"crite" poems - Hello Poetry

hows your love life are you somebodys exwife do you lie fat and cry blame him and not try does the single life taste bad try another old picture want ad you say your fat but youre fixxing it but you still want a man that is bank and fit im a fat wallet dude sweet *** on to sit but ill pass on your jabba **** blubbery *** youve wrinkled your envelope really bad you still claim youre beautiful wow thats sad far from your sloth nest is where i will fly and grind my hips on some younger thin thigh see ive got an exwife and now i love life

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Jun 4, 2016

Jun 4, 2016 at 9:00 AM UTC

chump

hippo crite

hows your love life are you somebodys exwife do you lie fat and cry blame him and not try does the single life taste bad try another old picture want ad you say your fat but youre fixxing it but you still want a man that is bank and fit im a fat wallet dude sweet *** on to sit but ill pass on your jabba **** blubbery *** youve wrinkled your envelope really bad you still claim youre beautiful wow thats sad far from your sloth nest is where i will fly and grind my hips on some younger thin thigh see ive got an exwife and now i love life

16

...besides the LORD, and my menfolk: Nobody. (sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXXIX) I meant to 'gin: Officious. Sunday thence With echoes of religious duties they'll Assure you's needful, 'til in sheer betrayl Tis sin to not be there and an offense To sleep-in, whilst the shabby bow from hence To cold hauteur and know god has a scale Whereby we measure worth by gain's detail-- But I've forgotten whither, in a sense. Come, which is better? Oh yes, to be sure Like he said 'long ere: "say whatever--" to Add, "--but stand on it too." If church is poor Cuz that's pretense, so is aught falsehood. Do I be a hyp'crite in love too, well you're Allowed to censure me. Who owns me? Who? 23Oct16a

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Oct 23, 2016

Oct 23, 2016 at 11:25 PM UTC

JennyGordon

Lo, on This Day for Hot Cars--

...besides the LORD, and my menfolk: Nobody. (sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXXIX) I meant to 'gin: Officious. Sunday thence With echoes of religious duties they'll Assure you's needful, 'til in sheer betrayl Tis sin to not be there and an offense To sleep-in, whilst the shabby bow from hence To cold hauteur and know god has a scale Whereby we measure worth by gain's detail-- But I've forgotten whither, in a sense. Come, which is better? Oh yes, to be sure Like he said 'long ere: "say whatever--" to Add, "--but stand on it too." If church is poor Cuz that's pretense, so is aught falsehood. Do I be a hyp'crite in love too, well you're Allowed to censure me. Who owns me? Who? 23Oct16a

17

Silly You. Hypocrite ypocrite pocrite ocrite crite rite ite te e You're such a hypocrite. I don't know if it's intentional. Only that it's true. Oh, please don't drink, it's so bad for you, please, get better, please please blahblahblahblaaa... Oh, don't mind me, just gonna get **** faced just gonna finish the bottle, and maybe another. Don't mind me. I'm not judging. Silly yo, don't think that. It's my birthday, whatever. Well **** that. Hypocrite. I'll drink. I'll write. I'll hurt. I'll do these things sober too, just watch me. except drinking of course. ha-ha. Please, I'm an adult, blahblah, don't drink, blahblah I'm sorry for everything. Except for the things I'm not. Which is, coincidentally, everything.

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Aug 10, 2012

Aug 10, 2012 at 3:32 AM UTC

jeremy-duff

Silly You

Silly You. Hypocrite ypocrite pocrite ocrite crite rite ite te e You're such a hypocrite. I don't know if it's intentional. Only that it's true. Oh, please don't drink, it's so bad for you, please, get better, please please blahblahblahblaaa... Oh, don't mind me, just gonna get **** faced just gonna finish the bottle, and maybe another. Don't mind me. I'm not judging. Silly yo, don't think that. It's my birthday, whatever. Well **** that. Hypocrite. I'll drink. I'll write. I'll hurt. I'll do these things sober too, just watch me. except drinking of course. ha-ha. Please, I'm an adult, blahblah, don't drink, blahblah I'm sorry for everything. Except for the things I'm not. Which is, coincidentally, everything.

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