Long Assholes Poems
Long Assholes Poems. Below are the most popular long Assholes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Assholes poems by poem length and keyword.
I went to the hospital and they said they were going to shove a camera up my ass.
I told them that I didn't want that to happen, I told them that I was going to pass.
But they said it was too late because I'd already signed the papers that allowed them to treat me.
But I didn't want a camera up my ass, I would've rather that they used baseball bats to beat me.
They shoved the camera up my ass and it went in deep.
It really hurt because the idiots forgot to put me to sleep.
I cussed those assholes out and they said that they didn't like my attitude.
But they disliked it even more when they had to pay me two million bucks after I sued.
(This poem is only half fictional. I really did have a Colonoscopy in 2010 and I'm having to have another one next week.)
So many people all together
Not an angry word can be heard
Everyone is getting along fine
But there are a few
They hate some group of innocent people
Feeling that they are right
They start screaming and fighting
Attacking anybody whom they consider lesser life
It could be race or religion
Maybe where they were born
Something just makes them worse than us
Makes their lives totally worthless
Most people do not hate
But it only takes a few assholes
Armed with guns and bombs
And too many are victims
Wounded and murdered in just mere moments
Massacre added to the list
And more families in grief
All because of unnecessary bigotry and hate
And we cannot say stop
© Poem – X/I/MMXXVI
LRET
If you don’t support gun rights,
there’s something wrong with you,
if you don’t support gun rights,
you’re evil through and through,
if you don’t support gun rights,
then you can go get screwed,
if you don’t support gun rights,
there’s something wrong with you.
John lived in the country
where work was hard to find,
how to earn a paycheck
was always on his mind.
He had a wife and children,
three other mouths to feed,
when he went on the hunt
it was with a real need.
Fifty pounds of deer meat,
all with a single shot,
meat for the whole winter,
improvement to his lot.
To buy that at a market
would cost hundreds of bucks,
so he targeted the deer
thankful for the good luck.
Marie was five foot one,
barely one hundred pounds,
and knew she was in danger
late at night on the town.
Some folks said, “Call the cops,”
but that took too much time,
she had to defend herself
from assholes with cruel minds.
They liked to target women,
hard for them to fight back,
they had the size and muscle
that most women did lack.
So in her purse she had
a thirty-eight waiting,
all who might target Marie
had a surprise coming.
Martin was a father
with quite much to protect,
he’d seen much in this life,
knew not what would come next.
But he had lost his mother
in a past robbery,
yet here in his own house
such things would never be.
A duty to protect them,
the job of any man,
if any didn’t like that
he didn’t give a damn.
So he kept a shotgun,
and knew its usage cold
to meet any scumbag
who came there feeling bold.
Hector loved his freedom,
his leaders, not so much,
he voted against them
but didn’t have much luck.
They took people’s rights away,
claimed, “For the common good!”
Started interfering with
things no one ever should.
Stole half of his money,
silenced his voice online,
turned their backs on hate mobs
with intentions malign.
Others were much like him,
with real things to defend,
and like great men before them
would bring this to an end…
If you don’t support gun rights,
there’s something wrong with you,
if you don’t support gun rights,
you’re evil through and through,
if you don’t support gun rights,
then you can go get screwed,
if you don’t support gun rights,
there’s something wrong with you.
A year it's been, a year and more...
not that anyone else is keeping score.
My poems have never slept for so long,
but life has also never felt more wrong.
'Defiance' is my utmost, my favorite word...
the closest to "me" that I have ever heard.
But necessity has stolen its triumph and pride,
survival having become my only guide.
Grief has forced upon me six rounds...
loaded the revolver by filling the mounds.
The muzzle presses into my temple every day,
and only mulishness holds it at bay.
Instead of defying assholes, malice, hate, greed...
my will is entirely bent towards this need.
I cannot write otherwise, cannot force the muse,
while I'm simply looping, "I refuse, I refuse, I REFUSE".
"Undefeated", my favorite songs belt out...
I wish I could claim it truly, could similarly shout.
But the truth is that I have been shattered,
soundly beaten, smashed, stained, battered.
But strength lies not in never taking the heat...
only in getting back to your goddamned feet.
And if there's two things I unquestionably know,
it's heat - and telling the world " no".
Charlie briefly belonged to a group that would say...
"the only easy day was yesterday".
I say, the only easy day was...
when?
She jumps into the fray
Pretending to be witty and bright
Hoping someone will like her
It is her fourth new job in six months
She will probably be hated
There are weird smiles already
And she has not been training for more than an hour
She begins frowning
For it is difficult to smile
When everyone is against you
Is everything all right? Her new boss asks.
His face has turned ugly. He looks older now.
Meaner somehow. She realizes she has not taken her lithium.
I hate you all! She says, running out screaming.
Knowing the assholes will pink slip her.
Because they are flipp'n bullies.
I thought that my painting was a masterpiece.
But the bad critiques of it never ceased.
My brother said it was a masterpiece of sh**.
I was so upset at him that he got hit.
I thought the people who saw it were going to turn into the Incredible Hulk because their
faces turned green.
When those assholes said that it stunk, I thought they were being mean.
When it was being sold at an auction, the people puked.
I was so mad that I told them to put up their dukes.
But somebody bid on it and I was tickled.
I didn't even mind that it sold for a nickel.
But then something happened that made me feel ashamed.
The buyer didn't want the painting, he wanted the frame.
Instead of hanging it over the fireplace, he threw it in the fireplace.
Everybody said that it was for the best but I think it was a disgrace.
(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)
It's time now for an intervention
Band together for some prevention.
The fools are loosed upon the land.
It's time for the sane to take a stand.
They're roaming free to shake the night.
Filling each home with unknown fright.
Authorities say it's just fun.
But, we're all thinking it's a gun .
I just deleted two whole stanza's.
My words became extravaganza.
Because I'm tired of these reckless fools.
Who've no regard for the golden rules.
I'm now beyond just being scared.
I now have to raise arms I've bared.
The blood has risen in my veins.
I still seek peace, but necessity reigns.
P. S. There is someone or some ones riding around blowing up loud fireworks tonight in my neighborhood. It's been going on now for about 3 hours. I just now heard another very loud one. I called police and they said that they're trying to find the car that's throwing them out because others have also called. That was two hours ago. I ask you, do you think the police are doing their job. Well, I'll tell you what I think. Not hardly. They need to put a few squad cars in the area and catch these assholes. You see people, we had an active shooter, shelter in place situation a couple years ago. That individual actually shot a cop and a couple other people. And we have been putting up with some person setting off fireworks, or frankly, they sound more like gun fire most of the time to me for the past 5 years or so in this area and the police just don't do anything. You can tell the difference. Tonight is a barrage of loud bangs. But just within the last couple of weeks. We heard an aggressive repetition of a handful of shots. Not fireworks. Well, thanks for reading. I just feel pretty damn defenseless and truly sick and tired of these individuals raising hell and disturbing the peaceful sense we used to know in this neighborhood.
If the world burned
I wouldn't be too sad
Afraid of the abyss
But definitely just fine
I have nothing to cling on too much
A lover, couple parents and
Some family really not that much
Maybe my dog
I admire her so much
My life was lost long a go
And my purse has never had two coins
a purple patch
I am struggling to keep up
with the petiness pretences
and self importance
I am supposed to imposse
on my self just to make sense
seem human seem like I am doing stuff
With some experiences '
That I dont think matter much
and an education that I am not allowed
to use If I do not match
with corporate culture
made to mask toxic matter
In that environment
Made for machines and proud workers
Emotionally intelligent assholes
Who slit throats just too be told good work
By some sad people who
Do all that to have the little assholes telll them
Great work
So that they can believe it themselves
and pat their own backs
They do all that to stave off that fact
That we are all human
All special '
meaning that no one is that special
makes us equally just stuck
In their time marching towards
a dirt patch
Comforted by narratives
That have heroes, villains allies, dukes machines and purpose
But none of us ever do much
Because at the end of time
we were just stardust drifting in an ininite cosmos
That is also anxious about its lack of purpose
So no I would not be too sad
If the world just burned
Form:
My mama checked my social media
‘cause she is all about her baby boy
She saw my Lamborghini and she said
Man, that boy don’t toy!
I am wear’n my Glock when I come to Sunday dinner
She checks me out and says
Damned boy, can you be any thinner?
Fattens me up, for the kill. In case the cops chase me.
They chase us, you know they do.
They chase us first, assuming we are guilty of something.
I wear my Glock, just in case, between me and you.
Yes that’s my Suburban, my apple dumpling.
You know I’ll protect you with my life.
I have thirty thousand on me, at this second, Baby.
I will not make you my wife,
But I will make you my baby’s mama, maybe.
I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you
I have blown away these assholes before.
Just say you’ll be my baby’s mama, Boo.
I am a freak’n rock star in the hood, forever more.
To all who claim that they are always here for me,
whenever I need to reach out and seek support from anybody.
All of you, and I mean all of you are all hypocritical phonies,
who just want to feel good about themselves selfishly,
convincing yourself that you're helping one in need,
when all of you couldn't care less in reality.
When I am attempting to pour my heart out with great difficulty,
Shut Your Freaking Mouth, and just listen to me.
Allow me to complete a thought or sentence at the very least.
Don't be so driven to hear yourself talk so eagerly,
because the message you are sending to yours truly,
is, "I'm not listening, I'm not interested, I just want to talk on endlessly."
Allow Me To Express My Grief Openly,
without getting interrupted by your annoying voice continually,
and that's just the hypocrites I've dealt with personally.
To the rest of you out there, the assholes of many,
who claimed, "I'm here for you Bill. I would die for you Billy."
I never asked anything from any of you previously,
but when I asked all of you a small favor that was important to me,
a task performed literally costless, conveniently and effortlessly,
not one single response from my so called family or friends, not any.
was received from any of you bastards and bitches, not one of you phonies.
So I guess what I'm trying to express here in it's entirety,
is Screw All Of You Mother Screwing Phonies, SCREW EVERYBODY!
Every MotherScrewing One Of You, STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!