Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the category “Poetry”

Abandoned Lips

The heat lightning flashed

and the thunder rumbled

and the warm breeze

blew the curtains inward like ghosts in a strange dance

and we laid tangled

in the damp sheets

your hand on my hip

your sigh on the back of my neck

and it had all started with a kiss

one kiss

which fell on lips long since abandoned

by others




Courage abandoned me

as fear carved out my insides

it took the road less traveled

veins and arteries

devoid of blood

for my heart had long ago ceased to beat

the only rhythms of life

trapped in my head

recalling a time

when my feet knew the songs and the steps

and weren’t too afraid to dance



Flim-Flam Man

You’re a charlatan

a sham fraud fake imposter

a flim-flam man in a Ford

a peddler in false hope

your lies suspended in snake oil

to make them slide down easier

“Come one! Come all!

I’ve got just what you need”

you shout

hawking your elixir to unsuspecting women

promising results

but never delivering

Take your spiel

and your wares elsewhere

as I have no patience for a shyster

whose life is already promised to another

parading panaceas



Misery Is Terrible Company

When the pain becomes too great

and all of the old vices fail to satisfy

and you’re silently screaming for help

but it falls on deaf ears

and all the fat people are now

thinner than you

and you’re an obese cow

who no one ever wanted to buy

because you always gave the milk for free

and what that means is you’re a slut

and you’ve been used and discarded

and you’ve forgotten how to put

one foot in front of the other

so you try to talk the talk

until you can walk the walk

but you fail miserably and trip

and fall on your face

but who cares

because your front teeth had a big gap between them anyway

and you have no outer beauty left

but it was only a disguise for your inner beauty

which has now also abandoned you

and misery is your only companion

and loneliness dances in the shadows

to a tune of your own composing


Avocado Rotary Wall Phone



All my feelings have taken on a hazy effect, like my heart has forgotten how to feel strongly, and my memory can’t even recall

So I put on my galoshes and try to figure out how to wade through this game called Life, when it’s more like Monopoly and I’m always trying to rob Peter to pay Paul and Mary because the tax man cometh and he always wants more than his fair share

And all those people who promised they’d never leave me are all gone, and my avocado rotary wall phone never rings, and the pencil waits at the ready to dial a number but I’ve forgotten how to use the phone book or call information, and I didn’t really want to talk to anyone anyway

So I fill the tub with hot water and Mr. Bubble and climb in with a glass of Cold Duck and take a handful pills which are really just Smarties left over from the last Halloween, and I push the radio off the side of the tub with my toe into the water but the music just goes dead because it’s a transistor that I used to carrying around in my bike basket with the plastic flowers

And I think how the 70’s and 80’s ruined me for the 2000’s and this place sucks because our president now reminds me of numerous ex-boyfriends with tiny penises who loved to gaslight everyone and lie to themselves about being good people, when in fact they were narcissistic assholes who cared nothing for no one, and they’re raising armies of people exactly like them, influenced by social media and their need to be the center of everything

So I don’t fucking care anymore and wish the world would fuck off





I am a spoiled peach

with a pit as my vascular organ


As my body has become softened with time

my heart has become hardened


Bruises and tearing of the skin

a tome of inner vulnerability and weakness


When did the rot set in

so much putrid pulp traveling my veins and arteries


If only they’d used kid gloves

when handling me


Now leave me beneath the tree to decompose in peace

lest I contaminate the ripening fruit











Collection Agencies

My coffers are empty

because no one can count on the kindness of strangers

when it comes to paying emotional debts

morally bankrupt

the only direct deposit I can make

is the alcohol

straight into my gob hole

meant to fill my trust account

but it too

leaves me sinking

The usury of life

is too high

it’s extortion

and I’m no good at forgery and fraud

and hush money has no value

when you’re a truth teller





Roadside Memorial

Your life has been reduced

to a roadside memorial

of fake flowers bought at Dollar General

which have faded with time


considering the way you lived

bloated by too much cheap liquor

surrounded by empty Amazon boxes

and old National Geographic magazines

and weighted down by your past

For years

you tried to make it better

turn things around

but nothing ever stuck

and eventually everything spiraled

right back down the drain that was your existence

Where were those mourners when you were still alive


Tale of a Bradford



like a spring snowfall

the white flower petals of the pear trees

lie scattered in the gutter

cast off

because beauty never stays


a lion’s rage

the bough breaks

and comes crashing down

because resilience can only weather so many storms










It’s been raining steadily for hours, and we should be playing hooky and lying in bed under that old quilt my grandma made that’s worn to a softer than down finish after years of use.

But you’re not here, and I have no idea where you are because I don’t know who you are even though I think about you so much you would think I would’ve dreamed you into life by now.

So instead of cuddling and conversations, I’ll keep trudging through my work day and my life like some automaton always wanting there to be more to this mundane existence but too scared to hope for it for fear it will never exist.


Post Navigation

Sparklebumps: The Mother Version

Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.


i've choked on my words for far too long


It's not the length of life, but the depth.

My musings

This is my mind, it’s not supposed to make sense.

The Phil Factor

Where Sarcasm Gets Drunk and Lets Its Hair Down

Fighting the Myth

Shining the light of truth on delusion

The Haunted Librarian

Researching, investigating, and writing about the paranormal.


You either get it... or you don't.


Inky blackness, a yawning void ~

Eye Will Not Cry

"Eye Fly High"

The Roar Sessions

A weekly series edited by Jena Schwartz

Beth Teliho

Read. Ingest the words. Like little blue pills, they will affect you.

kirilson photography

the stories behind the pictures, and vice versa


Just my thoughts for all to behold

Book Snob


Ann Oblivion Blog

🍃 Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. 🍃

Sweet Spell

A baking and dessert blog.

Daniel Aegan

Writer, Tarot Reader, Designer

Annabel Vita

a little bit of this and a little bit of that

Even at Your Darkest

Seeking Beauty Beyond the Scars

insert witticism

The home of Emma O'Brien

shatteredtalon's Blog

The musings of a scorpion who would have been an eagle


I blog now. I know, I can't believe it either.