"wittle" poems
Who here loves *******
I mean, dogs
Obviously…
Immature people.
I love ***** shows.
Seeing them all groomed to perfection, not a hair out off place
A shame some cute faces will just go to waste.
While some may whine and some may resist,
If it’s not monetised, well… does it exist?
Lined up in a row
Look at them go
Praying and hoping to win best in show, just for a itty bitty wittle headpat, while the owner gets useful things like money.
Cause a dog can’t use money, that’s just silly
Nails perfectly trimmed
Intelligence dimmed
Watch how they walk with a little trot, so proud of themselves,
its like they forgot they only have the same rights as their owners in 6 countries.
But dogs don’t need equal working rights, that’s just silly
Look its absurd
When they whine all their words
Clogging up space with their frilly likes and their silly ums that totally like inconveniences like everyone because they have to um like listen to a ***** talk for um longer than they like totally like um have to like ***
But they aren’t so bad, especially when you’ve had
A ***** that wont behave, a ***** that’s gone mad
Howling at the moon with their wandering wombs
It’s like there’s no party, only balloons.
If a ***** wears pants, do they go on all fours
Or do they get sent home for showing more than their paws.
Gasp at how they growl, protecting their hairy bodies, which, silly them, they don’t own.
They must be culled
Anger dulled
Knock in their thick skulls they are nothing but a *****
We all love ***** shows, we love the ******* even more.
So come on ladies, get down on all fours.
Feb 23, 2022
Feb 23, 2022 at 4:37 PM UTC
All my pwoblems,
who knows, maybe evwybody’s pwoblems
is due to da fact, due to da awful twuth
dat I am SPIDERMAN.
I know, I know. All da dumb jokes:
No flies on you, ha ha,
and da ones about what do I do wit all
doze extwa legs in bed. Well, dat’s funny yeah.
But you twy being
SPIDERMAN for a month or two. Go ahead.
You get doze cwazy calls fwom da
Gubbener askin you to twap some booglar who’s
only twying to wip off color T.V. sets.
Now, what do I cawre about T.V. sets?
But I pull on da suit, da stinkin suit,
wit da sucker cups on da fingers,
and get my wopes and wittle bundle of
equipment and den I go flying like cwazy
acwoss da town fwom woof top to woof top.
Till der he is. Some poor dumb color T.V. slob
and I fall on him and we westle a widdle
until I get him all woped. So big deal.
You tink when you SPIDERMAN
der’s sometin big going to happen to you.
Well, I tell you what. It don’t happen dat way.
Nuttin happens. Gubbener calls, I go.
Bwing him to powice, Gubbener calls again,
like dat over and over.
I tink I twy sometin diffunt. I tink I twy
sometin excitin like wacing cawrs. Sometin to make
my heart beat at a difwent wate.
But den you just can’t quit being sometin like
SPIDERMAN.
You SPIDERMAN for life. Fowever. I can’t even
buin my suit. It won’t buin. It’s fwame wesistent.
So maybe dat’s youwr pwoblem too, who knows.
Maybe dat’s da whole pwoblem wif evwytin.
Nobody can buin der suits, dey all fwame wesistent.
Who knows?
--JIM HALL
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC
Heart beats and paper wings,
Tattered clothes and souls that sing.
Beauty that relies on grace,
Salty tears that run down the face.
Hopes that give a crown and throne,
Fears that wittle down to the bone.
Angels protecting with all their might,
Demons killing out of spite.
Making sure another dies,
She won't live to be a butterfly.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 9:00 AM UTC
Sitting in solemn silence
all around me the deafening roar
of thoughts flooding through
my mind
Heads bent over their work
as they contemplate the
significance that this will even have
ten, twenty, thirty years from now
Looking around and seeing
stress on people's faces
as they sit and wittle away
the fifty minutes of
fluid time
Twiddling their thumbs
the equivalent of me
here
writing this poem
Bland revising conversation
with an overtone of educational
******** wrapped in a blanket
of disconcerting melodrama
Whispers of unfocused chatter
and my mind wanders lazily
from one thought to the next
Conflicted as I should be writing for
another purpose
to complete an assignment
that I couldn't possibly
care less about
Oh the joys of institutionalized
education
and yet
the irony:
I want to become
a part of it
in order to remedy
its imperfections
from the inside out
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 12:15 PM UTC
I am not going to fall even if things crumble
I'll make my way up and tower them all
I will not stumble, crawl or roll
I'm gonna show you, I'm the queen of this hall
I know you like the back of my hand
And I'll track you until you're out of my mind
I'll show you I can handle and drive my life
Without you squeezing my neck with a knife
I'll give you a big and loud slow clap
For trying to ruin me with your crap
But no, no, no you little wittle, you fell on my trap
And right now it's not me but you on my grasp
How does it feel?
To question yourself when would you heal?
To feel like you're forever living in fear
To think that you're better off in a coffin
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 10:17 PM UTC
I don't want a job.
NO.
Like money can stop interfering with me.
I rather would not work for a living,
But I wanna draw and color the world in pictures of it's own discourse and make my world a piece of mastery one can admire,
But I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place to make the payments on apartments and college tuition that keeps rising,
And my knee hurts and I don't wanna deal with customers,
There made of fire and ice, willing to burn me or quick to give a cold and uneasy shoulder,
It's not at all fun,
I just wanna swim all day and think of life,
My mind is full of mystical mysteries to which I have yet to discover,
People to meet and pictures to create,
Something I haven't had any time to do, And I feel like a stump,
Broken and cut down in it's good prime of life,
I'm weaken by the roots,
Discolored and suffering with grief,
Who am I? What is my job and who am I to be,
should I live in BG, or should I make my own path without professors and lessons and a degree that will make me so indented and wittle my brain to complete nothing,
with all that coffee,
I'm so stressed with the complexities and anxieties that life seems to throw at me, envying my sister for her talents in photography,
And what do i have?
nothing but a smile to give guys who treat me nice for awhile then leave,
i guess I am a nothing but a face,
I can draw,
Sometimes, lately it's been in vain and I feel nothing,
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
once a day I spend ten seconds sorry for me
then ten hours on those worse off
I think about my problems too long
and not enough on what I can do to help others
after all what good is pity for me I don't like it
nor do I pity others I empathize
try to put my foot in their shoe
and it makes my problems dematerialize
and one day I will wittle it down to ten seconds a year
and hope I made a difference
before I go
on to whereever
it is old hippies go to
then
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 9:23 PM UTC
I Wuv U
I wuv u to the moon and back and then forwards again
I wuv u more than any chick could love it's mother hen
I wuv u more than rainbows and big blue butterflies
I'll always wuv u most of all no matter how time flies
I wuv u now, I wuv u tomorrow, and twenty years from now
I wuv u bunches, bunches, bunches more than you could ever know how
I wuv u as a wittle kid and as a big girl too
Through all the world, you can know this, I wuv u
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC
when your fantasy fails, and your dreams scatter into the black
foreboding emptiness
come to me
when your hopes are ripped form your ******* weak hands
and all you do is sit there wishing for some apathy that you will
never receive
when your mind is ***** repeatedly and ****** over one to many times
come to me
when she pulls your tongue out of your putrid mouth and slaps your wittle **** with it
come to me
when your on your knees begging, let them laugh in your face, let them spit upon you
for you are ******* nothing
your god has left you
nowhere to be found?
your mind it's being ****** again, sanity where'd you go? stop slutting around
HAHA!
oh the irony, my little ******* piggy
when you are nothing, when you sincerely cannot give two ***** anymore,
when you stop silently screaming for help, when you have given up on any kind of release,
come to me
when you have found pleasure in this game you play all by yourself in that endlessly open mind of yours
see me
when you are here but nowhere to be found
seek for me
when you still don't give two *****
love me
when your dead,
fear me
when your gone, but immortally in ecstasy
hide from me
when your reality is all but "everything"
listen to me
like you always have
let me **** you one more time
sweetie
dearest
******* innocent pie
come to me
feed me
live with me
don't let go
you are here
forever in fantasy
ecstasy
your sanity, the games honey,
oh how we love them
fear me
speak to me
come to me
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC