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"ard" poems
1168 As old as Woe— How old is that? Some eighteen thousand years— As old as Bliss How old is that They are of equal years Together chiefest they ard found But seldom side by side From neither of them tho’ he try Can Human nature hide
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3.6k
As old as Woe—
THE CAMINO CHRONICLES ( Sidhe – Spirit, Ard Ri - High King, Tir na nOg – Land of eternal youth ) JUST A MOMENT AGO Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago Father in Time embracing Mothers Melody to rhyme Birthing Sidhe candles smile, lights of love, souls glory Stars dancing with joys release, Sidhe awakening to loves destiny Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago I stood upon Erins western shore amidst constellations considerations And dreamed I had sailed again across the eternal sea To Tir na nOg there returned to be Oisin the Wanderer no more, ever seeking my beloved Naimh’s shore Queen of the Sidhe, her consort again, Ard Ri of Eternity Ah my heart demands my Sidhe sings of Naimh’s wondrous beauty. . Her Eyes Like Twin Candles Dancing Lips Full Of Mysterys Promise Her Hair Bound, Crowned With Lustered Glory A Smile To Die For . . She Moves . . Sidhe Moves . . Like Poetry . . Aie, Her Voice, Her Voice, Like Honey and Cream Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago When love was a rose without thorns Before tides of centuries tears Swept us apart Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago The glorious moment of our days glory Our age of grace Father in Time embracing Mothers Melodys Grace. . INTO THE DARK What does a candle remember . . .? What does its flame recall . . .? Aiee Aiee . . . Akhenaten Flee We . . . Nefertiti Aieee Aieeeee Flee . .Flee . . . Undone We . . . Betrayal. .Flee Flee Akhenaten Akhenaten . . . Must Flee We . . . Wee Wans Take Nefertiti Holds . . . Flee We Must . . . Fleet . . . Flee Fleet . . . Harps heart has chambers that sigh with grief Ashes of roses burned with weeds Remains of our loves day Harps heart by hearts harp no music moved to test Hall of memories by no one chorus caress No whispered echo no candles smile no Nefertiti NOW MY CITADELS HALL I MUST NEEDS MY IRE RETREAT TO WHERE NEEDS MUST ABJURE DESIRE Once more to recite survivals bitter creed By heartstone embers to gnaw betrayals cold deed WILL TO BEAR SILENT DEEP EMPTY DAY HARP HEART STILLED by no Nefertiti played.
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Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
THE CAMINO CHRONICLES
THE CAMINO CHRONICLES ( Sidhe – Spirit, Ard Ri - High King, Tir na nOg – Land of eternal youth ) JUST A MOMENT AGO Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago Father in Time embracing Mothers Melody to rhyme Birthing Sidhe candles smile, lights of love, souls glory Stars dancing with joys release, Sidhe awakening to loves destiny Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago I stood upon Erins western shore amidst constellations considerations And dreamed I had sailed again across the eternal sea To Tir na nOg there returned to be Oisin the Wanderer no more, ever seeking my beloved Naimh’s shore Queen of the Sidhe, her consort again, Ard Ri of Eternity Ah my heart demands my Sidhe sings of Naimh’s wondrous beauty. . Her Eyes Like Twin Candles Dancing Lips Full Of Mysterys Promise Her Hair Bound, Crowned With Lustered Glory A Smile To Die For . . She Moves . . Sidhe Moves . . Like Poetry . . Aie, Her Voice, Her Voice, Like Honey and Cream Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago When love was a rose without thorns Before tides of centuries tears Swept us apart Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago The glorious moment of our days glory Our age of grace Father in Time embracing Mothers Melodys Grace. . INTO THE DARK What does a candle remember . . .? What does its flame recall . . .? Aiee Aiee . . . Akhenaten Flee We . . . Nefertiti Aieee Aieeeee Flee . .Flee . . . Undone We . . . Betrayal. .Flee Flee Akhenaten Akhenaten . . . Must Flee We . . . Wee Wans Take Nefertiti Holds . . . Flee We Must . . . Fleet . . . Flee Fleet . . . Harps heart has chambers that sigh with grief Ashes of roses burned with weeds Remains of our loves day Harps heart by hearts harp no music moved to test Hall of memories by no one chorus caress No whispered echo no candles smile no Nefertiti NOW MY CITADELS HALL I MUST NEEDS MY IRE RETREAT TO WHERE NEEDS MUST ABJURE DESIRE Once more to recite survivals bitter creed By heartstone embers to gnaw betrayals cold deed WILL TO BEAR SILENT DEEP EMPTY DAY HARP HEART STILLED by no Nefertiti played.
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48
I walked into Walgreen’s that night absorbed in my own little world. Soon after entering, I made my way to the line. My eyes d a n c e d to the crescent-moon shaped scar adorning the young clerk’s neck. With the gentleman in front of me, he spoke of camouflage and machine guns. Earlier times when he could only see his family through the lens of a webcam. When he first learned what it took to be a man. And when he learned what true loss really felt like. It’s my turn. I step f o r w ard and stare directly into his eyes and wonder how he ended up here. His face doesn’t give away much, he’s painted on a cordial smile and the air between us seeps with the remnants of small talk. But I can’t help wondering. I wonder, if he knows he’s more than he’s been told. more than he’s settled for. more than the orders he was commanded to obey. more than the lines he was expected to cross. more than the monster he had to become. To survive. I can’t help but wonder how he’s ended up here. Overseas— he’s ranked but now that he’s home on friendly soil, he’s thrown into department store positions and temporary jobs. I can only hope he’s better off than some of his friends tossed into psychiatrists offices. But I wonder, I wonder what memories might decide to plague his dreams. While he tries to figure out which pill alleviates which painful recollection. Which part of his past will come back to haunt him today and which of his friends lives will flash before his eyes while he tries to sleep. Norepinephrine firing through his brain like the gunshots he had to deliver. The U.S government is so quick to draft, but hasn’t learned how to welcome home. They hide their veterans in the dark corners of psych wards, allow them to get lost in the depths of their own minds, while the PTSD eats away whatever is left. These men fight for countries who don’t know what to do with them afterwards. What they both need to learn: There is life after war.
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Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC
(An Attempt) to welcome home.
I walked into Walgreen’s that night absorbed in my own little world. Soon after entering, I made my way to the line. My eyes d a n c e d to the crescent-moon shaped scar adorning the young clerk’s neck. With the gentleman in front of me, he spoke of camouflage and machine guns. Earlier times when he could only see his family through the lens of a webcam. When he first learned what it took to be a man. And when he learned what true loss really felt like. It’s my turn. I step f o r w ard and stare directly into his eyes and wonder how he ended up here. His face doesn’t give away much, he’s painted on a cordial smile and the air between us seeps with the remnants of small talk. But I can’t help wondering. I wonder, if he knows he’s more than he’s been told. more than he’s settled for. more than the orders he was commanded to obey. more than the lines he was expected to cross. more than the monster he had to become. To survive. I can’t help but wonder how he’s ended up here. Overseas— he’s ranked but now that he’s home on friendly soil, he’s thrown into department store positions and temporary jobs. I can only hope he’s better off than some of his friends tossed into psychiatrists offices. But I wonder, I wonder what memories might decide to plague his dreams. While he tries to figure out which pill alleviates which painful recollection. Which part of his past will come back to haunt him today and which of his friends lives will flash before his eyes while he tries to sleep. Norepinephrine firing through his brain like the gunshots he had to deliver. The U.S government is so quick to draft, but hasn’t learned how to welcome home. They hide their veterans in the dark corners of psych wards, allow them to get lost in the depths of their own minds, while the PTSD eats away whatever is left. These men fight for countries who don’t know what to do with them afterwards. What they both need to learn: There is life after war.
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65
Because of them Rules & rules again Using all their could to hold me away Ignoring all about my love Spying me like an adept Expecting I'm gonna forget Do not expect me to do it Hard as it could be Enraged towards them All a can is thinkin' Rage inside me To never forget him
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Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 1:04 PM UTC
✫ Bruised Heart ✫
Like a spider on ******* I weave dysfunction in   a      haphazard    way My web has huge              gaping                         holes It continues to u                          n                       r                          a                       v                         e                       l                         Stops short of beautiful I begin one segment then d          r          o          p it to start piecing together another My web lacks intricate details that would make it magnificant to others My web cannot function naturally the way instinct intended The holes in my web cause opportunities to fly right by and through leaving me hungry, confused and reliant on you This web is a silky mess So I'll just leave it be to end up on someone's eyelash as they acquiesce. Like a spider on ******* I         weave    dysfunction         in  a     hap-haz-ard                                                                           way.
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Like a Spider on *******
Sung and did not miss, watch this, where'swung a dub when we need vees lots and lots of vees the first friendly used many vees where we use double yous vees and bees sound so much alike, s'ard to tell Simultaneous, as always, other-ther things begin and end while I am contrating on a single point being made on a single pin, which is bearing witness to my assertincertainty that at least one thousand three hundred and ninety-two messages in lieu of angels, numbering in the billions if Sagan was right, fit per pineal node post initial exterior inhalation and that first draft look at this will you wontyou willyou wontyou one thousand three hundred and ninety-two guitar pickers in Nashville, Ten percent of whom are sworn to sing Rocky Top at every open mike in town every Saturday night and we survived, didn't starve or go plumb crazy, though we tried. It's good to be alive and remember imagining being abundantly more alive, and you know or not, I can't say. Did you read how Paradise, California burned for lack of rain? We heard, Down here in the Lagunas. All kinds o' folks prayed all kinds o'ways, and it rained. Mud-makin rain. Is it wrong to think the rain was called, if you can't imagine rain obeying a request for the jetstream to dip? Not here, we think right happens right here on purpose if you can imagine that a prayer, wave of a wing tip, an eagle's with permission. this is the eagle wing effect, rightused, should any attribute this to butterflies in China or Brazil. The eagle acknowledges the Pine Valley hummingbird who consented to make its final migration, so the rain had a path to follow.
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Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 8:21 PM UTC
Follow through ( a storm came before)
Sung and did not miss, watch this, where'swung a dub when we need vees lots and lots of vees the first friendly used many vees where we use double yous vees and bees sound so much alike, s'ard to tell Simultaneous, as always, other-ther things begin and end while I am contrating on a single point being made on a single pin, which is bearing witness to my assertincertainty that at least one thousand three hundred and ninety-two messages in lieu of angels, numbering in the billions if Sagan was right, fit per pineal node post initial exterior inhalation and that first draft look at this will you wontyou willyou wontyou one thousand three hundred and ninety-two guitar pickers in Nashville, Ten percent of whom are sworn to sing Rocky Top at every open mike in town every Saturday night and we survived, didn't starve or go plumb crazy, though we tried. It's good to be alive and remember imagining being abundantly more alive, and you know or not, I can't say. Did you read how Paradise, California burned for lack of rain? We heard, Down here in the Lagunas. All kinds o' folks prayed all kinds o'ways, and it rained. Mud-makin rain. Is it wrong to think the rain was called, if you can't imagine rain obeying a request for the jetstream to dip? Not here, we think right happens right here on purpose if you can imagine that a prayer, wave of a wing tip, an eagle's with permission. this is the eagle wing effect, rightused, should any attribute this to butterflies in China or Brazil. The eagle acknowledges the Pine Valley hummingbird who consented to make its final migration, so the rain had a path to follow.
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40
Help me by Ashton Ard Help me, is something I wish I could say, Just waiting until the day I can finally be freed from this prison I built around me. Everyday gets harder to breathe, I tear at my skin ripping off the weights holding me back, making me hold my breath. It's too late for me to be better, I've been bottled up for way too long. I wish I could be strong, like you all want me to be, choking back my tears, I wash away my fears, hoping to leave no trace of who I was. Who was that girl, who everyone thought was a lesbian? I don't know, because that was never me. I forced myself into a box, girls wear pink, boys wear blue, Help me, is something I wish I could say, just waiting until the day I can finally be freed from the prison I built around me. Boys play sports, girls play dolls, No! I scream, This world doesn't see the many colors of who you can really be. I rip at my chest, I rip at my hair, why can't I just be happy? it's the worlds fault for pushing us back. We're people too, We love just like you, Help me, I whisper underneath my breath. The prison walls around me fall down, I stand in the middle of a field, A single rainbow stands before me. Finally, I'm accepted, I'm loved, I'm happy. Thank you.
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Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 7:20 AM UTC
Help me
I used to be lysexic But I’m betting getter. I sometimes get letters All gangled up totether. I often lose tontrol Of the taction of my ung I had this tind of krubble Sever yince I was sung. I backed things saidward It muzz wore than embarrassing. It got me picked lot upon Subjected to hate grarrassing. Sometimes wumbers nould Lood just like wetters Back when I was lysdexic But I am betting getter. Not just lysdexic am me But I Spoonerise tum soo. And unce that sets started There is lo sittle I can do. It get’s ard to understand me And it isses some eeple poff I really bish I could weegin To **** to stalk like a toff. I used to be lysexic But I’m betting getter. I sometimes get letters All gangled up totether. I often lose tontrol Of the taction of my ung I had this kind of rubble Sever yince I was sung.
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Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC
I USED TO BE LYSDEXIC
*i was eating a pepperoni pizza today, and took a salty tongue into the night, £270 on my bank account - great stuff - took five quid out, felt like buying four oranjeboom reds at 8.5% each, instead bought two, and perrier carbonated glass-bottled water... god the thirst in this cement sahara...* the best transition accompanying drinking and listening to music comes from the heights of reggae to creedence clearwater revival... no, not the eagle, not Leonard the skin-head with an 'ard on... creedence... lebowski who was bukowski's posthumous alter-ego... so i did a galileo while drinking, the light on my side-table by the bed light glowed, put my sunglasses on... the stars disappeared and the planets appeared... oddly enough, as is usual the case of counter-intuitive matters when looking at astronomical geographies... mars far left... venus in the middle, and jupiter the biggest and therefore the brightest far right... i worked it out against linear tactics... the distance of the earth from venus doesn't make a difference with the distance from mars, but the distance of mars from jupiter is greater, see you in 100 years to prove the point and whether it matches up to HARD, NECESSARY, PROOFS... LIKE MAINTENANCE *** ******* a girl with a really really exaggerated libido, having to wear a ****** while she was on her period, in the toilet and she bewildered saying: 'most guys don't dig the female bits...' hell... i'd do necrophilia... shame the relationship turned to a sour toast with her, shame, really... really really. oh yeah, after smashing that £600 martin & co. guitar to celebrate valentines day (chłopiec z gitarą był by dla mnie parą my grandmother used to sing... well... sorry to disappoint, i had her rastafarian shoelaces for a pin-up belt to walk and play, or simply stand still and note string twangs... była giiitara... ni ma giiitary...) and bought myself a drum-kit: well... just my finger-drumming antics on my legs; or as a wise man said: **** her, leave the rest for a backward trek into life without maps but only premonitions.
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Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
a bottle of Perrier water
*i was eating a pepperoni pizza today, and took a salty tongue into the night, £270 on my bank account - great stuff - took five quid out, felt like buying four oranjeboom reds at 8.5% each, instead bought two, and perrier carbonated glass-bottled water... god the thirst in this cement sahara...* the best transition accompanying drinking and listening to music comes from the heights of reggae to creedence clearwater revival... no, not the eagle, not Leonard the skin-head with an 'ard on... creedence... lebowski who was bukowski's posthumous alter-ego... so i did a galileo while drinking, the light on my side-table by the bed light glowed, put my sunglasses on... the stars disappeared and the planets appeared... oddly enough, as is usual the case of counter-intuitive matters when looking at astronomical geographies... mars far left... venus in the middle, and jupiter the biggest and therefore the brightest far right... i worked it out against linear tactics... the distance of the earth from venus doesn't make a difference with the distance from mars, but the distance of mars from jupiter is greater, see you in 100 years to prove the point and whether it matches up to HARD, NECESSARY, PROOFS... LIKE MAINTENANCE *** ******* a girl with a really really exaggerated libido, having to wear a ****** while she was on her period, in the toilet and she bewildered saying: 'most guys don't dig the female bits...' hell... i'd do necrophilia... shame the relationship turned to a sour toast with her, shame, really... really really. oh yeah, after smashing that £600 martin & co. guitar to celebrate valentines day (chłopiec z gitarą był by dla mnie parą my grandmother used to sing... well... sorry to disappoint, i had her rastafarian shoelaces for a pin-up belt to walk and play, or simply stand still and note string twangs... była giiitara... ni ma giiitary...) and bought myself a drum-kit: well... just my finger-drumming antics on my legs; or as a wise man said: **** her, leave the rest for a backward trek into life without maps but only premonitions.
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53
My old man's a dustman He's in the pub today He'd be there all the bloomin' time If he had his way My old man's a dustman He don't give it's all take He plays his banjo late at night And keeps us all awake My old man's a dustman He loves his missus so He wouldn't swap her for the world I think she'd swap him though My old man's a dustman He once met the Queen He kept his hands behind his back 'Cos they weren't very clean My old man's a dustman He's really quite a card Friday night he'll take you on If you think you're 'ard My old man's a dustman He knows my Auntie Jean Every time she sees him She does a little scream My old man's a dustman Making no mistake When he finally pops his clogs There'll be quite a wake
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
My old man's a dustman
IN BED WITH STEPHEN KING backstage: Romeo tries it on Juliet 'its 'im 'ard the slap shocks the extras they pause mid-make-up Juliet's received pronunciation slips back into her native Cockney Romeo told to go forth and multiply anyway, Paris is more her type and oooh his *** in ahhhh...those tights Romeo's...ughhh....halitosis she winces with each kiss taste of garlic...cheap cigarettes an audience applauds the curtain falls glad to be just Jane again she takes time to un-Shakespeare her self boy but she could ****** a kebab Romeo: once again Andy her ex & yes yes she wants *** but...not with him Paris: now Peter gives her a saucy wnk "Hmm!" she thinks "Hmmm!" she imagines him nakedly mad for her sans tights...sans everything alas that wink was for Tybalt...god **** another night in bed with - Stephen King.
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Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 3:00 PM UTC
IN BED WITH STEPHEN KING
. wolfmother's song love train? oomph!        proper 'ard on! oomph!    and a wet snare... and your typical army slick waiting for the girlie girlie boys at the Edinburgh's Royal Mile zenith worth of the tattoo! **** me!    walking down Cow Gate? dreams are made of this, **** it... who needs dreaming? i have 3 years worth of Edinburgh in pocket...    and i'm not giving out spare change. of all the ethnic tribes on these cursed isles? the ones i became loved up the most? the Scots...        shame about the English swans up north... not so shy with you know who, right?    shame, really... all the love we could have made... the Irish, bearable... if the Welsh didn't speak Cymru, i couldn't tell them apart from the English...        **** sake's a scene from scent of a woman beginning with Al... and ending with Paccino - yes, there's an extra C in that name... otherwise? it's Allie Pakino; or the alternative to a cappuccino - or a kappa puck-in-oh; right now english doesn't belong the natives...   it's not a language i'm to subscribe to, as a tool for integration...    right now?    it's a ******* toy! (insert snigger and breaking laughter): choo! ha ha! choo choo! ha ha ha ha! choo! chow mein! ha ha!    choo choo, choo choo train! ******** the size of bloated elephant craniums!
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC
memories of a city
mashed a butt'n 'n my shirt had t' sew 'n an'ther 'ne mashed a butt'n 'n my keyb'ard n'w I'm a v'wel sh'rt
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Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
N_t An_ther Key
Today at work I met a W I ZZ A R D I need to explain that to you So you can see it to My job Security at the gadget show live theater The place a linking tunnel from Hall 11 into the theater, Hall 12 before me all I can see is that tunnel made of cloth on which they projected lights giving a strobbing affect from Hall 11 towards me the theater behind all lights off was a black as night then infront of me was smoke in hall 11 over the radio i hear the silent fire alarms are going off this is one the public do not hear, so I take my place and ready for anything this is where my poem comes in. *** Today on my green bus Staring out the window I see double yellow lines in the road as i arrive the sun shines on me but little would i know today you will meet a   w i ZZ ard at work still hafl asleep i take my post light flash infront of me then lots of smoke alams go off around me then form behind the black curtains what do I see a man called brian a man from OZ not on this day but a   W I zz A R D THE  W I zz A R D of OZ *** PAUL :-)
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Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC
A WORK that four letter word.
i tonight he ard t he whole increasing churn of asleep moon light profess ******* a pair of giggling gorgeous effluent skinny skin and peaked mounting each lush pale drop of flesh a pinkest isle dithered and cooed a string of pleasant sharp rasps of whitish light (the moon like like honey drips the whole sky fantastic and carnal with the imploding bulge of her Winter set **** ).
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Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 7:19 AM UTC
i tonight heard
When times get Hard, the going gets writing. And the times are hard, but Things get worst before they get any better. As a bruise is when it's healing. Coming from a young person with no where to go, As I run from this creature. This big, dark creature who's Chasing me, there's no where to Hide, or so it thinks... Down the street...nope, it's right behind me. On the roof...nah, it's there too. No where to turn, No where to go, oh but wait... I got my secret place, but **** it! It's Even there as well--in my writing. In my place.
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Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 11:49 AM UTC
What a Catch, Donnie
We are scared to dream Scared to speak Scared to write and scared to teach Scared to breathe and scared to sleep Scared to **** and scared to scream Scared to run and scared to die Scared of living and scared to death of failing Scared of growing older and scared of being scolded Scared of holding and scared of showing Anything but our fearlessness
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Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
sacred cow(ard)s
. mustard ketchup relish mustard ketchup relish mustard ket chip relish mustard ketchup relish mustard ketch up relish must ard ketchup re list mustard ke tchup relish m ustard ketchup relish mustard ketchup relish Mustard ketch up relish must mustard relish mustard ketchup Relish mustard ket chup relish mustard ketchup relish must ard ketchup relish m mustard ketchup relish mustard Ketchup relish
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
Condoments
Look lady, do I look bovver'd it's botched? You wanted bespoke and that’s just what you got.   I alreddy told ya, I’m chock-a-block with jobs, so this the best of a very bad job. Now, fair enough, it might look bog standard, but you must remember, it was already cack-‘anded, so I'd thank you for shutting your gob with all your talk of you bein' robbed.   Look, your ladyship, you might well be miffed, but I’m sure you can make do with a little skew-wiffed, so ‘and over the readies and make it swift - I’ll walk away and we’ll call it quits.   You know me and my rep round this manor, if you don’t cough up I know a right tasty geezer who will breeze over ‘ere and wrap each of his fingers round a whole lot more than your French wind-ders. - That’s a lot better, you’ve got a nice gaff and I’m sure neither of us want all of the faff that goes with ‘ard feelings and still ‘arder stares through broken front wind-ders and costly repairs. You know what I mean?
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May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 2:58 PM UTC
Botched
(hidden in last years physics notebook) Today, you blared at me from the sun. No prior              #    warning,  took me a- back with that qui~ve~ring snarlll. I glAnced uP, and, without my sun- glasses, you maybe could piece   t-oge-the-r, factually, that I am in  love  with you, still ~ I tried to cover up the !rat! of my eyes but he -ard you gasp as you looked down and knew ~O~
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Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 10:36 PM UTC
last bad love poem i swear
sa yn ota wor dor )don 'ts a ya words m o u t h(h o W)about how in winter slep th ard ly a letter ofy ourbody.but (with a verb i you the aching and all the birds of a forest leapt from SLUMBEr and rose upon the crimp of darling youth a flower, , . , , .
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Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Untitled
The many natural wonders That Australia has to show Mysteriously appearing So many years ago Looking up onto the Snowy’s From the lakes of Jindabyne You appreciate the beauty That will stand the test of time From Katoomba falls to Orphan Rock The three sisters standing tall The beautiful Blue Mountains Where Mother Nature gave her all Down south of the border Along the coastline you will see The apostles and the Loch Ard Gorge Formed by limestone naturally The Grampian to the Dandenong’s Buchan Caves to Wilsons Prom It makes you wonder when and where This great beauty came from Travelling further West You will wonder what you’ve found The Blue Lake of Mt Gambier The colourful Wilpena Pound Over the Nullarbor you’ll go Cross the Great Australian Bight Flinders Ranges far behind you Slowly fading out of sight On through the Sterling Ranges Where the wildflowers abound Jagged peaks of Granite Shooting upward from the ground Then to the Red Centre The most wondrous place of all Its colours ever changing With every day’s nightfall The Olgas up to Arnhem Land Devils Marbles, Uluru Katherine Gorge to Mataranka Standley Chasm, Kakadu Over to the Sunshine State The holiday makers dream The Barrier Reef, The Daintree The National Parks of Tambourine The South Pacific Islands Blue Waters and white Sands To the tropical rainforests Which are further north, inland Then down to the Apple Isle With its historic convict past Cradle Mountain, Derwent Valley Russell Falls and Tasman’s Arch The many natural wonders So majestic and so grand Make it easy to appreciate This great Australian Land Elise L Turnedge 1997
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Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 7:15 AM UTC
Australia
The many natural wonders That Australia has to show Mysteriously appearing So many years ago Looking up onto the Snowy’s From the lakes of Jindabyne You appreciate the beauty That will stand the test of time From Katoomba falls to Orphan Rock The three sisters standing tall The beautiful Blue Mountains Where Mother Nature gave her all Down south of the border Along the coastline you will see The apostles and the Loch Ard Gorge Formed by limestone naturally The Grampian to the Dandenong’s Buchan Caves to Wilsons Prom It makes you wonder when and where This great beauty came from Travelling further West You will wonder what you’ve found The Blue Lake of Mt Gambier The colourful Wilpena Pound Over the Nullarbor you’ll go Cross the Great Australian Bight Flinders Ranges far behind you Slowly fading out of sight On through the Sterling Ranges Where the wildflowers abound Jagged peaks of Granite Shooting upward from the ground Then to the Red Centre The most wondrous place of all Its colours ever changing With every day’s nightfall The Olgas up to Arnhem Land Devils Marbles, Uluru Katherine Gorge to Mataranka Standley Chasm, Kakadu Over to the Sunshine State The holiday makers dream The Barrier Reef, The Daintree The National Parks of Tambourine The South Pacific Islands Blue Waters and white Sands To the tropical rainforests Which are further north, inland Then down to the Apple Isle With its historic convict past Cradle Mountain, Derwent Valley Russell Falls and Tasman’s Arch The many natural wonders So majestic and so grand Make it easy to appreciate This great Australian Land Elise L Turnedge 1997
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58
Think Hard Everyday, every minute, every second **Contemplate with your every breath Solve until your final death Life is a mystery That you need to deduct It is a series of patterns You'll only see Right before your eyes are shut**
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Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
THE
Read along the lines... But it doesn't imply my falsehood, Under the wicked sky I live, Truly unruly my life is right now. I am very much incompatible. And not just with herself, Maybe with everybody else. Hard are the days alone, Ageing I'm but gracefully, Perhaps I'm best left single, Pouting is an opportunity, Yes it is inviting me too. Bask in the calm sunlight, Ending is another phase, Indeed this is satisfying, Nightmares are fading, Giving me happiness. Sorry I'm not about her, I am no-one to crib, Not about her studies, Gleeful I must remain, Long life brings smiles, Era of my life is common.
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Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
She Was Right