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ArturVRivunov Oct 2011
Jumped into river of sorrow. . Landed myself beside tomorrow. .island
consider this world a heaven for it is what we see. . . . . .
will be all that we all remember. . .
generations passing on and building music with our sounds. .
stringing out to another. . as endless it may be, there’s never intention to bother
like bodies, minds, and hearts stepping around. . .
Fusing into a subtle tune. . . ., that makes the sense of one. .
Where anything is but happy feeling no less then weight of ton. .
For in my time there was and is the only one. . lady life. . .

I am a circumstance that but is not understood. .
What you think of image i am being,
when question is simply happiness and my way of life. . .

What hell this riding ****. .
Mind your business,  loompampa head. .
Life's pleasant knowing it's part of it. .

You think I got time for some thirty minutes. .
Of course I do. .
Because life. . .  my pace. . . . is best to stay that way. . .

unpredictable but sound . . Strung to find and meet. . all recluse stuck on beat. . . .
Likewise no need repeat impartial worries. . .

i stand and choosing to be the way I am, for if to start someone's business. . aiding , I isn’t ******* relating. . . .
not part my life of worry to masses. . .except to aid it wordly. .
with my soul and **** humanity came close to killing. . . that’s why I’m on this mic spilling. . .
To put in perspective the best my eyes do see. . .
and how they see, im blessed, to train me so. . .to feel the feeling of life's every blow
I came to this place with measure of worries. . .toiling in stories. .
now I am recluse feeling no worries. . . .

Jumped into a river of sorrow. . . .landed myself on land of today. . . ai. . .******* no way. . .
For now it’s only place I’ll keep my feet planted to stay. . . . .even as many of you haters want me to sway

Some say ******* no way. . .always stepping in crowd. . . the otherway. . .
In my future.
clear and early where all is smiling faces. . .giving each other pure embraces. . . .
to some unrealistic. . .so as to why
Some mazza fuckas do is speak from darkest of corners. . .talking ****
to each other. . . .
like one to and from the other. . .
Remorsing to boring tempers. .All just wearing your pampers. . thinking
behid.

If this hits you so hard. . Let me know and I’ll find another way to start. . .
All you mazza fuckas do is creep from darkest of corners. . .
Tending to energy far over your heads. . .always speaking down on some others. .around you. . . .

But around me, stick until your out of your breath. .
Perhaps with some others, there’s the lack of conversing because their stuck in their heads. . .

I speak from the heart when I say to you so. . .
In reason you passing such energy is nothing woooo terrific. . .
stanky breath
I ******* don't hate it. . But rather not appreciate it. . .for with my stanky breath
i push with something rather then your patience. . .


with every nation involved. . . .
i solved the problem of me,
the passion in ration of me. .
Who i am in slightest of spirit. .as humanly possible

Who is you I see. .

No matter how you blink,
how you think,
how long it takes you to evoke the senses of you, . .
You are in my sights a beautiful star. .
together we can go far. . .
Even being afar. . .ill walk to you without my car. . .
From A to A, memory. . . . From A to M family, not that far. . . .
[After C Heaven Start]
Never the less, my hands across my breast. . .flat as flat iron. . .
.I am made of iron. . . .biches always blarring their sirens. . .for what reasons. . .respiring in deep ****. . .for the day it’s what they desiren’

Killing time with  cigarettes. . . .since I was 6. . .******* biches that made me start. . . .I wish life would just make you smell it’s ****. . . . .
And find the purest of heart. . . then dwelling in smells. . .from procreated hells. . . .
Please be considerate, ***** words put together, make beautiful poetry. It is not to offend anyone in regards to being good souls, it is to distinguish our intuition of why we have hate for nonsense.
Quinn  Jan 2012
'merica
Quinn Jan 2012
i sat on my roof and screamed,
i'm gonna revolutionize this
******* world if it kills me

and my neighbors all turned
and stared, interrupted from
mowing their lawns, washing
their cars, teaching their sons
to play catch, and daughters
to go fetch their morning papers

they quickly turned away at
the realization that it was just that
crazy neighbor girl who hasn't
done **** with her four year
degree, but create a fortress
in which she hides day after day

they smell that stanky marijuana
pluming out of her window
and watch her stumble home, drunk,
listening to her sing along to the music
that the devil has surely put on this
earth to corrupt good catholics,
like the one she once was

and they shake their heads and
hold tight to their son's shoulders
and even tighter to their daughter's
hands, because maybe, just maybe
if they hold on tight enough they'll
always be dumb enough to withstand

because the masses are the winners
and this is the spoiler,
we're being taken over by cookie cutting
stepford wannabe *******,
and they're gonna ruin the world
judy smith Dec 2015
As a Sports Illustrated model it's no secret that she has the ability to turn heads.

So as Hannah Ferguson marked day 30 of LOVE magazine's video advent she did so in smouldering fashion to ensure her debut was not easily forgotten.

Showing off her moves to the sound of Drake's Hotline Bling, the 23-year-old owned the shoot as she cavorted in a slashed corset dress.

Whipping her hair back and forth, Ferguson appeared to forego underwear beneath the daring form fitted number.

Becoming the definition of sensual, a pair of sheer stockings and Giuseppe Zanotti black patent leather lace-up stilettos completed the cover girl's look.

With her hair worn in its natural state, the beautiful blonde's striking blue eyes are lined with kohl liner while her pout is coated in a shade of **** lipstick.

Preened to perfection, the two minute clip is formatted in slow motion as the Texan beauty, who resides in the Big Apple, seductively gyrated on the floor.

In the film Hannah also displays her comical side as she flashed her pearly white while attempting to do the 'Stanky Leg' dance.

Ferguson's debut sees her join the likes of Kendall Jenner, Cara Delevingne, Rita Ora and Adriana Lima who all featured in the 2015 edition of the online countdown to the new year.

The LOVE magazine advent calendar, now in its fifth year, has seen an influx of 8.2 million views since launching on December 1.

read more:http://www.marieaustralia.com

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
CynQuavia Sep 2011
I now realized why I was so weak and my
tears were so sweet
Because of you
I act the way i do
no cure to my needs
I do is weep weep weep
and do you care to see me sleep
I dont need you looking at my face and lying to me
I dont need you trynna upset me
Cause you are foolish and weak
trynna sell dugs
just like a ****
Boo Hoo
No tears in theses eyes or dont you care to ?
boo hoo to you and to all your kids that wanna be you
You stanky rachet dope selling fool!
And I dont need you
Thomas  Dec 2015
Screw Job
Thomas Dec 2015
Part One

One day while in high school (am now out of college) I, Mattias,
went over to my best friend Joey's house. When I got there, as
usual, he was working; he's a nut job, or better known as a handy
man during the summer, but keeps up the big old house where Joey's
family, (Mom, Dad, five daughters and one son, Joey, the youngest) eat, sleep, and amortize the dwelling mercilessly where it's in
constant need of maintenance. e.g.: 5 girls, all girly girls and
their mother = 6 females, copious use of the room where one
rests (rest room), an enormous amount of toilet paper with all
that other female stuff that is jettisoned down the commode.
This impaction desperately attempts to navigate an old, cast iron,
privately owned (not city) sewer line and sewage system.

So one can see,
and smell, huge problems, almost daily. Btw: they have five
bathrooms. One can only connect the dots to each one of
these strategic stink-bomb sites and see a pungent, pontifical,  stanky  mess on their hands. Half the time a
bathroom is cordoned off with yellow tape, like, where's
the detective? A crime has been committed in this bathroom
by a bunch of
females.
Strangely enough, the olfaction in this old castle didn't seem to
bother these girls. As long as it was their crap, all mixed together,
they all are of the same bloodline, who cares? It was almost as
if they liked the smell, since it was theirs. It was creepy, but
these girls were so good looking it didn't matter to me. Joey
would laugh as he could see how I was enamored with them all.
Yeah, I didn't mind hanging at Joey's house. His sisters:
their beauty; was through
the roof. They were cool
inside too!

So Joey is pretty indispensable in their household. He has tons
of other jobs, paid ones, to perform, but maintaining the five
bathrooms for these girls and the two men of the household was
a full time non-profit summer job, except for expenses; how quaint?

Part Two

This one particular day I stop over,
                                                       like I do almost daily; cut
through the open garage to their entry.
                                                       Joey knew I was coming
so both glass and fire door were unlocked.
                                                       ­ I walk in, shut the latch
to the glass door and saunter straight
                                                        ­into the Kitchen and
see Joey fishing through his junk drawer
                                                        se­arching for a bolt. He
said he was working on the plumbing in
                                                        one of the bathrooms.

The next thing I know, one of the neighbors in the culdesac of
which they live, Mrs. Turigliato, knocks on the door and tries to
open it but the latch is locked. The old fire door was open, so I
could see her. I waved and walked over to open the glass door.
Says Mrs. T, “Oh hi Mattias.” I reply “Hello Mam.”

She locomotes by me with coffee
in one hand, cream and sugar dripping
on her robe and coffee droplets free-falling
onto the VA tile floor with little splatters.

A tiny planet is being hit
by mini nuclear bombs, yikes!

She approaches Joey; he's scrambling and rummaging
through their seriously versatile junk drawer for the
right size bolt to perform surgery in one of the rooms
with a bath (bathroom). She cackles,
“Hi Joey, whatcha looking for?”

Part Three

Stop here a sec!**

If Joey would have said “I'm looking for a bolt” this story
would be over. In fact, there would be no story except a big house
with a sick septic tank on private property not run by the city.
Instead, he says “I'm looking for a *****?” While we both
(Joey & I ) might have quietly chuckled, Mrs. T's response
was a bit more than I could handle at this delicate age. Says Mrs.
Turigliato, “Go see Trudy, she will give you a *****.” Trudy was
our age, Mrs. T's daughter, and she was hot, but this was too much,
my abs were killing me. It doesn't end there:

Our mouths are tongued tied shut; taut. Unbelievably, Mrs. T
presses on;

“I'm serious Joey. Go, right now, and get a ***** from Trudy.”

At this point we were holding it in, suffocating, choking, yearning
for oxygen. Eggs and bacon started to make their way up my throat. I couldn't take this. We both quietly gather some air.
Not a ******* word from Joey or I,
Mrs. T is on an oblivious roll:

“Don't you want to get a ***** from Trudy, Joey?”

I can only imagine poor Joey's mind, thinking “Yes Mrs. T, but not the type ***** you're thinking about.”

We stay quiet, not a word..... then the miracle. Joey says “I found the right bolt.”
Hearing the word bolt and not ***** evoked an inquisitive, clueless, look from Mrs. T, her painted and pointed brows scrunching up and taking on new formations, but out came no words. She turned around and waved good bye, never saying why she came over or what she needed. Joey's Mom wasn't home but Mrs. T didn't even ask or say what she wanted. Strange ****.

Conclusion

Being a few years later, Joey and I still laugh our **** off when one of us tells this story. Even at parties, dudes and girls go nuts. Maybe some day it will be one of those “you would have had to be there” stories to maintain its staying power, but so far both Joey and I have gotten dates from girls at parties after we tell this story. I guess they like something about it. That's cool with me. Mattias is my name, and my best friend is Joey.
________
Fictional narrative prose based on a true story.  I know it's a bit long but I hope you hang in there to read it all and enjoy it as well.  Thomas
g clair  Mar 2014
whining eyes
g clair Mar 2014
he waved her down to where he stood
but lost her in the neighborhood
of several hundred thousand other people
and by the time she found him there
his drink was lost, she couldn't care
she stood there drenched in sweat beneath the steeple

whining eyes,
like her mother
he never knew it, but she cries
like no other
he'll see her through it
'til she dies
oh no~

and never mind the dusty ground
with legs to watch, and Stanky Brown
is dragging through his medley, nasty fella
next time, carry her own chair
and iced cold water, put it there
a shady spot, not hot, beneath the 'brella

whining eyes,
like her mother
he never knew it, but she cries
like no other
he'll see her through it
'til she dies
oh no~

it's better now, she doesn't care, he'll find her here, or meet her where
the mist is cool, and nearer to the porties
she only wants to find her place, a laggard in the human race
and rather cold, she's old, for in her forties

whining eyes,
like her mother
he never knew it, but she cries
like no other
he'll see her through it
'til she dies

(bridge)

sometimes it takes you years to learn the smartest way is not to burn
though some folks like to hang out in the trenches
next time she will plan ahead and carry her own banner head and wave it high above the other wenches

these whining eyes,
like my mother
I never knew it,
but
she cries
like no other
I'll see her through it
'til she dies
oh no
With Mike at Austin City Limits, 2005. Average temp 106 degrees.
g clair  Nov 2015
whining eyes
g clair Nov 2015
he waved her down to where he stood
but lost her in the neighborhood
of several hundred thousand other people
and by the time she found him there
his drink was lost, she couldn't care
she stood there drenched in sweat beneath the steeple

and never mind the dusty ground
with legs to watch, and Stanky Brown
is dragging through his medley, nasty fella
next time, carry her own chair
and iced cold water, put it there
a shady spot, not hot, beneath the 'brella

whining eyes,
like her mother
he never knew it, but she cries
like no other
he'll see her through it
'til she dies
oh no~

it's better now, she doesn't care, he'll find her here, or meet her where
the mist is cool, and nearer to the porties
she only wants to find her place, a laggard in the human race
and rather cold, she's old, for in her forties

sometimes it takes you years to learn the smartest way is not to burn
though some folks like to hang out in the trenches
next time she will plan ahead and carry her own banner head and wave it high above the other wenches

these whining eyes,
like my mother
I never knew it,
but
she cries
like no other
I'll see her through it
'til she dies
oh no

— The End —