Poem | |
I don't like nasty limericks.
I don't like vulgar words.
I'd rather write of better things,
like maybe watching birds.
So many poets feel the need
to write such graphic things.
The art of poetry to me
is making words that sing.
It's easy to be nasty.
It takes no brain at all.
But I can't keep from wondering
where you get the gall.
My poems may not be 'genius'.
I'm sure they don't compare
to many other writer's work
but mine, I like to share.
No matter if you're ninety
or if you're only nine
you needn't feel ashamed to click
on poetry that's mine.
Poem | |
You hoped the nasty words you said to me would hurt me so much that like a turtle,
I would go into a permanent shell.
My parents told me not to give a bully that kind of satisfaction. From all the nasty words
you said, guess what? I'm not feeling that bad at all. In fact, I'm doing quite well.
Yes, your nasty words hurt me at first, just as you wanted them to.
I'm lucky to have parents, responsible adults, and even other kids, who showed me how to
handle bullies like you.
I don't care what you do anymore. I really don't care what you say.
Your nasty words cannot hurt me again. You tried putting me down, but with help from
others, I've been lifted up in every way.
I see you as a small-minded bully, with no positive direction.
I also see you as a kid who could be nice and kind to others, if you decide to change
Just in case you refuse to change and continue with your bullying ways, declaring that's
just how it's going to be,
I'm going to do all I can to spread my knowledge to as many kids as I can. Then the
next kid you try to bully, hopefully, will confidently say to you, "Your nasty words
cannot hurt me."
Poem | |
A VERY NASTY COLD
I’ve got a cold. I must
I’m feeling pretty low,
My head feels full of
bed stuff –
I hope its quick to go.
My throat feels full
My neck won’t support
Small tasks are quite
I just can’t get out of
My muscles ache as if
some beats is pulling
On top of that, my
head is being stabbed
by a large dart.
I’ve got the shivers,
hot and cold.
No comfort can be
I feel if a foot came
And crashed me on
My skin is blotchy,
dry and sore.
I’ve got a nasty
My eyes don’t
I hope this feeling
My body feels so
I’m now feeling
sorry for myself.
Cos I’ve got a
very nasty cold.
Poem | |
The nasty words you spoke in private toward a specific group of people rightfully were made
public and revealed what you truly harbor in your heart.
I'm a proud and intelligent member of the ethnic group your nasty words attempted to debase.
Look in your mirror and ask, when, where, and how did my bigotry make its unfortunate ugly start?
More importantly, have you ever asked yourself why you disrespect certain ethnic groups for no proven
reason, and adore other groups simply because of the color of skin?
Your nasty words vividly reflect a soul that's empty, a mind engrossed in ignorance, and a vision
myopic at best. What a pitiful state of existence you live in.
It's actually sad that in your mind, you truly believe your nasty words are justified, giving you a false sense
of extreme power over the subservient "them."
What your nasty words have truly done is dull the magnificent glow in your heart you were born
with, and displace it to a state of existence, way too far south of being dime.
Your nasty-words-state-of-mind is crippling you mentally and physically in ways you're not even
astute enough to be aware of. Ignorance will not allow you to.
Without heartfelt change, you'll never experience the wonderful embracing of all worthy
humankind. Tolerance and understanding for others not like you, are attributes foreign to you.
So, continue along your path of misguided tunnel vision. You should openly and with vigor recruit others that
think exactly as you do. What a despicable union of bigots you will all make.
Then, for the betterment of humankind, unlike Noah and the Ark, your vile group should congregate in distasteful
harmony, then immediately take a non-returnable ship to distant outer space.
Al Johnson, aka Alfredo Leon
Poem | |
I’m fed up with this nasty life
Which is just a series of sorrows,
Which has no happy yesterdays
And no hopeful morrows.
There’s cure for a man who gets
Injured with swords or arrows,
But nothing can cure the poor man
Who falls victim to your eye’s arrows!
For, sharper are the arrows of your eyes
N’ matchless are the bows of your brows!
Your hair puts clouds to shame!
Your lips beat the rose!
Your smile is quite a lightning!
Your face like moon glows!
You say you'll bless me tomorrow.
My dear! Never come tomorrows!
My heart is so much grief-stricken
That I only know or God knows.
Though sometimes I’m seen smiling
And some times my face glows,
But the tide of tears that keeps
Rising in my heart, none knows!
May God grant that it never happens
That two lovers ever turn onto foes!!!
Poem | |
A little nasty bee flew
past the yellow hill –
fast as running deer
hunting a Rose tree.
Dew drops from her sting –
trembled the butterflies,
wings flapping fretfully –
scorn was in the air tonight.
“Ah, rose, do you whimper?
So lonely and beautiful –
waiting for a hand
bypassing your thorns?
The wind took your aroma far –
the hive where I live is nearby
and like an armored knight
they will swarm undaunted.
I could settle and swing -
the Jasmine in the valley
are blossoming too early -
my last spring, honey.
Now, I must bid farewell –
fear not, your Ripper
is coming, eager and tender –
loving you much so.”
And then went the bee
leaving the frail rose behind –
watched by an grey raven
flying past the moonlight.
Poem | |
She had even nasty group-sex
With different guys
Couple of times
She is so fast
As if she is a brakeless car
Though she is a housewife
Of another guy
Year after year
She tried to make me
Crazy for her
But I didn’t know
About her character
She insulted me
For not raping her
She doesn’t want me at all
Cause I have disclosed
All truths about her
Now she hates me always
As if I am a scar on her face
Poem | |
You say wee nasty... And straight trashy... You look at her with disgust... Telling her shes
the one you distrust... Because of her sex... What a lame protest... Just because she a
girl.... It makes you wanna hurl... Saying we all the same.... We all do it for fame... not all of
us.... What about you guys you do it out of lust... Some girls might say we making love....
You do it cause you just wanna get some.... But were the bad ones... Yet again your doing it
because your boys said so... Not because your hear told you so.... Going raw... that the best
way at least thats what you thought..... 9 months later here comes apart of you.... Dont
wanna claim it and say she did every on in ya crew... Knowing it aint true... Shes sitting
there sad dont know what to do... She gave you something she can never get back.... Felling
like crap... Her whole life is just a blur.... You said you loved her... Wondering why you left...
Whats going to happen next... So in my mind you Nasty... You disgust me.... Treating girls
like trash.... Just to get some......................
Poem | |
Well you're saying your steak isn't rare
And there's food stains on your silverware
You say I exude
A bad attitude
Well just ask me if I really care!
You've been nothing but trouble for me
Now you're trying to get your meal free
I've seen your type before
Let me show you the door
No you can't have a refill of tea!
Now I hear all these rude things you say
Don't you know I work hard for my pay?
I'm as good as you are
Guess I'll go hit the bar
Cos' I'm quitting this job anyway!
**for contest "A Fly On The Wall"
sponsored by Michael Falotico
Poem | |
I wish to god at 17 I had never picked up that first cigarette, because now they are so
expensive and they have me hooked into a mindset, that i have to have them all the time
and quitting is a chore, i would like to quit the nasty things but without them i easily get
bored. I know they are unhealthy the surgeon general clearly states on the pack, i wish that
i could quit them to get rid of this nasty hack of a cough i always get in the morning, i had
better quit the nasty things that nasty hack of a cough could be a warning.
Don't really smoke
just have heard that cigarettes are really bad
Poem | |
Two children insist to be exist
Whining, whining for some stanzas
New window opens their world
Hey twins what are you up to?
One girl sits besides me on her curiosity
And one boy keeps yapping and yapping
The most talkative and demanding students that I ever had
Writing this Poe under the threat of eleven years old twins sibling
They are going to hack this account. They said.
One Poe for a desire of new knowledge to be quenched
Still they read with a lot of comments and complains
What an annoying one
But still, they are the most wondrous students that I ever had
Now they are searching for my white hair
What a day
So should I stop or should I continue?
I think I better run and trick them that I need to poo
Ok, they get distract!
Time to run away from these nasty little two