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Cockroach,  Cockroach , what are you doing in my soup,
In the kitchen I was playing hoop la hoop,
And I fell in you soup mister,
It's hot and I am getting blisters,
Scoop me with your spoon,
Before I swoon.
Please don't shout or scream,
I will be thrown out of the kitchen of my dream,
Filthy and messy,
With rotten fish, slimy and smelly,
Red meat in blood,
And fungi on sauces and salads with mould,
Never scrubbed,the kitchen,
For thousands of us it's heaven.
Be a pal,
Go away with your gal,
At least I did you a favour,
Not eating in this yucky place forever.
chitragupta Mar 31
As children,
playing outside
to our hearts' content
was only when
we came home filthy

As society,
then why must we
clean up our act
and turn a blind eye
to censorship?

Remembering George Carlin and his comedy.

"Better a witty fool than a foolish wit."
-Feste, Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare
Ciel Dec 2018
One syllable.
Three letters.
Such a simple word.

Why then does it have such an immense power?
The power to break people.
The power to annihilate.

It rips children from their parents,
Tears lovers from each others’ arms.
It steals our youth
And smears our last days.
It divides the most united people,
Destroys the most beautiful of countries.

It is the greatest of hypocrites.
Some claim to fight for their countries,
Some for their oh-so-loving religion,
And others for their family's honour,
But all are driven by none other
than their own poisonous ego and pride.
And if not the individual,
The government sending them
To their certain demise is.

It kills most,
And those who escape it
Are left with a fate far worse than death:
An eternity of guilty sorrow,
Of agonizing memories
And restless nights
Wondering what could have been.

And the greatest of its crimes:
The innocent pay the highest price.

It is filthy, corrupted and tainted.
Tainted with the crimson blood of the fallen,
The deep scars of the survivors,
The shrill cries of the mourners,
And the money of those in power.

One syllable,
Three letters,
Just a word.
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2018
As a slob, I see no reason to pick up my own messes.
I’d rather just sit amongst my problems
allowing them to marinate
in a puddle of negativity and self-hatred.
I’m such a pathetic slob.
A mess.
A disgusting freak just
bathing in my own
filth and *******.
Decaying along with
my grime and trash.
Sara Kellie Jul 2018
She's spent all the rent on
cigarettes and cider,
so pull out your **** and put
it inside her.
No need to bring your polished game,
for this one's a **** and that
is her name.
In her **** or up her ***.
The choice is yours,
where d'ya wanna ***?
Say "You ******' ****, get down on all fours, 'cause this is how I **** little ******!
Impale her on your hardened stick and explode inside her, creamy and thick.
Bangin' her *******,
it used to be tight.
It's not anymore,
it gets wider each night.
Then when you're done,
wipe the rest up her back,
letting her know most got
shot up her crack.
Next week she'll be suckin',
an appetizer before ******'
This **** she don't care,
for a TGirl with red hair.

Poetry by Kaydee.
Just a creative imagination, I guess.
Eslam Dabank Jun 2018
"Vanish with me,in the glass of Misery
Come along, fill my heart with love, and see
See the things, that love can bring for us, easily"
Isn't that what you once whispered to me?

A night was gone, and the love was grown
In me, I sense somthing That shouldn't be
What I've done, must be burried under my skin
The guilt I carry, is so **** heavy, no it won't be there again.

I ran to see the Saint,to erase the sin I made
I cried and cried, after the birth of my hate
I'm now the person I thought I'll never create
Coming across a man, changes the written fate
And the star in the sky, thinks it's quiet late

How can you know, the one behind the viel
If you, in the loving eyes of the lover,sail?
The truth was always there,But love blocks the mail
So, the sea of beauty makes you always fail
And turns that life, into something frail

The kiss upon you, will always remind you
That the one who knows you best, did it too
the cries of you, won't wipe away the love we knew
Depression,I see it drawn on you, take of that portrait of blue
Tear that page we drew, say goodbye to the woman you desire
A bird could't live a bear, so away it flew
Nomathemba May 2018
He came in looking like prince charming
Sold me dreams
Made me feel young again

Oh mama
He touched me

I could hear him breathe so heavily
I could feel his weight suffocating me
His filthy hands were on my body
When he was done, he chuckled
Gave a satisfied look
I turned away
Face wet with tears
A scream of cry came out
Instantly, he gave me
A daring look
And told me to hush little one
Fore he did me a favor

Oh mama
He hurt me so bad

Disgusted with myself
Walking around
And every man looks like him
Filled with anger
Burning desire for revenge
But instead
I was told to
Hush little one and to
Never speak of it ever again.
I realized that so many women are victims of **** and speaking about it is hard. I've seen women around me feel embarrassed and the amount of scars they carry everyday because of what happened to them; I decided to put myself in their shoes to try to capture the emotion behind such a disgusting and absurd transgression and wrote this.
mythie Apr 2018
An angel cloaked in black.
A crystalised sinner.

But I watch over a pure being.
Someone who can't be dirtied.
Not by filth or other humans.
A completely clean entity.

I wish for revenge against God.
The cruel God who abandoned me.
Who reinforced rules.
That only help him in the end.

So I combine my filthy soul.
With a clean vessel.
Me and the purity.
We become one.

A sinner cloaked in black.
A venomous angel.
about an oc of mine.
Seema Nov 2017
Hungry filthy eyes
From every corner
It spies

Lustful desire ignition
Hardly any blinks
Sparks temptation

The growth of hunger
On youthful body
Deludes my anger

It hunts upon everyone
Especially the feminines
Carrying a gun

Streets pollute such eyes
Some cross, some straight
Most full with lies

Each day my eye meets
Such perverts
With viciously lustrous greets...

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