The Horrors of Toddlery

I saw a group of children today,

And this is the only thing I can say:

I’m never EVER gonna have ANY.

This group of parents I was watching just had WAY too many.


They’re all rude little fuckers with dirty little hands,

And listen to all those shitty kid bands.

They’re loud, and they don’t know the meaning of “No,”

When you need them to hurry they always go slow.

And when you need them to be calm, it’s like they took meth,

Instead of babysitting, I’m sure I’d much prefer death.

They’re messy and leave their toys all around,

And YOU’RE the one who has to pick them up from the ground.

They’ll take out their Playdoh and tear it into little bits,

And grind it in your carpet, and there it just sits.

They’ll spill juice on your couch — and they won’t even care –

You try to explain, but they just look at you with that dumb naïve stare.


When you try to play games, all they do is cheat,

Then they’ll run outside and track in mud with their feet.

If you ever ask them to do even something small,

Like throw something out or behave at the mall,

You can be sure that they’ll fuck it up real good,

The same exact way that an idiot would.

“But Ryan,” you say, “Not all kids are bad,

So what if they’re too dumb to subtract or add?

They’re children you see, and patience you need,

And sometimes, yes, you will have to plead

Because they just don’t know better, they’re too young to care.

Cut them some slack, lets try to be fair.”


“Fuck fairness!” I say, “I still hate them all;

I wanna gather them up and play some Dodgeball,

And I wouldn’t hold back — I’d intend to maim –

And show those fuckers what it’s like to REALLY lose at a game.”

I wanna spill juice on THEIR blankets, and get dirt on THEIR toys,

And when their asleep run into THEIR room making noise.

Give them a taste of their own medication,

Children, perhaps the world’s worst creation.

About UngerTheInfluence

Unger, (known by his first name "Ryan" to only is parents), spends his time exploring consciousness and pondering important questions like: "Why are we here?" "What's the meanng of life?" "Where's the rest of my LSD?" Always a lover, most times a dancer, never a fighter. He's morally against stress, and advocates a Zen mind. Residing right outside New York City, Unger tries his best to avoid the consumerist culture that infests Manhattan by spending his time writing vulgar poetry. Unger will tell you he finds it incredibly fascinating that poetry is the route that life has taken him.


  1. [...] Below I will show you an excerpt from the poem, but if you would like to read the entire post from, just use the link to see it. Here is just a small excerpt to give you an idea how horrible this [...]

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