Best Assed Poems
Inspired by a tremendously bold & powerful track, “Who we are” by Machinehead
Once upon a misery call
Deception broke bread with diabetic circumstances
Sugar
Coating
Half-assed smiles
Phantoms of a listless fortitude
Haunting today’s unfulfilled promise
As they wear silken layered Khakis
With African cotton dreams
And unclaimed pocket protectors to share their wealth
Amongst other wealthy failures
They ask to make “change”
While folding up heroin-laced $50s under Cabernet bodies of Christ
Once, twice, three times a deceiver
Who dares draws irradiated chalk upon broken billboards
Not the educated teacher
Satisfying extra-curricular agendas
Grading heat-stroked ovulations
On jezebel’s curve
Nightmare of the philanthropist
Giving unto others’ unexplained wishes
The “hungry”, fed
The lonely, shed
S
h
e
d
Shedding retinal rejections
Over misguided wisdoms
As they listen for audible sanity
Wandering within the bellows of an insatiable burden
(Cricket sounds)
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
assed, america, life, people, slam,
Form:
Free verse
Let Him Go (Limerick)
Our mom told us how she chose her beau,
With an “eeny, meeny, miny, moe!”
Of course it didn’t last,
With a choice so half-assed!
But at least it taught the fool to grow!
Child Support (Haiku)
Parental disputes
Had placed us in the middle
Of their divorce wars
Divorce (Couplet)
He left her to fend for us alone, blasé with his remiss,
She chose to break this conjugal bond without marital bliss.
For (Destroyer ((Poet’s ~DIVORCE CLUB~ Contest
Categories:
assed, angst, childhood, family, lost
Form:
Limerick
Just let go! Let it flow! Let it flow! Let it flow!
Everything’s gonna work out right you know.
I’m looking for a better day. You’re still looking at my yesterday.
You’re playing the same old lame games that I used to play.
So lame witches, what do you have to say?
I lost all behind a man who didn’t want me publicly.
Yes in turn he lost all. Every night he calls my name.
His wife calls my work, church, and all spots I go.
I can’t help that she didn’t earn the title that she no longer has.
Oh Lord, she did nothing to be the wife of the assistant attorney general.
On him I worked hard and nothing about that work was mediocre or trivial.
So lame witches, who don’t love your husbands or give them a peaceful place to lay his head,
Don’t tread or dread my existence because that part of my life is dead.
La dah dah dah dah dah! Let it flow! La dah dah dah dah! Let it flow! Let it flow, baby!
His eyes are no longer from me lazy.
His wife that sat at her job bragging on the darts that she threw me Are driving her crazy.
Her unfruitful lies only crashed my sense of family,
sense of community, and sense of spirituality really did nothing to me,
But made me more of a stronger woman than she already was.
I’ve regained those senses that I lost because she never paid honor to her given boss.
Her senses are gone. I’m home away from home. Yes I am because they just let go and,
Let it flow! Let it flow! Let it flow!
The realness of how I was banished from the boot and the place of my youth.
Yes indeed I tell the truth. Everything’s gonna work out right you know.
My work still flows not on him but on the world. You can’t stop an intelligent hood girl.
Let it flow! Let it flow! Let it flow!
I’m straight up reppin the Southside of Monroe to the fullest everywhere I go.
Where in the hell is the work of that stupid wife and the lame assed pros?
I’ll tell you it is locked up in a vault or behind closed doors.
Mine is on his TV, and in books that are in millions of global online stores.
I’m doing much more. I’m not a belligerent, hostile, whore.
I lived that life because people behind closed doors wanted me to remain poor.
One day I’ll say hurray to my letting it flow and that it did work out right you know.
Categories:
assed, abuse, bangla, black african
Form:
Rhyme
Redneck Angel
Lyrics By Robert Taylor
A thousand cases of beer
Hangin’ with Jack all night
Sleeping with women from a bar
Not knowin’ their names when I woke
Then I saw your eyes in the dark
Sitting alone in the bar
An Angel from heaven sent
Dressed in Daisy dukes
And red hot cowboy boots
You’re a backwards miracle
I walked over and talked to you
Just hoping that you were real
We talked and then we kissed
Spent our time together
Drinking, dancing and talking the night away
How could God have so blessed
A poor assed Redneck boy like me.
I saw you down at the swamp
Wearing plaid, with mud in your hair
You were a redneck angel from heaven
Dressed in Daisy Dukes
And red hot cowboy boots
You’re a backwards miracle
Then I gave my heart to you
At the Antioch Baptist Church
Vows given without fear
My love is yours forever
I looked at your eyes through your veil
And you were crying with happiness
You were a Redneck angel from heaven
Dressed in daisy dukes
Red hot cowboy boots
You’re a backwards miracle
How could God have so blessed
A poor assed redneck boy like me.
Hiding but always in plain sight
Drinking, fishing, mud bogging
Things a girl shouldn’t do
How could you be who you are
Sharing my love and my life
How could God have so blessed
A Redneck like me.
An angel from heaven sent
Dressed in Daisy Dukes
Red hot cowboy boots
You’re a backwoods miracle
Categories:
assed, life, love, god, angel,
Form:
Lyric
Try looking in the mirror
you use me every day,
I had never once thought
my life would turn out this way.
I've been there for you
there were days you couldn't walk,
we didn't know what was going on
I've helped you put on your socks.
I was there when you needed me
what was it I got in return?
Nothing, but a damn hard time
feel as though, I've been burned.
You call me useless when you're angry
and say I do things half-assed,
try being in my shoes for a day
you're making me regret our future and past.
You don't take my feelings into consideration
you only care about yourself,
I remember times in the past
your hugs and kisses made me melt.
At times you leave me standing
in this relationship all alone,
sit back, think about how I feel
at one time, your heart I had owned.
In this so-called marriage of ours
I got the shi$$y end of the stick,
I'm useless? Did I hear that right?
You don't have to be such a d*ck!
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Apr.29/2015
I can't believe the life I've got!! It's pi$$ing me off to no end. Every day that passes, it seems like it's always the same. I get grumbled at, before his feet even touch the floor. Sure...I'm not perfect, but how much more can a person like me take? It's like my life is a damned soap opera. I get TOLD to do sh!t! instead of nicely being asked, like a normal human being. I have feelings too...but I guess they're not important.
Categories:
assed, april,
Form:
Rhyme
After driving so far down the road,
I needed some sleep, so I slowed.
A sign said "motel"......
but one cannot tell,
when the weirdo is due to explode !!
This motel had declared a good rate.
So, I checked into my room, rather late.
But the price should be lower!
Compromised in the shower
By proprietor, young Norman Bates !!
I ran fast down the road, like a chicken !
While forgetting my clothes, panic-stricken !
No more showers, for me ! !
No more bubble bath glee ! !
Bare-assed, I might be, ....but still kickin' !!!!!
__________________________________________________________
4/30/15 For The Contest Sponsored By Tammy Reams
Categories:
assed, funny, night, scary,
Form:
Limerick
An', as [music] blowed an' blowed,
I often looked up at the sky
an' assed meself the question--
what is the stars,
what is the stars?
Juno and the Paycock
Sean O'Casey
Our sacred choir
prepares a new anthem
which, in summary, goes:
I have the deep soul blues today,
so Give Me Music.
This troubles me
because Music erupts from within,
more primal than a commodity
to be delivered on command.
What is wrapped and presented from outside
we may hear only as voices with rhythm
and harmony
and unresolved dissonance--
but all these together
are not yet our enchanting music muse
fully investing
infesting
musing through us.
Choral inside resounded music,
resonate through all four voices,
sharing our deep-rooted muse,
blues soul longing to speak and dance
music of the stars,
To come home again
where we have always shared soul belonged
inducing peace.
Sacred choirs
do not usually demand of matriarchal Earth,
Give Me Music!
More likely we invite experience
of more resilient inside dancing muses
healing like anciently redundant starlight.
I feel angst in soulful mourning
that cannot be healed through commanding
Give Me Music
or anything else, for that matter.
But, loss does invite deeper experience of resonance
and small bits of creatively digestible resolving dissonance
to feel better
about absence of remembering
What is our starlight soul
but well-sung dance
enlightening solidarity?
If we are asking Earth
to heal us with the Muse of starlight mystery,
then, indeed,
Give Us Music's full harvest
blowed an' blowed.
Categories:
assed, angst, dance, loss, muse,
Form:
Prose Poetry
12/28/18
I just received a gift from my {step}mother,
Only three days late this year.
It's a Santa Claus soap dispenser... with a twirl and a twist.
I used to own it well over twenty years since.
It has yellowing soap still clogging the spigot...
*****, you've even treated old Saint Nick like a {step},
How true to your form and fitting that is.
{Step} Santa was more of a message than a gift.
After all, I've been a half-assed {step}son at best.
but {step}mother you must admit, I was always your third-class citizen.
From the brackish affection, impish rags you stapled to my rear,
Minor infractions swiftly met with a belt called, I'll bring you to your tears.
You were the metal toothed snapper in the pond of my youth.
If you deny me this, then you're an abuser of the worst kind
an abuser of the truth!
For the most part, I've freeze dried your slipperiness,
I think {step} is a glacier cold but the perfect prefix.
Categories:
assed, abuse, holiday, mother,
Form:
Free verse
It was the night before Christmas, and I couldn't sleep,
I got out of bed without so much as a peep.
And headed to the kitchen for something to eat,
buck naked, except for the slippers on my feet.
I didn't dare turn on the nightlight and wake my wife,
for the last time I did that, she threatened my life.
The house was dead quiet; I could not hear a sound
as I ventured downstairs, feeling my way around.
I got to the living room, stumbling a few times,
then I heard music that sounded like Christmas chimes.
So, I went to the window and pulled back the drapes,
thinking the neighbors were playing some Christmas tapes.
I forgot I was as naked as a jaybird;
till I heard the loudest scream I had ever heard.
The church quire was midnight-caroling on my lawn,
and in plain view, I stood bare-assed, not a stitch on.
Judging by the faces I saw scrambling to leave,
I don't think they'll ever forget this Christmas Eve.
It was never my intent to flash anyone,
I simply wanted a ham and cheese on a bun.
Categories:
assed, anxiety, christmas, eve, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
The construction workers,
outside my door, are building
something tangible.
I was one once and
I know that it is true.
You see your work and
you feel the pride.
You know exactly what you did
or didn't do.
As I sit here constructing
words and thoughts,
I am never sure just where
the joints will hold.
Super glue, band aids,
jury rigged, half-assed
constructs, and all that I want
is just one solid nail of truth
to hold my joints together.
Then, maybe, I can have as much pride
inside the door,
as I once had outside.
Categories:
assed, allusion, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
with noticeable burgeoning bosom in the offing, ahoy
this baby faced blubbery bosom beastie boy
fast becoming a bra man,
and might hire himself out
as a male wet nurse for employ
ment, cuz when stark naked on shark tank,
I behold two bopping, brewing, busting
flap jacks in search of a frying pan,
which change in my physiognomy doth annoy
but, suddenly spurring,
this ordinarily calm, cool, and collected chap
positing even a more radical income idea
changing ma name to Chester, letting hooters
get suckled, though,
methinks they qualify as milk duds
tit two siamese twin guys christened ell and roy
offering accompanied with serving of cookies,
where adipose floppy blimps
rank popular as novel cheap toy
where art though washboard stomach,
where brestworks didst sprout
as if overnight a markedly increased
from flat “Joe” six pack chest did an about
face, with squishy, mushy, and doughy
sprang up without doubt
suddenly forcing a sexual identity crisis,
which freaky phenomenon makes me wanna pout
for weird, wicked woebegone
affects the psyche of this lviii aged lout
wondering what other transitions,
this fellow may indeed be on the look out
feigning to traverse (in me mind) badgering
rugged hormonal secretion terrain akin to a girl scout
on the prowl targeting a peeping tom,
whose foolery demands clout,
thus this imposed unfair punishment,
as some half assed irreversible decree
maybe hints of other surprises,
yet tubby revealed, which haint no fallacy
possibly being brewed up by a brood
of bruiting imps of the pervert with glee
some bot sized microscopic
anti bosom buddy hood stolen the genetic key
analogous to a pesky malware,
virus, trojan horse secrete lee
scheming to transform the sexual identity of me
perhaps waking up tomorrow minus
my little peppy ***** , and behold a pussy
should such an outcome prevail,
where media papparazzi
stake out this freak of nature re:
doubling efforts erecting fortifications
in a big old sassy tree,
especially if the press
(i.e. particularly meaning Wikileaks)
discovers ability to experience infinite orgasms
converting sexual predilection into electric utility.
Categories:
assed, adventure, age, anxiety, creation,
Form:
Romanticism
went to the toilet it tickled my snout,
the best defence is offence ,
i havent a doubt,
so i fired round after brown,
till it was all bloody out,
till me toilet cantered away,
hope it returns at the end of the day,
till then its your bloody shout ,
and johnsons just having his way,
sent by some big assed lout ...ok,
...
Categories:
assed, adventure,
Form:
Ballad
From within the frost frozen bare boarded shed
with its loosely hung zee braced door agape,
the spring light peeked.
Warming the woodsheds King pine planks,
toasting the ten penny nails,
popping the planks to a toe-stubbing height.
Door slamming dashes barefoot
through the obstacle course of cord, tinder, rake and hoe,
to the semi attached outhouse.
Drawers half down, butt bitten by March’s wind,
the two holer waits, lye bucket at the base.
Curled, yellow-brown, newspaper pages from 1890,
the shade of Uncle George’s pipe stained teeth, wiggle in the wind;
as do I when an updraft attempts to speed dry my bottom.
I make a half-assed mad dash to the kitchen door.
Half way there I stop awestruck
at the gapping door to the kitchen garden.
Raspberry red, tit tipped rhubarb buds and stalks,
warmed by the sheltered spring sun set my mouth to drool.
So stands, a waylaid girl child in transit.
Categories:
assed, childhood, happiness, lifespring, spring,
Form:
Free verse
The Naked Truth
He stands before you butt assed naked
Stripped of all preconceptions, false assertion or allusions
All that he once convinced himself to be true
Now lies before him in a dark, dank, putrid puddle.
Who he once believed himself to be
Has been thrashed and scattered to the four directions
With the cyclonic force of an oppressively hot sirocco wind.
All of his persona have been revealed, his masks are now transparent.
He pathetically attempts to engender qualities such as
Compassion, empathy, kindness, and honesty,
But, he is as Teflon, nothing sticks.
Like a frightened animal, his eyes on the lookout
His movements, his actions, are purely instinctual,
All that exist is the moment, the present, Right Now!
Exposed to the world, he cringes in complete and utter disgrace.
He craves for an exit, a means of escape, to disappear.
Suddenly aware of his nakedness, he vainly attempts to cover himself.
Likened to Adam in the garden,
A man beaten down, brutalized, defeated
Trying to pick up the pieces of his shattered life
Categories:
assed, abuse, anger, angst, betrayal,
Form:
Free verse
Allowing awfully awkward arguments to arise
Self-doubt secludes, so sequestered, sadly... sans surprise
Madly muttering melancholy mottos
Odius, obtuse obligation on auto
Deftly denying deteriorating destruction
Somehow sickly surrendering Soul's suction
Humbly hemming-n-hawing, half-assed heretic
Dejected densely dimwitted dumb ass derelict!!
Cautiously cradling cuddly collected captions
Abandoning all assertive able action
Forgetting forlorn feats, fastidiously folding
Meandering movement mutates morals molding
Leering looks like loathsome lovers lying
Forsaken feelings foster festered fish frying
Eating every emotion equally
Fantasizing freefall freedom frequently
Evenly eviscerate existential existence
Ruefully relish relinquishing rancid resistance
Categories:
assed, social
Form:
Alliteration