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Auroleus Oct 2012
Hurricane Sandy you sure are a dandy,
What with your winds and your rain.
Your pandemic endeavor is truly a pleasure
To watch, but for many a pain.

Oh Hurricane Sandy, sweeter than candy,
Wash it all down, down the drain.
We'll clean up the mess and invest in the best
Infrastructure and buildings and brains.

Hurricane Sandy won't you come in handy,
My country's gone ******* insane.
This phony election's in need of correction-
Just wash it all down, down the drain.
Auroleus Oct 2012
I listen to this music when I have ******* with prostitutes.
At first they're like "*** is this?"
Then later they tell me "it's beautiful," and I say to them,
"I know.  I bet you wish you were that beautiful."
We both then laugh and she charges me full price.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGRO05WcNDk
Auroleus Oct 2012
If I should die before I wake
I'd like for you to bake a cake
Auroleus Oct 2012
Jesus Sweet Jesus
Wherefore art thou Jesus?
I'm starting to think you're a
Story to please us.
Your morals designed
By a horrible mind
Whose only desire's to
Keep us in line.

Jesus Sweet Jesus
Wherefore art thou Jesus?
Can you see where your book
And your prophets will lead us?
Since Father has blessed us
With rational minds
We've no longer the use
For irrational binds.

Jesus Sweet Jesus
Wherefore art thou Jesus?
Was it a mistake
For your Father to breed us?
He made us unstable
Yet able and brave
To disable the fable
Creating His grave.
Happy Birthday Nietzsche.
Auroleus Oct 2012
Yeah,
I could smile,
But you don't look at
A person's mouth
When they smile -
You look them in
The eyes -
And mine would tell you
That I just don't feel like
******* smiling.
Auroleus Oct 2012
I remove my shoes beside my bed;
Morning comes,
I trip and fall
And bust my head.
What a terrible place for shoes!

Evening comes and I sit down in my room
After working like a ******* idiot slave.
I remove my shoes,
But I feel the pain...
So I throw my shoes across the room.
Morning comes again;
I make my way to the bathroom
And before I know anything
I'm on the ground.
What a terrible place for shoes!

The day drags on as
Headaches and embarrassment
Follow me around throughout my daily adventures.
They laugh at me and grind my cells
So I take a few vicodin.
The day comes to an end and
In my opiated stupor
I remove my shoes and
Leave them by my bedside
Once again.
Morning comes
And I'm on the ground
For the third time.

This is it.
I've had enough.
No more ******* shoes
In the house.
I train myself to leave
All shoes in the front hall.
This should do the trick.
I wake up the next morning
And all the shoes are gone!
Christ... I must have forgotten to
Lock the front door.
**** kids...
This could be a lovely children's piece sans-profanity!
Also, writing this poem as actually helped me stop leaving my **** shoes in the middle of my room or beside my bed.
Auroleus Oct 2012
Waiting for the next one to softly soothe my mind.
Waiting for the next one, they're awfully hard to find.
Waiting for the next one, they show up in my dreams.
Waiting for the next one, it's sadly how it seems.

Waiting for the next one to crush up into powder.
Waiting for the next one to hush up voices louder.
Waiting for the next one to shove aside my goals.
Waiting for the next one to toss me on the coals.
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