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Johnny walker Dec 2018
For I'm old and can longer
lay beneath the darkening skies as done when I was young to gaze upon the wondrous stars
cast
within an Inky black sky laid upon cold frozen ground wrapped In warm snug sleeping bag watching aeroplanes fly  beneath the stars, off to warmer climates Imagine people on board stairing from there plane windows can they see me like I see them, where Is their destination and to where will they be this time tomorrow, I drift
to sleep free from the pressures of life to sleep amongst the
stars
When young I would lay In a sleeping bag laid upon the cold underneath the star
Alfredo Alfresco was born
In tesco's,
Right by the self service
Checkout.
It's an act from beyond.
(God's always been, well,
A bit peroxide blonde)
As to why,we haven't
Enough much information
To say.
After all, meanings can
Move in a mysterious way.
Donna Jun 2017
With long sandy hair
and denim frayed skirt , ocean
wears fishy knickers
Haha did I just post this ohjeez :) it sure don't relate to me , just my sense of humour gets better of me lol
Laters everyone x
Viseract Jul 2016
When you knock the side of your head,
Is anyone home?
Or is the only response
That dull echo?

As dull and as thick as the ******* who owns it
Buys his comments from others, yeah you loan it
You know it's ****** how I can't even be myself
In virtual reality without being picked on by someone else?!

Do I really threaten you by being an up-and-comer?
Do you run home to your basement, just to tell your mother?
******* your thumb and ******* cousins to forget your troubles
But it never works, I'm always here, you daft mother-******!

I'm a mother ******* ghost and I'mma haunt your soul
Turn stupidity to comedy and swallow it all whole
Make it fresh content, regardless of the consequence
Til you leave me alone, ******, and let me be myself!

You know nothing about me, do they call you Jon Snow?
You know nothing *****, so pack your bags and catch the last bus home
You're just embarrassing yourself, you're a laughing stock
Look at all the comments I made telling you to go **** yourself!

Do you see me now, huh? Am I what you expected?
That "woof *****" who by being himself got himself rejected?
Why can't you appreciate others man, and stop being your lack of brains' slave
And give this **** up before I contemplate digging your grave
Yeah, see what I mean? I'm just gonna keep turning it into content. You seem hell-bent on making me successful, and giving me more to write about.... as one poet to another, thanks! XD
Oh my dear Hubcap !
for you I fear!
Laying here;
resting on a roadside,
Torn from your kin.
Subject to mother nature's
weatherly whim.
Your once grey metallic
reflective brilliance,
turned dour by
creeping oxidisation.
That fate gave
a deliberate curse
is clear.
Oh my dear Hubcap!
for you I fear!
Petal pie Aug 2014
Bazooka that veruka
Wage war on your warts
Charge the canons against corns 
And ills of other sorts

Conscript regiments of Rennies
Antacid to supress indigestion 
Establish naval fleets  
Of fisherman friends sweets 
To banish nasal congestion

smear your chest with Vick
To ensure victory is quick
And if headaches ensue
Aspirin will win and subdue

If your enemy is constipation
Let  senna be your friend 
And if your throat is sore
Let strepsils make swift amends 

Show viruses they're not  welcome
Fight back with all your might
Give germs no easy terms
And soon you'll feel alright!
I've been thinking about world war one starting as today, my birthday its one Hundred years since the war was declared. Then I was helping my son with his veruka and this came to mind x
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Your colors are so heavy, how dare I, I cannot sleep. Years inundated under, through skin coils, marigold fields. Yellow crocuses, orange California poppies. Moors of cattle ranchers, yokes of oxen. Plasticine uber-confidence, silky white-skinned testubular thrice people harmonies. Blisses of contagion, contagious bliss. Wrists and incisors, tying down in a bedroom, waking up to live harps and choruses. You dance like you're so alive, but I'm so alive I can't dance. Or breathe. Or knead my fists of earthen wears, or sell my soul completely. I drove off a cliff last night, but the four foot fall ended neatly. The plateau authors my chance to sew my bright, beyond- my fortunes. But the hour before I fall asleep, seems to be the greatest torture.
Äŧül Apr 2014
A display of deft actions is only so
good up to that hour of realization
after a hostile event of failure
that any more such efforts will go
in vain and would surely cause
remorseful tears to escape from
your dark pearly eyes in future

So be deft enough to study well
but don't be daft enough buddy
mouth gaping stupidly at all the
results having gone awry later...
My HP Poem #608
©Atul Kaushal

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