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A Thomas Hawkins Jul 2011
Its ***** to be deep,
be honest, be true.
It ***** to be me,
and stuck on you.

It ***** not because,
how you made me feel.
It ***** just because,
to me it was real.

It ***** that you lied,
and made me believe,
that you and I could,
together be free.

It ***** not because,
of the man in your life,
or that you sleep apart,
no longer his wife.

It just ***** because,
for the very last time,
I trusted you with,
this heart that was mine.
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
All of the time I hear how Poetry *****
In grandiose all knowing articles,
Fahey shouts it from the big stage
Poetry *****
Like a ***** out in the neighborhood,
Like a vacuum,
Like depression on the state of the human race
Poetry *****
Now they bury her again, and again
Poetry dead with a single ice pick hole
Naked her porcelain, translucent skin
Glowing in the moonlight
Her beautiful naked body covered in blood
A nook crammed up her ***
Poetry *****
In a World of image without substance
Poetry *****
In a World of snake oil businessmen
Poetry *****
I go to coffee shops
And crazy empty bars to hear her
I so rarely find her anymore
Poetry *****
I still host readings in her name
Poetry *****
I read tens of thousands of
Submissions for free
Just so that I can find her
And create something beautiful
Poetry *****
I have traveled from city to city
To see her
& I know where her heart is
I know who my kin are
Poetry *****
Under a generic blanket of PC niceness
With no soul
Poetry *****
As I read & create it
Poetry doesn’t ****
People do
I saw her get up and walk away
From the whole scene
She wakes me up at four thirty in the morning
& ***** the **** out of me
Poetry doesn’t ****
People do
Aric Wheeler May 2013
Our eco-friendly toothbrushes sit together in the cup on the counter but today I didn’t brush my teeth. The snow is great. Want to know why, because the snow doesn’t give a **** how anybody else feels and it doesn’t ***** its feelings all over twitter. The snow knows that nobody cares.

The snow never says “anyways” or “whatever” or “oh god”  and the snow doesn’t undermine what I have to say. The snow is cold and it *****, but at least it doesn’t question me. It doesn’t ask me if I need space. Nope. It just keeps snowing.

The snow and I are on good terms. It isn’t polite and it doesn’t try to be anything that it is not. It doesn’t cook barley with kale and it definitely doesn’t pretend to like it.
Cedric McClester Jan 2016
By: Cedric McClester

He was king of disco back then
When they thought it would never end
But I’m afraid it did my friend
And this was the message that got sent
Something like a distant cousin
Disco ***** all of a sudden
When dance music had ‘em buzzin
Hip or cool it just wasn’t

Disco *****
Was what they said
It got classified
Among the dead
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
That’s what happens
When things go bust

What it spelled was
Gloom and doom
He was no longer
The hippest person in the room
Chic stopped being au curant
He couldn’t get seated in a restaurant
Like he used to at l’enfant
He was no longer everyone’s confidant

Disco *****
Was what they said
It got classified
Among the dead
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
That’s what happens
When things go bust

Yesterday it was all the rage
When suddenly they turned
Another page
Call it dance music
Or new age
The monkey just broke
Out of his cage

Disco *****
Was what they said
It got classified
Among the dead
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
That’s what happens
When things go bust

He was king of disco back then
When they thought it would never end
But I’m afraid it did my friend
And this was the message that got sent
Something like a distant cousin
Disco ***** all of a sudden
When dance music had ‘em buzzin
Hip or cool it just wasn’t







011316cm
B M Clark Apr 2015
Body image *****.

Let me tell you something,
It may surprise you but I hope not.
Body image *****.
For everyone.

Not just big girls,
Hell not even just girls,
Everyone feel this.

I weigh 140 lbs.
I. Feel. Too. Fat.
When I weighed 115 lbs.
I. Felt. Too. Thin.

Body image *****.
Help.
Us.
We need to feel pretty again.
Mike Hauser Sep 2018
Being a girl *****! :(
I'm one big ball of emotion
Being tossed back and forth
On the waves of this female ocean

Just when I say I'm doing okay
Another tsunami comes along
Washing away the sanity I saved
Swept out to sea, it's gone

Being a girl *****! :(
All the makeup that we wear
Who are we trying to impress anyways
And do those jerks out there really care

All they do is treat me like a piece of meat
With desert on the side
Would you like some tears with that
It doesn't take much these days to make me cry

Being a girl *****! :(
With some of the things we have to wear
This over the shoulder boulder holder
Wasn't built for comfort that's for sure

And is it already that time of month again
I've about had it with these cramps
If I hear another man explain my mood to me
I swear I'm going to reach up and pull his tongue out through his...

Being a girl *****! :(
But one thing that I can say
It sure as heck beats being a man
Where stupidity always gets in the way
Paula Swanson Oct 2010
The rat smells the air, squeaks in alarm and runs off.  
Black boots come into view.  With the sharp tip of a sword.
I crouch in the dark, behind the bins of *******.

The boots walk on by.  The sword, poking into corners.  
All the while, eyes of glowing red, within deep sockets
of a musty old skull, scan for signs.

I look at my hands.  The festered and rotting flesh.
My bones showing through.  The stench unbearable.
Glad my nose fell off last night.

The timing was off.  It was just a little sneeze.
PLOP!  Right in my gruel.  
Every one at school laughed.
Skeleton Puberty *****!


And now, Dad is mad.  Just cause I waxed the hearse
and didn't use "Ear Wax".  You could hear him rattle
all day.  What's wrong with the "Toe Jam Wax"?

Wait till I catch sis.  She went and showed mom my
mags.  "Raw!  Boo To The Bones".  I'll bet dad had
mags like these when he was a teenager.

They have good stories.  The pics are just a bone-us.
I think it's safe now.  I'll just sneak into the house.
Just sit and look innocent.

How did you find me?
A whole trail of pieces?  Sheesh!
I know.  I'm grounded.  Not for the wax job?
The Mags!?.
Skeleton puberty *****.



My Halloween offering for Oct. 12th
lolla Dec 2013
***** to see women with men drooling over em.
***** when it happens and they play the field.
***** when it never happens to me.
I want love, I want my happily after, why not me?
***** when women can't just pick a man
So the rest of us who WANT love can get men.
***** to read and makes me sick not to be
A lady with men drooling over her.
Why do men want a woman who is scared of love?
That's dumb not to want to date men who want
To date
The truth is the truth *****
I rather a lie,
Living forever sounds better
Than everybody dies

Cause the truth is the
Truth *****, so just lie
Say you'll see me soon
Even if it's a final good bye

Similar to parents lies
About a kids Xmas gift
Cause more enchanting
Is the idea that Santa exists

Good old st nick
Catholics have it best
Cause heaven sounds good
As no one wants death

Like mutual break ups
Everyone knows ain't mutual
Tell the ugly duckling that
One day she will be beautiful
Tell tall tales of Atlantis
Or a fountain of youth
Tell Pinocchio he's a real boy
....Anything but the truth

Toothfairys for a tooth
Easters famous  bunny
Tell Christopher Robbin no delusion
Made Winnie the pooh eating honey

Cause in truth it's funny
The truth ain't that funny
Say the best things in life are
Free and we need no money

Cause everyday is sunny
Who u love will love u back
Family and best friends will
Never never ever stab u in the back

tell me my career wont match
my social status and ill en-devour
the same respect as a rich man
tell me love is forever

And if not it ends without pain
and will tell everyone its mutual...
Tell the ugly duckling that soon.....
soon.....it will be beautiful.....

but the truth is
The truth ***** so I'll pretend
This is just the poems beginning cuz
good things don't come to an end....

...But The truth is....
...the truth *****....
Mike Hauser Oct 2013
Being a girl *****! :(
I'm one big ball of emotion
Being tossed back and forth
On the waves of this female ocean

Just when I say I'm doing okay
Another tsunami comes along
Washing away the sanity I saved
Swept out to sea, it's gone

Being a girl *****! :(
All the makeup that we wear
Who are we trying to impress anyways
And do those jerks out there really care

All they do is treat me like a piece of meat
With desert on the side
Would you like some tears with that
It doesn't take much these days to make me cry

Being a girl *****! :(
With some of the things we have to wear
This over the shoulder boulder holder
Wasn't built for comfort that's for sure

And is it already that time of month again
I've about had it with these cramps
If I hear another man explain my mood to me
I swear I'm going to reach up and pull his tongue out through his...

Being a girl *****! :(**
But one thing that I can say
It sure as heck beats being a guy
Where stupidity always gets in the way
I saw this moniker on a friends "kik" site and being a guy had to wonder just what it is that ***** about being a girl.
This of course is from a "REAL" mans perspective...I could be wrong.
I'll shut up now before I get myself in more trouble...
Oh...did I mention I'm a "REAL man?  I did?  
Just making sure...
Gary Jul 2014
Poetry *****!
It shows my vulnerability!
It shows my compassion,  my understanding.

Poetry *****!
It let's others like you know I am human.
It shows you I'm sensitive,
And come with not only my arms, but also my defenses down.

Poetry *****!
Even at my weakest times,
Even while completely open.
My strengths shine through,
Showing my real side,
Darkness and light, that I just can't subside.
Natasha Dec 2017
it ***** missing you
it ***** going home alone
it ***** knowing you may read this
or even more, that you won't.

I miss the nights I'd fall asleep
in front of the tv on your chest
it ***** I'll never see you smile
or stroke your hair in rest.

it ***** that my heart is breaking.
when I don't feel it, merely postponed
at night it comes creeping
or if I'm ever alone.

I miss you.
I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be.

I'm sorry that I failed you,
and that in turn, I failed me.

I'm just not cut out for this
I knew I'd push you away
I knew I'd always run
even if I wanted to stay.

I'm just afraid.
Afraid, of falling too deep
of failure itself,
yet fallen and failed, I weep.

Over happiness and sadness
of things left unsaid,
of everything we shared,
and whose taking my spot in your bed.

And all those memories circling inside
my little ****** up head
I'm sorry that I broke us,
and that inside I'm dead.
Mike Hauser Jun 2016
Being a girl *****! :(
I'm one big ball of emotion
Being tossed back and forth
On the waves of this female ocean

Just when I say I'm doing okay
Another tsunami comes along
Washing away the sanity I saved
Swept out to sea, it's gone

Being a girl *****! :(
All the makeup that we wear
Who are we trying to impress anyways
And do those jerks out there really care

All they do is treat me like a piece of meat
With desert on the side
Would you like some tears with that
It doesn't take much these days to make me cry

Being a girl *****! :(
With some of the things we have to wear
This over the shoulder boulder holder
Wasn't built for comfort that's for sure

And is it already that time of month again
I've about had it with these cramps
If I hear another man explain my mood to me
I swear I'm going to reach up and pull his tongue out through his...

Being a girl *****! :(
But one thing that I can say
It sure as heck beats being a guy
Where stupidity always gets in the way
I saw this moniker on a friends "kik" site and being a guy had to wonder just what it is that ***** about being a girl.
This of course is from a "REAL" mans perspective...I could be wrong.
I'll shut up now before I get myself in more trouble...
Oh...did I mention I'm a "REAL man?  I did?  
Just making sure...
Jack Sep 2014
My poetry *****



I’m so tired of writing

My fingers are sore

My poetry *****

I’m becoming a bore



Sticking a verse

In front of your face

Oozing with love

All over the place



Creamsicle colors

Metaphors thick

Wasting your time

Making you sick



Finding a title

Spending the time

Just like this poem

Something to rhyme



Or it could be free-verse…

Drifting on metallic clouds in copper spoons

dreaming in patterns of silhouette shadows

and my foot falls asleep



Maybe a Senryu



Read at your own risk

Dumb crap being written here

***** bags needed



Perhaps a Haiku



Softly floats the bird

Atop morning glory skies

**** thing **** on me



Or a Tanka, a Sonnet

A Villanelle or an Assterring

The last one is nothing

I made up the **** thing



So you see I’m no poet

Least not anymore

For what you are seeing

Is what you abhor



And I’m not complaining

Not here on this screen

My pen is on empty

I’m ready to leave



I’m so tired of writing

My fingers are sore

My poetry *****

I’m becoming a bore
Robert Guerrero Mar 2013
Its always "**** you"
Or "**** me"
My poetry *****
Really it does
I have no rational reason
To continue to write
What is the point of this anymore
I dont touch any lives
I barely can look at my work
I never reread it
Its all useless to me now
My poetry *****
Seriously
Who even takes the time to read
This pathetic *** **** anymore
I was just a trend
A disease to this site
***** it
My poetry *****
Maybe I should quit
I will never amount to anything
My words will take me nowhere
So yeah my poetry *****
I had my run
I had my time
To shine and bask in my misery
Oh well
Later my fellow poets
Val Chavez Jun 2015
It kinda ***** to be hispanic.

Because apparently,
my ***** tastes like salsa.

and my calves are not strong as a result of exercise,
it’s because I’m hauling pounds of marijuana across the borders.

and I’m automatically dumb,

you know your people have been brainwashed when even they start to believe that they’re dumb.

that’s what I learned when the Mexican girl next to me in math class leaned over to me and said,

“You’re really smart for one of us.”

if a white woman has my skin color, it’s beautiful.

when my naturally tan skin is pictured, i’m now wearing “too much bronzer.”

I’m a fake.

I “don’t belong in this country.”

Because my ancestors looked up to this country as a place of refuge and stability, but I tend to disagree,

I gotta leave now?

Take a moment and live in my home. Live in my country. Know how my life works.

And then tell me oppression isn’t a thing.
just how it is.
Arlo Disarray Oct 2016
Me at 7- "being a kid *****."

Me at 10- "being a tween *****."

Me at 14- "being a teenager *****."

Me at 20- "being an adult *****."

Me at 25- "being *****."
Terry Collett Jan 2014
Lizbeth *****
her finger
imagines

it belongs
to the boy
Benedict

with eyes closed
savouring
each flavour

part salty
vinegar
(having ate

fish and chips
earlier)
tomato

of ketchup
the red thrills
***** deeper

whole mouthfuls
of finger
thinking on

that church pew
old dark wood
where they could

but didn't
have made love
she ***** slow

finger length
the painted
finger nail

salty still
each flavour
so distinct

even in
her chosen
warm darkness

of closed eyes
she passes
over both

her knuckles
warm wet skin
imagines

so hotly
between thighs
him within.
GIRL AND BOY LOVE IN 1961.
Cindy Le Feb 2015
People hate being rejected
When you ask someone out in a date and they say no
Or when you go in for an interview
And look your best
You want the job so badly
And they say they'll call
But never do
You hate it

Or when you get rejected from ***
Yes ***
Guys get rejected
And it *****
But when a girl gets rejected
It's like a contraption of pain and mixed emotions going through you

You stumble
And cry and think
Did I do something wrong?
Am I not good looking enough for you?
Are you bored of me?
I don't turn you on anymore?
What's wrong with me?

Even if I'm fully naked and on top of you
You say no
Geeze isn't that what you always wanted?
Me naked
Showing off my skin
My body to you
Instead of wearing a shirt or bra
You told me before that you rather have me naked
And on you
Now that I finally did that
Nothing happens?
You lightly push me off and say I'm to tired?
Geeze all that work for nothing ?
I built up my confidence just to do that you know?

It *****
Rejection *****
And I'm here laying in bed right next to you... Naked
Some guy would be happy to lay next to a girl naked
They would caress my body and ****** me
They would have the best time of there life
But all I want is you
Just you
Making sweet love to me

What does a girl have to do to get some satisfaction around here ??
Honestly...
Ronald J Chapman Feb 2016
War ***** and fighting *****.
Why can't people party all night?

The world is a crazy place.
All I want to is dance the night away,
But my life is full of spiders and snakes.

I wonder when it will end?

You want Queen Seondeok of Silla,
You want Kim Yuna of Korea,

But all I see is the devil's rage.
Oh! The devil's rage.
Oh! War and fighting, they'll destroy this beautiful place,
Drain our lives of Love and wonder.

War ***** and fighting *****.
Why can't people party all night?
The world is a wild place.
All I want to is dance the day away,

But my life is full of spiders and snakes hiding under rocks.

I really want the world to end,
Goodbye Queen Seondeok of Silla,
Goodbye Kim Yuna of Korea,

And good riddance to the devil's rage.
Oh! The devil's rage.

Oh! War and fighting, will bury us under falling mushroom dust,
Drain our lives of Love and wonder.

War ***** and fighting *****.
The world is out of control,
All I want to do is plant new Hope in dry Souls,
But my life is full of spiders and snakes hiding under rocks.

Your life doesn't have to end.
Sing a song of hope with Queen Seondeok of Silla,
Sing the song of "Arirang."

Dance with Queen Kim Yuna of Korea on Ice,
And put a curse on devil's rage.
Oh, the devil's rage.

Your life is hard and filled with hatred,
But don't care? Get out and dance.

Follow the sunrise to your destination.
Leave the war and fighting behind,

Plant new Hope!

You want the greatest thing,
The biggest thing since becoming a poet.
You've got it all; you've got the world in your hands,

If you are confused, check with Arirang.
Carry a pen to help you along.

Get out and dance,
On the dance floors of the world.

Copyright © 2016 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

Arirang Special M60-Sorea Band  Arirang
https://youtu.be/iS6V1M6xuXc
Yuna Kim - Arirang Alone Montage
https://youtu.be/A9Mt_IeB3Fo
Alan W Jankowski Dec 2011
Grandpa sits in his favorite chair,
Spots his granddaughter and starts to stare,
Whips out his **** and starts to stroke,
He knows it’s his granddaughter he wants to poke,
Calls her over and says, “Pretty please.”
Come on granddaughter get on your knees,
She does as she’s told and ***** him with zest,
Because she knows ****** is best.

Uncle Roy decides to give it a whirl,
He likes to dress his nephew up as a girl,
Likes to see him in silk and lace,
Lipstick and makeup on his face,
Imagining him with heels on his feet,
As he sits there and starts to stroke his meat,
He’d love to put him to the test,
Because he knows ****** is best.

Mother decides to get in on the act,
Her and her son have a special pact,
While her husbands at work she gets in his bed,
Pulls down his pants and starts giving him head,
Son likes his mom dressed up in her lace,
As he shoots his load all over her face,
He knows his mom is better than the rest,
Because he knows ****** is best.

Sister and brother are a special pair,
It’s more than a last name these two share,
Brother Bill can’t believe his luck,
Having a sister that likes to ****,
Says, “Hey Sis, come on over here.”
As he bends her over and takes her rear,
Going at it like animals it becomes a real fuckfest,
Because they both know ****** is best.

Father can’t believe his daughter is so kind,
She’s on her knees as he takes her behind,
She moans and screams and starts to cry,
Says, “Hey Daddy, you’re my kind of guy.”
Daddy tells her ****** is the better way,
It’s a game the whole family can play,
Daddy treats his daughter like an honored guest,
Because they both know ****** is best.

11-27-09b.
Far and away my most read poem, except perhaps my 9-11 Tribute thingy...this poem gets well over 1000 views per month on one ****** story site alone...and yes, it's done with more than a hint of humor...the line "******, a game the whole family can play" is something a friend of mine used to say back in high school...:)
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Axt would I, I sed yah soyam

Signing a song played in the white noise that surrounds me

nights like these past 7043,

Who chounted en chant em, enchantemgood

So no we are at what is a befinning place.
beginning (90's too ****, U2 too Northern Euro,
Green Day, Coolio,
Noise to a message dying to be heard
welcome to another
imaginary garden in an ever expanding mind

field of unthinkable things,
back then

we have whiteout but it doesn't work here

My culture had near simultaneous eruptions of supermarkets

and Fords.

This guy, his culture had near simultaneus disruptions of progress and
interruptions of information
some os were lost in the middle synchrony
instance if I cationic plus or minus
simaltan

Oh, I get it. You, dear reader, have been
out of it.
We went public with the entire plan for public
key distribution,
through six palanced stacks of energy stores

Chakra, chi, science make ya think eh. Polarize, see

everything groovy --no
[contemprayery idle intense ify AI keep us current]

lie, good, no lie is always safe. Don't wanna stumble any souls.

I was mentioned, my being a speaker in a story, I was said
to have said something, upon a time,
on the cover of the Rolling Stone,

I witnessed a lie being told and said my ears weren't garbage cans,
like a brainwashed cult

no, **** I was a cultivated follower of a confessed
follower cultivator.

I bloom when I imagine being treated as a mushroom,
I never paid much attention,
I never felt
insane
but
I can imagine
wee whatifs crept in… aha

The Olde Deluder, Satan, Act

that, a tiny gleam, a single ATP gone ADP

but there was light. A story I lived is now being told
without me,
oy vey Jah knowaddamean.

There was a wiseman, who,
by his wis-dom saved a city, and no one knew
that same wiseman's name,

proverbs are intentional games, the rules,
hiding a thing, done by God, glory ifies him
seeking out a matter, done by a being translated king,
transmutes that seeking into honor

Honor is hard to compare to the war flavored twists,
knots and tangles where woof and warp held

long long long before war was imagined, honor was.

A medal of honor for valor, what does it mean?

Leonard Wood got one. For his part in solving
the Apache problem.
He also,

Flash I had my wires crossed, in a way, it may
enlighten.
You see, I had thought that I had read Leonard Wood,
be cause I had imagined he was in New Jersey, but that
was Lord Amherst, Jeff

He tweerted ( wrote in a letter on paper we've a fact simile):
"to try Every other method that can serve to Extirpate this Execrable Race."

From <https://www.umass.edu/legal/derrico/amherst/lord_jeff.html>

Could be the source of the whole shores of triple ease retirement lure/trap/moneymoneymoney makeit fakit

I asked once, who's to blame and whose to blame,
samesame came an answer, I sware, quick as

next, twixt being and being possible,

realize

we do change things, in time, which,

if we can agree, is limited for us,
to now, no thens behind

mere, mere, mere ifs and whens ahead

be

--so there's been music all along
life's the song

skip a decade, like skippin' a grade

grad Harvard at a prepubescent 12

If I had a Hammer time, one message

one valiant try to be will smith,

Live and Learn, old man, say the dude on the radio
in he's hammaheadphones, cain't touch

Bomb. Jesus lent me Jael's hammer,
radioman nailed it.

If I had a hammer was the prayer,

MC, he was the Godsmacked nail in the coffin

Dark inside gothish messages hurgle and gurgle
guts twisted in freak pride love hate list lust

dichotomies of choice in ever learning
good citizenship worth honor and glory

of the sort men dare to die for, facing darkness,
the NULL set ***** and ***** and *****

This ain't gravity tuggin me,
this is that monster who lives forever in top forty radio

When/then Radioman emerges, Like the Mighty Quinn from

deep beneath Gibson's darkest ever imagined ICE wall…

What's on? (ellipses, do those mean POV shift or selah?)

I forget, s still all alchemistry t'me, if allyagots ahammass,

realize, if it matters, t'me, bubble bustin' need no nail.

I gotti'd a hamma, gonna hamma in the moan

O.G., mighty man of valor, where'dyew arise from?

We, the integrated us, non autonomous, inarrogant
We were dancin' to that I'm a Loser, Baby

so why don't cha killme, knowwad i'msayin

This old man been wandern in the desert far far far
side the madding crowd
making minced
meet
broken spirit. we goin together to a re-pair place

at the center of you'n'all you know, yo bubble but

--- everlearning everclear outlawed, good lawed
--- moon shine spiritment lauded out loud
--- the world all ways works when a garden is

beyond the pale,
Irish
rye whiskey, wheat bread liqui
if I were an
old gay ninties guy drinking ***** laudnum
singin'

on the corner with the hourus girl's c

Making the Con Next Ion, watchathank,
is it The Nineties A to Z , ending wit, it’s a hard
knawks life, or

a Bohr-TED talk or
a video of Schrödinger's  
verdamte dead cat?

Or am I surrounded by so great acloud of witnesses that some times I spend

simply hummin' along, life's beat me to the ground,

which gladly,
I'm so glad, I'm glad, I'm glad which

loses its meaning if you never experienced such a fall
ending in absorption of it all.
Ginger Baker, slam that cymbal, CRASH1

Life, in every key, there's a clue. Some where,
there's a lock on a true thing we need

to, eventually, know all things.

Keywords lost givitawaygivitawaygit it back tenfo'

Black spirit-filled tongue talkin' grandpa friend of
Johnny Walker, Red not Black,

He challenged me ye see. I recall what was on TV.
Nixon sayin' he,
honest he,
anti-****** he,
bombin invadin he was Notacrook, the super hero
he imagined

Bio is building energy, all the time does is
test the effort.

Is life lived this way worth the effort?
if/then/else

Who chose, integrated me, all the masks and voices I have accepted as ideas that can have apiece of me.

BTW, kids, even if an angel of light asks you to take a little piece of my heart, don't

yer killin me and I know where the next story started,

you are lost without me, fretnot, I'm the way

I heard that, that's no claim I mist'tok as my response.

Deeper, are we absobbing any thing, deeper tincture
of time, t'me see

POV
SameYesTodayForever (SYTF) protocols have been in place, as far as we know,

since words made sense naturally, eons ago, at least.

If you want my future then forget my past
musing medium messages sayin

what the hell? A game, you sayin' life's a game?

Ja, was oder vice nicks versus universal soldier godlet

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

I woulda danced with wolves to have changed
one mind that followed me

beyond that point,
no return, is such a mortal POV, you see
as far as you cansee

Deep. the gem. all the meaning ever was was
in that gem.

Dare me for no reason? Is that reasonable,
ration my tears to test my mettle

I went mad in 1995, have I made that plain?
Things crumbled around me for ten years,

I was helped by hoping I knew a truth about those
manifested imaginary gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and the meaning og every mystery unknown to man

eh, say again
gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and the meaning OhGEE every mystery unknown to man

lies lies lies they all were lies lies lies lies

I told you so, and it is still sweet to say
you know

You heard it all before, greatest test story ever told.
That was no test.
this is.

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

Epic stories deserve more than mere words,
but, you know, click,

words are what we make things from.

Tell me your stories,
she woulda seemed to whisper, woulda drained me drownd me
in just if I'd love linked

to the money machine of your dreams

had I not rode the grey dog outa Nashville,
back in '82,

I'da missed seein' flyover country that feels like mine,
when I take this POV.
I wandered into a sattelite radio 90's A-Z, kinda like those histories of philosophies old people listen to when they're ******. Oh, the moonshine experiment worked, FYI
David Nelson Oct 2011
Bad News *****

I received news today that really really *****
although not totally unexpected I know
circumstances beyond our control is what we say
isn't that what we always say when we don't know

the end has come and the end has gone
and I sit her now searching for the truth
I mean a much deeper truth about you about me
should I be in search of a confessional booth

where I had settled into a way of acceptance
a spark emerged that breathed in new life
dancing had once again become real super cool
but part of the chorus removed with a carving knife

now the damage has been limited in part
and disaster control has taken an interest
the team will regroup and come here often
even though that might not really be the best

my mind will wander from time to time
past old McDill for the upteenth reoccurance
the object may one day be spotted found again
but I may have to accept total disappearance    

on to other projects I hope to fill me up
old baseball gloves and even some hockey pucks
but looks like another stretched and sprained ligament
dam all I can say is boy Bad News *****  

Gomer LePoet...
i just remembered when it all began to fall apart i was in mid-thirties weary of taking advantage of women i wanted to change grow become better person more compassionate find loving respectful relationship maybe marriage i knew i needed to step away stop

chicago 1985 Odysseus is a stranger to himself living someone else’s life does he really want what Mom Dad Chris want? is he lying to everyone else or himself? he snorts another line of ******* moves on to next girl in dizzy way he is having time of his life so much occasion to waste doors to open slam rooms to pass through “In the room the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo, and time yet for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions” thank you t.s. elliott his ****** liaisons carry on from several weeks to several months begin with him adoring some girl or she adoring him little fires that burn themselves out for his part infidelity is rarely in question instead typically he or she feels let down by some personal response or character trait and simply stops calling in actuality no girl ever bothers to stick around they follow his lead and evaporate his mind draws a blank he wonders what do girls want? Deep inside he knows nothing in life is greater than the love of a woman he would have liked all those girls to be just one girl but she is missing where is she? occasionally he will run into one of his ex-lovers on street she wears an expression that hints why didn’t you phone me back? why did you stop calling? he suspects she is playing victim in self-satisfying charade in fact Odysseus crosses into new territory it is difficult to go back he hones his edge no longer is he wonder-stuck child possessed by curiosity for girls he requires **** and kink longer buildups then urgent bursts of effort drawn out climaxes nameless girl wearing tight jeans cowboy boots braids whom he meets in drake hotel elevator pushes stop button she ***** him off he has **** *** with tan-skinned french-canadian female tourist in telephone booth on north avenue gorgeous longhaired creole girl from new orleans ***** him on fire escape stairs **** *** with skinny punk girl in dark alley dutch foreign exchange student gives him ******* between parked cars on clark street weird awkward *** with goth girl in graveyard ****** by older blond woman who positioning herself underneath table in ritzy restaurant he has *** with chatty college sorority girl in jet lavatory he goes down on nerd girl wearing thick glasses in criticism section of depaul’s library he gets ****** ****** by perfect stranger in lake michigan each evening before he goes out prowling he looks in mirror wonders what strange female he will have *** with tonight it always surprises him what a person might not admit to or accept but allow or give in to if the right moment or if the right person is there not that he is particularly the right person rather he stumbles onto an astonishing streak there is the paris/milantokyo fashion model with stylish french haircut who possesses astonishing beauty perfect ***** and haughty temper after night of too many ***** martinis and ******* she announces “you and your friends are going nowhere  you’re all second-rate artist losers! and your cousin and his group are obnoxious *******” she flips him the finger then shoves him he shoves back resulting in dual arrests and domestic violence charges there is the tall blond stripper who totally fulfills his ****** desires once she lets him insert garden hose up her **** laughs uproariously as stream of water shoots out on another occasion she requests he *** in her *** he begins to believe he will marry her she insists she is too low class for his family one night she drunkenly hurls champagne bottle gives him black eye drives away crashes her car there is blue-eyed sweetheart with divine ****** loving touch who after months of sleeping with Odysseus confesses she is ******* some other guy and swears she will be faithful in the future she begs for his forgiveness as he loses it pushes her out door throwing her clothes after her one girl lights candles gives him full body massage ******* another girl holds him tight cries pushes him away one girl writes confessions with permanent markers on walls of closet another girl slaps him yells why? why why why! one girl runs to toilet pukes passes out on floor another girl sits up all night talking teasing never relieving him another girl falls asleep snores while he is in conversation one girl makes fun of small left ******* later gossips to her girlfriends he meets girl who will do anything except allow him to enter her ****** he meets girl who is professional escort she offers to do him for free she has lots of toys videos he declines they mess around she gets him off with ******* he meets girl whose ***** hair grows to mid-thigh she incessantly calls for her dog Bertram! he meets girl who shivers moans furiously cries laughs when he climaxes he meets girl with self-inflicted scars on arms legs who only wants it up her **** he meets girl who likes gagging deep-******* him to skull-**** her harder the better he meets girl whose ******* are so fierce she loses complete control drenching him sheets with her fluids excrement he meets girl who wants ******* squeezed so tightly he fears he will draw blood he meets girl who likes to talk ***** slaps his face as he is reaching ****** he meets girl with gargantuan ***** ******* as large as thumb she gurgles hot breaths later tries to steal string of beads he meets girl who enjoys lactating on his thighs while she gives him head he meets girl who knows how to contract vaginal muscles so tightly all he does is sustain ******* inside her in order to reach ****** he meets girl who pees tiny squirts while he penetrates her **** she laughs wildly he meets girl with furry mound who requests he **** on her as she masturbates he declines she reproaches him accusing you’re not nearly as freethinking as you pretend to be in fact you’re full of ****! he meets girl who wants him to act out **** they struggle he meets girl who desires to be ******* whipped he is not into inflicting pain he meets large strong girl who forces him he never tells anyone about incident he becomes mindful many females are more depraved than him women remain puzzle to Odysseus he is repeatedly astounded shocked can never predict about girl what her ******* ****** will look like whether she has eager *** or what are her secret desires he is explorer women are vast mystery he wonders are females as sexually driven as males? are they as vulnerable? is their **** like tiny *****? he speculates if completely unknown attractive woman walks up to any average man grabs his crotch many possibly most men will willingly allow it are women that weak? more than anything what most excites Odysseus is female lust handjobs are test of adequacy distinguishing character having masturbated thousands of times he thrills in having girl do it he delights in watching her arousal just staring at his ******* is captivated by method of her fingers hands revitalized by degree of her determination throughout he needs to ****** her ******* ****** *** titillated as she licks lips after swallowing ***** he realizes if he were female he would be total nymphomaniac yet he finds it difficult to imagine desiring men are all so like him women are so strange fascinatingly different he craves their otherness Odysseus loves women more than they love themselves smell sight of them sends him into frenzy problem is he fears their power over him

it’s been 25 years since those days i live alone for many years in tucson arizona have not been with a woman for long long time last relationship 2001 with crack ***** i hang my head cry wish for love wonder do i deserve to be loved pray to be forgiven
Bus Poet Stop Jun 2018
~for those who will read this and weep~

the quiet ones,
the silent Job ones,
who quote not from the
Book of Lamentations,
but author their own,
based on-the-job experience

localized versions of cryptic elegiacs
accepting the wooden crosses borne,
stepping up to the
unrequested unforeseen,
then buried under, burnt alive,
yet never relieved by dying,
nailed by words, stronger than iron,
promises sworn, promises kept
with no ending date relief,
promises by and to themselves,
but not for themselves!


the wearers of crystal glass shackles,
adorned with decorative locks for which
no key did the maker make,
nor any divine creator
dare conceive an early release,
never no escape contemplated,
for the lock human, unrepentant unbreakable,
a decorative useless metaphor gesture,
a blunt “life *****” advertisement

I compose amidst a
bus pond of mismatched city folk,
a tapestry of ages colors and differing views on god/no god,
none would believe that as the bus sways me,
it’s in rhythm to holy choral music,
hundreds year old,
divinity masses and motets worships,
where one human can hide temporarily
a safe house,
to calm his questioning relentless
from the horrors of no answers,
for when the mind has no solution
to the rough and tumbling lives,
lived in glass shackled confinement,
the poets desperation equals theirs


summon eagles to transport these imprisoned,
but the shackled refuse,
I come to them but they wave me off,
I go crazy for once I was enslaved,
thirty years war that left devastation,
from which so many poems created

so I speak with heightened regard
of one who planned futures for others where his
non-existence was a founding father (ha!)


but the day came and
I was released by my own inactions,
but means nothing until a way to
away found
to release the yet bound early


got a couch, airline miles, hundred dollars
in my pocket and an unrelenting need
to save them, a consumption disease,
the glass shackled, at ease,
won’t rest till all are freed
this my creed
no one left behind

these cyber words do not mock
for they are unbounded, set free,
when
the flesh connects and the needs of the flesh
are stronger for they are in heart conceived
poetry is stupid
it makes no sense
how does a turltle in the sea of immortality
translate to life is good
poetry *****
it should all be burned
id rather eat 10,000 ducks
poetry is the worst
and i am not the 1st
to say that poems are crap
they are better when they are rapped
ogden nashes poems are to short
while charles bukowski is a flat out perver
there is so much stuff better than poetry
like playing on a minecraft server
or watching TV or playing video games
even going to school influences less pain
poetry is for fools
that only like to drool
in front of a piece of paper
and write poems, well im a hater
and rhoald dahl makes the worst poems
critisizing the television
how do u get the news and the weather
and learn about politicians
so i end here
and if ur reading this
ur a queer
Spirk Burkham Mar 2014
it *****,
that ****;
the **** that *****
that lives inside my head.

it gropes around
for things to smite
with ****
because it *****.

the more I try
to smite the ****,
the more the **** smites
my thoughts with ****.

the **** that smites
my thoughts when I
try to smite the ****
that lives inside my head

***** like ****
that smites my thoughts
when I smite the ****
for smiting me.
the **** is gone,
the **** that smites.
I smote it down
without a fight.

I smote the ****,
but I did not;
the **** and I
have never fought

for I smote the ****
without a thought
Cece Oct 2013
It *****
when the man you're in love with
is obsessed
with a *******
computer game.

It *****
that I just wanted to see him right now
but he'd rather play his game instead.

It *****
because I'm so ******* ******
and continue to act mad
even when I have already
let it go,
to try and prove a point.

You're almost ******* TWENTY YEARS OLD.                                                

It *****
that I care so much

but it ***** even more
than he won't stop.


But
if this is the worst thing
our relationship will have to endure
I think we're doing okay.




*CVT
James Givens May 2014
Yeah Life ***** sometimes but there is always something good that comes out Yeah Life ***** sometimes but you're still living there's kids out there who don't have a puddle of clean water no food to eat no bed to lay in no love to be giving because they have to grow up so fast but hey they're children they can't control it.Yeah life ***** sometimes but just know there's somebody out there that's going through a lot worst be grateful for what you have because it can be gone in a heart beat so smile.

04/08/14
harlee kae Jun 2014
Sometimes I hate poetry because people try to sound eloquent and sophisticated with their words.
They tell some long drawn out story of how their mood changes with the seasons when all that needs to be said is **I'm unhappy and it *****.
Dorothy A Oct 2013
Everything faded to black. He had a hard time remembering just what the hell happened. He wasn't sure of downing some random pills from of the medicine cabinet-- his first attempt to end it all. Making sure he would not recover-- if the pills didn't do the job-- he had already devised the set up of the noose in his bedroom. Definitely, he didn't recall anyone cutting the rope, forcing him down to the floor.

Lacie joked with him. "Dude, you've got nine lives! You must really be a ****, fricking cat in disguise! That's why you'll eat those nasty tuna fish sandwiches they serve in the nuthouse! "

Chris grinned at her.  He had to agree. To refer to it as the psych ward at the hospital made it seem like more of a jail term, but calling it "the nuthouse" lightened up the severity of the situation. As grave and nearly tragic as everything  had become, it was kind of laughable to him.  He supposed he had more chances than a cat's fabled life. It all seemed so crazy that it must be funny.

Well, what could he say? He had flirted with death, but unwillingly managed to escape its grip. "Pathetic..."--he commented. "I don't not even know how to die well..."

Chris  eventually realized that he had been rushed to the hospital, but wished it wasn't true. Since then, everything was either a total blur or a bizarre state of mind . Even waking up in his room was like a remotely vague memory, almost like a long ago dream that might not really have happened.

Maybe, he was somewhat aware that his sister was screaming in shock and horror at the sight of him, shouting out downstairs to her boyfriend to help her. But the walls were turning red, a glowing scarlet- red, with an added fiery orange and yellowish-gold-- all joined together in pulsating embers. He was quickly losing consciousness. It was like some, bad acid trip. Not that Chris knew this firsthand, but it sure was like something he saw on TV or at the movies.

And now he was the star of the horror show.

Did he die?  Death was what he planned on, so waking up was not a relief, or a reality back into motion--just the opposite. It was as if being awake was the real nightmare, a delusional time when everything was not true, and was only an scary, offbeat version of the life of Chris Cartier.

The bad acid trip continued. He recalled hospital staff rushing about him, seeming like real people-- sort of. Then they morphed into fish in scrubs. From overhead, an IV was dripping into his arm. Tubes were shoved down his throat. His vital signs were displayed on a screen that made beeps and sounds, increasing the chaos and adding to the mayhem to his mind. Soon, the vital signs machine started talking to him that he was a "very bad boy" and other such scoldings.

He was thoroughly freaked out. If he was still alive, he'd rather be dead.

He wanted to run. One of the fish pushed him back down and muttered out undecipherable utterances-- like underwater gibberish . Then that fish used its slimy fins to inject him with a needle in his arm. The other fish circled around him like fish out of water--with opening and closing mouths-- as if gasping for air.

As they surrounded him as rubber monkeys shot out from the walls and bounced all over the room. On top of all this madness, the florescent lights above were flickering on and off, in sync to the wild music, like the drum beats of a distant jungle. It was one bizarre tangle of events, a freaky, crazy, out-of-control ride in which reality could not be distinguished from the animation and mass confusion. It was one overpowering ride that he would much rather forget.

When Chris got out of critical condition, he found out that he could still not go home. That would take a few weeks more. Dr. What-The-Hell's-His-Name assured him that he needed to start on the path to his psychological healing--just as grave as the physical--right here in a safe place.

It didn't seem so safe to him.

The enemy wasn't what was out there in the world, but the big, bad wolf was actually him. He had to be protected from the true culprit--himself-- and that was a mind-blowing concept. Just what did he get himself into?   

He never had been a patient in a hospital before. In all his twenty-six years, he didn't so much as even have his tonsils out. Feeling now like a prisoner,, he was still scared out of his mind-- as if it was day one all over again. When was he going to get out of here? Chris began to fear that they would never let him out. No professional had a definitive answer, as only time would tell of his improvement.

Man, why couldn't he just be dead?

His parents visited almost everyday, but it was of no reassurance to him. His mother always left in tears, and his father was lost for words. This was nothing new. When it concerned their troubled son, they felt inadequate to help him. The best his dad could say was, "Hey, Chris, we're pullin' for ya". That was of no comfort, whatsoever, like he was some fighter in a boxing ring that his old man had a bet placed on . His mom always clung to him as she said goodbye, like she needed the hug more than he did, saying to Chris through her sobs , "Miss you....love you". Her emotional state just unsettled him to the core, and he was worried for her more than for himself.    

At best, his outlook was grim. But then he met Lacie Weiss, and things started looking up.

Lacie was one of the quietest psych patients in the ward, always sticking to herself. But then he found himself sitting right next to her in group therapy, and they hit it off. He had no idea that she had a fun side. She usually looked apathetic and quietly defiant to society, a nonconformist in the form of a Goth, with edgy, dyed black hair, dark eye make-up and some ****** piercings of the eyebrow, tongue and nose. Her look was quite in contrast to his light blue eyes and sandy-brown hair. Chris never was into Gothic, viewing those who were as spooky creeps.  

It was obvious that Chris was scared and confused. Now although trying to seem tough and stoic, Lacie seemed so little, almost fragile, yet obviously trying to hide her broken self together. Petite and somewhat girlish in appearance, she was barely 5 feet tall. Chris was 5 feet 11 and a half inches, close enough to the six foot stature that he wanted to be. Only a half inch less really didn't cut it for him, though, even though his slim build gave the impression of a lankier guy. He would have loved to be as tall as the basketball players he so emulated. But such was life. He was never used to having the advantages.  

At first, Lacie never opened up, not to a single soul. Like Chris, she certainly acted like she didn't need this place, and nobody was going to help her--or be allowed to help her. As stony and impenetrable as she tried to be, group therapy it was hard to disappear in. Everyone was held accountable for opening up, and the leader was going to see to it.  No way, though, did Lacie want to crack or look weak in her turtle shell composure, in her self-preservation mode. So it was agony for her.

She first spoke to him, whispering loudly to him, onc,e in the group circle "This is all *******!"

Hanging with Chris was the one salvation that she had in this miserable experience. They both could relate more than he ever realized. They both really liked motorcycles and basketball. He had his own Harley, and it was something he loved to work on and go on long rides with it, his own brand of therapy.  In spite of how she looked, Lacie was also actually close to his age. He was twenty-six. and she was twenty-two.

They first broke the ice with casual introductions. "No, the name is not pronounced like Carter", he corrected her about his last name. "It is like Cart-EE-AY...... It's French".

"Yep", she replied. "Like mine is the same way, but as German as brats and sauerkraut,  Ja dummkopf?"

Chris gave her a weird look. She continued, "My mom's dad was from Germany, and I got my mom's name. Ya don't say it how it looks. You would say Weiss like Vice, but I couldn't give a **** how anybody says it. Nobody gets it right and original, anyhow." Her dark brown eyes flashed at him as she said, " But I think I like Chris Cutie, myself, better than Cartier.....cutie it is for me. Huh, cutie pie? "

Chris laughed hard. She was pretty coy for a die-hard Goth. She batted her eyes playfully at him and winked."You're worth being in here for, ya know", he told her, blushing, still laughing at her silly remarks.

She studied his face in response, all laughing aside. Suddenly, her mood turned solemn.  "I'll bet".

They began hanging out in the commons, walking down the halls for exercise, and swapping stories of their plights. Chris quickly found that she Lacie wasn't so steely and unapproachable as the day he first saw her.  And she discovered that he was more than a pretty boy.

"My parents weren't home when I tried", he told her one time after lunch was done. They were sitting in a corner, trying to be as private as possible. "Twenty-six years old...and I still live with them. Yeah, that's my life. I got a twin brother, and he's moved out and doing alright for himself. My sister's younger, is going to college. Wants to be a doctor".

Lacy didn't have any siblings to compare herself to. "Must be cool to have a twin", Lacie said. "I always wondered how that would be to have two of me running around! Scary, huh, dude?"

Chris shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that. Jake and I aren't identical. We are just a two-for-one deal...I mean  is that my parents got two babies in one, huge-*** pregnancy. Jake and me don't even act like twins. Half the time, I don't want to be around him."

No, it wasn't like his cousins, Adam and Alan, who were identical friends, mirror images, and best of friends. Chris never identified with that kind of brotherly relationship. He and Jake never dressed alike, or knew what the other one was thinking. And Chris felt that his brother always felt superior to him. He was the popular one. He was the ambitious one who landed a great job in computers, as a system analyst.  To add to Chris's feelings of inferiority, his little sister, Kate, had surpassed him, too. She was acing most of her classes, and boarding away at college. She was well on her way to becoming a doctor.    

"So if your mom and dad weren't around...who saved you?" Lacie asked. She stared into his eyes with such a probing stare that Chris almost clammed up. Just thinking about that day was overpowering.

"Uh...my sister and her boyfriend were hanging out in the basement. She was home from college, and I didn't know it. My parents were out-of-town. Our dog, Buster, was acting funny. He knew something was up..."

Chris stopped abruptly, but went on. "Kate, my sister, explained to me that she saw me in my room, getting up on a step ladder. She says she yelled at me to stop. I don't remember...but I guess..I guess I was going to do it anyway, and she wouldn't be able to stop me....stop me from...so I hurried up and jumped off before she could stop me."  

Lacie could almost picture it, as if she was there with him. She said, "But she did stop it. She saved you."

"Yeah", he agreed. "Buster started it all...barking, alerting my sister to come upstairs from the basement, and upstairs by my room...." All of a sudden, he felt so weird, like he was having an out-of-body experience.

"Hey, it's OK", Lacie reassured him. "It's over now. You aren't there anymore".

Chris started to cry, but tried not to. "If it weren't for Brian, Kate's boyfriend....she would not of had the strength to hold me up by herself, and cut the rope, too. I must have been like dead weight, and Brian grabbed a kitchen knife and told her to stay cool about it. Yeah, sure, like that could have been possible ! She was trying to keep the rope slack, while trying to save my sorry ****...and she was scared, shitless! "

Lacie opened up, too, relating her tragic past. She had an unbelievable tale, one hell of a ride herself.  It was amazing how detached she was when relating it, though. "Well" actually I got to fess up" "I'm not really an only child....I mean I am...but not really. I know that sounds weird---hey--but I am weird. Oddly unusual is the story of my life-- even before day one. "

Chris had no idea what she was talking about. "What are ya' trying to say?"

She added another surprising bombshell. "Also,  I have a two-year-old boy. His name is Danny. He don't see his dad--ever. The guy's a waste of space. Anyway, my mom has him. She can afford him more, and can do a better job raising him than me. Well, she does OK money-wise. Anyhow, my mom deserves him because she lost everything. And I mean EVERYTHING! Her whole fricking family practically wiped out!"

The shock that Chris had on his face-- his widened, blue eyes and open mouth were expected.   Most people had a hard time believing her.

She explained, calmly, "I mean she nearly died--way before I was born--in a car accident. And her two, little boys were with her in the backseat...and they died that day. "

Chris looked pale. "That is so awful!" he said, hoarsely, barely able to say it.

"Yeah", she continued. "Not a **** thing she could do about it, too. She was like in a million pieces. I know a part of her died right there and then, too. I just know it.  You know, dude, my mom was once really, really coasting along, just doing fine. A typical wife and mother-- a bit older than me now-- life was good. Her little boys were just cute, little toddlers--like Danny. I found out from my grandma that she was  pregnant, too, just a month or two. Nobody could have imagined it coming. She was just driving--doing nothing wrong-- when some idiot broadsided her.  I don't know if it was a guy or a lady, if they were jacked up on ***** or drugs, but they were speeding like a demon out of Hell. Her husband was at work and wasn't around."  

The boys were Benjamin and Gerard, but Lacie couldn't remember their names, for her mom could barely mention them without breaking down. It was an unbearable loss.

Chris was so horrified, amazed that Lacie related this like it was someone else's story. She was almost too cavalier about it.

"And they died ?!" he asked.

"Yeah....*****, don't it? Pure, pure agony. Downright Hell on earth. My mom had to learn to walk again. It took about year, I think."

"Oh, no! What about the baby she was supposed to have?"

"Miscarriage. Worse yet, the **** doctor told her she'd never be able to have kids again. She lost everything, man! Her husband couldn't handle it and left her. **** on top of ****, on top of more ****, on top of more. If it wasn't for her parents, and her sister's help, she would never have made it.

"But she had given birth to you, right? Or were you adopted?"

"Yeah, she gave birth to me. I was her miracle baby, and she didn't give a rat's rear end if my dad wanted me or not. He'd send her money, once in a while, but he wasn't really into either of us. Who cares though? She didn't give a **** what he thought. I was her baby. Truth is, before I came, she ended up slitting her wrists--just like me. What was the use? At first, there was nothing to live for. But now she has Danny.

"And you!" Chris quickly pointed out.

"Dude, are you kidding me? I have been NOTHING but grief for her, a real pain in her ***!"

Unlike her deceased, half-brothers, Lacie grew up before her mother's eyes, from a shy girl to a ******* rebel. Since the age of twelve, she would sneak drinks from her mom's liqueur cabinet. Eventually, she smoked *** and tried ******* and ******. Dropping out of the eleventh grade, she soon away from home, living with friends or boyfriends ever since.  Thankfully, she wasn't doing drugs when she conceived Danny. And her drinking wasn't as prevalent as it was in her teen years of partying and binge drinking. That didn't mean that her drinking problems magically disappeared, or that she was cured. Immediately, though, when she knew she was pregnant, she refused to touch a bottle, but it was just a white knuckle process that was effective momentarily--a band aid on a more serious wound. And going months without a drop of alcohol didn't deaden her urges--quite the opposite--as it only made her crave what she could not have. Often, her fears caught up with her--of especially becoming
Your mommy thinks it's great and rewards you with a bowl of ice cream and a sticker after she just gave you a bath once being your twenty two is a little strange I'm just saying.

When all your Facebook friends like it and yet you've never actually
met one of your two thousand Facebook friends.
I'm not saying your a loser cause you live your live online
well yes I am sorry I'm a ****.

When you write endless poems about how everyone in this world *****  look  sure people are a pain in the *** .
But maybe instead of listening to hours of music about suicide and
other teenage horse **** maybe you should step out the door go into
that strange place  called the outdoors  get a drink get laid and try having a life instead of just ******* about everyone else.

When other people are brought to tears before you read the first line.
Yeah sure I want to listen to hours of spoken word poetry.
And maybe have a root canal as well.
Well at least with a root canal there's some free drugs.
Look get a keg maybe some other party favors and a wet T shirt
contest and that's a poetry reading you can count me in for.

When everyone on a website gives you a hundred likes and not a single comment  yes the like button I hate it if you didn't know.

How do you know when your poetry ***** .
Well when it's used by the government to interrogate  suspected terrorist  at the airport and suspect screams out in agony .
Look whatever happened to good old fashioned water and car batteries and jumper cables ?

When your favorite subject is the girlfriend that ripped your heart out
and how your life isn't worth living since she left.
When if you had spent more time hitting the sack and less time working on her tenth sonnet.

Maybe she wouldn't be getting jack hammered by your best friend.
Hey write about that video they put out she's a total freak.
Sorry bout your loss now what was her number?


Yes bad poetry it's enough to drive a mental man sane trust me
that's why I drink so I can forget half the crap I've read .

Stay crazy kids .
Drinks on me Gonzo
Idris Muntaqim Dec 2020
Christmas really ***** and I'll tell you why;
It's a pagan holiday and that's no lie.

Christmas really ***** and what I'm saying is true;
Many parents lie to their children about Santa Claus being real, which is a foolish thing to do.

Christmas really ***** and that's a fact;
The idiots who celebrate Christmas can be white, yellow, red, brown, or black.

Christmas really ***** because it brings out a person's inner pagan, as you can see;
Jesus Christ wasn't born on December 25 and I'm speaking honestly.

Christ was a Muslim and a prophet who was born on 3 BCE;
He disappeared on 33 CE and you'll have to agree.

Christmas really ***** and what I'm saying is right;
Whoever believes that Jesus Christ was crucified isn't bright.

Christmas really ***** and here's something else that I'll tell;
Christmas can rot in hell.
Exodia Fantasy Jun 2018
It ***** when someone loves you, yet she always break your heart
It ***** when you give your everything, yet she only gives her part
It ***** when you made her whole, yet you're the one who's shattered
It ***** when someone act like she cares, yet leaves your pieces scattered

I really wish I could be more like you
I wish I could let go of your hand and bear watching you walk away
But I just cant, and I'll never be you
Who leaves me when Im on my knees begging you to stay

As the blood flows through my veins
I kneel to God praying that "Please, Oh God Father ease the pain"
But I guess Im way too nefarious to be heard
So the skies weeps and my hands quivered

Help me to repaint our faded rainbow
Before it gets covered with snow
Help me to fight our foe
Before it defeats our glow
Jeremy Duff Aug 2012
Angsty feelings portrayed with unflashy adjectives.
blah blah blah
Hateful words directed at people in general.
blah blah blah
Ranting about cigarettes like a pig.
blah blah blah
My music is better than yours because no one else likes it.
blah blah blah
Society *****.
blah blah blah
Quotes from pop-punk songs.
blah blah blah
Depressed ramblings.
blah blah blah
*****.
blah blah blah
Love *****.
You *****.
I ****.
******* *****.
blah blah blah blah...
Chris La Mar Apr 2016
Yeah, this poem *****; it ***** a lot
It ***** and blows and spits in socks

The socks get thrown in dirt and mud
And the rainfall makes them smell like crud

The smell of crud begins to spread
Then the socks get tossed into a shed

The shed is blown up with a tank
But inside the shed was a ginormous ***** bank

And now that *****, smelly sock
is pregnant with another poem bound to ****.

— The End —