Crap Poems: 3 / 500

Message

Rating: 3.2

Jill. Fred phoned. He can't make tonight.
He said he'd call again, as soon as poss.
I said (on your behalf) OK, no sweat.
He said to tell you he was fine,
Only the crap, he said, you know, it sticks,
The crap you have to fight.
You're sometimes nothing but a walking shithouse.

I was well acquainted with the pong myself,
I told him, and I counselled calm.
Don't let the fuckers get you down,
Take the lid off the kettle a couple of minutes,
Go on the town, burn someone to death,
Find another tart, giver her some hammer,
Live while you're young, until it palls,
Kick the first blind man you meet in the balls.

Anyway he'll call again.

I'll be back in time for tea.

Your loving mother.

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Dr Antony Theodore 04 August 2018

lovely poem dear poet. tony

0 0 Reply
Susan Williams 04 August 2017

well.... uh.... the last line made me laugh- - -so did the comment by Robert Murray Smith below

1 0 Reply
Kumarmani Mahakul 04 August 2017

Beautiful poem with stunning depiction. I appriciate it. (Report)

0 0 Reply
Kumarmani Mahakul 04 August 2017

Beautiful poem with stunning deliction. I appriciate it.

0 0 Reply
Bernard F. Asuncion 04 August 2017

A nice and awesome poem... Thank you so much...

0 0 Reply