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Mark Oct 4
"Who ****** Marsha Brady?" "I," said the Sparrow
"With my bow and arrow, I ****** Marsha Brady"
"Who saw him ****?" "I," said the Fly
"With my little eye, I saw him ****"
"Who caught his ***?" "I," said the Fish
"With my little dish, I caught his ***"
"Who'll make the movie?" "I", said the Beetle
"With my thread and needle, I'll make the movie"
"Who'll make his advert?" "I," said the Owl
"With my pick and shovel, I'll make his advert"
"Who'll be the screenwriter?" "I," said the Rook
"With my little book, I'll be the screenwriter"
"Who'll be the cameraman?" "I," said the Lark
"If it's not in the dark, I'll be the cameraman"
"Who'll carry the camera?" "I," said the Linnet
"I'll fetch it in a minute, I'll carry the camera"
"Who'll be chief editor?" "I," said the Dove
"I **** for my love, I'll be chief editor."
"Who'll carry the actors?" "I," said the Kite
"If it's not through the night, I'll carry the actors"
"Who'll bare it all? "We," said the Wren
"Both the **** and the hen, we'll bare it all."
"Who'll sing a song?" "I," said the Thrush
"As she ate on a mush, I'll sing a song"
"Who'll make him ***?" "I," said the bull
"Because I can pull, I'll make him ***"
All the crew of the film, fell a-sighing and a-sobbing
When they witnessed the ******* yell, from poor Marsha Brady.
Nigdaw Sep 26
I sit and eat potato chips
on my couch in front of tv
I am a cannibal
sofa surfing
channel hopping
media crawling
it's the only exercise
I get these days
too busy observing
to join in
my critical critique
leaves me astounded
as to how absurd the world can be
missed penalties and opportunities
keep me ranting
panting in disbelief
reality isn't reality tv
everybody becomes an actor you see
they're just not famous
enough yet to be celebrity
one of these days I'll make the news
headline report with shocking footage
couch potato ate himself to death
binging on a 52 inch flat screen.
Mark Sep 26
Tried my luck, under the roof of the New York Dodgers dome
Didn’t make roster, hopped on Route 66, went to another city
Ended up at the front gates of Walter Disney’s home
Which has been re-zoned to downtown LA, oh what a pity
Walked the streets, buzzing to pollinate all the beehives
Saw some Fred Astaire dudes, showing off their colorful jives
Wandered down a blackened, one way street
And who the ****, do you think I would meet?
The one and only knife wielding ghetto ****, Huggy Bear
Who said, I wasn’t now, looking all that smug, oh dear
Then along came his crew, Bonnie and Clyde
Now I wanted somewhere to ******* well hide
All of a sudden, a striped tomato pulled up and out jumped Starsky n Hutch
Yelling out to the ****, Huggy Bear, who spoke double-dutch
Leave the boy alone, and go on and get back on home
Thank god you showed up, for I was ‘bout to write my last poem.
Hollywood joy
was good as any boy
this year with the stallion
but this precipice would enjoy
a hearty show of his miserable foe
the dire place he slept a toe in his faith
and forthcoming season began hep
with the homecoming of the wife
that he tri-tied the rope in his bed  
why a laser conspired
that would be their heart of joy
in the neighborhoods yet
she's a fashionable thing of beach
that would roll his honor such a wife
Starry Aug 31
Since the TV
Looks down upon
My fellow sufferers
I look at the TV with derision
Look down at it
I do watch it
For the ignorance
It prepelles.

I was a

Not a

Not a

Not a

Nor a

Not a

Not a

Not a

I was
A Bobcat




A Bob

I was
Of us



Only if

We keep this
Planet alive

And neither can any of
Us I may be disabled and

I was abused as a child
Maybe that's why it's so

Forking easy to know that
Things are not right right now

We can still fix this though...
Alaina Moore Jul 11
A stark realization.
I'm, for lack of a better word, obsessed with South Park.
Not like collectables, clothing, or other cluttered stuff.
But like ingrained into my personality, seriously, like a face hugger planting seeds in my core. Hatching into satirical, political, ridiculous obsession
Half my inside jokes.
The majority of my random noises.
Sewn within my vocabulary.
Constantly murmuring on the TV like old friends at dinner.
In my achievement list on Steam.
On my blu-ray shelf.
Gently nudging me with phone notifications to collect my free pack.
Definitely used in comparisons at work.

Equally tearing down the walls of anyone and everyone.
I eat it up.
Alana Ray Jun 2
Motivated... yet unmotivated to write...
Scared of what secrets my pen will tell,
afraid of the pain my heart will remember.
It's not writer's block,
more like heart-block.

That feeling of breaking into pieces,
scattered across the floor
rolling under the bed... my senses.
My fears cling to the ceiling,
my tears fill my bath tub.

That night my lover proved to me
that I was living a scripted TV show.
What I thought was my reality
was fake.

Pathetic I was,
for lowering myself for a man
that was never worthy to call me his.

Visions of my future disappeared,
everything got hazy.

How in four months can I get over what I though was the love of my life?

Unfortunately, I have to report that I'm DOA.
Nik Jun 8
It helps me feel better about myself by putting my emotions into terms that everyone will understand, for example:

My life is like a joke with no punchline.
Maybe more like I’m telling the joke, and I forgot the punchline,
so now we’re both sitting here awkwardly trying not to feel too bad for me.
It probably wasn’t even that funny anyway.

My life is like a poorly written sitcom that only lasted for a season because no one could emotionally connect with the main character.
Almost like there was no budget—
And it’s just me, sitting in front of a camera screaming.

My life is like going to get a steak and cheese, hold the mushrooms, and not only are there mushrooms, but they’re cooked into the meat so you can’t even take them out.
Alright, maybe my life isn’t that bad.

I don’t know how to say that I can’t get up in the morning.
That I am Jesus, my demons are his disciples, and this bed my cross— I am nailed to it.
Instead I tell you that everyday feels like a Monday, even the weekends.

I’m not great at anything, but if I was to pick my biggest accomplishment,
it would be that no one knows when I’m joking anymore.
I just hope that when it’s my time to go, i’ll be forgiven for making it so hard to know me.
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