"crapper" poems
Strange question indeed,
So I asked one and all;
Explain to me:
“What's a plumber's ball?”
Family and friends
Heeded my call,
But none could confine,
Refine or define it,
Yet Paul was sure
He could design it.
Still, none could satisfy
My caterwaul:
“What the hell is a plumber's ball?”
Does it sweat the pipe
Or wiggle the snake:
Can it clamp the ******
For Heaven's sake?
Could it snap on the cock-hole cover?
All these queries
Made me wonder.
Has it something to do
With hardness leakage,
Or ******** the ball-cock
To stop a seepage?
Has it anything to do
With a saddle valve dripping,
Electric eels,
Or two pipes mating?
And, I heard of male and female fittings,
And should I worry
If I'm standing or sitting?
If you're discharging the head
Or elongating the pipe,
Does the plumber's ball
Help it snug tight?
Is it in my tank,
Or in my bowl,
Beneath the floor
Near the drainage hole?
Is the plumber's ball
In the back of the truck
(Jeff laughed and said
One could rub it for luck).
I asked Michel
If he could tell,
He sensed it was something
He could smell.
I sought out Ray,
Perhaps he'd know,
But he was on call
To restrain a back-flow.
I couldn't ask Gary
For his wisdom and sense,
He was wigglin' the snake
To unclog a wet vent.
Henry, Rick, Scotty and Brian,
Gave shameless answers
I couldn't rely on.
It's not a crapper, tail piece
Or Johnnie-bolt,
Or catch basin, reamer,
O-ring or pipe dope.
So I searched the Net
With a fool's wonder,
And read of ball-checks,
Gas ***** and plungers.
I know it's too late
To ask Rolly or Ross,
For both of them knew,
And that's our loss.
And Ernie's gone golfing
So I can't ask the Boss.
With final resolve
I fell to my knees,
To pray St. Ferrer
With grace intercede.
His silence left me
In a state of depression;
Had Ferrer washed his hands
Of the plumbing profession?
So nothing could settle
My wherewithal,
I still didn't know,
What's a plumber's ball?
Suddenly, it hit me,
He's never wrong,
The Dalai Lama of dip-tubes,
I'll ask John.
Where others did falter,
John's a rock:
He knows the difference
Between a gas and ball ****
With a knowing smile
He embraced our Hall:
Here, good friend, is your Plumbers' Ball.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
Five minute street artists
and insomnia mongers.
****** drunk blondes
and finger snapping phat booties.
Street geniuses
bred by Machiavellian philosophies
cypher dreams over tokes
of marijuana smoke.
Color worshipping narcotic traffickers,
and bread winners
parole corners
sporting fitted caps and twisting fingers.
Senile war veterans
beg for change in cardboard boxes
from the American dreams
they afforded.
Hard workers with every ethnicity
molded into each pore of their face,
rub shoulders with tourists at traffic stops
barely escaping tires crushing their feet.
Sartorial geniuses with no pants
switch hips in knock-off stellos heels,
selling the origin of the world on avenues
next to Arab Halal food.
Cooperate ties and blue collars chafe ***** on subways.
nodding in and out of Daily News articles
while oxygen blessed by asparagus ****
pump through their noses.
Summa *** laude number runners dictate economies
From sky-crapper offices,
And powered rain swallows their concrete each winter,
With no apologies.
Jun 2, 2011
Jun 2, 2011 at 11:01 PM UTC
. what?
between MC hammer...
and men at work...
there's a choice?
come on...
you could have given
me an easier question,
like... Debussy
contra Satie...
or, like...
egg yolk or egg white?!
point being...
i'd love to see
christopher lambert
play the role of
raiden in that... mortal kombat
game made into a motion
picture...
you know...
if i owned a PS2...
i'd still be a gamer...
but i never owned a PS2....
or the metal gear solid 2
gaming experience...
not the PS1 experience
fighting ****** mantis*...
you know that hack / cheat...
when you switch controller
slots...
when ****** mantis* is
giving his grandiose speech..
and you switch the controller
ports, so that in in the game
you're not predictable...
final fantasy 7?!
completed it with a walk-through...
sorry... homework...
that being said:
all of Friday night and all of
Saturday morning...
and some Tenchu....
wacky-Jacky...
cow later chow,
enter mein...
choppers chop chop...
these days?
i game...
when i take a ****
i figured... if there are people who
take a book to the crapper...
i'll take a game...
war robots....
you know what's fascinating?
the interactive applicability of
a game...
team-work...
mesmerizing...
the whole gaming
structure drifted from a narrative,
to a congregational dynamism...
solipsism unraveled...
i dig the whole team work,
while taking a ****
love it... 5 stars review...
but am i a gamer...
do i not think that
a.i. is a revamp of Pinocchio?
no...
but metal gear solid?
a ******* solid game
on PS1...
you would be talking to a gamer
if i was allowed to buy
a PS2 console...
oh right...
i read books and listened to music,
and ended up writing anti-routine /
anti-technicality poetry /
anti-rhyme poetics....
my bad;
"we're" calling a revision
of chess in play;
yeah... sorry...
i was never into paragraphs,
with dialogue interludes...
for me...
poems were always above
a structural stature of paragraphs;
something to do with
haiku or... whatever came out of
Godzilla's mouth.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC
This red dot i see is what chaos starts as..
Once chaos has flowed out it becomes infared..
The begininng of a galaxy that i can hold in my hands!
The copper coin was the center of a dance..
Watch abe get up and do the charleston dance..
Put the coin to my ear and hear the music and dance..
Up and away.
Toward and a step back..
Leave my body and come back..
Freaking out i go to the bathroom.
Sit on the crapper and do a loop..
Leave my body and enter back on through the back of my skull im awake!
Rainbow highway to oblivion..
colorless flowers laugh at me..
I pluck them from the ground and say " whos laughing now..
OH MY GOD IT WAS THE SWEET TARTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
I’ve seen a fiend inside me,
who seemed destined to be,
so attentive and aggressive at manipulating,
these doctors and these nurses
whom when they see me,
they lock up all the pills,
and then they swallow the key.
But I moan and I groan to own the script that I seek.
Let insurance pay my habit,
now my checks spent on ****
it might be a life without light,
but to me,
its alright i’m just fine
so stop worrying please.
If I need some help then you know,
you'll hear it from me.
But until then just chill,
while i **** these zanies.
Once I’m gone then I’m gone
and i know that I’m wrong,
coping with prescriptions just to string me along.
Cause addictions a sickness,
and a big ***** to live with.
Your mind plays these games,
and fools you with tricks which,
say it’s okay,
and it starts to convince you,
you cant walk without your crutches,
when life starts to trip you.
And thats when it hits you.
The fact of the matter.
Which gets even sadder.
The higher I was,
the lower the ladder.
The lighter the buzz,
the chase even faster.
Used to smoke bud,
like some just for laughter.
But moved onto drugs,
that sent my life down to crapper.
So i just flushed,
and rushed in a new chapter.
Not saying I’m perfect,
but it works if you work it.
I wouldn't say I’m an addict, just a curious person.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 3:37 AM UTC
A locking click
the clear is hall
a clocking tick
is hear I all
a rocking drop
the near is fall
a blocking chop
I fear the saw
a pampy crapper
I nose my hold
a campy happer
I clothes my fold
a fighty scrapper
that big is bloke
a lighty snapper
I cig my smoke!
©2011 Lyn
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
*(this poem don't matter much
unless you balk with ***** to essay upon,
thyself, thy valentine failures,
children and ex's who have ex'd you out,
sad love songs
one more time,
even joyous ones,
foolishness human,
then this intro source code,
is an unnecessary winter weather advisory)*
a phrase, song~played, scratches,
brain self-commands
via electric synapse
To: the current in-resident body
extrude denude private places
riff,
get to thy work,
decompose on them words:
in the private places
play with the lowly lowest ranking,
private, who by nature, sees
finer the dirtiest,
privy to the privy,
privilege them
to the most personal,
spit/spill/weep/deep
some or none of it all,
cause the scratch is the
poetic salvation to that
bitch~itch, write
the best you get,
dispossess the beastie best
in the pvt. places,
ain't much/no difference
tween beastie and all the crapper rest
draw from the private places,
cast up to light,
revelations devaluations sensations
impolite,
well kept secrets
if you can say it good,
then draw it up from the well
where the private places
were|where sent to drown,
and if you can't,
no bother brother,
after this exculpation excavation,
I'll go back with you
to adding a rock to the
bottom of the pile,
the mountain of superficial crap
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
Sure as heck wouldn't fall
for that "Oh its my favourite
book & I keep it by my bedside
trick" & gather chubby Christian
flunkeys to pray over & anoint
a fascist idiot child,
Would see right through using
a grieving widow as a prop for
a photo-shoot extravaganza,
& then talk of record applause
lines like this was America's
Most Talented & he was a cheap
*** promoter milking the crowd,
Wouldn't for a second fall for
the Syrian children carry an
infection to the nation & must
be denied entry because you
never know but of course we can
because deranged white folks are
more of a threat,
Sure as **** could tell the difference
between a good apostle & that
scheming White Supremacist
Bannon & the bald dude who
endlessly talks of his overlord
being obeyed or **** sure you'll
all be for it,
Would most definitely not need
a golden crapper to rest his fat
white *** on & a golden stroller
for his special one & lacquered
mirrored sitting room that looks
like a hillbilly wet-dream version of
of 'how rich folks dun live rightly,'
Would most definitely not be seen
wearing that stupid red hat which
more than hints at a long gone
world with shades of whiteness
& exclusion & don't come knocking
on my door you pitiful wretch you,
Would never in a million friggin'
years have voted Republican &
sided with a lying, duplicitous
con-man with all the shades of
darkness that usually are reserved
for the actual Fallen Angels.
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
Are you bored?
Do you feel there's no point to the things you do?
Is your life missing an element of excitement?
Fear not, I have just the thing
Put the Awe back in Awesome
Put the back Zing back in Amazing
Put the Fanta back into Fantastic
What? Fanta is great.
Anyway
It's rather simple.
The next time you have to do something you find boring, depressing, or unfulfilling, do it FOR SCIENCE!
Some examples:
I'll be out later, I have to do my English homework...FOR SCIENCE
I'm giving the big presentation tomorrow...FOR SCIENCE
I got into a car accident this morning...FOR SCIENCE
I don't feel so well, I need to use the crapper...FOR SCIENCE. I'll be in there awhile. For Science.
Someone tried to steal my purse, so I stabbed them...FOR SCIENCE
I guarantee that if you use this handy tip, your self esteem will rise, and people will find you exponentially more interesting!
Or they might think you're crazy
They definitely won't think you're boring, though.
So go out there and show the world what you're made of
For Science!
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
the coffee flowed through tales of three lovers,
all dead now, somehow
he managed to squeeze in a live one, number four,
over apple pie with melted cheese
she was still coming around, usually after her AA meetings
helping him fill his apartment with Lucky Strike haze
(only woman he knew who smoked unfiltered ****
he did not know why she watched him drink
maybe he was her 40 days in the desert,
tempting her with the libations
she loved more than her own flesh,
(her son in Waukegan with his sober dad)
maybe he was her test, he didn’t give a **** he said
she was quiet in his bed
often, like a thief in the night,
she would be gone when he woke in the morning
a book or two missing, ones he had read
and filled with notes, some with pages torn out
that lined his walls, even his crapper he said
where he could stand and drain his lizard
read Ezra Pound and Elliot and ask himself
why the **** did those guys use so many words?
when he ate the last crumbs of his pie, he told me
he meant to ask me the same question,
but the answer would be too long,
that I asked questions that did not need answers
I tried to tell him
I felt the same way, but
he fired up another Lucky Strike,
and asked for the check
which I would pay
and I knew, he would hear nothing
I had to say
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
I wonder what this world is coming to
When we have to overcomplicate everything
All I hear on the TV of late
Is ‘bare craic’ as my northern Irish friend would say –
“I can’t understand this credit crunch,” she said
Poignantly, (neither could I) “I think I’ll take
A dander down to the shops.” And so she did
We were out of milk
And living off salami
I picked up the paper
And I realise nothing is without a price
Or a fate
They are the two certainties
So is death
And the price is not so hard to see either.
The American bigwigs sit round a table
Complaining what is to be done about the financial crisis?
Each eating a $16 dollar muffin with their $8.48 coffee
Wondering where oh where can money be saved?
And they’ll get back in their private limos
Drive past their second addresses
Back down to Bel-air
Lock themselves in their villas
Count their bonuses
And sleep happy
After doing jack ****
While Greece is going down the crapper.
I can see the solution
Can you?
Or is it just me?
Or can you see it to?
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
Skimming is like cheating
why bother to pretend?
so you can say you've read the book,
a mad rush to the end?
Best do like me, and start a few
and it's exactly what I do
before I will attack it, read
the back and jacket too.
I start in on the chapter list
and read it 'til I've got the gist,
a nice prologue and introduction
if omitted, sorely missed.
I take the words and read 'em over
what was meant, I try to gleen
and if no message was encoded
just what did the author mean?
I'll do the same on every page
until I understand, or age
and when I'm satisfied
unless I've died, I'll turn the page.
I will continue on that course
unless the author beats his horse
and gives me every reason, just to
end it there without remorse.
but if I'm thoroughly engaged
and my boredom not enraged
I must admit I've skimmed a chapter
in the crapper for the aged.
and if I make it to the chase
which has rarely been the case
I will mark it, and then park it
to allow it proper place.
The End
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
He'd already
slit his wrists
and tried
to hang himself
in the crapper
from the water
pipe system
and now they kept him
in the locked ward
sans belt or laces
and kept him
in sight
of at least
one nurse's sharp eyes
but still he managed
to liberate laces
from some old guy's shoes
while he slept
and had just about
tied one end
of the tied laces
to the pipes
when a nurse
seeing him
through the curtains
raised the alarm
and banged
on the door
and raised
merry hell
but he just set about
his slow task
attempting to put
the narrow noose
about his head
when some big
male nurse
(ape build)
banged open
the door
and pulled him down
sans the laces
and pinned him
to the floor
Benedict smelt
body odour
and cheap aftershave
and still
the ape nurse
held him down
there was that
Beatles' song
on the radio
on the locked ward
HELP
I need somebody
the nurse joined in
the chorus line
Benedict caught sight
unwittingly
of the female nurse's
pale pink *******
as she moved
on over to help
and her perfume
was better
and has she
pressed down
nearer
to give aid
he closed his eyes
gentlemanly
so as not to view
the cleavage
coming his way
can’t have
too much excitement
(he mused darkly)
in one suicide
attempting day.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
winter loneliness
wise men know
is only right
that gray will stack upon gray,
that brown will fringe brown,
that lust's fire be dormant
is only right
that all things should cycle
that tender green will shoot
from hollow promise,
wise men know
is only right
that hibernia is but a season,
that low light's grip need not hold,
that there is an end
wise men know.
that dogs bark in advance of posted mems
that seed, seeded to glossy paper,
that will be read on china thrones
it is only right
that rows and rows first be planted
in dream gardens upon the vernal gardener's crapper.
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 12:56 PM UTC
When Christine heard
that he'd tried
to hang himself
in the men's crapper
desperation bells
began to ring
inside her head
then she saw him
on the locked ward
sans laces
or belts
or anything
he may use
to repeat
the performance
and he sat
in the big chair
his eyes dull
and his hair untidy
and with that loose hanging
dressing gown
minus belt
and in pyjamas
like some
Auschwitz guy
and she said
what the ****
you in here for?
sitting in the armchair
next to him
broken heart
broken love
lost love
soul crashing
through all gears
to get back
to base
who knows?
he said
like that huh?
join the club
for what it's worth
we're all ****** up here
like driftwood
on a lonely beach
on some deserted island
she said
he gazed at her
disinterestedly
as if a gnat
had landed
on his hand
they lock
the doors here?
sure do
all the time
what about visitors?
once a week
Sundays
he looked at her
at her dark
long straggly hair
her dull eyes
why you here?
he said
some ****
left me
at the altar
all dressed up
like some nun
in white
she said
he must have been
mad to have left you
anywhere
he said
well he must be
because he did
opposite
an Indian woman
sat crossed legged
picking
at her toes
a red spot
on her forehead
dressed
in long gowns
of bright colours
a plump woman
walked by smoking
eyeing them
suspiciously
foul mouthing
the nurse going by
so how long
you been here?
he asked
week or so
how long you staying?
until they say
I can leave
when will that be?
when they think
I’m better
or cured
or able to be
balanced again
when will that be?
how the ****
do I know
she said
sorry
about the language
anger gets
to my tongue
before I do
you're not going
to hang yourself
again are you?
she asked
don't know
who I am any more
don't know jackshit
about myself
whoever myself is
she nodded
looked at his
handed in slippers
the scar
on his left wrist
not your first time then?
she said
touching the scar
guess not
he said
welcome to Purgatory
she said
he sensed her finger
on his scar
the female touch
he wanted something
whatever it was
something
to hold on to
O
so very much.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
call me MCDJpjs
one you can look too these days
keep ya kids out the muthafukkin freeways
see a roof and I give that ***** a raise
see I’m not
a traditional rapper
ima ex-trapper
spend too much time on the crapper
wannbe flapper
but not with birds wings
I wanna go dancing
in a 20’s gin ring
drunk with a tommy gun
come and get ya some
I might come undone
I’m just havin fun
see I like to smoke ****
grow it out with no seeds
give it away freely
destroy the system completely
**** capitalism its
causing a schism and
how you livin cause
I was born for given
natural social-ist
creating my own religion
******* wanna front like pigeons
actin like they grantin wishes
still sharing, but not an Osborn
I’m the new norm
At least in Ore-gon
Call me MCDJpjs
call me MCDJpjs
one you can look too these days
keep ya kids out the muthafukkin freeways
see a roof and I give that ***** a raise
Homeboy I tell the truth
to today’s youth
like a real sooth
let me show you proof
see I don’t pull punches
about GMO lunches
and throwin punches
putting fools in the crunches
slammin cell doors at my 9 to 5
watchin young lives
be hypnotized
by the flawed system
one that lets them
keep coming back to prison
instead of giving them a vision
of success and grace
as part of the race
that we all belong
ya’ll sing my song!
Call me MCDJpjs
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
Okay, skimming is like cheating
and why bother to pretend?
so you can say you've read the book,
a mad rush to the end!
Best to start a few
and this, exactly what I do
if you can hack it, don't attack it
read the back and jacket too.
I start in on the chapter list
and read it 'til I've got the gist,
a nice prologue and introduction
if omitted, sorely missed.
I take the words and read 'em over
what was meant I try to gleen
and if no message is encoded
then what did the author mean?
I'll do the same on every page
until I understand, or age
and when I'm satisfied
unless I've died, I'll go and turn the page.
I will continue on that course
unless the author beats his horse
and gives me every reason just to
end it there without remorse.
but if I'm thoroughly engaged
and my boredom not enraged
I must admit I've skimmed a chapter
in the crapper for the aged.
and if I make it to the chase
which has rarely been the case
I will mark it, and then park it
to allow it proper place.
The End
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
Jeanette sits
in the class
music's played
Beethoven
sonata
Miss Graham
the teacher
at a grand
piano
thin wire framed
spectacles
her grey hair
in a bun
aged fingers
touching keys
many kids
in the class
sit bemused
others bored
out of brains
smile or smirk
but to her
sitting there
beside blonde
Angela
is transfixed
a new world
opens up
pretty much
like that kiss
stolen quick
by that boy
Benedict
on the field
after lunch
as she sat
all alone
Angela
had gone to
the crapper
(the wrong week
to sort out)
no reasons
were given
just that kiss
on her cheek
soft and damp
then he'd gone
leaving her
as one stung
by a bee
and she watched
as he went
towards school
and she sat
between worlds
old and new
balancing
her hormones
steering clear
of all those
dangerous
hidden rocks
Jeanette moves
to music
around her
her fingers
on the desk
like keyboard
pushing thoughts
of the kiss
from her mind
closing eyes
matching up
Benedict
inwardly
with passion
like one blind.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
Ole used to like
the He-Man
TV cartoon series
and would enact
the main character
about the house
and stairs
and sofa
with a toy sword
tucked in the back
of his shirt
then one day
I took him
to the cinema
to see
the big screen
film version
of He-Man
with loud
booming voices
and music
and the bad guys
looking gruesome
and so on
and he began to say
he needed the crapper
and so off we went
outside and along
to the men's crapper
then back again
and sat down
to watch the film
then after a while
he would say
he wanted
the crapper again
and so off we went
and back again
and so after
the fourth visit
I said
do you want
to go home?
he nodded
in his own unique way
and off we went home
him silent
and me wondering
and knowing
that he'd been scared
but not wanting
to admit to it
he feigned the need
for the crapper
not knowing I knew
but I kept
his street cred
and smiled
down at him
and never said.
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 3:34 AM UTC
Joseph Bazalgette knew
about things people did,
like pooh
and to that very end
he built the great sewer
which apart from moving the pooh also
alleviated London from the stink
of the rich as well as the poor.
On the engineers seat
in the House on Greek street
he drew up his plans to
do away with bed pans as he
laboured alone in the night.
Thomas Crapper came to fame and
hardly because of his laughable name,
but his name became his fortune
and in the music halls of London town
people were soon to put a penny down
to spend a penny in the lavvy,
a savvy lad was Tom.
And they made old Joe a knight
for
funneling waste out of Londoner's sight,
they even had street lights that ran on
the gas
that floated down tunnels through
which the
waste had to pass
on its way to the sea.
It was a jolly good show
and a spiffing great plan
carried out quite imaginatively,
I can imagine the man
and his men way back then were
flushed to be
a part of
London's
lavatory
story.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 7:06 AM UTC
Of course it’s a Muslim Ban when Muslim
countries are affected & 1.5 billion folks
perceive it to be so, & you'd recently called
Giulani to ask "Muslim Ban, how can I do it?"
& of course it’s mocking the disabled
when you pull your arms to your waist
& wave your wrists & use a shaky
trembling voice while looking skyward,
& of course when you talked about the “Second
Amendment People” taking out Hillary Clinton
if she won you were talking an assassination
threat, the words are there aren’t they,
& of course it was unforgivable & beyond,
just beyond the pale where you tried to
deflect the criticism of the grieving Khan
family by insulting the silent mother from
your glorious podium,
& of course when you quipped “It’s freezing
& snowing in New York, we need global warming”
you were laying bare the intellectual wasteland
that is your mind & the threadbare grasp on vital
realities that is your worldview,
& of course when you talked of “fairly credible
sources” telling you of "Obama’s birth certificate
being a fraud" you were simply making **** up
in your fraudulent salesman mode but this time
were in way too deep by promoting this vicious
ethically void racist ********
& of course when you said “you can never be too
greedy” you mean it with your gold crapper in
your gold bathroom, & your gold stroller, for your
golden progeny, & your huge this, & so big that,
& of course when you said of 9/11 that in Jersey
“thousands of people were cheering” you were
lying your *** off & appealing to the basest
elements of human nature of anger, revenge
& blame,
& of course when you declined to condemn David
Duke & the KKK you knew exactly what you were doing
as you put forth the trembling hand of friendship to American
White Supremacists so’s you'd let them know you were one
of them & they could count on you & please vote for me, you
were planting that evil & sordid flag weren’t you,
& of course you are unfit to govern, lack a basic intelligence,
decency, spirituality, a grasp of fundamental principles of right
& wrong, & are a con-man, a spiv, a snake-oil salesman, all
these … of course you are … & we’re stuck with you.
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
If i play my part in time I think I'll make it out the hood.
I shouldn't off my cousin now
But then again I prolly should
Because a pound is on the line and i ain't got too much a time
My mama future on the line
So im resorted 2 the crime
Naw+
Let him breathe
Let him take in all the air
Im like a lion in a cage and u can c it in my stare
Im feeling troubled n deranged n u can c it if u stare
She tryna stay inside my heart n till this day she's never there
Ugh+
Time money n madness
Im fulla sadness
My family believe in magic
And honestly it is tragic
My pockets can b the fattest
My mistress can b the baddest
They tell me 2 show them love but really I never had it
Yeah +
Dead bodies n bullets is all im after
Yo crying fueling my laughter
They murdered him on the crapper
N really all that I wanted was solace n mild seclusion The thought merely illusion
A happy ending is stupid
Wah +
Do u love me thru the blood n the tears
Would u sacrifice yoself if I had sharpened the shears
Love is fairly new 2 me cuz ive been suffering 4 years
I don't want u 2 respond will u just lend me yo ears
Cuz angels won't come if u drowning in the sea
Im the only one who loves u.
Im yo personal disease
Im the voice inside yo head
Fill void inside of me
U ain't in the coffin wit me how im pose 2 rest in peace
Hmm+
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 12:13 PM UTC
The Dalai Lama may not approve
with my pinching the Pure Diamond
phrase which is of course usually
in reference to some Buddhist moment
of utter clarity & profound insight,
but that's as close as I can get in reference
to Our Illustrious Leader and his need to sit
on a golden crapper in his opulent & dazzling
suite overlooking Manhattan & oh so high in
the blue, blue sky,
because when I hear of Meals on Wheels cuts
& After School Program loss in West Virginia
& the myriad other ways counters have
found to save a few bucks at the same time
as they reduce taxes on the very rich,
the fact that he does sit on a golden crapper
becomes perhaps a lightning rod for all that
is wrong with Republican ideology & its talk
of cost effect & proven results in regard to
a simple feeding of a hungry person,
its not rocket science or flying to the moon
its a simple social program that helps older
folks & small children get through the day
& a government that talks of building a billion
dollar wall, building more planes & warships
led by a man who desires a golden crapper,
just plain fills me with a Pure Diamond Loathing.
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 7:09 PM UTC
Meals on Wheels feeds needy
old folks & house-bounds,
its not some sort of luxury blue-apron
celebrity-chef at your door in minutes
creme-de-brule & lobster fricasee,
its basic nutritious food that many needy
folks depend on to help them get through
each day,
but Trump & his Republicans have decided this
is, what, a luxury that promotes dependency,
an unnecessary largesse on the part of a near
socialist dictatorship,
that bringing food to the needy is just way, way
too beyond the financial abilities of the mighty
U.S of A,
but of course there's a billion dollar wall to be built
to hold back brown people,
there's more tanks, bigger ships, fancier airplanes,
oh & what ... Mar-A-Lago golf trips to pay for,
& security for every Trump spawn out there
rock & rollin' their way around the world making
money & just a makin' more money,
& once more I say unto you,
the fact this man feels the need to ****
in a golden crapper fills me with such a
sincere & deep loathing that at times I can
barely sleep.
Feed the Needy!
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 11:55 PM UTC
Let's do the Lindy
Everybody do the Lindy
Let's let the men in red
Roll on in from China
Let's do the Lindy
Everybody do the Lindy
Every small-c ******
Living in the USA
It's hard to believe
That we all let this happen
How can we stand by and see
Our country flushed down the crapper
Hey Everybody
Let's do the Lindy
The government controls us
All hail the ****** way
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC