Best Tactless Poems
The Lying Tongue
sang a song
The Flattering Tongue
played along
The Know It All Tongue
intended the composition
The Meddling Tongue
held it's position
The Harsh Tongue
kept quiet for once
The Tactless Tongue
reluctantly obliged
The Rude Tongue
got annoyed
The Loquatious Tongue
was soon overjoyed
The Discouraging Tongue
hummed on
The Self-Depreciating Tongue
became withdrawn
The Argumentative Tongue
thought it all wrong
The Boasting Tongue
thought it right on
The Hasty Tongue
felt it was contrite
The Discouraging Tongue
and all this singing
The Indiscreet Tongue's
awkward whistling
The Complaining Tongue's
plodding drone
The Cursing Tongue
let out a no-no moan
The Judgemental Tongue
liked that a lot
The Self-Absorbed Tongue
rolled it's eyes
The Retaliating Tongue
held out a hat
The Intimadating Tongue
offered a prize
The Cynical Tongue
just laughed
The Accusing Tongue
choreographed
The Gossiping Tongue
signed autographs
The Doughting Tongue
crooned the refrain
The Accusing tongue
blasted the blame
The Hasty Tongue
fanned the flames
So the Belittling Tongue
dismissed the party
The Devisive Tongue
composed the ending
And the Silent Tongue
looked on.
* All tongues borrowed from
Categories:
tactless, 10th grade, anti bullying,
Form:
Free verse
Zany insanity,
he’s a buffoon from the moon-
Quipster and hipster,
he’s a complicated pantaloon.
Prankster gangster,
tactless with madness-
Wisecracker and entertainer
is he fun, or full of sadness?
He’s humorous and caddy,
frivolous yet crabby-
Gabby and a chump,
a lark and real tacky.
Life of the party,
wears pants full of smarty-
A cracker-upper,
always late for supper.
You may wonder who I speak of,
this satirist man that could be you-
He’s a practical trickster joker,
from the city of Katmandu.
He seems to be famous,
he may be very acclaimed,
he’s notorious for being a jester,
and Robin Williams is his name!
August 9, 2017
Categories:
tactless, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Crowds and noise and people enthralled me
When I had deciduous teeth.
And a simple thought of loneliness
Engendered collywobbles in me.
How amicable people look when viewed with jejune eyes!
Blanketing all kinds under pristine
and untarnished label
Without contemplations and with profound celebrations,
Labelling the sweeter tongues 'good'
And tactless simpletons 'deride'.
Perhaps it was the age of innocence!
It afflicted my eyes with myopia
Hindering my childish wisdom for masques
As one after another, the deciduous white pearls fell
They did shake my bygone edifice of sagacity
With each new rise, my style of mastication changed
Sometimes to the left
Sometimes to the right
My food could not be chewed with stability
Sometimes the hollowness after the fallen tooth engendered agony
And in the artless custom of childhood, I believed all......
Then with time, the new convictions came
Enamels with more glint and rock-like firmness
With age, it pondered and with 'relations' it was illustrative
'That people are not always they appear!!'
'Their words are not always what they sounded!!'
But by that age, I was one of them
Deceptive in deed and sardonic in words
Perhaps it was the stage of Adulthood!!
Categories:
tactless, age, conflict, confusion, deep,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
No Anchor for Rancor
Wounded the ship of my soul,
With tattered sails,
Heels up in malevolence,
Venom puffs out the jib
In leeward grudges of tactless spite
On a pointless reach
Heading up into retaliation.
Heart hardened sends out a deep tap root,
Like a dagger board,
For my blustering hubris
To drop an anchor and moor animosity
In a portage of perpetual whirlwinds
With undertows of enmity
Crashing about in irons of spite.
Yet steady winds rise up
And I must come about
Heading into prevailing winds
Then journey through hubris doldrums,
Sails filled fresh with newborn winds,
Orphaning rancor - breathing in forgiveness -
Sailing beneath full sails of resurrection
Categories:
tactless, ocean, wind,
Form:
Free verse
Take a breath just pretend to light a cigarette
Mind your every thought so that you'll not regret
Avoid a tactless comment that might go south
Remember ~ a fly does not enter a closed mouth
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on August 11, 2019 for contest ROMANI PROVERB sponsored by JULIA WARD
Categories:
tactless, introspection, rude, spoken word,
Form:
Rhyme
My husband is in many ways the opposite of me.
Were he to make a left turn along a route, I’d go right inevitably.
Astrologically, he’s emotional (double water) but I’m a stable triple earth.
He rarely laughs, not even at a comic’s show, while I enjoy mirth.
As time went on, I realized he really was a nut.
Had he been a shoe, he’d be a heavy boot, always kicking butt.
Impatient, tactless, rude and often feeling out of joint,
he handcuffed himself to an official’s chair just to make a point.
A self-made gung-ho contractor within years he became.
But being accident prone, himself he often would maim.
Jack-hammered his own foot, fell two stories off a roof,
nearly removed his thumb with a saw (to give you a little proof).
He yelled a lot, got scammed, got stabbed, and had a nervous breakdown,
but he’s not the type of man to easily go down.
He learned to recognize the damage done to himself and his brother
from being raised and controlled by a narcissistic mother.
Once he got on pills for anxiety and depression,
the second half of our married years saw great lessening of aggression.
He worked a bit as a bounty hunter when building got too slow
and drove trucks long-distance too. Over half the states he’d go.
He aggravates me even now, but he’s much more mellow.
He’s loyal and never could be accused by someone as acting yellow.
Though physically afflicted, we’re both at ease with one another today.
And if he were a shoe, he’d be an old worn slipper - tough boot tucked away.
Categories:
tactless, husband,
Form:
Couplet
You may call me harsh or even wicked
But I am more than it because I am crooked.
I may look self indulgent or resentful,
But now I am transformed into someone more powerful.
Fearless! I call me,
Fearless I say
I am not afraid of anything,
No more aloofness,no more hearts to slay.
You may call me forceful and obstinate.
But I am someone more passionate.
Clinging or touchy is not in my performance,
Neither I am superficial or tactless
But I am the grudging pirrahna!
Yes! I am contrary and intractable,
Perversity is my nature and you may call me unpredictable.
I don't like flattery neither do I shallowness.
Being inconsistent and tense only leads you to loneliness!
Fearless! I call me,
Fearless! I say.
I adore spontaneity and daredevils are my prey!
Dynamic and shrwed is my nature.
If you don't like me I will not butcher.
Just speak your heart and live life in grandeur,
Because there are speculative ventures opening their vivacious door.
Categories:
tactless, absence, anti bullying, bullying,
Form:
Rhyme
William the First was our last king to come uninvited
though invincible armadas have sometimes been sighted.
Foreign kings were imported in cases of doubt.
Native kings had the habit of getting thrown out.
In the War of the Roses none tipped the scales
till the fray was joined by young Richmond from Wales.
A house like the Tudors for to bring to an end
on virgin queens you may safely depend.
Then came the Stuarts, who in Scotland had root,
but being too tactless, they were given the boot.
Though of Orange the house was not without fame,
some Irishmen spit when they hear Billy’s name.
George the First from Hanover as in matters English ill versed;
for affairs of state a state of affairs by no means the worst.
George the Third, however, spoke English quite well,
so Yanks up in arms told the Liberty Bell.
Thus Frenchmen and Dutchmen, Germans and Danes
have made their subjects rack their poor brains.
But the history of monarchs whose accents were poor
holds even today many lessons in store.
At the hustings all parties will promise us aught,
but after elections some memories are short.
“A kink is a man, no less and no more,”
said a very wise king as he sat on the shore.
“Let each of you here, thane or serf, be astute.
Don’t expect me to do what I plainly canute.
Categories:
tactless, england,
Form:
Couplet
perfectionism: the fragrance.
be an ideal vial
of toilet water.
discover little dainties
in pock-marked
hand-held
facades.
purge your persona
with the devil’s
details.
flippancy: the fashion.
be a toothpick-skewered
single-serving
euphemism.
be sampled
and rimmed about on gossip’s lips.
paw
for the choicest brown
velvet
neck-caressing
reassurance.
double-standard: the sexiness.
be a pretty ogre
pitchfork hordes
fashioned
at a wink.
tactless
hunch-back
spasms in each spoon
of toil.
carve wide moats
of saccharine
bitterness.
Categories:
tactless, angst, satire, social
Form:
Free verse
A small study lamb,
a tea cup with sharpened lead pencils
(number two),
polished wooden panels:
walls dressed in masks
(African vodun mugs).
An old stone fireplace with
portrait of a colored girl
dancing above stained hardwood mantel.
Mimi, with a mind as dull as the room,
hung her thoughts out for scrutiny.
Shadows waltz in the faint glow,
and smell send eyes searching
and minds speculating
about the smudges on worn carpet.
From the door,
dark antique table stood smug,
on lion’s paws, in a corner to the left.
Grandfather clock with pendulum,
a tongue that utters time.
A gem tells of certainty,
and minds were compelled and led captives,
but Mimi and her tactless wit
could never fathom why gwampa run.
Grandfather ran when liberty summoned,
and this room expresses a life
that is far too deep for her to clutch.
Categories:
tactless, imagination
Form:
Free verse
The nation is very rich indeed
But,
Wounded out of loss direction;
Wounded out of lack of ambition,
Weeping out of lack of impulse;
Wounded out of lack of imagination,
Ingeniously exhumed out of the citadel of corruption;
While the funereal ultimately boils down to collateral.
In the funky train,
All the hoo-ha-noisy end in fisticuff;
And the crumpled greenback hand-out cough,
The law has nothing to handcuff,
Kindred turned puppets loss of self-worth in defacto state
of war,
Faced with hemorrhaging despondency;
And splitting migraine disillusionment,
Miseenscene always greeted with fire and blood,
With fight and struggle half dead;
To trip in goats, straw and timber carrier,
Inevitable suicide spoof of teeming commuters,
And a caterwauling exodus end in thousands of legs under
the sea,
Carnival of Sharks tongue-smacked and praise-devour the
abundant feast;
While the aura of authority has little or nothing fish,
Often, sudden delight death cry of assailed victims,
Owa! Owa! Owa! {Alight}
A cry for shanty shambles bus stop,
As if deaf, the tyrant conductor
Lashes out in blinding curse and abuse;
Pressing and shoving for umpteenth fares,
Owa! Owa! Owa!
A plead for just a measure of tonic air,
Hard kerchief to wipe off addicted
Face of invincible gossamer,
Diabolical gene galloping in strides;
As compassion flees from rigours of heart of stone,
If swearing non-syllabic stunned altercating joust;
Could result in re-ordering of the lost world,
Plotless plastic lives of mean children of absentee Mamas
and Papas,
Would gauche braggadocio even king to brutal submission;
O! wretched loud louts touts,
Very loud louts touts foaming with tactless forming;
A riposte, may your road be rough,
A stamp on every man destiny.
Categories:
tactless, urbanloss, cry, loss,
Form:
Free verse
SHOCKING!!!!!!!! WHAT? THAT?
Bad taste?
They know not what is at stake
They do as they please
Then later beg for forgiveness
A right sin
And a dismal business
Nothing is shocking anymore
To thump each other
They go to the extremes of bad taste
The exotic of the past
Is now the mundane of today
To push the boundaries of rascality
Is the new wanton game
Played by trouble makers galore
To shock is to liven up
What a rebellious few
Think is dreary and staid
But is the result of good taste?
Actions we take now do tell
A story to our future
What of our legacy?
Will our avant-garde seem
Nothing but a real shame?
Critics slam with hyperbolic feelings
Prolonging a naturally temporary phase
The rebellion against the norm
Is but a turbulent teenage phase
Desperation for fame
Pushes the tactless
To seek increasingly embarrassing ways
To force our senses to
Confront what is best left private
Books
Art
The stage
All are infiltrated by the listless crew
Who seem hell-bent on defacing decency
Nudity
Crassness
Debauchery
Bad talent
No longer have critics powerful enough to
Cauterize such abject mood swings
Of artiste who feel no shame
Extending the boundaries
Of moral inhibition is not new
Those that claim to be even more shocking
Know not the history of petty rebellion
They are just another transient few
Decency has lost its unsung heroes
Who slash canvasses
And cover up the detritus of artistic license
Those who oppose any act
That does make us think
Examine or
Analyse our existence in new ways
Are deemed too sensitive for modern life
They are accused of bleaching creativity
To be a rogue is best
To impose any limits seems
To rascals as wilful distress but
Trendsetters don’t often know best
Categories:
tactless, allegory,
Form:
Imagism
Loss
Heartless
Tactless
Senseless
Loveless
Lonely is the Heartless, Tactless mind.
Knowing only Senseless, Loveless time.
1/26/18
Your Turn For A Tyburn
Sponsored by: charles messina
Categories:
tactless, loss,
Form:
Tyburn
Another blazing steel
That carve wounds which don’t fully heal
Besides those of Big Brother Rape
Whose injurious clutch very few escape.
A pointing finger by forensic evidence maintained
About your grips of her blouse stained
And infuriating caresses of a waist
You were scheming to morally waste;
Playable, her taped shut-doors against your visits
And “Buzz offs” to your offered Hellos and biscuits…
Indeed, your tactless remarks of obscenity
Verging on intrigues against her chastity
In court, to you read out by a voice of steel
To your disbelieving ears all but real;
All the brooding minds around you also wrestling with the matter
While you hope or wish their suspicion won’t get fatter!
It’s a new impulse to often adjust one’s lens
And with expectoration break a silence,
Not skipped, prompt remembrances of your itching jaw
To scratch it in a manner you could never the Law.
Categories:
tactless, abuse, anti bullying, desire,
Form:
Rhyme
I have known this girl for quite long.
Been friends for years tied with strong thong.
Had hundreds of pictures with cool bonds.
Share deep stories like a ionic bond.
No dull moments when I’m with her.
She’s real friend hiding with no fur.
Tells things if it’s not getting on her way
Tactless but sweet is all I could say.
Generous and kind to anybody,
That’s why she is mostly liked by everybody.
Hang out at night with heavy cold drinks,
Gives me advice like those serious shrinks.
Lucky to be her best friend!
We all make things terribly good trend.
Hope that we have more years to come…
Share best moments of us which will sooner to come.
Categories:
tactless, for her,
Form:
Narrative