Best Grungy Poems
Olive green bottle garden
once beautified her perfect patio.
Resplendent with venust foliage
and pretty alpine flowering cacti.
Sadly, with declining mobility
its owner no longer ventures outdoors.
Now grungy, its only visitors
are two defecating pigeons.
Categories:
grungy, garden, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Two Scavengers in a Truck,
Two Beautiful People in a Mercedes
At the stoplight waiting for the light
nine a.m. downtown San Francisco
a bright yellow garbage truck
with two garbage men in red plastic blazers
standing on the back stop
one on each side hanging on
and looking down into
an elegant open Mercedes
with an elegant couple in it
The man
in a hip three-piece linen suit
with shoulder-length blond hair & sunglasses
The young blond woman so casually coiffed
with a short skirt and colored stockings
on the way to his architect's office
And the two scavengers up since four a.m.
grungy from their route
on the way home
the older of the two with grey iron hair
and hunched back
looking down like some
gargoyle Quasimodo
And the younger of the two
also with sunglasses & long hair
about the same age as the Mercedes driver
And both scavengers gazing down
as from a great distance
at the cool couple
as if they were watching some odorless TV ad
in which everything is always possible
And the very red light for an instant
holding all four close together
as if anything at all were possible
between them
across that small gulf
in the high seas
of this democracy
Categories:
grungy, adventure, suicide, red,
Form:
Classicism
-- Just a bit of silliness --
"Baissez le rideau, la farce est jouee..."
---- Daumier
39 & 1/2 days had passed;
the rain had lessened.
Noah, grungy and grumpy,
paced the wet deck
like a caged Lion of Judah.
Reading the Odyssey by blubber-light,
Jonah, a free-thinker, cruised
in his whale below; he marveled,
captainishly, carefully pronouncing
the unfamiliar Greek, an uninvented
tongue he couldn't speak.
Ham, an adherent to all the dietary
restrictions, was relieved
at the journey's almost-close.
Consultation of the Holy Books
had proved he wasn't kosher
and, therefore, could not be served.
Still, Shem and Japhet eyed him oddly.
They had a lean and hungry look.
The wives, sensible lot,
cleaned the kennels, did the chores
and tried to keep an even keel
in the anachronistic mess.
They drifted onward,
tired of fishing fruitless waters,
doubtful now of being made
fishers of men.
All things considered, it was
a perfectly normal situation:
men were mystics
and women staid and sturdy workers.
And yet, Ararat, still beneath the waters,
may not have been the only futuristic
structure in this grey, flat
seascape.
Categories:
grungy, bible, boat, dream, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
A man once known as Benny Grunch
One day led all his yatty bunch
From rehearsal to a lunch
That ended up in a crunch
When they rattled a bowl of punch
The other guests did laugh and stare
And acted like they didn't care
If Benny and his bunch
Had their grungy lunch
And put on their yatty air
But in the end the chef did send
Them all crawling around the bend
Thus they never went back
To that old seafood shack
And would never again recommend
Categories:
grungy, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
It seems at least one dorm room is the dwelling of a bum.
I visited my son and saw big piles of grungy clothes.
leftover fast food, open garbage--things a mother loathes!
Sloppy sons so seldom seek to scour sickening scum.
Categories:
grungy, growing up, mother son,
Form:
Quatrain
Basement
Occupied of dirty laundry
Comic books
And Chuck Palahniuk
This grungy fume
Smells of coffee beans
Stirred with cigarette butts
And dirty feet
Neutral Milk Hotel is singing
Through that dirty old stereo of yours
On top is a stack of
Scratched up mixes I created
Elliott Smith
Built to Spill
And Leslie Feist
Scribbled with my sharpies
24 pack purchased at Costco
This scene
Is all too familiar
And this room reeks
Of the late Saturday nights
Spent watching Spiderman one and two
Not three
Those summer days
Full of slices at Dream
And rooftop adventures
The miles soaked
In that dark maroon truck
Where your baby brother’s safety chair
Always got tangled up with the seat belt
You got frustrated
And I just laughed
Those kitchen afternoons
Full of Honey Bunches of Oats
And mouth-watering sandwiches
Light on the mayo
And heavy on the mustard
The lazy Sundays
Keeping our hands warm
With a cup of English Breakfast
Find us downtown
Wondering around Second Street
Notes left on the counter
Don’t forget to water the plants
And absolutely no guests
With an examination mark at the end
Love, Mom
You never did forget to water the plants
Hand in hand
With a zip lock bag full of trail mix
Extra M&M’s
With the world at our feet
That smile of yours
Takes me back
Seventh grade
Three seats ahead of me
A small frame
With a big head
Abnormally long arms
A devious smile
From ear to ear
No braces provided
Massive hands
And uneven bangs
A deep voice
For a little man
Stuck inside
A supernatural world
Full of villains
And superhero capes
Plaid jacket
Everyday
Snatched from Goodwill
Cheated the soda machine
And smacked lockers
Just to hear the magnetic mirrors
Crash
The face is so familiar
And the past is vivid
But I know nothing about you
How are you?
How is she?
Do you remember that
One time we
Raced in the dark
Till our insides almost exploded
That night I almost fell
Off your rooftop
Pointing out the Big Dipper
These times
Float through my mind
Vividly
By the way
Your hideous attempt
To draw a triceratops
Is still hanging on my wall
Thanks for that
Categories:
grungy, friendship, lost love, love,
Form:
Free verse
I hate my life,
I hate the people I meet,
I hate the people I love,
They hurt me the most,
I hate guys,
I hate there ego,
I hate how they are controlling,
I hate how they are disrespectful,
I hate how they are mean,
I hate guys who are careless,
I hate how they got attitude,
I hate guys who are selfish,
I hate people who always compare themselves with me,
I hate competitions,
I hate liars,
I hate guys who got low self steam,
I feel like TRUST is a big issue,
I feel betrayed,
I feel numb to the pain,
That it repeats over again,
I never meet good people,
I always meet the one that are grungy and hurtful,
I hate to have friends who lie,
I hate how nobody understands me,
I hate how people always insulate me,
I hope one day karma happens,
So they could feel the pain I have,
I hate how my time is running out,
I feel rushed into everything,
In a short amount of time,
I hate my life so much.
Categories:
grungy, sadpeople, hate, hate, people,
Form:
Strong as a beast,
The best career that everyone would feel envious.
For him there isn't end,
And he is copious.
Has responsibility,
needs to control and motivate the team.
Has humility,
but in his mind has stubborn self-esteem.
The representative of our country,
has pressure by the word "captain".
Doesn't react to plays that are grungy,
That's the perfect action for "captain".
Thank you my hero,
for being my hero.
Categories:
grungy, career, meaningful,
Form:
Verse
I dont know much about her
but I heard she wasnt that talkative
She didnt like being alive
She was numb to all the pain she had to go through
I heard she didnt like anything that was green
She ate roman noodles everynight for supper
She always wore flannels and bellbottoms
Sometimes i seen her wear dresses and fancy tops
But lately shes been wearing band shirts
She wears converse shoes and uses an army bag for school
I know that she dosent like to communicate through talking... only through her peoms
or sometimes even her songs.
I see her drawing and painting all the time
She draws famous people
She would like to be famous and not so unknown
When she tries to speak to anyone they always walk away and leave her alone
When she gets home she goes upstairs to play her bass guitar
She hates chocolate cake but loves chocolate
Her family left her behind because she cant forget her past
Sometimes when shes alone she contemplates the meaning behind her life
Her favorite color is gray because her life is black and white
Everything she says is false according to the world
She is not so innocent
I understand that she dreams about the perfect life
When she opens her eyes they are pitch black
She is someone that is fake
She acts nothing like she should
She is very grungy and unclean
She knows of no safety
and of no time
Her life is smashed into pieces by the giant sun
She will always be a ghost
She knows of no god
She crawls around in the world of death
She remains forgotten
Categories:
grungy, art, childhood, confusion, death,
Form:
Narrative
The lock clicks,
And the apartment is left lifeless.
Each piece of furniture lining the walls,
Is lifeless under winters' creeping touch.
The T.V. was left on,
Playing reruns of "Dukes of Hazard".
Silently it flashes in the background.
A blanket is unfolded on the tannish stained couch,
And a pillow rests near the arm.
Crumbs lead from the small living area to the smaller kitchen.
A bowl sits on the counter,
Holding milk from cereal this morning.
The milk is warm now.
One of the drawers is left ajar,
Plastic silverware is unorganized within.
The mess of the kitchen leads into the smallish bedroom
One bed; unmade.
A small chestnut dresser, with clothes hanging from the drawers.
Some trinkets clutter and a coasterless cup stains the wood.
A towel has been thrown across the hardly carpeted floor,
Leading into the minuscule bathroom.
It is still steamy from a shower in the morning.
A grungy toothbrush rests on the counter by the nearly empty toothpaste tube.
The rusty shower head drips.
Plinking into the hair clogged drain.
It drips and drops, drips and drops,
But no one is there to hear it.
Categories:
grungy,
Form:
Free verse
My front end needs alignment and my rear end sags a lot
My vinyl seats get cold in fall; in summer they're too hot
Beneath the seats; old french fries, pennies, napkins, Laura Scudders
My fuel intake is kind of rough, sometimes it coughs and sputters
My lights are growing dimmer and my gas tank's sprung a leak
My steering wheel's bent out of shape; my windshield wipers squeek
My engine's losing power and my tires have lost their tread
My spark plugs all have lost their fire, my radio's gone dead.
My axle's looking fractured, and my frame is rusting through
My paint job's getting faded and my brakes are fading too
My oil is getting grungy, my speedometer flat-lined
My A/C blows warm air and my transmission tends to grind
This car of which I speak is ME (in case you didn't know)
It's running rough, but still it gets me where I need to go
These classic wheels still get around - they just move r e a l l y s l o w!
written 31 Oct 2021
Categories:
grungy, age, car,
Form:
Rhyme
I loathe shucking clothes,
(no matter eyes severely myopic)
in preparation for here goes
another warm shower quickly
relaxing this senescent
body ready to doze
soon after lathering
this blubbery body
most unwanted fat grows
on me, no matter healthy diet
of worms, or how I stand,
not so easy add a pose
zing losing battle – Mary Jo's
if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering
particularly quiverly, sans white
"WALL" tire tread fully goes
steely belted around lower
abdominal area like lava floes
siring unsightly expose
yore squishy Jew dish priestly
punchy,plasma paunchy, gristly...
pillow like marshmallows
fittingly, rotundly soundly
identical with other schlep
tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos,
this lap pissed lard (lord) Who Lee
bemoaning, how ilk readily knows,
where unwanted bulky flab...
most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance
leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige,
know bull eats obese,
anorexia nervosa or chance
barking out orders reminiscent, when he
hapt tubby a caller at
weekly square and/or contra dance,
now requisitioned to insulate
and excessively enhance
body electric can be mushed
into likeness of fleshy France
or repurposed into expanse
resembling any country,
whose name Kants
be easily pronounced, and historical
events glommed together recognizable
as Ataturk with a lance
bequeathed to rule World advance
sing gluttony as his divine providence,
thus requires deep dish allegiance
(non - fiber - binding contract)
for eats and make decadent
every fleshpot gourmand
stretching cellular skein to capacitance
bestowing guaranteed deliverance
with their rolling
ballooning massive circumference
into orbit with Earthly moon officiant
eternal fondue irrelevance!
Categories:
grungy, age, beauty, clothes, funny,
Form:
Free verse
FROM BIKINI BOTTOM TIMES...
...Spongebob Squarepants...what...atoll...?
plunged into where,...no way...toilet bowl...
supposedly, when the ghostly hand ex-toll
ling praise from his late creator, and master
meow mind of popular Stephen Hillenburg
cast said main character in clean new role,
an unexpected greasy, grimy, grisly, grouchy,
grungy gruff peagreen pissed off potty troll
snatched the unsuspecting
cheerful happy go lucky
animated fellow, who lives
in a pineapple under sea
(at 124 Conch Street) quite
self absorbed with Gary
his pet snail (not answering
questions at this time), we
understand emotional devastation,...
and possibly got flushed....sniffling
and sobbing heard...discontinuation,
this could wreak something
offal to all those avid landlubber
fans (many grownups) cling
to cautious optimism, but accept
vigilant prayers believing
quirk of fate could turn tide
of events & cannot dismiss linking
Russian collusion with attendant
rogues gallery, nor abandoning
any in house political conspiracy,
where top Navy brass calling
attention to an uncommonly
unusual migrant barnacles casing
with doddering fogey "Watergate
Plumbers" in tow absconding
before they could be apprehended
(hmm... something seems fishy)
haint no logical explanation, why
anyone would seek squeeze zing
the porous life out of such a
lovable...how unsinkable... accosting
...argh das spic and span hubble...
such a congenial, gentle, likable...
made himself come to life, (and
make believe to fans) achieving
he really existed, when birthed
from figment of imagination aching
tub be accepted and loved (by other
than Mister Rogers) acquiring
water world renown purportedly
slated to receive Krusty Krab shape
formica plaque engraved with his
name inlaid with finest enameling,
meanwhile...stay tuned at amazing
undrying resiliency as saturated media
updates how beloved soaking
hero does wetter adversity!
Categories:
grungy, absence, anger, angst, character,
Form:
Free verse
For years I’ve had an old dodge pick-up truck
It sits in high grass in my far away backyard
She was a great prop for fun family style portraits
A very classic look for rustic type kids portraits
But now there’s no seat to sit in the truck
So she sits with the trees in the very far backyard
Kids and birds love to play in my wild backyard
Once an owl perched on the mirror for some portraits
And blended in with the peeling paint on the truck
That old truck still rusts in my backyard for great grungy portraits
7-11-2019
This Old Jalopy Contest
sponsor: Craig Cornish
Categories:
grungy, car, old,
Form:
Tritina
Whirling by, munching away at the worn-garnet shingles, chopping trees with its transparent rope and hair-raising dynamism, and flushing your garish memories and spotless portraits down the toilet, sucking them away, fracturing and splintering your heart and soul, for they mean the world to you, they turn the lights on in your life.
Whirling by, facility and adroitness allow you to tiptoe across the stage, do fluent splits, and run the show, for you are conducting a harlequin infused performance and putting on a clinic, for your soul burns brighter, your eyes twinkle extra-scintillatingly, and your hair glows clearer than a luminescent firefly. Your twirling and twisting viciously, like a ballerina, you convey waves of happiness with your blinding smile.
Whirling by, your feelings have gone down the gutter, sank into the sticky, grungy mud, into a funereally gloomy cave infested by wolffish spiders. You are traipsing across an ice-bound lake, skating on an attenuated layer of frozen liquid, dereliction gripping you like the frost bluing your lips, for you are carelessly cracking the black ice, for you've been neglected by your closest peers and shunned by your insensitive parents, and you are just waiting to burst and fracture, for your a ticking time bomb, waiting to burst and explode, spray shrapnel around, slicing and dicing others that care deeply for you, for ending your life doesn't just close the blinds, barricade the doors, and stain the floors with blood for you, everyone who prays for your happiness also cries for your death, for a tsunami doesn't just affect the coastal city, it also affect millions of others that check the news and see the devastation that has been wrung.
Categories:
grungy, abuse, dance, nature,
Form:
Free verse