Best Trashy Poems
$hawty Got $wag
Shawty got swag,
Shawty mad dope.
Face all cheesin’,
She real turned up.
Goin’ to da club,
She steppin' wit her peeps,
Lookin’ so ratchet,
She’s straight up hoochie.
No racks in her pocket,
No stacks in her wallet,
But she all into bubbly
Slurpin’ and burpin’.
Lookin for a big baller,
Who’ll give her wat she wants,
Wildin’ on the dance floor,
Tweakin’ an’ freakin’,
Shawty actin' so cra cra!
She just like da rest a dem,
But Shawty real fly,
Sure likes a lotta ice,
Bling bling, and Benjamins.
Shawty creepin’ to hook up
Coz she needs a boo wit finesse,
Who’ll give her Yves St. Laurent,
5-star hotels, and 5-star restaurants.
Shawty off the chain,
Shawty off the hook,
She got game and she’s aight!
Shawty da bomb - fuh real!!!
08-18-2014
Contest: Ebonics – Let’s Do Some Slang
Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker
Placement: 1st
Some Terms and Definitions:
shawty – a young attractive female; dope – cool, nice, awesome; swag – style;
turn up – excited; mad – really a lot; peeps – friends, close pals; baller – a
thug that made it in the big time; racks/stacks– lots of money; aight – alright;
wildin’– to go crazy, acting out of control; cra cra – crazy; tweakin’/freakin’ –
dancing provocatively and moving around out of control; cheesin’ – smiling;
finesse – man who has swag and can spend a huge amount of money; ratchet
– ghetto diva; creepin’ – sneaking about; bubbly – champagne; bling bling –
expensive flashy jewelry; Benjamins – hundred dollar bills; boo – one’s lover;
da bomb – the best of the best; game – skills; ice – expensive flashy jewelry
usually diamonds or jewelry with diamonds; off the chain/off the hook –
excellent, fantastic, awesome; fly – cool, in style; hook up – getting together
with someone romantically; hoochie – a female who dresses trashy; straight up
– absolutely, really.
(Inspired by the genius of Ms. Norey Bailey. Please check her out )
Soulful sista
Strolling in her full spirited stride
Just couldn't hide
From my heart's searching eye's
that I swore I
wouldn't allow to be blinded by this mindless modern day luv no more
Until that particular half second
I wanted to run-------grab her by the hands!!!!!!
AND......
take her down to see the Reverend
I didn't have any spare time that was to be wasted
Wanted to recycle my trashy reputatation
Strip
Down My image Un-til- it was raw
So that.....
It could be steamed and not fried
BLESSED
Not viciously devoured
Hope that I'm a genourous helping
That'll nurture your body and soul
and in no way be unhealthy
One who'd always fill you up, never leave you empty
Be your top and bottom money maker and not once will you ever have to pimp me
Easy to open
Hard to tear apart
I play a game thats not a game & i trump any Player's card
I'm what the mighty-dollar can't buy
And I'm the same thing that stores just don't sale
Leave My Feet In Poetry Now Firmly Planted
I tried, compose a revelation poem about truth
Did that in earnest, in my wild but honest youth
But with mind fighting a stone wall nothing came forth
it was as if I fought as South against the North.
My brain had shifted into a deep murky haze
I was prisoner chained by a dark-cast craze
Each dawn I rose against a grey, terrible front
All my verses came out silly or rudely blunt
Aggravating, torturous to the nth degree
I gave it a go, took a vacation to flee
Not a damn clever thing I tried seemed to work
I ended up thinking am I fool and a jerk
Failed, threw my hands up and said, to hell with it
I cried out, had me a bad uncontrollable fit
I took a short vacation to a white sand beach
Seeking again, to my ran away muse to reach
As the ocean waves into my soul did soft splash
I ran around shopping spending loads of green-cash
Soon I forgot about all by having good fun
Rose each new dawn saluting the rising gold sun
Eight days, my time was spent exploring deeper life
Soon gone was any shred of hardship or dire strife
That morn, I rose seeing sun's sweeter golden rays
I discovered a much truer life in newer ways
That very night I sat down with pen in my hand
Out like magic beautiful words about this land
And then in another poem sweet love of true youth
Verses and verses slung about love and bold truth
Then it hit me thus, my angel muse had return
No more trashy stale words would I have to now burn
My muse told me she left to a hard lesson teach
She came back not because of words I did beseech
She came back when I had forgotten to her so love
So she left me to deal with dark world's push and shove.
That cool night, I wrote a superb poem on true love.
And if I were writing hand, muse is my dear glove.
Swearing never again, to my muse take for granted
I leave feet in poetry, now firmly planted.
Robert J. Lindley, Rhyme
Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; Today at 10:14 AM.
Chetta is the nom de plume
of a brassy, classy, sassy, and a little bit trashy
sister of the summer sun,
she's a lover of sugar and spice and everything nice;
feels sunny, funny, and a little poetic,
but fears the wrong word, the wrong rhyme and the typo;
her dream is to see the world in peace, children in laughter,
and all the people in love with each other~
Chetta lives in the city of wonder in the state of creation
where she always knows the Achara is blooming...
...then will be delighted to see
the lights of eternity,
and the daughters she imagined
awaiting her in heaven.
Most females have forgotten that it takes more than
just being a woman to qualify as a lady.
Many women think that being sexy is all about
T & A, and not about inner beauty and the attractiveness of a gorgeous mind. Hence, they have put these ideas into their children growing brains.
So many of our young girls think sex is love, that's sad.
Way to many females don't even know what a classy lady is, they think it has to do with societies class system. This is because they have never met a classy lady, only trashy females trying to convince everybody they have class, all while their ass is hanging out!
The problem here lies in good role models, for all ages. Just because a woman is financially successful does not make her an appropriate role model. Having money and having class have NOTHING to do with each other. Fortunate girls have been blessed with good role models who were truly a class act ( hence their actions were in concert with their character as women). Some of us were shown a classic classy lady in our grandmothers, mothers, aunts, sisters and friends. Many were not that blessed.
Raising a daughter with class, confidence, intelligence and inner beauty can be a tall order in today's world. The media has twisted these values substantially. Parents, you know what you have done or failed to do. Instilling integrity, fidelity, honor and character is your job when raising a child. When a young person without basic values is turned loose upon the world, that word "classy" can determine there future. I know the task is difficult, but think of your love for your child. Do you condone trashy or promote classy? Kids can't be left to teach themselves ethics and self worth. I challenge parents to step up to the task and give your kids the gift of good parenting.
For lack of attention
And lack of invention
They couldn't help it
Now we can't stop it
With mustered pretention
Living in the keyhole
The pretty lies are sold
Women of appetite eat
Cannibal spawn tweet
As our credits roll
Just out of light
In the shadow of right
Men counterfeit valor
Then duck and cower
Lacking a will to fight
Fast forward life time
Wonder past its prime
Cut and paste history
To create a mystery
Of victimless crime
Remember what to say
Regurgitate yesterday
We salted the earth
And lost its worth
We lost our way
Alone in the corner
The facts adorn her
Through rise and fall
Truth awaits us all
As we learn her cure
Folly laughing loud
The trashy and proud
Can't see it there
Behind the despair
Death with its crowd
Form:
"Beyond lychgate lies future death" she says,
cucumbered eyes slid back under cauliflower sky,
brimming smithereens of harkening demons.
Been in saddle some time since torchlight began,
a child's silent castle ago. Chaos-times cut alleyways
through rose-lettered circles, reads trashy maid.
The journey fell sword north along shield path.
Peninsula late to temple-crawling fiend
and settle princess patter dust. Like trick glass
the moon palace emanates, a chain works
its crystal door. A shore of bane swims world-sick
with fire-wing ticks abreast, dragon-headed air:
happens to be, as the world burns...
Spring chickens looked at first
grasshopper leaves, blossoms.
Empty saddles of burnt Autumns
sit with moccasin thirst.
One ruby night ago, vampire night,
made movie set by tail light.
Wrench of fog came loose and fell.
Eye of moon too close, well...
Winged skeletal open sheet,
sanguine collar of his neat.
Began by serving up the meat.
Legs he tossed, and arms and feet.
A rise and shine ago, luster of sight,
out of scene the farmer goes.
Steel machine cranks horizon bright.
Scroll up the title i suppose.
Barn stall features dingy leather
where lasting gleam slips by candle.
Recall adventure, mural by weather.
Motion eye attached to handle.
Scoot across encrusted bucket,
folded over the eating depth.
Put filthy Kraken atop it,
swished around the damn mess.
Brave journal follows company
down the water-taped steps
to where there isn't any.
Sealed flame lights diver's quest.
A cave away, keys of hassle,
swim to shore with hopes unravel.
Brute force thunders far within.
Exact the sword to have them send.
Enter bar stool and order takeout.
Hostess charm enhanced the make out.
Her fuel adds flames to very fabric.
Her fists were fiery, action: magic.
Out of dust broom closet knelt good
ole nuke we ended up sneaking places:
peaceful village of the caring hood,
small reaches, to parking spaces.
Twisted hair in castle braids,
scoundrel bristles painting raids.
Countdown pistol official use,
punching bag for ogre face.
Some girls are brassy, some girls are flashy
Some girls are even a wee bit trashy
They give you a tweak
A tug on your cheek
Actually prefer girls that show a bit of their ass-y
© Jack Ellison 2015
A LEAPING ACQUAINTANCE
O ask me if a friend is mine for keeping
And I will scroll down her countenance in years
To show acquaintance that’s a target leaping
And I will tell you of the long nights’ weeping
Into the valley of the corrupted seers
That her acquaintance was a target, leaping
As if acts of confidence were seeping
Down the drainpipe like a burst of tears,
Asking if a friend is for safe keeping,
Secrets unravelled in the glare, bleeping
With the traffic of the times that hooked my peers
Just ask me if her friendship’s mine for keeping:
I say, a pox on their assiduous reaping
Their facts are gleaned where the bar sells beers
To show acquaintances like a target, leaping
On opportunity, grafting on chances, peeping
With trashy envious shades adrift in leers;
O ask me if this friend is worth the keeping,
I’ll show an acquaintance missed the target, leaping.
from IN MEMORY OF HER 2008)
"The Poet Dies" in
"A Trashy Neighborhood".
Why was he there?
He might tell us if he could.
He was sitting all alone,
Lost in "Introspection"
Or thinking of something he had seen
In the opened newspaper section.
It was "Twilight" time,
A poet's time of day.
Perhaps he was composing a poem,
"Lost Words " he will never say.
For days cold wind has blown from the channel
but it has calmed to milder breeze today.
I feel a soft spring breath upon my cheek
and hope the gentleness is here to stay.
The strong gale stripped the apple tree of blossoms.
She's now content to show her advanced age
and steps aside in modest resignation
to let the sweet lilac take center stage.
Rhododendrons and azaleas are contenders
for lilac's glory when she starts to fade.
My garden beauties all demand attention,
sun lovers and the ones that thrive in shade.
While I was trapped indoors, the weeds kept growing,
taking my garden as their own domain.
Nature is a strong and stern taskmaster,
just waiting for a chance to grab the rein.
So Mistress Dandelion, I give you warning;
I'm coming with my spade and rake and hoe.
You are invading space reserved for others;
so pack your bags it's time for you to go.
Tell your friends I have eviction orders;
the elegant Miss Rose will be here soon.
She'd be offended by your wanton ways
at her big welcome party come this June.
I’m not much into phonies
And I love to play the ponies
I spend too much shoppin’
And do too less moppin’
I love my amazing hubby
My fantastic cat, Chubby
Starbuck’s Passion Iced Tea
That trashy Reality TV
My famed DVR recorder
Though not exactly in that order!
I am crazy about my fitness classes
And adorable old men who make passes
'Experts' say I have ADD, but I don’t agree
The reasons…Wow look, a hickory tree!!!***
I fancy fine champagne and microbrew beer
When the Broncos are on, you’ll hear me cheer
Well, good friends, alas, my departing…
Why, you ask? Big Brother is starting!!!
***Warning: If you ‘get’ this, you just might have ADD :)
Some girls are brassy, some girls are flashy
Some girls are even a wee bit trashy
They give you a tweak
A tug on your cheek
Really prefer girls that show a bit of their ass-ies
Arsenals of axes brought by the crate
Pedals increasing experimental
Trashy dissections of raw cityscapes
NYC rockers gone transcendental
Static blasts shredding the off-key high pings
Maracas hit toms to keep structured pace
Drum sticks wedged under alternate tunings
Meted by contrasting booms of the bass
Dissonance anteed raises the ceiling
Shaping sound by analog disruption
Searching/defining an urban feeling
Stark layers of beautiful corruption
Sweet ballads sung without being pretty
Growls and screams about something gritty
You made a lot of money
selling lewd photos of nude
Then you parlayed your profits
into cyber surfing —
triple X cinema ***** crude
Nasty video sex business you were so into
Your vested interest was
a skin flick portfolio bankroll ...
Dirty money bottom line
Letting curious customers
put their cyber bit coins into the virtual pay slot
So they can take a ride on the carnal carousel
Then make them get off ...
Have them taste naked flesh boiling hot
in an abominable lascivious pot
You are so proud of yourself,
Mr. Sleazy bit coin billionaire
You make it so easy —
sex suckers love to lick poisoned lollipop sticks
Getting minds addicted to wicked desires,
those tempting tokens are gonna take ‘em there
You’re so filthy rich cavalier ...
crushing souls, you really don’t care
What those turned-out cyber tramps,
hopefully, will come to one day understand,
those grimy bit coins
is greasing somebody’s dirty hand
And that palm is on a beach somewhere
getting a penthouse triple X suntan
Bit coin billionaire,
you’re a dirty old man
with a Howard Weinstein leer
Bit coin billionaire,
you got sticky floor hands
and semen oil slick hair
Spreading your cyber surfing
triple X flotsam everywhere
You’re just a devilish voyeur,
a nickel-and-dime fleshpot billionaire
Your trashy ways smells like
a STD flea-bitten garbage can
And your infectious craves are a
CDC health hazard quarantine
Bit coin billionaire,
you’re a dirty money man
with semen snake oily hands
Bit coin billionaire,
with filthy green scaly skin
In need of some brimstone lotion
Bit coin billionaire,
you’re a dirty money man
with sticky floor hands
Bit coin billionaire,
with filthy lucre ashy skin
In need of a brimstone suntan
This poem was inspired by the
talented Richard Lamoureux’s poem,
“Church Perfect Surface.”
— Romantic Warrior