Best White Trash Poems


Poor White Trash

Some say
 they were pure white trash
 and the rich took a glancing pass
 as we walked the streets bared a....
But not one of us really cared
 ignoring their well to do stares.

As kids, we all laughed and danced
 annoying the better dismay glance.

Mama took us by the hand
 and the teens acted as if they were part of a grunge band
and such disarray kept us always on display
 as we happily danced away.

Some watcher bees said we must live in forest trees
 having no iota of couth when we sneezed
but still, we were happily unawares and that's the truth
 pure white trash never needed things for worth's proof.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: white trash, anti bullying, power, silly,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member White Trash Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas
And try as I may
I’d never be done
By the break of next day.

The stockings weren’t hung
Hell, they weren’t even knit
And the children in bed?
No, they’re throwing a fit!

And me in my kerchief
And Kmart house coat
Was testing a Holiday
Ice Cream-tini float.

When what to my
Bloodshot eyes should appear
But my absentee husband
With two cases of beer!

His eyes, how they glistened
His laughter, how scary
His walk was zig zag
His nose a red cherry!

He spoke not a word
(We last spoke in ought-eight)
But climbed up in my trailer
Like I’d cigs on rebate.

Then laying a finger
Inside of his nose
He belched and he farted
And took off his clothes.

But I heard him exclaim
‘Ore passing out for the night,
“Merry Christmas to All!
Can I have Newport Lite?”

November 28, 2018
Categories: white trash, christmas, funny, humor,
Form: Rhyme

Beer Belly Batman-White Trash Super Hero

There's a calmness to the air of the trailer park
As the dumpster in the back slides to the right
Underneath is where our Super Hero has his lair
And where adventure starts out every night

For years now it's been the same old routine 
Belches as he wobbles to his feet
Throws the remote down on the beer stained couch
Scratches his rear at the same time picking his teeth

Yes, the night belongs to Beer Belly Batman
Who spends his time fighting petty crime
From spitting on the sidewalkers to mouth full of food talkers
Putting them back in their place and back in line

Sure he used to be a top notch crime fighter
Evil forces he always did foil
But after years and years of beating crime up
The beating on him has taken its toll

If the neighbors music is to loud feel free to call him
Nothing he likes better than knocking heads of unruly kids
Hey Punk!Pull Your Pants Up! Is his favorite motto...
Giving Super Hero Wedges like nobody's biz

I don't know about you but this much is true
I always feel a little more safe and sound
And sleep that much better at night
Knowing there's a White Trash Super Hero around
Categories: white trash, funny, humor,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Inbred White Trash Cream of the Crop

You call the police on my son 
You pull a knife, he has a gun 
You call my wife a tramp, I call you a loser 
I drive an Escort, you drive a junked up Cruiser 
I ask my wife what's for dinner, she says slop 
We are inbred white trash cream of the crop 
We finally move in together and become one 
We do the horizontal bop until the morning sun 
We are now husband and wife, sister and brother 
Our kids won't know what to call us, maybe father and mother 
She is now pregnant with our child 
We are exhausted from our rituals and breeding style 
The neighbors say this is wrong that we should just adopt 
We must have our own or there will be no inbred white trash cream of the crop 
Now after 19 months, we have 2 
We steal from the goodwill box to get clothes for me and you 
We use electrical cords for belts and to discipline the children of ours 
We always encourage our kids to reach for the stars 
Their potential has yet to be achieved 
My wife says she has something up her sleeve 
We believe our kids will always be on top 
It helps to be inbred white trash cream of the crop 
Billy Sue is twelve and in the fourth grade 
Charlie does addition, he's got it made 
Our kids will bring us fortune and fame 
Too bad all kids ain't as talented as ours, what a shame 
Now our son hosts an AM radio program called the Swap Shop 
Our kids can feel privileged being inbred white trash cream of the crop 
The love between us is very strong 
We feel as inbreds, it's where we belong 
Our kids have impairments, which brings government  funds 
We keep our inbreds on the priority list they are still number one 
Now my daughter does unbelievable hip hop 
All other kids are jealous because they are not inbred white trash cream of the 
crop
Categories: white trash, funny, son, wife, son,
Form: ABC

White Trash

When I was growing up I knew we were not like other people
The way we lived was not very clean and stable,

I hated the fact that this title would be with me forever
So I pretended to be better now and left that world behind me and i feel that's pretty clever,

No matter how I try to be something I am not
I can't seem to clean off the stench of the trash I thought I forgot,

I will always be considered white trash
No matter how much I try to avoid the greed of cash,

You can't hide from who you really are
Believe me I have tried and haven't gotten to far,

I don't care to work for my own way
So I choose to take from others no matter what they say,

I will grow old still being white trash
It is in my blood to be this way so why change the past.


Written By: Unique Poetry 2008: This was inspired by people whom grew up in this way...so sad...
Categories: white trash, childhood, depression, family, growing
Form: ABC

White Trash Wedding

Shaving cream covers up the truck missing a left side window
Backyard lawn is freshly mowed folding chairs assembled
Trailer has been freshly scrubbed the scent of pine still lingers
Ready for the wedding day of Bubba James and Ginger

They’ve known each other all their lives even quit school together
Rumored that somehow their kin but that has yet been founded
Dated off and on for years come Spring a new arrival
Now she’s knocked up dressed in white, God help the child’s survival

The crowd has gathered to celebrate the union of this couple
Indeed a sight to for all to see two hands placed on the bible
Bubba James half drunk with shame with Ginger’s delicate condition
Say I do, a prayer is prayed, the party soon commences

Will their life bring happy times or a road of pure destruction
Pretty soon the child will come and test their own survival
Only God and fate can answer this too soon to draw conclusions
Just hope and pray for it’s too late to stop this white trash union
 

**This is not intended to offend anyone...just got an inspiration
Categories: white trash, husband, people, sympathy, wedding,
Form: Free verse


Television's Explosion of White Trash

I was appalled, no I was horrified
flipping through
the channels and I do it quickly
I saw the Steve something show on.

I could not understand the speech
of the whites
they obviously suffered from
some type
of congenital birth defects
talking about who has been intimate with who's brother and sister
and any thing else that moved.

Then I saw the audience
the flood of white trash left me
devastated.

And as to whom would condone such
an obvious
Exploitation of such damaged
creatures.

And I realized why the Republicans
would want them all,
to have as many children as possible
without any means to support them.

Should they be paid to be sterilized?
I confess after I
put the Lions and Bears game on
I secretly turned my head and unthinkingly,
I knew that
I would allow them to do it.

And now I have a better understanding of
why the police dislike going to their home's
a number of times each month.
Categories: white trash, 12th grade,
Form: Carpe Diem

White Trash City Walls

A carnival in winter scraped along the ragged streets,
Pursued by ghosts in snowstorms howling down the avenues;
And in that bright atomic midnight where the blood and neon meet
A host of demon angels hung their heads and sang the blues.

Unseen, a semi-conscious temptress knelt upon the paving slabs,
Her drink was spiked with Rohypnol to force an easy lay,
As the blood ran from her kneecaps all the passing taxi cabs
Ignored her plight as best they could because she couldn't pay.

The artefacts of brutal rape spilled on the alley floor,
The sky had turned a sickly shade like bruising on a cheek;
With money paid the choices made can sometimes lead to more,
With HIV to accompany all the fun you had this week.

All the songs she heard in dying were the hymns of destiny
And a love that once was close proclaimed of how December falls,
In a finger gag of muffled screams the pretty girls sang harmony,
The graffiti stains of broken dreams hit the white trash city walls.
© Tony Bush  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: white trash, angst, confusion,
Form: Verse

Poor White Trash

Poor White Trash

                                                             By
                                                      Patrick Kelly

 The sun sinks low over shanty town there, a sweating woman sits on a 
 dilapidated porch.
 She sees herself in the eye of her mind and pictures appear of what might have 
 been.
 She retains her rocker and sweats in unquenched heat, unrelenting ferocity of 
 the beaten down poor.
 With a cigarette between chap lips, she fights off the need to cook, her energy 
 long departed along with the good of life.
 In a silent rage, she screams in anguish yet, there is no one to listen and 
 nowhere to run.
 Too suddenly, her hair has turned to gray. 
 Her beauty, slowly decaying til all is lost.
 Now, wrinkles vanquish the smooth complexion of her youth.
 No longer does she smell the sweet aroma of her bed, its luster gone, along 
 with her pride, with too much despair and too little money.
 Sometimes she walks the old dirt road, waiting for the heat to burn off and the 
 night to embrace the coolness of the late hours.
 She dreams of things that might have been before youthful lust became a 
 nightmare.
 She could have walked in beautiful gardens, her home, a pleasure to herself and her one time proud spirit.
 She wills the madness to subside, her thoughts splintered upon her return to 
 realization and the unrelenting heat, dirty dishes and that drunk she calls a 
 a husband.
 Wiping a hand across her sweaty brow, she turns to retrace her steps to her 
 lowly shelter and the realisation that she is poor white trash.
Categories: white trash, anger, angst, emotions,
Form: Prose
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