Best Vulgar Poems
And here we are, on this field
Full of wealth and want...
Hawking love and loans like lollies,
Goodies of globalization entice the gullible ones,
Profits blossom [only] in well-made markets,
Global indoctrination indiscriminate and insurmountable,
Only the fit survive this global rat race
When we feed the vulgar mouth of capitalism
To the facts we often would allude
Not only are you vulgar but so crude;
(Also vain if you want to add that.)
What you did thought was implicit
To everyone else seemed to be illicit.
Was obscene, absurd and ridiculous
Language used completely ludicrous;
Sure looked suspicious leaving scene;
Left trail of blood from a ruptured spline.
Philosophy often contained curiosity
Face looked awful committing an atrocity;
For hours and days did sit and stare
At women with bodies that were bare.
Poems he wrote were always incomplete
Continually forgot to raise toilet seat
Laughed so much and could not quit
Left his mark by dribbling all over it.
Left town and went on an expedition
After breaking rules about prohibition
Looked at oddly when orange hair observed;
Avoid my miserable body drivers swerved.
Appeared to be apparent us he loathed
When his filth was seen all unclothed
On arm wore image of Putin tattooed
Everyone thought was vulgar and crude.
We are starting to think that
Trump is no laughing matter
at all. Should clumsily slip
and break stupid neck in
shower stall.
Jim Horn
Woke up during night when I found
this poem on my mind hanging around.
Strange. It said that my poem was
written on February 15th. It is the
16th here already in Bolivia, NC
where I live. Oh, well.
Billy McWhiffy
Billy McWhiffy needed to fart
But there was a lady pushing a cart
Once she’d passed by and he thought he might bust
He readied himself for an almighty gust
But his belly was swollen with gas he’d amassed
And if he let rip, whole towns might be gassed
But he had to let go though he feared for his heart
And worried that farting might tear him apart
So Billy decided he shouldn’t eat beans
As he put rubber bands round the legs of his jeans
He reckoned that this was a wise thing to do
For if he let rip he would probably poo
But banding his jeans meant he had to bend down
And a fart thundered out with an explosive sound
It spattered the horse and the bulletproof vest
Of a mounted policeman who made the arrest
So Billy McWhiffy was slung in the clink
And prisoners gagged at the ungodly stink
And Billy’s new cell-mate started to yell
When putrid brown liquid sploshed all round the cell
The warden rushed in with a whopping great cork
But the ground was so splattered he struggle to walk
The cork had been pulled from a bottle of wine
But it plugged Billy’s butt and it fitted just fine
So Billy McWhiffy kept it inside
‘I’ll never blow raspberries again’
He lied
When up for parole and release was denied
Well, then he let rip... blew the gates open wide
So Billy McWhiffy went on the run
Becoming a legend for using no gun
He’d smother his victims and when he was done
He’d simply say ‘Get out of that one, my son’
The Vulgar and the Beautiful
By the roadside I saw a blushing flower amongst
arrogant, working class weed. It suffered greatly
this delicate bloom which could inspire a poet
to write about the richness of nature if only bloody
weed would stop being so obtrusive.
I picked the flower, rude, gray weed applauded
in their world of harshness beauty was strength.
And now that I have changed from being an angry
old man to a gentle soul, I put the flower in a vase
and saw it die of loneliness
Next day I stopped my car at the same spot I
ignored the blaring horns of angry drivers. And
the weed said: “why did you this to us we need
a soft soul amongst us even when we make fun
of its boon, but we need the love it creates.
Keg full of monkey j*zz
Jar packed with grime
Little tank of tiny turtles
Pot of slug slime.
Shaker full of flea larvae
Small box of moss
Squeeze-tube of mushy meat
Flask of dog sauce.
Leeches in a cookie tin
Ice tray of blow
Now can you play to win
This cooking show.
“The rope round Leah’s neck
Shall soon Leah’s life wreck’’:
Give Leah her first chance
For a funny dance
From a climbed stool
Removed as a rule…
Yes, Leah’s first full chance
For a last Quaint Dance…
And I shall advance
Of Course, Mark Evans,
Man of Relevance;
To stretch Leah’s mischance
With grins worse than lance
To wasted Leah raise
And the Devil praise!”
Congtatulater of Vulgar
Both Trump and supporters are so vulgar;
Of eachother appear to be a congratularor;
Inteligence do know,
They are way below;
What Trump did indicate need a translater.
Jim Horn
Guarantee you will never find another
poem like this one.
The Russian bear frighteningly growls
~ Will his paws rip out Ukraine's bowels
Lamented Streets
David J Walker
I bring the village and
The villagers follow
Each a part of the past of
a distorted dream
the energies of the city
magnetize everything
in its path
what I miss is the quiet
of a former reality
the colors clearly defined
the air unsoured and aroused
the waters translucent and pure
a wind with real meaning
a moon clearly seen from a Mesa
the sweet smell of a mesquite fire
by the lake
I bring the villagers who are inarticulate
In the urban foreign vernaculars of
The vulgar streets of daily disasters
Where every song sung is a lament
For sad listeners longing for an
Escape to simple settings