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"bussing" poems
When the funding is cut So the hospitals shut That’s a Tory When the poverty bites And you lose human rights That’s a Tory Such excess Better reassess Better repossess Better get yourself private healthcare Overtaxed if you work Unemployed? Then you're scrounging on welfare When there’s bigoted views Blatant lies on the news That’s a Tory When the biggest and best Are too rich to arrest That’s a Tory But they’re lax Covering the cracks Never paying tax Claiming everything on expenses They can steal with a smile While they peddle their flimsy defences When they're guilty of fraud And they're banking abroad That's a Tory If they're selling your school When 'austere' means 'cruel' That's a Tory Too much spin Slogan and a grin Wearing pretty thin Bussing people in to applaud them Any law can be bought If you're well off enough to afford them That's all folks and remember, you can't spell Theresa May without heresy **
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Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 7:04 PM UTC
That’s a Tory (to the tune of That's Amore)
I warned you, son. "Don't break her heart." Now you think about that while I rip you apart. I don't know what it is you seek, but my sister is out of your league. Failed to see how lucky you were. Did not heed my warning when you texted her What kind of ***** breaks up via texting? The same little ***** that thinks bussing is flexing. She'll move onto better, just for a toy. She won't wait long for a mere busboy. I could go on forever about things that you lack. Like, interest, money, a life, a six-pack. You'll never be good enough for my little sister, but I hope she's moved on when you realize you've missed her.
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Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
To The Boy That Broke My Sister's Heart
bussing your lips, was like a jolt of electricity waking up the red blood under my skin meeting your lips, was like walking in a garden full of red roses that signify love and passion before we kiss, i traced your full lips with my fingertips, admiring how comely and carnation it looked i admired the feeling of your breath how your heart beats fleet for me and when you returned my kiss it reminded me how alive you were i imagined, you were in a suit your hair was neatly combed your beauteous lips curving widely as you watched me walking through that door with flowers in my hands father by my side and my red lips lusting for your kiss i felt happy you felt happier you said it has always been your dream to kiss me in that black suit and im in my white dress so here i am in my white dress and you're in your black suit kissing you for the last time as you lay down in that coffin not returning my kiss anymore
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Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 6:48 AM UTC
red lips
The ferns have taken over most of the forest floor you can barely see your feet through the bushy flora moor Early spring flowers have come and gone and now replaced by summer song Butterfly bushes bussing with bees New life singing high in the trees Regrowth of mind as your nature unwinds hart waxing fatter as you take in what matters! Uncountable species and we are but one lunar submissive in our paradise under our life giving Goldilocks Sun Life has just begun ..............................
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Jun 15, 2021
Jun 15, 2021 at 9:45 AM UTC
Mid June Wanderer
which were the center of the Earth. A rill, a gentle excite that rolled from side to side touching the verdant moors and bridging the tepid winds through the mirthy wood. She afluntered, pivoting in circles, pronouncing an aubade for a throng anthropolatrating agelasts. Her palms and dactyls outstretched. A chilliad had passed, still her astereognosis never produced the fields and trunks before her. Amending the acronycal light an aeolistic caitiff arose, piercing the crowd, rising to her circumference. This clapperdudgeon and callet woman rang out in a cacophony of sharp jabbering, then another blellum arrived, then another carker, soon they were all cloffin at the pyre. Her lips instantly wet, her mouth broke its pursed chastity, and among the meek she suddenly was overcome with an incredible basorexia. And so she began, bussing left to right, osculating the buffoons and bavians. Some cullion tried their way towards & towards and then disappeared in a comestion, another dratchell roused himself, sudorous and covered in culch. The concilliabule was dwaible now, those who weren't prying for her kisses were dwaling about frantically croodling, mooing, even barking. This wild frenzied lot of basiation and baisements. Beazing in the dying sun she began to crose and cough. Her blood and spit, her saliva became estiferous and unstable, she began to eroteme herself, her healthy figure was now ectomorphic. Her thoughts were unsettling, she began to fantasize her own decollation. Some sauntering madman with a sleek leather overcoat and an enormous hatchet hunching over her. It overcame her, this auto deicidal ideology in addition, the sweet kir began to wear off, and all she could feel was lackluster, emptiness, indifference. Eventually her acrasia overcame her and in her accidia and overbearing mania she took her own life. Her head slipped from her shoulders and rolled casually past her body, her knees collapsing before her feet, before her torso. And the abderian men and women cackled, just sat and stared her life, her love, all gone and disappeared.
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Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 6:36 AM UTC
her breaths
which were the center of the Earth. A rill, a gentle excite that rolled from side to side touching the verdant moors and bridging the tepid winds through the mirthy wood. She afluntered, pivoting in circles, pronouncing an aubade for a throng anthropolatrating agelasts. Her palms and dactyls outstretched. A chilliad had passed, still her astereognosis never produced the fields and trunks before her. Amending the acronycal light an aeolistic caitiff arose, piercing the crowd, rising to her circumference. This clapperdudgeon and callet woman rang out in a cacophony of sharp jabbering, then another blellum arrived, then another carker, soon they were all cloffin at the pyre. Her lips instantly wet, her mouth broke its pursed chastity, and among the meek she suddenly was overcome with an incredible basorexia. And so she began, bussing left to right, osculating the buffoons and bavians. Some cullion tried their way towards & towards and then disappeared in a comestion, another dratchell roused himself, sudorous and covered in culch. The concilliabule was dwaible now, those who weren't prying for her kisses were dwaling about frantically croodling, mooing, even barking. This wild frenzied lot of basiation and baisements. Beazing in the dying sun she began to crose and cough. Her blood and spit, her saliva became estiferous and unstable, she began to eroteme herself, her healthy figure was now ectomorphic. Her thoughts were unsettling, she began to fantasize her own decollation. Some sauntering madman with a sleek leather overcoat and an enormous hatchet hunching over her. It overcame her, this auto deicidal ideology in addition, the sweet kir began to wear off, and all she could feel was lackluster, emptiness, indifference. Eventually her acrasia overcame her and in her accidia and overbearing mania she took her own life. Her head slipped from her shoulders and rolled casually past her body, her knees collapsing before her feet, before her torso. And the abderian men and women cackled, just sat and stared her life, her love, all gone and disappeared.
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19
Hitting the grindstone once again Aching regretting pounding ringing Words pages lines and letters Chewing mashing crunching swallowing I left you lonely in your bed Sleeping easing dreaming wheezing To come home to you later Driving bussing going speeding And make love to you Writhing releasing hearts beating Only to fall asleep Slowly softly warmly with me And rise again to repeat the cycle
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Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
Hitting The Grindstone
And the memory of melting Zodiac popsicles, running down your sweet lips. and the yearning for cool pinhead rain kissing my back on hot summer solace days, and the belly aching of annoying friends like harbor flies bussing around my head., you know the really big ones. and in the kitchen the dishes slumber deep in their porcelain bed, and barnacle pieces of food cling to their smooth sun dial edges, and lazy dish ***** run up and down left and right in my imagination across their face. the karma of ***** dishes and a summer deluge of missing you that just won't stop.
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Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 1:30 PM UTC
The karma of ***** dishes/the nowhere poems
Two eyes on the surface of the glass like pond Do they see me, are they watching? Quiet and alone I feel tranquillity Imagining the four legs wide with long spread toes Floating as on a cloud Totally suspended without effort The sun is bright and warm The pond being small must be the same I feel like we are the only 2 living beings left on earth Not a fly, bird in the sky or animal Suspended in time neither of us move What could change this moment? I hear it now, bussing around me Swooping over the pond, like lightening lunch delivered The ripples mesmerising No longer any eyes to look at I am alone
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Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
Tranquility
We enslaved by the mind why you think they called brain cells,yea it's eight planets so I'm guessing that it's more hells,they aiming for me wit slow bullets call em turtle shells,yea I got a quarter so I'm looking for the wishing wells,say Ima die early man I'm calling that them fairy tales,rapping like I'm casting spells,only taking W's ion really take no L's,and if I did it's a lesson,if I learned it's a blessing,living life like I'm just testing,my opponents they just guessing,changing things like I'm the setting,on the path like I'm just destined,out the box I'm never checking,gods gift I come from heaven,starting things like Armageddon,yea my voice a deadly weapon,asking me a who you threating,officer like why sweating,I want the top like I'm the heading,no conclusion,I do this for my brothers the ones that's on the street and sometimes don't even got they mothers,using drugs as they covers,bussing guns with no rubbers,killing each other like wild lovers life is like a war x2 so what you stand for,is it them Jordan's on your feet,or that song that's on the radio and you only like the beat,this worlds a trick and not a treat,we don't live by they rules so they trying say we cheat,then they **** us with that heat,give our movas the receipt,and it's going stop we just gotta see,you don't gotta be foreign,washing up on the shoring,when I see make up on women ,catch Z's like I'm snoring,expand the mind like we touring,clean up our mess like we choring,treat ignorance like it's boring
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Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
Death in Disguise
We enslaved by the mind why you think they called brain cells,yea it's eight planets so I'm guessing that it's more hells,they aiming for me wit slow bullets call em turtle shells,yea I got a quarter so I'm looking for the wishing wells,say Ima die early man I'm calling that them fairy tales,rapping like I'm casting spells,only taking W's ion really take no L's,and if I did it's a lesson,if I learned it's a blessing,living life like I'm just testing,my opponents they just guessing,changing things like I'm the setting,on the path like I'm just destined,out the box I'm never checking,gods gift I come from heaven,starting things like Armageddon,yea my voice a deadly weapon,asking me a who you threating,officer like why sweating,I want the top like I'm the heading,no conclusion,I do this for my brothers the ones that's on the street and sometimes don't even got they mothers,using drugs as they covers,bussing guns with no rubbers,killing each other like wild lovers life is like a war x2 so what you stand for,is it them Jordan's on your feet,or that song that's on the radio and you only like the beat,this worlds a trick and not a treat,we don't live by they rules so they trying say we cheat,then they **** us with that heat,give our movas the receipt,and it's going stop we just gotta see,you don't gotta be foreign,washing up on the shoring,when I see make up on women ,catch Z's like I'm snoring,expand the mind like we touring,clean up our mess like we choring,treat ignorance like it's boring
Continue reading...
1
this is an invitation to act rashly I close my fists, full of imagined marbles as big as your big hands and hot to touch I imagine sitting cross-legged on his floor we are in front of his salmon couch on the frayed area rug I imagine he has I imagine he has mismatched dressers I don’t know why I imagine us on the floor his couch is probably softer than it looks sometimes they sit on the floor in the movies maybe we didn’t want pizza grease on the furniture our knees touch, I imagine, indian style unmoving we exchange embarrassing **** we wrote in college I think how college was earlier for him than for me how while he was losing his virginity I was bussing back from a jv tennis match I imagine him laughing at a word in my poem I defend my phrase, lunging then lounging on his quadricep he’s showing teeth and crinkly eyes, putting his hand on my forearm draped on his leg he thinks the phrase is cute, actually, and so human I imaging smiling back and we’re looking at each other for a little too long and the air is electric in the way it gets when there’s poetry in it and teeth showing and skin touching and we are very close to one another, I imagine I can’t stop imagining I unclench my fists quietly drop the marbles this is an invitation to act rashly I turn to you and tell you I’m having a really nice time
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Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 6:50 PM UTC
As Always
Apple lights keep hurting my eyes Street corners breaking my threads The concrete is now heating up The constant noise I’m hearing fades I’m fighting dreams of other cities This phone keeps bussing me I feel like a ghost in my reality I’m busy but not keeping it busy The screen distracting me from the concrete All I’m asking for is an everything bagel I’m hungry and dizzy in an empire wonderland of hopeful thinking • I’m trying to speak all these lights into an existence I’m trying to walk in the streets best for me Apple Empire lights have my eyes awake Sipping on juice but eyes keep sleep crawling Keep me from breaking bridges I want to go for loop-de-loops in a six speed Burning at the light and time we have all day
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Oct 6, 2020
Oct 6, 2020 at 11:27 PM UTC
Apple Empire
Comely daughters, go through the square to play your games, don't go elsewhere. If you look at him, look at with sin cross yourself, care for that cross you bear. Wily Jane, how'd they get you caught? How'd they swindle you on all you bought? Didn't come around to be the clown; but I think your streak is still going hot. A face like a looking glass, Which gave back whate'er I asked. I gave her smiles, she gave me laughter. A roving life delivered her here, bussing back home, crying no tears. This type: something I'm after.
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Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
Huancavelicana
If treasure's a pleasure then I'm feeling pleased. Five words are all it takes to make a story tell a story, ten are better so are twenty more but we start little and start slow and work our way up and on the second floor behind the third door is what we all aim for. what's your aim? peace on earth? financial gain? the same as or different to the person who's stood next to you? A Tuesday muse to infuse the mind or tequila to make it spin.
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Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC
Bussing it