring..."
"Pishaw" growled ***
"It is I, kettle,
bestowed in somber, modest truth of fact
nakedly express that
you too, my dear ***
are simply black..."
"humbug" steamed ***
*** humbled... kettle mumbled...
"It is in each honorable day
we serve our distinguishable stay
in detectable unadorned identicle way.
"Tis true" said ***
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 3:27 AM UTC
*She wove baskets for a living
Simple lass
Not a penny to her name
But a heart so free
She found her happiness
Floating on the breeze
That held onto her memories
Of a time when
He came full of wealth
Missing something all his life
He saw it in her eyes
A heart so caged
Waiting to be set free
Whisper on the breeze of understanding
As you looked into her eyes
Sapphire glances
Sadness so complete
As strangers do pass
A match of a kind
But he was so blind
He saw kindness
A face porcelain laid
Dark hair cascading
In ringlets
Dancing onto her shoulder’s so bare
He wanted her too much
When he looked into those diamond eyes
Her rags became another’s disguise
But when he awoke
His mind played a snobbish joke
How dare she look upon his face?
Tantalising
*****
Fool
Fake
How dare she tempt him
With her sapphire sweetness
And pureness of heart
Poor child
She saw his fear
She saw him
Caged
She felt him
Poor child
Who had fallen from a moment’s grace?
Some day she will wear diamonds and pearls
Someday this child will rule the world
One day the noble man will fall a fool
Never to stare into the golden pool
She was an angel
Come to test
The rest of the tale is now
Laid to rest*
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 8:05 PM UTC
***Overlooked so many times when I was ~wings~
I've passed briefly across the sea of your poetic
Endless streams and rivers; your upheaval way-
Snobbish smart butterfly ties grew your head up.
Without suffocating without any pause, you were
Gentle-man once ~ giving me the 'credibile' break-
Down the lane in Athens where Partenon resided
I saw your unfavouritable pilgrimage to awards.***
The guitarist at the dock played for herself, dreaming.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
Maybe after sighting
Each other buck naked
That ends the fighting
About whose is bigger
Or whose are real.
There ceases to be a trigger
Of envy, or competition,
As being clothes free
One is in no position
To hide behind frippery.
It is difficult to be snobbish
About your fabric and style
When all you are wearing
Is a sun hat and a smile.
Acting like you are a ****
Of taut body and shape
Wearing nothing but a sock
Makes you a target of japes
About getting over yourself
And maybe even getting real.
It really is that kind of situation;
That basic kind of reality deal.
Most of what is artificiality
Disappears when you’re ****
It gets easier to face reality
And much harder to be rude.
We quickly see that we are
We are sisters and brothers
And we do not need to live
By rules of fathers and mothers.
They were taught to be afraid
Of body parts called ‘naughty bits’;
Words like ‘nasty’ and ‘stop that!’
You adults can say, ‘I want none of it.
I’m through with thinking my crotch
Is something evil, sick and twisted.
Take my genitalia out of the book
Where you have sinfulness listed.
I exist as nature has made me
And it is wrong of you to correct
The natural person as I was born
Being a ***** is just a side-effect
Of being raised by people who
Were never raised quite right.
Maybe if everyone were ****
That would end the need to fight.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
The danger, the thrills, the risk, the chills,
It all combines in wave riding to build
The most euphoric experience around.
It doesn't matter whether it's ten-foot or two-foot,
Nor whether I'm body surfing, bodyboarding, nor surfing - longboard or short.
Hell, even a stand-up board will do the trick... if you know how to use it.
Whatever you've got to use to gain that thrill
That comes with harnessing Mother Nature, even against her will.
Some might be snobbish and frown upon those
Who happen to ride only upon the foam,
But in actuality it doesn't really matter
So long as you're out there having fun, because in the end,
That's truly the one who wins.
And to tell you the truth, I believe that's me.
Scratch that. I know I am.
When I am out there I know I am having the most fun.
I'm whooping and hollering and exuding the raw exultation of being in the water -
Of being at harmony, of being one with Mother Nature.
That, that is what matters, and
That, that is what I embody.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
Let me be selfish!
Let me be snobbish!
Let my ego shouts out!
Let my whole being be free from those silly norms!
Destiny might have other plans than what I hope!
Maybe I'm not part of your dreams or world!
Maybe I'm not in anyone's agenda!
Maybe I'm bringing Confusion!
Maybe my Shadow and the Dark Side still there and has its agenda!
If I say "I Love You".....
Am I violating your Values... Your Freedom... Your World!
If I say "I Love You".....
Am I breaking the norms of universe or peoples' or Community's Rules!
I am only voicing what is crying inside me!
I am only voicing the instinct that created by God!
As I am one of his Sons!!!!
Do I still need to care about those Norms anymore!
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
Moments of total nothingness,
you don't deserve it, just because you're unknown
Your greatest virtue lies within
your inner dialogue between one
Your audience smiles at your achievements,
as you look into a mirror applauding a reflection
Prolific insight woven and painted by your pen
is sadly wasted, unraveled and sloshed by bias
esoteric and snobbish, the twins of bias,
sit on high poetic mountains of celebrity,
while filing away your non-read thoughts into
deep, deep trashcans
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC
In the ears of mine intention
and heart of my affection
heavier are thy words
than Mike Tyson's punches:
they struck my feelings
hard, breakimg the chords
and jaws of my passion.
Truck of snobbish display . . .
. . . plight blighted . . .
crestfallen.
Should the sis linger more
in my marooned mind,
who hath belittled my person
and social worth?
Though i'm no Knight--
matter of fact, truly--
neither a nobleman, Miss Beauty,
with riches and a badge
of honour to show forth
my position, eminence and prestige:
wheeling thee about in a Rolls Royce
to diverse paradise of your choice;
yet deserve i no scorn of lips,
high lady,
even if belong nay to the gentry.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
My internal clock is set at Manhattan
I face the world with a jaded point of view
Manhattanites are chauvinistic, snobbish, opinionated
And relentlessly focused
Manhattan energy drives our universe
Like the taxies forge the streets
In a frontal assault
Art, history and multiculturalism
Remain the melting *** of stew
Brewed from micro to macro
But always after the brass ring
Always reaching upward
Like the skyscrapers of today and yore
Clamoring to be the tallest in the world
Yet knowing that we already are
Simply because we’re Manhattanites
Faith in our own destiny
We’re Manhattanites after all
And being a Manhattanite
Is all that needs to be said
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
dead bodies moving dead bodies
you know the theme, the scheme,
the thought and the idea
the bodies, dead, paying the bills,
moving dead past the dawn
eyeballs rolling up as windows
closing and doors close and open
the bodies, mass production,
lots of bodies
Monday, Tuesday, Shitday
Thursday, Friday, Saturday
and Christday
Neighbor Allah never greets anyone
and he talks to himself in echoes
Buddha is all smiles and virtues
but no muscle, Buddha's daughters
are out clubbing tonight ******* their
oriental curves, selling their oriental
scents and cold white skin
to Allah's *** deprived sons
Christ is the only father and
he disowns his nieces and nephews,
I knew years back that I am a distant relative
just dead bodies, yours and mine
produce, corporate livestock,
labels from the heaviest bills handed
over in sinister alleyways,
sinister exchanges, hitman to hitman,
extraction to extraction, fraction by fraction,
bodies serves as platforms,
nonliving chopping boards for the butchers
dressed up as elves
the bodies, limb by limb, sagging skins,
rivers of hairfalls, scratch marks,
Ms. Universe stretch marks, the *** tapes
of the cheerleaders whom silent and wise
boys yearned for all through years of fading
innocence
Closeted gay professionals keeping their pointed ******* when nothing's wrong with them until consent turns from probationary to mandatory and hate and red and blue and green and yellow flags and pedophiles and bigots and white supremacists and Allah whisperers and Allah fanatics and Buddha hypocrites and China takes over the world and feminists, and third and fourth and fifth and so on genders and Trump and memes and Filipinos and mental health and memes and mental health and memes and literature and literature and activists and who ****** who and politicians and what Americans, Australians, Chinese, Japanese, British, Candian, Irish and and North Koreans and K-Pop plastic lips and hips who young girls and boys from isolated islands gets ****** for and hipsters and the nine to fives and the ***** to give and the snobbish *** girls in parties, in clubs, in alleys who wants to get ****** by all the celebrity status ***** all just becomes a tiny pinch for the dead bodies not to see and point the flower and shoot the gun to end the human war.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
I’ll mimic Matterhorn or the worn ways we window gaze and swipe left
or turn right on the green light of another cliche
If you swear gray is all the shades you’ll
put on lamps to match the grayscale duvet
Then catch me if you cat o’ nine tails
a swallowed whale,
We swear with chapped lips a waterworn promise
Maybe the Amish had it right and we’re a little bit snobbish.
I’ll Jack O’Lantern your etch-a-sketch erotica,
Not much scarier, these days, trick or treat.
Q-tips got your tongue? I’ll Question where you Came From 4 as long i Chan.
You don’t leave the house anymore except for groceries.
Catch me if you cat o’ nine tails
a swallowed whale,
Nineveh won’t wait, it’s time to break bread with danger and death.
Jan 17, 2021
Jan 17, 2021 at 11:55 PM UTC
They speak without words
They feel without touch
Stare a bit too long,
you’ll give 'way too much
More than six seconds,
he’ll think that you want it
But don’t stare at all
he’ll think that you’re snobbish
Mmm, I’ll stare at you all day
till you see what I’m doing
I want it, right now,
and it’s you I’m pursuing
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
I saw this world as a beautiful place,
one that welcomes me everyday,
but apparently that's not the case,
cause nobody will ever have their say.
Parents, oh no, not those terms,
because it definitely does not suit them,
instead they abuse and neglect,
to their child they'll only wreck.
Let's not forget those childish harassment,
that people in general gives to others,
also the society with errors of judgement,
which lead to many trails of ashes.
And just as I remembered what I've left out,
is the ********* of what we named 'grown-ups',
their conservative talks that they shout,
shutting out imperfect ones that drowns in tubs.
Humanity? What loads of *******
naming beings that they refuse to acknowledge 'monster',
how ironic and may I say snobbish?
when beings of their own kind they will slaughter.
*Rejecting, exterminating, stigmatizing and resenting,
huh, monster, they say.*
Heading next to the well-known bully,
this cycle will never ever cease to exist,
cause for generations it will always sully,
this immature charade that'll seem to persist.
And you ask for me to be positive,
when I live in this world filled with negatives,
it's fine if you wanna be all judgemental,
cause I'll say you're obviously mental.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
I am lost
Am I a loser?
I failed
Am I stupid?
I love someone
Am I loveable?
I careless
Am I cared?
I am forgetful
Am I forgotten?
I am shy
Am I snobbish?
I am weird
Am I crazy?
I have friends
Am I friendly?
I am lonely
Am I a loner?
I am sad
Am I depressed?
I am happy
Am I cheerful?
I love foods
Am I fat?
I am on diet
Am I skinny?
I have pimples
Am I ugly?
I hate to study
Am I a bad grader?
I love studying
Am I a nerd?
I am thinking
Am I a scientist?
I am wondering
How can I make your day?
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
Easy will I give blood to thee
My love of anger simmering.
Tough mutts and breezy gates shut up while I'm walking up the paved path to heaven.
My shadows carve depictions of their home across it's border, until the time that obliteration comes preceding daylight.
Presently, the senses tell stories of alleyways, bending, screaming, dark, and hollow niches where cells holding cretins feeding on easy cons, closely eyeing the greasy pawns that wobble across rotting paper, voodoo art a secret guarded closely hidden in the hole a beating heart long ago vacated. Robbing rich snobbish ****** their childrens life of ignorance concerning newfound addictions.
You know the type.
You know that I know you too, and how you prefer to shape the ghastly forms these predators take, turn them into your thralls discarded soon after rehearsing the parts of your play, writtin precisely to incite your own addiction to probability gamble gaming intuition. trashing skits naturally reactive to exhibited patterns laughing mad at the victms thrashing quiver, stashing films of the accidents in your pack to gift the sadistic mastiffs attack and ravage and tear and
Sadness.
The fictitious movies play out onto the skyscape of this mind we share, and attempt to accept the last thing you truly fear.
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 10:40 AM UTC
A sheep and a goat once
Got locked in a fracas
“Off you go!
Don't you know
You are an embodiment
For an idiot!
How dare you trample
On the leaf down
From the stem of an apple
That dangle
And which I was apt
To cut and eat.
I really hate
A sheepish creature of your sort
With alacrity to a dictate
Going to an altar is whose fate
And that no offense on others inflict
Or none contradict.
A wet -blanket
A kill-joy
Or for the witty
A good toy!” said the goat.
Dismayed and sad
The sheep replied
“In a futile bid
To satisfy your greed
With your horn blind
You scratched my feet
And began your complaint
To hoot.
Watch also what
You talk about
On doomsday
The likes of me stand
By the right of
The presiding judge
Jesus Christ.
While the likes of you
Cast to the left
Your lot
You shall lament.
An embodiment
of the devil
Indulge in all evil
It is your wont
Oft to rebel
Also snobbish, than
Labor fault in others to identify
Why don't you try
To see the bar
In your eye?
***** got, I also wonder
How come you care not
Your private part to cover!
You must not
Also forget
It is the addle-pate
Who are prone all to manipulate
And call the poor- folk- in -Christ
An imbecile or
An idiot.
Though
'Don't be a sheep in a goat's age
Is what is encapsulated
In today's adage,
You and I
Will never ever be
On the same page!
An Ethiopian
Will never ever
Change his skin,take note
Nor could a sheep be a goat!”
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
We are afraid
As we give you aid
We have the liberty
To maneuver your head
To the extent your are
Deprived a go ahead
To tend
Your self-development
And self -reliance
Seedbed.
"When money speaks
the truth is silent"
If you want to continue
Our client
Remember you're macilent
So try not to be violent
Fighting back with" Though
I'm poor I 'm somebody!"
'Cause, snobbish, we may prefer
This budy from that budy.
Don't be naughty
There is nothing
As such inviolable
Sovereignty.
A budy
That does not
Help better optimize
Our advantage
Shoddy, could not
Come to the same page.
Note also
We could pull strings
And to loan givers tell
"When we speak
Wag your tail!"
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 7:48 AM UTC
I
The morning traffic settles down
When the smell of chips create a haze
By the arts block.
Squawking fills the passageways
And now a familiar face taps
Your weary back
While you are drowned by stomping feet
And despite the try your mind clots;
The name deletes
And you’re left thinking it is Scott,
While all this time his name is Pete.
He didn’t hear it through the stamps
And we sit lakeside by the lamps.
II
Morning: you arise from consciousness
And faint stale smells of beer
From the night on Dublin streets,
A night you won’t repeat, unless
The moon reclaims the lands.
And of course the Paddy’s day parades,
That, one naturally assumes.
Just thinks of all the hands
Raising pints by the spades
In a thousand bright green rooms.
III
You stretched your arms above your head
And yawned at a class you’ve never hated
You dozed, and watched the screen revealing
The thousand boring images
Of which World War II was constituted;
Their burning qualities weren’t appealing -
They stung until the world went black
But the light crept up between your shutters
And you heard the backgrounds snobbish tutters,
Despite meeting them on Grafton Street
Where you exchanged drunken demands.
You awoke and cringed as you were aware
Of the tuft sticking up about your hair,
But instead of a fix-trip, to save your feet,
You covered it with your hands.
IV
You stared up at the flawless skies
That fade behind the Newman block,
Or often watched insistent feet
At four and five and six o'clock,
Or watched the fountain-spewing pipes,
And watched the swans watch life’s disguise
While you recalled wild fantasies,
Of walking down a college street
And opening your eyes to receive the world.
And now my eyes have been unfurled
And I feel like a god, a king
For I have seen an infinitely mental,
Infinitely wonderful thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
And treat the worlds like you treat the women
And hopefully both will give you lots!
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 12:37 PM UTC
let's have a war
and this time
a real big one
a star war
a personal war
a virus and a spam war
an a, b and c war
a die hard laughing war
a bleeding, burning, ****** war
a religious war
a self-righteous and
a self-satisfied war
a snobbish war
an honest war
a social, moral and lonely war
a civil disobedience war
an embarrassing war
a sad and useless war
a perfect war
of course a world war
a final war to end all war
.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 8:48 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret,Kenya;[email protected])
It is moral duty of poetry to throw away ***** power
Often formed by political snobs out of selfish extension,
Poetry without arms and ammunition have been there
Ever creating social and political power un-violently,
Planting moralized empires that cannot away be washed
By the snobbish currents of constituent powers that be,
Show me all the social powers formed by poetry
That ever oppressed the poor or the weak,
You would have given me glorious pedestals
On which I will firmly stand and stretch my arm
To show to the world a blind philosopher,
Even Rudyard Kipling in his prime of colonial poetry
Had the Indian kidimadiggar, sorriest of all coolies
As the constituent pith in his racist hearty
Where blended colonial urge and poetical altruism
Into humane conscience for destituent social power.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
No one cares I am not okay today this is not okay I look at what I love I want to destroy something rip it to pieces and never let anyone know and maybe then I shall be happy I shall be at peace because I’ll know that the snobbish will have been destroyed not death but life I will grant her Life the worst disease a disease incurable the only disease we will never be able to cure no matter how far science comes and that’s why science is ******** because it will never cure what kills the most
and no death is not a cure for life because they say life keeps going afterwards and I believe that I think I do I think I am I am I am true to myself that’s why I protect my faith will God grant me heaven or is there more on Earth and nothing can ever be perfect since if I die in an awful way how will I know how I died in heaven if heaven is a place with no pain and if I can’t remember my death how will I be able to remember my family and my love how I loved her I did I loved her very much but I am afraid of her now because she cries at night and hates me because I loved her even though she desired love and that’s what I gave unto her I blessed her with love but she hates me and everyone hates me and I take walks to know I am okay and that’s is why I must get rid of beauty not her beauty but of her life’s beauty and she is her life not herself but Her her she is what made her not love me me but her and how crazy I drive and I take walks when where who what why why could she just not love me there is nothing wrong with me I will stomp I will roar calm me mother calm me sing me a lullaby
the fan screams as the clock strikes five she screams she screams she screams hateandlove
I love her with the passion of one million suns
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
Jeanette was by
the wire fence
leaning against it
her hands
in front of her
resting one
on the other
she watched me
as I came out
of the school door
leading from the side
onto the sports field
her friend Angela
the blonde girl
had gone home
for lunch
why did you kiss me
like that?
she asked
as I went by her
your cheek
was tempting me
I said
so I kissed it
you should have
at least asked
she said
I will next time
I said
looking at her
taking in
her thin frame
and arms
what makes you think
there will be
a next time?
she said
her eyes were dark
like small currents
in cream dishes
I feel lucky
I said smiling
she didn’t smile back
you hang around
with that Rolland boy
don't you?
she said
yes he's a friend
I said
I don't like him
she said
he doesn't like you
much either
I said
he says
you're a titless wonder
she blushed
and looked away
but I like you
I think you have
a certain class
I mean the way you
sit there listening
to all that classical stuff
Miss Graham plays
to us in lessons
while we
are bored brainless
you sit there
in another world
actually enjoying it
she looked at me
I love Beethoven
she said
his music moves me
her eyes settled on me
she played with her fingers
but you ought
to have asked
before kissing
she said
have you told anyone
I kissed you?
no of course not
she said
shame it might do
some good
I said
in what way?
she said
other kids might not
think you so stuffy
and snobbish
I said
she looked
at her well heeled shoes
and white socks
it was only a peck
she said
not a real kiss
it was lips
on cheek skin
I said
wet and warm
she said shyly
there you go
I said
BENNY
Rolland called out
from the sports field
COME ON FOOTIE
best go
I said
see you in class
and I ran off
towards Rolland
and other boys
kicking a ball
maybe a kiss tomorrow
she had said
as I went off
up on the grass
I nodded
and turned away
the sky had brightened
blue skies
had moved off
the dull of grey.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC