Best Insult Poems
That dirty green hearse (the
first one I'd ever seen)
Mushed through traffic
Like a Notre Dame back
on a muddy field.
Dripped slush, tears
Aiming straight down
A hollow cheek
and left to mingle
unnoticed on concrete,
And flung salty sleet
Bathing me in half-hearted
insult,
Two miles from no-land
And a scented corpse.
slightly edited June 30, 2021
insult
hidden in the curve
of a smile
To whom kicks llamas
Action reflector reply
Sticky face ingrate
her cold crimson corpse
into the heart that loved him . . .
he now twists the knife
Written 4/9/15 by Andrea Dietrich
For the Get Your Senryu On Poetry Contest of Judy Konos
*Written as my hands are still burning from picking this vile vegetable*
"An Okra Insult"
By Rachel Heffington
My wrath is on thee, Okra
I would dearly love to choke ya'
If you hadn't quite so many little hairs.
For they always make me itch,
In a manner fiery which
Isn't pleasant when the heat of summer flares.
Oh, you have a pretty blossom
But your smell is like a possum
And when cooked you make a gorgeous, slimy brew.
And you prick and itch my arms
With your ticklish, burning charms
Till I'd gladly run your vital system through.
You bring lots of money, though
From the people who don't know
All the evil secrets hidden in your heart.
And I sell you at our stand
Though you bite and sting my hand--
We're a partnership...I guess that is a start?
My long lost friend,
from the age of ten,
fell into a sewer stream.
I took his oath,
a matter to us both,
that he'd by me be seen.
A moment later,
a snap of an alligator,
forced me into the side stream.
the waters quickened,
and narrowed by lost thicken'
hurling us down different paths to docken.
When we did dock,
we were separated by no ease of lock,
nor trail to reconvene by walk.
And I worried for my friend.
Whose path was filth for fiend,
and I thought my passage was clean.
I had yelled at him my worries,
while struggling with my own stories,
and shamefully thought he'd fail life's quandaries.
Shameless was I -
I judged he'd not satisfy,
the cruel challenges life belie.
And shame I felt,
for with ease he did vie,
better than I could try.
And made his life better than was my;
and played his hands better than dealt;
and by my oath before him I knelt;
for at life he was the better than I.
Those who make ethnic boxes on forms we must check.
Who of those get lost in life's shuffle who holds the deck?
Irk! It's insanity, those who think Jesus loves them most.
Long live humanity—Armenia was the first Christian host!
There are those who use Christianity to end their rant.
They use it only to put forth their political slant.
Those who blame the government and stir up a fuss.
Weren’t they taught early on the government is us?
Those who say they're sorry but show no remorse.
Then do the same things while they ride their high horse.
Death is due an insult
In fact, it's way past due
Born out of sin, no next of kin,
No love for life, no reason to.
No positive occupation,
To me it's pretty clear
He goes about with lip stuck out
His business is to interfere
With life and all it's blessing.
He doesn't think it's odd
That no one wants him hanging round.
He needs a better job.
Reta Pruitt
August 25,2018
April 20—Standup Comedy – The Insult Comedy Tour!
How and why he
Remains so popular
With some Americans
Remains a mystery.
He remains me
Of an old-time insult
Comedian, Don Rickles
Who was infamous
For insulting his audience
Who loved his edgy comic stylings,
As he cruelly mocked
everything and everyone.
But, over time, people got tired
of his routine
And his style of humor faded away
But he has resurrected
The insult comedy routine.
Going to his rallies
Is akin to a religious revival
For some people.
They delight in being
Part of his whole mad
Carnival scene.
but for many of us
the T comedy tour
is no longer funny
if it ever was.
I wound myself
Blood dripping
From tears
I cannot control
Misfortune falls
Upon my every step
Crashing to my knees
Now shattered
Limp arms
Grasping for a hand
Too scared
To save a life
Fearful of all
Desiring rest
Just death
Eternal peace
Billy the penguin went to the dentist
because he didn't take care of his teeth,
All brown and yellow like a fungal growth on your feet!
Billy was always snappy and chatty,
he loved to interrupt,
Now he felt punished after years of making
the tooth fairy bankrupt.
Inside the waiting room the tick tock
of the clock got louder and louder,
Each passing second was a pitiful reminder
that Billy was going to face a life without gnashers
And oh how he loved his mother's rashers.
He sobbed.
The dentist called his name.
With each mortal footstep an imprint of shame and pain
ohhhhh Billy had no one else to blame.
I'd explain it to you, but you'd never catch on
because I neglected to bring my puppets and crayons.
I want to tell you lastly
The smell of you is ghastly.
INSULT FREE MUSIC
It will be a politer world when we reach the stage
Of California never forgetting the Little Deuce Coupe, you know,
And the suntanned Beach Persons of young age;
Walkin’ ( or perhaps rollin’) to New Orleans with Obese Domino;
Hucklebucking ( whoever knew what this meant?)
And twisting with Rotund Checker, all twirled;
England still smelling gorgeous Spice Persons’ scent
And Large-mouthed Armstrong, in his wonderful world.
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Note
In a school quiz which I once chaired, most 17 year olds thought
Louis Armstrong had landed on the moon (this is not a joke).
(after Robert Desnos)
I spit in the eye
of the father of the bride
of the blacksmith who made the axe
with which the lumberjacks
cut down the big old oak
with a hundred lusty strokes
and which they split in half
and from which the bed was carved
(with a swag of fruit and leaves)
in which the fellow was conceived
who became the great-grandfather
of the guy with the massage parlor
where, provocatively clad,
your mother met your dad.