Best Humiliation Poems
My happy Aunt Petootie
comes clomping over.
Your mother says you write poetry now.
Her eyebrows are angry.
Uh-huh. I admit.
She is in full glare mode now.
Why?
Because I like it?
Diabolical laugh.
Hey, Glitzy, get over here!
Guess what Miss Funny-Duddy just said?
I inch out of their circle of hilarity,
wondering why I had allowed
my mother to talk me
into staying an
extra five minutes.
Here in the deep heart
of all this Christmas
love and cheer?
Poetry huh?
It is Uncle Malc-wood.
Aunt Petootie's husband.
I know I am not supposed to like him.
He is an out-law, after all, married in.
I glance down at my hands, barely nod.
My trust window is rapidly closing.
I wish I was an alligator being eaten by a cheetah.
My windows are boarding themselves
up, I am ready to go!
A gentle touch on my roof brings
my house-eyes-self upwards.
Uncle Malc-wood says, "Good for you!"
I guess I could stay another ten minutes.
My TV shows are already recorded after all.
A crystal drop on the child face
who left the shack where mum would hide.
Alone in the streets of guns and race,
nowhere to go amidst the smog of pride.
The dust of a land with thorns and sun,
along the routes to chase the kites.
The thunder tone of a tank and gun,
no milk no hug but hunger bites.
Go fast, go fast the soldiers come!
No joy, no play in their mental array.
Your age, you pale, the bush as home
to hide from those who’ll make you prey.
And when the darkness veils your sorrow eyes,
the trees will move and the shadow will fright.
The village has stars from nauseating fires,
a woman and her child forever immobile and tight.
Your dream of a milk and of a lullaby
soon red of fire and of greed for a peace.
A butterfly on your hand to dry
the tears of dread and the hug of a disease.
A thud in your heart as a van approaches,
your friends are there captive and beaten.
The lion got them as it fiercely encroaches,
the chevron commands to seize and to listen.
Your feet to fly from the lion’s cage,
he puts guns in hands of tremulous leaves.
Your glance on the land of your early age,
your friends now transformed in life thieves.
An when the glance melts into dreams,
there they come the roaring lions.
The beasts and their breed to chase you along streams,
to bring your limbs into deadly riots.
Hiding is now avoiding the open meadows,
taking your life away from guns and slaughter.
A frighten child in the forest shadows,
when the silence is broken by a shot and a order.
Life has gone. It has gone forever,
a bullet has trespassed your chest and your bones.
“Mum please take me! Take me in the Heaven!
To hear from your mouth your heavenly tones”.
Why was I a 32A
Why not a volumptuous D
Can’t afford a boob job
Only one thing open to me
Can use a jelly filler
That feels disgusting in your hand
Or a box of tissues
Doesn’t matter which brand
I have a cold so it’s ok
The tissues might come in handy
Stuffed my bra with them
Thought I looked just dandy
Went to the party smile on my face
Danced ate and drunk, got so warm
Had funny looks, plenty of space
Asked my best friend why am I alone
When she stopped laughing
Couldn’t believe when told
Tissues used were impregnated with
The smelly stuff used for a cold
Penned 10 April 2013
Coal black eyes glinted
Rage surfacing
Seething, furious
He was like a hard stone
Without sympathy
Or empathy
His lack of compassion
Sent me reeling from him
Fire boiled in his touch
Clutching me roughly
Large hands tangled in tresses
Pulling away wisps, curls
Dark as the night
Fright colored me steely gray
Ashen from the dread
Of this man who I loved
Now on the floor
His boots kicking my limbs
My legs and my torso
As I tried to pretend I was no more
Hope struggled up in my throat
Promising he would stop
If only I could fake death
Falsify my demise
Finally, the ultimate shock
His lips puckered up
But this was no kiss for me
This was spittle all over my face
Bearing the resemblance of shame
That claimed my racing heart
At last the degradation was finished
I was mortified in my finish
Leaving me there on the floor
Aware that I had been chastened
For the love I felt
When I first met this man
With his chocolate eyes and dark skin
Inherited from his Apache ancestry
Now I knew that his eyes
Could reveal his dark soul, his cold heart
Yet, he could be so loving
Like a light in the darkness
Where he sometimes appeared from
And I could be so forgiving
Until the realization set in for me
Fear was stronger than my hope
Soon I would be giving up
As the filth and disgrace wore away my caring
I don't know why I have to talk about humiliation,
In the middle of what is supposed to be a celebration.
But my truth is that life isn't a love affair,
And sometimes becomes unfair and instill fear
Whenever we come near our success.
Yet we were not given the spirit of fear but of power love and a sound mind.
May be feeling humiliated because of how I was born,
That is like a thorn in my flesh.
But I have to get a fresh new mind,
That kind only Christ can give because no pain no gain.
Again, humiliated and frustrated by our location
That was supposed to become our limitation
Reducing us into imitations of our real selves yet we are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image and likeness of God who is above and above all,
And always in full control.
Just make God your all in all or He will be nothing at all.
Humiliated by the past failures but failure is never final and success is never ending.
I hope that when you fell you picked up something,
A lesson to better your best.
Always do your best and God will do the rest.
Let go and let God;
Let go your fears
Let go your past failures
Let go your pains
Let go your frustrations
Let go your humiliations.
Because we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us
And with God all things are possible
And we are more than conquerors
Because Him that is in us is greater than him in the world.
Humiliated, yes
But humiliated to succeed.
Limericks dé-crochetés: Is not shame self-humiliation
Is not shame self-humiliation
To be thought of with condescension
All men know some disgrace
Except those without grace
Dignity’s the art of pretension
The man who fears not leaving this world
E’en without heir his name can fame mould
Knows no shame brought by birth
All’s forgiven in mirth
Though what lies ahead mayn’t rightly be told
Memory’s a wild accusing thing
It best serves those who here nothing bring
Nothing take on way out
Nothing leave to shout ‘bout
What one forgets might well be no-thing
Think of all the pain one puts up with
Just for the sake of the ego myth
To be thought of well - swell
Hail fellow well met - hell !
Who e’er lived to de-mystify death
Shame’s the pain we face in hour of need
Stand alone you’ll likely go to seed
Join the crowd to feel proud
The name well-clothed in shroud
All the shame humiliation must feed
End of day finds us shoring up shame
Orchestrated scenes of death-bed fame
Funerals in black staid
Write-ups by friends well-paid
All to keep shame hidden in the name
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Hearts beat in shallow chests as brains tick in empty heads
Unseen eyes glitter as to small hands pull to big triggers
Money wouldn’t let go as it dragged the world behind it
If bombs fall killing everyone do they make a sound?
Lies come from microphone equipped stages as the masses keep a clapping
I watched millions die for greed of the liquid black gold genre
After he lost faith the son of god sold out and did Nissan car commercials
Truth is swept under the rug by the politician janitors
In the jails of hate of race only people stood
Only language of government, propaganda
Nations bleed white vomit as they all turn into one
Open your mind to your own thought not just what your taught
Flags of freedom flew high creating shadows of corruption
Someone asked quietly did he find his nuclear weapons?
Our violence took control as we laughed at history
Calling voices from the gutters to an unhearing feeling
Indicating that this is a mistake and it may be too late to start to cooperate
Even religion took its place behind the rolling tanks of destruction
Thought is the only thing left to save
Kneel to our new god, fear
We all saw it
We all heard it
We all read it
And smelled it.
Meanwhile Deedeepee is rotting in jail
For probably having committed a similar crime
Some do the crime and others don’t do the time
Similarly, some go to Heaven and others go to Hell.
The world smelled it
The world read it
The world heard it
And we saw it.
Some people are above the law
Some people are found to have no fault
Somewhere, God needs to tight the bolt
So all can hear the unwonted song of the crow.
No jail time, no fine and no probation
However, we all felt the humiliation
For God’s sake, an Honorable Christian like Jimmy
Would have never been in such a gnarly quandary.
We all smelled it
We all read it
We all heard it
And the world saw it.
No further explanation
We wonder if justice was done
No further condemnation
History is always fair, just and fun.
The world heart it
The world read it
The world saw it
And we smelled it.
Copyright © January 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
the compression of the recession
tempting me to kill intimacy
and dance with humiliation.
She is a low life skank
Trailer trash honey
Dressing all up
And taking your money
But I would trip her if I saw her
And spill my coffee on her dress
And make her into disheveled mess
And yes darlin,
She done you wrong,
So I wrote this song....
Your wife should not napalm your life
To sleep with all your friends
That was no way to make amends
It makes her just a hussy
And a low class ****
And there is no makeup or outfit That can dress that up
You can’t pull that kind of high jinx
And expect any man,
to ever fall for you again
So she will be alone, just wait and see
And we can sing about it and someday laugh you will see
Love you Cowboy Poet, this was not your fault . (C) Artimus Susan Manley 10:55 AM 10/30/23
Humiliation is a form of suppression,
a presumed thought of superiority;
we all have intelligence and intellect,
but events hinder some to achieve their full potential.
Written on 9/14/2015.
Humilation cripples the majority of us,
but the best revenge is often success.
Humiliation is a form of suppression,
a presumed thought of superiority;
we all have intelligence and intellect,
but events hinder some to achieve their full potential.
Wasn’t it bad enough that he had his grandfather’s name?
He was not at all thrilled be delivered to a kindergarten class
Of all girls.
The teacher said, “Ladies, we have a new student. A gentleman.”
His name is Poindexter.
And the laughter began.
Through a limerick a poet once bumbled.
With the meter he fumbled and stumbled.
So he thought: “How pathetic
to be waxing poetic!"
And he hung his head thoroughly humbled.