Wouldn't you rather~
Wouldn't you rather~ be dead?
Maybe shoot yourself in the head?
Over my dead body, I would never want to be a zombie like you.
The sight of your limbs are rotten all the time.
Sorry that the sight of you looks like a 3 legged swine.
So go ahead and do us a all favor,
hide and stash yourself away from all your neighbor.
I think i'd rather have my eyes stuck with glue
So I won't have to look at you
When it comes to family friends, you ain't got none.
Your always gonna be called the lonely retarded one.
Who could ever love a face like yours.
not even your mother can see pass your gore's
No need for privacy when you pee
Go ahead and take a leak and drown yourself in the sea.
Don't think for one second you are irresistible
Love making with a zombie is impossible.
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head
The time to kill yourself is at hand.
Slicing your wrist is what we recommend.
Cut off your tongue, don't want to hear you squeal.
Blood all over, your face is no big deal
A sword or machete will only pick up the pace
I wanna see your guts pop out your mid-waist
Contaminated objects is a must
Anything to remove your face of disgust.
The easy part is the best
Once you are gone we will all feel blessed,
The flaw of your existence
Is what keeps us all in distance
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head
Close your eyes and die
No one wants to hear you cry
You said you wanted to be loved
believe me~ your better off unloved
I say go do yourself off
Anyways you've always had it rough...
Go ahead and scream
This is not a dream
Now see how you make me feel
All I want is for you to end your ugly ordeal.
I will praise this day of course
Knowing soon you'll be a rotting corpse.
happy valentine ~ TO: All My DEADBEAT X-es from Texas..
One look at you – that’s all it took
Those long long legs that seem to go on forever
Those eyes staring at me
All I feel for you is revulsion
Hate – it’s a horrible word but I simply detest you
There is no place for you in my life
So I flushed the spider down the plughole
26th March 2015
Bah Bah Black Sheep I Am Slamming You Nathan D
I know you think you’re so tough with your words in the rough
You keep your poems tucked in underwear and you won’t share
Let me tell you Lil Bub my attitude is BIG, so here’s de rub,
I’m going to scratch you like a cat
When you come close for de pat;
And Yo! God got no ears,
For your small condensed tears;
Next time you lash your tongue and whip, you cum on wit no hip
Bah bah black sheep, you ain’t gonna pull de wool off me pip
I like to mentally infuriate you
And yes I like my milk fat free
Yeh I got you’re number you
And no I ain’t sniffin no glue
It is called “SLAM POETRY”
And as for keeping your poetry all to yourself, well go to hell
Where the devil will give you a pitchfork, dig what you can’t sell!
Cause I ain’t digging me no hole for empty air
So fork it out Nathan D, lay out bare,
Cuz I’m not muckin with you just for fun, I think you Rock
Like third rock from the sun
I like you’re quip, you son of a gun!
Early in the mourning she rose
She wood fined her boat
Wear she rose across the see two the sure
Their she mustard all her mite
And toad the boat on the beech
Butt if the thyme was write she tide it two a boy
She could hardly weight
Four she nose she will sea her suite sun
They wood sit on a bolder, brake sum bred
Then they eight a hole pair
Her sun called her a deer
He tolled her when he urns enough doe
Ore got sum tacks witch was dew
He wood by her a flour at the bizarre
Witch could be tide in her hare
The cent of the rows wood bee sew sheikh
One knight he said she wood prophet
If she past buy a different root
He new the currant could get ruff
The whether was no longer fare and getting two chilli
She road away into the missed
Aisle meat ewe next weak he balled until he was horse
He trussed he wood see her next weak
Only Homo’s ‘Aloud’ – Jerry T Curtis
23rd March 2015
~awarded 1st place
Turkey so dry that I can’t speak
Brussel sprouts boiled for a week
Roast potatoes burnt to a crisp
Inspired by Andrea’s contest but not written for it!
Just one look at you
Tempting me, teasing me, tormenting me
I hate the feelings you evoke
Just want to hold you, devour you
I don’t want to see you go
But I can never resist the last chocolate in the box!
9th March 2015
Contest – Love or Hate – Pick a subject - Shadow Hamilton
I chose Love as my theme
~awarded 1st place~
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I’m up for a quickie
Do you fancy one too?
13th February 2015
There you go again little Sly fox P.D.
Another game of tag and jeopardy.
Clever, clever, little fox so bloodthirsty.
Chaos roams through your veins of liberty.
You walk the ground, prancing around your hostility.
Marching down with the dignity of mis-guided anarchy.
I'm gonna hunt you smell end it well.
Hang you up from your trophy tail.
Kiss your night one last farewell.
By morning dawn your foxy tail,
Won't live another tale to tell.
I'm gonna find ya' ~ pull your hideout from where you hide.
Smack you around in your everyday rebellious ways.
Thinking you can defeat my crowd with your lawlessness..
I don't need no hounds to track your unlivable Holy-mess.
You created a selfish character of kindness for the blindness.
You prey on the sheep's and linger on their wall of hopelessness.
Your sinfulness grew from the boldness, and bitterness,
Of growing up parent-less.
My dear Sly Fox are you on alert with your ears of nobleness.
Did you not hear me creeping while you were sleeping.
Sly fox the destroyer!
You are right, you are a mischievous game of hunt!
My trap is set and waiting for you by the river front.
Go ahead, take a drink, pull one last obnoxious stunt.
Run and run, as fast as you can!
You can't out run this one game of Skitty Skat fox hunt.....
Good morning World.
and your warm
prying open my eyes.
Robbing me of my
my semiconscious bliss.
Leaving the remnants
of my peace
laying scattered across
my face and through
Your rising light
shrinking the shadows
of my freedom.
I will not be seduced
by your clear blue promises.
For your pressing realities
already taste foul
in my mouth.
Leave me Morning
to my diminishing serenity.
I have performed this piece and it shows on you tube (I hope this works, if not try copying to your address bar):
Some folks call me a sausage dog
I think they couldn’t be meaner
It’s not my fault I’m long and short
And look like a misshapen wiener
I’ve got four stumpy little legs
So my tummy is near to the ground
My owner’s take me for a drag not a walk
Guess that's why they named me Cigarette!
Contest: Dachshunds – Rob Carmack
~awarded 9th place~
The fire brigade are on standby
With their hoses in their hand
For today it is my birthday
My birthday cake is on a stand
There are so many candles
It is a health and safety risk
So be ready with the hoses guys
And make sure you get here quick!
25th January 2015
Anytime I feel hungry instead of eating a full meal I eat Honey.
The best part is that Honey doesn't mind, she's a sweetheart.
I bought a box of Animal Crackers.
On the box it said
"Do not eat if seal is broken"
So I opened the box.
I looked inside and sure enough...
If a parsley farmer doesn't pay his bills
can they garnish his wages?
There is a new virus. It has no symptoms and no consequences.
I am terrified. It turns out I have been diagnosed with it.
I am not a hypochondriac. I really do have it. If you
don't believe me ask my Gynecologist!
"Baby, this view is fantastic,
Who knew what you could buy with plastic!
With these credit cards, unlimited funds,
Any regrets, heck no, baby I got none.
Riding on an interest rate of twenty percent,
Who cares, this is money well spent!"
Says the thief who stole my purse from the rest stop location,
One of the many tales of my no good, horrible road trip vacation.
Riding down I-seventy five, heading to Mackinaw Island for a getaway,
Me and my best boy beside me, taking an adventure, oh what a day.
Construction just north of Detroit, that scary van is stopped to our right.
Keeping my legs crossed, I might wet myself, will that be alright.
He gives me a smile with a crooked left tooth and a wave with two fingers
Push the gas pedal quick, the filthy dirty looks he is giving on me lingers.
Put the pedal to the metal and off we go, not slowing down for no one
Riding high in my seventy-three coupe de vile, the fun has just begun
Didn't see that State Trooper hiding behind that sign, just past Auburn Hills
Tried to out gun him with my 405, but he caught us just past the old mills
"Son you are in a heap of a mess, speeding like Ricky Bobby in Talladega
Two choices, let me have a spin with your gal or I'll haveta read you your
After twenty minutes, we sped off not even looking in the rear view mirror
Our vacation destination of Mackinaw Island was getting closer and clearer.
It was smooth sailing, so we thought, as the night was getting dark.
Find a hotel bed soon baby, we all are angst we missed our mark.
The sign said two miles to Holiday Inn, But it’s already been nine.
Comin’ up on us now is a big yellow Dead End road sign.
Down this dirt road we skimming across freshly grated dirt.
Could stop fast enough, deer crossing, don’t worry none got hurt.
Baby this ride is exciting
That’s what I’m supposed to be sayin’
But with my crosses on my neck,
All these issues, dang I’m just prayin’
Ridin’ seventy five, with the wind in our hair.
I don’t care how we do it, baby just get us there.
Finally arrived in Mackinaw City, getting ready to board Shepler's Ferry
The line was long, the lake waves were high, we were saying Hail Mary's
The winds picked up, the skies drew dark. a storm had come without warning
The ferry turned around, couldn't go there now, not until the next morning.
We stayed in a run down, worn out cabin on the edge of the great lakes
Wondering why these vacations always turn out to bring mistakes.
But then I look in your eyes and you look deeply into my mine.
And i know no matter where we go or what we do, everything turns out just
Vacation Humor Contest
Oh why oh why don't you clean your room
I wish I had heeded my mother’s words
For I’m sure many a mother has said this to their child
But fate intervened and the dust still hasn’t settled -
In fact I’ve not spoken to my mother for over a week
Last weekend I met the man of my dreams – James
Tall, dark and oh so handsome, like a young George Clooney
His number was etched in the thick layer of dust on the dresser
My mother took matters into her own hands
She decided to dust and tidy my room
HOW COULD SHE DO THIS TO ME!
His number is erased forever -
I have no way of contacting him
Guess I have learned a VERY valuable lesson
NEXT time I meet someone …
I will write his number in my diary!
25th February 2015
Fictional write for the Gathering Dust’ Contest - John Lawless
A POOR ME FOR THE AGES
I was older she was so young I was stupid
But I was helpless she flirted threw me a smile
Oh, poor me I melted that look
That long, black hair that perfume
Those eyes that perfect bod I was so lonely
No one understood me oh, poor me
Didn’t like my job job paid so well though
Wife left me I started drinking
Smoked like a chimney watched porn
Had such fantasies why did she say yes?
Expensive dinner wasn’t that good
And that necklace money getting short
She called me sugar daddy oh, poor me
She was such a flirt she loved all men
Age didn’t matter she has a new car
I paid for it then I really was broke
Had to move sold everything she said, get lost
Lost my job flop house was bad
Cardboard box is worse oh, poor, poor me
Old women shun me dogs and cats shun me
Do I deserve this? Oh well
That roach wasn’t bad no bones
Call me cynical
Has anyone else noticed …….
All of a sudden
The price of flowers and chocolates
Rockets skywards high towards heaven
Oh silly me its nearly Valentines Day!
12th February 2015
I stare at all the stars in the sky
Like everlasting snowflakes
No two are alike
I wonder what god was thinking
Maybe they are just his
Guidance and comfort
I look all the trees
Wonder how many can there be
Think about insects
Their number and variety is bigger
Then my ability to pronounce
This must be gods
I watch my fellow humans
And all they are capable of
Masters of both hate and love
The material and physical
And how they love to create
I have come to the conclusion
That this is all an allusion
To god having O.C.D.
Probably has multiple personalities
And the devil
Is just his paranoid schizophrenia
I hear the doorbell ring and I rush to answer it
The heavy wooden door creaks and squeaks and groans
My face is a ghostly white, you can only just see my eyes and mouth
The children scream loudly and drop their bags of sweets in fright
Terrified they flee down the path not pausing to look back
I grab their sweets and quickly slam the door
I dash to the bathroom
Twenty minutes is up and its time to wash off my face pack
Hee hee hee it works every year
5th October 2014
He was lying there naked
Tempting me –
I wanted him oh so much
Finally I could take no more
I grabbed him mercilessly
Popped him in my mouth
I’ve never been able to resist eating Jelly Babies!
16th March 2015
This little old lady goes to the doctor and says...
"Doctor, I have this problem with passing gas, but it really doesn't bother me too much. It never smells and it's silent. As a matter of fact I've passed gas at least 20 times since I've been in your office.
You didn't know I was passing gas because it's silent and it doesn't smell.
The Doctor said, "I see. Take these pills and come back and see me in a week."
The next week the old lady comes back and says, "Doctor, I don't know what you gave me but now my passing gas....although it's still silent, stinks terribly."
"Good" the Doctor said. "Now that we've cleared up your sinuses, we'll start working on you hearing."
Just a little funny joke to start your day,
Now go out and enjoy it, seize the day xxx
He’s always waiting for me – he’s as impatient as can be
The car engine is running - I shout ‘Darling I’m coming’
But we don’t need to be with mum until three!
30th March 2015
this noisy head i live in
it just never quiets down
theres some motherf#@ker screaming at two am
about some unpaid bills or parking tickets
and some other idiot going on and on about some girl that left
somebody is allways throwing trash out in the common area
little bits of some ancient relationship
small parts of some old mystery
just want to tell em all ''will you all please shut up"
stop that godawful freakin racket
some fool on the roof shouting poetry just when your drifting off to sleep
another idiot in the basement throwing monkey wrenches in the works
always somebody causing some kind of ruckus
just want to scream
"can we PLEASE get some peace and quiet for five minuets"
this crazy head i live in
i want to move
to some nice quiet country house
where you never hear a sound
peaceful with birds chirping
where i can get some rest
not this confounded noisy head i live in
not this apartment building of lunatics i call a mind
3 polished oak fans,
Swirling in robotic unison
High maintenance socialites,
Sipping on Merlot fallacies
Lemon yellow coated walls,
Like their smiles
Comparisons of dangling Porsche & Bentley keys
A glorified day care center,
The muted virtuosos speak softly in hymn dialects.
Courtesy laughter in snob’s octave
Their heads twitching side to side,
Left to right to left
An equilibrium facing assault charges against self
They slow dance to cello dreams
And E minor dividends
Two-step monotone, sway
Against platinum lacquer foundations
But, it was then.
These same socialites,
Made of recycled candle wax
And rubberized, hedge-fund confidence,
Began to stare longingly at the party host’s 70 inch plasma TV
Proudly imported from China
“Attention uptight snobs of Mecca!
The city zoo has imploded!
The monkeys revolted!
The zebras were tired of being racially profiled!
Run for your LIV…!”
And before the reporter’s frightened inner child could finish’s his clause,
An elephant crashes into the decadent room
Filled with Crisp linen scents of Febreze & judgmental fear
It stares at the socialites,
Laughing heartedly as it playfully stomps away into constellation’s onyx night
As tears waterfall from the snobs’ sobbing eye sockets
As if they just listened to another Celine Dion song
The real newsflash
Metaphors played hooky today
©Drake J. Eszes
They call her big Gina
You'd know if you seen her
She is a toilet cleaner
She wears a white smock
Armed with bucket and a mop
She likes to keep things clean
And is a real scrubber
If you know what I mean
She whistles as she goes
With disinfectant wafting under her nose
She replaces toilet rolls
And cleans the toilet bowls
She really loves her job
She has a cat called Doris
And a husband called Bob
Her job is dirty and often smelly
She has a tattoo of a toilet on her belly
At the end of the day
She puts her mop and bucket away
Goes home and has a shower
Then cleans the house within half an hour
Her husband makes her mad
Leaving the toilet seat up
She puts toilet water in his cup
Of tea to sup
She has a daughter called Pru
She dreams of being a toilet cleaner too
She doesn't care about the smell of poo
Just her dream comes true
We should all appreciate toilet cleaners
Just like big Gina.
''Warning! Toilet water in tea. please do not try at home.
could be dangerous and doesn't taste nice''.
Peter Dome.copyright.2014. Aug.
when you're in love
you write really bad love poetry
when you love a woman
you want to relive with her
every great moment you ever had
both of them.
clouds look like hearts, and a few look like ducks
you know, quack, quack ducks.
if you love someone,
you walk into the wrong house
you stain your tie during lunch
you walk into people
(a big guy peoples, he's not happy
you run...really fast)
to a man in love
roses look perfect
even if they're tulips
you build a white picket fence
with the pickets wrong side up
when you love someone
you take out the trash
from someone else's house
when you love someone
you quit your job as a superhero
you get rid of your trusty sidekick
you give away your bat mobile
you give your arch nemesis the bad news.
you write goofy stuff,
and mickey stuff too.
i'm in love
so i write really bad love poetry
i'm in love,
so sue me!
Here’s a short story of a cowboy I knew
Whose name was Beg Your Pardon.
He wasn’t a gun slinger in the usual way,
Though his hands were fast
And his foots were faster.
But when Beg started shootin’
There was nuthin’ but disaster.
No worries for Beg, he had none you see,
Since he wasn’t a slinger in the usual way.
But his pappy got ugly
And yelled in his son’s face,
“Until you can shoot
As the son of mine should,
I want you the h*** out of my place.”
Beg had some tricks up his very long sleeves,
Coz he wasn’t a slinger in the usual way.
He’d show his pappy his skill
There’s no doubt about that.
Yet time was a-wasten
So Beg he did hasten,
But first he took off his hat.
He then wound up his body like a Kansas twister
And slung a cow pie in his usual way.
And broke every record
Did our cow pie ringer.
Since there was no one better,
Pappy exclaimed to his son,
“Beg Your Pardon, I beg your pardon
Heck, you’re some kinda’ slinger!”
For Wild Wild West Contest
A true story....
Well I lived in Sioux City for a little while
Another job site, hubby and I have covered some miles
While there, my mother in law came to visit
She drove Elvira, the biggest Buick ever made
No doubt about it!
I drove mom around to see the highlights
If you've been there, you know there's nothing but corn in sight
Suddenly the cars in front of us started to slow
Wondering which way around this pillow they needed to go
Well some went left and some went right
Some straddled over it and seemed alright
Mom said baby, it will be OK
Just drive right over it
Elvira won't notice anything in her way
I lined up perfectly and over we went
Thought I'd made it until visions were sent
Into the rear view mirror of down floating everywhere
And it wasn't pleasant!
I could see people on the sidewalks laughing, I pretended not to care
As millions of feathers floated through the air
Really embarrassed I drove on about one hundred feet
Then Elvira stopped dead right there in the street
Somehow the drive train had caught the cotton cover
Ripping it to shreds, wrapping it round and round so tight
Until it killed the engine dead
Now I know God works in mysterious ways
But He proved it for sure this very day
In a parking lot next to where Elvira had died
Was a complete race car driver's pit crew - no lie!
An 18 wheeler with trailer in tow
Guys dressed in uniforms, patches aglow
With traffic backing up behind us
They came over to see what was all the fuss
I said spitting feathers out of my mouth
I really don't know, I'm from down south
They opened their trailer and out came the jacks
Air hoses and tools, they got down on their backs
From under the car I heard laughter and jokes
They'd seen cars stopped by everything but a pillow!
Well I thanked them and shook each and every hand
They wouldn't accept money, said the entertainment was grand
I often wonder who they were and if they remember Elvira and the pillow in Iowa land....
TALKING TO ME
Do you ever get the feeling that inanimate objects are talking to you?
Sometimes I do, not often, but sometimes.
Like trees that seem to be murmuring in an unknown language
somehow suggesting a meaning to me.
And clouds when billowed tell me of some distant place I haven't visited.
They display portly faces that look strangely familiar and seem to mouth
Once I heard running water in a stream ripple in nomadic sounds, it told me
the secrets of how to go with the flow.
Flowers often, when in full bloom gossip and say "look at me, aren't I beautiful?"
But when dying cry out say "I was younger then, but now I'm old and frail!"
It seems when picking out socks to wear, I imagine them vying for my attention.
Pick me.. no pick me. And when I do, feel a little guilty that I didn't pick the other.
Once I took out and put back pliers from my tool holder on the wall. One cried out to me saying that I shouldn't put it so close to the other one (considered far inferior). And of course, the screwdrivers made it known that Phillips do not belong with Flatheads.
Should it be, do I have to endure these insults to my sensibilities?
As I said, sometimes.
If I were a rich girl I’d spend all my money on chocolate truffles
Then I’d melt them down in a big old fashion claw tub and bathe
For hours on hours, in warm chocolate suds mmmmmmmmmmm
If I were a rich girl I’d buy me a jet and fly over Paris’s gardens
Then I’d buy oodles of lipsticks of every shade at Champs Elysee
Write love letter to my Dovey with Baton Rouge Crème Veloutin
If I were a rich girl I’d buy 10 Karat gold rimmed thongs, on sale
Then I’d go to the beach south of France and swim with the whales
For days on end I’d bum around the bars and do winks to the boys
If I were a rich girl, I’d buy me a real big Panda Bear off the zoo
Together we’d scuba dive in the blue hole of Belize, tickle the fish
Until they sneeze, now that is what I would do if I were a rich girl
Oh, and if there is any money left, well then, I’d buy me a bit o fur
With the remaining dollars, I’d buy me a real cat that loves to purr
So in the winter when I have no cash, we’ll cuddle and go brrrrrrr!
February 2, 2015-02-02
Thrice I was asked the age old question
Was the glass half full or half empty
Always afraid of a trick, I could not make sense of the axiom
The possibility of either did make me think plenty.
One day two friends came and filled a glass to the brim
I took my own, curious, I filled mine halfway
Not to boast, but I smiled, and made a grin
I asked of them the same question to let them say.
Both were concerned and afraid of my disorder
I drank, drained the glass, and put back in the sink
I finally made a decision & my mind was in order
I saw it as both, neither, and a tool from which to drink!
You see, I always saw optimism naïve as half full
Pessimism it is always half empty and no fun
Realism it is just a glass and the question is null
Opportunism is to use the glass first so my thirst is undone.