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Love,
fine and dandy
when you're in it,
but when you're looking for it
a guidebook might come in handy.
***
Lyn-Purcell Jun 2020
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ'✿⊱╮
Honey pale and so whip-light
Hints of vanilla,
Wheat flour, milk, sugar, eggs
Whisk smooth with butter
Sweet or savoury
Choose fillings
Fry!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Twenty-sixth Epulaeryu! ^-^
The Pâtisserie collection continues, haha!
Crepes are a guilty pleasure of mine.
Personally, I love mine with some lemon and honey.
Powdered sugar sprinkled on it with some berries on the side.
And the best part is that they can be sweet or savoury!
Br back with more soon!
Much love,
Lyn ***
ZACK GRAM Jan 2020
ALL-HEIL ALL-HEIL BANK-ZACK
ALL-CASH N DETRIMENT
NO PRECIDENT
PRESIDENTIALLY PROTHESIZED,
COMPRAMISED ON THE UNDERGROUND
BREAKING BARRIERS AN SPREADING PRODUCT
LIKE LUE KANG!!

SCARTCH THAT WHIP THAT IN THE LAB,
WINNING SPINNIN THE ALBUM ,
LIKE ROCCA MOSCOW KNOW-
HOW IT GO FOR MY-
FOUR BANG HARDER
IN THE TINT...
MAKE ME SLOW DOWN AN RUN POCKETS...
ITS SCARY OUT HERE FOR THOSE WANNA BEEZ ....
WHO CANT KEEP TREES,
SO THE TRIGGER WE SQUEEZE,
BODIES PILING WHY THEY DYING!!
QUESTION AGAIN SLAIN A QUICK COME UP?
DEMOLISH THESE ******* QUICK?
CONSTITUTE OUR RIGHTS AS NATURAL HUMANS?!!??
ALL-HEIL
zebra Jun 2019
could it be a *******
like cotton buds
from the ***** flower

a witched river
under dark clouds
of brooms that don't fly anymore
maybe in need of an upgrade

perhaps a spell of weaponized winds
with insinuated floating ghouls
shaking their lopsided claws
under blood orchards
and diagrams of grief
as they follow their noses
looking for *****

*******; the scent of vivacious
zyzzyva
loving oozing laughter
thirsty skin
needles too
**** heroine stuck on toe picket fences
mimicry of ducks blood butter
like a crime scene of kisses that went to far
eggs and runny yokes left puddled on a thigh
the ****** burps Pans milkshake
*** legacy legs
lookin for love

auto asphyxiated in a closet fringy and hanging with a hardon
lost eyes and drool
somewhere in Thailand
after spicy noodle soup
and a Tsingtao


hurt me
hurt you
i'm an evil boweval
a Zyzzyva come to love you
Grace Spellman Dec 2018
x
ive been living on make out hill
ive been high on her touch instead of pills
she wont let me out of her hypnosis
anytime soon
oh how i love you
James Daniel Nov 2018
Legs so short
They don’t touch the ground
Waiting for the bus
And listening to the sound

Of kissing your soul
Star shaped
And soppy wet
As if my heart melt
Yes I felt


These plastic telephones
Bad reception on a good day
And I’m in a major city what the hell

Singin down a tin can, with a string thru a hole

I want to kiss your soul
I want to kiss your soul


How long will it take
And how many lips will I have to kiss to get to you?
What will be the calendar month?
Mark it in for me
I’m here on satellite, way below

Waiting on your call
All illuminated and lonely
If my soul had a colour
What would it be?


Singin down a tin can, with a string thru a hole

I want to kiss your soul
I want to kiss your soul



She kicked that can
It hit me in the head
It left a mark, spared me death
I ran out of breath
And for a minute there was quiet

Then the bus came
And off she went
I pulled out my worn out itinerary
That had the answers to everything

Then I sang down a tin can, with a string thru a hole

I want to kiss your soul
I want to kiss your soul
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.
;)
roxanne Jun 2018
A man born without wings into the ashes of a forest
dead leaves and a valley of butterflies
Bleached to be ethicless
effortless as it is
To go without pursuit of question

A mind of matter
Wherein death lies one doesn't know
You're feeling all these expectancies
all these dependencies
Energy of yours, unhinged

The screens written
with the bastardisation of simple truths
Rhythmic as a creature
as spoken wavelength navigating
A wondering memory standing in front of the collectives

Transcendence above the impermanence
A palace on the grounds among us, but separated
dangerous minds of a phenomenon, in sequencing
Unceasing in divinity and untempered
by the indignation of his companions

Free to be, among the meadows of ourselves.
A tribute to X. My prince, a brother, a spirit gone to the wind but never departed from the atmosphere he breathed for us.
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