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#pandas
unlike other web platforms this one doesn't let you post news articles so I'll just say what it is Two giant pandas in the Hong Kong zoo, which has been closed for months due to corona, have just mated successfully for the first time in ten years. If you're an animal lover like me, you've been hearing for ever about how they couldn't get pandas to mate in captivity and how scientists were at their wits' end (since the animals' actual habitat is vanishing) about how to keep the species going. There was always plenty of money around to support their efforts, since giant pandas are so popular with people! - but, somehow, money wasn't doing the trick. Now, finally, the ultimate discovery! All the pandas needed was to be SOCIALLY DISTANCED from the tens of thousands of looooooovvvving humans that had plagued every day of their existence for ten years. Their financial support is good, their actual physical presence.....maybe they can watch videos, if the government there does not object.
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Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 9:18 PM UTC
panda-ring
Penguins painted pink, peacefully practising pragmatic pebble placement. Perfectly pointy piles, please! Profoundly pious Pandas ponder pancreatic problems, predict potential palsy. Prognosis? Perilously poor. Pale porpoises proudly plunge purple pools, placidly pasturing petrified plankton. Poor protozoans perish. Portly, paunchy, plumpish, porcine, porky pigs populate putrid puddles, Pulverizing pumpkin pies. Purposely Prickly porcupines pursue palatable plants, pin-pointing precisely. Puce petunias preferred. Pill popping puppet people perpetuate planetary perdition, pardon profuse pollution. Pretentious ******
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Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 11:22 PM UTC
P
Baby Panda You called me A pussy-bitch When you woke And I smiled In response Baby Panda When eating Fruity pebbles With almond milk You croaked like A frog, croak Over 20 times And got up To spit in the sink Excessive saliva In between Each bite I asked you why You croak wha? I smiled And say Never mind Baby Panda You ran to me Sobbing as if The world was ending My socks!!! No more clean **** I forgot To dry them You pace Uncomfortable As you're forced To go barefoot *Feet **** For longer Than an hour Baby Panda I return to You're stash Of a room And picking up Your pajamas I smell an Accident Of both sorts Soiling your Clothes sorry Red faced you enter I smile and Remind you To let me know Next time And not to Throw it on the Wooden floor Baby Panda Socks on smooth Shoes tied with Quadrupled knots You head to your Room, radio blasting Some radio talk Station about comedy Until 8:21 rolls around And you run Like a bullet To the bus outside Our house I smile as you yell BUS IS HERE No matter what room I'm in Baby Panda I worry for you The second you walk Out the door Because you have such Big, terrifying emotions Yet a small filter On your words, thoughts Of your own body Despite the fact That you're turning Into a real teen Before the summers end Baby Panda I wish I could help In ways I cannot I can't read your mind Though you think I should Know how by now I can't make socks magically Not hurt, or have people Not get ****** When you randomly shout Profanities When your last conversation Was regarding food And I can't Stop the madness that Overtakes your body Every time you get ill Physically, mentally But Baby Panda I love you now And always will
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Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 12:07 AM UTC
Baby Panda (Autism/PANDAS)
Baby Panda You called me A pussy-bitch When you woke And I smiled In response Baby Panda When eating Fruity pebbles With almond milk You croaked like A frog, croak Over 20 times And got up To spit in the sink Excessive saliva In between Each bite I asked you why You croak wha? I smiled And say Never mind Baby Panda You ran to me Sobbing as if The world was ending My socks!!! No more clean **** I forgot To dry them You pace Uncomfortable As you're forced To go barefoot *Feet **** For longer Than an hour Baby Panda I return to You're stash Of a room And picking up Your pajamas I smell an Accident Of both sorts Soiling your Clothes sorry Red faced you enter I smile and Remind you To let me know Next time And not to Throw it on the Wooden floor Baby Panda Socks on smooth Shoes tied with Quadrupled knots You head to your Room, radio blasting Some radio talk Station about comedy Until 8:21 rolls around And you run Like a bullet To the bus outside Our house I smile as you yell BUS IS HERE No matter what room I'm in Baby Panda I worry for you The second you walk Out the door Because you have such Big, terrifying emotions Yet a small filter On your words, thoughts Of your own body Despite the fact That you're turning Into a real teen Before the summers end Baby Panda I wish I could help In ways I cannot I can't read your mind Though you think I should Know how by now I can't make socks magically Not hurt, or have people Not get ****** When you randomly shout Profanities When your last conversation Was regarding food And I can't Stop the madness that Overtakes your body Every time you get ill Physically, mentally But Baby Panda I love you now And always will
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I've been hit by Life She's ran me over twice; Sometimes she can be nice, A friend you call for free food. But most of the time, it seems She's that crazy ex outside your house Wielding a blowtorch Begging for you to make a wrong move
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Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
PANDAS
Black and white. Furry. As soft as silk. A herbivore that eats bamboo. Giant. Red. Pandas. Beautiful pandas. Cute but not very cuddly. Kept in captivity. Some in the wild. Pandas. A truly amazing creature.
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Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC
Panda
The Looking back and seeing, It's almost like I'm dreaming From my Life, ive been weening wanna win it "well done" Trevailed a vision One and only Son "Light that your arising" And every body was...   That's right....                               Kung fu fighting. The lines in my mind remind me that I'm...      A freedom fighter who will aspire higher; oh, and youra liar.
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Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
McPoe (IT)...(V)
Burly bleak plumes roll out aloft corn Where the dragon fell post spin and ditch A wretched hulk of ruin splintered and worn Amongst endless blanch green fields which Arc with a gust and apart where he treads, Dragging his silk cape afar from flame Clueless and concussed to a near house he heads With a tattered scarf that constricts yet ***** about his mane Black fists of cloud had boomed around him as they soared His beast spat metal fire whilst the pale sky turned dull The zipping ballet of warfare smiled throughout as motors roared Gnashing its teeth and making forgotten martyrs of them all Shuddering not from demise rather conflict as a whole He is as content with death as he is to survive Just not burn the world and condemn his soul A horror; men of rule seem keen to keep alive An agrarian self-dines rancorous and crocked Half sat, improperly perched from where he was shot Monsters had come for him once before this day They took his spouse and his daughter and then took them away He can hear but does not hark to the battle aloft It is now like the rain and the trees in a gust But to the boom and the shake he stands with a cough And as he cites the invader he sees he must do what he must The grower limps out with a Chassepot in his arms As the airman’s hands reach up and he falls to his knees With beads on his brow the man pleads with met palms The crofter sees naught but a Prussian blue monster disease The pilot knows his death, ‘Ich bin nicht sicher, wo ich will gehen?” The old Frenchman just sniggers as he thinks never again With the rifle’s slug now spent and the horror sent back to his hell The farmer mumbles to himself, ‘je dois me chercher une pelle,”
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Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
Seeds
Burly bleak plumes roll out aloft corn Where the dragon fell post spin and ditch A wretched hulk of ruin splintered and worn Amongst endless blanch green fields which Arc with a gust and apart where he treads, Dragging his silk cape afar from flame Clueless and concussed to a near house he heads With a tattered scarf that constricts yet ***** about his mane Black fists of cloud had boomed around him as they soared His beast spat metal fire whilst the pale sky turned dull The zipping ballet of warfare smiled throughout as motors roared Gnashing its teeth and making forgotten martyrs of them all Shuddering not from demise rather conflict as a whole He is as content with death as he is to survive Just not burn the world and condemn his soul A horror; men of rule seem keen to keep alive An agrarian self-dines rancorous and crocked Half sat, improperly perched from where he was shot Monsters had come for him once before this day They took his spouse and his daughter and then took them away He can hear but does not hark to the battle aloft It is now like the rain and the trees in a gust But to the boom and the shake he stands with a cough And as he cites the invader he sees he must do what he must The grower limps out with a Chassepot in his arms As the airman’s hands reach up and he falls to his knees With beads on his brow the man pleads with met palms The crofter sees naught but a Prussian blue monster disease The pilot knows his death, ‘Ich bin nicht sicher, wo ich will gehen?” The old Frenchman just sniggers as he thinks never again With the rifle’s slug now spent and the horror sent back to his hell The farmer mumbles to himself, ‘je dois me chercher une pelle,”
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