Best Talentless Poems


Write Your Own

The talentless, envious, plagiarist’s dream
Was to find someone’s ‘Works’ on a shelf or a beam
In a Pub, in a folder, alone and ignored
As the author lay slumped and as drunk as a lord

Stealthily taking those coveted sheets
He rushes off home via dimly lit streets
When his doors were all locked and the curtains drawn tight
He copied his windfall well into the night

First thing next day, not long after he’d phoned
He went to his agent with the stuff that he’d cloned
Dreaming of royalties and acclaim by his peers
But for him it was destined to end up in tears

There’s some gentlemen waiting for him in the hall
(His agent had asked two policemen to call)
“These poems aren’t yours, they’ve already been done
By that drunk in the pub, who is also my Son!”

So, if you aspire to a literary style
You should write your own poems or books but meanwhile
Twixt penning a story, blank verse or a rhyme
Keep your hands off my stuff or be Shamed for your Crime!

Had It Up To Here

I've had it up to here with rappers saying they have more bars than a prison
I'm sick of celebrities saying they're a bigger star than anything in the solar system
I'm tired of rappers saying their car is upset because the roof is missing
I no longer want to hear these punchlines that are average at best
That have Been overused, are there any original writers left?
I'm tired of people who use clickbait for views
I'm sick and tired of seeing a new headline of "Kim Kardashian has new Nudes"
Let me know when she wears clothes and it'll be a bigger shock 
Every time a Kardashian posts a half naked Picture, take a liquor shot
And you'll be drunk and out of your mind before the hour
I'm sick of celebrities who brag about popping pills and taking white powder
Well done, you take drugs and are destroying your life, aren't you a genius?
I'm tired of the news posting stories at their own convenience
Rihanna's outfit is a bigger headline than what's happening in Palestine
I don't care about Beyonce and Jay-Z or any celebrity and their Valentine
Unless it's me dating Ariana Grande, tell her I'll love her forever
I went off topic to mention my dream girl for good measure
I'm tired of girls saying "I don't know" when you ask them where they want to eat
So you suggest places, then they say "not there" woman, choose now before I leave
I'm sick and tired of writers rhyming you with true aswell as Heart with  apart 
I listen to everything everyone says, take a few gems, the rest I disregard
I've had it up to here with new rappers calling themselves the New Tupac
I'm sick of the news and media who post stories but remove facts
Because they don't give a damn about the tragedy as long as they get paid
I'm tired of talentless people getting famous from leaking their sex tape
I'm tired of people saying they could care less when they mean they couldn't
I'm tired of couples breaking up and getting back together the next day
I'm done I've got nothing more to share
I'm just venting because I've had it up to here
© Alex Duffy  Create an image from this poem.

How To Align a Fine Line

HOW   TO   ALIGN   A    FINE    LINE  


Who can resist the pull of such a competition
Where  the rules are so clear,
But the topic is like sex in the 60s revolution: 
Filled with pitfalls but (yes, it was) -  freer  

          Similar to  the Argentine gaucho named Bruno 
          Who said well there’s one thing I do know
          - Slang is fine, 
          Intentional misspellings are divine,
          But a llama is numero uno. 

And whose  “who’s”   is in question?  Not mine!
Hey,  they’re writing “their” over there
When it oughta be “they’re”.. . . Ok, Fine!
The effect of all this is to affect my degree of care 
(And to effect a change in all poets, I hope).
Since mine is not a KNOCK-OUT of a poem 
And I am certainly no dope
Nor am I a gnome from Nome or even Chomsky Noam
I hesitate to use the non-existent 
Cringer word “irregardless” regardless 
Of the consequences  extant,
Or in future years countless.

……………………………………… 

                                                                                                     
Written by a nameless, talentless poet
For Nancy  Jones’s  Contest   “Fine Line”


Wasted Talent

Talent can no more be bought

Than can be taught

As talent is a force of nature

Wasted on the talentless

Wanted: Slinger of Mirrors

Wanted: Slinger of Mirrors,

Tessellating lungs of fulcrum
Wading into scorn’s yellow Spring pond
We are flying to the airway Of. I hunger for our old hunger. 
We dealt our Hand and every Star
Only one pond my reflection’s gunning donned
To see bullets’ sound is bedlam

Every pothole in my ear. Another night—come away from there. 
That mixture will do no harm, I
Jolting flies.
Happiness arcades.
But if midnight settles down about my knees, about chest-high, 
you must be this high to ride
Molting lies.
Effortless charades.
I never thought you would want me to shoot you again. Close your eyes.
    Open your mind. Open
something degrading. something small something ready. Opening your eyes, y’know what I call thought? Deadly. Transmuting the world: Deadly. 
Do you believe it will change a thing? Can’t.


And you know. The worst essence of mankind opens; jumps out of the garden. 
Make a garden wave goodbye, 
and wonder if you will ever see that hand, handing over blood 
driven mad, stop
at a gas station and whistle to the ancients. Play a song that fulfills 
every heart. Play me yours, 
Talentless bouquets.
Every try.
My voice is a mirror I am Satan in the morning in the mirror cannot free what I wish not to be 
Poisonous parades.
Speak until wine.
Every bullet hole through Vegas in my migraine headache vice grip orchestral jacket unsewn

sewn. As though the knitting of cruelty into facets of time were designed 
in hopes that you and I
would not be overflowing with...oh, it evades me, I looked in the mirror 
I should have looked
The bullet tore; bled laughter; silver; more
we dealt with spires of Fear. We built here. Seeking to speak. 
Left and Right became unwound beneath the planet's rotation. 
At the airway Of, my old wound sings the blues of the gun shooting 
  
Wanted: Slinger of Mirrors

Old and New

The typewritter the empty page.
Time has forgotten you.
As we worship the talentless  in a foreign age.

Cheap ****  and a old lush.
Poddle skirts and a highschool crush.

Wornout jeans and a no longer spoke about bands patch.
Sneaking out the window .
Unlocking that old gates latch.

Forbidden lovers and young hearts loving thta first feeling
so very true.
The stars are a midnight canvas.
Rain and beauty reflect the same to old and new.

Coins in a wishing well thrown by a lost 
young teenage girl.
Sweet agony and diary pages.
Red lipstick andher hairs natrule curl.

the scent of innocence  and regret fill's the air.
Bitter souls loath the foolish
young  who reach for a place where only dreamers dare.

Like a mustang down a empty backroad through this life we 
blew.
So many feelings it leaves you numb.
As the guard must change from old to new.


Traitors

I'm a portrait of misplaced trust and forced hatred 
after false friendships escaped true tracing 
through good faith and naive youthful grace
believing no way would close mates be two faced 
but hey when you struggle colours change 
in failure they tailor a taste to upstage and maintain  
your pain so you remain where life shames 
showing true pain overwhelming your brain 
and mental state while they display window pane
glee happily raising their own social status to places  
their own game couldn't claim without you drained 
driven insane by the fight you fight in vain 
destined to lose and lose again just the same 
until you're beaten and their higher up the chain 
put the blame on you for falling a way unexplained 
as if destined as your fate reflecting your traits 
offering a true indication of your place 
as a waste of space in place below where they pace  
but facades are fake and only ultra lightweights make 
toothless toothpaste for tooth ache too fake  
a desperate way but hey I rise up out of the flames 
success is my aim fuelled by their game to upstage their lame 
weak strain of blood in their veins stained shameless 
tactics of the talentless and truly brainless 
who I trusted never thinking the unthinkable, traitors
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.

Subliminal Singularity

Drama invoked karma strangulating serenity. Singularity of unsurprised reason, such a wasted manufacturer to tinker and tether the nature of our society. In your world of opulent polished weaponry and wheel spinning rubber, you exchange the price of moral greed with perishing hunger souls. Controversy tears the false accusations of loyal ring holders. In a love incarnate by steel cut diamonds. Seductive smiles reeling your heart pouring emotions to beg.
Fraudulent capricious deities, you know not the meaning of love. Your fad invoked pleasure induced from this syndrome. Talentless loser of loss are the ill fainted manners of you and I. There is a meaning behind all of these words. Can minds decipher the subliminal coding. Or are such minds to incompetent to comprehend. Your eyes hold all the secrets. You handed me the key, to unlock your casing of personal beauty. Locks altered the façade of who once was. 
In a dimmer light I can almost see her breath fog glass. 
Unto the dark and into light,
Unto the dark and into light
We shall forebode our passions and dreams. 
-Mitch

Politics

Politics; is the pursuit of power by the talentless,
To the detriment of the dispossessed majority,
By pandering to the greed of the controlling minority.
© Bade Khunt  Create an image from this poem.

Controversial/Haphaestus

Scorned and scorched by the flames of the sun
Burnt by hell’s fire, her reign’s begun
I tremble with fear of the chosen one
Ballsy, cocky, arrogance well hung
This talentless slander seems to be fun
(k)No(W) judgment or guilt, excuse the pun
But if the shoe fits, wear it and run
While tucking tail, think temple and gun
and Russian roulette or combustion
Stick a fork in yourself, you’re overdone

Detached

USELESS RECIPROCITY 
POISONOUS INSECURITY 
¿ 
YOU KILL ME 
DAY IN AND OUT 

AND BLAME ME 
FILL MY HEAD WITH DOUBTS 
¿ 
SUCUBUS LOVER 
I SEE THE TRUTH 
¿ 
LEAVE ME ALONE 
PSYCHIC VAMPIRE 
YOUR PLAYING ME NO MORE 
¿ 
ALL HOLLOW TO DISCOVER 
WHATS MINE CANNOT BE YOURS 
LEECH OF TRUE PASSION 
¿ 
LEECH'S YOU ARE 
A TALENTLESS WHORE. 
¿ 
LEAVE ME ALONE 
PHYCHIC VAMPIRE 
YOUR PLAYING ME NO MORE. 


~END~

Explanation: 

Salute to thy Sucubus

Yanny Or Laurel

You care about the Kardashian's and what celebrities are dating on Valentines
I care about Right and Hoping for the people of Palestine 
I'm seeing people argue over what name they hear on a recording
It doesn't matter if you hear Laurel or Yanny because it's really not important 

I don't know how to start this verse
Seeing the state the world is in, my heart is hurt
I'm seeing more heartbreaking things as each day goes by
People seem to focus on so many unimportant things and I don't know why

The Internet is one of the worst things to happen to this generation 
Talentless people getting famous for being stupid, what happened to education? 
Social media has turned most people into selfish souls
We no longer care for real life friends or love, acting like our own destiny isn't in our control 

Someone tell me why Meek Mill got jailed for riding a dirt bike
But an old white man got house arrest for raping a 5 Year old, tell me how that crime wasn't worth life? 
He's still free to attack more kids when he should have his genitals cut off
I'm seeing all of this on the news and you wonder why I'm shut off

Why would I believe in a system so broken? 
I'm English so I shouldn't care about America is what they'll say
Am I wrong for believing in right and showing emotion? 
The heart and Love I have, I refuse to let them take away

Tell me How can you walk past someone in need and not feel a thing? 
How can you walk past an angel who's broken and not try to heal their wings? 
But your on your knees praying to God when you're in need
But when everything is going right, you and God don't even speak

I'm not even religious, But I'm sick of living in a world of selfish hypocrites
I know they'll hate me for saying a lot of this 
I'm focused on making it through today and anxious about what tomorrow will bring
While most of the world is focused with arguing about Yanny or Laurel and important things

I don't care about the Kardashian's or what couples have broke up before Valentines
I don't care about Jersey Shore, I believe in hoping for the people of Palestine 
I don't care about arguing over a recording
The whole Laurel and Yanny debate really isn't important
© Alex Duffy  Create an image from this poem.

Kirky

were you lucky enough to catch
this no-thumbed, homophobic hatemonger,
who graced televisions for a split second years ago,
blathering on piers morgan last night?
did ya get to see him state for the record
just how bigoted one idiot can be?
revealing to us all exactly where he 
(and still so many others like him)
cracked like a goddamned egg
he showed his true colors
so that the rest of us can leave the likes of him
far far behind &
as state after state now legalizes gay marriage like it was going out of style,
talentless kirky gonna be hoping to his “god” that one of his 6 children
(unfortunate enough to be spawned by him)
are not in fact homosexual themselves,
because oh how his little curly head would just explode &
pop right off,
like a dandelion snapping,
if such “sinning” was to occur &
hit home.
 
ah, kirky,
who still represents so many backward & ruthless people
who think that they are allowed to deny others the rights to do
any ****ing thing that they can already do themselves---
ah mr. cameron,
who while running round holding up his picture of a “crocoduck”
insisted that such a thing would have to exist for Darwin to have been right
(singing nah-nee-nah-nee-nah-nah the whole way home) &
at this point in his life he can’t seem to find anything more “destructive to civilization” 
in his cute little “celebrity”-gone-christian-maniac world
than homosexuals that seem to be outside his doors with torches & hands craving his 
little ones,
in hopes that they will some day become demonic &
irreverent.

all one can say is that he’s gonna be going through a few more
growing pains
as the empire legalizes what he believes to be pure destructive “sin” &
that is a beautiful thing.

84 Degrees and Sunny

Sunglasses shield my eyes so I don’t have to look directly at the sun
Which is the most beautiful thing
All I want to see is beauty but I put a barrier in between 
My room shields my body from the sun
It gives you cancer anyway
But when I am inside, it feels smaller and hotter than ever
And I feel more confused and scared than ever
Why do I feel this when all I should feel is excitement and gratefulness?
I should be out in the sun
Yet here I am
Again
Feeling talentless, feeling pathetic, feeling sick
What makes me happy? I don’t know
All I know is I want to feel the way I used to about people
I want to feel love and excitement for them
I want to get butterflies and look at someone like they are unobtainable but I haven’t for years
I want things to just fall into place and make sense
They seem to for everyone else
In my mind happiness looks like me dancing around a giant open room with a reggae band playing
I’d just spin around in circles with my friends
and no one else is there and no one else is watching me or judging me
I don't even dance 
I guess that’s why people live inside their own head.

Correspondences

5/2/16


Negative or Positive
Pessimist or optimist
Solo or cooperative
Experts or novices
Differences or correspondences
Ineptitude or competence


Gases, solids and liquids
Dim and vivid
Happy and livid
Bold and timid
Just and wicked
Soft and rigid
Burning and frigid
Yourself and assisted
Healthy and sickened
Talentless and gifted
Clean and addicted
Boundless and restricted
Straight and twisted
Deprived and privileged

Noisy and silent
Riot and quiet
Tiny and giant
Peaceful and violent

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