"snotty" poems
I knew it'd happen.
A dead Ladybug over our heads.
But we drank.
Beer,
Champagne,
Sun.
We painted our nails
Black, red, ladybug's dead
Out we went,
In our finest.
One drink down,
New town.
Sticky floors, sticky web, the Ladybug hung dead.
I say something,
to you.
I know it's going to happen.
You fume.
Tick, tick, tick...
You start to shout.
Cigarette.
Here we go.
I'm not backing down on this,
I'm trying to help!
Help me, help me, set me free, let me live, ladybugs free!
*****
I bite my lip
SNOTTY
I breathe
LIAR
I blow
Tears spill on your face,
My truth comes out,
You pushed me!
Poke, Poke, Push!
Poke, Poke, Push!
We hurt each other.
Over nothing.
Over something you don't like?
What is it?
I give up.
Taxi for one,
Taxi for two.
My head is heavy,
Eyes weak.
I'll be the bad guy.
You'll cry to them,
and lie, lie, lie!
Fly, fly, fly far away. Ladybugs aren't here to stay.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 4:57 PM UTC
The entitled ones:
Snotty, stuck up, rude
Nasty, spoiled prudes
Your misery, their fun
Loosen up your buns, entitled ones
‘Cause I am in no mood
To harbor your attitude
And snooty snippy sayings sung
The desk between us that which divides
Does not right you to be snide
Entitled ones need not apply
Entitled are entitled nigh
The ones who earn entitlement
Are the ones who give respect
Possessors of this enlightenment
Such respect is what they’ll get
Treat your servers as you will with such level of pomposity
But understand that I abide by way of reciprocity
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Although your red hair looks ace
any colour would flow well with your face;
sewage blonde speckled like an unwashed sink,
decayed purple, ***** pink,
sobbing violet, ***** brown,
snotty yellow on a unwashed frown,
manure sliver with a rotting hue,
***** orange, or suicide blue,
they'd all look good, look good on you.
And yes your scarlet locks shimmer with plush
but everything looks great next to your mush!
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
I stand there and smile and check them in
I answer all of their stupid questions with a pleasant grin
8 hours of this then I'll be free
None of these people care how they treat me
Their snotty and rude and make a mess
I've never behaved this way while being a hotel guest
They turn up their nose's and spend money all week
Then when it comes to the bill they want to be cheap
A discount here a discount there
And when I say, "No", they grit their teeth and stare
They yell loud and scream like I will bend or cry
Thanks to the survellience camera I have an alibi
In my head I start to wonder
"Isn't this the guest that asked for a plunger?"
"He's complained about the food and our lovely staff."
"He's dissing our lamps and even our town maps."
"Then he comes to the front desk to fuss and cuss."
"He's pointing his fingers and having a fit."
"Yuk! He's talking so fast his mouth is collecting spit."
I decided that was it I had enough
Working in the service industry is tough
But all I could do was stand there and smile
And this is what played in my head all the while
When people start to scream and shout
This is what I do to tune them out...............
This is a test of the Emergency **** Off System.
This is only a test
insert sound here
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
you haven't lived
until you've been in a
flophouse
with nothing but one
light bulb
and 56 men
squeezed together
on cots
with everybody
snoring
at once
and some of those
snores
so
deep and
gross and
unbelievable-
dark
snotty
gross
subhuman
wheezings
from hell
itself.
your mind
almost breaks
under those
death-like
sounds
and the
intermingling
odors:
hard
unwashed socks
****** and
*******
underwear
and over it all
slowly circulating
air
much like that
emanating from
uncovered
garbage
cans.
and those
bodies
in the dark
fat and
thin
and
bent
some
legless
armless
some
mindless
and worst of
all:
the total
absence of
hope
it shrouds
them
covers them
totally.
it's not
bearable.
you get
up
go out
walk the
streets
up and
down
sidewalks
past buildings
around the
corner
and back
up
the same
street
thinking
those men
were all
children
once
what has happened
to
them?
and what has
happened
to
me?
it's dark
and cold
out
here.
4.1k
I am often told that love will leave me breathless,
But I hope I never know a love so greedy as to steal the air from my chest,
For I have memories of a time when my body was oxygen starved
And my lungs unable to draw in breath,
Bogged down under soupy pneumonia that clung to my innards
With vice-like, snotty grips.
My mind is sometimes lost in the sensation of frantically
Drawing air inward,
******* it into my chest with great gasps that never alleviated the burning of my lungs
Or the way pins and needles tingled down my limbs.
My brain cells were consumed with desire to force O2 to bind with the red blood cells churning in my veins.
The air surrounding me was dense with particles that refused to aid my survival,
No matter how much effort I exerted to the contrary.
Sweat dripped off my too thin form and pallid skin
As I drowned slowly from the inside out in a room full of doctors
Until they finally placed the tube back into my throat to breathe for me.
The pain receded as oxygen raced back into my cells,
And I marveled for a moment at the fact that I could not feel myself breathing,
Couldn't feel the rise or fall of my chest.
The mark of my vitality was absent,
And yet,
I was very much alive.
I remember what it was to be truly breathless,
The blind panic that seized me before finally giving way to a wish for death.
It's because of this I hope love never empties my lungs.
I want a love that makes breathing feel safe and exciting,
A love that feels so gloriously alive that I am acutely aware of my chest rising.
Love should always make breathing feel like both a right and a privilege.
It is a privilege to love her and be in her presence.
But I hope she never leaves me breathless.
Apr 25, 2021
Apr 25, 2021 at 6:25 PM UTC
I am not a worthless *****
Stop treating me like one.
I am not an unsuccessful, lazy person.
Stop treating me like one.
I am not a snotty *****
Stop treating me like one.
I am not a stupid know-it-all.
Stop treating me like one.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
Words run down rutty cheeks and phrases pour out of ears and snotty clauses pool on a top lip. A sleeping lizard with tough skin fills the mouth with a little bit of space for the foot propped up against the molars in the back. Some magnificent ******** can part their jaws to let cascades of magnificent sense pass from them. This unfortunate individual, however, cannot stream any quips out of the correct orifice. If some promising witticism manages to squeeze past the big fat iguana under that palate then the bitter thing would flick at the uvula with its tail and the witty remark would be gagged out in the most broken form it could possibly take. The lie it cultivates is that everything inside is at least a little embarrassing. Desperately romanticising about growing a soft, lizard-less mouth must somehow cure the hard working mute someday. Because what the hell else is there to do when one needs to be undaunted and well-spoken?
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
Rile, you of the critic poets,
at this disregard, which mocks
your sense of propriety
regarding entitlement.
Even you, few stuck-up poets,
must feel the edge of your lip
twitch, turning sharp corners round,
leaning to spy grotesque calm.
Nose through as you would, higher poets,
you shall find no garbage here,
within what space you can sniff.
You snotty few can't complain.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
Oh daffodil, you are not what I had hoped for
but you are alright now. Do not weep,
and please, do not wilt on me,
this fertilizer is a necessary evil, to devour
your bad things
in a basin, or howling at the moon –
dogs you left empty-bowelled,
sunken as a level cloth in the rain, still fat
but darker than smoke haze at dusk
not better of what mothers feed the precious
stuck, and stinking sons. I love men, I do,
just not the boys I have been handed
in their snotty noses, copepod backpacks &
bandanas for the laboratory. Promise, though
to make chloroform for your head
as if the sun could slap your eardrums,
what wonder would it be! A yellow plague,
bit the toenails of your baby’s feet,
said to injure petals among tall, lusting slopes,
hope you will die as a blonde woman,
and dye, daffodil, goodbye.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 7:27 PM UTC
Working at the amusement park is a grand old time.
There’s nothing like having to hide
In the ticket booth when you wanna smoke a joint
So your boss doesn’t find out and fire you.
Every ride has bright, multicolored lights
And this is how I waste my time away.
The closest bathroom is half a mile away,
Those Porta-Johns are full all the time
And always smell like Marlboro Lights
It’s where those teen brats like to hide.
A kid always asks for another toy gun from you
And immediately bends it all out of joint.
Jocks, barbies and snotty kids mill around this joint,
Throwing all their money away
Buying more and more tickets from you
Screaming, complaining, cheating all the time
And there’s no good place to hide
With all these obnoxious lights.
They’re poor substitute for big city lights,
They only illuminate this cheesy joint,
Don’t even let ***** gutters hide—
I’m surprised they don’t want to look away.
Cotton candy disappears in your mouth every time,
But you think it’s worth it, don’t you?
The only boy who ever liked you
Works across the park, beyond the lights,
But you miss him waving at you every time
Because some skeez is yelling, “Let’s blow this joint!”
And a mom drags her eight kids away
Screaming, “One more word and I’ll tan your hide!”
Why do the five-year-olds always play hide
And seek in the Fun House? “Hey, you!”
Where the hell are your parents? Go away!”
Finally Anna, who manages mini golf, lights
A gloriously white-papered little joint
And we smoke until closing time.
This is where I hide, and yet these lights
Are poor substitutes you know, for home, the joint
You tried to get away from, before you wasted your time.
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 7:19 PM UTC
1. Chew 3 pieces of Grape Hubba Bubba at the same time.
2. Wash your car in the rain in your bathing suit.
3. Walk in and out of a store over and over again just to be greeted
repetitively. (this works best at Racetrak and Cici's Pizza)
4. Wear comfortable clothes.
5. Stop caring what you look like.
6. Sing loudly in your car without any music (even at redlights), with your
windows rolled down.
7. Swing, for heaven's sake, swing at the playground.
8. Be nice to everyone, even the snotty retail girl.
9. Go to a church where every Sunday the hairs stand up on your arms
because you feel the presence of GOD.
10. Visit an old cemetery and just sit for a while.
11. Say "I love you" at the end of every phone call, especially to the bill
collectors.
12. Play a video game with your kids, just so they can laugh at how bad you
are.
13. Go without underwear one day.
14. Read Pope and the Bible.
15. Once a month eat whatever you want and however much of it you want.
16. Work out.
17. Snuggle with the warm body of someone who loves you.
18. Let a dog lick your face. (it's really not that bad)
19. Call a random number just to say "hi" to the person who answers.
20. Be yourself so others can know who you truly are.
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 3:44 PM UTC
**Bought poetry magazine;
It's in English...
I do not know if my inability to understand the poems comes from not fully understanding the language, or because I am a not-well-read-ass.**
*He comprado una revista de poemas;
Está en inglés...
No sé si mi incapacidad por entender los poemas proviene de no comprender completamente el idioma o porque soy un asnito que no ha leído lo suficiente en su vida.*
I thought Café Americano would translate into American Coffee or just Coffee, but it does not, it is still Café Americano (but I have to order it with a snotty accent to be understood).
Pensé que Café Americano se traduciría a American Coffee o sólo a café, pero no, sigue llamándose Café Americano (sólo que tengo debo pedirlo con un acento mamoncito para que me entiendan).
**Now, secondary characters in my dreams speak English.
They say naughty word;
But in this language I am not disturb,
Thanks to the my access to american and british media, I am numb.**
*Ahora, los personajes secundarios de mis sueños hablan inglés.
Dicen palabritas sucias;
Pero en este idioma no me perturbo,
Gracias a mis años de ver porquerías en el cine, la T.V. e internet, estoy acostumbrada.*
Taco Bell's Spicy Chicken Enchilada Platter
No puedo evitar desearlo cada que lo veo anunciado, y siento que es traición a mi patria.
lol
ji ji ji
LOL
JA JA JA
1 dollar
15.10 pesos.
Wow
Puta madre.
One pomegranate, $2.50
Una granada, $37.75
No pomegranates for me, thank you
Puta madre.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 11:49 AM UTC
Writers can be so snotty sometimes
They think they're so clever with their rhymes
They employ obscure words
the way armies deploy a specialized force
pedantic, pretentious, affected on some insufferable plagiarized course
Their wit a mired ploy to be perceived as bright
not so much to share knowledge
but to be the one that's right
vaingloriousness cripples the honesty in script
and another puzzled reader
reads between the lines of a message adrift
people twist things to their advantage
skew the facts to fit the page
shrug it off as a necessity of the modern age
most do it, few will notice
if they do they'll say it's a mistake
deadlines howl, time grates like a rake
truth is incidental when words are fake
another American madman goes berserk with a gun on a spree
perfect timing for the rollout of Grand Theft Auto 3
Don't worry little directors of death and mayhem
You've no culpability in the land of the free
causality is just some unprovable notion
you're safe and sound from any legal motion
exculpatory mitigation is your right as an 'artist'
'till the sorry day you eat the gun
the eventual price you'll pay for your sick wicked fun
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
A small one remembers
fingers taut and ***** rounded,
Smiles evened, amongst quickened hands-
Effective carrot peelers, snotty nose healers,
Heavy duty wrappers, cloaked in corporate
knowledge of dog breeds, how to clean your ears,
stain removal, vegetable purging tricks,
fairies, bus schedules on rainy days;
Full of mud pie ideas, bustled
in tidy makings of reading and feeding.
Oct 25, 2009
Oct 25, 2009 at 2:30 PM UTC
The mums at nursery like me.
They are reassured by dark rings beneath my eyes,
blue jeans, clean-scrubbed smile, pulled back hair.
A soul more boring and more tired-
Just knowing I exist makes them feel better.
Not today:
Today I’m wearing make-up.
And my shorts are, well, short
which I think is against the rules.
My hair shines like a barley sugar sweet
and my finger nails sparkle
like long forgotten jewels.
Today I dodge dressing-up hats, snotty noses, spilt milk,
play-dough, paint and mud-puddle splats
with practiced precision.
Today, just this once, when I give mums their children back,
I look more together and more stylish than them.
I run home, cross busy roads in record time,
wave to total strangers who want to say hello.
I get the polish off my nails,
scrub my face under the shower,
dry my hair, pull it back,
grab yesterday’s jeans and baggy sweater.
He returns from work and asks:
Did you have a good day?
I think:
*Yes. Yes **** it. Yes I did.*
Do you know-
my eyes are pretty, and I can get into shorts
I wore ten years ago?
Stop traffic - check.
Turn heads - hell yeah!
The roofer down the road nearly fell and broke his neck.
Your wife is, without a doubt, a ********* **** thing.*
So many words, like popping candy on my tongue.
I imagine his reaction.
I shut my mouth.
Danger passes.
But lies won’t come. Mouth’s gone dry.
I swallow back the truth then feel like I’m gonna gag.
Panic rising in my chest on top of bile.
Then:
My day was fine
I say. Just that.
My day was fine
And I am saved.
Oct 14, 2011
Oct 14, 2011 at 3:08 PM UTC
Dumb *** *****
I laugh at your misery.
Subtle is not your style.
I look in your stupid eyes and see you are up to no good.
You're a wild *****
Misunderstood by the world? Hardly!
Try sleeping around you when I was tired.
You blew your snotty nose on my pillow case.
Your ***** smelled like nasty perfume.
like the scent of a dead tuna fish.
My nose smelled you nasty *****
When I smelled your rotting *****
I puked for days.
Take a bath you nasty stinking *****
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
I'd rather watch the unevenly tall grass sway in an awkwardly flimsy wind
Than watch Jerry Orbach monotonously crawl his manicured tongue to an acting Deputy
"There goes my beauty sleep."
Or watch Ricky and Bubbles scribble words in the air over **** jugs and cement a post-modern cynicism of the world as a great big piece of trailer trash.
I'd rather watch the moisture accumulate on the synthetic brown border between wall and roof in an overcast runny-nose rain
So I guess what I'm saying is
Television took my vision
So I took my vision back.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
One has to speak their language - Cats
a snotty, snooty breed
Don't try to tell them what to do
Don't get them down when they are treed
They'll come down when they want to
when they hear the opening whirr
where can opener meets cat food
they'll walk out of that tree as if it wasn't there
and swish their tail as if to say
"it's nothing"
But, Oh, the softest love they have
when on your lap they softly purr
or stroking all that silky fur
and all the stress of passing days
so soon becomes a milky haze
and flys away, forgotten now
She loves you dear, there is no doubt
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
The world is a pattern
In my eyes.
Bigheads full of water,
And tongues that’s tied.
The world is a pattern,
And I can’t keep up with it.
Everything is the same,
It’s like looking at black and white swirls with
Different names.
My mind is confused,
And my heart is just screaming.
My *** is over boiled with hot water that’s
Steaming.
The steam blurs my eyes
From those filthy lies
That I deceive,
Is fulfilled to take away my needs,
Leaving me skinless with
No deeds.
I pray to God to keep the
Confusion away,
But something always seems to
Happened my way.
What can I do?
Where can I start?
I begin to lose my memory
That’s why I have it written
On a chart.
My heartless soul,
Filled with black blood,
Red eyes, and
Evil art.
I see the cross hidden.
I see it in the background
Blended in with a few others,
But I’m not focused
Because I’m ducking and dodging
The cutters.
My life consist on abuse,
And bad temper that fuse.
I’m like a snotty nose kid,
Empty and
Confused.
-Marci H.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
Coughing up the phlegm
I've come to realize, this big surprise
no longer can I keep it to myself
Stuff like this can grow inside the body
and it's snotty
but you need to know the facts now for yourself.
and if the sputum's yellow,
be assured that it is viral
but can spiral
into something worse
a curse or so they say
so take the time to rest
and yes,
drink water and some juice
and for a boost,
vitamin C, 1000 mgs
just twice a day.
and by all means
take your cold to Walgreen, Eckerts, CVS, or Rite Aid,
where there's medicines that might aid and I might add
many brands that you can choose from~
Robitussin stops your fussin'
Advil Sinus for your highness,
by and far my favored Nyquil night-time
is the stuff I get my snooze from
if you've got a fever and it's green
you're infected, should be seen
do not delay if it is grey
or other colors of the day
because these bugs are nasty
downright mean!
cozy up with Vicks upon your chest
mentholatum tends to clear the passage best
a little dab will also do
beneath the nares it is true
external balms and lotions help you rest.
a clean humidifier by the bed
keeps the moisture in your tissues
and that said
keep a box of Kleenex near
the softest kind will feel most dear
and place your favorite pillow 'neath your head.
It's good to keep some chicken soup on hand
it's value has been known throughout the land
keep the heat on, be a ***** and
and crack the window just a pinch
and try to sleep as much as you can stand.
in time you will recover from this hell
your symptoms will subside and you can tell
but be sure to keep your guard up,
avoid crowds
and don't be hard up,
just insist they keep their distance,
and stay well!
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 9:44 AM UTC
yes,
i look like my mother.
but i feel the need to remind you
with a swift chair to the face
(i think that'll get the point across, don't you?)
that i look very much like my father.
i don't give a single ****
what your last name is
that you're my mom's
cousin
you can shove that snotty
backhanded
comment
up your ***
mitchell.
i have no relation
to that name
despite my blood
despite my nose
that looks so much like your side
you are not one side of a family
you are one side of a war
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC
Perhaps it's the way his colostomy bag hangs
off his waist like John Wayne's pistol in Rio Bravo,
or the trail of **** left when it ripped last Monday
from his chair to the refrigerator.
He must have noticed,
he turned right and filled the sink with feces
and called over the nurse.
She pioneered along the trail,
and fit him with a new bag.
More **** oozed
through the tube
filling a fresh bag.
I sat there and licked
my nasal drip into my lips,
hoping the sparkle of my snotty glossy shine
would catch your eye,
like your favorite **** rag
in a line up of church bulletins.
The putrid lavender like scent
swimming through the air like flying fish,
allows me to dream
quicker than any drug.
I dream of the day where we both lay naked
with our old wrinkled skin connected like praying hands
where your feces and ***** flow freely to fill in epidermic gaps.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:16 PM UTC
See the young one's shining face
Freshly joined the human race
Chubby cheeks and wrinkled ***
Flailing arms and little tum
A life of learning lays ahead
But rest for now your weeny head
What this miracle will be, who knows
With his tiny hands and feet and snotty nose
Stop your mewling now be calm
You're coming to no harm
I'll hold you for a little while
Although your shrieks do cause alarm
Why choose now, oh little one
To exercise those fearsome lungs
And then projectile squirt
Green ***** on my nice clean shirt
I'll hand you back, you look much better
In your mother's arms
I feel I am immune alas
To your supposed charms
Quiet now, would I hold?
If you don't mind I will refrain
If I may be so bold
Left with an odour, a downright smell
I must confess
I don't do babies very well
What relief, they've gone away
Give me a dog any day
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 12:51 PM UTC