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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hevNco-VIho

Even Mike from Picture Loans don't wanna banter
'bout the football: I must be Mr. N.S. Senshawl.

My fascias & guttering are gagging for it,
but Safestyle never call: I must be Mr. N.S. Cenchall.

Nadir? It ain't bloomers baron Asil
in Cypriot sanctum tranquil:
it's me, myself & Mr. N.S. Senchall.

All the shitposting edgelords
catsitting for their exes Saturdaynight
are still more cool
than Mr. N.S. Senshaul.

I cross the informationsuperbillygoatsgruffbridge,
data unharvested: I must be  'NIFOC In Norfolk'...
'Drat & dratdrat, wrong username!'
blushed Mr. N. S. Censhawl.

Happy Hanukkah card was a circular
from the Inland Revenue.
Wasn't even addressed to
Mr. N.S. Senchawl.

In my hibernaculum, awaiting the business acumen
of a Sally Army mercenary, knocking to sell
me a doorbell that plays, 'Jingle Bells,
Mr. N.S. Censhall smells'.

Neither chaplain attached to suicide magnet estates,
nor my own personal Semitic Jazz Zeus, ministers
to unspeakably forgotten O me of little face,
Mr. N.S. Cenchawl ,
unseemly as all the major faiths.

Even if I rescued Meghan Markle
from Mr. & Mrs. Shackles' tumbril,
in sadiemaisie bunnyland black swaddling
on the road to Much Marcle,
the press would still misspell the hero of the hour's name,
'Mr. N.S. Censhaul'.

On my birth certificate, impasto vitiligo
of correction fluid furs the phobile mome no.
at my mum's hobile mone. & my name.
I cannot decifur
if it's Mr. N.S. Senchaul
or Mr. N.S. Senshall.
Or 'Mysteron Is Sensual'.

Has my mind gone blanket,
or is it a sense shawl?
Now I feel like Wolverine,
at least a vulperteen.
Militaryindustrial *******, sob,
did they massacre my memories, bub?
Defuse my dreams of a life less stabby?
Contorture me into this cybertiger Caliban,
monstro-Mowgli?
Now I feel like Wolverine's
wisdomtooth, a pain deemed
so negligible
- like Mr. N. S. Cenchaul.

Stan, Stan!
Radioman
Baker,  M'intosh, Zodiac Killer,  
Dr. Livingstone,
Mike from Picture Loans,
do you copy, over?
It's me,  Mr. N.S. Dooberry.
Ariel Jan 2018
This castle of clay is all that remains
Of my empire of sand and glass
I can't explain this unwavering pain
Since you went away
My hands hurt.
The constant migraine of your lost face
Is with me to this day

My hands hurt.
They keep me awake
I cannot take a moment's rest
I must remain, to defend.
Here I stand, in the sand
Against the rain
Against the pain you have left
My castle of clay is all that remains
And I will try to save it to my last breath

My hands hurt.
In the end
All that you spent
Was the love that I freely gave
Surrounded by the dead
I am spent
Like the soldiers you did not send
Save me now,
Don't let me drown here in the rain.

My hands hurt.
The scars you left
Have never changed
It's still an open wound
Standing here defending my land
Protecting my empire of dirt.
Defending my castles of sand and glass.
Still here rebuilding my empire of dirt.
Until the day
(Oh, that blessed day!)
Until the day that my hands
Will no longer
Hurt.
I was inspired by one of the scenes in Logan and by the comic Old Man Logan to create a little diddy that might be Wolverine's anthem as he grows older and the number he's lost increases. Shout out to Hugh Jackman for being such an incredible Wolverine, you will always be my favorite!!
Seanathon Mar 2017
The steel inside my forearm
Has bent beneath the tremendous heat
Of the forest fire burning in me

How it roars and screams a passionate plea
Not of agony but of fury
Both in might and out of sight

With hands outstretched
Over top the sea of burning trees
And temperatures boiling over uproariously

You’ll hear the howl of this wolverine
As it drowns out the earthly screams
Of a forest fire

Insurmountable and unquenchable by any stream
This is how I viewed the scene Mr. Logan
Meet the man with Wolverine's wrists
- despite his best efforts, he still exists!
Bananaskin scalpel! Featherduster scalpel!
Siren scalpel to the blood sing 'snikt'!

Adamantium Hacksaw Jim Duggan,
only face who could frack the rock wrists
of the freak. Despite wolfish spleen,
wou'nt look Wolvereem wearing Wolverine rug.

I pity the freak
for whom new dawns fade, birds bleat.
I pity the freak,
boomerang back from the brink.
I pity the freak
in Immortality's clink.
Gloomerang going round in a gloomnado,
selfpity makes freaks of us all.
I pity the freak
chance it might be me,
coz we pity the freaks
mercilessly.

Life is hard, but a deathwish is harder.
No autumn for stemcells, sun's a stickyplaster.
Freewill's sweet FA to  killjoy healing factor.
She don't know when to let go,
Mother Nature.

Meet the man with Wolverine's wrists
- despite his best efforts, he still exists!
Sweet nothings scalpel! Baby's bottom scalpel!
Sylvia scalpel to the blood sing 'snikt'!

Adamantium Janice swung by Abyss,
only heel who could frack the rock wrists
of the freak. Why the ghoulish means?
Only death can heal being a freak.

Bananaskin scalpel! Featherduster scalpel!
Only death can heal being a freak.
Sweet nothings scalpel! Baby's bottom scalpel!
Only death can heal being a freak.
Candyfloss scalpel! Balloon animal scalpel!
Only death can heal being a freak.
Silk hankie scalpel!  Soppy *** scalpel!
Only death can heal being a freak.
Cushelle scalpel, formerly Charmin scalpel!
Only death can heal being a freak.
jack of spades Dec 2015
Sugar and spice and everything nice,
Wolverine claws and a venomous bite,
Armed to the teeth for a ***** fight:
This is what teenage girls are made of.

Maybe I fall in love too easily,
But I’m just sixteen.
And I’m just sixteen but
When you cat call me and I pretend not to hear you,
You call me catty as if it’s surprising.
When you wolf whistle at me and I ignore you,
You call me names that aren’t PG.
I’m just sixteen but I’ve got news for you:
I’m a she-wolf, far from domesticated so
Whistling will do nothing for you.
I don’t answer the call of any man, because
I’m a lioness, and every time you catcall me
You forget who does the hunting.
You need reminding, to be put in your place.
You’re a predator but I’m not your prey-
No, you’re a predator but I’m much, much
Much higher up on the food chain.
Whistle and call all night long,
I’ll chew you up and spit you out
Like the kind of bubble gum that isn’t worth a trash can.
I’d call you a pig, but pigs usually have a
Higher IQ than you do.
My bones are made of titanium, of Adamantium, and
My rage came from the cosmos, and I control hurricanes with the water in my lungs.

I am catty,
And I am a *****,
But you are a nobody,
Food for the vultures and
A piece of furniture to sharpen my claws on.
You may be a knife, but my heart is a diamond.
I am a diamond, and you are made of fossil fuels.
We are both the product of years of pressure,
But I took my disasters and made myself beautiful.
You let yourself become ****, nowhere to go
Except standing on corners late at night,
Pollution spilling from your mouth and your eyes.

Leave me alone.
That’s not me being ‘hard-to-get,’ no,
That’s my wolf howl and the growl of my inner lioness.
Leave me alone,
Or else.
read it while wearing dark lipstick that stains microphones

— The End —