"swearwords" poems
This contains swearwords!!!!
Do you know what it’s like to be on the dole?
The giro, the social, the rock and roll,
Well I’m tellin you now, that it’s no laff,
No heat or food, round at my gaff,
I can’t pay the bills on fifty three quid,
This is how I live; I’m tellin ye kid,
No Lecky, or water, or comfy bed,
Nowhere to lay my educated head,
You’s think I’m brewsted on state benefit,
Well I’m tellin ye now, life is ****
No jobs are goin in my town,
This whole ****** country is goin down,
I look every day for a job to do,
Over qualified under qualified, scew you,
I’d brush your path, deliver your dinner,
My options for work get thinner and thinner,
But we get the blame for the country’s debt,
And seen in your eyes as a useless get,
We are not scroungers and living like kings,
We can’t afford the simple things,
We can’t take our kids to Blackpool pier,
Or to the fair, it’s just too dear,
It’s not our fault the system let us down,
Schooling was crap, but I got a cap and gown,
So don’t look at me, like I’m ****
I’ve bettered meself to get out of this pit,
I’m clever and proud and I stand tall,
I make something out of nothing, coz I’ve got **** all,
You won’t tread us down, yeah that’s right,
We got fire in our bellies and where ready to fight,
We’re not greedy for a fancy lifestyle.
The simple things make us smile,
So quit avin a go, at our worlds apart,
I’m scouse and proud, with a lions heart,
So live well in your mansion, apartment, or detached,
Coz were the generation that Maggie hatched,
Yeah that’s right were Maggie’s crew,
The under privileged, not like you,
Time to step up the Cameron’s and Clegg’s,
Coz you’ve sat long enough on Thatcher’s eggs.
Tina Ford
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
Where was I, when you were alive?
Was I sleeping, dreaming, kicking, screaming,
Staring in wonder at the bright stars a-gleaming?
Where was I when you were crying?
Was I thinking of life after dying,
Seeing as it was, or blind and sighing,
Where was I when you were crying?
When you were born, what was I doing?
Was I speaking, walking, peeking, stalking,
Dancing, singing, laughing, mingling,
Looking, lying, toking, trying?
Where was I when you were on the beach,
Staring out towards the sea?
Perhaps I was taking a ***
Or sipping my hot cup of tea?
Where was I when you were sleeping?
Perhaps I was in mid-air, leaping,
Or watching as MTV was bleeping swearwords.
Where was I when you fell ill?
Was I parked up on a hill,
Waiting for life to arrive
With a plan it did contrive?
When you were driving,
Or tidying,
Perhaps on a snowboard somewhere, sliding,
Was I alone at home and hiding?
Or on the bike somewhere, and riding?
Maybe I was wide-awake,
Or laughing with my friends, while baked,
Or greasing a pan to bake a cake,
Contemplating what makes a lake.
Or perhaps I was asleep and dreaming,
and lost in my subconscious readings,
With avatars of all my friends,
Buying a Mercedes Benz.
Where was I when you were wasted?
Was I laughing at old hatreds,
Staring at a crawling aphid,
Or in the shower, and stark naked?
Where were you while I was thinking?
Perhaps you were awake and blinking,
All the sleep out of your eyes,
After dreaming of cute Albanian guys?
Where is everyone this second?
I mean, this specific second,
As I write or read this poem,
Perform it for a crowd so wholesome,
Where am I as you read this?
Up on a stage and fighting fears false lisp,
To make sure all of these words are crisp,
Or eating bread with ham and swiss?
Are you dead, or are you living?
A minion to society's bidding,
Or policing streets and finally ridding
Pavement of the hobos twitching out of crystal ****
Perhaps you're firing a gun,
Or you've found the only 'one,'
To love through thick and thin, till death;
Or thinking, "Wow, poor old MacBeth."
In this moment, is it all;
So listen to the moments call,
And cancel all your texting plans,
And use those thumbs to grasp the hand,
Of a loved one next to you;
"The day before" was never true,
So there's no better time for you,
To look for some more love to brew.
So get up, and go do.
Go do it.
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 12:10 PM UTC
Don’t know who writes or when
Just like cinema posters get changed according to times,
Misspelt swear words appeared on the wall of the ******
What was written using moss, coal and laterite was sometimes like this..
“The air is aromatic here. Rajiv + Sindhu
A picture of a heart with an arrow through it
Songs like “Rajan sir and Bhanu teacher are in love, man”
Walls got filled
In vengeance to the beatings and impositions.
Amidst the stench of **** and *****
Love blossomed between moss
The girl’s ****** stood like a temple
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
The back of my head
Is looked at more times
Than I dare to dream,
On buses,
or
Before the lights go
Out on the cinema screen.
*That’s the first
Place I want you to touch*
Where my hair tapers
In wisps,
With your thumb
In the dip of my brain,
Touching across the centuries -
Go on
Push a fingerprint
into the prehistoric
Me.
Mould your hands into
the backs of my knees,
Hold them
like shields,
And fight all of
My body's wars with me.
The trembling there
is love,
my love,
and not
a
tremor.
Nudge the wild treasure
under my arms
like an animal
with your wet nose,
go searching for
the smell of gold,
buried
in the black sand,
take my hands
and love my blue veins
like little ribbons,
follow them like rivers
to the sea,
to my mouth,
to the mouth of the sea,
spread out my sails,
my shoulder blades,
and swim
with your fingers
to kiss
under my ear,
that bit
where
chandelier earrings
hit girls,
and find the
backs of my thighs
and paddle
there,
as hard or as soft
as you like,
just enough
to keep me
floating,
then up up
an inch or so,
a little circle,
as though
you're rubbing
spilled tea
into a wooden tabletop,
a circle
a little 'oh'
my head pressing
swearwords
to my pillow.
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 9:32 AM UTC
L--- is the thick, adrenaline-wrought catharsis of a summer rainstorm on the highway at night.
It's the ridiculously advantaged team in a game of dodgeball;
and the hail in March as you run from work to close your car's skylight;
and the wave that rakes your hair with the teeth of the sand and surf;
and the pebble on the downhill slope that your bike trips over and you fly off, eyes wide and gracelessly flailing;
and L--- is the way you lose yourself in the cosmic threads of their eyes;
and the breath you forgot you were holding.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 11:22 PM UTC
ewer in my hand, basin there
pouring the water
on the floor
while looking around
"BE CAREFUL *******
shouts my Grandpa
performing his ablution
and, so
looking into his eyes
I've learned
sometimes
you feel the love
in swearwords
Turgay Usanmaz
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 2:07 AM UTC