I hate these horrible hate poems
the plate of life which I be knowing
with haste let go so I start going
a taste untasty displacing gurgling
frustrate at mates I be showing
fluctuating unflexed and flowing
I hate these horrible hate poems
Categories:
untasty, hate,
Form: Rhyme
I am broken glass
waiting to pierce your feet
To bloody you up and see your pain
For I am in so much
I want to spread it around
I am on fire, my teeth are sad.
My gums hurt, and I want to share this
with thousands of others
Wailing is what I am doing now
for shingles has consumed my body
My ankles are thick, my throat sore
Food comes back up,
in an untasty way.
I am broken, I have been stepped on.
Kicked to the curb, I lie in wait,
for you
But dare you come?
I would not if I had a choice
God did not deem that for me.
Choosing for me.
Which causes me anguish
Comes out as wheezing
The wind comes through, trying to sooth
but my mind is set against all hope
I am broken glass, waiting to pierce your feet.
Categories:
untasty, sick,
Form: Dramatic Monologue
Me and her
We met, we loved
I never felt love like this before
My eyes blazed when I saw hers
Sinewy connection among our souls
To eternity, forever
And she left me…
She actually just called me
That cold winter evening
A bottomless pit opened up
Few days before Christmas
Unhappy happiness
I’m sitting here on the plaid couch
My look reflects my soul
It chills the temperature down
Coughing roams trough other rooms
Untasty sound of sickness
Sickness and sickness
I feel like puking
Puking tears and sorrow
But Christmas is coming
Smile for others
Smile for the camera
Snapchat and selfies
One day is gone
The next one is devouring me
Pain is hungry
The week hasn’t even started yet
I let myself fall
Fall with no expectation
I see light at the end of the dull tunnel
It must help me
My only redemption
Step by step I reach closer
Contours of my savior appear
Let’s take a look at the shiny figure
Oh! It’s me!
Categories:
untasty, anxiety, lost love, love,
Form: Prose Poetry
The lowly turnip
Earthy, fleshy
Roots falling from its eyes
Fed to livestock
One of God’s root crops
Yet deemed untasty
By most palates
Carrots and potatoes
Receive accolades
Carrots in orange party dress
So crunchy and sweet
Fit in the school child’s lunch box
Potatoes in russet brown
Mashed, fried and frittered
Prized alongside McDonalds and Kentucky Fried
Do not despair, my friend,
Not all root crops
Are valued similarly
Said the rutabaga disparagingly
Categories:
untasty, judgement, silly,
Form: Limerick