"bingo" poems
Itinaga ko sa bato,
Sinigaw ko sa harapan ng malalakas na alon
Ang pangako hindi na ako iibig muli.
Isa, dalawa, tatlo.
Tatlo beses ako niloko.
Tatlo beses ako iniwan.
Para isang laro,
Naka-bingo na ako.
Dumaan ang mga araw,
Lumipas ang buwan,
Nagsimula ang bagong taon,
Ngunit ang pangako sa nakaraan
Aking dinala.
Isa, dalawa, tatlo.
Hindi na ako muling iibig pa.
Pinagdamutan ko ang sarili ko
Magmahal ng iba.
Kaya ko magisa.
Mga katagang lagi kong binubulong sa sarili ko.
Papatak man ang mga luha ko,
Pero hindi na muli madudurog ang puso ko.
Isa, dalawa, tatlo.
Nahipan ng hangin ang pangako ko.
Isang araw nagising na lang ako,
Inaantay ko ang mga mensahe mo.
Ikaw ang una naiisip sa umaga,
Kausap sa magdamag,
Panaginip sa gabi.
Sa mga araw na mapait,
Ikaw ang nagpapangiti.
Sa mga araw na magulo ang mundo ko,
Ikaw ang nagliligtas nito.
Isa, dalawa, tatlo.
Ayaw ko mahulog sa iyo.
Takot akong madurog ang puso kong
Pinilit kong binuo.
Ngunit paano,
Kung ikaw lang ang nais sa piling ko.
Kaya ngayon itong nararamdaman ko'y itatago muna sa iyo.
Isa, dalawa, tatlo.
Tatlo hakbang palayo sa iyo.
Dalawa tayo sa istorya na ito.
Isa lang ako na may paghanga sayo.
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 10:26 AM UTC
Her platinum blonde hair was a firm
spunky Irish when she was a kid
And compelled me to wish for time travel
as I have loved her since she's existed
She says she'll table dance if she wins
All for a package of crackers I'd have
never kicked her out of bed for eating
Says if I'm lucky she'll pick Mardi Gras beads
I told her that from her wedding picture
Veronica Lake had nothing on her
She said straight into my transparent heart:
"I've had a good life"
. . .and I was lucky
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
You're the wind the blows the treetops
It rustles through my hair
The hand that touches my shoulder
Quietly, you are there.
You're the story left unfinished
A poem left untouched
For 20 years you fought alone
20 years escaped Death's clutch.
For 14 years you held me
Through plays and concerts all
You filled up puzzles and read the books
Alone, you stood so tall.
You told me all the stories
Answered that question many times
Why I never did see Grampa,
Why I never saw you cry.
You showed me all the pictures
Played Santa on Christmas morn'
We made fruit salad on holidays
You've loved me since I was born.
Not once did I say goodbye to you
See you later, kiss goodnight
I'd see you in the morning
Bananas and donuts under the counter light.
You were a genius in your own way
But never flaunted it so
You taught me games I'd not thought of
You loved me more than you could show.
We offered you a guard dog
A cat to spend your days
You never were an animal person
Dependence is not your ways.
You got home from bingo one night
Laid down to rest your head
Your sister woke to call you
Somehow, you weren't out of bed.
From then on you hid your voice from us
Never to be heard again
Tests and cards and flowers, too
Not one, not two- more than ten!
Leading up to then, you'd had enough
Enough for a lifetime, I suppose,
Because one night you took your final breath
Your cheeks lost the color of rose.
I've never been the hugging type,
And I handle sadness on my own
Crying in front of others
Is something I've never been shown.
The next week had been quite tough
But your sister was always there
Your sister, my Nana, the only one
She told us she would always care.
We said goodbye, a final one,
I tried my hardest not to cry
I'd only said goodnight my life
Not once have I said goodbye.
Sometimes I wish we got you the dog
Maybe we'd share another morn'
I love you for the rest of my life,
The one I miss and adore.
It was the night you'd not return
None of us know why
But now we know you're happy
Playing bingo with Grampa in the sky.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
a love poem, of new & old,
why I am the summer-man!^
summer is winding down,
sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags,
marked and named by hue, the where and the when,
so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help,
when the good things those good blues aroused,
poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all,
quite the opposite, these cold blues
may help, to recall why it was worth breathing
summer is winding down,
so am I, the synchrony no accident, time,
the Pharmacy kitchen calendar
claiming another victim, willing or not,
those cars and the blue eyed models,
are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken,
not finger scribed, for the keyboard a
jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical
of confusion hellish and
my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending
their little children, beloved concubines of my heart
the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo,
tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much;
the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight,
tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like
replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet
which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby,
tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy
try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she
occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair,
making rhymes with her next-next generational descendants,
faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain;
zingo, bingo, lingo
tango, ginkgo, jingo,
** ** oh no, oh no!
ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly,
when he is not a grumpy,
old man all fall down!
which she acts out with giggles galore,
adding a teacup embellishment,
a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping,
the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny,
but time to me *** and take a needed morning *****
no poppy! no poppy! no poppy!
no nap, no *** no *****
thinking the call out is for her,
stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes
I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out,
foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her,
get wheeled away crinkled and crackling,
*zingo, bingo, lingo
tango, ginkgo, jingo
** ** oh no, oh no!
ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly,
when he is not a grumpy,
old man all fall down!*
a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC
We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
We have created a fermentative reality,
Where words are symbols of relation
That you and I falsify
And Bingo was his name-o!
Ah!
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
What do you mean?
And how shall we bargain?
And mora is but a half step to a whole
Eek gad!
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August, Sept Oct Nov Dec
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
12345
12345678
12345
12345678
12344
12344556
12344
12344556
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
Together we fall!
United I stand.
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
Repitition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
True or False?
Hide and Seek
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over.
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
*(asterisk)
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 7:08 AM UTC
Turn da bottles upside down
The bingo linggo is right up here
No need to estimate
Ain't show 'em what you got
Coz the feminine swag is right in front of you
Hit da spot,break 'em low
Erbody's on the floor,hot & cold
The center of attraction is here we go
Sweat like it's the end of the court
Make some noise,the battle is not yet done
Here is the piece of my paper
Sonnet to Haiku,get 'em yours
While i make my lyrics out of it
I bet you to sing this song
Coz It's you that I crack the most
Fly high coz im so high
This super legacy of mine
Is not yet over,bring me to the court
And I'll make you cry while you can run
Too fast to drift out of your collateral words
***** bootsy,shakin' ya *****
The tingga ling, bling bling mingle naw to da floor
Ain't gonna lose coz this **** got me pumpin'
Now I can drop ya to the floor
Coz it's fresh like a g6
Now I can flip ma hair to ya gorges face
So wassup now! And you can tumblin' down to my feet
Look what i've got, Its a brand new style
Now spin it while you can
And Open ya eyes coz dis ain't a dream
Mine is a simple yet i can make you blown out of it
From A to Z,the lines are getting ahead
Loads of fans while I can make ma audience jump to their seats
Scream to the screen,while I can star struck you to my voice
Back Off now,while It's not too late
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 1:25 AM UTC
I was called a troll today,
I really don't know if I deserved it.
I comment and like but now I feel like ****
She said I'm sure you never thought I would leave your comment up.
I'm doing so , so that every body can see you this far
the *** WIPE YOU REALLY ARE.
So sorry they didn't nominate your *** for the Grand WIZARD
BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME ***** go crawl like a lizard.
Sorry for this old troll who pay me a visit,
I know some of yall saw him...Lord Have Mercy...
Go to the activity room in the nursing home somewhere in Jersey.
Play BINGO OR SOMETHING don't know what gramps problem was
I think they did it to make you think it is someone
you don't know. Stupid *** people need a real woman
I just do not reply back.
Trolls can make themselves any age any ***
I am blessed not to be sick and homeless.
if they really want views all they have to do is ask
will I help out and share their vid...I will do just that!
depends on what they're talking about....Just dont try to combat.
My guess is Trolls are people looking for views and are bighearted
next time you should think before you sound ********
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 3:32 AM UTC
Her shoulder rose like the moon
above the black velvet of bolero jacket
She took his arm, his eyes--
An apogee
She took the room
in reverence
So slowly
shed the mountains
shed the light
hand to touch their wonder
Gazing after
her noiseless ascent
which never happened
while they watched....
Pearls—
roll against warmth
luxuriating offspring
cool encircling
contents iridesce
their energies’ warning:
Nothing quite that simple
Nothing quite that still
Nothing like the opulence
on the Proud Eve of catastrophe
Pearls—
caught in the lining
of what never happens the first time....
She heard them before she saw them
rip their orbits!
fission her universe!
in the mezzanine of the symphony hall
Pin ball in the Fun House
Bingo bounce
off—
the hardwoods of space....
Universal Theory of Scatter?
Even now I can still hear the clatter
of their round smooth souls
in the doorways of distant relatives
How could I know?
You would condemn me
to find them all?
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
We have created a figmentative reality,
where words are symbols of relation
that you and I falsify
And Bingo was his name-o!
Ah!
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
What do you mean?
and how shall we bargain?
And mora is but a half step to a whole
Eek gad!
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August 28th
Sept Oct Nov Dec
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
12345
12345678
12345
12345678
12344
12344556
12344
12344556
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
Together we fall!
United I stand.
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
Repetition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
True or False?
Hide and Seek
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
Asterisk*
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 12:26 AM UTC
The daughter of the village Maire
Is very fresh and very fair,
A dazzling eyeful;
She throws upon me such a spell
That though my love I dare not tell,
My heart is sighful.
She has the cutest brown caniche,
The French for "poodle" on a leash,
While I have Bingo;
A dog of doubtful pedigree,
Part pug or pom or chow maybe,
But full of stingo.
The daughter of the village Maire
Would like to speak with me, I'll swear,
In her sweet lingo;
But parlez-vous I find a bore,
For I am British to the core,
And so is Bingo
Yet just to-day as we passed by,
Our two dogs haulted eye to eye,
In friendly poses;
Oh, how I hope to-morrow they
Will wag their tails in merry play,
And rub their noses.
* * * * * * *
The daughter of the village Maire
Today gave me a frigid stare,
My hopes are blighted.
I'll tell you how it came to pass . . .
Last evening in the Square, alas!
My sweet I sighted;
And as she sauntered with her pet,
Her dainty, her adored Frolette,
I cried: "By Jingo!"
Well, call it chance or call it fate,
I made a dash . . . Too late, too late!
Oh, naughty Bingo!
The daughter of the village Maire
That you'll forgive me, is my prayer
And also Bingo.
You should have shielded your caniche:
You saw my dog strain on his leash
And like a spring go.
They say that Love will find a way -
It definitely did, that day . . .
Oh, canine noodles!
Now it is only left to me
To wonder - will your offspring be
Poms, pugs or poodles?
4k
The dreamy sea washed ashore bringing
little bubbles of life to its end
Children splashed and jumped as wave after wave fell in
Bucket and ***** at the ready as castles from the sky
formed from minds in youth and fairy tales
Cream at the ready as grandads cap retreats
crisped from the comfort of his strippy deckchair he waits
Mothers blankets blown from the wind held down by
a shoe to be lost and a stone found yet not cast
These were the days we remember
These are the days we forget
These are the days to be treasured
A fine sad old memory from a past we most had
Ice cream sounds calling at fathers request
Is grandma still yawning from bingo's night fest
a donut for mother all sugared and warm
don't forget Charlie as woof is all heard
A match game of cricket from children about
or footy at lunchtime sweet sand in your mouth
These were the days we remember
These are the days we forget
These are the days to be treasured
A fine sad old memory from a past we most had
Asleep from the sun and a sneaky quick pint
as dad tries to doze be free to unwind
A call for 3 strikes as rounders is found
hear grandad all snoring more cream to be crowned
Tis time for a dip to twinkle your toes
to jump back a mile oh blimey its cold
These are the memories all children should have
a time when no phones when a time wasn't planned
No little computers to spoil the day
just fun and great memories of children at play
A time when your family all joined in the fun
a shame we have lost this to greed and the sun
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 1:33 AM UTC
"You're so beautiful,"
says
Mr. You-Deserve-Better.
His friend,
Joe I-Can-Be-Different,
nods in agreement.
I'm just Miss Single-20-Something
searching for companionship
finding nothing
but the company
of every one-track-minder
in the Greater Portland Area.
I've been promised the moon,
stars,
a few planets here
or there.
Receiving just grunted approvals
from two-pump chumps
with over-active sweat glands.
So excuse the skepticism
clouding my judgement
as I roll all man kind
into one conclusion:
You all bark like dogs.
If he acts like one,
and smells like one,
I'd say Bingo
is his
name-o.
Just save it.
This Jenny has been around the block.
Your flowers will die.
Your chocolates will go to my hips.
For now,
your name is Mud,
and you can call me Miss Independent.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 9:31 PM UTC
ewe wanna learn how to talk tidy
like all us welsh valley folk do
we don't know a coat from a jacket
we don't know a boot from a shoe
we live up the road down by there
shoulder length cropped curly hair
got permanent jobs on the fiddle
two houses,and mines in the middle
my mothers a tea total binger
blonde headed brunette called ginger
she always go out for a night in
to bingo she finds exciting
did you see that wind?
hear that snow?watch that song?
who's coat is that jacket?
and there it was....gone
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 12:31 PM UTC
My Lighthouse Poem
4/4/2014
You make my toes tingle,
I never noticed them before.
You're like my hit single,
in my mind every time I walk out the door,
to start my day.
You brighten my soul
and one touch makes me feel a million different ways.
One more positive than the other,
but each heading in the same right direction,
to you.
I can't wait to trace every single millimeter of your body,
like I am on a treasure hunt.
And all I can find at each spot I come into contact with is golden beauty.
Your words are pure and unadulterated,
like the low sodium soy sauce and fresh ginger with sushi.
Ooo, there's just something in your smile,
and no it's not spinach.
It's a reflection of a happier me,
knowing that I could be with you and be happy.
I'll call you my lighthouse,
and nobody will understand.
They'll think I was a lost ship,
and that you helped me reach the sand.
Really it's because you are a stable structure,
out at an emotional sea in a dark sky night.
Really it is because none of the others compare,
to your special kind of shine bright,
with that light,
that I'm fixated on.
On our first date we played bingo and shuffleboard.
On our second date, sushi and tarot cards.
Who knows what crazy adventures any future dates will be,
but who really cares when they include you and me?
Yeah, that's right, it's enough with just you and me,
my lighthouse.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
Work, eat, work, sleep.
Work, sigh - new week.
Bank holiday, work then tidy.
Sleep, eat, work now Friday.
Thank Crunchie, eat then tidy.
Iron, sleep, new week, Monday.
Met deadline, pat on back.
Tighter deadline, fancy that.
Have a breakfast, just be late,
work, sleep, work, a date!
Inspiration, "changed my life".
Work, think, change my life.
Starting Monday, new routine.
Work, play! Eat, sleep.
Missed deadline, angry voices.
Work, more work? Awful choices.
Work some more, please the boss.
Work, more work, another week lost.
New tie Tuesday, no one noticed.
Stop and think why I wrote this.
Just like thinking? Maybe not.
Dislike the answer? Bingo! Stop.
Thought too much, behind on deadline.
Work some more, eat then bedtime.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
it had to be ants.
the town turned out,
a pound a time,
to see the model railway
of dolgellau.
amazing as it was,
as you know i do like tiny things,
expecially trains.
more astonishing was the conversation,
face close, on ants that bit up his legs
at bingo, formic acid and calamine
explained in detail.
thre train went by, with tiny noise,
as he rolled up his trouser leg to show me.
the explaination as detailed
as the dioramal, on and on and on.
a nice man. my daughter saved me.
twice.
it was a good turnout, an excellent,
award winning model railway.
sbm.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 4:00 AM UTC
What a strange title
When I went to Aden (South Yemen) in 1964
It was to fight infiltrators from North Yemen
How to spot where mines had been laid
Where ambushes could take place
Trained in how to **** at long and very close range
But nobody mentioned the bugs
Camel spiders almost four inches across
Now they gave us great fun because we would catch them
Then bet big money on the outcome of a fight with
Another spider or a big scorpion
Most times the spider would win but would then die
But by then the bets had been paid
Stephen E Yokum and Jonny Angel
And thousands of American and British ex military
Know about bugs
Centipedes 9/12 inches long and stinking like you'd never believe
Get one of those crawling on your skin and pull it off the wrong way and bingo
You end up with a permanent tattoo
Because their feet dig in
We did have the good ones though
Chameleons, we would keep them in our tents
And feed them crickets and in return they would keep the flies down
We learned to live with BUGS
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
I need the beach
sand in the places
where
it's hard to reach
the sea
clotted cream and
strawberry jam for tea
You
at my side when
the tide comes in
bingo and
sin, oh!
the devil
says no
so
sand eels
fishing reels
catch of the day.
B and B
you and me
double room
ideally.
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 4:11 PM UTC
Tee hee, look at me!
Tight little ***** hey can you see?
Not a tan line on me!
I bask nakedly! Tee hee, tee hee!
Pay attention to me!
Tee hee hee, bikini hangin' free
Grab that thing of sunscreen oil
And rub it on freely!
Now I shine reflectively! Tee hee!
Tee hee is not just words to me
It's more a way of life, you see
Each **** that bounces bouncily
Says to the world, tee bouncy hee hee hee
So please upvote my poem, it's free
And score a point for li'l ol' me
Being so single hurts sorely!
Help a girl out, tee hee hee!
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
Bashful, but sweet.
Intelligence, with wit.
Nice and kind.
Gorgeous, with modesty.
Outrageous, even when quiet.
Bingo!
You're my jackpot prize.
You alone is my fortune.
This you even told me.
And this I believe.
That you are the better part of me.
Bingo!
Lady, I love you so.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
When saliva is saturated we all need a wakeup call
No matter how foreign we feel
But at daybreak your love is like a milkshake
It claws out my eyes and reluctantly takes Eleanor home for dinner
She sits there
She snorts
She smiles
She tore my heart into so many pieces that I'm still looking for the ones that rolled under the refrigerator
Bingo and broadsides do little for my brain
Ages of nothingness and drifting decades starve me
Lies and mistakes and dreams refuse to move on
They bounce off of Rosie's chin, mangle with age, and bitterly salute us as they die
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 10:48 PM UTC
*"Dogs are man's best friends"
So he ignored the "woof! woof!!"
... now, gunshots sound... "WOOF!!!"*
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC
Marching, hopping, running, waddling
down the street, people with working feet
oblivious to the stares of the woman
in a chair.
Why would they see her?
She's not even their height!
They are just people plodding and
plotting, lives rotting slowly away.
But, back to the woman in the chair
Snooping on the crowd
Watching the mothers tug at toddlers reins.
Rowing teens shouting "bruv" a lot!
She's mocking the crowd in her own way
She has become them, just invisible.
She likes it like that, knowing of you
Yet them not knowing of her.
Her awareness is acute, sees the businessman
in his suit. The homeless man in his home
called box, the elderly matrons
moaning about bingo.
The drunk with his bottle clutched as tight
as the baby clutches her bear.
The smokers all congregated at the altar of tar
The shopkeeper eyeing the kids, missing the thief
The security guard, guarding the pretty
Little things, no, not the jewellery the
teenage girls! Oh, his eyes are popping!
His legs are twitching. His fingers itching to touch!
Along with the sights are the sounds,
shouting, laughing, heckling and coughing
Smell,also plays a part in people watching
fast food, sweat, the great unwashed.
All plodding along, flocking like birds
clogging the street, swapping gossip,
unaware as always of the
young woman in a wheelchair.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
Who the Hell wants to
Go off to Heaven?
Think about it please:
If you had to spend
All eternity
With “goody two shoes”,
And “zipped up virgins”,
And “pious *******
Always putting on
Thick sweaters of wool
Cause there ain’t no heat,
Playing “Yahtzee” and
“Old Maid” and “Go Fish”
And “Bingo” and “Red
Rover Red Rover”
Send the next bore on
Over! You’d pray and,
Oh my dear, you‘d wish
To come down to Hell
Where the party’s at!
By the time Heaven
Starts serving soda
Water and broccoli
Oh my dear you’ll crave:
***** Linguini
A full Trough of Sloth
A Southern Wrath Wrap
Greed’s mead, Peppered Pride
Glutton’s Mutton and
Sweet Envy’s Smoothie.
Can you live with just
Holding their cold hand?
Sitting on some cloud,
Gazing and never
Feeling or touching?
Never burning, nor
Experimenting?
This is blunt, but think,
This is where all the
Interesting folks
Go! Laughter? Its here!
Debauchery? Here!
Creativity!
Ingenuity!
We are what made life,
LIFE! Think about it!
Has obedience,
Has docility,
Has simplicity,
Has submission changed
This world? This universe?
A wise man, once said
“If heaven is where,
“Nice” folks like you go,
Then its surely hell
That I’d rather know”
Here is the freedom!
Here are the cool kids!
Why starve in the light,
When in the dark there’s
Every delight and
Every single thing
Enjoyed throughout life?
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 1:53 PM UTC