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"bingle" poems
bingle bangle trip top flipper wing **** fingling zinger bop bop tribble slapper bang herpe derper webble wob frankish glub glub beetroot shingle rampart flip rob wipple fishnet bangtoot markly haper mushmouth yungdid crassly freeten biddle froto down south sharple rag tag neepin oddler dang trumpet ***** gnomey smashhash villet bridle crumpet creamy lopless bashrash oh, the wonderful sounds of letters amazing in your diversity always makes me feel a bit better but not as far as perversity
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
noisepop
roll up! roll up!! you fine hearted boy. time now to put down, the store made toys. time to make magic... with the inside, of your mind roll up! roll up!! to the dream circus let's see what we find.... melamine monkeys mimic monstrousity's mangling, minor majorities in musical mayhem symphonies, sublime playing mozart in part on a shiny yellow kazooo meanwhile marshmallow crocodiles smile with mincing beguile at ****** moo cows meandering miles in crooked zig-zag lines making milkshakes all the while... mouses and mices are avoiding becoming itty bitty pieces of rodent and crabapple pie by milling mindlessly around the mound of milliners, by the by. now to meet and greet at the zoo mrs hippopotomus has ginger biscuits and mango milk ready for you while you watch the fleet of zebras and their plataypi crew, sail in the xebec regatta twice around the isle of goo. before saying huzzah and hooroo they won the championship whoohoo!!!! it's all a happenin, at the bing **** bingle zoo but for all these amazing thing to occur my lad you have to pay your dues so close your eyes, and sleep ..... and you will see a wonderful dream or two....
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Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
dream circus
Sitting in the quiet pulchritude, In limerence, I am drenched, Luculent from head to foot. Watching people gallivanting - Some agathist, impavid with life, In eucatastrophe, they are. The lollylags and misantrophic, Dillydallying with humdudgeon. The rugrats in constant bumfuzzle; Stroking their rumpots are the drunk, A man and a woman, and a bingle, Then a belgard was exchanged. No noise, just music in my ears; No argle-bargle of the blatherskite; No conniption from old hag. No need to absquatulate, Just enjoy the quiet festivities. Tiny hairs on my arms stood on end, As I felt the wind surround me. What a beauty this place is, The hoddy-noddies took for granted. Melancholy, serenity, strangely nostalgic. Pictures of the past and the future, Disembogue, delivered from my head. All this images ensorcell me, over and over, With a final intake of breath and a shudder, I took in the picture, forever encapsulated in my mind.
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Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
The beautiful people of the busy High Street