"unsavory" poems
[I accidentally deleted this, so now I'm reposting it]
This is not an attack, it is expression.
*This apparently isn't a very popular subject,
but then again, when has popularity changed anyone's mind..*
--
**** the 'Selective Service System'; the SSS.
It's neo-conscription.
FDR made us a deal we couldn't refuse
which included a stipulation
that about half of us still cannot refuse:
Selective Service
also known as
Peacetime Draft
But only for males. Only the males.
Not the females, though. Oh, no, not the females;
We need the Females
to bake the next batch of mindless soldiers/housewives/neoslaves.
We need the women to uphold the status-quo.
We need our women
to remain passive, docile, and beautiful ******* doormats
for our glorious and infallible western society.
We need our women
to be complaint, subservient, sex-starved, archaic-gender-role embodiments.
I see it as overtly 'cherry-picking' as well as misogyny both ways;
sexist, selfish, and prejudiced on both sides:
'Feminists' (read: Feminazis) claim to plea for true gender equality, but here is my plea:
If such is true, where then are their demands for mandatory selective service?
Why do they feel above reproach when it comes to the unsavory sides of society?
Why do they turn a blind eye to the ******* Draft if they ***** up such a storm about equality?
Why is it not a federal offense punishable by a $250,000 fine as well as up to 5 years in prison
for a female to not sign their life away to the military from when they turn 18 until at least 25?
How is that 'gender equality'?
Huh?
They, too, are cherry-picking.
-
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
Billy loved his parsnip
He'd tend it day and night
To keep it safe from prying eyes
He stashed it out of sight
But one eventful morning
He awoke to such alarm
His parsnip had gone from puny
To the size of a baby's arm
Such growth was nigh unheard of
In a vegetable or fruit
So he bore it proud before him
Grasped expertly by the root
When he showed his doting mother
She was mightily impressed
So screamed a lot then swooned a bit
While clutching at her chest
The people at the bus stop
Shared his mother's admiration
But advised him that his tuber
Needed urgent relocation
So he took it in a taxi
Wrapped up in folded gauze
To the Guinness book of records
And he pushed apart the doors
His parsnip held protruding
With a confident advance
Like a knight atop his charger
With a huge organic lance
But security had seen him
They quickly knocked him flat
A policeman saw his parsnip
And he hid it with his hat
Billy served his sentence
For unsavory displaying
He changed his name to Danny
There's no record where he's staying
The moral of this sorry tale
Is far too dull to write
So learn your ****** vegetables
And know their names on sight
**
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
Amadou awakened with a start, it was Omar one of the guardians(security guards) of Yaldagou (the largest Hospital in the capital of Burkina Faso) knocking on the window of his taxi, Amadou had just settled down for the night after a long day in the heat and fumes that was Ouagadougou it was just after midnight on Sunday, he struggled to wake up rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Omar explained in Mori(local language), that there were two white people in need of his special service.
After a quick explanation that someone had died in a private clinic nearby and the body needed to be transported to the morgue at Yaldagou, he snapped out of his sleepiness and thought for a moment how much he could charge the rich white people, it was two days after Eid and as a strict Muslim he had been celebrating the holidays and now he had been offered an opportunity to supplement his taxi income, someone had to do it and it was an unsavory job and anyway on the few occasions he had done it, it had been lucrative, it might as well be him!
Amadou thought to himself, if you had the misfortune to die in the day time there was a private service but in the night dignity went out the window and it was up to people like Amadou and a select bunch of taxi drivers with seats that could be configured to accommodate the corpses of the recently deceased to perform this service, so taxi 87 driven by Amadou would take this lady who had died from kidney and other ***** failures, after struggling for some days she eventually lost her battle and slipped into unconsciousness and finally died.
Amadou finally settled on 10000 CFA(local currency) a fair price, after all the so-called professionals would charge 30000 CFA three times more and it was around Eid "Allah Akbar".
A quick "Thank you" to Omar for helping them and the two white people left with him for the short journey to the clinic, after the usual discussions the body was released and transported to the morgue to join the other recently deceased waiting for burial in the morning,
Amadou, rearranged the seating in his taxi after parking up in his favourite place under the trees of Yaldago it was just after one thirty, a good ninety mins work he thought to himself, yawned, and settled down to sleep a few more hours before dawn prayers.
This was Africa and "someone had to do it" was his last thought.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
This is a formal complaint to one Cupid
on behalf of the population of earth.
We find that you've become somewhat,
how can we put it mildly....
unsavory
ever since you started drinking. We've
found that you have not been taking
your job seriously at all since that time
We were understanding at first. Your
job? It's not an easy one. It tolerates
almost no failure, and requires both
physical and mental capacity that is
beyond what most of us can spare.
However...we feel that the alcohol is
affecting your judgement and character
in a way that we can no longer accept.
Below, we've listed the particularly
heinous abuses of your power
1. Taking bets on what you can make people fall in love with. John is now smitten with a cactus while Jenny can't stay away from the inflatable Santa Claus on the Morgans' lawn.
2. Having very attractive women fall in love for your...erm...personal pleasure. That's just offensive
3. Having members of the same family fall in love. The vulgarity of it all is just appalling! It's an ****** epidemic!
4. Shooting your arrows at Rhinoceroses and then laughing as they charge a poor unsuspecting person is not funny.
5. Likewise, shooting an unsuspecting person and having them fall in love with a Rhinoceros who doesn't reciprocate is equally unfunny
6. Last, but not least...Please fix the Republican Candidates. Mitt Romney and Rick ******** are trying to get married next week. While I'm happy that they are now "for" gay marriage, this cannot be tolerated.
So? Do you have anything to say for
yourself? Is that alcohol I smell on your
breath? You don't even care, do you?
Well...we have no choice but to revok---OW!
Oh dear.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
The Little Boy child, Sitting in the Dust on the edge of the Porch that protruded from the Leaning shack of a Building. Extended forward his arm, Opened His Hand, Palm UP and Begged for "Just a CRUMB of Bread, Kind Sir? " The Pleading Eyes, Tearing from fear and Frustration, Peered deeply into the Crowds of People as they passed by. Waiting, Just waiting, for ONE to come forward and Place a small Morsel of BREAD or some other Fine Delicacy that would provide the Ultimate delight of Lasting Taste!! " Just a CRUMB of Bread, Kind Lady ? " Still, the crowds as they passed by, would only Stare in Dismay and continue on their way. BUT not without great Pangs of Compassion STARTING to tug on them ! ! The Smirks and Unsavory comments, such as, " Don't go near Him, He might have a Disease", "Make sure it's not a trap", "Don't even look at Him", "Such a disgrace, that child should be put in an Orphanage", " I,can't believe that's Permitted". . . . The SOBBING child only raised His head a Little Higher and Silently Muttered to Himself as the Many crowds of people continued to PASS BY. Perhaps a Hundred people have Passed by today, the Child thought, and not ONE offered even a helpful Smile or provided a Small CRUMB of Nourishing delight ! ! Where were they all going? The Child Mused,,,,,ALL I simply wanted was "Just a CRUMB of Bread" ! Unable to understand His Dilemma, the Child folded His arms across his chest, Hung his head and began to SOB Deeply.,,, SITTING in the DUST, Just waiting for a CRUMB of Bread! " IS there not ONE out there who would but share ONE Portion of their Plenty?" ___ The Sobbing Suddenly stopped! __ A Great feeling of Joy, Peace , Serenity and Comfort Enveloped over the Child's BODY ! AS the LORD took the Child unto HIS ***** and Breathed the Everlasting LIFE INTO him ! From Now on, the child would NEVER again ask______"JUST A CRUMB OF BREAD , KIND SIR ! "_______...
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 3:06 AM UTC
Intensity for you wavers not
Your lips pure *******
Love stronger than the drugs
Coursing through my shallow veins
I am searching for a way to repair
That will stop gnawing emptiness
I swear there's no fairness in this world
I am waiting, I only see less and less
Contentment is clearly decreasing
Do not know where it keeps on running to
Am tracking with the tools I have
Navigation here is hard to do
Thoughts and devoted feelings intersect
Wish my mind was a blank slate
Yearn to eject unsavory parts
Pull out of this unhealthy state
I will be addicted to you for life
Inhale the smoke that makes up who you are
Sweet smell of nostalgia and lost intimacy
I face the pain of another scar
Terrible remains will be all that is left
Part of me forever gone and departed
Human weakness flows through my blood
You are a drug I wish I had never started
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC
Lucid dreaming, I sit
in a downtown lounge,
swirling ice in my drink, listening
to tiny 'bergs creaking and cracking.
I raise the glass to my lips and
imagine the taste of Shackleton's whisky, after those
100 years in Antarctic ice, assimilating a tinge of penguin, a pinch of
blubber, the turbulence of the sea, the still of the frozen mountains across the tundra, the desolation, the tenacity of survival, the bitter numbing cold, mixed in with
the warm peaty oaken goodness of Scotland at the other end
of the world.
Through the soles of my boots I sense the
thin surface tension keeping my body, the table and chairs
from plunging into the frozen deep that
lurks somewhere beneath the Lower East Side, black and still,
waiting
waiting.
The band starts up in the
next room.
A curtain parts and a blast of brass escapes, a great honking
sound that
reverberates in a molar,
before
a female voice lifts me from my chair, drawing me toward
the source.
Pushing across the floor like Nureyev on ice, I slide deftly between amorous
couples, skirt the co-ed queue at the toilets, dodge the woman at the curtain collecting the cover charge, nod at my pal the bouncer returning to his post and finally
glide/float/fly through the velvet drapery,
focused on the rising soprano.
It's just a dream, I think. Why pay cover?
*Ode to the Living Room
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:29 AM UTC
~~~
a poem derived from these words of
Joel M Frye
"Poetry is a self-policing agency, enforcing nothing
~~~
The Truth Burden
is the accursed need obligatory,
the sacred sanctity requisitioned,
when the whenever,
chooses to drops in and
upflag the mailbox,
an uninvited invitation,
announcing with precise bluntness,
that precisely now,
is the tool crafted moment
and you fool,
are the selected tool
you must render unto Ceaser,
by your own hand,
render your own rendering,
do your own undoing,
go forth and in haste,
will thyself into the cauldron of the
Great Mystery of Creation
you cannot lie in poetry
-one can only validate-
you will tell the whole truth,
and nothing but,
all in good order,
to secure me to thee,
to muddle
our molecular cocktail mix,
you must,
must give only
truth in poetry,
or give
nothing
police yourself
in every aleph bet,
don't substance abuse us with deceit,
give only your unburdening,
force us to lip kiss
when
we face each other,
when
pronouncing the blessed script of
ourselves,
that we have been granted by sharing
each other's unvarnished lettres
the burden is
to un burden
cut out what needs
to be bridged from
the secret walled-in safe,
and give form, life and breath,
expose it to the atmosphere,
reform your bleak introspection
and white horseradish bitter realism,
turn blue blood veined internal
into an amberina red,
all by being
unsaved, unsavory, unsafe
you are the enforcer,
you are the police,
you are the validation
and the validator,
enforcing this sole law,
police your self,
give us
with no agent in between,
give us
nothing but,
a voice
one will recognize instantly
as the whole fats milk of
truth
oh, how I will embrace thy
one and only,
when given,
your
one and only
for do we dare disagree that is
each other's truths that
shall set us free?
•••
for we are the inhabitants,
of this wild land of
no inhibitions,
no rule of laws,
except one,
defend the essence,
protect the defenseless integrity,
promote the mystery of the
human poem
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 9:21 AM UTC
A Parody
Brigitte my love
Our Country suffers of many debts
The people are restless
Whatever shall we do love?
Ah Macron, we must think past the cookies
The solutions are complex, answers evasive
Let me speak with Marie Antoinette, she shall know!
Queen of Navarre, By god we shall be saved!
Marie, Marie Antoinette our people are restless
Our republic is in debt. these are crazy times!
Whatever shall we do?
I am fed up, allons-y
Ah fear not, if they have not bread!
Let them eat Nutella!
Lower the prices
Nutella for the masses!!!
Marie, are you sure? very very sure of such things?
Oui oui, on with it, my father was emperor of Rome
Nutella will calm the masses
Come here Nemo. taste, see even Nemo is tres happy now!
And so France lowered the prices of Nutella
Thus began the nouveau French Revolution
Riots in the streets, brawling in the magasins
The uprising has began, we want our Nutella for free
The masses rose
Nutella for all, Nutella for sans prix
We are all somewhat fou for Nutella you see!
And so the masses fought each other for Nutella's liberty
Nutella one and Nut Ella all!
I swear to your Brigette
We should have given them Macarons!!!
People remain civilized with cafe and cookies! n'est pas?
Emmanuel my love, fret not
The revolution shall be quelled
Qh I have the perfect person for this
He shall restore order to our dear republic
Prey tell Brigette? Who could do such a thing now
Riots everywhere, the masses fight each other daily?
The streets are not safe
There is a shortages of Nutella now, we are doomed cheri
Non non mon amour, I shall call Alizee
She shall sing us out of the terrible mess
She is the mistress of Doug McMillion
This man can save us all!!
Brigitte, who is this man you call Doug?
Why Emmanuel he is the president of Walmart
He has squashed many Black Fridays rebellions
He shall save us all!!!!!!
From these unruly unsavory Nutella shoppers!!!!!
Vive la France!
Vive Alizee
Mange ton macaroon mon cheri
C'est ton droit et ta liberté
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
im full of my self
a cacophony
of unsavory menacing
radiating ideation's
of the twilight
color me
darkness
when ever i see
six six six
i always think
*** *** ***
petition the church
for my exorcism
cleans me oh lord
i need an enema
purge me
of small thoughts
and big talk
perhaps
i could be good
like
nice weather
a phone number
or
a
*******
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 7:03 PM UTC
i am a ****** ryhmist
for i arrange words in a bouquet
in hope that flower of syllables would bloom
to give you fresh-cut flowers scent or unsavory stench
but again, who cares?
they said
words are meaningless
and forgetable
so here i am
trying to make sense out of nonsense
saying nothing more than cries for help
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
When I watch movies alone,
sometimes
even something just
mildly sad
makes me cry.
Something that would
make others give
an empathetic nod
or let out an
exasperated sigh
makes me
weep.
I chalk it up to
good writing, good
acting.
Character attachment is
so important.
But really, it
just feels good
to have a reason to
sob like that.
Salty tears and
bitter groans,
go down just a little bit
sweeter
when a sad scene in a movie
justifies their
unsavory appearance.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
Why in the big government today,
are there so many politics,
and not enough policy.
Why are we like the mice to their cat,
as we run and scrounge,
and they grow fat.
Why do we sit and let them decide,
when incompetency and latency,
strip us of our pride.
As we sit and choose who is best,
we forget that these men must pass a test,
it is not about who has better hair,
or whether they say their daily prayer.
The test should be one of valor and bravery,
someone who can fight for our safety,
one who is even-keel and not unsavory,
and most importantly
someone who saves us from slavery.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
Forsaken identity
Distant nature
Deepening chasm
Between worlds
Tired minds
Clichéd diktats
Concentrated power
High-handedness
Iron fists
Crushed rebellion
Tired souls
Unsavory history
Swelling disharmony
Point of no return
Given a chance
Missed opportunities
For many centuries
Time to wrap up
The hegemony
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
Two strange hearts falling in one love--
Deep bowl of broth--is a mystery.
Baking eyes tossing off a fancy loaf
Ere the mouth that desires fare velvety.
Once the tommy the spot hits, culinary
Delights--instead of repeating upon
The tongue--become unsavory.
Hand, picking at the spread of affection.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
too young for Her touch
too young for Her need
she took from me power
at the foot of Her greed
though lovely Her lines were
she passed over bounds
submission desire
was all that i found
a score and half later
only now do i ask
what set Her in motion
this unsavory task
i yearn to know peacefuls
i ache to know sane
though Her unripened taking
is my heart's fruitful bane
Dec 26, 2010
Dec 26, 2010 at 10:27 PM UTC
And who can blame me
for such wanderlust,
none of this is my fault,
I carry it deep in my chest,
my heart pumps hard,
it's genetic.
I come from along line of fierce nomads,
who blew like grains of sand
over the endless dunes
of never never lands.
They were dreamers too.
Scorched by the sun
tested by hellfire,
some were liars,
lied to protect the bloodline
from unsavory foes.
And did you know
we breathed the same air
as Caesar & Alexander & Genghis
& lesser warriors.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Pouring a glass of skim milk
and squeezing a bottle of
Hershey's chocolate syrup
into the glass,
until the last drop is drained
from its wheezing container
Watching, as the chocolate
settles at the bottom of the
glass, creating a barrier
between the creamy ivory
and the sticky, rich brown.
Taking a spoon
and putting it in the glass,
stirring up the milk and
forcing it to take on
the identity of the chocolate,
the spoon clinking merrily
as it churns two very
distinct substances
into one entity:
The milk with the
brown sugar coating,
Allowing for you
to think for a moment:
the skim milk
doesn't taste so bad.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 3:29 PM UTC
No one wants
the bitter truth!
And so we savor the lies
that drain from their lips like syrup.
Even syrup has that bitter taste at the end!
❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
your soft lips made mine feel soft too
my plain self effloresced under your fingers.
your touch made me quiver
your kiss sent a shiver
down
my spine
signs of fear and confusion
passion was our mistaken conclusion
or maybe that mistake was solely mine.
looking back,
the quickening of my heartbeat was a warning, not an answer
electricity can warm you
but it can burn too
i was prepared for the spark
but not for the consuming flames
i felt the unsavory heat of embarrassment not long after
grappled for an explanation as i flailed into uncertainty
who's to say where i faltered?
only you, but you've gone mute.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 12:19 AM UTC
busy pitter patters
of feet, at least
pretending
to be busy
these humans,
these flesh sacks,
place their bags
laptops
their unconsciousness
on this barnes & noble’s
coffee tables
whose chairs aren’t comfortable
yet, here they sit, beside me
amongst me
and an old
ancient, it seems now,
version of me would’ve cursed them
silently
while pretending to associate
to relate
to give a ****
for doing so,
for raising my anxiety,
for reflecting what i truly was,
at least
pretending
to identify with that narrow
window of my self
some collide
physically,
cosmically,
spiritually,
intuitively, whatever the hell you brand it
we all seek
connection,
always elsewhere,
never with our miserable
anxious selves
and if we can’t connect
we, at least
pretend
to do so
much like our riddling iphones
desperate for battery
for a sort of
charge
for life
elsewhere
somewhere else
anywhere
else rather than within
to be alone, amongst the crowds,
without our phones, our books,
our lovers, our seven dollar coffees,
our ******* egg white breakfast sanwhiches
almost as if these things
are essential to the unsavory
cravings and desires, or
dare i say
ourselves
we pretend
to work, to live
we read, without reading
we speak, without thinking,
we speak, without speaking,
“to be, or not to be.”
we don’t care for
intention
anymore
how could we?
we’re just so
un-fucking-phadomably
busy
doing
nothing,
at all
just,
pretending.
-melanholicreator
Feb 24, 2024
Feb 24, 2024 at 6:46 PM UTC
I am not found loud in revelry-
in the noise of the night I am quiet
without the distinct need for rioting definition.
Not to debase their need
or to glorify my sweet bashful greed.
For peace, is something I crave, unsatisfied- I am unsavory.
The noise brings meaning to:
Ring in the New Year.
I find your little cries delightful, a better noise:
the groans of sleepy pleasure shrouded in night-
which is full of cupped spoons soon to be rinsed clean.
Deemed sparkling humanity,
with the presence of goodwill
presenting a better side of selflessness.
It is good medicine for a creative ego.
Aug 18, 2011
Aug 18, 2011 at 8:30 PM UTC
He floats, adrift over wine-dark depths,
Veins of denial and luciferin,
Dressed in silk ribbons, deceptive in their innocence,
The discarded robe of a fallen monarch.
He glides, elusive, over nothing, solitary in his rule,
Unmoored and untouchable, even to a hand offering solace,
For fear that this same hand may tether him to an unsavory reality.
Lying to himself, the king of falsity and bioluminescence.
Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 1:25 PM UTC
Bleeding In my own wold
I am serene
I am ******* buddah
An exemplary exhibit of how
To be calm in a storm
How to stand on my own in the waves
That crush my shoulders
That smash my chest
That bring me to my knees
**** the rules
And I defy the gods of this world
I raise my voice
In a defiant hymn
I rebel
I exist through my will
And I will not be brought low
I am flesh blood and bone
I am because I am
And my thoughts roam these
Unsavory waters
I will fight these demons
I will become what I may
And relentless I will purge
My soul
I scream till my eyes bleed
And I know what it means
To eat the heart of my enemies
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 10:48 PM UTC