"ands" poems
***** ***** I **** *****
***** get ****** when I **** *****
No ifs, ands, and/or buts!
I **** ***** I **** *****
Nice girls are nice, but no good for nut-sucking.
They'll need a serene night to green-light a butt-fucking,
but that'll be easy with ****** ol' slut-fucking!
Boo to the nice girls! Praise be to slut-fucking!
I have a list. A list? Yes, a list of all the ***** I've missed.
I've never ****** or ****** these ***** and thus my nuts are ******* ******
So when I **** the lucky **** my nut removes her from the list---
another dumb cumbucket struck from my nut-sucking,
**** it, **** slut-fucking bucket list.
***** can be white, brown, pink, or almond.
They can be skinny with big **** or skinny with small ones.
***** can be perky, preppy, or posh,
with their brains and their clothes all shrunk from the wash.
But other ***** are pretty and funny and smart.
They can lift your thoughts from your **** to your heart.
They can talk about science, music, or art.
They can put you together or pull you apart.
But don't trust these ***** Don't! Don't you dare!
They'll force you to trust them and love them and care.
And then they'll be gone and then you'll be aware
of that hole in your heart that that dumb **** left there.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
Accuracy of your acrostic arrows,
Ride the wind with utmost ease.
Claiming each bulleye with poetic precision,
Hands steady, unswayed by the errant breeze.
Endowed with talent, unsurpassed finesse,
Regarded by peers as the wise-worded wiz.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
As I picture myself in the future
Through years of HRT
Small glimmers of excitement
Reflect off the walls of my heart
I rarely feel excitement these days
So this instance is important
I picture ****** hair and muscles
A deepened voice ands flat chest
The physical changes excite me
It's the social ones that scare me
I cannot imagine having male privilege
I cannot imagine not feeling objectified
I cannot imagine being read as a man
I was raised in a position of oppression
I am constantly stared at and made into
Nothing more than the prospect of my genitals
And yet,
One day,
It will no longer be that way
I'll just look like a basic white boy
And they'll have no idea
Except that I will not stay silent
I will not hide in the shadows
I am transmasculine and nonbinary
And I refuse to remain invisible
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 2:16 PM UTC
It is
And it's changing
The wind into summer shower
Into mushrooms and birds mouth
From river to the sewer
It is and it's changing
From dark to light to dim with
Speckles of sun born by the
Mirror in you childlike hand
You are catching dust bunnies
Sneezing and laughing
And the dirt could be followed by magic
And the kiss isn't greased by the notion
Of sin and the sin is only a word from the book
Death and insanity
Are frightening and profound
Your world is built from
No buts but ands
And they flow into peace
Just as well as the film of oil
On the ***** puddle
Astonishes you with
An iridescent rainbow
Duality is born by fear
You split and separate so
Caught up in the survival game
To keep that face and partake
Of wealth and fame
Empty is locked in the dungeon
And the words interlock
In plain patterns
Yet alive as they produce sounds
And the smell of tangerines
On a tree by the coast of Sicily
Reminds you of the day
When you could still enjoy
The warmth of sun
It absorbed into its juicy flesh
And there's no need to run
No need to stay
No need to cut off the ties
When life offers you more
And the heat and cold are feelings
That gets names as they replace each other
As they flow unstoppable
Dripping reactions
Burning like acid and smooth like milk
All in one glass
And when you have no thoughts
Ask questions
And when you feel the pain
Stay present and consider humanity
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC
My doctor as you
Call me your sweeties
I want your fleshy needle
I want your love
I want kisses
I fantasize about holding ands with you
While riding your fleshy needle
Our eyes smiling at each other
As I lean in to kiss you
Doctor
Examine me with your fleshy needle
You tounge and your
Hands
Explore my body
As I explore you sweetly
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 11:12 PM UTC
Boolean Logic
you say it isn't logical
if it's not black or white
it's either positive or negative
either day or night
can't be 6 of one
half dozen of the other
you know what I mean
know what I'm sayin brother
make up your mind
just give me the truth
don't wrap me in a cord
in a telephone booth
is it “A” or “B”
it's gotta be part of a set
I work with truths
before I place my bet
binary numbers that intersect
ands or nots or or's it can be
part of the superset
the limbs of the tree
true or false
you just gotta decide
algebraic notation
proves if you lied
could you be wrong
could there be areas of gray
in matters of love
it's not just what you say
sometimes it's what's missing
that matters the most
no salty or sweet
like a piece of dry toast
is science perfect
how the hell would I know
can only go by
the factors that show
but I got this feeling
it's more than neurologic
in matters of the heart
it takes more than boolean logic
Gomer Lepoet
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 12:54 PM UTC
I gained weight
my shoulde(r)s slouch(e)d
at the burden
I am carrying
that'(s) increasing
with my age
as time piles
my waist ex(p)ands
fertility is just an adjective
with(o)ut a part(n)er
sen(sib)ly carry(i)ng
(li)fe's weigh(t)
(y)ou
Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 7:14 AM UTC
These lines are written
In the slow nowhere zone of sleep
My fingers animated with thoughts
All their own
I don't have to pretend
Ambien's licking in
Like a donkey straight
To the beck of my neck
I've seen it done enough time
Not to fooled into thinking it's here for
Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna hara hara hara Rama. Hara Rama , ram EMram hare hare.
Maybe that's the strong wind that guided my pen
Benevolent trickster soon to.bury. The things
that make him whole
Someone is mowing theirbli
It happens on ambien
But I swear there's. Meaning somewhere hidden between bags of honey oil **** ands great changjbbbbb
He might be a nice guy...... Nice and buxom, he could eliminate the thy free of before his Pixar
My mind thinks one thing and fgisvonytspio
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
you see bob delahunty, one da7y developed this website, where he takes people on quests
to find out whether or not really exists, and first stop was jerusealum, where he spoke to a rabbi,
and bob asked the question does GOD exist, and the rabbi said, i can be your saviour where
whenever you need any answers, i can show you, ok,
after that, bob went to the BUDDHIST temple in taibet, and the buddhist nuns said, god is just
a couple of easy answers, we need people to understand that the answer is to mend every blade of grass
and bob left thinking mmmmm interesting, and the muslims said, god, there is no god, but there is mohammad,
and he is the same, as this GOD, and bob went away singing
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD, THE DEVIL, ANNNND BOB
the next part of bobs quest was going over to the catholic church and after 12 minutes of hearing the boring catholic morals
bob went over to the priest, how many children have you ****** today, and priest got offended in what bob asked, and through
bob outside, with the tune going, god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD, THE DEVIL, AND BOB
bob was kicked out of every religious place in the world, so he decided to gather some religious freaks, to form his own religion
going out on the underground to meet different religious people on the street, first was wendy sweeeeet lips who was a ****** by night
nun and helper of the poor by day, and she was nice to bob, ands bob said, i can get a decent **** out of this pretty lady, time and time again
and when the nun was asked to leave the catholic church despite her keeping the ****** bit to herself, she decided to join BOB, religion
by a man named bob, bob had this philosophy, no ugly wannabes, just **** legs and pretty faces
bob asked the hooker-nun, do you think GOD exists, and they said, we don’t hate any religion, but, we hate catholics, because, their morals
are against our good work here, we don’t have a GOD, policy here, we are the face of the devil, but the devil brings happiness,
you know to angry *** crazed men, aren’t they needed to wipe off the angry look, and bob went away, who cares, and sang his song
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD THE DEVIL, WHO IS BOB
and bob said, who cares if i’m the devil
i don’t look at the symbol of jesus nailed to a cross being a symbol of peace
jesus exixts, but the way he is killed is the REAL DEVIL
BECAUSE, all together now
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
GOD, THE DEVIL, AND BOB
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
No tengo - Spanish for don't have
<•>
*woke up bushy and mushy,
"Siri, get my muse on the line,"
wise *** asked which one,
guess she was feeling feisty
as well as girl-gorgeous,
poem perfect on a July 2 Sunday
fake growled and she said
"alright, alright, just a sec..."
"0 Muse, it's me,
it's not even seven am,
got the urge, ready to cruise,
pick me one of my Natman outfit de-skyizes and
let us write many jive poems
let us write till the sunsets texts us
sire, dude,
I'm
just above the horizon,
poems no mas,
unless you will write by
the fire of the maister's grill"
My Muse,
strangely morose, denies replies,
"sorry sire, (she's nice English)
all of the available words
have been purchased until
July twenty tooth"
What, I screamed, threatened and challenged,
must be one of those rude dude tech billionaires,
who think limitless is just another word for more please!
Siri
"get me god on the line so I can maccabee end,
this poetic oppression"
***** an old friend,
an A list star of many prior writs,
would surely insist that a
special rabbinical dispensation,
could be found to squeeze nattyman me,
a few thousand or so
God (looking straight at him, makes him crazy)
"so many things I do not have such as,
your prolificacy,
making me jealous that all your poets
rain down in greater quantities
than I can manufacture clear crystallinely
but now is the hour of your power,
the minute of my need,
give me some words please"
the disembodied voice's disemboweled me
"sorry son,
gotta run,
if it is words you want,
suggest get an in with
wordvango and betterdays,
me, no tengo!
their profligacy,
poems by the hour
have drained the list,
and had I not put a stop to it,
they would have taken them all
till Christmas!"
*So made me some future reservations,
selling them likes suns, 3 for a dollar,
which is even cheaper, (Eliot!)
no ifs and ands about (it)
come see the maister natser,
my words are made of obsidian
and specialty Valyrian steel,
and nobody eats my words
they just-wink at them,
then lift some, a nice steal
cause I never read a poem
undeserving
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 6:02 PM UTC
Wi yer eyes stingin n wet wi tears
N muk bungin up tha nose n ears
N a white rimmed ed where thi's ad thi hat
Up tha floats on't lift like a drownded rat
After twelve hours tha's pretty dun in
Whilst t'other folks as been kippin n dreamin
Tha's bin diggin n drillin like summart daft
Now up tha floats on't hydraulic raft
The cold morn air meks tha lungs urt
Cause tha's bin breathin muk n dirt
Fer nigh on forty years or more
That most folks wudn't ave on't floor
N as tha washes all't muk away
Tha knows thas sum that'll allus stay
N whilst outside tha luks nice n clean
Tha's stuff inside thi th't'll never be seen
Until o course tha's gon n died
N them docter fellers tek a look inside
N in amazement they'll stand n stare
At all that muk th't shudn't be there
N wen tha's ded it'll be nowt new
Not too a bloke what's lived like you
Fer now tha's on'y six feet under
Wen undreds is what thas bin used to
N't Crowner'll say thi ad a natural death
Not like them th't had their last breath
At sixteen, seventeen, twenty or more
When sum big explosions brought ceiling t floor
But a doubt if tha'll think it wer thi turn
As tha lays there nattering t worm
Crawlin in n out o yer ears
Not much t show fer sixtyodd years
Still what else cud you ave dun, that's it
But follow yer old man down pit
A mean even his dad was a facer tha knows
Kem out at thirty wi' ands like claws
Ah well it's time fer sum grub
Then half-a-dozen pints't pub
Wi an hour or two o noonday sun
Then back t wife fer an hour o fun
N be six next morning I'll be feelin well
As I teks yon raft t bowels of 'ell
Thirty shillin a week be summer the reckonin
Ah but then they can't see yon worm beckonin
Remember this is a 'Performance Poem'
and the style of writing acts as a
speech prompt. The accent is loosely
Yorkshire. A 'Crowner 'is an old word
for a Coroner.
I hope you enjoy it.
© David Irwin Phillips 2008
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 2:03 AM UTC
From grey plaster dwellin’s they come to us
fer enough sun t’ melt their lollies but
after sun-burnt migrations, some remain
as they can choose our shacks fer their castles
and their spawn breaks the spines on each weaver
and fer their red-faced fuss ‘e is broken.
The ‘ermit crab too takes ‘is leave broken.
The ‘ome ‘e made now closed to all of us
Not passed by ta’ooed ‘ands o' net weavers.
The painted shells still litter these streets but
suited slugs paint gray on our small castles
till only mockin’ shades of age remain.
“Shave off, bastards’ll pick till none o’ yer remain”
screamed mad John as relaters “fixed ‘im” broken
into some plastic ‘ouse from ‘is castle.
‘ow ‘e used t’ tell those old tales to us
'o the deep places and the things there but
they ‘ad ‘im by the gills, poor old weaver.
Spines down, in nets made by ‘is own weavin.
we did it to ourselves, we can’t remain
Wi’ nets o’ money, o’ ***** o’ smokes, but
black flags still fly, bein’ bent never broken.
Cross-bone attractions will be left as us
‘eld by those who took away our castles
Stormin’ beaches to kick down our castles
the sandy ‘oles and ‘ides of those weavers.
Sellin’ our anger like lug, dear to us
cast from the sea of us that will remain
‘ook lipped, ring-eared, ink-stained and not broken
nothin’ t’ be fixed and no-one changed but
In come those nets, I ‘aint been caught yet but
that gray, that London gray sweeps my castle
away where the concrete can’t be broken
t’ reach lug beneath dried surface weavers
as gulls break beaks t’ peck at the remains.
yes, we’ll eat each-other if they take us.
Take enough of us, and leave shell castles
no ‘ands to ‘old jolly Rodgers and sing
‘appily swear, or dance on tables but
**** that.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
Fiddlededee days devour the sparks of inspired nights.
Kindling the middle of winter afternoons, end too soon.
Here
and
Now.
Sometimes, it is good.
Ladies linger in the shower, shave their legs but blood is thick.
Paying for the middle of winter afternoons, end too soon.
There
and
How.
Sometimes, it needs enormity.
Yes, yet
Sometimes, it takes too long.
Buts
or
Ands?
Libraries of looks in lieu of winter afternoons, refuse to end too soon.
Libraries of discontent in ***** diaries, ***** living rooms.
Sometimes, it is something.
Whats
or
When's the clean part start?
Sometimes atoms seem enormous as winter afternoons refusing to end too soon.
Showers of sparks scratch ****** demarcations into rickety winter bones.
Sometimes, it is enormously good.
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
Thank you
For thinking i’m funny
thank you
For catering to my whims
Thank you
For being undemanding
Thank you
For being a gentleman
Thank you for caring
Thank you
For sharing
Thank you
For being honest
Thank you
For letting me swear
Thank you
For letting me be faithless
Thank you
For bringing me calm
Thank you
for letting me love you
I just wish I could be her
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 3:58 AM UTC
"Escribe con los pies, poeta de la calle"
"Write with your feet, poet of the street"
days of no inspiration,
nights of emptiness irritation,
labor strife strives to divide,
the desire, the greedy needy,
to unburden, touch lips to tablet,
unsatisfied, muse departed
for foreign lads in foreign lands,
where dark eyed ladies sing
put the load right right on me
where once I saw poetry,
now I see lessons of less,
trees blowing whipped me frenzied,
saw cappuccino foaming,
revisited, now, see but tired dancers,
de-auditioned, sent home to wonder,
poets with paper cuts but no bleeding,
so eager so desirous of conceiving, thinking,
will I ever......................................again
once, every step a poem,
every sidewalk crack,
a smack down of nuance,
eye recorded,
mind disordered,
run home, to dance
each vision into words,
gloria, glorious just to walk
my city streets
once upon a time,
a traffic light rainbow,
stopped n' go, was a word design,
demarcated visions of spun sugar,
bodegas sold me
magic beans by the pound,
masterminded into cups of delight,
treasury's bounty overflowed,
now, dregs drain, sink stained,
as are my writing utensils,
my ink stained, us-less, fingers
come visit me, unknown stranger,
let us exchange fluidity, barbs,
a contest of kissing, eye lashing
wit ands shared vision stashing,
and together, once more,
write with our feet,
while holding hands,
becoming once more
poets of the street.
Only, come quickly,
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
The waitress said she didn't have any paper
As she took orders and names and personalities
And wandered
Tables ands kitchens and free bread
54 wants less water
Tom needs more water
Vinegar allergies and detailed taste
Unsalted saltines are a fountain of youth
As she takes my name and phone
And never calls again
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
If tomorrow was that yesterday,
or that morning
came tonight
if for a moment you could have listened
if you didn't always have to be right
if she realized the words
Get out
really meant
You’d love her help
if you swallowed more than pills
or thought about
more than just yourself
but yesterday left in a sunset
obscured
by a cloud of pride
and for tomorrow
it’s still not too late
but you're running out of time
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
GOD THE DEVIL AND BOB at easter
today it’s good friday and bob delahunty was going to church to have a
hot cross bun feast, and a hungry poor buddhist was going into the church
and asked bob, why do the christians like to eat over easter, what is it all about
and bob said, it’s a time where families, forget about their differences and share
a big celebration, with hot cross buns today after their service and then on easter
they will host family get togethers, where the kids are forced to hunt for eggs
that the parents hid in the garden, it is a very good day, and the buddhist man said
why can’t christians be nice to each other every day, like us buddhists ands bob said,
well, i guess your right, but life hands us problems to fix, like divorce and family quarrels
and battles that can’t be resolved, you see we are always away from loved ones and easter
is a way to keep updated on where our loved ones are, and then the buddhist asked bob
why can’t they scype every night and then bob said, buddy, no person really wants to do that,
actually, it is great to give families fun at easter, like sending kids on easter hunts, how radical dude
and have great hot cross bun morning teas, where we all can feast, yeah, if we did these things every day
we would get so fat, and kids will be so greedy, and we need every city in the land to pop
open the champagne corks, saying HAPPY EASTER DUDES, AND TO ALL A HAPPY FEASTING
you see easter if you add an f, could mean, the annual feaster, but we took the f away to make you feel great
and then the buddhist said, ok but what if you were fasting in a remote country and you had to knock
back the hot cross buns and easter eggs and bob said ok, yeah, if your fasting you must say no, i am on a diet
and the buddhist said, what if you went to a nightclub and got heavily ****** from vodkas and rums etc etc
and get too drunk on easter saturday, are you still expected to roll up to family get togethers on easter sunday
and bob said yes, then the buddhist said, how do you cope, HOW THE **** DO YOU COPE
this is how, you sing
god is the devil and the devil is grog
god is the devil and the devil is grog
god is the devil and the devil is grog
especially round easter time where drinking may send you back and forwards to the sink spewing
and the buddhist asked bob one thing, before he went to tiabet, he asked, is there really such thing as a devil
because every night i drink a whole bottle of wine by myself and bob said, well if the devil was grog i think
i am the devil, cause, grog is my cup of tea
and the buddhist went home and bob left saying this one word, misbehave, everyone who drinks grog misbehaves
and there is nothing wrong with that, bob said happy easter and went back to the devil’s hideout and the buddhist blessed him
saying, the devil, there is no such thing
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
fools, ,you see ted bunny and ronnie biggs are saying the fools have been trapped in my snowstorm
and in the category 3 cyclone marcia in queensland, nobody listens to the ploy of cronus and barry allan
even if they are trying to keep them safe, and ted bundy who flew around aistralia trying too make
marcia and lam, really ruin australia, and keep these americans trapped in snowy weather, keep kids from
learning, by closing the schools, and cronus with barry allan’s help, was trying to get people to rally together
to make everyone happy, and safe, we can’t save everyone, but we could ****** well try
and then ted bundy said heh heh the fools, thinking these waters are safe to swim in, but ted isn’t shy
he is evil enough to make people lose their lives, we must listen to authorities as opposed for doing the
right thing, you see they call this nature, i call it cosmic attack, a really fierce cosmic attack, nobody can
see the clear sky ahead, in order for people not dying from this sort of thing, and that is, don’t do stupid things
ronnie biggs also is making the category 3 cyclones marcia and lam and a terrible snowstorm in the states
you see these vicious killers are doing more harm here, than they did on earth, they are ruining families
from all over the place, and elvis presley cancelled his neptune concert, to make the jewish messiah daniel
who is his earth body, to think that he needs to start thinking of trying to save people from these terrible
snowstorms and category 3 cyclones, you see, he thinks he is forcing the cyclone probably, but we all know
that ronnie biggs and ted bundy are forcing them, i think this country concentrates too much in celebrating
the jewish messiah’s previous life, and making him sleep like a pack of rich arrogant ***** but even if he
wants to work anywhere, he wanted to get into library studies but instead of that, he is playing all over
the planets, singing elvis is a schizophrenic and everyone seems fine with that, but, instead of looking
at relief web. int, you should help us finish off ted bundy and ronnie biggs evil and cunning plan, to
force the dreadful end of the world, you know what i think, if people listen to lifeguards and not going
out to these fierce seas, the end of the world wouldn’t come, we must pray to buddha, that these people
are safe, so when marcia hits, they are not out there battling the cyclone caused by ronnie biggs and
ted bundy, please, buddha help, cronus ands barry allan battle these dreadful spirits, ,and make the
storm ease, there are a lot of snow trapping innocent americans and all ted bundy and ronnie biggs
can say is heh heh heh, these fools are falling right into my trap
PLEASE BUDDHA SAVE THESE PLACES, MAKE PEOPLE SAFE BUDDHA
MAKE THE SURF LIFESAVERS, WORK HARDER TO PREVENT PEOPLE GOING OUT
MAKE PEOPLE IN THE USA, JUST SIT IT OUT
UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM
ronnie biggs and ted bundy are sitting in saturn club rings saying foolish earthlings
they are falling right into my little trap
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
They say "when you know, you know"
And they're absolutely right
There's no grey area or blurred lines
There's only black and white
There's no ifs ands or buts
There's no uncertainty or fear
There's just that feeling in your gut
And you must listen when it appears
I'm not just talking about love
This applies to most things in life-
No matter what your head is thinking,
Your heart is usually right
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 12:28 AM UTC
A flame wihout its
heat is as useless as a poetry without a thought.
What is man without a soul? Can he be called human at all? How
useful is an empty house that stands on a barren hill? A man
not capable of thinking? A blank book? Or a sun without the grace of a fire? How good is
the wind without the trees? Or the birds that worship its strength? How good is the ocean without
the fishes? Or the human that embraces its wealth? All things are interconnected and interdependent.
Like air to mankind and to the trees. And trees to mankind and to the soil. Like air to the waters.
Waters to mankind. Waters to the soil. As fire to man as to the trees. Mankind to the trees and
to the soil. And trees to the soil, fire to the soil, man, fire. Fire and man. The fire within a man. Enflaming
the soul of another man. We are all relatives in the dance of life. We are integral part of the earth.
The air, the waters, the sun and the moon. Everything is hitched to everything else. The air,
the waters, the sun and the moon. The salt of the ocean is in our blood. The calcium of the rocks
is in our bones. The genes of ten thousand generations is in our cells. The fire of the sun king is in our spirits. The might of the winds is in our lungs. The most powerful element of the universe is in our hearts. The mighty winds
rage and we bend for them. The fields yield and we kneel for them. The blossoms open and we rejoice.
One could not pluck a flower without hurting a star. The wolves could not haunt for a
meal without troubling a heart. An atom could not deteriorate without worrying
the universe. But along
the way man seems
to forget. And most
of the time, man does
not pay attention to
its depth. Man be-
comes too ignorant
to understand. That
man is the heart of it
all. The pulse that keeps
the system alive. Man ne-
eds not observe but feel. M
an needs to penetrate quite-
ly as earthworms. Underst-
ands as soils absorb water. Pon-
der as the winds gather strength. Spread
as the vines that overrun the yard. Let your flame be the
guiding light.Do not let it be the fire that burns.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 12:28 AM UTC
Almost everything we say
Seems to be a bit cliche'
Like practise makes perfect all the time
And out of sight, out of mind
Too many cooks spoil the brew
And what you do to others comes back to you.
Nobody likes a cry baby
No ifs, ands, buts or maybes.
These are just a few cliche's,
And here's some others we all say:
God bless the child who has his own.
No place like home sweet home.
He that fights and runs away
Lives to fight another day
What goes up must come down
What goes around comes around
Give me liberty, or give me death.
And you aint seen nothing yet.
The harder they come,the harder they fall
Keep your eyes on the ball
A small axe cut down big trees
And the best things in life are free
I could just go on and on
Probably until early morn
But I think my point is made
That our words are all cliche's
Feb 1, 2011
Feb 1, 2011 at 12:58 PM UTC
I just have a few words for you.
You hurt her
I hurt you.
You make her cry
I break your face.
You break her Heart
I will fight until the ends of the earth to get to you
and then I will bring you to her put you on your knees
Apologize for every tear you made her cry, every part of her body you might have touched.
For every time she forgave you, for every second she spent on you
For every time you made her think you were the one.
Then I will take you to meat shop cover you in meat and throw you in a dog pound.
Then I will comfort her and take her to get ice cream and make her feel like the Amazing girl she is.
SO THIS IN MY WARNING!!
HURT HER AND I HURT YOU
No if, ands, or but's about it.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
I’m in the streets
Tryin to get some flow
I do what I gotta
When my paper’s low
But I love my baby
And she lets me know
That what we have
Can only grow
I’m as much hers
As she is mine
I love my baby
She’s a special kind
I did the crime
But she did my time
Hood love saved me
And it’s good love baby
I’m on my grind
Both night and day
I do what I do
For the pay
But she don’t care
What people say
My baby loves me
Anyway
I’m as much hers
As she is mine
I love my baby
She’s a special kind
I did the crime
But she did my time
Hood love saved me
And it’s good love baby
They found my stash
She took the weight
But some of y’all
Find it hard to relate
How could I
Let her go upstate
But for me it was life
Her less than eight
See I appreciate
The love she gave me
There’s no ifs ands
Buts or maybe
She’s the mashed potatoes
And I’m the gravy
Hood love saved me
And it’s good love baby
They found my stash
She took the weight
But some of y’all
Find it hard to relate
How could I
Let her go upstate
But for me it was life
Her less than eight
I’m as much hers
As she is mine
I love my baby
She’s a special kind
I did the crime
But she did my time
Hood love saved me
And it’s good love baby
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC