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#boot
writhe under the boot, a heel you were born to its imprint pressed onto your cheek a mark you'll bare no matter the distance in the pursuit of liberty in hopes of justice just for a chance at happiness where did our virtues go? were there ever any at all?
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Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 8:48 PM UTC
Bootlicker
π™Άπš‘πš˜πšœπš-πšπš›πšŠπš’πš—πš’πš—πš πš–πš’ 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒 πš‘πš˜πš–πšŽ, π™²πšŠπšŸπšŽπš—πšπš’πšœπš‘ 𝚝𝚘 πš€πšžπšŽπšŽπš—πšœ π™ΏπšŠπš›πš”, π™Ώπšžπš—πš”-𝚊-πš•πš’πšŒπš’πš˜πšžπšœ πš™πš’πšœπšπš˜πš•πšœ 𝚊𝚝 πšπšŠπš πš—. π™Ύπš—πšŽ πš‘πšŠπš—πš πš˜πš— πšπš‘πšŽ πš–πšŽπšπšŠπš•, πšπš‘πšŽ πš˜πšπš‘πšŽπš› πš˜πš— πšπš‘πšŽ πš‘πšŠπš’πš›, πš‚πš™πšŠπš›πšπšŠπš— πšπšŠπš›πšπšŠπš—, πš‹πš˜πš˜πš πš•πšŽπšŠπšπš‘πšŽπš› πšŠπš—πš πšœπš‘πš›πšŽπšπšπšŽπš πšœπš•πš˜πšπšŠπš—πšœ: __|__π•¬π–“π–†π–—π–ˆπ–π–ž (𝕻)π–—π–Šπ–˜π–Šπ–—π–›π–Šπ–˜ π•΅π–šπ–‰π–Œπ–Šπ–’π–Šπ–“π–™__|__ 𝙰 πš›πš’πš—πš-𝚊-πš›πš˜πšžπš—πš πšπš‘πšŽ πš›πš˜πšœπš’πšŽ, 𝙰 πšπšŠπš’πšπš‘, 𝚊 πšŒπš˜πš—πšŒπš‘ πšŠπš—πš 𝚊 πš—πš˜πšœπšŽπšπšŠπš’. π™Ύπš’! ⍟ _𝙸 πšπšŽπšŽπš• πš–πš˜πšœπš 𝚊𝚝 πš‘πš˜πš–πšŽ πšŠπš–πš˜πš—πš πšœπš˜πšŒπš’πšŽπšπš’β€™πšœ πš˜πšπšπš’πšπš’πšŽπšœ πš πš‘πš˜ πš’πš—πšŸπšŠπš›πš’πšŠπš‹πš•πš’ πšπš˜πš—β€™πš πšŒπšŽπš•πšŽπš‹πš›πšŠπšπšŽ π™²πš‘πš›πš’πšœπšβ€™πšœ π™ΌπšŠπšœπšœ. πš‚πš πš’πš–πš–πš’πš—πš πšπš’πš›πšŽπš•πšŽπšœπšœπš•πš’ πšžπš™πšœπšπš›πšŽπšŠπš– πšŠπšπšŠπš’πš—πšœπš πšπš‘πšŽ πš‘πš˜πš•πš’ πšŒπšžπš›πš›πšŽπš—πš 𝚘𝚏 πšŒπš˜πš—πšœπšžπš–πšŽπš›πš’πšœπš–, πšπš’πš—πšœπšŽπš• πšŠπš—πš πšπšŠπšŒπš”, πšπšžπš›πš”πšŽπš’ πšŠπš—πš πšπš›πš’πšπš•πšŽ, 𝚠𝚎 πš›πš’πšπšŽ πšπš‘πšŽ πšπš‘πš˜πšœπš πšπš›πšŠπš’πš— πšŠπš—πš πš–πšŽπšŽπš πš˜πšžπš›πšœπšŽπš•πšŸπšŽπšœ πš‘πšŠπš•πšπš πšŠπš’._
0
Dec 31, 2020
Dec 31, 2020 at 1:42 AM UTC
Dante’s Vagabond
π™Άπš‘πš˜πšœπš-πšπš›πšŠπš’πš—πš’πš—πš πš–πš’ 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒 πš‘πš˜πš–πšŽ, π™²πšŠπšŸπšŽπš—πšπš’πšœπš‘ 𝚝𝚘 πš€πšžπšŽπšŽπš—πšœ π™ΏπšŠπš›πš”, π™Ώπšžπš—πš”-𝚊-πš•πš’πšŒπš’πš˜πšžπšœ πš™πš’πšœπšπš˜πš•πšœ 𝚊𝚝 πšπšŠπš πš—. π™Ύπš—πšŽ πš‘πšŠπš—πš πš˜πš— πšπš‘πšŽ πš–πšŽπšπšŠπš•, πšπš‘πšŽ πš˜πšπš‘πšŽπš› πš˜πš— πšπš‘πšŽ πš‘πšŠπš’πš›, πš‚πš™πšŠπš›πšπšŠπš— πšπšŠπš›πšπšŠπš—, πš‹πš˜πš˜πš πš•πšŽπšŠπšπš‘πšŽπš› πšŠπš—πš πšœπš‘πš›πšŽπšπšπšŽπš πšœπš•πš˜πšπšŠπš—πšœ: __|__π•¬π–“π–†π–—π–ˆπ–π–ž (𝕻)π–—π–Šπ–˜π–Šπ–—π–›π–Šπ–˜ π•΅π–šπ–‰π–Œπ–Šπ–’π–Šπ–“π–™__|__ 𝙰 πš›πš’πš—πš-𝚊-πš›πš˜πšžπš—πš πšπš‘πšŽ πš›πš˜πšœπš’πšŽ, 𝙰 πšπšŠπš’πšπš‘, 𝚊 πšŒπš˜πš—πšŒπš‘ πšŠπš—πš 𝚊 πš—πš˜πšœπšŽπšπšŠπš’. π™Ύπš’! ⍟ _𝙸 πšπšŽπšŽπš• πš–πš˜πšœπš 𝚊𝚝 πš‘πš˜πš–πšŽ πšŠπš–πš˜πš—πš πšœπš˜πšŒπš’πšŽπšπš’β€™πšœ πš˜πšπšπš’πšπš’πšŽπšœ πš πš‘πš˜ πš’πš—πšŸπšŠπš›πš’πšŠπš‹πš•πš’ πšπš˜πš—β€™πš πšŒπšŽπš•πšŽπš‹πš›πšŠπšπšŽ π™²πš‘πš›πš’πšœπšβ€™πšœ π™ΌπšŠπšœπšœ. πš‚πš πš’πš–πš–πš’πš—πš πšπš’πš›πšŽπš•πšŽπšœπšœπš•πš’ πšžπš™πšœπšπš›πšŽπšŠπš– πšŠπšπšŠπš’πš—πšœπš πšπš‘πšŽ πš‘πš˜πš•πš’ πšŒπšžπš›πš›πšŽπš—πš 𝚘𝚏 πšŒπš˜πš—πšœπšžπš–πšŽπš›πš’πšœπš–, πšπš’πš—πšœπšŽπš• πšŠπš—πš πšπšŠπšŒπš”, πšπšžπš›πš”πšŽπš’ πšŠπš—πš πšπš›πš’πšπš•πšŽ, 𝚠𝚎 πš›πš’πšπšŽ πšπš‘πšŽ πšπš‘πš˜πšœπš πšπš›πšŠπš’πš— πšŠπš—πš πš–πšŽπšŽπš πš˜πšžπš›πšœπšŽπš•πšŸπšŽπšœ πš‘πšŠπš•πšπš πšŠπš’._
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This is a magic boot It’s really magic if I am bored it takes me to my playground If I am happy the boot is happy too if l am sad the boot will make me happy
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Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 9:33 AM UTC
Magic magic boot
In the need of a loan, Let’s meet some officers who must not a con. Mr. Terrier, the senior one, Always FRISKY and care for none. The morning routine starts so early. Trying to look DAPPER with hair curly. The skin of brown and polished BOOT I tried to look professional and cute. The meeting started and Officer looks firm. Presented us with all the loan term. The terms we agreed and the agreement signed. Now the chores are done and an assistant is assigned. The assistant looks like as young LAD. Hope he had all the experience and be true to our FACE. The day went well and now time to sleep. There must be some dream, waiting long deep.
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Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 4:24 AM UTC
A formal meeting
East or the west, Computer is Waste Surrounded by mouse, Having no Taste Operator is a fool, Is never ever Cool Always in haste, Does Cut and Paste Encounters error in memory, Shooks his Head Filled with terror, Shakes his Neck Restarts his computer, But in Vain The computer Reports – 'Disk Boot Failure' The operator restarts, again and again But no more gains, only pain and pain Hits the CPU with his Boots But still the computer fails to Boot Kicks the Monitor with his Boots The Monitor Screen gets shattered The operator gets an electric shock Utters 'Good Bye World' Long live the computer, In the Future To send peoples to the lovely Heaven Free of Cost – Free of Cost By the way, If anyone finds himself in the Hell Then just blame His Highness Great Charles Babbage
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Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 7:52 AM UTC
Computer Is Waste
grave request by Michael R. Burch come to ur doom in Tombstone; the stars stark and chill over Boot Hill care nothing for ur desire; still, imagine they wish u no ill, that u burn with the same antique fire; for there’s nothing to life but the thrill of living until u expire; so come, spend ur last hardearned bill on Tombstone. Keywords/Tags: Tombstone, Boot Hill, grave, headstone, death, doom, graveyard, morgue, final, payment, resting place
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Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 4:14 AM UTC
grave request
Goodbye old friend it's time again for me to buy another ferry to watch the world go by in the seasons have battered us both I have wrinkles now and so do you You were there when I looked down to think about what I'm goin through However, the cow leather weathered the summer's swelter for this long but can't extend so we can march through winter together. I'll never sink again into my bed feet naked, still thinking of made memories in spades with you stinking there beside me An echo of the chapter where gravel patches have tried me A step over the road on the bridges burnt behind me A leftover sound now of wooden heels through worn rubber ringing through the halls of a hospital stomping to a "maybe I lost it all" to watch the oxygen drop stop and pray to promise that I would pay any cost and bawl, waiting. But now she's hardly "baby" she's got so tall She's staying on her shoes cause she prefers more to walk than crawl All I wanna say is I'm amazed at how the days have passed marking time by boot step, loose in a haze to grasp choosing every stride with a mind on the flash I have while each second's shorter than the last.
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Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 7:35 AM UTC
I Need Some New Boots.
Congressman and senators forewent all manner of civility, fidelity and integrity wii hull ding broadswords, derringers and exhibiting the right to bare firearms as all hell broke loose as testimony to the dire prognostication foretold more than saber rattling and Gatling guns que kind from lambastes, fisticuffs and brickbats ratcheted up as agents provocateurs nee said obedience to semper fidelis credo, coda and **** knee stance when dire straits called for restraint against excess versus raising cane old hickory i.e. Andrew Jackson latched onto when opposing with energy plus verve espoused by fellow delegates, and his hologram ghost ****** from battle scars outside and/or inside the halls of government where blows bashed dovetailed elected legislators to officiate as angry birds viz brouhaha clashed Federalist against their nemesis of the twenty first century during the term of Donald Trump who throve on the cutthroat frenzied internecine lawlessness dashed to and fro, hither and yon any hopelessness for civilians to escape bloodshed spilled from without vaunted halls of justice, the approach of doomsday writ large as anarchy and mayhem flashed with uproarious coup d’etat, when Democrats outliers gnashed teeth, and nonestablishmentarian outlaws pistol whipped and hashed tagged traitors who roared America went bankrupt at sold at fire sale price slashed when Donald Trump ran the country into the ground evidenced by Molotov Cocktails residue in concert with the sulfuric odor of hand grenades trashed like some sorority or fraternity house left the sanctified righteous West Wing with powder puffs sans canisters of pepper spray, whereby most docile, humble, and liberal took a page from playbook of Pandora, and took an aimless swing at the root cause of melee by hurling objet’s d’art at the pompous trump ping Septuagenarian, whose platoons of goons rent asunder peoples against their king the donnybrook heathen, whose remarks against libertarian rubric that made America great wantonly soup peer egg go whist tickly reviving prejudices declared dead from yesteryear and his attempt to bring back the glory days, when Whistler Blowers getting water boarded and aching deigning to implement dictatorship of the Proletariat as a capital idΓ©e fix weaving together, the salient strengths viz founding fathers credo gave licks to King George, and now in an ironic twist and shout of fate through eclectic mix basket of deplorables further shamed by being routed by the New York Nicks sewed jaws, heads of state, and dignitaries with limping bodies spent like derricks Oil used up and no place to go except to keep Alice in Chains and Alice Cooper Company with toys in the attics.
0
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 4:03 AM UTC
Chaos In The White House
Congressman and senators forewent all manner of civility, fidelity and integrity wii hull ding broadswords, derringers and exhibiting the right to bare firearms as all hell broke loose as testimony to the dire prognostication foretold more than saber rattling and Gatling guns que kind from lambastes, fisticuffs and brickbats ratcheted up as agents provocateurs nee said obedience to semper fidelis credo, coda and **** knee stance when dire straits called for restraint against excess versus raising cane old hickory i.e. Andrew Jackson latched onto when opposing with energy plus verve espoused by fellow delegates, and his hologram ghost ****** from battle scars outside and/or inside the halls of government where blows bashed dovetailed elected legislators to officiate as angry birds viz brouhaha clashed Federalist against their nemesis of the twenty first century during the term of Donald Trump who throve on the cutthroat frenzied internecine lawlessness dashed to and fro, hither and yon any hopelessness for civilians to escape bloodshed spilled from without vaunted halls of justice, the approach of doomsday writ large as anarchy and mayhem flashed with uproarious coup d’etat, when Democrats outliers gnashed teeth, and nonestablishmentarian outlaws pistol whipped and hashed tagged traitors who roared America went bankrupt at sold at fire sale price slashed when Donald Trump ran the country into the ground evidenced by Molotov Cocktails residue in concert with the sulfuric odor of hand grenades trashed like some sorority or fraternity house left the sanctified righteous West Wing with powder puffs sans canisters of pepper spray, whereby most docile, humble, and liberal took a page from playbook of Pandora, and took an aimless swing at the root cause of melee by hurling objet’s d’art at the pompous trump ping Septuagenarian, whose platoons of goons rent asunder peoples against their king the donnybrook heathen, whose remarks against libertarian rubric that made America great wantonly soup peer egg go whist tickly reviving prejudices declared dead from yesteryear and his attempt to bring back the glory days, when Whistler Blowers getting water boarded and aching deigning to implement dictatorship of the Proletariat as a capital idΓ©e fix weaving together, the salient strengths viz founding fathers credo gave licks to King George, and now in an ironic twist and shout of fate through eclectic mix basket of deplorables further shamed by being routed by the New York Nicks sewed jaws, heads of state, and dignitaries with limping bodies spent like derricks Oil used up and no place to go except to keep Alice in Chains and Alice Cooper Company with toys in the attics.
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68
A bullet so small and strong struck right where my lungs met. Embedded itself this insult of occult fake tidings riding on elitist snobby attitudes. A bullet or was it an insult? Either way, I am plummeting towards humiliation street with my tail between my legs. A bullet was that woman's sharp words cutting through my skin like a paper cut gone berserk. She was a joplin spider stuck in a ditch and I should have smashed her spindly weak legged body under my heavy black boots creating an ugly stain that looks like gunpowder or left over oil spilled over with the utmost disrespect.
0
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
Joplin Spider Stain
Three days in, And I must admit, It's getting better, Like they said it would. However, I have been using everything, I have, To keep that feeling of you, Close to me. Your clothes, They still reek of you, And the laundry soap your mother uses. I keep the stuffed giraffe we won, At the county fair, On my night stand to remind me, That you're coming home. And I haven't yet washed my face, I really know I ought to, But your kiss is still on my cheek, And I don't want to lose it. All of our friends, They've kept me company, So I don't panic, When your name doesn't pop up on my phone. I check that **** thing so often, You'd think I would stop, But god **** it, I'm hoping I'll wake up, And none of this had happened.
0
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Day 3
I couldn't breathe, As I laid in a ball, On my twin size bed, Curled up on the side, You used to lay on. "Babygirl, don't cry." You said all the time. But saying that, Would be the same, As if I asked you not to go. Both of which inevitable.
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Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
"Babygirl"
Foot: I've had enough after being put down, 'tis time to raise up turn things around. *** I'm well constructed, sturdy some would say, I challenge you good sir Boot away.
0
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
Hardass
We are obliged to almighty For our food and shelter! We are gratified our supreme Who caring us From the infinity of sky, From the top of mountain, From the intimate green of forest, From the profound blue of water For our vigour and glee! Let us come up to Sprawling green under the unwrapped sky Craft it an asylum For all of us Implore to fortitude of Boori Boot To live together! Let us rejoice in concert For spring and new cycle of harvest!
0
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
Gala for concord
I am so disappointed...disappointed in love. It had unlocked so many closed doors and exposed my eyes to beautiful sights. It had my heart pounding out of excitement and my tummy in knots. I would close my eyes and feel the warmth of your hug engulf me in its ecstasy... Ecstasy defined as "a state of being carried away by an overwhelming emotion". It felt like I was swept away...lifted off the ground and hung up to soak up this Love. I had no reservations...since this love showed me sights I never knew existed. It had my highest level of thought twisted in gold rims and candy floss...lost in the fairytale that always ends happily. Love. Love. Love. Words formed little bubbles of thrill all around my imagination. Cushioning any doubt I might have. It smoothed the rough edges and made the difficult seem easy. It had me looking forward to a life with you. Looking forward to the fights and smiles, the laughter and cries. I used to tell you your laughter brings so much joy to my heart... Love. I have so many things to tell you. I have so much I want to share with you. I am upset, disappointed...yet I am excited and I still love you, love. When you came along I belonged to the fragile kind, the dreamy kind, those that believed in the impossible. My heart got strengthened with each day, my poems building my broken soul. I can still see you, every second blink has your wonderful face floating by. I blink harder to try and remove any trace of you... Love. Feels like you tore out my heart and smashed it against a high concrete wall. You wore your biggest boot and kicked me in the guts, making me question if I truly deserve you. Love. It had me writing endlessly about the golden embroidery you were adding to my tapestry. Tapestry that details the path of my life...you my Love have been added onto my tapestry. Like it or not. You are there, blending in with the adventures of my life. I will remember you, forever think about you...Love, You willΒ Β settle in the depths of my being. Stacked under the "Lost and never found". Time to move....
0
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Candy Floss and tears.
I am so disappointed...disappointed in love. It had unlocked so many closed doors and exposed my eyes to beautiful sights. It had my heart pounding out of excitement and my tummy in knots. I would close my eyes and feel the warmth of your hug engulf me in its ecstasy... Ecstasy defined as "a state of being carried away by an overwhelming emotion". It felt like I was swept away...lifted off the ground and hung up to soak up this Love. I had no reservations...since this love showed me sights I never knew existed. It had my highest level of thought twisted in gold rims and candy floss...lost in the fairytale that always ends happily. Love. Love. Love. Words formed little bubbles of thrill all around my imagination. Cushioning any doubt I might have. It smoothed the rough edges and made the difficult seem easy. It had me looking forward to a life with you. Looking forward to the fights and smiles, the laughter and cries. I used to tell you your laughter brings so much joy to my heart... Love. I have so many things to tell you. I have so much I want to share with you. I am upset, disappointed...yet I am excited and I still love you, love. When you came along I belonged to the fragile kind, the dreamy kind, those that believed in the impossible. My heart got strengthened with each day, my poems building my broken soul. I can still see you, every second blink has your wonderful face floating by. I blink harder to try and remove any trace of you... Love. Feels like you tore out my heart and smashed it against a high concrete wall. You wore your biggest boot and kicked me in the guts, making me question if I truly deserve you. Love. It had me writing endlessly about the golden embroidery you were adding to my tapestry. Tapestry that details the path of my life...you my Love have been added onto my tapestry. Like it or not. You are there, blending in with the adventures of my life. I will remember you, forever think about you...Love, You willΒ Β settle in the depths of my being. Stacked under the "Lost and never found". Time to move....
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