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"boggart" poems
On a fine and sunny morn On the third or fourth of may A boggart and a bumblebee Went to town to play They met up with a mugglewump But little did he say So the boggart and the bumblebee Bowed and went away They found their friends the Fuglywhits And asked them out to tea They bribed them with jam crumpets But the Fuglywhits weren’t free Much dejected did they carry on The boggart and the bee The fine and sunny morning Was filled with little glee And then the boggart came upon A wondrous revelation That put their moping frowns Into quick cessation They need no other colleagues To have collaborations Two could play together In satisfied elation And so the fine associates Proceeded to be gay On that fine and sunny morn On the third or fourth of may
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Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
Boggart and a Bumble Bee
the mange of our fuzzy logic is squandered on the imbecile. and genius is the gene splice of twelve comedies. a rogue moon in a hooligan. it jumps the fence and can't jump back. lacking the tool that undoes the beauty of the obvious. that quaintly dismisses the Oh ! My ! God ! we cringe in the ether of our ignorance, spooning the villain.   the Mind is the Common Sense Killer.... it dives and triumphs in the acetone conundrum of our proximity to dissipation. the bold features of our doldrums are the perfect ugly perfection of our flaws. our love is the rigid agenda of a massacre. we the people, are the juvenile, sprained wrist of a boggart ! a Fae dreary. we have our business in the withers of dead horses. we are well versed in the tundra tongue of our flat humor. we assume the rumors are true. and the tyranny that freed you is the misery you love with and your beautiful doom kissing a mirror... a Thing.
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Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
The Mind Is The Common Sense Killer
my house is scratched, my house is scrawny it squeaks but it don’t shine my name is Fudge the Brownie and this fudgin’ house is mine it wasn’t perfect when they built it they had to patch and bodge and they summoned this here spirit out of every little “fudge!” stubbed ya big toe on the landing? ****** on carpets that don’t match? splinters on the wood needs sanding and the gutter pipes don’t catch? take it easy! don’t make boggarts outta molehills made of dust, leave me coins and nuts and yogurts and i’ll fix it when i’m assed our house it leans, our house it sighs it ain’t got no level lines but you got a Fudge here on your side and this fudgin’ house is mine i will fix what thing wants fixing but don’t fix what ain’t yet broke not my fault the sink is sinking not my fault the speakers spoke ya don’t see the dishes drying i don’t put em on display like the oil where you were frying that i cleanly put away **** you all you ******* ***** i am like twelve inches tall so don’t make me catch your glasses cos you put em where they fall just because you ******* bought it does not mean this house is yours you turned Fudge into a Boggart i’m not doing your fudgin’ chore you hurt my house? that's outta pocket so i'm done being benign you turned Fudge into a Boggart and this fudgin' house is mine
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Nov 1, 2022
Nov 1, 2022 at 11:31 AM UTC
fudge the brownie