Best Obscenities Poems
That other world
is out there, beyond the quiet
I keep bubbled around me,
the noise growing louder along
the flag strewn streets,
banging drums marshaling
the inflamed minds of the masses.
Something has gone wrong.
I no longer feel I belong.
I keep my door closed
and curtains drawn to shut out
the anger from a passing mob,
reinforce the boundaries of my home
with walls of books. They have
marched through and littered
all the lovely places
where I once walked, covered
beauty with garish signs.
Something has gone wrong.
I no longer feel I belong.
Out there, all seems to be
of no worth unless shackled
to a cause. Tribal camps yell
obscenities across the lines
of division and commandeer
their gods to mouth
a sanctioned hate.
Something has gone wrong.
I no longer feel I belong.
And what can I do
but play with a frail voice
and think of what could be
and on dark days,
take hope and defiance
in the gentle arms
of Emily Dickinson's poetry.
Oops, It was an Accident
I accidentally let one loose
on a blind date with a guy named Bruce.
We went to the movies on that fateful day
happily carrying our snacks on a tray.
We settled down in our comfy seat
all ready to enjoy this special treat.
Things were proceeding oh so well
with popcorn, hot dogs, banana split with caramel,
when suddenly my stomach began to rumble,
and to my dismay, gurgle and grumble.
In fear, I felt the gases build up
like a once dormant volcano about to erupt.
Then helplessly, I had to just let it loose;
oh my gracious, the stench was profuse!
Mortified I wanted to drop to my knee,
but played possum so none would suspect it was me.
People started shouting such gross obscenities,
and hollering out unmentionable profanities.
One voice declared that something had died;
another indignantly wanted the stinker identified.
Someone suggested the skunk should be drowned;
I wanted to flee, but I dared not turn around.
So quietly I sat unknown in the dark cinema,
as poor Bruce wondered aloud if someone had been given an enema.
My heart boomed forth just like a doom-drum,
I prayed no other foul odor would escape my guilty bum.
But like a clan of skunks, it lingered and stunk,
I was so afraid folks would figure out who’d made that funk.
Thankfully I was saved from public disgrace
as ushers armed with spray cans fogged up that whole place.
Gratefully I sighed, relieved that my crime
had not been traced back to me by show time!
07-09-2018
Contest: I Accidentally Let One Loose
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Placement: 1st
I was caught by a train yesterday
I hear people say
this often in exasperation
exaggerated tones
with over-dramatic groans
as if the train somehow
physically captured them
in its large mechanical grasp
diabolically refusing
to let them go
Yesterday
I was caught in a different way
imagination captured, you might say
captivated
charmed
and enchanted
by the passing art display
Something about the way
vibrant, vivid colors
unexpectedly
splashed out on moving canvas
of rust red and dull gray
traveling fast
across the city
feisty train talking smack
with tags and words amusing, witty
strange, disturbing, edgy, gritty
grinding down the tracks
Sometimes shocking-
artfully rendered obscenities
or surprisingly
endearing
cartoon creatures
manga characters
from overseas
expressed with impressive
expertise
and ingenuity
As other drivers sat nearby
fussing, fuming
missing the show
pawing their floorboards
like impatient horses
hands gripping wheels
ready to go-
I watched the trains in
constant childlike
wonder and delight
for those twenty minutes of my day
two trains gone by, one each way
...Then watched the other cars
rolling through
still red
flashing lights
as soon as crossing arms
were lifted halfway
rushing, roaring
trying to make up
the time that was “taken”
by the railway
I read it from the bathroom wall.
God alone save's us one and all.
Along with other mixed obscenities like
for a good time call.
Some read rise against.
Others read Elivis was here.
God bless America communist take fear.
Its the lost and found of misspelled words
were the misfits gather do they all.
Im stuck here in a inconvertible position reading writtings from
bathroom wall.
I strain to read Robert and Beth forever.
whomever they are.
I question does this bathroom last through stormy weather.
I wonder what kind of philosopher finds solice in such a dingy
place.
Do they comb the wall just lookin for space.
Theres traces of blood from a drunken brawl.
Im sitting in the true melting pot of the world.
Reading writtings from the bathroom wall.
Do you sometimes see a Zulu Warrior
Staring back from the mirror in the morning!
A nasty fierce looking bad tempered dude
Obscenities flying out without warning
Crabbing bout having to make a living
But enjoying all the many accoutrements
If it wasn't that, it'd be something else
People just love to complain and vent
A shower and shave, you're almost human
Not one person will ever suspect
That a member of the Zulu Warriors tribe
Was a coworker of great respect
Do you sometimes see a Zulu Warrior
Staring back from the mirror in the morning!
© Jack Ellison 2012
The air thick, like a sweet sticky syrup
Sirens wail, polluting the air with chaos
Voices screaming, obscenities, obscure messages
All the while little children play, in pothole streets
Faces everywhere, stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
Cries in the light of day, bloody hands wave
Freedom, Choices, a single right
Lost trash, food piles, scattered along roadways
Dirty shoes, dangling over power lines
Faces everywhere, stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
Ever searching, an invisible cape, a quick escape
Smells of rotting food, bloated flies
People who cant stop licking their lips,
twisting their hips, and geeking
Car alarms screaming, like a symphony out of tune
Faces everywhere, stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
So hungry, empty stomachs, empty hearts, empty minds
Seeking to fill, to satisfy, lapping up milk and honey
Praying for rain, to wash the stench, to hide the sin,
away…
Lost, undone, alone, without love
Faces everywhere, stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
Writings of love, of peace, scatter in the rain and wind.
An iota, a seed, a shining light, dimly lit in the night
People gather, curious, watching, many hoping
A gentle voice speaks living words, of life, a better way
Faces everywhere, stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes
Facebook I wonder if you are a blessing or a curse?
People Sharing their pictures and videos of their best and worst.
Clever sayings, obscenities, prays and vulgarity.
Show up on your pages with some form of regularity.
You will find people you have seen or haven’t seen for years.
Laughing one minute and then shedding a river of tears.
Selfies of woman showing what God has given them to cherish
Proudly displaying themselves when they should be embarrassed.
Religion and Politics is a good way to stir the emotional pot.
Both thinking their right when you know for sure they’re not.
You can share your likes, dislikes and give a comment or two
But be careful not to be too honest or you might just be removed.
Games of every kind you will find here for your pleasures delight
Sending requests to people even when they don’t want your invite.
Facebook is a place people display their everyday life with others
Making statements that could hurt or showing love for your mother.
Facebook is not the one I should blame for what it shows on its feed
It’s just an empty space to fill with life’s true nature for others to read.
So before you post your thoughts and feelings in this open space
Ask yourself would this be something I would be willing to share face to face?
You stood in the dock when the guilty verdict was read out …
Just a spotty youth with a cocky look in your eyes
Now sentenced to five years in prison, I hope you rot in hell!
The defence team tried to make out that YOU were the victim
You had drug and alcohol issues, which catapulted you into a life of crime
I had to sit there and hear about your past
Was I supposed to feel sorry for you?
What about me, the real victim…
You’d entered my house, hell bent on stealing what little I had
I handed over my widow's pension but you weren’t satisfied
Demanding more, you began shouting obscenities at me
You started trashing my house trying to find my jewellery
High on drugs - you were like a wild animal
Your fists rained down like bullets … you beat me senseless
My daughter found me unconscious, lying in a pool of blood
I spent weeks in hospital
Now I’m terrified of being on my own and have moved in with my daughter
I couldn’t go back into the house I so loved
You will be out of prison in a few years…
I have a life sentence
Through their eyes 2 – Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
08~12~16
How different this place
this sanctuary feels, here
inside one’s head. Where
insidious illusions fondle
a subvert mind, and obscenities
resonate within the confusion,
when fidgety creatures, assume
guardianship of my preternatural
situation, scurry around my space,
creating lattice of fabrication
across the quaking ceiling.
My imagination becoming
their fodder, my perception
their power, my tenacity
their strength, before spinneret
interweaves segregation of my
day and night.
Bollocks! To the physician of eastern
promise, he that controls this
nightmare, drip feeding diurnal
poison to this empathy
lost within an advocated paradox!
“Yet surely I have no need of
hatred, now I am confined within a
fragment of one’s dream.”
A genus of warmth; yet a confused
state of perplexity that knows
no boundaries, where bloodstain
walls survey me, incessant shadows
dance in gutless sunlight, and
radical rays anoint me with
“Hope and religion.”
I call out to Rock’n’roll!
Sammy Turner gives me
an impetuous rendering of
“Lavender Blue.”
Then I see an old man struggling
with his own situation. Touched
I call out.
“Are you ‘Jesus Christ?”
He scans my inquiring mind.
He senses I’m an imposter,
he raises one finger
affords me two words!
Both of one demystified syllable!
© Harry J Horsman 2010
He's running out of Colour.
*eternity eternal mind over matter
*He forms combative images of daffodils and lilac hedges
The Grey Seeps From his Eyes.
* His heart holds abundance, life close, close as a shield
Nature is Turning Black.
* All of the mind intent melds a joyfull palette into an encompassing black
- Can't You Smell Their bitter Entrails?
* Retching he adds fodder to ripen the ground for rebirth.
He Could. He felt them weave
*Balance sought to assert dominance over discord with the Fathers hand.
In and out of His Senses,
*Mesmerizing optiforms presenting themselves
Alienating his Perceptions.
* He strains to hold human concepts dear.
- Count the Bodies, Count the Women
and The New-Borns if You Want?
* From Death, Life, from Life, Death
*the endless circle sustains his weakening heart.
It's Just Math. No longer
*The count down, or up? continues…….
Did Time Stress Relevance.
The Sky was Red: and Empty.
*Empty, yet, the promise of nature abhorrence of a vacuum ..screams.
- If You Wait, They'll Come Back for You
*And you, son of God, child of the Mother will deal……-
He Walked Through Various Flesh
*Seeing the shell for what it was …casing of soul…..
Obscenities, Traveling for Miles.
*Caricatures of Man, insults only to ego long gone.
But The Smell, The Smell Had Followed Him.
- Where's Your God Now?
*………………Now and forever, his soul answers, eternal in the heart of man
*……………………beating with the pulse of the Universe……..
*…………………………Ashes to ashes…..dust to God……….-
*I felt it necessary for my soul to reply, please forgive me Conor? A month of wicked was
too much without a reply.
*spot poetry: Written in 15 minutes or less about any random subject.
Betwixt
Betwined
Beneath the tweed
lay the nasty pin
It pierced my toe without a need
My foot had lost again
Of all the places I should step
I landed on this pain
"Walkin' on pins and needles"
just doesn't mean the same
I merely stepped up to the lamp
To read the daily news
When all at once
The pin, it stuck
Submerged up through my shoe
And yelling out obscenities
I screamed these words in pain
"Either I get shoes with thicker soles
or ne'er read news again"
A slice of Americana
love their Mar-a-Lago cream cheese pastry
immorality a lot
They crave their leadership cake ...
spin-sugar batter laced,
full of vulgarities and obscenities
in a profanity pot
Call truth to them:
this is guaranteed to give your soul gut rot
Response be a fork crooked limb:
give us another slice please, we love it a lot!
Politically incorrect gluttonous fake bakery eaters
admire a misogynist strong, dictatorial leader
Someone who demeans women,
flush their feminine dignity down the toilet
Strip their honor bare and sewage transport it
Mar-a-Lago Café got a line out the door
that adore the pungent immorality smell of this
Let Trump blow freedom a snot rag kiss,
Mr. Booga Man do autocratic Aryan insist
Sour cream de la spoiled cheese,
oh how they love it so ...
Begging the Prez Fuhrer’s pardon, yo —
they’re neo-Nazi-ing for another slice please
Getting soul gout ...
selling their empty calories
conservative principles out
Mar-a-Lago decadent immorality
served by the hateful spoonful, no doubt
Cream cheese colored bigotry
Very Berry White crooning
on the karaoke vanilla jukebox grapevine
Take one last slice before democracy closing time
But you didn’t hear it from us black raisins,
standing in the back of a separate cafeteria line
Tower of Screams
Shake, rattle, and roll as the obscenities pour from his troubled mouth,
troubled mind, and tortured Soul! Poor, poor little boy unable to control
the uncontrollable, so hard to console the inconsolable...
It is a pain to observe, imagine the pain within him? Can you hear the screams,
the nightmares are real, the fear is constant, happiness is immediately replaced
by the Demons within, good can't win, not this one, it belongs to sin...
Incoherently mumbling...something...but nothing...except obscenities, they flow
free here in his screams, they are bellowed out loud in his dreams, which are
never-ending so it seems, he screams...and screams...and screams...
life is all tragedy without relief, this is beyond belief, a terrible disease,
he believes, really believes that he is in Hell...and I am beginning to think
that maybe...just maybe he is unfortunately right...
Because only Evil itself would continue this child's suffering...
and the suffering that we share watching him...
Unable to do anything...
WE CAN'T DO ANYTHING!!...NOTHING!!...
But continue to suffer with him...as we are here just stuck on
the Tourette's of his Syndrome without ammunition...
Just listening...and listening...to this tortured child cry...
Entered into contest: "Deep & Dark II" Hosted by: Laura Loo
Poem Revised: 10/25/17
Human hunters with spiffy new clothes
Driving jeeps, yelling obscenities,
Blowing their inflated egos up with puff
Their guns are huge, angry, and mean.
I run from them but I cannot get far.
BAM! They murder me in front of my child.
Who will take care of him now?
I do not die quickly, so they knife me.
Over and over; I feel their rage.
They must hate elephants, I think.
Not realizing all they want is my tusk.
I see my young calf looking at me.
He does not understand.
I am a butterfly now, heading toward the rainbow bridge.
I expect him to follow but they do not kill him right away.
His ivory is not big enough yet.
Soon I think.
They talk…
All fires do
Some mutter, some sputter
And if you think they don’t live
Then ‘shame on you’…
They consume…
All fires do
They eat virtually anything
At times leisurely
Licking and tasting
Other times quickly
As if time was wasting
They breathe…
Sometimes they whisper
Sometimes they whimper
Sometimes they sigh…
Sometimes they sputter
Obscenities to the sky
They feel…
The water that we use
To extinguish the flame
They protest…they hiss
As if feeling the pain
As they die…with a sigh
As will do you and I
Fire is the genesis….
Of things great and small
Our atoms created
From brimstone and blaze
It’s our father and mother
It’s our Lord and master
It’s The maker and measure
…of all things…and ways