Long Piss off Poems
Long Piss off Poems. Below are the most popular long Piss off by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Piss off poems by poem length and keyword.
Papa bear, no longer there?
Who are you? This can't be true.
Gone are you smiles, our distance is miles
Poor Vinnie wants peace, but you dance to the beast
Greed is you shame, wish we did not share a name
The dad I once loved, to be held to be hugged
Your motives are clear, but grandads still here
Much to your angst, oh just piss off to France!
Leave him to me, we'll be fine him and me
Long live the king, I won't let you win
Go off on your jaunt, but know this will haunt...
Lost your only flesh, now as for the rest
Don't know how you sleep at night, what you've done isn't right
But God is swift these days, you'll get karma for your ways
Julie too, crocodile tears are moot
You can both whistle, she's prickly as a thistle
Me and mine are just fine, going alone in our prime
Unkempt, bedraggled,
Pushing her life before her
In a tatty shopping trolley,
Covered in a dirty duvet.
She moves around the town,
Slowly,
Head down,
Hugging the walls and side alleys,
Trying to be inconspicuous.
One day with curious concern, I approach.
"Hello, how are you today?"
She stares at me with wild eyes.
"Do you need anything,
A drink, something to eat?"
She opens her mouth,
Exposing rotten, stumpy teeth,
And replies, "I need peace - piss off."
Perhaps I'll try another day.
Weeks later I see her,
Hunched on a park bench,
Faithful trolley by her side.
She studies something in her hand.
I ponder on her age.
What reduced her to this life?
Rummaging in bins for food.
Sleeping in the underground carpark.
Does she have any family?
How does she survive the bitter, winter nights?
I pluck up the courage and walk over.
I notice white lines down her weathered cheeks,
Revealingly tear tracks,
Unveiling her sadness.
I sit on the bench beside her.
"Hello, can I help you?"
"Go away, leave me alone." She croaks
I press on, "Can I buy you a hot drink
And something to eat before I go?"
She shrugs, wafting her unpleasant odour.
"What would you like?"
She shrugs again, not raising her head.
I go to a nearby refreshment shed
Purchase a sugared tea and bacon roll.
She doesn't look up as I place them on the bench beside her.
Then she utters, "You can piss off now."
I go to leave and glance at a dog-eared photo she is holding,
A smiling couple, holding a young child.
Could she possibly be,
The pretty, young woman in the picture?
Maybe it's a son or daughter?
"Who's your photograph of?" I ask.
Clutching the picture to her breast,
She wildly looks at me,
Then shouts,
"I said, PISS OFF!"
I retreat.
Peering back over my shoulder
I see her,
Drinking tea and eating her roll,
Head down.
Perhaps I'll try again another day.
Form:
He wasn't just gay,
he was GAY gay. The saddest gay person
I've ever known. He was my friend.
He said that I was all he had...
me and Jesus. But he could talk to me
a lot easier than he could Him.
" Sometimes, I think that He's mad at me," he told me once.
"He's mad at me for not fixing myself.
I've tried a few times. But then,
He says, 'What's the matter with YOU?
Leave it alone!'"
"Sometimes, late at night, I go to Johnnie Mercers Pier, all the way to the end---
and just scream at Him. I AM BROKEN,
AND you DID IT! SO you NEED TO FIX IT
RIGHT NOW'!
He gets really angry when I do that."
"I don't know..." I said to him..."I think you gotta do a hell offa lot to piss off GOD."
We both broke out in hysterical laughter.
I wonder, now,
why we found that so funny.
Last week, Shame flew to San Francisco.
He said to look for Jesus,
cause he couldn't find Him at church anymore,
and somebody told him
that He'd moved there.
So, he sold everything that he owned,
except for the neon orange boa that he wore
on special occasions and
a book of poetry by Langston Hughes,
and he left.
When he got there, he checked himself
into a fancy hotel and put his book on the table. He opened it up to the poem,
"The ***** Speaks of Rivers."
He grabbed his orange boa and
wrapped it about his neck. Then went outside and hailed a taxi.
He told the driver to take him to the bridge. The driver put him out, never questioning the destination
(I feel certain that he'd made that trip before).
Shan gave him a $100 tip and waved him off.
When I got the news, I just had to chuckle a little inside. Only that DAMN Shame could manage to do both---
find Jesus,
and piss Him off,
all in a single leap.
He walked with a swagger,
a delinquent lagger and recidivist wagger
all his schoolboy days.
Joyridin on the Pare’ bus
he’d skylark and cuss just like one of us
as was his way always.
He was undeniably cool
but did piss off at school and play the fool
from bell to ringin bell.
Widely well liked as a peer
and but for the odd jeer had nothin to fear
but many a tale to tell.
He oft sat ready in class
but mostly half ar-se and exams barely pass
and interest feign.
Almost always in a scrape
lookin to mock or ape or some dare or jape
and felt a swingin cane.
He did the flyin fox fling
and legs and arms cling on the rope swing
with collidin force.
For dear life hands hangin,
blokes fallin and clangin into bodies bangin
on the Confidence Course.
He was a hurler of eggs
and till someone begs did charlie their legs
but it was all in fun.
A water bomb he’d let fly
when he’d up on high ambush a passer-by
abscondin on the run.
He under the gym below
with his friends in tow did hide and stow
lest they all be found.
Then one guy in the loop
dived through a hoop and the rest swoop
should it fall down.
He at lunch hour stood
all dutiful and good but not as he should
policin the tuck shop.
As monitor it was his job
to calm the unruly mob but not tell or dob
suckin on his lollipop.
He climbed out on a limb
and broke into the gym lettin his friends in
loadin up the bar.
Squattin and pressin away
liftin in the weight bay till fun and horseplay
went a step too far.
He was a classroom pest
out of uniform dressed on his own quest
and always in strife.
But in his heart he knew
what he needed to do lest bedlam ensue
and his foolin run rife.
He was a master pranker,
some say a wanker but he did hanker
for somethin more.
Girls thought him sweet
and fell at his feet goin crazy for Skeet
but his spell had no cure.
Written: February 2018
I’ve got a flat tyre.
Congratulations, hope you’ll both be very happy.
Can you fix it?
Are you going to a fancy dress party?
I’m getting married, Sherlock.
Wow, kept that quiet, who’s the poor sod.
Nigel, and I’m in a bit of a rush, so if you don’t mind.
Leave it to me, that’s what us ex’s are for. You wearing a Basque under that dress.
Is that any of your business.
Just making the usual ex’s conversation, don’t lose the garter.
Yes, it is traditional, now can you get a move on.
Can’t get the wheel off, but not to worry I’ll drive you there, wherever there is.
It’s the registry office.
Okay jump in, where’s the honeymoon.
Skegness.
You’re joking, it’s freezing in Skeggy at this time of year.
His mum died there, so it’s a sort of goodbye.
So he’s a mummy’s boy then.
He’s not a mummy’s boy, it’s just a nice thing to do.
Do you want me to walk you down the aisle?
Why the hell would I want you to walk me down the aisle, plus, there isn’t an aisle.
Just the thing ex’s do for the one they love.
Don’t you start, just get me there?
Okay, but don’t cry when I start crying.
Piss off.
Four hours later, the phone rings.
Could you come and get me?
What do you mean come and get you, you’re married?
He’s brought his mum into the bedroom.
Well you did say he’s a mummy’s boy, so he carries her ashes about, think it as something old.
She isn’t in ash form.
Jesus, tell me he didn’t get her stuffed.
She isn’t dead.
This is brilliant, only you could get married into the Münster family, send me the photos, so I can show them to the guys down the pub.
You just get down here and pick me up, this is an emergency.
Oh! I don’t know, I’m sort of liking this marriage of yours, it’s slightly weird, but in a good way.
Do you want to see what I’m wearing under this dress?
That is blackmail, will mummy in law approve of this kind of talk.
Last time, do you want to see what I’m wearing.
Bombing up the motorway as we speak.
The day has come for me to commit the ultimate act
With the voices in my head that I had formed a pact
I woke up early, had a hot shower in the dark
So my body would fell the cold as I lay in the park
I dress in my best suit perfect from head to toe
I take a bus to the spot that only My God and I know
I find the leaves and place them on the cold frosted ground
I look around to make sure no one is around
The leaves are perfect, I lie down
The ground is cold, I frown
Phew! Thought I forgot my letter, I place it on my chest
I’m almost at the end and at the beginning of my new quest
I’m looking at the willow tree
It looks rather sinister and twisted to me
Like a claw hand melted by the moon
How beautiful it looks, but this reality will be over soon
I feel this strange warmth running down to my ears
I haven’t cried for a long time, I welcome these tears
The voices, they not here, they have taken a vow of silence
Waiting to see me commit my act of violence
Clarity at last… all I can hear is my Juliet’s sweet voice
My Juliet…my mind’s best choice
I got the dagger, and put the tip a little under the solar plexus by my heart
It’s beating fast now, no time to fall apart
A noise, sh-t a man, who could this be
His casually walking toward me
I don’t need this, I’m ready to go
“Sorry to disturb you, hello”
“What do you want?”
“My name is Le’fant”
Please to meet you L’e what ever, go away”
“By all means do come back another day”
“Sorry may I join you”
“I’m here for the same reason too”
His lying next to me
Piss off and let me be
His also dressed up smart
Maybe he wants to take part.
Well at least he can do it in case I chicken out
I know he won’t mess about
“Sorry again could you read my note?”
“To make sure it’s perfect what I wrote?”
I got his note this is what it said
It’s making me feel dizzy in my head
Jingle bells
and reindeer smells --
note to Mrs. Clause:
before Eve-trip, to reduce
scent and slip, no beer
and sardines for Rudolph!
That damn Guiding Red-nose
needs to find other fuel for
his radiant beam-glows! (takes a lot
to piss-off Santa)
It was a foul dilemma:
Every time Dancer, Donner and Blitzen
rose, Santa was forced to awkwardly stretch and
pinch each tortured, dutiful nose; poor deer, eyes
stinging and runny (not the least bit funny)
(Rudolph laughing like a ridiculous fool) (Santa
thinking, next year, to take his place, perhaps a
levitating green-schnoz mule)
fumes causing the team to terribly
blink -- every inch higher, a half inch
lower the sled would breathlessly sink --
Note to Mrs. Clause: especially disallow,
one last huge, gulp for the long cold road -- that
parting toast proved particularly disastrous to Santa's
precious gift load,
when the old saint paused to
light his pipe: Rudolf let loose with
one extraordinarily ripe -- when the match was
struck, ignited the night, flaming presents needing
no additional lift to literally take brilliant flight --
A Christmas to remember
when Rudolf went on a Sardine, Beer
Bender.
Ripping words from discarded text
Grasping at letters as leaves
riddled with inherent fails fall from my hands
sick of me me memes
only as good as the words you use
sorry if i confuse
vicious in the deeds never done
lines are never under the bridge
water cringes
at our infantile opinions
Living the life
without wanting to exist
Imagine all the people
are dead
Leave john scratching his head
Sweetly sick
I raise a finger
Curse myself
Score a line through
1] Piss off God
Give myself a tick
Made myself a bucket list
simply says get a bucket
Kicking thoughts to dust
never found my trust
love replaces lust
And must is always must
Beer..your stench does draw near
Beer..oh pour off my dear
Beer..if you felt pain
I would make you sear
You draw breathe to lies
Romantic heart breaker you are
Dumber than a pack of flies
I hate you and all your lore
This wisdom and anger you cannot ignore
I'd drown you like fodder and send you to leviathans front door
Beer.
Indescribable loss
You took what was near
Beer, il drench you in my volcanic tears
Beer..
Your real name is what I really hear
Beer..your a satanic dose of da' lear
Oh beer..I will never touch you
Not even to sanitize my fear
Of what may become of me..
Of I touch that whore devil nice named beer
Come closer she says
Il take care of you ..
I say piss off because I can translate what I don't hear
Every attempt to enslave me is your own joke my dear
Ps- because i hate beer
Written By: D. Collins 1/12/26
Global PTSD is a man made creation.
Limiting the places we once took vacations.
We shouldn't visit Cancun or European cities.
Something bad could happen to our families.
There's a change in the air and not for the best.
There is a serious risk travelling outside the U.S.
This was accomplished within the course of a year.
An American passport is not welcomed anywhere.
It's impossible to tell who just might have a beef.
Since we've managed to piss off about every country.
My advice would be to stick close to home.
To avoid the negative underlying tones.