"untalented" poems
Income is an intangible,
Taxes are an intangible,
Neither exists right now,
Only the promise of it in the future...
That's what credit is... a bet against a promise.
Which means all of nothing,
since it hasn't happened yet,
all credit is risk of one degree or another,
...based on tolerance or gumption.
If all people are, "risky,"
then all credit is risk,
none can be more credit-worthy;
less risky...
So why not turn future liabilities into income,
instead of future income into a liability?
Hmm...
Impossible?
Yeah, ...since anything that gives ordinary people power must be impossible. Jesus must not believe in individual power. The Founding Fathers must not have believed in individualism. No, ...only the state backed by a selected wealthy few should determine everyone's fate by economy.
Only a few should have it all....
...no opportunity for anyone else; the weak, poor, untalented, ugly, simple, ordinary, dumb, handicapped; those ones don't matter.
Just NFL players count.
Only singers and actors count.
Only bankers and doctors matter.
Jesus would agree.
Makes so much sense?
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
Rap is crap
Can be written while napping
By simply slapping words like zapping
Up alongside trapping and wrapping
And suddenly you’re a rap star
Driving an expensive car
And before your coffee is cold
You are draped with gold
Maximum bling
But it doesn’t mean a thing
Other than money because honey
If your ‘song’ lyrics are still known.
When ten years are blown by
And you are no longer a famous guy
Whose words are forgotten
It is because they are misbegotten
And liked by the current batch of airheads
Who think this is music when instead
It’s a beat they can feel in their feet
And if they don’t read the words
Printed in the album, what is heard
Is a lot of screaming and percussion
Not worth discussion in Billboard.
Someone could cut the microphone cord
And all anyone could hear would be drums
And the audience spilling their beer,
And nothing worth humming;
Lyrics for the dumbing down of the race,
A major entertainment disgrace
That destroys the ears and means nothing
That will ever be revered like Sinatra
Elvis or The Beatles have done.
It may be number one today
But when time passes away
It will be nothing but the shouts
Of a bunch of untalented louts
To an audience one has to fear
Was born with a tin ear.
Brent Kincaid
6/1/2015
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
I've had people say that I'm generally a good person
They tell me I'm sweet and thoughtful
And I know they mean it.
But I honestly don't see it.
Every time I look in the mirror
I just feel so utterly disgusted
I'm so cringeworthy
So awkward
So untalented
So average
So annoying
So.... Disappointing
I've never truly hated anyone
But **** I despise myself.
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 3:32 AM UTC
W~ORLD CUP is here again.
O~rnament of a golden cup that bring all people
'R~ound the world into one canopy.
L~et us stay in glee and watch those to
D~raw,lose or win their matches.
C~ompetition is a survivial of the fittest.
U~nprepared,untalented,unlucky and non-prayerful
P~roduces lose and religation.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
The curse of a great, well-known or (at least) culturally interesting family.
Heralded at birth to mimic similar (or even, surpassing) social feats of achievement/wealth/renown.
Instead manages to underpasses even mundane non-impressivenesses of second-generation parentals.
I
See them, smirk or folly with time, silently.
....which they seem to quite often.
Biding weekend with multitudes of varying categories of "friends"
and sweethearts who never seem to stick around too long
All aware, of course, of the famous family lineage
Themselves, instead
after lifetimes where first words, senior infants homework,
cheerful accusations of mischief and certificates of age-appropriate health
were lauded as signifiers of a future onslaught of fulfilled capabilities
emerge as providence's lackeys– and meekly, to be
Written out of History
One by One by One.
II
Talent is frequently a despairing life-cycle
for people who witness
and go without.
III
But what price success?
Is it to be counted in public
or left behind in wreaths?
Stern evidence
of favour, fought for and won
or shaky good fortune
One life's profitable fluke
IV
Does the cost of success itself
admit backstories of other kinds of loss
that children
without the chance of ever knowing
or changing their inheritances of fate
are powerless to cease the flow
of their own anonymity
all for the insistences of the unarguable
and for merely treading the average?
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
I've been hurt before, love's pain seems to be my chronic affliction,
I've never been shown this much affection.
Please excuse my apprehensive reactions, if my participation feels like I'm just going through the motions- I find it hard to portray my emotions.
I've had so many lust filled stints; That's why I don't know if I can accept this, your love that is.
You're out of my league I know that ; I'm, in the eyes of those I've loved, just : emotional,untalented, unathletic, poor and fat those things I just can't forget.
My insecurities
a guard,a shield, they limit me to what I think I deserve and I don't deserve to be happy and with you that's all I know I can be.
Forgive me,
if It takes me time to say those 3 words, even when my heart beats like the wings of a humming bird, it's just I can't imagine why you have these feeling for me,
my Baby TT
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
Tired of writing about sadness
Tired of writing about pain
I want to write about happiness
I want to write about gain
Tired of writing about boys
Tired of writing about girls
I want to write about unicorns
I want to write about pearls
Tired of writing about crying
Tired of writing about fears
I want to write about laughing
I want to write about cheer
Tired of writing about the future
Tired of writing about the past
I want to live in the present
I want to make it last
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 4:33 PM UTC
So this isn't the demon
you told me about
It's awfully common,
you say,
of a person my age
to feel hyper-reactive
once in a while
To walk a mile
in her own head,
painting it petty and sparkling
But maybe I should
at least know better
than to ride the flamboyant
hell
To make the day one
long yell
"Let's piece together
these undeserved rags,"
they make me think
as I glide from
one face to the next
I am not Cinderella
I am her
kin
If I were old enough
I would drink myself
down with a bottle of
gin
Of gin made from kin
and refused help
"Untalented", I claim
heresy to my personality
Thinking, "everyone looks better than me,
but no, I can be better than them"
And I hear you say,
"What a sin, tsk, tsk, tsk!"
And the other demons,
they say, "Let her
stay!
Let her
stay!"
The diva's not the demon
you speak of
Who is it really?
Introduce him or her
Has it ever occurred
to you that
we would make
a good pair
of masters, of narcissists,
of lovers
A team everywhere
in all the bad places
Performing an absurd show
Breaking hearts
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
THOUGHTS
Days consumed with images and memories of you...
hugs,smiles,
jokes,laughs,
stares, sweet kisses so thoughts continue.
Looking towards the constellations deep contemplations
of whether or not we are destined to be controls my entity.
Distracted by the funky melondies of untalented singers disrupt my yearning heartbeat.
At times the feeling of flight overpowers me
but there's something about you that leads to the constant cancellations of my many trips.
See shorty doo *** rolling oowops...
you intrigued my mind, captured my soul and now your so close to holding my heart that it seems unreal.
I don't fall easily!
You're piercing my heart without my consent.
You shot me in the back and I became limp to all my Desires
all the while I was looking at you,eye to eye,
Yes this was the entire time.
Confusing right,
frustratingly enough its pretty complex this surprise attack.
I have yet to start the healing process but what's even worse is Im not absolutely sure if I want to experience that,
Or if your even ready yet!
Guess Not...
You said you'll take a Raincheck
Just Speak
Ta'resa Pearson
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:18 PM UTC
Fear turning to sweat
As it drips down my face
Her eyes like daggers, clutching at my child
Upon her face is the rotten core
Of a cold hearted contempt
‘For what I have worked so hard to give birth to,
She scoffs at what is before her
Such a useless, untalented thing
She mutters
The criticism of my baby is almost more than I can bear
And yet as I hold back the tears,
Those threaten to drench my face
I look once more,
Into this demons eyes
Her vicious glamour has lifted
And there stands a woman who once gave birth to me
Holding the papers I have given birth to
Her devil hearted criticisms pierce my heart
But once I truly look at her,
And see what a pathetic
Old thing she has become
I take the papers back
And smile
For the demon in my path means nothing
My words mean more than hers
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
I wonder as you left the bar that was it a night of significance?
Has the booze made you blind to that which lurks in shadows ?
Have the lies led you to belive in something that is not real?
I wonder befor that pipe made contact what went through that untalented mind?
Such a silly fool the sound still plays in my ears like a beautiful
piece of music as you collapsed in the street.
The thud as I drove my boots deep into your ribs.
I wonder what thoughts escaped that now cracked skull.
Make me laugh now funny man!
The past has a funny way of creeping up on us.
No soil.
No grave.
I left you broken like a bottle to be
swept into the gutter wuth the rest of the
trash were were you belong.
RIP Gonzo
May 13, 2010
May 13, 2010 at 9:57 PM UTC
They call me disaster,
Stupid, dumb, basic, cry baby,
Lame, ugly, impossible, failure,
Bland, plain, trash, nerd,
Crazy, ****** fake, dork,
Mistake, accident, brat, loser,
Bad, untalented, useless, forgettable,
Worthless, hopeless, shameful, tone deaf,
Cow, fat, insane, dull,
Incompetent, idiot, sick, gone,
Terrible, unbearable, diseased, tired,
Special, gross, unwanted, desperate,
Try-hard, whale, pig, liar,
Never enough, child, insecure, sad,
Scared, cutter, suicidal, friendless,
Invisible, waste, self absorbed, unloved,
Torn, replaceable, copy, runaway,
Snake, snitch, sneak, lazy,
Alone, unneeded, loud, unforgivable,
Annoying, attention seeker, weak, paranoid,
Clueless, low life, dense, dark,
Freak, mess, lost, disturbing,
Last choice, lost cause, slacker, bag lady,
Chubby, poison, horrible, sleepless,
Cockroach, gullible, sloppy, short,
Joke, cope out, foolish, selfish.
All in one name.
"Emily"
-3nwlry
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 12:39 PM UTC
Today is a good day for creation. It is a mellow day.
The light filters through my window, soft and grey.
It is eleven thirty in the morning, not quite noon, but still hazy,
like it should be early.
Like nothing has happened yet, but something is coming.
Something good is going to happen.
I want to sit and sing and listen to music and create. Write. Paint.
Play music with my untalented hands.
I have the drive, that imagination, but i can't think of anything that fits in this time, so i am describing what i am feeling.
It is nothing special, but it is everything and anything special all at once.
A moment when i just want to lay down and look at the sky,
Lay on may back and stare at the clouds.
I get that feeling a lot. Mostly during spring.
But now it is autumn.
Perhaps it is a coping mechanism.
I want to be a great writer, but how can i be a great writer when nothing i write is great, or memorable, or organized?
I cant even produce decent prose when in a perfect environment.
And when i can't focus i just get caught up in my thoughts and i can't do anything about it and i am so...
I am so...
so nothing.
And nothing i ever write makes sense.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
I am what others perceive
Damaged
Broken
Unworthy
Forgotten
Ugly
Worthless
Untalented
Boring
Gross
So who cares
Let my soul fly through the air
So I may be judged by the truth
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
I've always been a no name, quiet and sitting in the back of the class.
I've always been a no name, just trying to go through the halls without getting knocked over.
I've always been a no name, with no one to help me carry my burdens.
I've always been a no name, an outcast, a 'weirdo'.
I've always been a no name, painfully average, painfully plain.
I've always been a no name, with even the the teachers forgetting my name.
I've always been a no name, barely any talent, barely anything special.
But I refuse to be a no name,
I refuse to sit quietly,
I run through the halls skipping,
if I have to I will carry my burdens myself,
I may be an outcast, but that's okay,
I refuse to be average,
I refuse to be plain,
I refuse to let people forget my name,
I refuse to tell myself I'm untalented, or special.
I refuse to be a no name.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
I want more, and I will lie no more.
Call me greedy; I don't care anymore.
I want more money. Who doesn't?
They are never enough. Never enough.
I am but a **** poor untalented peasant,
I just want to numb myself with more stuff.
With more money, I can buy more books.
The more pages I flipped, I lose myself more.
More money also means more toys that hooks
My inner child - he now knows freedom more.
I want more food. OM NOM NOM FOOD!
I hunger for simple gastronomical richness:
Multiple mint teabags to better calm my mood,
Serve with upsized servings of buttery tastiness.
Yet, even the simplest desires, Need. MONEY!
What's that you say? Learn to have less desires?
Let me write it down on my list; oh that's funny;
This long list, of desires, do you think it expires?
Nay, I say, for all my wants, shall grow evermore!
MORE! MORE! MORE!
May 14, 2021
May 14, 2021 at 10:41 AM UTC
I have decided
I am not naturally
anything good
I am ugly
and imperfect
and untalented
and unnecessary
but
I am not
disheartened
I am the black coal
waiting for the earth
to create a diamond
I am the dinner
not yet fully cooked
or ready to serve
I am the boy
waiting on time
to let me be a
man
Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 6:53 AM UTC
Either be it beauty, fame, wealth, or greed
or such as destiny or luck , to wit,
what muse crawled into my brain
causes me to moan as such.
All is craftily insanity,
lame dreams, untalented
weaves my brain into this nest.
The best I have at present sent I send
unchaste, un pretend,
my poetry.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
Unlike Faust, where he gained by wagering his soul for unlimited knowledge,
or Robert Johnson, meeting at midnight, tuning his guitar, becoming the father of blues,
I gave today for tomorrow. Agreed to live in this world
unseen, densely untalented,
in perpetual poverty,
for the sake of a clear conscience.
my conspirator, the Devil, I confused, signed the papers,
consigning me to happiness after I leave this Hell.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 5:54 PM UTC
I draw your name with a thin twig in a sand,
Like touching the surface of meanings by breath.
Sand grains flows together like dots on a chequered sheet
And lay down one-line in letters as shibboleth.
In every sand letter of your name there’s me,
Untalented, hopeless, irrelevant, but so tender.
The stray wind will blow away your name from me
And I will stay alone on a sand, unshod and in surrender.
Feb 11, 2025
Feb 11, 2025 at 4:07 PM UTC
I'm not good enough
I'm not small enough
I'm ugly
I'm untalented
I’m not smart enough
Not happy enough
I’m not enough.
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
I grow tired
But growth is being done
I stand, weary eyed
Still standing though, aren't I
My mind it tries to fool me
Play off my fragility
What she doesn't know
My hearts become full of hope
It's beating quiet
And sometimes slow
But it's there, that I know
That's all I need to grow
I fidget with anxious thoughts
A troubled mind
She'll tell me awful things
And she'll whisper little lies
"You are not good enough
You will not win
You'll never find your joy
Or Passion
Not beautiful
Untalented, unbright
Crooked girl with crooked mind
A silly child
On a dead end road
Full of fool's gold
Lackluster,
Growth only leads
To withering
Forget this slippery slope
Drop your empty hope,
You are not good enough!"
But I know
These thoughts are merely
Here to protect me
To convince me not to grow
Because growing means
Hurting
And change
Growing means everything
Must be rearranged
And that's scary, I know
But it's something we must do to cope
So quiet down, my mind
I know you think you're being kind
But heart and mind together
We could be so much greater
And I know no matter what
We'll grow through the rough
So lean on me a little
Let this heart beat
For both of us
Oct 14, 2022
Oct 14, 2022 at 12:17 PM UTC
Andulan was perplexed,
She was trying but they weren't dying,
I've never encountered song like this,
You seven are the real deal, not copies,
Like Toblin's, or should I say Prienne's,
Untalented singers, musicians and sycophants,
Stooges all, fit only to sate my unfortunate, burdensome thirst,
When I find it appropriate to become a monster, that is.
After much exercise, Andulan retracted her vines,
Those fields of green vanished into the dirt like frightened voles,
Fearing the sight of hawks above,
Next she turned her gaze towards the three musicians huddled together.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC