"ugliest" poems
A green eyed monster within,
in behaviour satan's akin.
Other's possessions are his attraction,
flies on wings of dissatisfaction.
Hopes more for other's loss than his gain,
can take ugliest of forms without constraint.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
The Insecurities are flourishing,
A gorgeous garden is my mind—
But the weeds keep growing in.
Media like kryptonite—weakening my self esteem.
—Thoughts of a young child never knowing what to believe.
I lie awake in bed at night staring at the ceiling.
If only the notion could suffice in finding the words—
For the void I'm feeling in my life,
But it isn't simple.
Pure corruption of my mind,
Perfect pictures,
Flawless figures,
The images I can't erase.
Uncomfortable in my own skin—
What do I do to feel safe?
Do I drown myself in ink—to cover up the imperfections?
Instead of talking—walk and let my skin scream the self-expression?
Or do I return to the blank stare in the mirror?
The words are on repeat.
Who am I to think I’m beautiful—when I myself can’t see?
Who am I to think I'm valuable—when there is no self-confidence there?
Who am I to think I'm worthy—when I myself don't feel?
The insecurities keep flourishing.
A gorgeous garden was my mind,
But the weeds kept growing in.
Media like kryptonite—weakening my self esteem.
Thoughts of a young child,
--Never knowing what to believe.
One night as I lie awake—I hear my subconscious scream out to me.
The most attractive people do the ugliest of things,
The true beauty you want is what’s imprisoned within.
Why stop your happiness to return to a place—
—A place where you feel so alone?
Why do the tears flow?
You're killing yourself—
And you fail to realize
Your own self-doubt is the knife!
Pessimism,
The negative thoughts building inside—
They’re just as bad as the razorblade that kisses your skin as you sit in silence...
Why are you hurting yourself?
Temporary pain is only a distraction,
You were blessed and shaped by the hands of God.
What more could you possibly ask for?
Appearance is not everything.—
Stop the self-consciousness and live your life.
—acknowledge that you —are your worst —enemy...
I open my eyes.
The cries have ceased,
I return to the blank stare in the mirror.
The words are on repeat.
Who am I to think I’m beautiful—when I myself can’t see?
Who am I to think I'm valuable—when there is no self-confidence there?
Who am I to think I'm worthy—when I myself don't feel?
But it’s different this time,
My reflection speaks.
Saying no—
Who are you not to?
Your imperfections are beautiful.
Beautiful enough for the heart that is meant to love you,
Believe in yourself.
No more self doubt,
No more lost soul.
—No more insecurities flourishing,
A gorgeous garden is my mind.
No more weeds keep growing in,
Media is not my kryptonite,
No more weakening of my self esteem,
Thoughts of a young child finally unshackled —and free.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
No, it doesn't happen
Through secret glances
And shy smiles
Nor does it happen
When you gaze into ones
Deep crystal eyes
It doesn't happen
In the midst of flashlights
Or romantic background music
It happens
When you see deep within
Ones soul
Not just the window
But the whole house of emotions
It happens
When he grows meadows of daisies
Inside the ugliest parts of you
It happens
When he caresses your tear stained face
In 2 in the morning
And holds you like you're gold
It happens
When you're upset over him
Not being there for your little fits
It happens
When the suitcases under your eyes
Are packed
With thoughts of him
And only him
It happens
When you're too young
To fully comprehend
What the universe holds for you and him
But what if
At a tender age of fifteen
You know he's the one?
The one
That holds the perfect fit
To your broken soul
It happens
When you least want it to
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
Age 4, Your father broke your heart before any boy had the chance too.
Your life will be completely different without a father
Age 5, No one to call you princess
You cry when you see your friend's father call them princess
Age 6, No one to hug you when you cry from bullies
You hate going to school
Age 7, No one to tell you "I'll beat up every guy that hurts you"
You don't get to laugh when he says that
Age 8, No one to tell you are beautiful
You hate your body and think your fat
Age 9, No one to tell you "It's okay"
You cry yourself to sleep every night
Age 10, No one to tell you, "You are perfect"
You think you are the ugliest person in your school
Age 11, No one to tell you, "You are too young for boys"
You get your heart broken over and over too young
Age 12, Your father is not there
You miss him and ask yourself why he left
Age 13, Being told you have "Daddy Issues"
Age 14, No father to tell you, "You look beautiful without make up"
You beat your face with make up
Age 15, No father to say to your first date, "If you hurt her, I will **** you"
You get hurt
Age 16, No one to dance with you when they call in daddy daughter dance on your sweet sixteen
You ask yourself why he left again
Age 17, No one to tell you to change out of that clothes because he knows guys couldn't resist
You might get *****
Age 18, No one to tell you, "My little princess, you have come so far, I am a proud father"
You see all your friend's father telling them this and miss you
Age 19, No one to warn you about ***** boys
You have to fight off a guy
Age 20, No one to tell your boyfriend, "I have a rifle, I am not afraid to use it"
You don't get to say "Dad!!!"
18+ age, No one to walk you down the aisle
You tell yourself, "I made it, I made it through the good and bad"
You have a husband or wife or neither, you made it without him.
You made it through the tears, the heart aches, the pain of missing him. He missed your whole life, you realize he didn't deserve you or seeing your life grow.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 1:29 AM UTC
Jealously's a you-know-what
I hate her with a passionate rage
My heart barely harbors this feeling
But every emotion has a stage
Jealousy should go away now
No one loves her, she's uncool
She just makes me look bad
I let her use me like a tool
Jealousy is the ugliest of all
She lurks in my mind until I break
Her clammy hands suffocate my heart
I end up giving what she wants to take
Jealousy lives everywhere
She's a million places at a time
Toss her in the fire, my dear
Just wait, and out she'll climb
Jealousy is the only one I truly hate
She's ruined perfectly good days
Get lost, you stupid imposter!
You're always misleading our ways!
Jealousy reeks of insecurity
Hungry and scared like a forgotten pet
But Jealousy doesn't play nicely
She just builds and builds regret
Jealousy is always hiding
You never know where she might be
Keep an eye on your heart and mind
She's always looking for another lost key.
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
There's this little thing who was born in the sewer
Her name, they all say, is Society
Pretends she's all that, but she's really nothing newer
They say she never once spoke the truth.
Society likes to pick in the brains of young girls
Likes to meanly whisper in their ears,
"You're fat, you're worthless, you're the ugliest there is!"
What good does that do? It brings them to tears.
Society likes to mess with the minds of young boys
Likes to torment them by teasing,
"You're skinny, you cry, you aren't manly enough!"
Society makes sure it sure isn't pleasing.
Society likes to mess with the minds of in-betweens or not-at-alls
Likes to belittle, judge, and taunt
"Why can't you be normal? No one likes you!"
It goes on and on. Society likes to daunt.
Society herself doesn't have a care in the world
She never thought once about anyone's feelings
All day she picks at everyone she can find
All night she waits for them to wake, on their ceilings.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 2:27 PM UTC
Hey kid, you've been dead a few weeks and I'd just like to say hello. The ground has its first December coat of fragile snow over your dead body and I know you can't feel the cold but I'll tell you right now, I can see my frozen toes, just barely move them, breathe up into the sky, Id be lying if I said I still cry every day. But, I'm lying to myself if I said that I'm not trying to take back your pain every day in a way that won't make your heart start beating again.
I wonder if those butterflies ever drank up the nectar from your blood, probed their soft tongues into the velvet of your cuts, those razor blade ribbons, oh holy romantic, how you bleed like Mozart and bleed like ballads of classic rock stars, how they whip your face with sour sweat and drugs and drugs and drugs until you find yourself half asleep, brain swept under the rug.
Did you know only 1.5% of drug overdose related suicide attempts are successful? Beautiful blonde martyr for an ugly catholic high school in an ugly state in the ugliest of its hearts, how does it feel to be 1 in 100? How does it feel to be a rarity, carbon pressed into diamond? How does it feel to be cry for a week, left in the grass to roll like waves, buried without a name and a face and a grave?
In the latest of solemn sleep deprived nights I press my ear to the chest of the 100th depressed boy I come across and don't feel Vicodin climbing up his arteries, don't feel Klonopin, OxyContin, Ibuprofen. I can't seem to find the one, who knows, maybe you were it and all my efforts really were wasted. All those nights I've stayed up late did nothing. All those knives I stole, all that blood I wiped away with t-shirt sleeves, all the blankets I've put around stupid shaking shoulders, all the bittersweet will this be the last time your skin is this warm hugs, God did they mean nothing at all?
I lock my jaw into a permanent silence, buy back time by putting my money where your knife is. I take bets on when someone will die next. I read the label on every bottle of Xanax. I roll over in my bed again and again, and try to put you to rest again.
Amen.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
Pale blank faces all scattered around
Pale blank faces can make the ugliest sound
Your pale blank face wasn't pale at all
See, your pale blank face made me fall
Your eyes showed the judgement of a 4 year old kid
Honest but sweet
Your smile was big so charismatic,
I could run off this world and you'd be one to believe this was real tragic
Your eyes and that smile are all that keep me here,
Because honest but sweet isn't much of a fear
And that big charismatic smile is all I can see
My eyes closed in the dark but smiling for I'm lucky to breath
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
Two images of flowers suddenly appeared up the sky
One with beyond compare beauty
While the other could be the ugliest ever seen
People studied them, but they seem a mirage
They just appeared out of the blue
Can’t be touched, an unexplained phenomenon
Until it became part of the daily life scenery
One day, the public smells a lovely scent
The most pleasant fragrance they’ve ever inhaled
They’ve looked at the beautiful flower
They’ve adored its gorgeousness
Noticeably the pretty flower seems to grow more
The next day, humanity smells some disgusting odor
The most unpleasant stench they’ve ever breath in
They’ve looked at the ugly flower
They’ve hated and cursed it
Visibly the unattractive flower shrunk
The next morning, human race smells another lovely aroma
Much more amusing than before
They’ve glanced at the sky
And there’s only one flower left
The most beautiful one
So they've dance and sang praises
Not knowing, that’ll be the last beautiful scent
They’ll ever inhale during their entire lives
10/21/2015
Mysterious Aries
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 5:22 AM UTC
egos as round as the vanity mirror's bulbs.
the negative correlation between personality,
and the amount of time spent putting on a face.
now, i don't throw this term around, as it is perhaps
one of the ugliest things you can be, but you are a
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC
They say jealousys the ugliest trait,but,
I can't help but feel the disgusting ping of envy when your smiling at her .
My throat clogs up with thirst for your attention .It angers me when you let there nasty slutty hands go up and down your biceps .
When they call you crazy red is all I see .
Don't you see what you do to me ?
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
-Light up a cliche under a streetlight
while singing "the Star Spangled Banner"
and receiving oral from a trans-woman.
**** in the drive-thru of an Arby's.
-Fist fight a bear that people
find much uglier than myself.
Made a bucket list of ****
I think might be legitimately worth doing;
haven't run it by my girlfriend yet.
Speaking of which,
she deserves a round of applause
for dealing with my melodramatic ********
-Strike a police officer,
after robbing a bank with a water pistol.
I wanted to call her to let her know
I'd chased a bird till it crossed the street
and tweeted at me in anger or excitement.
Flipping the bird "the bird", I shouted,
**** YOU BIRD!"
and continued home.
-Throw a rock at a train.
-Toss a Molotov Cocktail at a moving car,
and cook a hot dog in the flames.
She deserves a million dollars
and a ******* Nobel peace prize.
-Call one of those panhandling
money worshiping televangelists
a **** bird, and offer them to ****
themselves [the ugliest people I can think of].
-Wear a habit over a burka.
I don't believe in souls, soul mates,
anything supernatural or special,
but I love that woman,
and that's why I believe in love.
-Not die alone.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
What colour are Mondays?
Red? Well mine are.
The same colour
you’d imagine a headache to be,
tomatoes, morello cherries
or like a nosebleed.
Does that mean Tuesdays are blue?
That mouthwash shade,
brain-freeze after a Slushie.
Wednesdays? Perhaps purpley-pink
as burning potassium,
Parma Violets under your tongue.
Thoughts on Thursdays? Fake-tanned,
tangerine skin, the ugliest orange
for the ugliest day.
But Fridays are a healthier green,
think telephone-pole celery,
cucumber truncheons and kiwis.
Saturdays then? Funeral black
speckled with brown sugar
though Sundays are white.
Hurts-your-eyes-like-snow white,
almost transparent, for they come
and dash by with no tone in-between.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
I dated a girl, a pretty gal
I dated her and her pooch pal
You had to like her dog Pogo
You had to, or it was a no go.
She took the thing everywhere
And never in a pet carrier.
It was sort of a turnoff to me;
A kind of no-intrusion barrier.
Scoochie up to poochie
Or you I wouldn’t get no *******
Otherwise I was a pimple.
It was really just that simple.
She had the ugliest mutt
That I ever saw before
Like a brown **** rug
That was left outdoors.
It snuffled through teeth
That were hideously parted.
I thought it was stuffed
Until the creature farted.
Scoochie up to poochie
Or you I wouldn’t get no *******
Otherwise I was a pimple.
It was really just that simple.
I got nothing against animals
And I really do like dogs
But they should look like pups
Not chimera or warthogs.
I’d overcome the boundaries
Whenever I got the chance
But that ugly canine lump of fur
Put the kibosh on romance.
Scoochie up to poochie
Or you I wouldn’t get no *******
Otherwise I was a pimple.
It was really just that simple.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
Luna Tickle eats only pickles and ***** up all the brine
When her brother tells their mother she begins to whine:
“Yes I did it! And left no tidbit
Is that such a crime? My brother smells and raises hell
And leaves the loo full of slime.”
Now their mother dear began to fear her children were obstructions
Never listening, since their christening, and wished for their abduction
So she planned a slaughter and called her daughter
Outside to the woodshed, then chopped her neck in two
She put Luna’s head in her brother’s bed and said,
“Now, they’ll be no more Boo-Hoos”
Now you know of Luna and her tragic ending
But there’s more to this rhyme that’s pending
For the Tickle name is quite insane
And was never worth defending
But that’s just what her brother did
When Mrs. Tickle met Judge Knuckle
And almost flipped her lid
Screaming:
“I never liked that kid from the day she began to suckle!
Why she couldn’t be more like me, or her lovely sister Tess”
Twas all Mrs. Tickle could confess that day to Judge and jury
Until brother **** chimed-in and confessed his sin
And did so in such a fury, it was heard throughout and within
The entire state of Missouri:
“I am Richard Tickle and do confess I am not fickle
In fact I am quite pugnacious
If you do not see the circumstances like me
I’ll be forced to be disputatious”
Interjects Judge Knuckle:
“Boy, I’ll have you buckled this instance to electric chair
If you’re not scared I’ll be splitting hairs
In a place where the sun does not shine
So if you care, you’d best beware
Or your Gherkin will be in a brine”
Now Tess screamed out and her mother did shout
In perfect unison:
**** is my love and none the likes of any other hooligan”
At this there was a scuffle
Each dame was muffed and ruffled
They could not contain
All their angst and their pain
And it led to the ugliest tussle
For each thought ****
Was devoted to she
And apparently, this could not be
As we know of the trouble with Luna
So the jury was not out
Or even in doubt
Of these sinister makings and troubles
It was the sickest of affairs
Mass-producing glaring stares
From everyone within the court
Missouri Gazette’s headlines that day
Told of how they did slay
And burn the Tickle chalet
Leaving it in incestuous rubble
The lesson today to this horrific ballet
Is don’t live your life in a bubble
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
Passing through mid-century
these jazz oneironauts reached Apollonian heights
while society drifted into Dionysian drunkenness
the merchants caught on too soon
The most beautiful parts of humanity
enamored to serve the ugliest:
The merchant class, the bourgeoisie
Buddha’s undeserving in charge
If only in past centuries
those noble princesses embraced
even more lowly patronages
all this potential today could be staved off
Saved from the drive to be commodified
People stopped buying jazz as it reached its height
No more smiles to appease the whites
Jazz for the few
the noble, the individual in the know
Until this too becomes the simulacrum
The Ornette Coleman on the bookshelf
to signify your snootiness
your refinement from wealth
Aging Dads in thousand dollar sweaters
kicking out their 22 year old kids
for being ****** addled hipsters
meanwhile Bird on Verve is nodding out
and Dad’s girlfriend pops a Percocet
to deal with all the stress
Jan 15, 2022
Jan 15, 2022 at 10:50 AM UTC
the way she read books
was the way i looked at her;
interested and quietly
always on the edge of my seat
watching her beautifully move
without any cares
i loved when she blasted rock music in the car
and made me sing along
and i remembered she hated her voice
but all i could do was fall in love with it everyday
and yes this is in past tense because
i let go of the prettiest flower in the ugliest meadow
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
Four days of hunger
Four days so sweet
My stomach is angry
It's so mad at me
And the pain is lovely
It's sweet agony
And then I ate
I filled my tummy up
I binged until it hurt
More food; not enough
I don't want to weigh myself
I broke my own trust
I broke to binge
And I couldn't throw it up
It felt so good
But the guilt is too much
I feel so fat
But when I eat I feel love.
I'm breaking to binge
Eat anything in sight
Ninety-six hours
Ruined in one night
This lack of self-control
Is ruining my life.
Hunger hurts
But I want it so bad
Hunger hurts
But I miss what I had
I miss the hunger pains
Cause binging makes me sad
So I'm working to purge
I'm working on control
This dapper little dirge
Is a reflection of my soul
No one ******* cares
So no one needs to know.
No one ever stops me
So I'm not going to eat
Because the me in the mirror
Isn't the me I want to see.
If there was someone there
Maybe I'd be free.
Back to the cutting board
My goal was one-thirty
Back to the cutting board
Now one-twenty
Self-control
I like the sound of eighty.
I broke to binge
The ugliest sin
I broke for food
And now I brood
But I'm better again
I must be thin
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
Its about to get ugly up in here.
I'm talking
Worlds ugliest
Thalidomide baby
contest winner
Ugly.
I'm talking
Michael Jacksons
rotten *** corpse
falling apart
in the coffin
Ugly.
I'm talking
pasty ***
fat and sweaty
old white dude
in a Cambodian brothel
****** little girls
until he runs out of money
Ugly.
Its going to get ugly...
Standby.
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 5:04 PM UTC
When she became the prom queen,
She was the prettiest thing they’d ever seen.
Soft gold curls spill over her back,
Bright green eyes, no sign of decay inside.
A spotlight shines down enhancing her cream-colored gown.
She beams as she accepts the crown.
She kneels down and throws up blood.
Her head comes up in a white marble tiled bathroom,
Starting to stench.
Staring deep into the reflection in her mother’s mirror,
Slowly withering away.
Pills spill around the room
Sitting by the window
She stares into the sun.
Waiting for a crimson bouquet,
And a plastic tiara
She powders her face,
Peachy pink cheeks on pale white skin.
She colors her lips and paints on a smile
Slips on a dress that flows to the floor.
They call out her name,
Lost in a daze she walks out on stage,
Stands all alone.
And when they crowned me the prom queen
I was the ugliest girl I’d ever seen.
-Inside on the Other side
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC
Path less traveled, Path unknown.
Mountains, Sand, rocks and stone.
No water, vegetation so scarce.
Sun at its ugliest, sun so fierce.
In this wilderness I fear I'll get lost.
I dread I'll be ruined, I will exhaust.
Some say this road will never end;
More I travel, more it will extend.
Soothing sound tells me to continue;
Sun is yet to set, travel miles few.
The heat forces me into a slump.
Solacing sound gives goosebump.
Very soon the blazing sun will fade.
I search tree with hundred years of shade.
They say to give up in this dusty heat.
I seek Gardens with rivers underneath.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
I am the **** in your pristine garden,
Hidden between the Hollyhocks and Petunias,
Unwanted, I lift my head high,
Invasive, pervasive, you hate me.
You spray me with emotional roundup.
You wish I would simply go away
Crushed under your foot yesterday,
I wilted under your hate.
Resurrected by the creators love,
In joy I dance to his music,
That floats on the wind.
I am a rose of Sharon,
Planted firmly in the dirt.
Hated by you for just being,
The one who made me loves me,
He loves me unconditionally.
Planted in the wilderness,
Where he walks in search
Of those who seek his name.
If you see me know that, he is near.
Yet you hate me for being the ****
Invasive that shows up in the cracks,
Of your frequent well-beaten paths of hatred.
You stomp on me, mangled I lie still.
Revived by my God who loves me.
Someday he will do justice,
Someday he will show them mercy,
Them that failed to love his creation.
He animates me an earthen vessel,
With emotions triggered by fluid actions,
His loving smile, His tender touch,
In his love and goodness, I find joy.
The joy that effuses and rises to my brain,
Like a flooding sea of contentment,
Knowing that in him I have rest, I am secure and calm.
From your bitterness, that floods my feet,
He produces exquisite flowers and sweetest fruits.
Freely I give the love I receive,
As fragrance it wafts on the breeze,
Used to the smell of death and dying,
The Tanner smelling the fragrance of Love and Life faints.
They revive him with curing leather from the tannery.
Someday the tanner will appreciate fragrance,
Someday the night shift miner appreciate the light,
Someday those that cry for war will love peace,
Someday those that hate others learn to love.
Someday those that clang pots and pans in raucous cacophony,
Will find peace and quiet in his sweet rhapsodies and quiet melodies.
And the promoters of the ugliest of ugliness,
Love the beauty of God's creation.
Some day will this enslaved and captive soul fly free?
Forever free in the plains of Eternity.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
Is there someone out there that can make the insecure, secure?
The lost become found?
The weak become strong?
The introvert extrovert and all things in-between?
The ugly more beautiful?
The headedness and nightmares become more of a joke?
The sounds in the background become solid and free
Chuck out the garbage
The ties that bind thee
Those that put you in trouble of the deepest kind
The ugliest of mothers hellbent on revenge
Taking out pennies from someone else's den
Is there someone decent and cool
To help get along in the life of a fool?
I am the pest the irregular verb
Adjectives, hyphens the comma's full stop and nerds
All comprehensive found sometimes expensive
So you'll never know what kind of gift wraps inside
Quaky, Jackie, Stumble bunny and fall
Am running amok for the sake of it all
Sinderella what a fella
He went to the garden zoo
Played hokey cokey
Oh what a jokey
He even drank the soup
Happy Halloween you creeps!
© Bernard M Coldwell all rights reserved
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
I stood upside down on the watery
side of the sea line and looked at the
world I was standing on, the stars
blew out and re-appeared like the people
walking past the cafe bench. The guy
with the newsboy cap, made his
rounds around the city, a white-out inscription
on brick caught his attention:
“You anticipated
this time in another place.”
The daughter of the woman
behind the flower stand
draws chalked fish completed with
succeeding circles to indicate
bubbles, bubbles on the asphalt.
She was right: I had learned
to breathe underwater and as a litmus
test I turned my eyes to the single
tree on the island. It shivered
like seaweed. I went up to the stand
and purchased the ugliest peony,
the one with petals that were
chiseled like frozen waves.
I gave the lady
my last quarter and as I
turned around I saw the face of the guy
with the newsboy cap, only this time it was infinitely larger,
peeking over the horizon like the sun
when it first rises. And then, a hand coming up,
from under, fingers tapping from the other side,
taps reverberating through sky,
as though there was inside and outside
and this whole time I was
in an aquarium.
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 8:45 PM UTC