Best Crudeness Poems
Who'd have thought words make them react like this,
failing to see my wit, just the unattractiveness.
An eye for crudeness that'll overpower the humorous.
I'm sure within their brain a tumour lives.
Has your face ever felt the force of a fist?
It'll twist your perception like a contortionist,
because offence and pain aint two of the same.
One requires staples so that the blood's contained,
the other's just a thought you'd rather not maintain.
I get that neither are a source used to entertain,
but at the end of the day crudeness aint pain.
Offence is just a nuisance you choose to refuse,
it aint a scar, a cut or a bruise.
Scars are something you can never remove,
but when I got mine I made jokes that amused.
So can you help me now please and give me some clues,
when I'd been hit by a knuckle duster I was less confused.
Do you really feel pain when I'm crude and rude?
Please explain how words upset and leave you offended.
How does it feel and how do you end it?
Is it just simple natural sounds that you can't stand?
Compare that to soldiers losing limbs and can't stand.
If this is you I've just one thing to say my friend,
your life is easy if words drive you around the bend.
POTD
5/7/2018
Are times really getting better with race and nationality?
Is there ignorance in color with unwarranted rationality?
My hope is that yes, we have tried to come to understand,
just because you’re white doesn’t mean you have the upper hand.
Attacks on personal preference of what music you enjoy,
or choosing based on race who you wish to employ.
We are all created out of love and should live in harmony,
living in a world where there is complete equality.
I don’t think there is a dominant color of more importance,
and we should concentrate on whether we live in competence.
Some fear other races due to crudeness and ineptitude,
or just plain being unfamiliar with culture and being rude.
To me the color white is just a skin color that is worn,
we should all show compassion for the race that we were born.
January 16th, 2018
Ebony Love Songs – A Collaboration
We’re not together anymore,
but I still feel you in my heart
every day
the bush-that-doesn’t-burn away.
Ebony love songs, ebony fears
fashioned to survive the years
soulful music laced with tears
cry of love as evening nears.
They don’t believe
we have a human understanding of love
but of a truth,
being separated from you,
my world’s in B Flat.
Where have ebony love songs gone?
Transformed to crudeness, oh so wrong.
Breeding hatred ever strong,
with strangling words that don’t belong.
I howl every night.
Your voice talks to me
in my dreams
as the moon, silver
caresses my sleep.
Luther, Isleys, where are you
with melodies of love so true?
Cruising voices, singing blue,
no other sound as sweet will do
Contest sponsor: James Edward Lee Sr.
Date entered: 11-24-17
Warm, sticky hands palm off dry, self-centred ground,
Touched by gingerly acclaiming seeds of new-borns:
Ready, willing and eager for the harsh, expecting role,
Supposedly not with any crudeness, brashness or horns;
As we sit in it, my tears embrace his spritely youth,
And I ask for forgiveness for my naive, vigorous misdeed:
He secures me with his smile and instinctive composure,
Such that I no longer trepidatiously have to sweat and bleed;
Permanency fairly permeates my fearful, angered heart:
The hope of someone else to tease the difficult, awkward task;
My failure becomes his promise, and his foundation strong,
So that the demand is no longer a mountainous, rocky ask.
When you yourself cannot conquer the rough terrain,
Your friends and lovers attend to take the strain.
2nd of October 2015
57 years aback,
Millions of ebony shinning skinned individuals,
Meddled in this part of the world to form a country named Nigeria.
From the stand point of crudeness,
How Ignorance bred colonialism.
A sting never to be forgotten.
Those brutal stripes our fathers had borne,
So much hard work for no cost at all.
We were slaved night and day.
Although split into various clusters of ethnicity,
Colonized by people who saw us not as humans but animals.
At the clock of 1914 we were amalgamated,
controlled by one headlight of power.
As time went one, the baton of leadership was dragged,
From the hands of our dear colonial masters down to us.
We debated between military rule and democracy,
And weighed more in strength for democracy.
We have only but stood for one government,
A government of the people and for the people,
as the rule of law prevails ever ramifications.
Through this journey, states were created out of regions,
It spelt the beginning of a split into diversity.
And yet we have survived all attacks on unity.
We have delved together in pains,
cried alongside in times when blood was shed.
We have held strong to oneness,
moved from one tenure blissfulness to another of pain.
We are proud to stand tall to corruption with a blossoming economy.
We have learnt to love, to accommodate justice in our hands,
And to boastfully prevail over diversity.
From the North, West, East to the South,
Nigeria being so rich in nature's heritage has produced fertility.
we have a large choice of wealth,
Ranging from agriculture, oil produce to other natural resources.
Education has spread forth its wings,
and has embraced us to knowledge.
We have held strong wisdom as key to work wonders in and out of Nigeria.
We are 57 years stronger.
From crudeness we have journeyed through ignorance to certainty,
moved from dependence to freedom.
We are a sovereign Nation, self substitent, powerful in influence and blest by God.
The Giant of Africa- Nigeria
I know a world of sadness in your grace
because in thee, I cannot trace
my own world's longing to embrace
some crudeness wronging, some deface.
Cantingly, subjects stronging with replace
of aptitude, and songing - happier days
that built hope's erstwhile thronging, not encased
with worries staid belonging's commonplace.
Oh love, beloved will - seek thought, not maze
from crippling entities programmed abrade.
That gift of life, of God, not lean-to craze
of modern tempo's struggling with self praise!
His gift of love, I know, with thee .. He made!
Sighing is one of life’s simpler pleasures
So often taken for granted, it appears,
It replaces many less desirable measures.
For example, learning a bill is in arrears
One can merely sigh and lay the matter aside,
So often taken for granted, it appears.
Another example, hearing a remark so snide
Showing boredom at such crass rudeness,
One can merely sigh and lay the matter aside.
Sighing also reflects relief from crudeness
A way of scarcely noticing, then turning away
Showing boredom at such crass rudeness.
Experts say, physically, sighing is a body’s way
Of taking in more oxygen in a time of need,
A way of scarcely noticing, then turning away.
Not like when one noticeably starts to bleed
Sighing is one of life’s simpler pleasures
Of taking in more oxygen in a time of need
It replaces many less desirable measures.
Written December 6, 2022
[posted prematurely as a Terza Rima,
so I edited, re-classified and reposted]
Revised December 6, 2022
Through hell and blows by the hammer of life
you bounced back
Nothing will undo you again
only make you stronger and more whole
Easy street poster child
Hype's the bluffers decoy by those who haven't lived
Blindfolded in their self-deception
They remain juvenile - raw and without form
Caterpillar entombed...... doomed never to crown butterfly
Spared the panel-beater's hammer, they lie idly parked
gathering dirt, rusting and decaying
The hammer's blows iron out our crudeness
and refine us into bright sparkling diamonds for the roles
we star in life, until we are immune to the hammer's slight knocks,
scrapes and scratches - bulletproof
For Alicia Ann Lynch
“I don’t wanna die
I’d rather dance my life away”
~ Prince, “1999” from the album 1999 (1982)
What purpose the celebration of this ritual
Wearing the fears that we face
The better to demonstrate our winning over them
Or the better reason for a party
What purpose the crafting of this message
Depicting the face of the terrorized
The better to make known the fears we must face
Or the better sense of crudeness
What purpose the shooting of this messenger
Firing not being good enough
The better to admit fears too big to face
Or better stick with denial
What purpose the floating of this apology
Passing judgment on a powerful symbol
The better to speed the mob on its witch hunt
Or better be sorry to lose the race
~ Thanks Always Returns
Piles of garbage; sounds of carnage they motion
Blurry images of malnourished children
Struggling for breath and bread
They evince; the struggles as we grow
-of how we ourselves are adversaries to our improvement, a hated compliment;
Of our lust for not the future but the moment
In bold they write
headlines with demeaning adjectives
that best describe our tribe - negros
A continent taken as just a nation
With a bunch of foolish souls
With primeval irrationality, flagrant corrupt officials:
Followers of a God that is partial.
What they will never show
Is the hope and courage dancing
In those malaria eyes
The trueness in our loose ties
They won't write,
Stories of how our crudeness
Made them their goodness
Of us being their reservoir
A training ground for their geniuses —
Perfect confirmation of their guises.
Will they ever have those eyes?
Those that see us as civilized humans
Minding our own business.
Loneliness...
Such a mild word to quantify what my mind feels,
Such an insipid word which provides no effect
In the narration my tale of loneliness,
Words cannot quantify what courses through my veins
Rather let it be left crude and unrefined
For in the crudeness of what I feel
Lies the essence of what I feel:
Loneliness in its true form.
I longed for the warmth of the hug of a companion,
But I received only the cold breeze of winter on my chest,
A constant reminder that I am all alone.
Resoundingly hollow my innards feel,
A constant reminder that I am all alone,
I longed for friends,
But all I got was a pack of backstabbers,
Who stabbed me in the back and abandoned me,
With a touch of professionalism,
'Twas no shoddy job for I still bear the marks of rejection and betrayal,
A constant reminder that I am all alone
Holed up I am in a corner,
Held by the shackles of loneliness,
I have become a stagnant river
Which shall not move e'en though the tide doth ebb me
For loneliness has sapped what little energy I have left,
Dear friend, as you read of my plight, I prithee
Spare me no pity or beg of me to mingle with the pack once more
For I shall not be dragged out of my hole to be stabbed once more,
So I prithee, dear friend, leave me in the solace of loneliness,
For I find more solace in her company
Than I shall ever find in a world of traitors.
I am all alone.
I will love you when the evening exudes unspoken goodnights,
Into dreams that set sail with only you and I.
And end in unbroken mornings that begin in playful grins,
Where you catch me drift into your eyes again.
I will love you when you spill over like cracked radio waves,
When your head hums with static that keeps you awake.
I will sing to you under the tall trees on golden days in spring,
When everything else hushes like an empty midnight street.
And when you run and I chase until we tumble to the ground,
And I seep into your touch like something lost was found.
I think I might love you tomorrow and indefinitely,
But that is me, and I feel far too many things.
If you’re going to leave,
Don’t leave for a man
Who mirrors but does not understand.
Who will tell you you’re only good the way
He trapped you in that second of nudeness,
That empty impression of ritual crudeness.
If you’re going to leave,
Be sure to take everything.
Take the night right out of the sky,
And the dream right out of sleep.
Take the spring and the shade,
And the anthem we made.
And leave me with static;
Leave a blank page.
Leave me with the piece of me that doesn’t lie awake.
Honestly, I admit that I hate you
With every fiber of my being,
Because, no matter what I try to do,
My efforts are not what you are seeing.
I have to tell you that you are the most
Arrogant, obnoxious, self-absorbed wretch,
Who has no character of which to boast,
Which has been proven through this game of fetch.
You are entertained by your own rudeness,
Thus making yourself look quite pathetic.
And, adding that element of crudeness,
Provides an unattractive aesthetic.
I said all of this to "secure 'a win,'"
And now I must say, "Thank you, come again!"
Since the day I was conceived, her delicate hands have held me.
Since the day I was created, her hands floated my first endeavor.
At the point when the tears started to rain, her hands covered me.
She has made it a priority to facilitate protecting her treasure.
She was ecstatic to curl and smooth my classic hair Sweep.
Her hands sufficed, and my scars were concealed.
She drew me closer to the star with her soft, steep.
When I finally got her, she hugged me and, by God, she cheered.
I'm glad that she wasn't hurting me when she was playing.
She seldom uses her hands to form and twist trees.
Her hands would embrace the focuses she was making,
Presumably, I'm related to her and depending on her strands.
Time has effectively weighed intensely on her side.
The radical strive of lifting her hands spurs her soreness.
I've never seen such a shocking model of heart inside.
She is my initial stage where foments all my crudeness.
Who taught Love that the most prized asset is the heart.
An exquisite family has blessed us to call it our own.
They remember us for who we are, not for what I've put in the cart.
She enjoys being a mother regardless of our faults and groans.
ALL YOURS (Jun 15) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Written; May 7, 2021
Listen to the soft excuses and depressing themes
To know its something I never wanted is horrid to me
Filled with the harsh darkness breaking at the seams
Have no justice nor can I sleep I can't be set free
-
These foul thoughts have taken over my life
Grinding for a better day in hopes of another ascnesion
Carve out my corrupted skin with a surgical knife
Abreact to the case of all this unwanted attention
-
Watch as the caffeine begins to rain down
Acrid in its punishment it becomes so lurid
I am ill and mourn for a soiled set of hair
****ing dry this anger becomes so arid
-
Don't look at me it makes me feel crudeness
Get on top of me but feel too much anxiety
Stay concerned a filthy mule of lewdness
Brain develops hate for the forced sobriety
-
I don't deserve this place and it can't be helped
Destroyed and filled with so much heinous anger
Rip apart the rest of my putrid flesh it can't be felt
I'm beginning to scream again I can't even answer