"britain" poems
Like the heavens and the skies
Like the deep seas so wide
When I am confident and true
When I have faith in you
Colour me blue, colour me blue
Like the royals of Great Britain
Like the noble in truth and ambition
In my wisdom, dignity and pride
In my mystery and grandeur so wise
Colour me purple, colour me purple
Like fire and blood
Like the intensity of a flood
In my strength and passion
In my desire, love and emotion
Colour me red, colour me red
Like the warmth of the tropics
Like the sun, my daily tonic
When I am determined and creative
When I am happy and attractive
Colour me orange, colour me orange
Like a smile so warm
Like joy even in a storm
When I am cheerful and happy
In my intellect, when I am savvy
Colour me yellow, colour me yellow
When I am all these and more
When I am despised or adored
With the colours of the rainbow
With the colours that make me glow
Colour me colours, colour me colours
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 4:21 AM UTC
We perpetuate heartbreak culture,
teaching girls the man who holds her loves her despite the bruises,
or it was her fault; she looked older.
We fetishes shoulders,
prize youth from the young in return for pre-chewed gum,
swallowing down the same tired ideals from those who still wield them like flags,
waving their patriotism on poles of bone before a throne of medieval ********
They chant mantras with beer stained breath about how 'our' country 'bested' the rest,
but what about the brutality?
The blood split on foreign soil in return for prehistoric oil?
Our land is deemed pure so long as the violence on our hands never reaches our shores,
but the ocean is red and staining our sands.
How can you have pride in a country who's sole identity is based off having the worlds largest navy?
Congratulations. You bombed your way through countless continents, collecting cultures to gather dust on pedestals and alters
We sin on Sundays, drink till we're ****** then wave at the seven deadly's (they don't apply to us here).
We teach preschoolers nationalism before they can walk,
indoctrinate our children before they can talk.
George killed the dragon.
Hood gave to the poor.
we all jumped on the bandwagon before we realised the princess had no choice and the rich still ruled.
There was no voice in the tale for those whose wail could be ignored.
What about those without lines in the script?
Those kicked to the curb, then kicked from it?
Our pavements have no room for nonconformists,
they're tailored to for same mind, same mindless wanderer,
squandering on the lasted polyesters even though that mouth on the street hasn't eaten in over a week.
'God save the Queen' from the vermin;
the homeless have been tossed out of the trash.
Why help them when you could save your cash by turning a blind?
After all, out of sight, out of mind.
Welcome to England, we hope you like what you find
Because we’re not changing it.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
All these kids,
They cry,
Scream,
And *****
"I WANT FREEDOM FROM MY PARENTS!"
That simple freedom does not concern me.
I want freedom, but not just from my parents so I can stay out late.
I want freedom,
From my peers,
From my family,
From the government,
And from myself.
I want to be free to walk down the halls,
Hand in hand with a girl,
Who I'm in love with.
I want to be able to do that,
With no fear in my heart.
No worries or names called,
Or punches thrown.
I want that freedom.
I want the freedom to be able to bring a girl home,
And show her to my parents,
And tell her how much I love her,
In front of them.
I want to be able to talk to my mom,
About relationship problems,
About the GIRL who broke my heart,
But I cant.
I want the freedom to marry.
To marry any person I choose,
No matter the gender.
Male,
Or female,
It should not matter.
My happiness,
And the way I spend my life,
Is not something that should be voted on,
By those with half a brain.
I want freedom from myself,
To accept me,
And be who I am,
Without any shame.
But I can't do that,
Unless I have the freedom from others,
To be me,
And be happy with that.
I want the freedom to be gay.
Some may complain,
That the gays are already free,
Too much maybe.
But that is not the case.
We're not persecuted,
But we're not free.
All throughout history there has been movements for freedom.
There was one of religious freedom,
When puritans came to the New World from Britain.
A war was started,
And freedom came out with a victory.
There was one of freedom for slaves,
So that they could live the lives they wanted,
And not have to be owned,
And treated like property,
By another human being.
Once again,
A war was started,
And the slaves were freed.
There was one of freedom for women,
So that women could be the same as men,
Equals.
There were marches,
And protests,
And women rights came out on top.
There was one of freedom for those of color,
So that they can mix,
And mingle,
With the race that whites thought was superior.
There were marches,
And sit ins,
Protests,
And brawls,
But guess who won in the end?
We are working towards freedom of LGBTQ,
lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning/queer,
And one way or another,
We will eventually get our freedom.
Look at all these past freedom movements,
There were always two sides to it.
Which side are you on?
Is it the right one?
This is not the land of the free and the home of the brave.
This is the land of the *** ******* cowards,
And the home of the "You can be free, if we allow it."
I think its about time we either lived up to our motto,
Or changed it.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
Men and women are equal
None are above the other
In rights and respect
Equal
Men have strength yes
Yet it's women who endure
Men and women
Both are intelligent
As their brains made of the same matter
Biologically here equality stands firm
Differences of course are there
Yet minuscule
Appearances cast aside
Only few can be observed
Women and men
Both are sensitive and feel
Yet where women show it; display
Men conceal; pretend not to feel
Society kills
In tactics and ideas
Is where our message ends
For too often it's said to
Disregard the thoughts of women
Too dumb and feeble minded to be
Of Value and interest
Yet where there's Winston Churchill
The mastermind of Britain
There's also Elizabeth the 1st
The queen who beat the Spanish Armada
Hence with logics like this
Any notion of ****** inferiority**
Can be easily dismissed
As utterly ridiculous.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
Two fine films: The Lost City and Blood Diamond.
I joined Blood Diamond during a village massacre
and said to my wife A gun in every home.
Those devils would think twice
before razing the village and seizing the boys.
A well-regulated militia.
The local militia the most interesting moment
in a strong film with motive (economic, emotional), action (chases,
fights) and a **** sexless love story.
Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose: protect the
community, the young
from the janjaweed. The crop from the ****
Limited scope and defensive posture
but armed and coordinated, cooperative, the men (and the women)
side by side.
Warriors at the gate, you will not run, you will not bargain.
Just violence = limited scope, defensive posture.
Great music. Cuba, Africa.
The Lost City, when the communists tell the club owner under threat
of violence
No saxophones in the band. The saxophone!
Invented by a Belgian--Look what the Belgians are doing in the
Congo!
When the state's violence is turned against the citizenry
for non-violent acts.
This quiet neighborhood, July,
undergirded by violence, force. That's a given--
any farmer, custodian, EMT will tell you that.
Without just violence
Gandhi's scope, and King's, might be vanishingly limited,
negligible (but not non-existent)?
Regarding King
the matter is simple -- he was non-violent but dependent upon
federal force to counter the South's violence.
No doubt without the larger force, the non-violent would be
overwhelmed by southern violence.
Here, non-violence was a tactic, not an ethic.
Gandhi, however, had no violent partner to protect him from the
British. Or did he?
1. There was the potential violence of the population, which Gandhi
restrained but could release which the British feared, and
2. It was the restrained (limited scope) violence of the British that
allowed Gandhi to exist rather than be extinguished--this restraint
was a (British) cultural imperative (limited scope) as well as
emanating from Britain's view of India as a protectorate and
valued citizen of the United Kingdom (defensive posture).
What about violence or threat of violence to compel compliance with
community
as in mortgage foreclosure, driving without license, drug possession.
Perhaps it is necessary violence to maintain orderly commerce, the
common space, and preempt bad behaviors associated with
otherwise neutral, private acts.
The defensive posture is the common good; the limited scope is
forgoing deadly force.
But the citizen, too, must maintain a disciplined, armed non-violence,
in case the state (the janjaweed) engages in an unjust, autoimmune
violence.
Hence, a gun in every home.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
Twenty third June twenty sixteen
The biggest vote we’d ever seen
Results are in and Brexit win
and many say it’s such a sin
Those who voted not to leave
This news they just could not believe
Sore losers showed their bitter anguish
soon from Europe we would vanish
Let’s vote again remainers say
'No vote again' says Theresa May
Our country voted in or out
and voted out without a doubt
The apple cart tipped on its head
Britain in Europe would soon be dead
Now Brexit was born the following morn.
This beautiful kingdom from Europe be torn
Remainers are mad while leavers are glad
Great Britain is out there is no doubt
So shut up remainers, accept what is done
We voted together and Brexit won
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
Britain has few trees . . .
Fools bespoke: Lord cut them down,
. . . Ecological disaster.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
Great Old Britain, What A Joke,
Made Our Wealth Off Of Black People's Backs,
Whips & Lashes, Tongue Tastes Of Ashes.
Ever After War,
We Use Them For More,
While Giving Them Less,
But Ulcers & Stress.
"We Will Deport Their Children." Now That Is An Insult!
Home Office From May To Rudd,
Hostile Environment Now That Is Pure Mud.
They Are Us & We Are Them, They're Are British You're Just Phlegm.
Politicians Just Make Me Spew,
You May Not Care!
But What If That's You?
What If That Mum,
What If That's Gran, I'd Set The Country Alight & Watch As They Ran!
I'd Turn The Streets Into Rage,
We'll Write A New Page,
Begin A New Age,
We'll Set A New Stage.
Wealthy White Corpses,
Buried In Orchards,
Peace Out Of Turmoil,
Released From This Coil.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:48 AM UTC
This is a cold perfect night
The sun switch off the light
Hear my guitar owns the night
I stood on the beam of the light
To give the role for the moon
He reflects It through the dune
There your heart such a stone
See a rock keeps a stone to retain
Then the rock was my silly brain
Such a sculpture looks really fine
Keeps the memory a part of mine
In a hall of the magestic britain
I'm inveterate to cross the line
Carefully she watches how i speak
In a magistic break doesn't bleak
Tired world makes me the freak
A plague of feelings makes me sick
The steak of heart does not streak
The plague is there wouldn't break
So i keep my eyes away of her eyes
No escape from the morning breeze
A viscous fail on her warmer tears
While i'm lost between the aisles
No matter how much hard I do
Can't Escape the reflections of you
You Know my soul keeps crying too
But i can't forgive The sins you do
Destiny keeps our separated ways
Deeds aren't hearts keeps the ties
Author/ Aladdin Aures H.
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 5:47 AM UTC
Then the arch painter,
up in the blue yonder,
stirs the sea of colours,
and posing in style,
infuses the magic with
tangerine daylight.
Then I don't know
if you were walking
by a brook or a river,
you would tune in,
perhaps like the sweet singer,
Hebrew King David,
the water nymph hums a melody.
Then the narrative resonates,
it never just goes away like the wind.
Birds chirp and sing
in the groves and on every street.
Then I was watching the BBC
on a black and white screen,
the beloved monarch had passed away,
and Britain was mourning.
Then she appeared
once in a stolen exhibition
by my poetry in motion
and jolly happy she was admiring
now she's gone I just dreamed.
Then amidst the melancholy,
I heard twittering birds chirping,
missing the mellifluous melodies,
so awesomely sweet,
alas, Queen Elizabeth wasn't there
to speak her English!
Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 9:06 PM UTC
We are a global society
When we want oranges in the fruit bowl,
When we want out of our rut
Just long enough
To brown in a patch of Spanish sun.
We are a global society
When the Japanese car breaks down
And we are in need of a cheap fix
To keep food on the table,
Some Latvian mechanic
Who helps us find our way home.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
When the zeroes run low
And there are spaces,
Foreign faces,
To which we can point
And blame.
We are a global society
With our sweat-shop chic,
American coffee chains
Selling Colombian ground beans,
Frappuccinos in plastic cups-
Made in China
And served by a Romanian barista
In Italian heels.
We are a global society
When the demand is high
And the payment is low.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
When hands reach out for help
And our pockets are too shallow,
Our time, too brief
To commit to a unity
We feel is dragging us down.
We are a global society
When the football is on,
When the lager is Belgian
And the supermodel, Greek.
When we cradle that bag of Cheetos
After smoking too much ****
We are a global society
When oppression is overt,
Caricatured in bulletin posters,
Threatening to land
Upon our own front door.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
When poverty seems contagious,
When we have to clean up
Someone else’s mess,
Still we scar the Middle East
Only half-interested in an exit.
We are a global society
When we get sick,
When we borrow another doctor
For our ailing NHS.
When cities of white people burn,
We are a global society,
When Africa is divided,
We are nowhere to be seen.
Prime mover of the commonwealth
Yet we fall beneath the breadline
And living easy is so rare.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
Under the false flag
Of a golden age
We were conned to believe in.
Our nation, our island nation,
Lost amongst a sea of misinformation.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
What if this was dystopian Britain;
My droogs and I,
Sipping beverages
At the Korova milk bar,
I viddy a world of chaos
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
Rice cakes!
****
Rice cakes for dinner, rice cakes for lunch!
Rice cakes for breakfast!
****
Don’t they have anything else in this house?
house after house we’ve lived in Nihon*
and all we get to steal from our honorable
but ignorant human hosts
is rice cake and more rice cake...
I hate living in Nihon!
You know, I hear the Dutch and the British
and the Americans give cheese to their mice
even on their ships -
but rats! - what do we mice get
in our honorable land of the rising sun?
Rice cakes!
****
Rice cakes for dinner, rice cakes for lunch!
Rice cakes for breakfast!
****
Look - I don’t know about you - but I’ve had it!
I’m leaving Nihon forever
and I’ll jump onto one of these ships
that now more commonly visit Nihon’s shores
and end up in Britain or Holland eating cheese
and live on a Mouse Cheese Pension maybe for the rest of my life,
O cheese! cheese! - rather that, you know
than rice cakes for dinner, rice cakes for lunch!
Rice cakes for breakfast!
And what are you so composed about?
Lying there on the floor, looking so pleased with yourself -
are you coming or no?
OK...you stay here and join some Zen temple
and eat vegetarian rice cakes all your complacent and placid life -
but I’m going this very night
to the West
to feast and dine on cheese,
like an English gentleman perhaps, all my life...
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 9:30 PM UTC
Talk-show queen
Oprah Winfrey with her entourage
is going to Australia
and it’s timely now for a quick Colbert Report
on the state of the colony of Australia
Colony?
Yes, that’s right
Australia is still a British colony -
How else do you explain it?
as the Head of Government in Australia
is still the British Monarchy
and her Majesty, the Queen of Great Britain,
has her representative
a Governor-General in Australia;
and the Aussie national media faithfully reports
that Prince Philip is a God in some remote island
and the TV stations broadcast visions of
which British Prince kissed which of their latest fancy
And so, Oprah, welcome to the Colony
Ah, yes, and the Chinese migrants coming in
are surprised to learn of Australia’s status
at citizenship ceremonies
and the young man explains to his grandma:
“Oh, Foreign Devil still control Australia;
sad, Chairman Mao did not Liberate Australia.”
And Indian migrants, much to their disappointment
are heard to remark:
“Oh no – does this mean we still have
to go through another fight for freedom as in 1947?”
But then they are consoled by the fact
that a Gandhi only comes once in 200 years
so we can all still get on with our lives
and the nation will continue
to eat burgers and enjoy barbecues and hop like kangaroos
until such things may happen…
Ah well, dear talk-show Queen Oprah Winfrey
and her entourage
this ends our report on the sovereign nation down under:
Happy Stay in Her British Majesty’s Colony
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 12:16 PM UTC
NOTE - The largest animal in Great Britain, a red stag named Emperor who stood over 9ft tall, was last night shot dead by a trophy hunter. The antlers of the majestic deer are highly prized, and after pictures of the stag appeared in the national press last week, the animal was tracked and killed in Exmoor, Devon.
These mist covered mountains of the highlands,
‘twas here that I once freely wandered upon nature’s pasture grounds,
Now I lie shrouded in the mournful fog of the lowlands,
‘twas here that I was met by a pack of bone breaking hounds.
The fresh dew upon the harvest of autumn’s final flowering,
‘twas here that I chewed the grass of sweet nature’s offering,
Now I grow cold upon the ground where I was stalked by dark doom,
‘twas here that I left life’s rocky way under a hunter’s moon.
The air of the early morn moor with the sky above my dome,
‘twas here that I ran and with joy loved and royally roamed,
Now my legs will nevermore click or clack over my domain fenced with tree gates,
‘twas here that I wooed and won my shy majestic mate.
She, my queen of the green woodlands, she was my wife and my empire,
‘twas here that we romanced in the fading summer’s fire,
Our charming child, my princess of these grassy hills now cloaked in shade,
‘twas here that she saw her father the monarch in death finally fade.
In the chorus of the dancing dawn awakening upon the horizon’s golden rhyme,
‘twas here that I sang the tune that will drum till the end of nature’s time,
They will come with stakes and wood and cross and bow me to the beams,
‘twas here where they hacked and tore off my enchanted crown of weeping dreams.
The scent of the freshly mown grass mingles with the green pine,
‘twas here that I drank the perfume and nectar of the divine,
My eyes glaze, my breathing falters, my clay chills, my soul no more sings,
‘twas here that I finally returned to the hands of my Beloved, the eternal King.
*"...I shall now graze upon the sacred acres of my Creator,
I shall frolic and run free in the tender fields of endless splendour..."*
©Rangzeb Hussain
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 3:08 AM UTC
On the twenty third of June, anniversary of my father’s death,
The United Kingdom voted to LEAVE the European Union.
It was a close-run thing:
Fifty two percent to forty eight,
Though over a million votes between.
A result that will go down in the annals of history.
Another vote the pollsters and bookmakers got wrong.
I voted Leave, confidently expecting to Lose!!!
My friends were split in two
As Remainers became ReMOANers!
For I’m now branded a nationalist, bigoted racist
Who has made a massive mistake.
But I insist: Britain has Rejoined the World
And Our Commonwealth.
We are reborn
So sure there will be teething troubles.
We’ll have to learn to walk and talk again.
Cast off your gloom, Remainers!
Rejoice the brand new day.
Britain can be great again
As the dawn chorus resonates around the globe.
Opportunity smiles down on us.
It won’t be easy,
But when ever was it so???
The Phoenix rises,
Unfurling its golden wings…
Paul Butters
© PB 27\6\2016.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
285
The Robin’s my Criterion for Tune—
Because I grow—where Robins do—
But, were I Cuckoo born—
I’d swear by him—
The ode familiar—rules the Noon—
The Buttercup’s, my Whim for Bloom—
Because, we’re Orchard sprung—
But, were I Britain born,
I’d Daisies spurn—
None but the Nut—October fit—
Because, through dropping it,
The Seasons flit—I’m taught—
Without the Snow’s Tableau
Winter, were lie—to me—
Because I see—New Englandly—
The Queen, discerns like me—
Provincially—
3.8k
Steam escapes the surface
Of infant mince pies.
It spirals upwards, dancing
Into the winter haze
Where headlights, opaquely visible,
Fight the fog.
The mist flurries atop the frozen pond,
Over brittle leaves, half caught.
The deer nuzzles in frosty thickets,
Searching the winter veil
For stray nut.
‘neath the tap my hands endure
The bitter cold of winter’s water;
But happily I return to my window,
And cast a gaze once more on winter Britain.
The fire leaves a smoky essence,
A homely smell.
December come.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
You madman ranting in the train
Time sold in that bottle should delay your pain
But what has poisoned you to disordain
Professing the impossible over and over again
"My manhood into" Britain! you claim
The universe is all to blame
Your wishful dreams are driving you insane
To hell with all but what remains
Is just a madman ranting in the train
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
Shema (“Listen”)
by Primo Levi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You who live secure
in your comfortable homes,
who return each evening to find
warm food and a hearty welcome ...
Consider: is this a “man”
who slogs through mud,
who has never known peace,
who fights for scraps of bread,
who lives at another man's whim,
who at his "yes" or "no" lies dead.
Consider: is this a “woman”
shorn bald and bereft of a name
because she lacks the strength to remember,
her eyes as void and her womb as frigid
as a winter frog's?
Consider that such horrors have indeed been!
I commend these words to you.
Engrave them in your hearts
when you lounge in your beds
and again when you rise,
when you venture outside.
Rehearse them to your children,
or may your houses softly crumble
and disease render you equally as humble
so that even your offspring avert their eyes.
Primo Michele Levi (1919-1987) was an Italian Jewish chemist, writer and Holocaust survivor. He was the author of two novels and several collections of short stories, essays, and poems, but is best known for If This Is a Man, his account of the year he spent as a prisoner in the Auschwitz concentration camp in Nazi-occupied Poland. It has been described as one of the best books by one of the most important writers of the twentieth century. His unique work The Periodic Table was shortlisted as one of the greatest scientific books ever written, by the Royal Institution of Great Britain. Levi's autobiographical book about his liberation from Auschwitz, The Truce, became a movie with the same name in 1997. Keywords: Holocaust, poem, Italian, translation, man, mud, woman, bald, nameless, houses, homes, bread, eyes, womb, empty, void, frigid, lifeless, horror, horrors, hearts, write, etch, engrave, inscribe, children, offspring, disease, avert, reject
Mar 14, 2020
Mar 14, 2020 at 4:58 AM UTC
Please do not Leave Facebook, my friend,
These storms will soon subside.
ReMOANERS will get used to “Britain Out”.
They’ll grow tired of making you feel
A *****
For voting to jump the sinking Euro ship.
Don’t leave Facebook
For Google will crash,
Bebo and Myspace will return
And the BitPound will plummet.
Latin will become the default internet language
As hackers rule the web.
Be afraid, very afraid.
The consequences of Leaving would be dire.
But if you Stay here
In the ***** of the Facebook Family
You will be safe and secure
And eligible to claim
Your complimentary cuddly toy.
Paul Butters
© PB 25\6\2016.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 6:09 AM UTC
The assassins hit in 63
And Camelot was gone,
Inspiration vanished
And the darkness sang it’s song.
*Vietnam escalated
Brezhnev’s Russia loomed,
Africa was eviscerated
And Red China entombed.
*Floating on a long white cloud
The Kiwis were replete
With abundant British markets
For their butter, wool and meat.
*The Europeans went ****
And Britain lost it’s way
When the Beatles and the Rolling Stones
Monopolized their day.
*Man landed on the moon
And raised the Yankee flag
And they shot Mahatma Ghandi
For making good things out of bad.
*The Berlin Wall dividing,
The Cold War tense and spare,
ICBM’s threaten silently
In their silos of despair.
*Bob Menzies ruled Australia
As an amassing of his loot
And his White Australia Policy
Condemned him as a brute.
*Found naked on her tousled bed,
Blonde hair across her face,
Marylin Monroe is dead
The world’s a darker place.
*In the Age of Aquarius
Our children lost their youth,
LSD and smoking ***
And Afro’s were the proof.
*Lots of leg in miniskirts,
High bouffant’s in the hair,
Screaming teeny boppers
Rock with Elvis on “the Air”.
*Giant, Rawhide, Ponderosa,
Martin Luther King,
Kaftans and a cheese fondue,
Abortion is a sin!
It’s a sixties kaleidoscope,
A panoramic skim
Of an era of wonderment
Which you and I lived in.
Marshalg
@the Gate
Mangere Bridge
20th January 2009
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 2:25 PM UTC
Some voted for freedom from that rusty EU shackle.
Discussed immigration issues they were unable to tackle.
An establishmentarian North, South divide. When poverty strikes there's nowhere to hide.
Deep trenched anger rising from the disenfranchised vote. The pound devalued as the right wing gloat.
Uncertain times causes a global ripple. Bank of England acts to avoid economic *******
But what of our neighbours? Our brothers in arms? Democratic victors, do they know who this harms?
Young against old, divisions laid bare. Political wrangling, do they really care?
The Prime Minister resigns and a new chapter to be written.
Democracy wins in a diverse, Great Britain.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 4:00 AM UTC
/ *oh no no no... you don't get a jew artefact at this point, when the play of words comes between the son and the mother... no no no... you're target; she should be a **** a stripper, a ***** but when you do what this, "englishman" did? undermining the concept of personal property? ownership? his property infringes on your property, and somehow: my, yours, our's doesn't compute... i'm ******* craving to **** my neighbour... because all i have left to lose is... frothing at the mouth.*
at a supermarket:
within the confines
of a cashier:
- 'is this your typical
friday night?'
say it plain, chubby...
**** it: more cushion
for the pushin'...
sunglasses at 6am?
a reply:
- 'it could be'
- 'if you were part of it'
- 'what?'
i'd love to fiddle with excesses
of porky...
migrant crisis?
more like a ***** cricis...
import black ****
given the white boy lay low...
it's not even funny,
i find it funny attempting
to whistle...
which i can't,
given that i found laughter...
just don't come between me
and mt "neighbour":
cos i'll **** the ******* ****
and "he's" watching me?
sorry:
i'll **** the ******* ****
fuck-face-tard!
no, i will;
i can't conceive retaining
the anglophone aspect of comedy
within the confines
of the monologue,
with a cabaret....
i'll **** him...
next time we exfoliates
speaking to my mother,
and not... looking
into my eyes...
"englishman": spew!
you! now! clean up this
***********
******* english!
like you bred a people,
gesticulating with
a hand gesture...
new yankies...
britain: home,
of the the wankies.
p.s.
no... private property contra
private property
within this ****** vogue...
i seriouslly will throw
a **** into his garden,
and say...
not enough fox hunting,
d'uh!
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC