Best Rip Off Poems
I wonder
Who I might become
If I wore another man's clothes
If I thought his thoughts
Dreamed his dreams
Lived his heartache
Felt his insanity
Walked along his razor's edge
Would I
Understand
Empathize
Digest his pain
Rise above his circumstances
Would I realize how easy my own life has been
Perhaps
I could search through his pockets
Look for answers
Remove the tie from his neck that strangles
Rip off the clothes that make the man
Return his sanity
Free him from the labels sewn on yesterday's promises
Or I could walk
A bit longer
Search a bit deeper
Discard my own misconceptions
Feel his peace
Think different thoughts
For he is more and less than me
He has danced and loved in exceptional ways
And as I walk and wear his shoes
I hear the tapping of his soul
I become
Aware
It is not him
Not me
Not anyone
That can save us
From ourselves
Yet we are changed
In inexplicable ways
By wearing
Another man's clothes
I chose this one for your contest because I feel as
a poet I put myself in other people's clothes all the time.
I like the premise of this contest and I hope this gives you
a glimpse of who I am.
Richard Lamoureux
Submited to Linda's contest
written in early December 2013
Categories:
rip off, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Your mind has designed the perfect lover
That sensitive man of your special dreams
You wait for him to rip off the covers
Late night dinning with kisses and moon beams
You are awake and still dreaming of him
That sensitive man of your special dreams
Alone in the night the lights grow dim
Thinking about love and what it all means
You are awake and still dreaming of him
Real life may not always be filled with steam
You try to be thankful but it seems hard
Thinking about love and what it all means
With imagination you play the card
Even though you're aware it isn't real
You try to be thankful but it seems hard
In the end you can't help how you feel
Even though you're aware it isn't real
Your mind has designed the perfect lover
You wait for him to rip off the covers
Categories:
rip off, fantasy, for him, night,
Form:
Terzanelle
9/20/16
I am Caroline Foster.
I am fifteen-years-old.
I am shortish.
I am rather thin.
I am intelligent I guess.
I am oblivious.
I am weird.
I am childish.
I am different and not in a good way.
I am the girl who sits in the front of the class because I am expected to.
I am the young actress who can only find her voice through being someone else.
I am the nerd people only become friends with so I can do their homework.
I am an encyclopedia, Google, and a dictionary all rolled in one.
I am an outsider.
I am the one who will never be accepted because of my social awkwardness.
I am and will never be anything more than a textbook.
I am only a tool.
I am scarred from the knives I have cut into my own wrists.
I am depression, a dark room with the light switch torn out.
I am anxiety that screams with deafening volume just to keep me chained to the ground.
I am the one who’s supposed to know all the answers.
I am expected to be a perfect little robot who should never step out of line.
I am afraid to accept myself for who I am because of fear of the judgement and rejection of others.
I am the girl who is taken advantage of because they know I’m too scared to say “no.”
I am terrified of failure and not meeting the highest of standards.
I am hideous.
I am disgusting.
I am so ugly that to attract a guy I have to hide behind pounds of makeup.
I am sick and tired of being labeled by my skin, religion, GPA, cup size, and my face.
I am done hiding in the shadows and letting the opinions of others control me.
I am waiting every day for it to be my last just so I can get away from all the hate.
I am suicide ready to happen.
But, I am beautiful.
But, I am unique.
But, I am still that wide-eyed dreamer who just wants to write.
But, I am a writer of stories that could change the life of one.
But, I am not what others think of me
I am not just another face among billions of others.
I am chosen.
I am a daughter of God.
I am here for a reason.
I am me and still discovering what being me means.
And I am okay with that.
I am telling you to rip off the history and stereotypes that you have been forced to lug around for so long.
I am showing that no matter who you are, there is still light at the end of the tunnel.
I am Caroline Foster.
Who are you?
Categories:
rip off, angst, anti bullying, anxiety,
Form:
Free verse
MONOTETRA: Each stanza contains four
lines in monorhyme. Each line is in
tetrameter for a total of eight syllables.
What makes the Monotetra so powerful as
a poetic form is that the last line contains
two metric feet, repeated.
STRUCTURE:
Line 1: 8 syllables; A1
Line 2: 8 syllables; A2
Line 3: 8 syllables; A3
Line 4: 4 syllables, repeated, A4, A4
A Beach Lagoon
Gorgeous day, it's mid afternoon
Bored, looking for something to do!
Oh, I was just invited to
A beach lagoon, a beach lagoon
Crystal blue waters, ease my mind
Unleashing my creative side
Poetic versus organized
Time to unwind, time to unwind
White sand like silk between my toes
Makes me want to rip off my clothes
Keep on my mesh shorts I suppose
I stand in pose, I stand in pose
Many shells like the angel wing
Skipping the waves, flat rocks I sling
Sun tan is beginning to spring
The pain it brings, the pain it brings
Intoxicating scenery
Secluded from society
Just me, myself and poetry
Feeling set free, feeling set free
Sun starts to fade, the moon appears
Just about bringing me to tears
This day has quickly disappeared
Now in my rear, now in my rear!
Jared Pickett
4/19/2012
Categories:
rip off, inspirational, pain, beach, me,
Form:
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“she’s such a beautiful little girl…”
What was it about me that gave him attraction?
Only a sick old man could find sexual satisfaction-
Six years old was I when my innocence was stolen,
my essence once whole, then left in sheer fractions.
He was the prodigal man, the boy made of golden.
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“what happened to my sweet granddaughter?”
From where did he learn such pleasurable abuse?
He was a monster at best, dense and obtuse-
I’ll never forget the first time he pinned me down,
I was so little and weak as I tried to refuse,
in solitude I wept, forever wearing a frown.
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“she used to be such a good little girl…”
I turned nine and still held onto this harm in silence,
too young to realize the effects of his violence-
I was wounded on the inside and outside had scars,
turning into a sassy girl full of disrespect and defiance.
He would finish with me then go smoke his cigar.
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“oh you rude girl, my son would never do that!”
She never listened to me as I carried this cross,
and losing my grandma became my greatest loss-
She turned her back on me, I never saw her again,
she used to love me, was my absolute best friend.
His harm broke us, and our relationship paid the cost.
I can hear my grandma say on her deathbed,
“sweet girl, I’m so sorry…for I too was a victim”
Why would she avoid my pain from his pleasure?
I guess she was threatened by him beyond measure-
Oh, I wish I could rip off his hands and throw them away,
my life should’ve been a gift, an undamaged treasure.
Now I live with the guilt and shame every single day.
I can hear the Lord say,
“my sweet child, forgiveness is the key,
rest assured in darkness hold onto me-
When your fear takes a turn for the worse,
I pray only My light you shall see,
always hold My hand and put Me first.
Let's talk about it contest
August 1, 2017
Categories:
rip off, child abuse,
Form:
Rhyme
-Daily Poetry #19, February 16, 2017-
Word: Human
As
soon as
I was born,
a label was
thrown on my forehead.
The world had planned it out,
I was just another doll
in this vast world's society.
Straight, Christian, Gay, Agnostic, loveless,
What label would they throw on me this time?
A nerd, a cheerleader, a nobody,
why do I question where I belong?
Is it because of the label?
Reaching up, I rip off the
thing that won't define me.
I am nothing but
HUMAN, for I
am alive,
and still
here.
I
can feel
emotion;
love, hate, and I
am still happy here.
I see the world through eyes
that may be worn, but still shine.
Bright colours, sun and rain, I see
a world where I am just a HUMAN.
And nothing but my near future matters.
Black, white, Native American, labels
don't matter when everyone's alike.
It's a future I would look towards,
where everyone can express
themselves freely and smile.
If humanity
is what we are,
we will make
our own
love.
Categories:
rip off, absence, anti bullying, humanity,
Form:
Free verse
White Tiger
Giant beast,
un-caged power of destruction,
taking apart my life one day at a time.
Ever-growing and living off,
the suffering of my apparent lack,
of everything.
Your secret has been revealed.
It is no longer possible,
for you to traverse,
the same path twice.
I have dipped you in water,
you tear easily now.
Made of nothing more,
then fine paper,
now of lesser quality,
due to flaws seen in the Light.
Your teeth, fallen out...
upon the floor like confetti,
your nails, colored pink and girly.
No backbone, no spine,
you have been gutted of your bite,
and placed into the fight
of your life.
The pressure you have caused to rise,
will now make you small,
turned in upon itself, to rip off...
your own tail.
You have no power,
no prowess, no vigor, no worth.
All that you sought to take,
has been taken.
All that you sought to break,
is still unbroken.
Meow cat,
you have been let loose,
a stray in an alley,
no better or worse,
then those around you.
You are home now,
where you belong...
on the street.
Categories:
rip off, abuse, anxiety, divorce, growing
Form:
Free verse
With a tattoo of Dallas on one breast
She decided she wanted another
After a while she made a decision
To get a tattoo of Paris on the other!
A few weeks later at the Mardi gras
With no help from panels or committees
She decided to rip off her blouse
And show everybody her cities!
Categories:
rip off, body, culture, feelings, identity,
Form:
Quatrain
Buddy was ripping up stuffed animals
Paw over paw, tail over head
Making sure to rip off their eyes
Tearing out filling, making them dead.
I was buying the expensive dog toys at first.
Later discovered he would rip up second hand too.
So bought used stuffies from a resale store.
Side by side, he would eliminate two.
While shaking a sleeping bear, he started to care.
He began carrying this one around, loving it instead.
It has a recording, plays the Lay Me Down to Sleep Prayer.
Buddy now sleeps with this little bear under his head.
Categories:
rip off, dog, prayer,
Form:
Rhyme
Red roses today are on sale;
For Valentine’s Day they won’t fail
To impress all the gals
Who are more than just pals
And a hint of romance will prevail.
But the sign announced 55 bucks
For these flowers considered deluxe.
Maybe buyers don’t care
But to many folks, they’re
Just a rip-off for V-Day, which sucks.
Categories:
rip off, rose, valentines day,
Form:
Limerick
He can fix anything
no matter the year
the make, the model
but has his own way
No, just throw that
on the scrapheap
with all the others
Seriously, I just
want to work
I hate people
mostly but not always
Get a bigger hammer
depression my foot
you need a one way ticket
to Ethiopia
I'm having a smoke
it's thinking time
need to get more guns
but that's another matter
now I know how it works
only took three ciggies
Most tradies rip off their
best customers cause they can
but that's bull you don't
need it
No, just throw that
on the scrapheap
with all the others.
Categories:
rip off, courage,
Form:
Free verse
No one ever talks about it
it hurts
it throbs
uncomfortable
\No one knew what to say
especially when it was no longer all about them
but it was
Who have i been with?
who have you been with!!!?
the tears
pain
throbbing
thief of under
under where?
under there
All my friends were busy
Called mom yesterday we fought
My brother bout fell off the wagon
cause i want to move away if he moves near
and they're all blaming my ex
i know better
psychological torment
Im the ****
Im the whore
I blame myself as i should
serves me right
right?
so who wants a piece of this pie?
drug induced schitsoeffective
mood disorder
mentally ill
diseased
Lover Boy
all for you
Just give me more pills
Two friends left
I don't want to talk to the Angel whose ex stole my password to this site
My ex girlfriend whose room i lit on fire owes me 240 dollars for her drug debt
things are getting better
happy birthday rip off
merry Christmas debt
high and dry
Now Herpe New year
and i wept
again
stronger this time to not go over the reasons to live versus those i should die
and i laid in bed
with no one to hold
so young
people are cruel
I'm the joke dressed in suicide
just make sure you wash your hands
when you clean up after my mess
you might get infected
and then as the songs go sang by the artists
that sing about how my names are songs
I'll be the one responsible for killing all of my friends and myself after all
For the love of latex and lesions
practice safe sex
know your partners well
and remember life aint no merry go round
it can happen to you
it happened to me
and I've only been out of the funny farm
for three years
before that i was clean
before that was high school
and the nightmare i will always remember and equate with the word
DREAM
Categories:
rip off, confusion, health, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
The alleyways within the maze are paved with rats and mice.
Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice
from losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise,
while in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice.
A bum called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter;
with broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter,
the passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter:
“Let’s pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.”
A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.
Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice,
the painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price
and loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise.
A crazy guy cries “where am I”, a schizo titters twice,
and double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice.
The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with meth.
The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth.
And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth,
while telling tales to no avail of everlasting death,
at least imbue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath.
The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they’re kneeling down to prey,
to fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday,
to etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé
on shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil’s dossier.
Old dan, he's drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud.
A Monk begins to wash Dan’s sins, and asks “How are you, Bud?”
“I’m feeling pain and crying rain till soon there is a flood.
And no god’s there who seems to care I’m always coughing blood.”
The Monk, he turns, Dan’s words he spurns and lets the bible thud.
Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray:
“The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men’s minds astray
to rings of gold they’ll never hold in fingers made of clay.
But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.”
Continued
Categories:
rip off, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
I write my verses in seclusion and solitude,
in isolation, free from disturbances and interference, I write;
once upon a time I kept my poems secret in concealment,
privacy was required for me as I was so afraid of what people would say.
Then one day, I got the courage to share them,
I posted them online, and they became subject to piracy, theft;
plagiarism, pillage, copyright infringements, and plundering,
bootlegger raiders, marauders and thieves of words roam around cyber world.
Those who cannot write will mimic, mirror, echo,
replicate, forge and appropriate, rip off my words and your words;
a total copy cat, or just duplicate random lines, oh the sad pain,
but how does one prove these stolen words are true, bona fide, and genuine.
So, I write my verses quietly in authenticity,
I share them with the world, I send them on wings of beauty;
and should a low down, no good thief steal my words away;
there is nothing I can do to stop them, but never can they steal my soul.
_______________________________________
November 17, 2016
Poetry/Verse/ I Am The Real Thing
Copyright Protected, ID 16-850-914-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest,Privacy is Like Piracy
sponsor, Ironic Zink
Second Place
Categories:
rip off, poetry, writing,
Form:
Verse
Oh what have you done to me,
A city built in the name of Christ.
When an earthquake struck,
Destroying all my pretty clothing
And shaking the flesh off all my bones.
Leaving only my skeletal frame ,
Half submerged in sewerage raw
And liquefaction adding to my woes,
Threatening to make me completely disappear.
No one with water to spare as I began to choke
On air now so foul.
When you felt safe to come out and see my plight,
You drew lots for my last vestments of dignity,
Before inviting others in to help you pick over my bones.
You even looked the other way when the Vultures started gathering.
You filled my streets with low life's and vermin knee deep.
And patched my broken bones with cheap plaster.
Watching as those who yet stood by me grew weak,
Bled dry by insurance companies and their red tape, con artists,
And Cowboys posing as builders,
Supplied by rip-off merchants of every description,
All overseen by government official with no idea what to do,
Except find ways to spend their money unwisely.
You raised $50 million dollars to build a playground
For children without proper homes and not enough food to eat.
Another ten or so million was found to build a marble wall
In memory of of those who fell beside me as the earthquake struck.
Do you think that will give them eternal rest.
No future do I see worth having here,
Can you not just let me sleep,
So Christ can rebuild his beloved garden city,
Away from this foul swamp,
Filled with indifference and despair,
That the rest of the country has left to rot.
Categories:
rip off, abuse, betrayal, bullying, business,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue