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Best Dirty Poems

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Details | Dirty Poem | |

Peg-Leg Pete The Pirate And Dirty Deadeye Dan

Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate was a very evil man,
He used to eat his dinner from a filthy frying pan,
And when he’s finished eating he’d play “catch me if you can”
With his desperado first-mate known as Dirty Deadeye Dan.

Now Dan was quite a ladies man, but also fond of booze,
In bars and streets and hotels he liked to drink and cruise,
He used to taunt old-Peg Leg Pete by dragging up old news,
Like Pete had only ever needed half a pair of shoes.

One day Pete had quite enough and things got pretty scary,
Confronting Dirty Deadeye Dan whose mood was always lairy,
A sudden hush fell on the room when Pete clumped in the bar
And Dan called out: “Hey, Peg-Leg, hop on over, have a jar.”

Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate clasped the pistol on his hip
And snarled at Dirty Deadeye Dan: “Enough of your damn lip.”
The floozy sat upon Dan’s lap was dumped onto the floor
And Dan rose to his feet and hissed: “You’d best limp out the door.”

Across the sawdust, blood-stained floor they faced each other down,
And you could hear a pin drop from the other side of town,
Eyes were locked and fingers twitched and seconds seemed like days
The tension burned unbearably and shimmered in the haze.

Both men drew their pistols and both men fired fast,
Flame spat from the barrels with the bullets roaring past,
But neither man could aim for squat and when their guns were done
They’d killed two people in the bar but they weren’t either one.

The barman Blind-man Billy Bragg and the floozy Scar-Faced Sue
Lay dead as dead as doornails, as doornails tend to do,
And through the pall of gun-smoke and the mist of rum and beer
Deadeye Dan called out to Pete: “We’d best get out of here.”

And so they did, they fled the bar, and vanished in the night,
Back to their ship, The Crippled Cock, and sailed on out of sight,
Never to return to shore, and never seen again,
The rumour is they sank and drowned just off the Spanish Main.

The moral of the story is that when you draw a gun,
Be prepared to end your days always on the run,
“Or in your case, always on the limp,” said Dirty Deadeye Dan
To Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate, that very evil man. 

Details | Dirty Poem | |

True Art Is A Dirty Deed Done Right

On my way to the loo,
to drop a big number two.

Cannot wait for my stool,
to slip into the porcelain pool.

And 'slip' is one of the key words here-
don't want a huge splash to appear,
planting a wet kiss upon my cheeks.

Achieving the proper poo-poo,
is an artistic perfection of doo-doo.
A life long process of eating the correct combinations,
and keeping the moisture levels just right-
this can save a lot of personal plight.

When I drop a number two,
after it begins to 'peek-a-boo',
I can do without any soft feculent ejecta
resembling a meadow-muffin,
or a sloppy cow pie.

Neither do I want it come out in chunky chiplets,
or large, hardened boulders.
My number two should not be too hard, 
nor too soft and squishy,
resulting in a mess, so sticky.

I am an environmentalist at heart,
trying to pitch in and do my part,
by not wasting too much paper,
when wiping my crappy caper.

A smooth perfect glide,
proceeded by a nice slide
into the porcelain pool,
with a splendid, artistic stool.

No belly-flop splash.
No sticky residue to deal with.
A perfect crime without a paper trail,
or fingerprints of this dirty deed.

When the art of making number two
is truly mastered,
the end result is better hygiene.
Materials thin and sparse,
separate an unclean arse,
from our sitting arrangements.
Constantly see people on the couch,
laying their face
on the very place,
where so many bottoms have dwelt.

There is no greater pleasure,
then wiping my hidden treasure,
with one single wipe.
One single swipe,
and no residue to show.
With my artful crevasse,
I can outclass
anyone with my gassy sass,
of dropping the perfect pass.
A near flawless white piece of paper,
leaves my dung-dispensing caper.

On my way to the loo
to drop a nice number two-
a release of my mastered doo-doo,
pushing out a classy, clean-cut poo-poo.


Details | Dirty Poem | |

The Tale of the Dirty Dick

Girls, if you ever find a man of great persistence
Listen to your ******, and say NO! with adequate resistance
You see chicks, when a dude gets a hard dick
If it's dirty, it can make you super sick
Painful pisses and cloudy urine will follow suit
All because Dirty Dick Man wanted to discharge his root
So, ladies, beware...there are diseases out there
No Dick gets serviced until it's clean and faire
Run, scream, shout, "Spank your ****ing monkey!"
Please, I beg of you, do as I now  propose
Keep your ****** sparkling clean-never let it decompose.


Details | Dirty Poem | |

Shut Your Dirty Mouth

Tonight I thought I shook off a roach. Swore I felt it approach. Imagined it crawling down
my throat. My Dad came out from the den and asked What’s Wrong? I said, Nothing, I’m fine
when I still felt bits of dead roach nesting in my spine. That’s Divine.

I feel the Holy Spirit in me tonight. Jesus Christ! I must have done right! Don’t come
near me, I’m contaminated, clearly. Oh, God, need me! So that the sky doesn’t turn black
every time I look up to seek your advice. My chips are stacked, I’ve got them wracked.
Roll the dice six six six every time. On my Dime. I think I may have crossed the line.
Maybe I’m sick. Maybe I’m not hip to this.

Maybe I just need to settle down. Take a breath. Take a pill. Sit real still. Stare until
I become comatose blare my music so loud that my eyes become brazen and I can’t hear what
you’re saying.

Do roaches bite? I wonder at night. As I hide beneath the covers that used to shield us
from one another. Protect us from the evils in this world, bring no harm to little girls.
Now they just cover up old condoms and dirty food crumbs.

Numb. Numb. Numb. Can’t move. Limbs feel numb, limbs feel wrung, limbs feel slung,
stammering and slurring like grandma after her stroke.

This is a joke. The world’s a joke. We’re a joke.

Then why aren’t we laughing? Why aren’t we guffawing until our paws fall off, our mittens
become smitten and we cough up our dirty lungs with joy.

Oh boy, here I go again. If this is a joke why aren’t we laughing? Why aren’t we guffawing
until our paws fall off, our mittens become smitten and we cough up our dirty lungs with joy.

Details | Dirty Poem | |

A Dirty Basement Room

A Dirty Basement Room In a dirty basement room a baby cries Weakened mother was defiled Forced my law to birth a child Upon a dirty pillow she lies In a dirty room the mother dies Mother and son soon reconciled Victims of government gone wild A time to live a time to die Angry rapist walks streets free Will they listen to her plea? In a dirty basement room a baby cries Angry rapist runs streets free In a dirty basement room mother dies Will they listen to her plea?

Details | Dirty Poem | |

A Dirty Room

Boy was my room a mess!
It'll be considered the best
for a rats' nest.  
I look under the bed,
I find stains that were 
blue, green, and red.
Personally, I'm scared to dread
to know what has stained under
my bed! 
I look to the trash bucket,
it overfills with all sorts
of muck in it 
where the plastic been has
been stuck to it.
I opened the dresser drawer,
an explosion of socks and
underwear hit the floor.
And past, old love letters 
and belts and hats and more
have exploded out to the floor.
My vanity is trashed.
My chair is smashed
And each time I go for a sit,
I fall on my toosh and be crashed.
I've got dirty dishes everywhere,
with extra food for bugs to spare.
It makes a smell of quite despair
that makes us plug our noses in the air.

Sometimes though, instead cleaning
an hour a day
I find it all worth it
to spend four weeks to par-tay,
and only one weekend to clean the pit ;) 


Details | Dirty Poem | |

Made You Look You Dirty Crook

“Made you look you dirty crook!”
And all those colourful phrases
Have vanished from our lexicon
They now belong to the ages!

“Keep your nose to the grindstone!”
Is another from way back when
So sad they've all but disappeared
Wish they could go back again!

Since the dawn of the computer age
We speak in a different fashion
Conversing in very short sentences
Using acronyms without much passion!

We now seem to have lost the ability
To have an intelligent conversation
Emailing, texting, or some such device
Or some other glitzy presentation!

I really long for those simpler days
When people took time to listen
And all the world seemed friendlier
Now feels like something's missing!

Details | Dirty Poem | |

That dirty little N word

           That dirty lil "N" word,
Oh how I hate it so, plagued with such
Destruction, in ways we will never know
           That dirty lil "N" word,
Echos in the wind, teenagers using. It 
Randomly, joking with there friends
            That dirty lil "N" word,
It discredits "who we are" the values, love,
And beauty, beyound our skin colour thus far.
             That dirty lil "N" word,
Used in hip hop songs, continuing its ignorance
For a next generation, to carry on.
              That dirty lil "N" word,
Embarrsed by its content, breeds so much hatred,
From the mental turmoil, it despence.  
               That dirty lil "N" word
Little did I say!! How could a word so lil, impact
Others in such a big way. 
                That dirty lil " N" word. 
Take it as you may, unfortunetly in this culture,
                It is here to stay!!!

Details | Dirty Poem | |

Made You Look You Dirty Crook



“Made you look you dirty crook!” And all those colourful phrases Have vanished from our lexicon They now belong to the ages! “Keep your nose to the grindstone!” Is another from way back when So sad they've all but disappeared Wish they'd come back again! Since the dawn of the computer age We speak in a different fashion Conversing in very short sentences Use acronyms without any passion! We seem to have totally lost the ability To have an intelligent conversation Emailing, texting, talking on Facebook A computer age generation! I really long for those simpler days When people took time to listen All the world seemed friendlier then Now feels like something's missing! © Jack Ellison 2012

Details | Dirty Poem | |

The ''Dirty Old Man'' syndrome song

When traveling among the throng
His thoughts have too often gone wrong
Alluring effects
Of the opposite sex
Have the devil stomping his prong

Details | Dirty Poem | |

"Dirty Wings"

I fell away into night
He tore at my limbs and my life
He left me laying in a corner
Dying with my shame and horror
My wings were bent and oh so dirty
They only came when they grew hungry
As you leave me here to die,
you promised me its the last time
I begged and cried and tried to follow
I lost you as you turned a corner
He flicks the bag all full of wonder
I turned to him all ripe with thunder
My wings were heavier then ever
I ripped them off and threw them down
As they fell they made no sound
My choice was made this was clear
I prayed the end would soon be near
Now only God could tread hear
He pulled me out of terror
He picked the wings up off the ground
My Lord put them back on without a sound...

Details | Dirty Poem | |

warning: dirty senyru

at doctor's office
Virgin magazine waits
to be fingered


12/1/11

Details | Dirty Poem | |

sorry for the dirty laundry mom


I'm not wearing underwear
I can’t afford to clean my clothes
I shower every day
and sensitive skin from soap and psoriasis makes me itch
But I have bills to pay
I know you understand
Raising my little half brother and half sister
I've only met once
who are an ocean away
But this isn’t my story, it's yours
and the memories that remain

I know we've talked about it
Your pain and mine
About dad an alcoholic, and the abuse
and how you’re still attracted to it
But I still remember soo many nights
And soo many strange days

You dragged by your hair
I'll never forget
You thrown through the door
is embedded in my head
You with black eyes
you fell out of bed
The screaming 
The fights
I remember everything said
My name 
My brother’s name
Psychological abuse for you
soo long ago mom
You left and I don’t blame you
Years of you being cheated on
And dad would introduce us to his girlfriends
Easter holidays treasure hunt
While your husband was out betraying everyone

I know you know
That he talks poorly about you
And acts like the better man
But mom I remember
and you need to understand
What you went through
And the nights when I heard the door slam close
because you were fighting
and he told you to leave
That was how I met god in a sense
and always prayed for you to come back
Then finally I prayed for you sanity safety and for you to leave
And I would cry
as quietly as I could
cry myself to sleep
and chances are
dad either fell asleep
or went out in his drunken stupor 
to cheat on you again

The divorce is over
It’s been over for years 
But yet its still messy and I bite my tongue and remember
The night you came into my room
And told me you had to leave
I remember taking beer to kindergarten
Hiding it from you and dad
To throw it away
And my teacher in grade three finally asked
No lie mom
I had the same teacher in kindergarten and grade three
I could write an entire poem
about all of the people who shaped my mind
But I need you to see
When I come visit and am called an incest family man by your boyfriend
for giving you a hug
You’ve fallen into the same trap
And it’s like my own mother I’m not allowed to love







Details | Dirty Poem | |

A Dirty Patch

The rules are posted on a sign – 
The city’s made its mark – 
Instructing drivers there are times
They’re not allowed to park.

The streets require cleaning
So at certain listed hours
The sweeper truck comes swishing through
And picks up trash and scours.

But certain selfish drivers
See those rules and just ignore ‘em,
Assuming that there’s little chance
A cop’ll come before ‘em.

And so the sweeper sweeps around
The cars that will not budge,
Thus leaving certain city streets
With detritus and sludge.

Of course, those drivers drive away
And leave within their wake
A dirty patch the sweepers missed
For someone’s selfish sake.

Details | Dirty Poem | |

those low down dirty blues again

Those low down dirty blues again remind me ‘bout bad times I knew, when tears poured down like driving rain. Those low down dirty blues again that make me sing a sad refrain ‘cause deep inside’s so dark and blue. Those low down dirty blues again remind me ‘bout bad times I knew. Don’t let them take what’s left of me; it’s all I got, just help me live. So strum it down now, set me free; don’t let them take what’s left of me. Just play it hard, don’t want to see that pain is all life has to give. Don’t let them take what’s left of me, it’s all I got, just help me live.
Entry into contest sponsored by Michael J. Falotico Contest Name: What Songwriter or writers Inspire you???? Eric Clapton, hands down. That man knows how to sing and play the blues. Poem is based on his song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3wX1wn-0go

Details | Dirty Poem | |

my dirty little stones in a pouch

my dirty little stones in a pouch
received in a hotel one night
slid them under my pillow
dreamt sweetly
opened the pouch in the morning after breakfast

saw dirty little stones
wondered what they could be
went to smith the jeweller
sat on the couch as i waited for him to wash them
came to me holding something glittery

it was diamonds
i jumped up and down
told him he could sell them on a black market
take his share
i locked them in my safe at home

would you like to hear more
before i do that
i have to go and testify at the hague
diamonds are forever and you too should have them

Details | Dirty Poem | |

Those Dirty Nazis



Cathie finally lets me go out on my own now As long as I wear a tracking device of some kind This, of course, is needed in case I wander away And can't remember where I live! At times I have even been known to take a bus And wind up in a city miles away or even in a different province I often follow good looking ladies Hoping they'll be nice to me and ask me home for dinner! So far that hasn't happened although once I offered to bring a nice lady to MY house for dinner But I couldn't remember where I lived Tried walking into a house that looked like mine The alarms went off and the police took me and my friend Down to the police station for interrogation! That was really quite embarrassing! I've been told in no uncertain terms not to talk to strangers And in particular, pretty young ladies! I whined and stomped my feet but Cathie insisted Or she won't let me go out on my own anymore! I'm as sharp as I've ever been but I do call her Mabel sometimes! Hope we defeat those dirty Nazis! LOL © Jack Ellison 2014

Details | Dirty Poem | |

My dirty hands

My dirty hands

I hold the rich, crumbly dirt in my hands,
Savoring the warmth of sunlight in it,
Inhaling the aromas of power that 
The dark earth holds.

With this power and a tiny seed
I can create wonders.
Where now the earth is idle, I can, 
With nature’s help, sow seeds into this ground,
Watch as small green fledglings emerge
And stretch towards the life giving sunlight.

My gardener’s heart jumps with delight,
And with a feeling of gratitude
I watch over those emerald babies.

There is a lot of trust between 
gardener and plant.
I trust they will grow, they trust 
I will water them, watch over them.

One day soon, some will tower over me.
It is amazing!

In the shade provided by golden sunflowers 
and soft yellow blooming okra stalks,
 I kneel down to weed.
They soak up the sun, I appreciate 
the shade they give.
Happily I work with my dirty hands.








Details | Dirty Poem | |

The Dirty Old Man

His name was Charles Bukowski,
but he liked to go by the name of Hank.
He was a dirty old man,
who wrote poems
and did poetry readings
that paid him next to nothing.
With a wine bottle in his hand
a pack of cigarettes in the other,
with a half burnt cigarette lit in his mouth
and he was dressed like a Hollywood Bum.
But he wasn't sad, or mad
he had a smile on his face.

As the whores walked down with their big asses
and tits that were big and round quarter shaped nipples stuck out.
The Dirty old man, said with a laugh, "It must be cold outside."
And he continued down the lonesome Los Angeles streets,
going to his next poetry reading.

Details | Dirty Poem | |

Bitter twisted dirty Old Man (2007)

A bitter twisted old man comes into my life to heal me
Instead of set me free
He falls in love head over heals
He uses is magic to try and get what is missing in his life
He says if I sleep with him he will get back his ex wife
I refused and he falls deeper in love
Like a good Samaritan I forgive and put the rest above
He creeps and creeps 
It has done to deep
He frays at my life and takes away my friends
All he wants is a means to an end
Dirty old man creeps and twists everything you say
Throws in lies and takes your dreams away
A born liar of pure evil to this earth
I think to my self why did his mother bother to give birth
A wretch and a waste who is out for him self 
Loves people who have so much wealth
Steals from others and takes away their pain
Then throws in a knife to give them pain again. 

Details | Dirty Poem | |

My Own Dirty Little Hand's

Sounds of steel Echoeing
All throughout the Rig
Old men walking around
Talking while smoking their cig's

Smells of sea salt and gas
Mother nature didn't plan for this
A business built on polluting
How could I have signed up for this

Late nights and alarm's sounding
So loud it could scare you to death
Your life and nothing else matters
As long as you reach a certain depth

Platforms are always being planted
While ships are always sailing to sea
The Ocean at it's very worst
A place only God should be

Sheen's and fitting's thrown over
Right to the bottom of the sea
Falling with the oceans current
Poisoning! the beauty of it's scenery




Details | Dirty Poem | |

to dirty soles

that never seem to get clean
even as I scrub you with gravel and
spittle you daily with complaints

you are content to knead the dirt
rejoice in it even every step
a sloppy kiss to newton

who ignored you
and courted an apple

but no matter these skies
of reaching hands and gaping mouths
it suffices to remember
they once joyously suckled on

you were love bathed softly
after the long dusty road
and sweetened with oil

I won't forget the old ways soles
held the string as we swept the sky

Details | Dirty Poem | |

A Dirty Dove

Without you dear, I will die,
oh, that must be a lovely lie.
The lady who told me that 
last year
has called four more guys 
''my dear''
after we...resolved to break 
up
just because she messed 
up.
I am not down for more 
lies,
it's written boldly in my 
eyes!
Love is my life-pact with 
God
spare me your romantic 
rod. 

Kiss the skies, stare at the 
stars,
my heart is not meant for 
scars.
Hug the flowers, carress 
the air,
my mind seeks more than 
beauty-fair.
I don't miss who were are 
to me,
for my lusty eyes were 
blind to see
that you were something 
else within;
Sorry dear, you do not have 
to hid your sin.

I do not care about your 
past,
lies like flames will never 
last.
Love's diary has no records 
of errors,
we may fall, but we are 
conquerors.
When sincerity floods our 
gentle soul,
we will achieve all our goals.
Lies don't last my love,
do not be a dirty dove.

Details | Dirty Poem | |

Sorry for the dirty laundry mom and dad part 3

Slide for a second
I know it was tough for you
But see it through my eyes
You had alcohol to ease the pain
I had confusion of the ways of the world
And the terror of this is the way it’s going to be forever
and soo far I was accurate
Look at my life
Small 
Insecure 
Afraid
Watching my loved ones fight
And my dad never came to that occlusion until he was with my step mom
and he was fighting with her
and I broke down in frustration and he said
It’s hard when your loved ones fight

The broken home got worse before it got better
Because after you left
My next memory
Is purple finger print son my neck
from my brother
Monkey see monkey do
And god only knows what stuff I’m blocking out
Maybe nothing
It’s been hard mom
I know life isn’t fair
While life seems to turn up all roses for him
It hasn’t
Look at the accidents surrounding grandpa's estate
And grandma's cancer
And I love you all
And my life has been a terrifying nightmare
I no longer know how to mask or hide with humor

I know it sounds selfish
but sometimes when I call u at 3 in the morning
I need someone to talk to
like when you call me at three in the morning I talk to you
I don't know what to say but I love you
And you will never have to ask for that
I may never know the truth of everything that surround my life of 
Reasons I cant take a compliment
and cry for the world
and lie to my doctors
and mistrust everyone
But Freud says it goes back to the parents
But I always blame me and god
For all the times I prayed and made the wrong prayers
Like he was some genie
and now you’re all paying the price
for the stupidity I possess I’m not getting any better at handling

Anyway laundry day is coming
and I need some clean underwear
So I’m going to do all the things you taught me
And you know what
Dad never taught me how to shave





Details | Dirty Poem | |

I Know Your Dirty Little Secret

I Know Your Dirty Secret

By Elton Camp


You thought that nobody on earth knew
Much less one who could prove it’s true

You believed by carefully slipping around
What you were doing won’t ever be found

But no matter how hard you may try to sneak
You never know who is taking a little peek

If, with your family, the secret I should share
Can you possibly think that they won’t care

If it is private that you want it now to stay,
Then you will have to pay and pay and pay

Relax, because this writing is only a joke
But I wonder how many it will make choke

For there’s many who act so proper and prim
However, this poem could very well fit them

Few can say that their life is an open book
And that anyone is welcome to take a look