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Mark Oct 2019
Barnyard ****, just raised a city born, sort of a chick    
Even gave her the surburban name of Sandra Dee Fonda
A pretty slow blonde critter, some even say, short of a tick      
Bred way-down and far-away, ‘bout 70 miles yonder            
Y’all be knowing dat Hick-Hop thang, is what it‘s all about            
While hootin’ and scootin’, never let ya kissin’ cousin, flake out
Hee Haw, said it all, when we were a pickin’ and a grinnin’
Ask Goober, what’s dat ya doin’ and what’s dat ya diggin’?  
 
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon            
Cowards never really stay around here long enough             
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli      
         
I’ve been invited to the Marty Party, along with Brother Brown
But, I thought killing a man, was my one and only, speciality
Even drafted a business proposition, for this exact locality
Since I’ve had the market cornered, in da middle of downtown
From Cornfield, Alabama to Deadwood, South Dakota            
There’s no import or export taxes, so no **** amount of quota
So, me, you and even that Clay Ellison, will be riding a winner
Even after killin’ that Chunk Kolbert, straight after his dinner  
 
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon
Cowards never really stay around here long enough
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli        
           
They’ll be gettin’ da same amount of ice, as Knoxville            
But the rich will be a gettin’ it, in da summertime            
While the poor will be a gettin’ it, in da wintertime            
If I owned Texas & Hell, I’d rent out Texas & live in Hell            
So, don’t ever think about, hittin’ ya mother with a shovel            
It’ll leave a dull impression on her already fragile mind            
I’m not afraid to die, as a brave man fighting shall            
But I wouldn’t wanna be killed, like a dog unarmed, so please be kind            
           
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon
Cowards never really stay around here long enough
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli            
           
I see a good many enemies around me, who will walk            
But notice mighty few friends, that are willing to talk            
They would then, drink right smart            
They could then, scrap right smart            
But, I didn’t come here to talk, I just came here to hang            
Just a peekin’ through, the hour glass thang  
 
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon
Cowards never really stay around here long enough
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli.
larni Sep 2019
get you a lover
who takes your favourite song
and rewrites the lyrics
into a love song about your relationship
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2019
(Song)
.
She took the flower that she loved,
Planted him in the burning sun,
A desert formed around and the morning dew,
Were tears the flower cried,
It nearly died.

She took the flower that she loved,
Brought him near, into her house,
Her house was cold and dry, with no light to see,
The flower could not leave,
It nearly died.

She took the flower that she loved,
Found the place where he belonged,
Without walls, in shade of sunshine, where flowers bloom,
In peace they bear no pain,
And rarely die.
.
TheIdleOwl Sep 2019
49
I saw you on the wooden bridge,
Staring at the sky,
The small fish below jumping in and out,
As if your tears had made them fly,

I walked a little closer,
Heard the birds up in the trees,
What worries do you have I thought,
Your lives are such a breeze,

I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused,
I'd like to rebuild what I've destroyed,

I stopped suddenly,
Worried I was close enough to be heard,
I wasn't ready to talk about it,
My thoughts were still with the birds,

I'll come back in a week or so,
I hope that you'll be here.
Perhaps I'll be ready to say these things,
To finally make it clear,

I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused,
I'd like to rebuild what I've destroyed,

A fair while later,
I finally built up the courage to speak,
I walked up to the bridge again,
Same time, same day of the week,

But stood there was a different person,
I was sure it wasn't you,
She threw bread in for the ducks,
She had bright red shoes,

I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused,
I'd like to rebuild what I've destroyed
Brody Blue Aug 2019
Slay the lion, slay the hydra,
Take away the hind’s horn,
For the fourth one, bag a boar,
Clean the stables  till you’re sore.
Give your word to slay the birds,
Swear to tame that cretan bull,
Ride the mares plum out of fuel,
And grip a little lighter the hip of Hippolyta,
Grab the girdle, jump the hurdle,
Steal the cattle from the fool,
And pray the beast won’t get the feast
He wishes of your skull.
And even if the apples
Aren’t as gold as ones you've known,
Never mind! Cut the vine!
Reap! Before that Titan goes!
But that distant thunder rolling
And the lightning all around,
Let it part before you start
Toward the triple-headed hound.
A song about labor.
Hazel Aug 2019
De spørger om alle mine digte er om dig?
Jeg svare altid nej, men det er de måske lidt alligevel...
Men mest om mig selv, mest om mig selv dengang jeg var med dig. Mest om mig og mig selv og om dig og om hvordan du gjorde mig kantet og skarp.
Handler det om ham? Hvem ham, svare jeg? De griner, for de ved godt at jeg ved hvad de mener. De mener ham der bringer mine tanker i kog, ham der udkogte og udkørte og dæmpede mig, og dampede ud over alles forventninger, for bare at få en dråbe accept på sig. Ham der ikke tror han er god nok, men god nok til at fortælle at andre er gode nok, når han har brug for at få af vide at han god nok, og flot nok og høj nok, og....Ja. Det er nok ham, og hvad så, hvis det passer mig at skrive om en spasser, der har kastet mig, ind og ud af hjertekar, ind i en blindgyde, af blinde svar?
De spørger om alle mine digte er om dig?
Nej men det er dette digt, SVARE JEG.
-Hazel
ALesiach Jul 2019
Music man, Music man
Your loving guitar in hand
Your music was my downfall
Taking my heart, taking my all

I fell in love with your words,
Grew addicted to your rhythm.
The sorrow in your burning chords,
Drew me in with them.

I felt your music flow through me
Getting lost, carried away
In your songs, in your dreams
As I listened to you play

Music man, Music man
Your loving guitar in hand
Your music was my downfall
Taking my heart, taking my all

Music man, Music man
Your loving guitar in hand
Your music was my downfall
Taking my heart, taking my all

ALesiach © 07/23/2017
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