POETRY SOUP IS GARBAGE
why did i subscribe to this nonsense?
read the terms and conditions
no foul language, nor innuendos
FFS...can we not be adults?
can we not express our true selves?
No, we gotta cater to the weak minds
the forever-effing-blind
keep pushin' that purity nonsense
so we can all stay in-line
ignore truth, ignore dissent
keep the simpletons happy
bury our burdens with a fake smile
for utmost accessibility
Are nasty words used to express emotions to a heighten degree
Am i suppose to understand you any more than you understand me
Vocabulary words isn't hard to learn and to use
I can use words that aren't so nasty and still blow a fuse
Stand up comedy isn't the same due to foul language
When it comes to being professional how do you manage
I know God confused the languages but it cant be that bad
The fact you cant find better words is completely sad
It would upset you if your child imitated that
The bad behavior parents display even the good words they lack
Isn't this world ugly and nasty enough
Do you really need foul language for someone to call your bluff
Your grandma would attempt to wash your mouth out with soap
Such language puts you and the devil in the same boat
Find a better way of trying to express your pain, anger and commotion
So every person would be impressed and understand your emotion.
Grandma gave rugrat a gift,
Into the toy box I did lift,
It was so plastique,
Not quite fantastique,
Grandma, Grandma, where were you,
When I stepped on Lego at 4:32?
Foul language approached,
On my bare foot it encroached,
Sheer hell, granny, thank you not,
No wonder I am now a sot!
Encountered some drivers
In a mall parking lot
Absolutely blew my li'l ole mind
Rude and obnoxious
Only way to describe 'em
What's with this self absorbed kind
Seems so damn important
To always be first
Are there no more “courteous” drivers
Have they gone with hoop skirts
And Saddle Boots
Happy to say I'm a survivor
It's much like a war zone
As they race for a space
What's happened, where's chivalry gone
People on crutches
Men stooped over
Fair game for this bunch of morons
I'll get off my soapbox
Attempt to mellow out
What I saw was beyond comprehension
If I used foul language
I'd be just like them
Must be living in different dimension
May these words upon my breast
seek to help and heal and deliver
for these times we may shiver
at tricks the evil lay at our feet
in our minds on our street
that we may fall but for the call of the lord
For he is not the author of confusion
winged prayers will lift us in unison
and the sweetest spirits will fill the room
not foul language but blessed as rose bloom
And the wails of the widows will prevail
loved one is in heaven and we share
love still just one is closer to God
Fret not for he is with you dear heart
And the parents who lost a child
even at birth who long for a smile
stillborn, SIDS, sickle cell, other illness
God is moving even in the stillness
And history has the issue of blood
Woman healed by just one touch
All these trials we hear in hymns
Get you riled up to run to him
Only one son can we run to
And one God we trust so true
When in dilemma or sticky situation
Always remember invocation.
PICK A TITLE VOL 26 POETRY CONTEST
10/12/2021
SPONSOR EDWARD IBEH
[An old joke from longer ago than I care to believe]
The wizened war vet raised his fist in distress
Them Fokkers, he said, they kept coming
Each Fokker that came was as bad as the rest
The sky, full of Fokkers, was humming
First there’s one Fokker and then one more Fokker
Them Fokkers was everywhere
But one silly Fokker met Davy Jones locker
And crashed in the sea over there
The reporter then turned to the viewers
And fearing foul language complaints
Advised them that ‘Fokker’ ain't swearing
The Fokker’s were old fighter planes
And Fokkers like every old war plane
We’re flown by the pilots own wits
The vet said a Fokker was as you explain
But them Fokkers was Meschersmidts
The Halloween party needed a scare
Someone said the ouija board for a dare
But bad spirits came knocking
Their foul language was shocking
And caused many to soil their underwear...
The putrid air now turned rancid and thick
And to smash it you'd have needed a brick
Then they all started leaving
As they left they were heaving
And on the rooftop laughing was Old Nick...
Written 9th October 2020.
Resourceful father, wanting to know about,
Does an intelligent son to able cuss out ,
Hit his son's fingers with a heavy hammer.
Such was the foul language, that daddy got stammer!
You're a steaming pile of poo
With the rotten things you do
Lying, cheating, spreading rumors
You have a weird sense of humor
It might be a funny joke
But one day your gonna choke
On the words you have been spouting
When karma starts re-routing
Its way towards you , do not run
It will be a lot of fun
To see you get what is yours
Bringing you down to all fours
As you feel the torment
Of the pain you implement
On others since you were young
You have an evil spiked tongue
That will get you in trouble
Karma will make sure its double
The horror you have been spreading
Be afraid cause it is heading
Your way with a kick
Then you will not be so quick
To use foul language everyday
You are gonna really pay
Government policies that toilet stink
Presidentially approved
by a potty-mouth politrician rat-fink
Give the progressive town halls
more executive bathroom stalls
Read the foul language scrawls
on the Oval Office latrine
dollar-bill green painted walls
Flush the rank noise
with a few
smelly issue tissue tweet bawls
That dung aroma gon make your nose blink,
bowel vapors
will have your thoughts vomiting in the sink
Get the voting public
standing at nausea attention
Prep the ballot masses of breathy dissension
with sound bytes
of bitter chocolate bung mint,
duly veto sent
Tell ‘em it’s their sworn patriotic duty
to greedily eat the excrement
Taste the butt-hole flavor
of nasty worded inhalation torment
Truth got swallowed whole ... intestinal sold
Filthy lucre lips
do love the ruble con savor
Condition the brownie-nose party bound chumps
to double dip the cow chips
into the raw sewage salsa with the brown lumps
Be stricken by the loose tongue,
back-end diet
of diarrhea verbose crying
A cheeky butt buffet ...
odious motives with odoriferous intent
Buy the all-you-can-eat lying,
go feast on the swirling fear excrement
On my way to the pub
I was walking to the pub at sundown
when I reach my destination the last pink rays
on the sky was vanishing,
a promise of a sunny tomorrow.
On the road, I was overtaken by a horse
that neighed politely,
on its back, a crow sat using a foul language.
On the way back home I was late had
been playing poker with matches,
I lost a box.
I met the horse it offered to
take me home the foul crow hade gone.
I stabled the horse in the garage
gave it bread and water.
Next morning it was gone.
The crow sat on the window ledge
demanding a silver soup spoon and
an assortment of nuts.
Love trumps hate,
and if rioting in the streets destroying private property,
filthy and disgusting foul language shouted and painted on signs
that small children can easily hear and read,
combined with threats of blowing up a government building
regardless of how many innocent people are inside
doesn’t prove it,
then nothing does.
Don’t you just LOVE it?
What’s that old saying about the pot calling the kettle…….
Don't say the wrong things
Don't hurt others feelings
Just bite your tongue and
Keep your lips sealed
Don't swear
Don't be insulting
Don't use foul language
Just bite your tongue and
Keep your lips sealed
For its better to not get into an argument
Over a silly little thing that you'll regret later
Emily Krauss
To The Kids In The Back Of The Bus
To the kids in the back of the bus:
(With the warmest regards)
Stop screaming
Why do you feel the need to scream when every time you sit down?
Why do you feel the need,
the need to sit there and the need to yell and curse and spit and cry out crude and foul language that could ruin a thousand lives in a thousand instants?
Why do you do so?
To the kids in the back of the bus:
People matter, so be quiet about things your pea sized brains don't understand
To the kids in the back of the bus:
Your jokes, are not funny
Your lies, not satisfying
To the kids in the back of the bus:
What happened to respect?
What happened to kindness?
What happened?
To the kids in the back of the bus:
Why is it that every time you make fun of someone that they laugh?
Why do you laugh at the jokes that are meant to harm?
Why is it, that every time I say that you're wrong, you persecute me too?
Dear Society:
(With the highest regards)
Why have you taught us to be like the kids in the back of the bus?
Dreaming about life in the city
People in the village were so generocity
How he wish to return to the village
Where he will not live in the midst of foul language
Back in there life was so sweet
Now walking down the street
With bare feet
Weather in the cold or heat
Dying with hunger
People were shouting at him with their anger
Every night
I turn left to right
Nowhere to go
Nothing to do
Order than to live at peoples' door
And sleeping on the floor
As no roof over his head
Which lead
Him under the bridge
Near the edge
Or in the vent
Because he can not effort to pay rent
Oh! how he miss his mother,
Father, sister and brother
Remember how they used to ushered him home
When he come
How his little sister and brother welcome
Him home
Now living in ghotto
His body full with tattoo
Oh! how I try
Never to cry
When I see him I felt so bad
And really sad
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.