Tag Archives: Bad poetry

Cruel Fickle Fate

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Haa, this is pretty cringey. I must’ve been around fourteen when I wrote it? I even thought it was passable when I reread it a few years ago. Now it pains me… oh, so much. That’s proof of how much I’ve learned.

Enjoy.

 

 

I first noticed your gait, and your carriage, your state

Then the look in your eyes took me right by surprise.

I knew not fickle Fate had been lying in wait

Creeping silently nigh, telling love to arise

 

When I realized what happened, I was far too late

I was caught in the clutches of cruel fickle Fate

In hindsight, my life grew gradually towards you

But I saw it not, no, naught I saw ‘til ‘twas through.

 

Years of calluses cut in a single, swift blow

How did I let it happen? I simply don’t know

But I cherished your care, you’re still dearer than air

Though you’re now underground, now I drown without you.

 

I followed, thou led — O cruel fickle Fate!

Thou’d said we would wed — O God, now this hate!

Thou’d left me for dead — I wept, thou unmoved

I watched as thou bled — how dearly I’d loved!

 

You know I still love thee, Beloved, Unlovéd

I know you’re above me, Unlovéd, Beloved

You hurt me, I hate thee, Beloved, Unlovéd

I’ll never forgive thee, Unlovéd, Beloved

Why did you leave me,  Beloved, Unlovéd

I had to revenge me, Unlovéd, Beloved

Murder isn’t easy,  Beloved, Unlovéd

Why’d you make me hurt thee? Unlovéd, Beloved

I’m torn in between me —  Beloved, Unlovéd

I love thee, I hate thee — Unlovéd, Beloved

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bits and Pieces 3

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Little bits and pieces of poems which didn’t make the cut for one reason or another, but which I like too much not to post.

 

 

I need sleep.
I need a run.
I need food.
I need happiness
I need a bucket of water
To wet down this
Paper construction life.

 

 

Touch me green
Get your fucking hands off of me.
Touch me black
You stay three feet back.
Touch me red
I will wring your neck.
Touch me purple
Leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Touch me yellow
It’s almost right but not quite.
Touch me blue
You. You. You.

 

 

Whirling florating colors
A hickory tree
Something sustainable
A light wind
And in blows kudzu
Invasive, edible
Too much for us
We prefer beef
So we watch our roadsides die.

 

 

Kiss me kindly
Delicately
Like marzipan
Like frangipani
Like gelato
I want to taste
Your magic motion
I want to feel
The things you think
I want to smell
Your expressions.
What scent are you expressing now?
Yes.
Express it in my direction.
Please.

 

 

Cold cream
Ice cream
Wet milk
Butter.
Cheese
All the cheese
As many strains of cheese
As there are molds
As many molds
As there are humans to eat them.
Cheese.

 

 

We can’t play
On the old tire swing anymore.
Somebody’s fat ass broke it.
We can’t sing
The old songs anymore
They’re no longer allowed.
This is what it is to grow up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hat Tricks, etc

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every person is a joy
…to varying degrees

 

 

Contrary to my reputation, I am actually very likable.

 

 

Every day when she comes in she does a new hat trick

In an effort to make the receptionist smile

All tricks are met with stony faces

The tricks get more and more extravagant

She acquires a cane

She throws ten, twenty feet high

She bows

She draws a few spectators, regulars every morning to watch the trick

But never does she draw a smile from her target

One day she doesn’t come in

Another second day passes, she won’t answer the phone

They call the police

Who break in to find her

Wrists slit

Two days dead.

When the receptionist hears,

All she has to say is

“I knew she was fucking crazy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walking Absurdities

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It’s been one of those days when everyone seems to be having a rough time of it, except for me.

Maybe this will help lighten the mood.

 

 

What are we made of?
What is this puttylike substance?
Doesn’t anybody notice
We are ridiculous.
All stretchy faces and brightly colored insides
With two bright eyeballs in front
A wide mouth below
And the nose!
An absurd protuberance
Set far outward
So you can stick your shelf nose right over stuff
And vacuum up smells.
We’re not God’s finest work.
We’re awkward creations.
We’re the hairless cats of primates.
When excited, we bray laughter.
When we age our teeth fall out, our skin gets baggy.
We wallop each other with closed fists
And break our silly noses
Right across our stretchy faces.

Our trunks split into limbs split into digits
Which splay and wiggle and toy with things
Which pick and slap and pop zits.
Our toes are stubby.
And we do stub them,
Repeatedly.
Sometimes we break them repeatedly,
Through stubbing alone.
Sometimes they break
Because we collided with another clumsy person
Who accidentally landed on them.
Sometimes we break them
Because we were moving a couch,
Filling a nest with worthless treasures
We found and attached value to,
Which we then dropped on our foot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Simple Things

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This is kind of silly. I barely remember writing it.

 

 

Life is a cold flowing
Unassuming
Concatenation of lifestyle choices.
We mindlessly move
In the direction
In which we were pointed.
Is there more?
Who cares?
We can feel the wind
We can see the green
We can laugh
We can chew
We can do anything.
There is hot tea
And warm cats
And somebody to fill your water bottle.
There are toilets to pee in
Women to love
Men to admire
And creepy dolls to burn.
There are books to read
Books to write
But maybe I won’t start tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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