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#pole
Totemic— the drowned **** rises from the blasted shore, linking the severed heads, the spinal cord and collections of scorn.
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May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 6:48 PM UTC
Totem Pole
Two Men's vibes burning reach my Evez ice. Two my diamond cave enter. underneath my water fall. Vibration's from beyond,   two distinctive voices won, ever twirling on and on; deep as violins his pitch fiddle his electrical guitar's timbre command starry skies above! My tantrick abyss below. I love thee two, lovers mine. Punjabi voice lover divine. I thirst for yours all's mine Our stars wisely magnetized! Both cosmically energized. A state of knowing is ours. dancing eons on two poles, to twirl on and ages on, the mornings and eves long. I twirl on two magestic poles. Long shiny studs hard as steal! First pole's twirl echoes longer Kemah lover elite's older   ancient memory hunger! Implant blue pill chip slumber. From willow tree, past pole lover to renewed beloved my forever Kemah twin oaks two glistening poles I am art twirl divine from past to present LOVE Lives on and on! ~~~ By Karijinbba All Rights Revised 7-29-21.
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Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 12:58 PM UTC
Kemah beloved
the sun is sad the moon was there he looked in bad as the injustice the land was overlapped it was occupied and the dark landed the stars were in pale as in old pole they do not attract as the justice disappeared who will return the right to the weaken and broken mind after it went wide GOD only GOD
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Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 5:44 PM UTC
THE SUN AND THE MOON
exactly what I told so bold: not only you own a tired soul, but also feeling colder than north pole...
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Jan 1, 2020
Jan 1, 2020 at 4:07 PM UTC
quote
I am ageing, It's just a number, The number of candles have increased on my birthday cake. I have got heavier, The width of my waist has increased, There are wrinkles where my smiles were, I pole dance with the safety bar in the bathtub, Every time I cough or sneeze my radiator leaks, My exhaust backfires, I tend to forget, I am not perfect, But, I don't care. I have become more compelling, I am more silent, More wiser , more smiling, With greater intuition. My mind is a fountain of  youth, I am fun, I am now background music, I am soothing My family and their friends connect to me, I fuel their soul, They feel safe. I may be an old model but my engine still runs smoothly.
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Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 4:51 AM UTC
Ageing
On the pole I dance Wild and free Doing flips And tricks For all to see On the pole I forget The harsh reality Embraced in music I can truly be Carefree On the pole I can pretend To be anybody at all Elegantly entwined Both body and soul This Persona of mine Who's not afraid to fall On the pole I dance My wildest dreams Feeling the lyrics Of a song Synching my Heart To each beat On the pole I Dance Within a room Filled by stars Gleaming with light Portraying the beauty Of the night On the Ground I land Perfectly safe and sound No applause but silence Littered all around Looking into the mirror I'm standing there proud There's nobody but me Outterly spellbound On the pole #
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Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 5:46 AM UTC
On the pole
happenstance collided, coincided, coagulated, et cetera with hormonally graphic, dumbfounded circumstance hence, only by a fluke did I manage to worm winning trust among Christmas elves and reindeer vowing confidence as a confidante sans this generic guy, would never breach insidious, impious, illustriously scandalous tidbits, into a an underground impregnable air-raid shelter, the motley crue tied blindfold over my eyes, didst steer me hermetically sealed sound (cloud) proof coed bunker, though escapades emanated noise asper a clunker subsequently followed by wail of “just dunk her,” while ensconced (security detail munchkins, who just so happened tubby queer minded entrance portal) only after getting the thumb up signal, whereat nose pies planted espionage surveillance devices the chief head honcho and attendents, Smoky and the bandits respectively, magically, andhandily did ap pear and despite one hundred percent bug free, a whispered stance opted just to make sure no unwanted eavesdropper could overhear plus every participant swore an oath, cuz any leaked real or “FAKE” information, would spell imminent demise to be near the upshot, sans grave emergency describing clandestine arraignment involving some rogue elf (most likely at least two), and a misbehaving reindeer (names withheld to avoid any spoiler alert, plus this entire kit and caboodle necessary to help Saint Nick got wind, (and subsequently reined in) a rave orgiastic party with orgamsic oohs and aahs *** drugs and rock and roll, that a band aided elf(ves) laced with Pepper Minstix (anonymously hashtagged ***** and Gomorrah) sullied pure as the driven snow repute, when alias Sugarplum Mary (“FAKE NAME”) detected snorting ******* code named Alabaster Snowball, while additionally besmirching her virginity via ****** cavorting amidst a Bushy Evergreen shaking as if frenzied with feverish boogie woogie flu which seductive, prurient, and master baiter friend zeed (spunky gangnum style) Shinny Upatree which could slay Wunorse Openslae reputation as substance abusers, and *** offenders if not worse.
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Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 1:20 AM UTC
treasured untold shenanigans of santa, his elves and reindeer
happenstance collided, coincided, coagulated, et cetera with hormonally graphic, dumbfounded circumstance hence, only by a fluke did I manage to worm winning trust among Christmas elves and reindeer vowing confidence as a confidante sans this generic guy, would never breach insidious, impious, illustriously scandalous tidbits, into a an underground impregnable air-raid shelter, the motley crue tied blindfold over my eyes, didst steer me hermetically sealed sound (cloud) proof coed bunker, though escapades emanated noise asper a clunker subsequently followed by wail of “just dunk her,” while ensconced (security detail munchkins, who just so happened tubby queer minded entrance portal) only after getting the thumb up signal, whereat nose pies planted espionage surveillance devices the chief head honcho and attendents, Smoky and the bandits respectively, magically, andhandily did ap pear and despite one hundred percent bug free, a whispered stance opted just to make sure no unwanted eavesdropper could overhear plus every participant swore an oath, cuz any leaked real or “FAKE” information, would spell imminent demise to be near the upshot, sans grave emergency describing clandestine arraignment involving some rogue elf (most likely at least two), and a misbehaving reindeer (names withheld to avoid any spoiler alert, plus this entire kit and caboodle necessary to help Saint Nick got wind, (and subsequently reined in) a rave orgiastic party with orgamsic oohs and aahs *** drugs and rock and roll, that a band aided elf(ves) laced with Pepper Minstix (anonymously hashtagged ***** and Gomorrah) sullied pure as the driven snow repute, when alias Sugarplum Mary (“FAKE NAME”) detected snorting ******* code named Alabaster Snowball, while additionally besmirching her virginity via ****** cavorting amidst a Bushy Evergreen shaking as if frenzied with feverish boogie woogie flu which seductive, prurient, and master baiter friend zeed (spunky gangnum style) Shinny Upatree which could slay Wunorse Openslae reputation as substance abusers, and *** offenders if not worse.
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I've got my warrior ******* on Wolverine lent me these acrylics Lasso your credit card with my weave Tuck your tunnel vision in my G-string This is my ******* song Got my bad girl heels on You can't get me off your mind So how you gonna get me off Come over to the throne room I've got an after for you baby What other religion costs $25 per song Give me your devotion I want Matronage Ritual When I was 19 I turned days into kalediscopes Water into water Paper covers rock And coke cures a bad trip Trip over my perfume You won't spend money on me High on life So let's get you depressed Tell me your story sad boy I've got rent to pay.
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Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 12:19 AM UTC
Late night religion
She should be sexier than my dreams, Even more so should she be supportive, Not selfish at all she should ideally be. She should be kinder than even me, Even more so should she be cooperative, Unimaginably beautiful she would be. She better be the inspiration I need, Even for my poetry apart from my life, Converting my blues to brighter hues. She should have in beautiful pairs, Even both of her eyes along with hands, Untamable be her spirit in the night. She should have her arms slender, Even her waist should be such a ****** Above or under it will never matter. She should learn awesome cooking, Even singing will my mother be teaching, Only that she has to be willing to learn. She will have my company all the time, Even dessert will be present in the bedroom, Only I will love the two of her softies, And she can grab my golf ***** As my pole goes in and out of her hole.
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Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 4:01 AM UTC
Two For The Dessert After The Dinner
She's pure alley cat With fur and fluff so soft She let's me pet her If I put a hundred in the cuff She dances like a pole cat Around and around she swings Up and down the bar Spreading her butter flying wings She can screech and howl She's got the sharpest nails When I  jump on her back She really gives me Hell She's every boy's dream come true She every boy's nightmare She's purely into herself She's a wink and your last prayer
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May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
Pole Cat Love
Welcome my darling, love welcome. Enter this realm I created with love, Into that inner room you follow me. Stout & charming reddish cylinder, Curious you look closely at the pole, Muscles have stiffened up so much. Eager as we both had expected this, I look into the lovehole you possess. In the lovehole I insert my lovepole.
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
The Flag Of Love Is Hoisted High
Your mommy thinks it's great and rewards you with a bowl of ice cream and a sticker after she just gave you a bath once being your twenty two is a little strange I'm just saying. When all your Facebook friends like it and yet you've never actually met one of your two thousand Facebook friends. I'm not saying your a loser cause you live your live online well yes I am sorry I'm a **** When you write endless poems about how everyone in this world sucks look sure people are a pain in the *** . But maybe instead of listening to hours of music about suicide and other teenage horse **** maybe you should step out the door go into that strange place called the outdoors get a drink get laid and try having a life instead of just ******** about everyone else. When other people are brought to tears before you read the first line. Yeah sure I want to listen to hours of spoken word poetry. And maybe have a root canal as well. Well at least with a root canal there's some free drugs. Look get a keg maybe some other party favors and a wet T shirt contest and that's a poetry reading you can count me in for. When everyone on a website gives you a hundred likes and not a single comment yes the like button I hate it if you didn't know. How do you know when your poetry ***** . Well when it's used by the government to interrogate suspected terrorist at the airport and suspect screams out in agony . Look whatever happened to good old fashioned water and car batteries and jumper cables ? When your favorite subject is the girlfriend that ripped your heart out and how your life isn't worth living since she left. When if you had spent more time hitting the sack and less time working on her tenth sonnet. Maybe she wouldn't be getting jack hammered by your best friend. Hey write about that video they put out she's a total freak. Sorry bout your loss now what was her number? Yes bad poetry it's enough to drive a mental man sane trust me that's why I drink so I can forget half the crap I've read . Stay crazy kids . Drinks on me Gonzo
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Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
You Know Your Poetry ***** When
Your mommy thinks it's great and rewards you with a bowl of ice cream and a sticker after she just gave you a bath once being your twenty two is a little strange I'm just saying. When all your Facebook friends like it and yet you've never actually met one of your two thousand Facebook friends. I'm not saying your a loser cause you live your live online well yes I am sorry I'm a **** When you write endless poems about how everyone in this world sucks look sure people are a pain in the *** . But maybe instead of listening to hours of music about suicide and other teenage horse **** maybe you should step out the door go into that strange place called the outdoors get a drink get laid and try having a life instead of just ******** about everyone else. When other people are brought to tears before you read the first line. Yeah sure I want to listen to hours of spoken word poetry. And maybe have a root canal as well. Well at least with a root canal there's some free drugs. Look get a keg maybe some other party favors and a wet T shirt contest and that's a poetry reading you can count me in for. When everyone on a website gives you a hundred likes and not a single comment yes the like button I hate it if you didn't know. How do you know when your poetry ***** . Well when it's used by the government to interrogate suspected terrorist at the airport and suspect screams out in agony . Look whatever happened to good old fashioned water and car batteries and jumper cables ? When your favorite subject is the girlfriend that ripped your heart out and how your life isn't worth living since she left. When if you had spent more time hitting the sack and less time working on her tenth sonnet. Maybe she wouldn't be getting jack hammered by your best friend. Hey write about that video they put out she's a total freak. Sorry bout your loss now what was her number? Yes bad poetry it's enough to drive a mental man sane trust me that's why I drink so I can forget half the crap I've read . Stay crazy kids . Drinks on me Gonzo
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