"condom" poems
To my socks,
We play footsie every day,
I can't go anywhere without you.
To my socks,
You are like a ******
when my feet are without you,
They are susceptible to great danger.
With you,
Less so.
When in shoes,
Without you, is like a sweaty, fiery hell,
No relief.
With you,
Soft, comfy, footy majestic ness.
Walking on cold floors,
You are still there for me.
Even for that poor boy Richard, he uses socks now and then,
For his silly foot,
Poor boy.
I admire you dear socks,
They're is nothing else I would rather have on my feet.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 7:50 AM UTC
Amanda, a crazy collector of Vanda
had such an intense dislike for Aranda
she detested the ******
when making out in tandem
her outdoor escapade once scared a Panda
(C) K.Balachandran
[email protected]
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 9:32 PM UTC
I hope my good old ******* holds out
60 years it's been mostly OK
Tho in Bolivia a fissure operation
survived the altiplano hospital--
a little blood, no polyps, occasionally
a small hemorrhoid
active, eager, receptive to phallus
coke bottle, candle, carrot
banana & fingers -
Now AIDS makes it shy, but still
eager to serve -
out with the dumps, in with the condom'd
******** friend -
still rubbery muscular,
unashamed wide open for joy
But another 20 years who knows,
old folks got troubles everywhere -
necks, prostates, stomachs, joints--
Hope the old hole stays young
till death, relax
March 15, 1986, 1:00 PM
8.1k
Two teens with too much time left to themselves
Both experiences represented by flat lines on hospital machines during sad times
Flipped on it’s *** end quite literally
My youth is my virginity
Finding religion suddenly
Praying in my head “God, if you exist, don’t let the ****** break”
Her face in angst
I begin to flake
Spine reverberates
Elbows Shake
Bedside table vibrates
Text message
Receiving
Mom: When will you be home
Response: I won’t, I’m leaving my old self on these bed sheets
Send
My youth is my virginity
Time becomes an illusion
Not knowing how long we’ve been doing this
Minutes become seconds
Seconds to years
Years are months
Months.... minutes
I alone finish
Quickly getting dressed separately
Previously so ecstatic to slowly peel each others layers away
An eternity of silent eye contact jam packed into countless repetitive heartbeats
A mix of misinterpreted expressions cross our minds as we sink into the realization that we are no longer children
Our youth is our virginity
Your inner thighs have defined the ending milestone of my childhood
In return I thank you and grace you
No other person I’d rather have that connection with
Though we’ve long departed, our current standing is disheartening
Let’s give birth, not to children, but to friendships
I want to to represent my life with a cobblestone road
Being able to get to the end to find success, not regrets
I hand you the first stone
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 7:36 AM UTC
My name is *** and I have no friend, I infect unborn during labor and infents during breastfeeding ,teenage s during unprotected sex,adults with multiple partners, I don't choose colours.
I infect whites,blacks,coloured and Indian,people call me names,like 3 series, magama mathathu,koloi ya eliya,go slowly and I have no problem because I have one friend which is death,you fail to use my enermy condom,my friend will attack you.
please young generation upstain for I have no mercy,adults be faithful because I will pass like a chameleon and once I reach you,you will point your finger to witches and while doing that,you will be on the grave unknown.
get tested and stay loyal,me hlv my high point is ***** or viginal fluid so be careful little mistake I will get there and hide there till I end all off your immune system or in an easy way your white blood cells.
to win me is to condomise,be faithful, abstain or do it your self that's musterbation, wear gloves when helping any one because you may never know where I am hiding.
if you already have me talk to your health professionals ,if not I will finish you without knowledge, because I am a bio slim and I am in love with your blood.
to win me test before is too late because I will take you into your bed as you took that partner of yours and to me is gonna be hard to be awake.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
this is just another ******* **** poem
why just another **** poem?
you sit there and think
why talk about this so often
when the economy is collapsing
and children are starving
and there's a possibility of a
world war 3?
but guess what ******
this poem isn't for you
its for those who's souls have been
tied down and beaten
for those who have lost all hope
for those who have been told that its
"all their fault"
to them, this poem isn't
just another ******* **** poem
it is their savior poem
the one thing that points
out the ****** up things
like double standards
and victim blaming
it may give them the
push that will break the ropes
that hold their souls down
this is the poem that will
restore hope for those who have
given up because society has
given up them and tossed them away
like a used ******
and I will continue writing other
******* **** poems
until my mother stops telling me
to not forget my mace
until I dont have to pay for 500$
self defense classes, on the off chance that hey,
maybe I wont be ***** tonight.
until im not blamed for being attacked
until my ****** is not pitted for his
football carer being ended prematurely
until I can dress like a **** and get home safely
I will continue writing **** poems
until I have nothing ******* left
to write about
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
Panginoon mo ang
Panganorin. Bertud
Ka ng hubad na diwata.
Likhang-isip, halukipkip
Ng wika, pedestal ng
Luha, ikaw itong kalahatan
Ng kasalatan ng unawa't
Awa ng hangal na madla.
Samut-saring anyo't samyo
Ng opyong bumabawi ng
Bait at hinanakit sa buhay
Ngunit masugid na patrong
Naghahasik ng biyaya
Sa anyo ng
bote
pakete
lata
spaghetti
langaw
lumot
bangaw
ipis
lotion
******
burak
darak
barya
kariton
prosti
sutana
artista
politiko
pulis
tsismis
atbp.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
[Intro:]
'Sace, 'sace
'Knock one, 'knock one
Mustard on the beat, **
[Hook:]
Shirt, shirt by Versace
***** you better **** sumn
** Hoes wanna knock one
***** you better **** sumn
Shirt, shirt by Versace
***** you better **** sumn
** Hoes wanna knock one
***** you better **** sumn
[Verse 1: Kirko Bangz]
I just bought a shirt for tonight, **
And it cost five-hundred (Better **** sumn!)
I seen a bad ***** at the light, oh!
My car cost two-hundred (Better **** sumn!)
Uh, got 'Sace on the chain
Louis, that's my side ** Versace, that's my main
'Sace in the car so that's 'Sace in the lane
All day I dream about Versace on the linen
****** at work and now she bugging me. Versace John Lennon.
I only want the ***** if she expensive
**** the ** in Versace, had some boojie *** children
Doing what I’m suppose to do
I'm in Versace my ****** they in 'Sace too
Ain't no fun unless we all get some
If I'm ******* then my ****** they ******* too
[Hook:]
[Verse 2: French Montana]
Hundred-Thou' what I'm buying here?
Talking lion head ***** better **** sumn!)
Hundred-Thou' on these Cuban Links.
Medusa Face ***** better **** sumn!)
And my shirt eight-hundred
And just copped a honey ***** better **** sumn!)
These bottles they hundred
I just copped a hundred (Man, ***** better **** sumn!)
Got syrup by the liter. ***** Homie, Ima beat it
Catch the ***** like Jeter haa
Picture a ***** balling the ***** get to calling
******* get to fallin
Kamikaze. Shirt by Versace
Know my diamonds flash paparazzi
Give a **** about a hater
I be getting to the paper
**** ***** get your weight up haa
[Hook:]
[Verse 3: YG]
It's YG 400!
Shirt Versace, ******* is a hobby
I love a ***** that **** **** so sloppy
In high school she was a **
Hundred dollar bills on the floor
***** you better **** sumn!
And that's straight up
I prefer a bad ***** with no make-up
I got my cake up. Ya'll playas say sumn
I'm never paying for ***** and I'm never going bankrupt
My shirt's Versace. ***** red like Rudolph
Try to rob me I'll **** back that shooter
Trying to count how many ******* ***** I ate
Why you do that? Cuz I love how it taste. Ooo!
Me and Kirko on that purple
Geeked up like Urkel
Middle fingers in the air I don't trust you *******
Spent my money on me so I can **** you ******* Ooo!
[Hook:]
[Verse 4: G-Haze]
Got a shirt by Gianni
In your main ** that's where you can find me
Why these haters want to mean mug me
Cuz I'm coming down clean and they ******* wanna **** sumn
Trick you better **** sumn
Stepped in the party make a ***** wanna cuff sumn
Po-Po that's a No-No
Give me Ocho-Cinco!
Uhh, **** that ****** by Versace when I hit from the back
She gon' call me "Papi" while she sit up on my lap
Sip syrup lean and I got it from the trap
But I ain't a dope boy
Shirt by Versace got me feeling like a coke boy
Gold grillz, gold chain, LMG be the game
***** you better **** sumn!
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC
I hate the way you hold cigarettes
and how you never drunk text me
at 3am. I want to be the person you
think of when a sloppy drunkard
is kissing you at a bar. His breath
rank with stale stogies, light beer,
and cheap whiskey. He uses way too
much tongue and swears his ****
won’t fit in a ****** He couldn’t
spell *********** and even if he uses
his fingers, it’s not enough to make you
*** I hate bad lovers and that’s all
I imagine you with. Dudes who say
“wanna play just the tip?” and other
lame *** **** because nobody ever
told them “ladies first” and you have
to stimulate the ****
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
It is ******** when a child is being abused everday for no reason other then there born. If you dont want children. Heres 2 ideas dont have *** or if u do use a ****** and birth control or adoption. It is no fare to a child being abused for there parents lack of protection or chioces. That child has a right to live a good life. The child will do anything for one person to touch them in a postitive way. To feel loved cared for and nertuerd the way all children are suppose to be treated. There is a difference between spanking and abusing your child. 1 you dont leave marks. 2 You do it out of love not hate. 3 You tell them you love them after you spank them. "You dont cuss or tell your child you are a **** of **** go to hell I wish you were never born you are a mistake" you dont abuse your child its wrong and illegal when you do abuse your child and say those things they believe you because they dont know who else to believe other then there parents. They already wish they werent born when you abuse your child. They want out of the abuse but they dont know how so they stay. So when they grow up they either commit suicside become alcoholics, drug addicts or become abusive to there child or children. It is ******** that people adults watch this and let it happen. Even if you are not sure ask the child. The child might want to tell you but cant. The child will tell you because no child wants to be abused no child. If they dont get the help they need they will struggle there whole lifes over there abuse. Tell someone immediatley so they can get the help they need immediatly before its to late. Some even die for there parents the parents will stab them shoot them or beat them to death. Then when you did know about that child being abused you will feel guilty for not going to anyone about that child. So STOP CHILD ABUSE before its to late. Stop them from bringing abuse into there family. They may abuse there children because they were never taught how to disapline there child right. So the adult that abused when younger will " disapline" there child or children the way they were taught by abusing them. Its not right to let this go on not only is it not right but its sick to let it go on. STOP CHILD ABUSE now by telling someone if you know someone is being abused or even if u have a slight idea. Stop them from beong a concrete angel. Another peace ofstone on the ground.
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 9:38 PM UTC
*** Worker to a house wife -->)
Entertain not for me hatred
It is only for a daily bread
I take your husband abed.
Since you are so timid
In haste, you leave your husband
Restless and discontented.
********** is an art
My dear sister
You should surely master
Than on me nicknames pester
Harlot,Slut,Hooker and a *****
Read a lot on the subject
With your spouse develop the art
At long last
When you prove your dexterity
In conjugal felicity
A tip it would be for mental integrity.
With affection and suggestion open
Your spouse,you can turn
A ********** machine,
What else do you need in return.
By and By
You may not seek a hit on the sly
(<--A housewife to a *** worker)
My dear sister in Christ
I know there is nothing foul in your heart
Except,you are a *** worker by ill fate.
Thanks a lot for your comment
Which I will second no doubt.
Dear sister in Christ
At times if both
You and my husband
Get debouch of beer or Highland
Check you have a ****** at hand
Just when you hold him inside,
For otherwise
Severe will be the consequence
For me and my child.
So you are morally obliged
By "No ****** no *** to abide
I am also willing to you extend
A helping hand
That could help you
On your feet stand
Than barter your body
For a daily bread!
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
Before walking through the doorway
Made of trash bags
A woman checked our ID’s
We passed the booth with the feathers and the ball-gags
Passed the woman selling *** toys
Just a white awning with plastic chairs
We sat and watched a man dressed in leather
He was the kind of expert who understood his passion
But for him there was no teaching it
Beer saturated my white shirt
As I sweated it out
I could feel the alcohol in my lungs
I breathed slower as if it would hide the sensation
He explained to us puppy play
The dynamics
He had his own puppy with him
A man so good at making wet eyes
So good at seeming lost
He barked and wagged an invisible tail
Chewed on rope
Probably he thought about burying his bone
What his wife might be making for dinner
Wondered if I had recognized him as a regular
At my work
While taking questions the leather man said
It takes time to discover the puppy inside
It makes me think of how
In order to view ourselves as anything
We need a filter
I want you to **** me
With a ****** full of yes
I told them
If I were a puppy
I would be very stupid
But great to cuddle
We can admit these things about ourselves
While in character
If I tell you
I am pretending to be anything
I can still find ways to pretend to be me
It is like an electric chair
Disguised as a lazy boy
It will not hold you for long
Your skin does not fit proper
It makes me think of my father
The Clown
Who bent me into shape
With his balloon animal breath
Only he had asthma
The empty static
My inner puppy
Is a half deflated balloon poodle
Ends pulled tight like amputee sausage link limbs
Looking lost and lonely isn’t hard
What’s hard about it is
Looking like that was your intention
In character
Some invisible narrator
I can admit anything
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 4:28 PM UTC
Society detests innocence
Often shaking hands with ignorance
Exchanging phone numbers with bliss.
We hate it cause we’re jealous.
So we send loaded words their way.
Our mouths, like pistols
shooting bullets full of hate.
Someday we shall see the error of our ways.
Until then,
******
We call him.
He who has yet to be used,
Or more so, use another for pleasure
****** and then leave a woman and a ******
on a Hotel’s bathroom floor,
alone and broken.
Square.
We say
To she who has never felt the itch.
Needed so badly to scratch it
and get her fix
that she steal from her two month old daughters college fund
so she can fly away and forget….
Try as we may, we never forget
How it feels to fall from the sky.
So, we know how to make a mockingbird cry.
We know how to make a mockingbird cry.
And we know how it feels
to **** one
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 8:02 AM UTC
I
Stacked green crates by the futon,
records sealed as buried letters,
each sleeve longing
to be drawn out into daylight
by her small, thoughtful hands.
I just want to play that Nick Cave again
teenager’s resolve in her voice,
she drops the needle on "Tupelo",
traces Peter Murphy with her thumb,
holds Kate Bush to the light
like stained glass.
She laughs
at the ****** box on the speaker.
I tell her it’s never going to happen.
She grins, unbothered,
says she only came for the vinyl.
I watch her tilt each sleeve,
never touching the grooves,
brush the dust,
lay the needle like a secret,
slide the disc back without a wrinkle.
Each time I’m surprised
by her precision.
It’s the third time
she’s dropped by.
She makes mixtapes.
Pressing pause,
pressing record,
stitching songs
into a spine of hiss.
Once, to me, or to herself,
she said her father wanted a tape.
She’d mail it when
he had somewhere to send it.
She follows me across the bridge,
talking about her brother,
an ex-best friend,
mimicking her professor,
how he wags his tongue
when he writes on the chalkboard.
I haul a duffel:
apron, uniform, boots heavy with grease.
She skips in the rain,
strumming cables, humming
the last song played, still in the air.
II
I unlock the door,
steeped in garlic and kitchen sweat,
boots leaving grime on the boards.
She isn’t there-
only the crates, stacked neater,
jackets squared, spines aligned,
as if her care was meant for me.
The room settles with her absence,
yet holds me upright
in its small, thoughtful hands.
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 8:11 PM UTC
chocolate fireguard, teapot,
or fender, icecream sofa, dry sea
or wet towel, glass hammer,
waterproof teabag, newspaper
raincoat and umbrella, lead parachute, ashtray on a motorbike,
handbrake on a canoe,
vote in a dictatorship,
loudhailer to a deaf mute,
grief at a wedding,
****** in a monastery.
inflatable dartboard,
spoon in a knife-fight,
screen door on a submarine,
wooden soap, shortbread tires,
knitted light bulb,
bread boat, plasticine wire cutters,
paper hole punch, water hat,
custard floorboards,
ceiling tiles made of gravy,
portrait of a bowl of soup,
a stone cigarette,
syrup knickers, hole in my bucket,
plastic oven, wax truss,
liquorice bridge,
false teeth made of soap,
lemonade roof,
jelly boots,
jam cardigan,
paper bicycle pump,
ice-cream saucepans,
soluble drain pipe,
packet of rubber nails,
see-through mirror,
revolving basement restaurant
roll-on hairspray, rubber pencil,
****** with a hole in it,
limp **** pockets on a lettuce,
**** on a fish, lolly pop van in Hell,
one-legged man in an ****
kicking competition,
meaningless life,
unnecessary death,
forgotten words and deeds,
ignored needs,
this poem.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
Intimidating intimacy
I’ll wait for you to put a ring on my finger,
Not a ****** on your *****
Intimate intimidation
Assertiveness, not aggressiveness, is a quality fit for a
Prince. Your highness,
Dost thou want thy queen?
Seems even marriage has fallen under the blanket of
Fashion over Function.
Wedding rings mean more than wedding vows.
Gone are the days in which marriages fueled society, and
Function before Fashion.
Cheers to the weeping ages of an ill generation.
If only love lasted as long as 14 karat gold.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:31 PM UTC
The mirror stained with our memories, pictures
I am not in many of them
I count;
four pictures, we look happy
The bleeding sky was the only thing that gave us release
Like the winter would fill our bones
and cigarette smoke would ignite the fire in our eyes
that had long since burned out
we lay on that floor on the balcony till dawn
talking about how
we will never be good enough and
life is pointless
I show her my scars apathetically
nothing effects
me anymore
My bubble cant be burst
surrounded by static
scream
want to scream
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
He walks through the door,
And he holds me tight.
I can feel it already,
Starting to rise.
He picks me up gently,
Throws me down on the bed.
Touches my body,
And kisses my neck.
My hands slide down
His chest,
Looking for the tool,
I need
to fix
my
needs.
We don't use a ******
'Cause I'm on the pill.
So he unbuttons my jeans,
And I'm begging for more.
He takes of my shirt,
sets it down on the floor.
He takes a deep breath,
As I undo his jeans,
Open my mouth,
Aiming to please.
His hand is on my head,
And I pick up the speed.
He pulls it out,
and I say,
"Put it inside me."
He does what I ask,
And says,
"Oh my god, you're so wet.
And so tight, oh god.."
And he slams into me.
While I begin to scream.
Scream his name,
And scratch at his back.
All fairytales,
Have a happy ending.
He indeed had,
A happy ending.
All over my chest.
Mar 15, 2010
Mar 15, 2010 at 4:20 AM UTC
Black soot
Shrivelled up Cadbury
wrapper eyes
You were not my antidote
You turned a balanced
happy
friendly
spice 'n' all things nice girl
into a hermit with
bloodied fingers, a
self-destructive narcissist
(or did you just
coax her out of her shell)
well
I quit on you
the ****** is the **** spoon
your prose the lighter
your hips the dealer
my heart the coffin.
I cried
I cry
I will cry
Over your constellation swamps
Housing crocodiles
Water-borne diseases
and piranhas
I am naive;
I think my youth protects me.
My youth enslaves me.
Binds me in paper chains.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC
I’m going through a phase where I put glitter on everything
I went to a craft store and I bought like five different colors
And some brushes and glues so I could just paint ******* everything with glitter.
I don’t want to just paint some pencils and notebooks or some shoes and headbands,
I want to paint my **** walls with glitter
I want to paint YOUR **** walls with glitter
I want to sew glitter into your clothes
I want to sew glitter into your skin
Get a bunch of sewing needles dripping with shiny blood
Get red and sunshine under my fingernails
I want to have *** with a boy
(in his car or wherever, I don’t care)
and when we’re done, I’ll throw the ****** away and then toss some glitter in the air and cover his torso with sparkles
Because then no matter how fast he moves on
He’ll have to deal with me for just a little bit longer
And he’ll have to give me just one more thought,
at least when he’s washing the glitter down the drain of his shower.
Jun 26, 2012
Jun 26, 2012 at 10:15 PM UTC
Sinking like a carelessly cosmic ****** on the 4th of J-U-L-Y, while a distressed young mountain lion lies on your feet.
Watch out for the cautious rubber shark inside the lines. It'd be something like Frank Zappa stuck on a deserted island with a dealer of his liking or disdain.
I believe in outlandish crazy industrialists in the distance between here and nowhere.
Lucifer has been infused with witchcraft and crack ******* Mindless ******* Thank your God.
Excellent nutrition is being presented as gluttony. Which in turn has caused your little sister to make daily offerings to a porcelain god.
Pleasure didn't invent rebellion but rebellion did however invent pleasure. Don't confuse the two.
A believer is magnetically drawn to immorality, much like man is to faith.
Inspiration simply radiates free energy and a smile should never be compared to a frown.
Dreaming can be mistaken for productivity. Dream big people, dream big.
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 3:56 PM UTC
We the pixies clench our buttocks..... Or up yours Dave...
There is tell of a foetid rancid hellish hole
in the wild wood,
only visible by half light - every leap year,
where thick knobbed hairy arsed gnomes
plot the buggering of slim hipped
virginal pixies.
they sit cross legged on woolsacks-
knitting ****** shaped thorny policies
for the inevitable insertion,
the thickest of **** and hairiest of ****
get to chew upon the sweetmeat
of the mythical proletariat in perpetuity
as a stipend for their buggery,,,
or so the tale goes...
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 11:43 AM UTC
I am the **********
and poetry is my ****
slapping me around with its,
enriched vocabulary,
scarred vowels across my face.
A-E-I-O-U,
i owe you,
1 minute of sinful poetry.
I put a ****** on the mic so I
wouldn't pass off my poetic S.T.D.
infecting the dictionary.
but my grammar was incorrect.
after 9 months-
OOPS!
out comes the alphabet.
and when i gave birth to English,
you took it from me and created tongue twisters,
poetic metaphors that will have you,
speechless.
and I'm back at point one.
I am the **********
and poetry is my ****
scarred vowels across my face.
A-E-I-O-U.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 6:48 PM UTC
don’t worry about decisions anymore.
I can think for you. Here,
buy this brand of tampons.
Watch me now. It’s more absorbent. Here, stick them in your ears. You’ll have
s o f t e r
t h o u g h t s.
Pillowy white fluuuufffyyythoughts.
You don’t need your brain anyway.
no more thinking,
I can think for you.
here, watch me now.
Look at these happy plastic
assless women
wearing delicate bras,
so beautiful.
Why don’t you buy one?
they’re uncomfortable
well you’re ugly,
unwanted,
but you wear what
you
want.
Wear this bra.
Maybe it will keep your heart from aching.
You don’t need your heart; I can feel.
I can feel for you.
So watch me. Hey, look here.
Buy these shoes. They make your legs look like celery stalks, but your husband will “do it” with you again. That’s what you want, right?
right.
Put them on. Please your man, make the food, wear the shoes. Don’t think.
Please your man, feed the kids, do the work. Wear the shoes. Don’t you dare think.
I can
Think For You.
Aptitude is overrated. Your biggest asset is
your body, bereft of a brain. Don’t think. I can think for you.
Wear this. Buy that.
Spend your husband’s money, make him happy.
Please your man,
make the food,
wear the shoes.
Now, for your anxiety,
take these pills.
Three little blue pills, one big orange pill, one little white pill.
This one makes you skinny.
This one makes your teeth white.
This one makes you dumb, this one makes you numb.
Don’t think. Don’t worry about where your husband is.
He’ll probably come home tonight.
There is no divorce on TV, so it must not exist.
Don’t think. Oh, you poor little ****** woman.
Tiny, powerless drone robot. Don’t think.
Robots don’t have brains.
Dolls don’t have brains.
****
***
*******
legs,
don’t have brains.
Close your mouth.
Don’t speak.
I can speak for you.
That bra is uncomfortable?
Shut up.
You want me to wear a ******
Shut up.
You want to be yourself, with the brain, with the ****** with the
******* with the child. You can’t have all and be free. Choose.
Don’t choose. I will choose for you.
Please your man
Make the food
wear the shoes
There will be no discussion.
There will be no negotiation.
There is no **** on TV, so it must not exist.
No thinking
no thoughts
no brain,
just **** *** ***** legs.
wear the shoes, please your man, make the food.
Eat. Sleep. Breathe. Work.
Die.
Recognize the regulations,
recognize your place.
Your /place/ is in the shoes,
those d e v i l traps
eating your sweet feet.
all the time--wear them
They are
comfortable. They are ****
don’t think
don’t cry
don’t moan
whisper
whimper
Shut up. Don’t speak.
I will
speak for you.
Clocks, computers, **** ***
You
Are
Nothing
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 6:02 PM UTC
People out here thinking life ain't worth living
So they take a life.
I guess they find worth in killing
More worth in drug money
More worth in pride
I wonder how many folks died
Shot dead because of a side eye
It don't make you a man because you ride..
For your crew
It don't make you a woman because you lay on your behind ...
For your boo
I don't love the streets but I love the people in them
Locked in a mindset can't find there way out of the system
Forget the street rules!
The G-code!
The hemoglobin soaked street code
I'm not that guy.
Father in law behind bars.
My dad shot yeah he the one that died.
I will only die for Christ's sake
The one that died for me when I was ***** as a used ****** on cracked asphalt.
I owe the streets nothing!
Yet I must to tell them about the blood of Christ.
Understand if your blood covers the streets it does nothing!
Just death ..pain..a open chest.. Mortician's and Funeral Homes
In the streets everybody stiff stuck rigamortis
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 2:56 PM UTC