"uglies" poems
Maverick ex-cop (Green Beret /Navy Seal /SAS/Ranger)
Twiddle of the fingers to crack a 64 bit hexadecimal code
Shot but can still beat up bad people and run
15 people firing automatic weapons and they all miss
Database that searches the planets population in 2 seconds
And has photos of their children and plans of their building
Regardless of the crime scene sample, always a rare element that pinpoints location
Car chase where a truck can keep up with a Ducati motorbike
Organisations that only employ attractive people in lead roles
Ugly people are tech specialists sometimes allowed to be ‘quirky’
Even the uglies are attractive people disguised with glasses and bad hairstyles
‘I dream of genie’ gendre were they flirt but never get it on, unless it’s a hospital series
Watchable, funny programs that always succumb to sloppy sentimentality
High schools complete with intolerance, marginalisation, bullying, and hell on earth,
The most disturbing and darkest crime sent to titillate mid evening family viewing
Endless humiliation for fatties, chefs, performers, builders, restaurateurs, and troubled teens
Dysfunctional law enforcement agencies that never work together under any circumstances
Enough, if we need this thick coating of unreality, perhaps its time to switch off?
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
The great gaudy flage is screamin' blood in the streets
loose yawn of a gob on him
all bombast n' swagger
he makes a barrage of nuisance
channels through the public
and scatters a juggler's performance spot
lobs away his change hat
then, roughly over the cobbles
he hoicks a resuscitation doll
and stamps down a posing boot
on the 'defeated form'
an unprepared scoop of tourists
a pause for silence and begins a rant
a great performance
of well harassed combustion :
"i smear to god all the phalluses
[he roars, all saliva]
i smug to god
a full jug of uglies
tug on [makes the hand gesture for male ************
i **** off the forger
would slug it in the mug
if it ever did form a tissue oath
took a plug at some drunk straggler
called the baffled *** 'god-father'
and spate spume on his fallen anatomy
[with one hand he indicates the mannequin at his heel]
amen ************ !"
he bows
a long quiet
some people clap awkwardly
two police officers appear and hook him by the elbows
(it has been this show before)
Mar 11, 2022
Mar 11, 2022 at 11:38 AM UTC
cover up dear,you've got to remember the uglies.
she said.
but i strip.
and there is the wind ,
i hear the waves,
what comes will be the rain,
and i want it too,
impale me, strike me,
unleash its fury,
i know its free
i see her still,
backwards hick,
piece of ****
you do not know me,
you never wanted to
but i bring the uglies to the water
i strip because i was born to be inhabited
you cover me with the lies of your lovers lost
but i will not be defined by your backwards mind
the inverted hope you that you try to rip into me with
i dive into the sea it always welcomes me,
its my lost lover, it caresses me ,
it weaves around the tattered corners of my heart and heals the rough parts
i accept the waves as the rock me and i listen to the tempo and i move with in its embrace
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 8:06 PM UTC
We’re all the black sheep in someone’s story.
We’re all heroes, soaking in our glory.
We’re the monsters that hide under children’s beds.
We’re the beautiful presence that rattle stranger’s heads.
Full of pointless egos we are.
Going nowhere for nothing.
Trying to prove what we never knew.
We all want to be with the stars.
Heading somewhere to be something.
Trying to find the easy way out,
knowing that riches are for few.
In truth we are the ugliest of ugly,
full of scars and broken hearts.
Hiding behind thoughtless minds,
giving the illusion we want a beginning.
Trying to maintain crumbling walls,
screaming over the masses for something new.
For the world, for the world we are strangers from afar.
Gaining a closer look, we are conniving yet convincing.
Trying to avoid falling into the darkness,
we feed from light which is you.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
twenty two, twenty three, twenty four
hours in a day
like the white rabbit,
we watch time and stay at the bay.
ten, eight, six, four
words like ‘it’s not good enough,’
or maybe just simple and badly-woven adjectives,
sometimes it makes us feel blue.
thirty, sixty two, countless
nights spent dreaming with open eyes
but all that comes are unkind;
worse than reality’s piercing swords of ice.
yellow, red, blue, nonexistent.
what we know is counting down
to the day the string snaps
the insides spilled; to everyone, its uglies shown.
three, nine, twenty seven
years spent as busy as a cat on a hot tin roof;
the forgotten summers fell into piles of ashes,
yet to our bars of efforts, everyone stays aloof.
one too many times
it happens.
one too many days we thought
**** it up.
(so we did.)
six,five, four
ages we were taught numbers and their orders.
nowadays, **** it up and
count sheep throughout math.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 10:49 AM UTC
Weather whethers whither wow?
Picture Oregon Trail, version 2, the runaways.
A little banjo with your standstill open plain,
always waving wheatgrasses,
beckoning with wide fingertrails.
I tried to ford the river,
but my ******* oxen died.
Each breath worse than the last,
feeling filth in my bones,
dysentery behind every accidental shotgun wound.
What do you do when you know two right answers,
when everything feels correct?
Multiple choice,
multiple guess,
multiple uglies.
You touch my stereo,
volume and fingernails tune.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 12:23 AM UTC
i’m no good, femme fatale
i bring hand grenades to dinner dates
beauty icon — kiss my cyanide flavored lip gloss
let’s bump uglies, ******* & rat poison
leave this world left hand middle finger
right hand intertwined in yours
i’m in a damaged goods costume
take away some letters, my clothes
and i’m just dam good
leaving you on your knees, begging to fix me
begging to **** me
I don’t follow the rules
I use my mouth on you
opened up and emptied out
just to fill me up... with your blood
femme fatale, equipped with fangs
and the ability to not give a ****
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 12:21 AM UTC
I feel so out of place I do not fit in
In this hole I could never win maybe everyone else gets the joke always out never in
evey time I step outside I feel the need to hide
why?
We are all uglies wandering this world apart but together
don't you feel this weather in your head?
Storms of emotion
Control them and you have passed
Conquer them and you have found the key to being human
living with feeling is strictly forbidden but I was always a rebel
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 8:55 PM UTC
She took a hundred candles
and burned them all to stubs
to watch the life go burning out
of each and every one.
And once she took a person,
and meant to light their heart.
She missed and lit their lungs, instead.
Now they speak flaming darts.
One time she took to drowning
in oceans vast and deep.
But she is dreams, and dreams don't die,
so she just fell asleep.
When she would sit up lonely
and watch while all the rest
would lay, and dream, and breathe, and stay,
then, gorgeous she was left.
As she would search for beauty
from uglies, odds, or couths,
she oftentimes would find herself
and still not know the truth.
I watched her light a candle
and burn it to the ground,
then say that hers was not the hand
that scattered flames around.
I watched her light a candle,
then try to blow it out.
But she inhaled, and now instead
shes left with burning lungs of red.
Her words, still burning in my head,
I recognize when late, in bed
my candle won't go out.
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 2:10 AM UTC
I pride myself by my addictions.
The deaths I should have had would make me immortal by default.
And still, I breathe and scoff at it's lagging effects.
You can't have me.
I lay awake alone and thoughtful,
I answer your call at a moments notice.
I leave you be whenever you're done and continue to indulge my thoughts,
You can't have me.
I mark myself as a timeline is marked with lines and events.
My scars could tell a story that I would only know the punchline to.
I color my skin with fantasy and ink to hide the other uglies I make,
You can't have my stories...they're mine.
If I were to smile upon greeting then I would have already lied to you.
If I were to kiss you then you would have fallen.
I pride myself by my addictions and you cannot be one of them.
You can't have my love.
I'll give you a laugh and company without expectations of it being returned.
I'll give you my time and a kind deed or two.
I'll give you a friendship and a wall to hide behind.
Just be warned, you'll want more
And I will not oblidge.
You cannot want me because I don't want you.
Or anything.
I will not take your sympathy or your truth.
I will not take your heart or your push.
I will take your body and your smell
But ******* was never love
And shame on you for not knowing the difference.
I can take your ****** but You can't have my trust.
Now you turn to me with inclinations that I have misled you.
The hurt on your face leaves me annoyed and impatient.
The effects of my drug and my addtictions take hold
And I leave you talking to a corpse that has no use for words.
The dead are silent and patient and will never talk back.
They always wait their turn and never take it.
They limply create a warm illusion
But they're colder and colder with each toss of sound.
You cannot make me warm...the others guys took it from me long before you.
So let it take me back into the ground.
Leave me buried and I'll leave you alive.
A fair trade in my book.
The moment you try to be my savior
Will be the moment I will become your destroyer.
You cannot have my soul, it was mine to lose in the first place.
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 7:03 PM UTC
the rejects.
the uglies.
the fatties.
slightly u n d e r
and to the left
of the mainstream
dug under a little,
|grooving at our own pace|
pulling at the roots.
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
Why can't the rain be seen as beautiful
Like it asked to be the symbol of depression
Why does the world see it as being the dark Lord of the night
As if its dropping are toxic waste ready to burn us all away
Why must the rain be viewed as pure ugliness
As if what it has done for us mean absolutely nothing
Doesn't it mean something
It has watered the crops that feed us
Gave us hope when none existed
But instead of being praised like it should be...
It is viewed as the god of destruction just like its counterpart fire
Another understood element
Rain...they sing songs about it
Wishing it to go away
Disgracing its name
Again calling it,"destruction"
But the way I see it...
Us being humans have no right to be calling anyone destructive
We have caused more destruction than rain could ever imagine
So in my eyes...natures eyes
Rain is beautiful and it is we who are the uglies
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
When I die,
Do not talk about me
Like I am the most wonderful person
To have ever graced this Earth;
Instead, tell them I am mad.
How my ***** nails dug ugly scars
Within my dark, burning soul
Fed with rage uncontrolled.
Tell them I am selfish.
With an eye for love I have not
That my heart rejoices but in sorrow
Only coldness and loath would grow.
Tell them I am broken.
That these crevices that he left
In the regions of my heart
Will not ever heal completely again.
That I walked wide-eyed yet half-awake
Torn between the fantasy of his lips so sweet,
And the gleam of his pointed teeth.
Tell them all my sins.
My uglies.
My glories.
And only after that,
That then,
Maybe you can tell them I was beautiful.
©Leigh
Feb. 14, 2017
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC
Why can't the rain be seen as beautiful
Like it asked to be the symbol of depression
Why does the world see it as being the dark Lord of the night
As if its dropping are toxic waste ready to burn us all away
Why must the rain be viewed as pure ugliness
As if what it has done for us mean absolutely nothing
Doesn't it mean something
It has watered the crops that feed us
Gave us hope when none existed
But instead of being praised like it should be...
It is viewed as the god of destruction just like its counterpart fire
Another understood element
Rain...they sing songs about it
Wishing it to go away
Disgracing its name
Again calling it,"destruction"
But the way I see it...
Us being humans have no right to be calling anyone destructive
We have caused more destruction than rain could ever imagine
So in my eyes...natures eyes
Rain is beautiful and it is we who are the uglies
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
if pretty people
can be this miserable,
I can only imagine
how broken up
the uglies must be.
I am so sorry
that we live so
differently.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
February 28th, 1968 marked the date
Boyce Brandon Harris
(my octogenarian widower father)
purchased a small tract of land
constituting shadowed sliver
once hailing, hallmarking, harkening,
glorious vast "Glen Elm" estate,
which circa 1910 encompassed
a hundred plus acres of woodland
Pooh would Winnie
(including a pond frequented
by migrating Canadian Geese)
eventually zoned for commercial,
industrial, and residential development
(all in the name of productive land use)
particularly put into motion
courtesy Donald J. Neilson,
who transformed expansive woodland
rivaling shutterfly
sprouting like mushrooms towed stools
booming explosively
after ample precipitation
little houses on the hillside
little houses made of ticky tacky...
popped up overnight
transforming landscape
displacing flora and fauna with vinyl city
(minus spit of property papa bought)
manicured bumped uglies with wild wisp
reduced pristine niche leftover jot haven
squawking disoriented geese instincts
thwarted, where drained wetlands
a Arcadian past suburbanization
overlaying (palimpsest like) rural setting
trademark bucolic print Currier And Ives
stock in trade signature prints
landscape sparse human population
country aire sprinkled with family farms
fresh dairy, produce, vegetables
butchered animals free ranging
without synthetic injections
nostalgia faintly recreated here
Highland Manor Apartments
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
a slip of country revered
against a Paul Ling urbanization
nothing appears familiar
retracing roadways now major highways
frequent moments breeds alienation
familiar ground confusing, frightening, and perplexing.
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
Her parents thought she was a failure. Her classmates thought she was a freak. Society thought she was ****** up. Her best friend thought she was amazing, and beautiful. Everything her best friend said to build her up was destroyed a million times over. For every 'beautiful' she got 10x more 'uglies'. For every 'wonderful' 20x more 'failures'. Her best friend could never keep her up for long. So he girl fell. Down, down, down. Into a pit of darkness. She couldn't get out of it, so she ended it. The pain, the sadness, the darkness. Now she's floating on clouds, looking down at the friend she left behind. Watching her break, crash, and be consumed in despair. She weeps, knowing she should be down there helping her. But she can't. All she can do is watch as her friend prepares the chair, and hangs he rope. Watch as her body swings, and her soul flies up to join hers. Two girls-broken beyond belief. Forgotten and abandoned by the world. Truly tragic.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
Haven’t you heard
The howling’s on tap
Even the birds bump
uglies and love a night cap
Uglies? Why uglies
I think I disagree
With that phrase entirely
Some transparent ploy by the religious patriarchy
I guess we don’t bump uglies
But it rolls off the tongue
Either way
Thump and bump
Smush and ****
Hillbillies and heretics and hummingbirds and Haye’s
All have to howl
Then heckle the other
For doing the same
So please for the love of
Patricia who can’t say ******* and the Preacher’s daughter down the lane
Lets just agree to oust ****** shame
Jun 25, 2020
Jun 25, 2020 at 2:46 AM UTC
I am a young woman with a body below average in a world full of super models and good looking people. I don’t know why I can’t just accept the fact that im unattractive and move on… try to live a happy life. I obsess over every little space… every crevice.. every centimeter. Anything that is me i cannot enjoy. My mind is an ugly gutter filled to the brim with words like knives that dig in. I would never speak the things i think out loud. Never would i ever say something so nasty to someone i care for… not even someone I hate because i know this constant stream of lyrics i sing to myself could be enough to push anyone over the ledge. Brush it off at first. It didn’t really hurt. But every day filled with self inflicted pain.. mean mind games. It can **** Why have guns when our mouths are perfectly capable. Shiny uglies and crippling kisses goodbye don’t count as ****** it was just a game to play alone. How many calories can i not eat? Im so ******* unhappy.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
from bumping uglies to
changing diapers warming formula
to cleaning *****
watching every move
the evolution
of shaking the tree of life
to see what fruit falls
out
to making sure they have apples
or oranges along with cheese
sandwiches a bit of chocolate
in their pail as they board that bus
going off to adolescence
where the latest shoes become a two hundred dollar
necessity
the latest Apple phone or I-pad or drone
then prom night and it is all going so fast until
you find that letter they send on Father's day or your Birthday
saying how good their life is
and you smile
knowing that is how the circle comes around
and then next thing you know
the grandchildren are here
and your wrinkles and double chin grin
with pride
finally realizing
what it is all
about, as they leave two babies with you
on their date night. And you are happy as all get out!
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 1:30 AM UTC
Take the mask off when you speak to
me.
I know what you are.
No need to sugar coat those words for
me.
You're a monster, beautiful and scary
and 'twisted' into an elegant knot.
You don't have to hide from me.
The hiss when you talk is enchanting.
Don't be shamed your just like
me.
Those pointy horns create a gorgeous silhouette and
Those terrible thoughts pulsing through that deformed skull of yours.
The ones that can't be revealed even in death.
Say them. Converse with
me.
Forget the pleasantries, the politeness say them to me in your crooked way.
let us exchange our terrible thoughts.
let the world grimace and ostracise us.
Don't try to be like them
we're outsiders.
Destined to spoil there pretty picture.
Mutants. Uglies. Nut-jobs.
Destined to waltz on the edges of society.
Hanging, on loosely to our humanity.
They don't understand our song.
We'll make our own world.
Where our thoughts are so free, they fly through the streets.
Where we love to love and we love too much.
Take if off, we have each other.
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 12:41 PM UTC
Love, I know you worry about how this journey will be.
But can I ask you a favor?
Can we just cherish each passing days?
Can we just be thankful that maybe finally destiny had smiled on us?
Can we just treat each other as blessings given from up above?
Can we just appreciate each others' company?
Can we just savor the moment?
Can we just live it up?
Can we just revel on our feelings?
Can we just dig in on this fancy stage of our life?
Can we just enjoy the ride?
Coz honey I also worry as much as you,
But I don't wanna let it stop me from relishing the present
Love, can we just love each others' beauties and uglies?
I will always love you anyway
So be still my love, I'm here to stay
I love you
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 6:07 AM UTC
In Front of This Crowd
This is it.
I’m up
Here I go in front of this crowd
As I'm prepared to pull the best performance of my life and distract myself from the fact that my lunch is about to leave my stomach!
Wait…
Did… My stomach just rumble?
Did my… mic just catch that??
Great…
Not my best first impression....
I try to recover as quickly and swiftly and smoothly as possible
But I'm back to fumbling and stuttering and I drop… my… notebook.
GREAT!
I sneak a peek at the crowd and I see some snickering.
Some impatient stares, half of them even mixed with anger.
Some gave a sympathetic nod to continue
I stammer a quick apology and continue introductions
All the while thinking “This is just the introduction…”
As I clear my throat some more, I hear a couple of hecklers boo me.
I even hear one say “Either get on with it or GET OFF THE STAGE!”
Another member of the crowd shushes the heckler, “Give him a chance! You might upset him!”
But it was too late.
I'm not sure what clicked within me, but something ignited within me.
Something that makes me want to prove the hecklers wrong.
No. To shut them up!
Next thing I knew?
I close my eyes,
Took a breath
Looked at my notebook
And spoke.
And I continued to speak and read aloud the scribbles in my notebook that only I understand.
Words that slip out of my mouth like a thief in the night!
Suddenly, the crowd wasn't there anymore
It was just me
Me and my reflection
The same reflection who is my biggest fan and my biggest critic.
The same reflection whom I practiced with day and night.
Yes, that same reflection that I stare into since as far as I remember!
Yes. That reflection, whom I nodded to in confidence and who nods back as to say “you got this.”
And the words continue to spill
The crowd suddenly filled with ooh’s and aah’s.
I’m back on earth
Back In front of this crowd
But I continue to speak
Speak with hurt, heartache, joy, pain, laughter, tears, inspirations and frustrations that has been haunting me my whole life
I continue to speak
Despite the fact I'm nervous
I continue to speak.
Despite the fact that there are butterflies bumping uglies in my stomach. (Which, by the way, I would highly appreciate if they stop that.)
I continue to speak!
I continue to speak for the most painful, grueling,agonizing, longest 3 minutes of my life!
And then I'm finished.
I finish speaking as I take a leek back to the crowd
Some speechless.
Some have their mouths wide open in awe
Some are even smiling.
And then the crowd applause
I stare in awe of what just happened.
What I just done in front of this crowd.
And then I snap out of it
And quickly blurt out
“Thank you! Be sure to follow me on Instagram at writingsilhouette! That’s W R I T I N G S I L H O U E T T E at instagram! BYE!”
By: Curtis “Sillo” Jones
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 3:18 PM UTC