Dim and Glum
A dark and surreal doggerel exploring a state of misanthropy and despair. This poem uses grotesque imagery and profane humor to paint a picture of a world filled with fools, backstabbers, and personal torment.
7/30/2025
Dim and glum, balls small plum,
The men are spineless fools.
Generally the generation segregated,
By prey and those with the preying tools.
Dim and glum, fuck your mum,
Cum on her face—that fat sticky surface.
Or fuck your father, father's mother too,
Turn your house into a whoring place!
Fuck's the fool's feckless father I know,
City of joy is actually a city of rape,
Shit is what pours out when I open my yap,
But jocular is the meat in the jape.
I am myself an old waste of time,
A bengali whore of a rabid gent.
Talking to lice from pubes, worms in tubes,
Talk to them on a toilet paper spent.
I mean they have a pivot point,
After all they see my point of view.
Just more viscerally closer,
The world of vomit I have to spew.
I shit a turd, ball like bird,
A most monstrous thing in a flick.
It spoke—it said—"bitch can't you see,"
I'm that uncooked cornish chick.
Flustered I, flushed the fucking fry,
Saw it flail its dumb uncooked wings.
I must not order from this tandoori,
Shit hell fire on me if it brings.
No peace in head, worried half dead,
The worms crawling over my naked skin.
Can't say no, don't know where to go,
Backstabbing kith and fucking kin.
It's a bloody ass gape, sealed with tape,
Don't fuck with holy holes with me cunt.
Shit fuck shock, not a hen but its cock,
I don't do men or anus I have to be blunt.
So now I am dim again more glum,
There's drops of diarrhea and drool.
Come on now I decide to fuck a hen,
To rape a cloaca with my tool.