Best Dirtying Poems
Well! sycophantic misanthropist, verbose agitator of spite
Club footed whore master, couldn’t goose step for his life
Malicious propagandist, spreading hatred in every breath
His wife willing disciple, poisoned their 6 children to death
Demanding patriotic nationalism, big speech carcinogenic
Snickers in vehemence, sardonic grin, genocidal eugenics
Never dirtying his hands, an aryan superstar, not by blood
Master race aspirational, looks into the mirror then shrugs
Doctor of nihilistic supremacy, swearing hypocritical oaths
5 ft 4” gigantic paradigm, inferiority complex, slow growth
Promising victory up to the last, faithful to his fuhrers flag
Cowers from nearby artillery, blasting Swastikas into rags
Hiding amongst his sewer rats, goes insane down a bunker
Mixing morphine with champagne, to alleviate going under
Saved the best cocktail for last, cyanide and bullet casings
Fitting end to crawling malaise, and cockroach infestations.
Biting Satire Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
24/02/2021
I made more than one wish
I stomped my feet and repeated the magic word
I did everything the fairy tales told me to do
In hopes of becoming happy
In hopes of becoming beautiful
In hopes of being loved
I became nothing but a hypocrite
The glass slipper didn’t fit
so I threw it against the wall and it broke
I kissed the frog and it died after dirtying my face
I never want to see another pumpkin for it turns me into a beast
I found no magic spell to break
No curse to overcome, but my own
There was no magic potion and no eternal life
I turned out to be the evil witch and had to escape my own grasp
It was just me who brought my disappointment
The roses smelt nice as I picked through the weeds
I had to scrub my own walls clean and move the memories some place else
Still…I have no regret
I took a wrong turn on the yellow brick road and ended up at a dead end
I pushed my way through the dirt, but was buried by you
It was best for me to continue on
But like a cockroach I remained under the dirt you put there
and left everything else behind, which I went to pursue
But it’s okay
I will remain happy in my times of feeling blue
I ate that apple and lived through it all
I cooled my burns with the ice inside the lamp
The bombs and fire only motivated me more
I decided to stop waiting for prince charming
And become friends with the wind
And like a cockroach, I crawled up from the dirt
I forced myself to new heights
And like a butterfly, I took a chance
I spread my wings…
And flew away
December 21, 2009
Breathe deep into the shale,
vent your anger out into the deep blue
Strangle that rage in the seaweeds,
let the calming tortoise walk of peace
move slowly across the ocean floor bed
There, gently rest your troubled head,
and pacify your fiery emerald irises
Eco-green rage
cannon pointed at the toxic canisters
being dumped in
Eco-green zeal,
environmentally protecting
the baby seals
The trees, the air ... the birds in the air,
for these nature gems you care very much
You despise profiteering man’s
poisonous industrial touch
The water, the soil ... the creatures foraging in the soil,
for these natural jewels you’re willing to die
Seeing the spilt oil on the beach sand,
dirtying the pristine clean land,
makes you wanna cry
You have an eco-green glint of rage
rampaging in your eyes
Gamma-ray transformation has you hulking,
as you watch the earth
sink deeper and deeper into a
cesspool of man-made lyes
And the madder you get,
the stronger you get
Breathe deep into the magma shell,
vent your eco-green rage into the sky blue
Let your volcanic anger transform you,
and let it change
the surrounding sick atmosphere too
May your eco-green rage
pollute the perpetrators’ pockets
with shredded green confetti
Falling like radioactive rain,
draining their bank accounts steady
As their down pouring financial pain
floods the world economy stage ...
Tears of joy cool your hot, eco-green rage
Breath in, pain within,
Restless rattling of wracked lungs.
Breath out, pain out,
Released relaxation of soft flesh.
Breath in, thoughts in,
Never speaking out, always hiding true thoughts.
Breath out, thoughts out,
Calibrated and monitored, dirtying the truth.
Breath in, limbs in,
Staying home, sleeping life away.
Breath out, limbs out,
Running, jumping, participating.
In and out, Out and in. Breathing is such a simple, such and ordinary, necessary thing that we all
do, and yet it belies and reveals so much of a person it's startling. A sharp intake of breath, a
reluctant gasp, labored breathing, soft sighs. The breath of life is known as that for many
reasons and one, because with every breath we tell the tale of ourselves. So breath easy
friends, life rolls on.
What if this was heaven
And I had just forgotten?
I must have died a slow smooth death
And reached the end
In hopes to find a simple God
But was rewarded with the simple life.
If this place is over-dramatized,
Then fear and anticipating waits for me
Behind your begging and bright eyes.
This intimacy is beyond our control
And could hold great depth beyond such thoughts
That fixing your hair in the morning is no longer
The normal and half hearted example of daily routine.
Now changing the sheets is no longer a chore
And breaking hearts is now as comfortable
As driving long distance.
Keeping this ivory dress as white
As it has been all my life,
Has become as hard as dirtying it.
What would I say
If I was asked of my favorite sense?
Would I ever have a reply?
Would you need one with the look behind my eyes?
Watch these broken hearts beat
As if they were whole to begin with.
Watch her layered skirts swish
As she sways on your bedroom floor.
Take her like you’ve done before.
Just as you always will.
With it’s unaccredited inevitability,
She’ll watch your faults and falter
While I wallow in each flaw.
I hope one day she keeps you up all night.
Just the way you left me,
Burning in the fall.
There is such a chill.
I’d make use of my flesh
as a heart warmer if only
it hadn’t withered to naught.
Bone protrusions meddle with
the rags of skin that remain
to drape about them.
I feel shame board off
the windows peering into
my mind.
What does one do with their rejected help?
Where does one go to hide from the
monsters of hopelessness?
Care tries to focus beyond the boards
into the depths of my answerless pupils.
I hear pain meagerly challenge the
question deep within my heart, gingerly
prodding at the loose cloth that remains
of my physique.
When did arrogance overpower the
affect of compassion?
Tears collect around my eclipsed eyes,
drowning out faith, drowning out liberty.
My eyelashes swing profusely at the pools
of sadness, but needles of ignorance
sew them to my brow with threads of pessimism.
I try to watch through the sorrow.
How can such barbaric norms exist amongst
one’s mind?
Slander poisons the air my lungs rely on,
dirtying the words that exit my mouth.
I feel my throat close.
Slander is poisoning my air.
My throat is tight.
Slander.
Tight.
As my eyelids become heavy I have but
one thing left, the fold of serenity in my brain.
Poisoning slander.
Throat closed.
Serenity.
I feel the air carving prejudices into my voice box.
I restrict.
Choke.
Restrict.
Choke.
The only segregation I allow is between my mind and the slander.
The choking is done.
I am done.
Serenity prevails and
I am done.
I am done, but serenity prevails.
I looked in the mirror today,
and I didn’t recognize my face.
It was so foreign to me.
Lines and curves,
I had never seen before.
Even though,
I had looked in this same mirror
hundreds of times before.
What I saw was,
a young girl,
whose eyes were swollen,
and red with tears.
Her face chubby and fat,
from all the times she ate,
to take away the pain.
I saw the blemishes on her face,
sporadically placed like polka dots,
caused from the stress and pain,
that was sporadically placed in her life.
I saw a frown,
that was permanently glued there.
So unwavering and fixed.
Mascara and make up smeared her face,
"dirtying" this picture,
she so carefully tried to paint.
A quick glance showed me all of this.
I turn because I couldn’t bear to see more.
If it was like this on the outside,
what would the inside look like.
The thought,
quickly flooded my mind.
I had so many dreams,
all of them slowly drifting past.
So….
This is my life.
1:30 am standing,
standing in front of a mirror,
in the bathroom.
Tear stained face,
with running mascara stinging my eyes.
And writing …
always writing,
because there is no one there to listen to me,
except these pages.
And if there were someone here to listen,
would they even understand ?
There’s an important meeting
on the upcoming shark calendar itinerary
A prospectus offer from a suitor company
demands an improper greeting
The boss lady wanna know
who’s gonna lead the negotiating envoy
Carry the corporate banner
for this back channel acquisition ploy
But remember,
this is a clandestine, off-the-books deal
Secret illegal, so keep your lips sealed
Tell the boss barracuda,
I reached down
to the bottom of the company food chain
And found the right chocolate patsy:
a real clueless, coconut office toy
Lick your fingers, boss lady,
‘cause he’s the yummy dummy almond joy
Without further ado, I present to you
the perfect scapegoat: code name, Gilly Roy
A gullible, low managerial level coffee boy
His stockroom qualifications
makes him the ideal inside trader regulator decoy
Get the shady deal done
without ever dirtying your hands
Have a human wet wipe
erase any evidence of this covert plan
No need to be shy,
no need to act coy
Send the rival Columbians
our very own coffee boy
It’s so Monopoly Machiavellian,
a deep-roasted Boardwalk blend
Send the coffee boy in ... it’s a win, win
If we get caught,
let the coffee boy take the percolated fall
As he drip, drip ... drip
decaffinated details, of which he really don’t know
much of anything at all
We do the poison pill hostile takeover swallow,
then deny any trace of a paper trail that might show
Boss, I betcha pure Peruvian sugar, three lumps to two,
when the Feds come calling ...
coffee boy is gonna squirt Ecuadoran tears in his brew
Rooted, tightly I pull my coat around,
Against the wind and the haunting sound.
A howl that chills through the soul...
I shiver a dead man’s shiver.
Whose grave has been trodden upon?
A scuffle calls me hither, weaving around a boulder
My school bag, its burden great, falls from my shoulder.
The busy street has abandoned me...
Anxiety smothers me without mercy.
Who is it that’s following me?
I stumble and slide over the earth,
Nature’s debris, after me, calling its wrath.
This wilderness that’s stolen me is not mine...
At a raven’s cackle I take flight.
From where fell this dreadful night?
Running away from what I do not know.
I stop and stare, yet, as ever, I’m all alone.
A wisdom worn sunray calls to me...
A clearing ordering it to a close.
Whose end is trying to end me?
A bus tears past, choking my throat, dirtying my hair.
School children stalk a football, at rivals they glare.
The town clock chimes four, signalling home...
Memories of what passed fade.
But for my mundane, someone lost theirs?
What feelings are real...
I no longer know.
These days happiness comes in packets of twelve
Twenty-first century serotonin is sugar-coated
Forget Skittles
We swallow small rainbows twice daily
To reshuffle the skewed chemicals in our brains.
Welcome to Generation Z.
You’ll fit in here, as long as you can train your brain to be
Politically correct.
We like our divisions invisible
(That way we can pretend they don’t exist.)
So let the prejudice fester in your mind but never
Cross your lips.
Here, we keep our zero-hour contracts pinned to the fridge
But bury statistics on starving children like
Bad report cards.
Empathy should be kept to a minimum
To avoid complication. You wouldn’t want to smudge
The careful lines inequality has painted, now
Would you?
A word of advice.
Spend some time lengthening your stride
So you can step cleanly over the street debris
Without dirtying your soles, and if the guilt
Starts to taste a little too bitter, toss them a coin to
Freshen your mouth.
On the dress code,
Wear feminism as a fashion statement
But bleach the hairs on your upper lip until
The gene for female body hair is
Recessive.
Spring clean your insides once a month
With diet pills you buy online and remember to keep
Your Instagram feed as colourful as your
Medication.
Staring through the sullied glass
Ever present…
A transom of silent reflections
Standing amid us…
Dirtying with every irate grousing
Thick and hazy…
Our windowpane painted shut
Always locked…
Gazing through at one another’s faces
Slowly fading…
Eyeing the desperations of moving lips
Hearing silence…
dear friend,
my fear for you, is that you are filled with a
fire in your
belly &
that out of anger at seeing the
bull*****that is going on around you,
you have felt the need for a while
to try & change things for the better---
while this is most certainly an
admirable trait
for anyone to hold,
the idea that you are limited to the
channels which the powers that be
offer you on a platter,
is one that if you let it, will inevitably
corrupt you & destroy
all the genuine “goodness,”
if i might be so bold,
which you have inside you---
i speak to you with this in mind
due to the intimate nature of a personal
friendship, which has spanned a few years,
during which the both of us have shared
many a conversation on
the nature of the world,
the so-called political structure that this
empire wields &
philosophy in general.
there are other ways of using the energy
which you have exemplified to me
personally, a thousand times over---
history has shown you in all the books you
have read & from the mouths of all those
whom you admire that have never been
disfigured by the american political process,
that there is a plethora of inspirational
women & men, who have been committed to
the betterment of our people & the human
species in totality,
that have never even pondered
the aspirations of power that would lead
someone to offer up their hands
to the bloodying, dirtying &
tying,
which shows itself to be essential
for the climbing of that
fateful ladder,
here in the belly of the empire.
rather than spend weeks & months
thinking about the most “appropriate”
way to express your concerns about
this world & the country in which you live,
DO SOMETHING NOW---
it’s ok!
nobody is going to hold it against you---
nobody worth anything, that is.
with all the sincerity i can muster,
-delapruch
Soft life had decided to give In
A glass of vanilla yoghurt
A piece of cake for breakfast
A plate of macaroon for lunch
And some pasta for supper
Hiking on weekend to the mountain tops
And having some fun by the caves
On the green lands in the high relief
And even when the rains came
I was not afraid of wetting my clothes
Or dirtying my clothes in the mud
Cause in my little spacious room
There was a laundry basket
That will be emptied on my next hike
By the brown girl who'd come visiting
That Sunday Morning,
the fresh scent of winter in the air,
just slightly coming through the door every time it opens,
entering with the people coming in from the outside,
and following them everywhere they go.
Everyone seated,
spaced out as if saving a seat for someone that was never coming.
A man up at the front,
he speaks,
wanting me to listen,
and he thinks I am for my eyes are on him,
but my mind wanders farther away with every word he says.
He asks for a moment of silence,
and as I see curly, grey-haired women
and the almost fully-bald elderly men bow their heads,
I too, look to the floor.
I do not close my eyes like everyone else;
they remain open as I study my shoes on the back of the pew in front of me.
I know I shouldn't have my feet on the books,
getting them dirty from the dry, dust-like dirt on the bottom of my shoes,
but I do it anyway.
I finally notice the silence of the room,
so big it could echo with every slight movement you make,
yet remains silent.
There are so many people in here with me,
too many to count without getting distracted by the beautiful fall leaves,
catching the warm, yellow sunlight outside the partially shaded window.
Still so silent you can hear the clock ticking from the other side of the room.
For the first time I close my eyes
and picture darkness.
My mind wanders and finally,
when I open my eyes,
seeing so many people surprised me,
for the silence was so deep,
it was as if their spirits had left their bodies,
As if they were already in Heaven,
As if God had already called them home,
but he left me behind because I had not listened to what the pastor was saying.
Because I never closed my eyes during prayer,
or maybe, because I had my feet on the pew in front of me,
dirtying the books.
when i arrived on earth
I must have seen the rain through the window
it was saturday in the hospital room
busy women in white
fluttering snowflakes in my made-up memory
giving injections measuring pressure stopping bleeding
a half-naked and thin man hanging on the wall
thorns stuck in the forehead to bleed
I didn't see it but I imagined
the muddied shoes of a bearded worker man
dirtying the ascetic floor of the hallway
while crying hallucinated the loss of his wife
my mother gave birth to so many children
all kind of open mouth birds
waiting for worms to get fat fast
and become bankrupt executives
to perpetuate the saga of the indebted
in some years my friends were three
they looked clumsy and cartoonish
inexperienced characters from a cheap movie
they didn't attend my school
where I almost had fun without laughing
finding out about mosses and lichens
the physiology of the human being
and the miserable rewards
for those who know how to obey
I shouldn't have done most of the things I did
acting in life like an unhappy sociopath
I know this because I always see myself as in a picture
the static moments when my gaze was cold
I've never really been inside these facts
I was that scientist with detailed spreadsheets
annotating data for later report
they said I was a joker back then
it's a lie because I'm still displaced
and I never found my ground