Best Stank Poems
I once knew an old bloke called Peter
Whose body could smell so much sweeter
He stank of stale wee
B O and coffee
T’was worse when he sat by the heater!
His daughter whose name is Anita
Tried hard to help Peter smell sweeter
He bathes twice a day
She gave him some spray
From Peter there is no foul fetor!
04~09~17
Categories:
stank, body, humorous, senses,
Form:
Limerick
Mae West
Large chest.
Cruise ship
Sea trip.
Blue meth
Spells death.
Clap more
Encore.
Sun burn
Ne'er learn.
Birds fly
Sky high.
Palm trees
Blue seas.
Drunk tank
It stank.
Red light
Sit tight.
Wear pink
Boys wink.
Bright bling
Gold ring.
She bakes
Nice cakes.
Sea shore
Waves roar.
Sex toy
Lewd joy.
First bike
Red trike.
Cheap meal
Good deal.
Written 29th. September 2020.
Categories:
stank, humor,
Form:
Footle
I still haven't found my Miss Right;
the girl with the cat was a fright:
she farted all day
and stank of decay,
then played with her pussy all night...
for the Baggage contest
Categories:
stank, girlfriend,
Form:
Limerick
last night i had the strangest dream
i dreamt i was all manky
i had greasy hair and smelly feet
and bogies in my hanky
my ass was brown and pooey
my ears full of yellow stuff
my belly button stank cus
of all the fuzzy fluff
my eyes were black like pandas
my pants were brown and fishy
my armpits smelled like rotten eggs
and my farts were wet and squishy
i dreamed you called unexpectedly
you surprised me at the door
you looked aghast and took one whiff
and fainted on the floor
Categories:
stank, funny, giggle, humor, humorous,
Form:
Light Verse
Wie waak oor ons gans die wakkernag?
Vind sondes.lank vergete
n aanklag eggo in die gewete
Dalk net stank demone
Wat slaaploos toi-toi in talle drome
Watter wekker skrik sy meester kaal
Wyl hy rondtol.in n lakenhel?
Skape, pennies en sy woorde tel
Of plak gebede saam met drome vas
Teen blank plafonne en die linnekas?
En ook skimme wat eens mense was
n vingerskrif op die klagstaat straf
Ander sluimer niksbeduidend
Wereld werk nog steeds misleidend
Introspeksie hou het geen verband
Onwelkom het net ingekom
Soos infeksie in n agtertand
Prokureur teem onbeholpe
'k kort n advokaat
n leuenverklikker wat moet wèèt waarvan hy praat
Opgetof en opgetoga en n omkoopmagistraat
Sinies en insomnies
naghof ronddool in n doodloopstraat
Wie sake uitgooi maar dan skelm uitstel
Weereens more ons beroof van geld en slaap
Categories:
stank, introspection, irony,
Form:
Free verse
She stood there and slooshed on the grass at her feet
She’d have to move forward before she dared eat
She walked a few paces to discover that
Some other cow had left a foul splat
Wherever she looked there was piddle or poo
And that was the moment she knew what to do
She looked at the grass which was drying and brown
She might well have cringed but a cow cannot frown
She went to the river to drink some clean water
Across it, the farmer, his wife and his daughter
Live in a house with a lush green lawn
The greenest she’d seen since the day she was born
But why should she settle for this frazzled field
When over the river, a bounteous yield
Well she had to go where she had to go
And then in the water was hit by the flow
She struggled against it, her progress was slow
But she battled on to where green grass does grow
Why should the farmer keep it to himself
When cows were the subject of all of his wealth
The river was raging, the current was strong
She aimed for the lawn so she didn't go wrong
And finally clambered the opposite side
Astounded she’d managed a river so wide
She pushed herself out and up onto the bank
And looked back across to where the grass stank
She’ll savour this green grass for all it is worth
She took her first mouthful...
Yuk...
Astroturf!
Categories:
stank, animal, metaphor,
Form:
Rhyme
Friday morning
I hopped out of the shower,
popped over to the lavatory counter,
flopped my most profound sexual characteristic
down and onto a misplaced curling iron,
burning the tender center of my-very-being.
Thankfully
Ms. Careless had left a glass of iced coke,
by her torturing implement.
I quickly and fully submerged my pain,
into the cooled, amber liquid.
Friday evening
I attended my first and last meeting
of the Brazoria County Poetry league.
I arrived at the BCPL president’s home
by invitation, to hear their guest speaker,
a young, professor of literature,
from Rice University.
He spoke at great length about metaphors.
What a metaphor was.
How poets used metaphors
to improve imagery in poetry.
He gave examples of metaphors,
and more examples,
explaining each one in detail.
It was raining damn metaphors.
I would have lapsed into a metaphoric coma,
if I had not discovered my bourbon glass
to be much too small, requiring me to rise,
and refill it several times.
When Dr. Metaphor finely finished I
strolled over to where he was smiling,
and announced that he was
full of rhetorical trope,
and didn’t know anything about real poetry,
and he had stepped on a metonymy
and it stank the room up.
And we poets from the sticks
didn’t need a hot-shot from Houston
telling us how to write poetry.
and the president of the BCPL
grabbed my arm,
and snatched my glass from my hand,
and it still had boozes in it.
And he promenaded me to the door,
and assured me that I was talent-less,
and that drinking myself to death
would be my one and only contribution to poetry.
He pushed me out of his home,
onto his front steps,
slammed the door in my face,
after suggesting
I never attend another meeting of the BCPL.
For a moment, I was stunned,
then bowing to his authority
I hurled on his “Welcome” mat.
And Friday morning
as I stood in the bathroom
cradling my tormented body element
with both hands,
the Queen of the Bastille entered,
demanded to know -What my problem was?
I informed her I had no problem,
and suggested she drink her damn coke…
before the ice melted.
Categories:
stank, funny, me, metaphor, me,
Form:
Free verse
While poking around in an old tree trunk
I came nose to nose with a stinky skunk
He suddenly raised his tail
Twas' such a horrible smell
For my wife said that I stink, stank, and stunk
Categories:
stank, funny
Form:
Limerick
*** Black Snow Storm ***
I’m blacker and madder and more than Hell I be bringin’ ya,
I’m a ****ed up assailant,
Mental-case mercenary hell bent,
Simultaneous and concurrent, I’m yo danger and yo savior.
But I’m real, and tangible, and do things unimaginable.
On the inside and ominous, searing truth burns my existence,
In the cold empty blanks of loathing inspired shadows,
Darkness manifests completely, as only I the one who knows.
Buried in denial, a Black Snow Storm of persistence.
Mad viral runaway,
Reaper-tagged, body bagged,
Peacefully performed, daily is as dooms a day.
Sicker than a mange’d up, street livin’ dog,
Fraudulent, Arrogant, Intelligent, and robbed.
Hustled by humanity, dignity straight-up jacked,
It’s parted-out and shipped out and neva comin’ back.
Crazy muthu****in razor bladed Snowflake,
Cold steeled touched be tight, and straighter-edged unique.
I’m in yo face, and in yo space,
An breathing stank leathelality,
Cuz crazy is as crazy does and I’m yo new reality.
I’m blacker than a ninja,
Trackin’ like a laza,
Murder-edged, star throwin’,
Life takin’ playa.
Fueled by the mental,
Conflicted, festering failure,
The whip-saw cracked, manic sized, consequential behavior,
The ease of mind is nowhere found, the truth be nothin’ gentle.
Snowflake driven, horrifying maelstrom,
Anarchist, Nihilist, devastating and then some.
Black Snowstorm blinded ya, and buried everything you know,
Snowflaka’ made it happen,
An unrelenting blizzard, of Black as coal Snow.
*** By djDiZZasteRR (AKA Brian Bauer) ***
Categories:
stank, rap,
Form:
Lyric
Jealousy is like a disease that takes over your mind,
In your thoughts it's as if they've committed a crime.
Jealousy is a strong emotion,
Sometimes leaving you feeling broken.
It's because of someone's success or riches,
That cause you to act like a *****.
Some times it's from insecurities you have from your past,
Jealousy will make you do compare and contrast.
You feel like a ticking bomb about to explode,
Blood boiling in your veins, you can see it in your face because it shows.
Maybe someone is skinnier than you,
Jealously can make you do things you never intended to do.
Maybe someone has a nicer body than you,
That causes you to act brand new.
Your boyfriend might be looking at another girl,
You start acting like it's the end of the world.
Someone might have the car that you want,
You act stank then play it off acting all nonchalant.
Jealousy might be from fears,
Blowing things out of proportion making things become more severe.
Jealousy can make you become possessive,
At times makes you act aggressive.
Jealousy is like a demon trapped inside,
It can upset you and make you cry.
Jealousy can lead to trust issues,
Make you think your relationship is artificial.
Jealousy from your friend having a better man,
Realizing your life is some what less than.
Jealousy causes unhappiness,
Creating this unexplained darkness.
Jealousy makes you feel discontent,
At times needing someone to talk to so you can vent.
Being smart causes jealousy,
Weighing on your mind heavily.
Jealousy is a sudden rage,
It happens to people of any age.
Jealousy causes resentment,
Quick to pass judgement.
Jealousy is like your harboring a monster,
People assuming that you're some kind of imposter.
Jealousy can be controlled with trust,
All you need is real true love.
January 17, 2014
~The One and Only~
Categories:
stank, jealousy,
Form:
Sonnet
Successive letters of the alphabet per line using A through S
Ann was born at a time when females lacked rights.
Both parents warned, her purity must be unphased.
Chastity, shame and sin were lectured day and night,
dictating a future marriage in accord with social mores.
Each day, since a teen, she prayed love to be as hoped.
Fraught, these feelings dimmed in society’s grim scope.
Girly and gangly at sixteen, her parents did chance
Hank, a farmer, as Ann’s best offered circumstance.
Ignorant all, there was not one thought of romance,
just opportunity to make Ann a legal, proper wife.
Knots grew in Ann’s heart and her fears were rife,
life's labels demanded she be Hank’s property for life.
Married life forced Ann to labor on Hank’s farm -
nasty blistered hands to atone for his lazy harm.
Oblivion was often sought by Hank through drinking,
pushing Ann to slave or see her survival sinking.
Quietly, she daily tended all crops and chores.
Unfit drunk, she often tripped him for floor decor.
Repulsed by his stank fueled breath and awful snorts,
She viewed murderous plots in her brain for sport.
Categories:
stank, culture, discrimination, gender, marriage,
Form:
Rhyme
There was once a woman
who lived on Sheffield's London road
with greasy unwashed hair
black crooked teeth
and huge wart on the end of her nose.
Her eyes were wild and staring
she had rickets and fleas
had hairy legs and knobbly knees
She stank like a million skunks
she hadn't a bath for 12 years and a month.
Her name is Vera Cooper
She could drink any man under the table
and swore like a trooper.
She once won a beauty contest
when she fell into a ugly bugs nest
she had a tattoo of a sewer rat on one breast.
People would run away
whenever she was in town
but the flies would follow her around.
But you know what?
She had a great personality
was so kind and caring
and gave lots to charity.
We fell in love and raised a family
we're very happy together
and so in love
and go together
like a hand in a glove
She's my angel.
''Well they do say it's personality that counts don't they?.''
Peter Dome.copyright.2014.
Categories:
stank, funny, funny love, giggle,
Form:
Free verse
Susie stepped in a pile of dog pooh
It was caked on the sole of her shoe
Her shoes how they stank
The smell was so rank
To remove it what should Susie do?
Susie wiped mucky shoes on the mat
The mat on which her pussycat sat
Now it’s not on her shoes
But the cats got the blues
This poop issue we need to combat
Consider folks who are in a wheelchair
They wheel round but some dog owners don’t care -
Imagine just how it feels
Dog poop all over the wheels
At poopy hands they must just sit and stare
03~12~17
Categories:
stank, anger, dog, environment, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
The fire alarm went off at the projects,
but when they got their, no one spoke,
and there was the absence of fire and smoke,
it was just going to be a prank,
and that’s when a crime scene developed
in a project house basement, a dank,
the odor was so bad, it just stank,
it was an unfurnished place,
where an elderly black man
went missing without a trace,
and after completely opening up the basement door,
they found that missing man stretched across the floor,
he was in full rigor, and what’s more,
he was covered by a long sheet
of plastic painter’s tarp,
skin cooked in its own oil and heat,
shoe laces tied to his hands and feet,
and there death and drama would meet,
four homicide detectives and two firemen
stood over the body,
a dim basement with low light,
doing its best to fight off the night,
and they waited awhile,
it was like a nativity scene, Brooklyn style,
not in a manger,
but in a two story brick pile.
Categories:
stank, death, depression, people, missing,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
I Am (Do Not)
I am an ordinary man with the same life span but shortened by habits....
I am a person who's second language is cursing...every second to third word dispersing
f words...
s words....
c words to b words
and it gets worse....as I curse I wonder why....am I that disgusting guy on the train
or bus that people look at with the stank eye in disgust....
I am the black sheep at the family party that don't speak back
'cause I lack what I was before or hardly....I am walked on
spit on
dissed on by that one and this one...
the unwanted
the used
the non excused
the mentally abused that use to get me to do what I didn't want to....
I am....life....do not mislead me
do not mistreat me...
do not walk on me
do not tread on me...
dis-own me...
leave me lonely....I am dead....
do not cry...
do not sigh or shy away from our memory....
do not miss me....
do not kiss me when I lay in my coffin cause many times too often kisses meant nothing....I am nothing...
I am an ordinary man with the same life span but shortened by habits...I am stress...a mess....useless....not important...never was...never would be....
but...you know what..I am me....
Ode to a homeless man...
Though there are no shoes on my feet and my filthy clothes are not pressed neat....
my arms are tucked underneath my head...i am sleeping still...
almost feeling dead...no fear of losing anything...just leave me here with my beer...cause I am....what you see that I am...The homeless man
By: Peter T. DeSpirito
Categories:
stank, poetry, spoken word,
Form:
Free verse