"contraception" poems
People explosion,
Over population,
Dark on the sun,
How big is too big?
Is it too many figs?
What's your solution
to people explosion?
They bring pollutions,
Over population,
Dark on the sun,
Maybe free contraception,
Some new invention?
Chemical free solutions
to people explosions,
Over population,
Dark on the sun.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
You hold the hair dryer in your hand
Blowing hot air right at your man
Looks so nice right after the cut
Talking about *** gives them enough
Your stories keep them on the edge
What you do behind his back
How your needs aren’t met
Glad you use contraception
Underneath the veil of deception
What happened to make you this way
Thinking that cheating is ok
Betraying all your lovers trust
All your love turns to rust
Flip em over, do it again
Theres always something
That’s wrong with the men
So shallow to look inside
Find out where your fear hides
You don’t need a good reputation
Underneath the veil of deception
Someday soon you will see
That things don’t work dishonestly
Try to see from the other side
If you were deceived could you abide?
Karma isn’t a new ideal
See you one day when you are real
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
What if I were president? What party, what values would I hold?
If I were president would I be humble, honest, and bold?
When I talk about greater justice for immigrants, I'm a Democrat.
When I speak out against abortion, I'm a Republican.
When I talk about racism and racial inequality, I'm a Democrat.
When I mention small, localized government, I'm a Republican.
When I support the common good and solidarity, I'm a Democrat
When I say the family should be strengthened, I'm a Republican.
When I speak up against the death penalty, I'm a Democrat.
When I refuse to fund contraception, I'm a Republican.
So, where does this leave me? You have to pick right?
Well in some ways I'm both, and in some ways neither.
You see, if I pick Democrat I'm going against my Republican values
And the same is true of my Democrat values if i decide Republican.
If I were the president I'd work for peace, love, truth, understanding
I would work to build bridges between the peoples and the nations
Walls and fences do not, the best neighbors, make.
I won't convince you with anything I say, but if I do my best to live and
To reflect love, to give hope, to find joy maybe you'll want it too
To lift up the lowly, help others help themselves, to forgive and to love
That's some of what I hope to do.
In truth, I'm a member of an institution that teaches that freedom is when a person no longer acts under the influence of someone else. An institution that encourages free will and free thought. An institution that doesn't fit inside a man-made box.
This is being true to myself, this is who I am.
I'm Catholic
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 11:30 AM UTC
Confliction,
Deception,
Introspection,
Retrospection,
Contraception,
Reflection,
Who art thou?
Who am I?
Who are you?
Bicurious,
Heterosexual,
Bisexual,
***********
Demisexual,
Asexual,
Homosexual,
Alone,
Joined,
Separated,
Unison,
Loneliness,
Together,
Rambling,
Scrambling,
Galloping,
Struggling,
Basking,
Scattered,
Are My Thoughts.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
In the days when dry ******* was as far as it went
I just fancied you more.
Strange I should think of this, after the one positive stick
in an ammonia scented carrier bag of negatives, or not.
Like a car salesman in a too often dry cleaned suit,
I enticed you with lurid banners offering years of hetro milage.
"££££££££££££££s of savings, no contraception needed,
this one wants a bun in it's **** loving oven",
and as I ***** down my eyes at the sound of rustling sheets,
signifying an imagined eroticism,
a rub down with an ******** my friends would squeal for,
I'm wishing you were a chick with a strap on.
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 11:43 PM UTC
In fifth grade
They shuttle boys and girls
Into separate rooms.
This is when they try (and fail)
To teach you
About ***
Without teaching you
About having ***
After four years of
Abstinence based courses
Featuring cis straight people
And only
Cis straight people
I learned nothing
About how cis straight people
Have ***
After four years of
Shady diagrams of vaginas
That look 0% like vaginas
And do not mention anything
About the ********
I learned nothing
About what's actually between
My legs
After four years of
Hearing the words
"STDs"
"Pregnancy"
I learned nothing
About contraception.
After four more years of
Having the same
********
Spat at me
I will not learn anything
Because the words
"Don't have ***
Don't teach me anything.
And being able to say
That every honest thing
That I learned about ***
I learned from ****
Isn't something
I'm proud of.
In real life
They shuttle boys and girls
Into the same room
And tell you to procreate
After a decade of being told
That *** is bad.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
I'll write a letter
To those who matter
Because, though I won't be there to see
I want to imagine the faces of those
Who I'm not writing to.
I'll write a note to him because he still intrigues me
It'll be a cowardly note that says everything I couldn't
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins,
I'll pray he didn't care for me
I'll pray it doesn't hurt him
Because he doesn't deserve it.
I'll write a note to her because she's his
And he's hers and that still hurts me somedays
And because I love her like I love him:
In a million, million ways.
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
I'll pray she's enough to get him to stay
I'll pray she doesn't care so she'll be okay.
I'll write a note to her because she birthed me
And I'll explain the importance of contraception
And I'll tell her I don't blame her and give absolution
And then take it back in the next sentence.
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
I'll pray she hurts until she can barely breath
In the same breath, I'll pray she forgets me
And uses the rest of her life to be as free as she wanted to be.
I'll write a note to him because he's my sister
And I'll explain the way I hate him and do hate him
And I'll explain the way I never stopped feeling the rage
Of every single wrong he did me over the years
And then I'll forgive him because he doesn't need me to
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
That he'll understand the simplicity and importance of tact
I'll pray that he gets everything he wants in life
I'll pray he understands why I couldn't wish that
While there was still air in my lungs.
I'll write a note to him because I hate him and I love him
And it'll explain the way child abuse lingers for years
And it'll say how much I wanted to see his grave before my own
And it'll say how I never wanted to see anyone live forever besides him
And it'll explain how he hurt me by withholding unconditional love
It will explain how little I cared after the first decade crept by
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
And I'll turn over to pray
I'll pray he gets what he's due
I'll pray he finally dies
I'll pray he gets some happiness
And I'll do it all in one word: Why?
Those are the notes I'd write.
No one else I'd explain to.
Those are the people who've impacted my life.
If I keep death bare and simple.
I'm not crying this time.
I'm not just on the brink, about to go
I'll think, just as I always do
But there's no indecision anymore.
This is not a place I want to be
Not a life I want to live
But I still have a single ambition
I've still got one last wish.
So I'll do it.
I can be my own shooting star.
I'll get that last dream done
And open a vein? Or step in front of a car?
When I'm done with that I'll write a will
Containing three items:
Burn all my stories and poetry, delete my existence
Cremate my body, funerals are too expensive.
Be honest in my death, express your abhorrence.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
follow me.
please. i have no friends.
i work go home and get tense.
please. talk to me.
i have no chance at survival
this downward spiral
under wave that's tidal
there's gotta be another way that's viral
just rhyme on stage and become an idol.
follow me. follow me.
i promise light and night
and flames and ice
and whatever you need to keep the harrowing shrieks at bay
[little do they know it's he who press play]
controversial contraception
better cover your mouth if ya get to guessing
what's coming next - never gonna happen
- even I can't do it.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
∅ ✿ ⚤
Abortion
as a form
of extreme contraception
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 7:55 AM UTC
The trolls don't like the orcs
the orcs don't like the elves
the elves don't like the goblins
the goblins, don't like themselves
Fairies can be such snobs
on this, each and all agree
whether alone, or in mobs
each, proud of pedigree
The singular exception
and it makes sense to me
a need of complete contraception
eradicating, the goblin family tree
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
The eye was hurt plenty of times before.
In a hollow filled with nice things,
they overflowed, no one was a baby to a right hand.
In the other hand, field of moms trying so desperately to avoid babies,
moms setting all toilets and fingers as contraception,
moms anxious about boys and suspicious about girls.
Boys apparently had those pregnancy machines and girls were the neutral side,
boys just had to plant smarty seed to see what number would show in girls' innocent tummy.
Boys grow as engineers and the engines often roar like crazy,
though it is now different from what I was taught about girls.
-----------
-----------
Skin was just some other walls,
but, really, skin is marshmallow
even the softest tongue can destroy.
You know, tummy
isn't that really innocent either.
Tummy was a determined sister in a dim church,
tummy was mother mary and holy spirit,
tummy was not an apetite for what wasn't in the tabernacle.
Tummy now has cracked her shell, so I see inside,
apparently tummy has some other things beside a fertile empty land.
The gases and the blood are in different tunnels, though
there is something else about miss tummy womb.
She isn't at all neutral, she isn't at all an item of the season.
She softens every time it rains, she makes
her own weather in her own territory.
I now know, neutral was only the word stuck between scared parents' teeth,
neutral was only the gift we didn't know was a troll,
neutral was only a paradox in the most destructive way possible.
-----------
-----------
Careful with essentially hurtful words, we
sweat, with perfect heat,
as the skins melt into one giant chewy lump.
What I didn't know about skin was
that girls had skin too,
girls just were not in their element back then;
I think girls with metallic things were sinners just a little bit too checkmate,
I think girls were housewives just a little bit too godlike.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
reconnected images
toes in rich soil
toiling under the yoke
spatially
fleeting fancy of freedom
fades
pages turn
returning me to the ground
I roamed as a child –
forgotten foothills
beacon
as property brokering
binds me to the earth
monetarily
owning my homeland
by the acreage –
white privilege escapist
seeking grid-less domain
sustainability with a suntan
in the cool Oregon rain
draining the infrastructure
through government backed loans
forever indebted
as the backs of my fellow countrymen
are buying my dream in America –
wrecked inspectors trek Tibet
for the almighty dolla dolla bill ya’ll
signing off on trash
commission driven misgivings
serving up dry rot and mold spots
on a flooded lot
I shield myself against the tide of ********
seeking information
in the age
namesake
heartbroken realtors
dot the horizon
holding contractual obligation
waving it frantically
begging –
seeking perfection
sneaking suspect-tion
any direction
needing contraception
fleeting misconception
leading to direct loans
hearing the same groans
as she is reading the next home
listing……..
throwing fists into the air
I swear
if I didn’t care so much
to handle the deed
I would rent
for
life –
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
These are my modern English translations of ancient Greek poems and epigrams by Sophocles, including antinatalist poems and epigrams.
It’s a hundred times better not be born;
but if we cannot avoid the light,
the path of least harm is swiftly to return
to death’s eternal night!
Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), Oedipus at Colonus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Not to have been born is best,
and blessed
beyond the ability of words to express.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Never to be born may be the biggest boon of all.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oblivion: What a boon, to lie unbound by pain!
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How happy the soul who speeds back to the Source,
but crowned with peace is the one who never came.
—a Sophoclean antinatalist passage from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The happiest life is one empty of thought.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Consider no man happy till he lies dead, free of pain at last.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What is worse than death? When death is desired but denied.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When a man endures nothing but endless miseries, what's the use of hanging on day after day, edging closer and closer toward death? Anyone who warms his heart with the false glow of flickering hope is a wretch! The noble man should live with honor and die with honor. That's all that can be said.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Children anchor their mothers to life.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How terrible, to see the truth when the truth brings only pain to the seer!
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wisdom outweighs all the world's wealth.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fortune never favors the faint-hearted.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wait for evening to appreciate the day's splendor.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
We need evening to appreciate the day's attractions.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Evening helps us appreciate the day's attractions.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Since time dawned
only the dead have experienced peace;
life is snow burning in the sun.
—Nandai, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords/Tags: Sophocles, Greek, translation, translations, English, antinatalist, antinatalism, procreation, contraception, contraceptive, birth, born, death, life and death, day, eve, evening, night, fortune, wisdom, wealth, truth, pain, mother, mothers, mother and child, children
#antinatalist #antinatalism #Sophocles
Jun 8, 2023
Jun 8, 2023 at 7:19 AM UTC
today i learned that a friend of mine
was nearly tickled by death
in a terrorist excavation of bones
in Brussels, with jean-claude van damme
included in the action sequence -
although without stunt artists, by god,
that's the second girl on my list of near
encounters with death and a permanence of tombstones;
i took four beers for a walk
trying to gather dogs' tears along the way...
if she was only worth blowing myself up i would,
she wasn't - because, i mean,
is this a 72-get-together asking about circumcision
and contraception, and is the niqab an over-sized ******
in the supermarket jokes,
me with my long hair tied into
a samurai's bun of a seashell, she with her
hijab... i didn't get the joke either...
i said i wrote poetry for friends,
and yes, i've become a so-called milk carton
at the supermarket - the expected, shelved -
first they asked for my name, then what i did,
matthew, poet...
well you've got the cheapest bottles of whiskey
around here, of course i'll testify
to a religiosity of having to repeat purchase... d'uh!
still, jean-claude van damme and those
four cans of beer... the dogs salivated more
than wept: so i collected saliva rather than salt drops,
of what could have suckled dry a field
readied for a harvesting of potatoes.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 6:18 PM UTC
when I was 14 I was force fed contraception and never got a taste of an apology
when I was 14 the phrase "I'm not ready" wasn't a clear enough interpretation of "no"
so instead of presenting my case in front of a judge, I presented my virginity in front of a 17 year old boy.
when I was 14 I didn't know I was being ***** until a week and a half later when it happened again.
and even through my broken sobs and nightmares, my own father didn't believe me for over a year.
when I was 15, I was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder because the distinction between love and tear stained pillow cases was nearly non existent.
when I was 15, I made the decision to drown the flashbacks in a sea of painkillers, and in what followed I met thirteen other beautiful girls who shared the same story I did.
when I was 16 I realized something had to be done.
for two years I hid a badge labeled 'rape victim' under long sleeves and red eyes because I was too ashamed of what I let happened to myself to get help.
I was told I made a false accusation, when in reality the only fallacy is in our justice system.
**** is not always a white t shirt with specks of blood in the back of an alley or a drunk uncle with a wandering eye. **** is not always screaming at the top of your lungs and fighting for your life with a knife to the neck. it is not always textbook, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be taken seriously.
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
“Love: an emotion, one that, so low as to bar
From fair desire—self-righteous and self-serving
Excuse, a pretense, lyric, will not inspire.”
I detest to hear him speak—
Adulterer, why, pray tell, do you prey upon the weak?
“Simple in answer, as simple in method. No heart
Rich needs to beat for “that” emotion obsoletes.
Adults, mature, do not even think the distinction
That is kid’s table morality, what mommy
Only says after a few drinks, winking, your father
In his eyes—just where you have come, in fact—
You needn’t think mommy and daddy stayed together
After long spats, strife, and frustration for their waves
Struck the same height or the moon hits mom just right.
It is not the eternal enthrallment of Eros that keeps them in motion
Dear, friend—it is “that” emotion. In bed, hearts
Are inverted and split down the middle
The negative just drowns away in chemicals.
But how bad we’d feel, (no?) if that, the long and short?
Machinate the “thing” justify “that” feeling
Ennobling, beatifying, kindling for sonnets and odes
Fashioning morality and aesthetics onto sweating
Thrusting beasts, one on one in their dance of love.
A harlequin of truth, my friend! When it is found
In contraception, safeguarding our natural predilection.
Ha! Oh, fools! Why trouble with the rituals
When, really, ****** collocations concern capricious
Chronologies and covetous craving for **** and ****
How ****** How crude! But, oh, but oh how true; think:
Admit the urge has primacy, the “L” emerges and
Lies emitted: of connection, intelligence, intersubjectivity.
Given its stage of farce and face, our sieves are at
Ageful capacity and then needs a bargain, more;
The office of “thing” goes unoccupied, its twin
Will gladly keep it clean and orderly, act
As it did: gentle and cordially.”
Blast it! Such ways in truth and walk, for
Repetition in faith of life
Pegs my myths with all their strife,
Strife and succor irony.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
She has no qualms with the status quo.
She wants little more than a family.
The white picket fence,
the red painted door;
that whole idyllic suburban fantasy.
Just that, and nothing else.
She feels it's all she needs to be Happy.
A cozy pleasant house,
and a perfect little family.
She wastes no time on iconoclasts.
She thinks they're silly and make her laugh.
Never been one to be impressed by taste.
She'd rather have a humble man
with an honest face.
The doctors said the chances were slim,
"but stranger things have happened still . . ."
Not a candidate for contraception.
She'll never have to go on The Pill.
Her standards have changed in light of the news:
Nevermind prince charming; wit, grit, or being wooed.
She's got her dream and intends to follow through.
She's just chasing a miracle.
All those men caught up in the latest health trends;
"That's your best bet," he says -
that's what her doctor recommends.
She swallows her pride and takes them for a ride,
all the time hoping for a godsend.
Prince Charming is the last thing she needs.
Any chance at true romance is something she could do without.
She's just looking for potency,
and a very high ***** count.
She's okay with ending up as a divorcee,
a single mother - even a widow.
She's willing to go through whatever it takes.
She's still holding out for her miracle.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 5:14 AM UTC
Yes, my lady
That shadow is gone
The slipping silhouette
Real light shines through
Radiating the truth
I **** my head away
My eyes shrink
And belly aches
I held it in
Released it yesterday
Time not defined
For it is nothing
Yes, I do
You aren’t worth my tears
My biggest fears
You cover your self in ***** truth
Deception
Contraception
I speak your language well
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
My monsters mate then they duplicate
I offer contraception; but it's too late.
They wish to reproduce, I only wish they'd reduce,
and it would be truly perfection if we could call a truce.
And my demons dance, what a sweet romance,
I turn off the music but they move to chants.
They wish to cause a stir, but I would prefer
if they wouldn't abuse it; it's meant to deter.
Play a song and put on a show,
they wish to belong but I want them to go.
There's no escape, there's no debating
that they're in great shape and the monsters are mating.
My monsters mate after their date,
I provide protection but they won't take the bait.
They crave sweet intimacy, just like me,
but the affection is laced with toxicity.
And my demons dance almost in a trance,
now I'm going deaf from my own rants.
They wish to cause a scene and I'm not too keen,
turn right cause on the left the grass could always be more green.
They sway to a loving bloom,
and they're banging hard in my head.
So I tell them to just get a room
and they say I should go to bed.
Play a song and put on a show,
their love might be wrong but atleast it creates a glow.
There's no end in sight and my nerves are grating,
day always turns to night and the monsters are mating.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
As a child, it was not I, but my mother
Who loved mud
Every morning of my adolescence
I observed my mother in her rituals
She kept a special red tin
Full of her desired delicacy
She would toss the tin cap aside
Eyes weary and hands slow
She would scoop a few cups into a machine
Without thought, or hesitation
She would fill up the mud *** with water
Glancing toward the pre-measured dashes
And pour it into the contraception
As she closed the top she would often say
"Good morning son, how did you sleep?"
My reply was always the same, "good"
Not in disrespect, but because served me to be short
Plus I had further examinations
A few minutes would pass and the mud
Would be begin to boil
And drip into the largest compartment
Once it's bubbling and popping subsided
She would find a ceramic cup
Pouring it herself up to the brim
Hovering over its steam
Clasping the dish close to her
When she was done and I was feeling daring
I'd sneak to her dismissed glassware
Wipe my finger against the bottom
Stick it in my mouth
Without fail my face would pucker
And my mother, as if to add to the dream
Would say something like
"You should have added sugar and cream"
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC
A tiny pill, less than fingernail-size
Washed down with water each day.
You’d think nothing of it.
It’s just like clockwork.
It does its job.
You marvel at science
And you marvel at being a woman
Just how does your body do it?
You wonder each day.
Now there is less blood
But more bleeding
Less pain
But more suffering
As the months pass you start to realise something.
You’d rather tear out your own hair
Than tear out your own ******
You’d rather be drenched with blood
Than drenched with sadness and anger
Once a month you wish you were dead.
The pill laughs.
Once a month you cry yourself to sleep
Just because somebody looked at you funny.
This tiny tiny thing
Smaller than your fingernail
May be making it easier to be a woman
But it’s making it harder to be you.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
subtracting voices
chandeliers hung by dead feathers
cannon ***** of years when time hated fairly
left over promises i'm not friends with
getting lept out
hanging death
to find a friend
running away
marrying the wash out
battling for empty
filling up the old crimes
inside my healing head
to destroy their evidence
useless when its good
too ugly for views
prisons too important
for me, the left overs
i was the addiction
now another contraception
hailing ghosts
tangled in timecards
under hung
and still voting
to take my spots
Jun 10, 2025
Jun 10, 2025 at 1:13 PM UTC
well, because bunnies don't come out eggs, do they now? that bunny is a thief! where did you get those eggs from? huh? he's running, a flock of angry birds flying after him; and i forgot my slingshot to smash those three piggies into smithereens (like in the folklore story: house of glass (hay), house of wood, house of stone).
i never understood the tradition
of easter,
until now,
i get all the sweets and treats
and opulence at christmas...
but the way easter is celebrated
is quiet fascinating,
chocolate eggs of a castrato,
and the easter bunny must reflect
the size of irish families
and strict laws prohibiting contraception,
listening to bbc 4 and this actress spoke
of being 7th in the lineage of 11...
eager bunnies all around
and sweet choc testicles of a castrato...
well, so i decided to celebrate it too...
fasting... and walking around
saying the word: barabbas...
barabbas... it goes really well with all
those gothic cathedrals adorned
with gargoyles.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
Oh my god!
and the dimples while acknowledging
the absurdity of whiteness
right away I say I am mixed race
I interrupt as often as possible
therefore at an unexpected occurrence
the questioning
the inquisition lay before me
mixing unwell with my previous unaltered trauma
letting loose and being unacceptable
in that hole again
digging out of race
trudging through the social construction
thereof
The last thing I want in between us
actually I want nothing between us
not contraception
I want to be making heat
touching
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 9:23 PM UTC
*no, she isn't the desired conquest... but the institutions of her forefathers are - for mere proof of failure; or at least that's what i minded, given the facts of her promiscuity and all the brown-nosing that went with it - you almost thought of **** *** but instead received oral-anal *** dynamics like a dog and a ***** man and a blotch of de-colouring... man did that, ensured the world was de-coloured with encoding sounds, and left all the colours intact, instantly deciphered and parallel... so that no twin be matched apart... man said one thing, the world said another... not even fame could grapple with the world's interpretation of it... no fame outside the 1 square mile; hope not for fame, but hope for myth - a logic attached will assure you a status god-worthy - thus claimed by others preceding you as demigods.*
her boom boom bara boom... something fire,
something ***** dough...
something her boom boom baritone
um ah... um ah... oh... ****** wasn't intoned for...
export all the smithies to china and import all
the porn-stars here... so we can be jealous
of a one child policy, as actually having one...
i knew of contraception on the reproductive organs...
i never knew it could be applied to the mental organs
that the brain fetters over abstracting kidney
and the narrative of urinating like
the Hoover dam of prostate... hangman mm...
the oesophagus, the stomach and intestines
and the **** with taking a ****
the lungs with breathing... never occurred to me,
but then the brain has two eyes to
deal with ensuring 2 make 1 or 3;
what a gimmick for dating expectations;
i was reduced to wearing two
condoms, the other on my head to ensure
political coercion rather than correctness,
correctness for the slaves, coercion for
the masters... but still... rubber on my ******* head?
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 6:37 PM UTC