"whimp" poems
To come in like a champ
means to come out like a champ
To come in like a whimp
means to come out like a champ
No matter what
come out looking like a champ
and no one will know the difference
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
He gone
..
Stupid song
...
You you you!
Whimp
----
Carries his bible like a bully in jail
Stumbles along like he just out a hell
---
He saw mr bojangles dancin
An he shot him in the head
--
What's it to ya
Whimp?
--
If ya ain't ashamed of America
You dead
---
Come on!
Try!
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
Once upon a time
a father with his belt –
(with black shiny paint
and a steel which is melt)
And a son, a pen in his hand
A book by his side
A lamp blowing light
Tears in his eyes
The fear in his veins
With his wimped tiny mole
(A cry in his neck and
a gulp in his bones)
Whimp whimp strikes the ground
Wipes the tears,picks up his pen
Shakes up his head,
Gives him a cloth,
to blow up his nose
(A smile on the boy's face
The fallen tear on the page's lace
It dried his shake on hand and
moved him a pace)
Whimp, whimp, whimp – strikes again
(A posed fear on son's face)
Whimp, and he strikes again
(The clueless child, shakes with his pain )
The blats on the floor
and its black remains
The years of slaps
which slashed up cement
(He comes back..
drops his belt )
A relief in boy's breath
The steel fallen,
relief is felt
The father with his red hands
(Blood flows out at a spot's end )
Smiles at the son
Dark is his eyes like year's repent
(A strung in his mind
He shakes only once,
As he picks up his belt)
He sits on his couch and
acts as he had a father –
with a belt-
(with its black shiny paint and
a steel which is melt.)
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025 at 2:19 PM UTC
Hi this is hurt
From the province of brokenness
In the city of tears
At the street of unfulfilled promises.
I just woke up from the funeral
Of an abused hollow muscular
Pain that even callous can't clad
Wrecked emotionally and mentally of a lad
This will be my home
I would like to be here
Since no one can hear
The whimp that can tear
I feel loved and cared
All day is being shared
I'll be here for a long time
I'll be here for a long time.
Where someone cared for me
Where someone loves to feel me
Where I am being remembered
Where I can be me. -J.R.G.F
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
well, **** me, it's like being awake
for about a week... minding a *******
ONION!
dos' doss
a'tt even qualify?!
the fuck's the rest?
a **** all peel?
come 'oney, 'ome sanctimony?
your crew?!
'ucking scouse: your m'ah-f'ah
a bitch-schoot...
your mam'aha complete ****
so y'eer mam'ah a ****
good to
know...
no i know what
to **** in public!
fucking wanker industry 'abric!
you don't get
away with slav
playing
out the **** blondine boy!
yo, *******
rat racing ********
riddle a ********
attempt at a 'ackney pristine!
piece of doit!
ever e'ten
raw onions in liver'poi
and not at eton *******
whimp-e-mister?!
m'ah
nye-i-ever...
maroccon delight!
god to love the arab incubators!
little people do
such marvels!
clean windows...
take out of garbage... talk ****
a society like
a ******* mirage!
and am i the one to fear death?
can't see it coming,
meaning:
can it come much sooner?!
white boy a shrimp feeding
factory...
sometimes the odd
toiling shed, and tool...
you ever manage to see
a cow being towed into
A SLAUGHTERHOUSE?!
no?
you haven't exactly been
born... have you?
you know what's funny...
gypsy prostitutes...
they're not sure whether to
associate with romanians
or bulgarians...
can't tell the difference...
but i have one clue
incission: blyat' suka!
pizdetz!
these women are certainly not
either romanian, nor bulgarian...
but they know
one word equivalent of using
bulgar...
jebać pizde!
in cyrillic...
becauase arabic tongue
translates back into an orthodox of
the fathom of body?
nice to know...
that a bowtie isn't tied
according to such grimace of:
expectancy...
or anticipating
a welcome drought...
to later attire donning a tuxedo...
but that is but a half,
and hardly a future...
and what truth is,
history regurgitates as
nought... with the nought
being a tomorrow...
and the subsequence
of history,
being a far removed yesterday...
and yesterday,
being a history,
with a tomorrow
that simply can't exist!
as neither did dinosaurs...
with crocodiles...
but then:
again...
who among arab minds this
to be more concerning,
than the perfect eyebrows of
an arab woman driving
a car....
and whatever buzzfeed
ushers out from its *******
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 10:43 PM UTC
It's hard to believe I will ever feel happy
Like I was when I was a young boy
Playing tag with my next door neighbor
Or feeling the excitement on Christmas day
It's hard to believe I will ever feel content
Like listening to old records on my stereo
Or writing poetry at the age of nine
Everything back then seemed so innocent
Everything back then seemed so fine
But it wasn't...
It was just trying to hold on to life
And make the best out of it without going crazy
So much dysfuncftionality ( even if that is a word )
Dad going insane
Older brother malesting me
Younger brother a whimp
So much chaos
We all just wanted to quit
Nothing going right
Mom getting hit
We all pretended everything was okay
Come Christmas time when presents were being open
Then you had Easter, waking up to go to church
Sitting at the pew and praising a God we hardly knew
I thought many times to run away
Forget everyone and try something different
It would be better than all of this
I even tried it once but got scared and ran back home
How the hell did we all survive?
I wish there was a manual to do life
I would of done things differently
Said things differently
It wasn't at all fine
Now we all have scars
And have turned out different this time
Mom is dead
Dad is dead
Older brother a minister
Which I think is ironic
Younger brother a talker
And me trying to find my own way
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 8:38 AM UTC
Hush and listen closely for my eyes may just decieve. I devour every movement, and then my mind play a fool out of me. My nightmare fuel supplying my thoughts, well who thought up that one, because it can't be my fault. I tell myself a lie, but I know it's a lie, so I can only try. And try I fail, because I'm but a thought spark, climbing into a storm, drained away with other thoughts to a colorful farm. But the colors clash hard as lightning to skin. And who knew thoughts could feel fear. But I feel it from deep within. If I slip away I see darkness, if I stay in the light I feel wrong. Like is this true, or lies I hear, somehow it seems darkness is where I belong. And it hurts those dang thoughts, when they run about. One tries to get away and spills right out, so I get belt, but my father don't know. I can't help it, they don't listen, just flow. I recollect myself with water, down beneath I feel it strong. They do not believe in anger, somehow human responses are wrong. If someone did something that hurt you bad, you'd be a whimp if you sat all sad, that's not me, I didn't do that, I punched her guts up when she called me rat. I could quite hear the ding, her guts or mine. And my confidence flew, but crashed in an ocean. Because anger is wrong, my eyes do deceive, you say I say to stop rolling them, but it can't possibly be me. I'm just doing what I can, to make it through the day. And my thoughts may be but sparks, of tied down energy.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
I miss you
All I could do was dream about you
A manifestation of your existence in my subconscious
Makes my heart whimp so glorious
It's like you are here with me
It feels like you are always so close to me
And even when in reality you are so faraway,
You always linger in my mind all day
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC