Best Disrespectful Poems
They elude me now ...words
Drinking befits a drowning man possessed
Swimming off this broken page
Baton winning in a relay race
I breached the ribbon sliced with chest
Joy! I gasped
Grown tired of my own riddles
Those halting jagged lines
Conversely I committed
So disrespectful of my crimes
In dispatchment utter lunacy
Forgiveness once again!
Ive come to claim my lost respect
My place so quick forgotten was
So Zeroed out of ten
Twelve steps from cursed enslavement
Danced to music uncontained
Toi-toi in lone detachment
Side stepping their allure
And tangoed with enticement
And cha-cha'd with no cure
Then dropping over hurdles
Burning through those barricades
All over all these obstacles
So help me God I try to change
No longer need prescription
Still sometimes do I crave
Unshackled is your prisoner
Dispossession freed this slave
There is something about that -ism
A mystery by name
Other than recovery
Benign this deathly game
Be it known that happy healing
Doubles, behind the curtains of shame
Categories:
disrespectful, addiction, appreciation, day, drug,
Form:
Free verse
I heard Congress was spending money like a drunken sailor
And I thought this was disrespectful
Congress spends like they are obsessed
For the future they’re neglectful
It’s disrespectful to drunken sailors
It is totally wrong what they say
Drunken sailors never spent
Assuming their grandchildren would pay
I was once a drunken sailor
And you know what’s really funny
I always stopped spending
Whenever I ran out of money
Congress are elitist bastards
So let this story be known
When drunken sailors spent that money
They only spent their own.
Congress has no conscience
Part of the political machines
They can spell INTEGRITY
But they don’t know what it means
I’d rather be a drunken sailor
And spend only what I amass
Than to spend it like a congressman
And be a horse’s (OH!! You know what I mean)
BMC Vince Suzadail Jr USNR-Ret.
Categories:
disrespectful, political
Form:
Rhyme
Early one morning a group of rookie's and veteran's ballplayers emerge onto the prac-
tice field destine to began an grueling season of hardwork and a dedication to an common-
goal of Superiority. They come out of the locker room after the coach has given assign-
ment's and now everyone minds are on one accord, one agenda and together they all say to
themselve's. "The road to a Championship began when the priority to be the best", "is know
from one and all roads to success is gear towards teamwork and passionate loyalty to suc-
ceed at any means there is". Loyalty to push on through the inclimate weather, hardwork off
the field as well on the field is approachable only when a championship atmosphere surrounds
itself with ballplayer's and not attitude's disrespectful to the cause of the challenge's to be-
come the best at what you do, and do the best at what not to do. Teamwork is a do-able part
of the puzzle, but there's more to it then that. There is hunger, and then all the pieces falls
together when that hunger is fed an astronomical desire that fill-up the body and your minds
with offensive and defensive individual's that love's victory and enjoy's a desire to not finish
the race in last place. So out emerge's a champion in his relationship to his fellow ballplayers
and to his family as that of maturity and that of unlimited resources of the uncoachable en-
tangable fortitude that seperate the advantage's over the disadvantages that make his or her
teammate's reach the level of sportsmenship unseen and redeem as the fans come to see a
player that value's himself and value the diffucult task of Sunday to Sunday ability to be not
only a scholar athelete but also The road of a Champion is what make's him love to compete:
Categories:
disrespectful, adventure, art, devotion, inspirational,
Form:
Narrative
the blood of love leaks out
through this punctured
saddened wound
bleeding hurt unspoken
cries for help unheard,
no surgeon could ever help
the shocking pain of but a word
how one so casually inflicts
such wounds upon those
they have once told
of their undying eternal love
held tight those two bodies
as she wanted so to hold
yeah, love can be quite nasty,
so disrespectful of your heart
and torture you forever
until from life, you should depart
Categories:
disrespectful, lost love, sad, love,
Form:
Fickle sun with watery eyes
low upon the horizon lies
hanging his boots over the side
of our soggy, rain weary world.
Disrespectful, his pipe smoke curled
around dripping mountains, blue dyed;
fickle sun with watery eyes
low upon the horizon lies.
My cute rain boots are filled with frogs!
The sun should shine! Old pedagogue
hanging his boots over the side,
over dripping mountains, blue dyed;
fickle sun with watery eyes
low upon the horizon lies.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, October 11, 2014
Categories:
disrespectful, nature, rain, sun, ,
Form:
Rispetto
I tried my best
To show you part of me.
The side of me
You've never seen.
I'm more than a daughter;
I'm an artist, a writer,
A sister, a friend
And now to you a stranger.
I have a question,
Have you ever realized
That I have my own voice
And I have my own life?
I'm not relinquishing my soul--
I won't sell it to anyone.
If I can't be myself
Then who will I become?
I have a mind of my own,
A heart and gifts.
I have a life of my own
And it's mine to live.
Yes, you gave me life,
But it's not yours to give.
You gave me this life
So I can learn to live.
Tell me, have we met?
Have you ever seen me?
Or did you just see my music,
My tee shirts and jeans?
It's not what I look like,
It's how I look at myself.
I'm embarrassed to show you it.
Only you and no one else.
Don't be disappointed,
Mad or upset.
Be happy I have morals,
A mind and self-respect.
I'm the person I want to be.
I stay true to myself,
Meaning I'm me.
I'm me for no one else.
I'm smart and independent
Because you made me this way.
I'm no longer fearful and afraid,
That's not how I wanted to stay.
Now do you know me?
Or should I continue?
I'm making you realize,
I'm not being rude.
So make your decision.
Please, I just want an answer.
Not to be disrespectful,
But are you my mom or my mother?
Categories:
disrespectful, childhood, daughter, life, lost
Form:
Rhyme
I've spanned these banks for many years,
made evident in the rusty tin adorning my roof
My sides are scarred , colors been stripped
from angry storms through hundreds of seasons.
My river bed ran dry back in late October
then Winter snows frosted my planks
but I was still fit for anyone crossing over
from one side to the other of the Kanawha River.
Come Spring, rushing water will flow under me
splashing over rocks as it rushes to the sea.
Bird droppings will build along each window sill
when nest-building robins arrive in flocks.
People walk across my wooden floor
some hesitate before taking each step
for my trusses tend to creak now and then
and I swell in places; curses of growing old.
I've been crossed by deer, hoofed by cows,
wheeled over by bicycle's and horse-drawn buggies.
They were all kinder than the smelly fumes spread
by those disrespectful autos that never slow down.
My weathered brows face North and South
making me a tunnel for bold Nor'easters
that swiftly tear through me and chip my paint.
I like to think it enhances my pastoral character.
I might be 'rickety,' but if you call me 'shabby'
that rumbling you hear will be me grumbling.
I'm proud of the state I'm in, physically sound
and geographically, two miles outside of town.
As long as I can stand on my supporting piers
I'll relive memories made beneath my roof.
A covered bridge spans more than the waters
of the gentle river where life flows free beneath me.
August 25, 2017
Categories:
disrespectful, environment, river,
Form:
Personification
When I’m sinful, as I am by nature…
Forget my wisdom and gossip or darken
My heart with hues of dread or desperation
Feelings felt by a heart who is disrespectful
One who knows they’re not following directions!
When I’m errant, as I have been know to be…
Following my nature instead of grace or peace
Heaven knows I feel as if I’ve fallen from grace
And that I have no chance of entering heaven’s gates
Or knowing the warm touch of my Father’s ways!
When I’m wicked, as I know that I can be…
Darkening the light that God’s glory always gives
Sighing with discontent, silencing my joy and faith
Reaching out toward the evil instead of the virtuous
There comes a shadow falling over my hopefulness
When I’m corrupt, as I would like to forget to be…
Risking my love on worries, fear and trepidation
Yearning for a chance to take back those things I did
The ones that taught me a lesson, but made me feel…
Like I was someone deserving of God’s rejection!
When I’m evil, as I am by my very nature…
I find my heart receding from the light that He gives me
Eclipsed by apprehension, trouble and darkest agonies
Yearning for the chance to get back to my best again
And give Him my sincere love - affection… praising eternally!
When I’m obnoxious, disgusting or unpleasant….
I know He still listens, despite my iniquity
He whispers…. “Child, you need my blessing”
“Please listen… follow my directions - please”
“Love, love, love… is the answer”… His wonderous correction!
BELIEVE!
Categories:
disrespectful, faith, god, hope, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
My word is my Gold
No ifs nor buts attached
A spade’s a spade
A joker’s a clown in a circus charade
I think carefully before speaking out
Knowing my feelings maybe bias
I censor my mouth
If need be
And Up against a Wall
I’ll tell it like it is...
Never being disrespectful
Sometimes the truth may get you killed
I avoid all kinds of liars
For where there’s smoke
Surely there’s fire
Certainly, Misery loves company they say
So if it's looking for a Victim
I'm getting Out of the WAY
My Voice is my SOUL
What I Choose to say I hold
My Word is my GOLD
Categories:
disrespectful, character, courage, faith, wisdom,
Form:
Verse
Thirsty Water
I should have gone to work today but
your tongue convinced me to come
inside and play with you…to ride our
red rocket ship to the distant planet of
lust where our sensual sins are instantly
forgiven and celebrated amidst mute pleas for
gentle mercy so rightly ignored as a token gesture to
rationality and begging for more is of course
granted by the Court of No Regrets
You alone have always held the secret
key that released the chastised prisoner of
passion locked deep inside of me your taste
buds have caressed every morsel of my
body as if I were an ice cube wrapped
in honey much like the oyster swallowed
whole to tease our ravaged pendulums whose
demand for thirsty water shall be quenched at
the moment our tongues mysteriously turn ice cold
Irish
Note Author Disclaimer: to my fellow poets....these are just words
on a piece of paper and an experiment in new
writing styles/expression for me. Topic is not meant to be
abusive or disrespectful to ANY reader. Please note this poem is categorized
by me in the 'Passion' category of PS.
Categories:
disrespectful, passionme, me, sensual, planet,
Form:
Free verse
Tolerant coaxing aided my first hundred starts
to rescue you from your own negative dark.
I failed and failed while you grew more hurdles.
My sanity got trapped in sketchy drawn circles
where time left me helpless as you sharpened
more false things into outrageous doses of hurtful.
Came your broken wrist and me to care for you.
I brought hope for all we might joyously mend.
First eve, your dimples did not smile or reach your eyes.
Still, with hope, I hugged and kissed you good night.
Next morn, your bad mood launched commands,
demands, accusations and insinuations that
tugged my frustrations into poking my anger
and I zoom-zoomed beyond my hoped conversation.
I startled, then wondered who voiced such aggression
that ‘F you’ was spoken aloud to my elderly Mother.
It was me, no - I was surely possessed by someone foul
and vulgar …. or perhaps I was desperate to convey
all your bitterness insisted we senselessly suffer;
perhaps … I was desperately reaching out to my
treasured Mother, long loved, but now hidden …
and missed by all her children and grandchildren.
My overwhelmed-self spilled bluntness abruptly.
I ache over what I cannot forget whenever it hits me.
Since the time of my disrespectful utter,
God best soothes my Mom-pieces to someday still gently.
At your age, you change all facts around a bit
which eases me in living with how you live with it.
... CayCay Jennings
October 11, 2018
Categories:
disrespectful, anger, anxiety, change, character,
Form:
Free verse
When you walk into my classroom
Man, you'd better be prepared.
If your poodle ate your homework,
You might be a little scared.
'Cause I'm a pistol packing pedagogue.
My Colt is on my hip
And my trigger finger's itchy
So it's time to get a grip.
Better not be disrespectful
And forget it if you cheat.
No one messes with my lessons
'Cause I pack a little heat.
Yes, I'm a pistol packing pedagogue.
But do not be alarmed.
See they're paying me a bonus
If, inside my class, I'm armed.
It's a crazy world we live in
But I thank the NRA
And our president, for making me
What I've become today.
That's a pistol packing pedagogue.
You shouldn't be too shocked
For at least my gun, like this idea,
Is less than halfway cocked!
Categories:
disrespectful, teacher,
Form:
Rhyme
Mocking the dead, is that a thing?
How many ways can one be disrespecting?
Laws that cause offenders to be free?
Rape kits that exist only to be not breached.
Little lies and big divides of right and wrong genocide.
Our forefathers could not ever predict
We would be as disrespectful as this.
Ancestors bones surely roll like river
As the wicked become powerful while weak lips quiver
Fowl language and worse ethics morale and actions
Political powers that endorse for private satisfaction.
Mocking the dead what about the little kids
Who inherit the earth in the shape of it
We enjoyed youth clean air and water
And dirty it up for son and daughter.
Looking back only with limited views
Erasing the truth of ill will and abuse
A country started by taking from the natives
Blended into a melting pot of many races
Mocking the dead playing music head like fiddler
Warming the red bed of fire for Hitler
Are we so pompous we can never admit faults
Until it is too late and we too are lost?
Written 9/21/23 For Mocking The Dead Contest
Sponsor Silent One
Categories:
disrespectful, america, betrayal,
Form:
Rhyme
People have learned it is okay to be themselves
They no longer have to follow their parents or any dogma
They can make up their own religion, and no one cares.
People watch television twenty-four hours a day now.
Children can be disrespectful to their parents,
And it is normal. No one says anything until they get
So out of hand they have to be jailed, usually about age eighteen
When their mamas cannot “save” them from their bad choices any more.
We have computers in our houses, and we have something called Internet
Which means dictionaries, Thesaurus and world books are out-of-date, not used.
No one knows what RSVP means any more. Teachers call in sick now on Mondays.
No one keeps a job for twenty-five years; twenty-five months is the norm.
We have been to the moon, and we have mooned each other at football games.
Women are tattooing their arms, legs, backs, and piercing their navels.
Lots of people can work out of their houses and never have to socialize with others.
Electronic devices keep us entertained, so we never have to speak to each other.
Most people do not cook anymore because we run out to a restaurant all the time.
Some families do not even keep food in cupboards; we could eliminate kitchens.
We fell into the Twilight Zone in 2020 with a virus called the Corona 19.
Schools, restaurants and bars were closed by Marshal law. More on that later.
Categories:
disrespectful, nostalgia,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Under dark protection of the night the gruesome two-some take to flight,
To exhume the grave of the recent buried, in a wheel barrow the bodies ferried,
Body snatchers creep at night, the open coffin brings delight,
Strip bare the corpse of wealth adorned, delivering the body before the dawn,
One with a shovel the other an axe, with powerful blows the coffin cracks,
The lid split open the crypt undone, access gained to the disrespectful ones,
Cold as ice the body lay, undisturbed until this day,
Burke reached in to rob the dead, as Hare watched on, his greed be fed,
"Help me Hare this one is stuck", his feet were sinking in the muck,
But Hare looked on his face turned grey, as Burke was being pulled away,
The ground beneath began to crumble, as Burke and Hare began to stumble,
The grip of fear had them tightly bound, as the corpse took hold of both their Hands,
Burke screamed "For God's sake help this is no joke", and that was when the Spirit spoke,
"Burke and Hare your fate is sealed, by the hand of death from which you steal,
Tonight The body snatchers me, as I ferry your souls on deaths black sea,
I take your life's to pay your debt,
Too long you taunt and tease the dead",
The ground opened up and fire shot through, the screams of torment echoed Through,
As Burke and Hare could not break free, from the depths of hell they could not flee,
Falling deeper underground, their bodies never to be found,
Yet listen close by graves at night,and you will hear their screams of fright,
A warning as they burn in hell, never desecrate a corpses shell.
Categories:
disrespectful, deathbody,
Form:
Rhyme