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"daft" poems
Your smile makes me smile, Your laugh makes me laugh, Your eyes are enchanting, You make my thoughts seem daft. Since the day I first laid eyes on you, My feelings grew and grew. In that first conversation my knees clicked and clacked, And those butterflies flipped and flapped. And as I spill these simple rhymes, My mind goes over time and time, Why didn't you ask me to dance, During that slow song of endless romance? I hope this doesn't seem to creepy. Please don't think my thoughts have flown too freely. Just know that what I speak is true, And that I have fallen deeply for you.
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Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
CRUSH
Your smile makes me smile, Your laugh makes me laugh, Your eyes are enchanting, You make my thoughts seem daft. Since the day I first laid eyes on you, My feelings grew and grew. In that first conversation my knees clicked and clacked, And those butterflies flipped and flapped. And as I spill these simple rhymes, My mind goes over time and time, Why didn't you ask me to dance, During that slow song of endless romance? I hope this doesn't seem to creepy. Please don't think my thoughts have flown too freely. Just know that what I speak is true, And that I have fallen deeply for you.
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Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
CRUSH
T'was the night before Christmas And with everything done The kids were all dreaming Of Christmas Day fun The tree was completed We had wrapped all the toys When from the basement below We heard a faint noise I sprung from the couch Took off down the stairs On my way through the kitchen I tripped on two chairs I slid down the staircase To the base of my house And there with my shortbreads Was a ****** great mouse My wife followed close And then she let out a shriek She saw me and the mouse And she started to freak He nibbled the cookie and he ran past my nose right down my torso Then he stopped at my toes My wife was still screaming The mouse didn't care He continued his running On under the stairs I crawled to my workshop Grabbed the first thing I found A mallet for pounding That mouse in the ground I limped to the staircase And I swung at the wall I again lost my balance And again, I did fall I put two holes in the riser Two more in the tread I was gonna keep swinging Till that mouse was dead I broke the one lightbulb That lit up the room Now I was worried I couldn't see...found the broom I stepped on one end Squared my self in the sack I then heard a noise The mouse had come back I heard his slight skitter As he went past my feet He was off to the larder For more stuff to eat I went back to the workshop Tripping at least three more times I would finish this mouse He would pay for his crimes I grabbed for a lighter And my large propane torch I would hunt down this mouse And his **** I would scorch I lit up the propane And I aimed at the stairs It caught light on the carpet And I burnt both those chairs The flames went on upward The stairs were quite dry I laughed in hysterics That **** mouse would fry My wife had recovered And decided to run but, after seeing the flames She phoned up 9 1 1 The mouse left the building In fact, he never was found The house burned in seconds It collapsed to the ground And through the whole scene I just stood there and laughed At the wreckage before me And I thought, **** I'm daft I had ruined our Christmas And I burned down our house Over a **** shortbread cookie And one little mouse The kids, they got out And were wrapped up and warm While I was creating My own perfect storm The gifts were all ruined The house ...all consumed And over my head One large question loomed If I had gone for the shotgun And shot at the mouse Would I be still having Christmas And would I still have a house My wife came on over And she gave me a swat She said "look what you've done" "you great stupid **** I learned a great lesson and folks ...it is that Once I rebuild I will then buy a cat!!!
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Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
The Christmas Mouse
T'was the night before Christmas And with everything done The kids were all dreaming Of Christmas Day fun The tree was completed We had wrapped all the toys When from the basement below We heard a faint noise I sprung from the couch Took off down the stairs On my way through the kitchen I tripped on two chairs I slid down the staircase To the base of my house And there with my shortbreads Was a ****** great mouse My wife followed close And then she let out a shriek She saw me and the mouse And she started to freak He nibbled the cookie and he ran past my nose right down my torso Then he stopped at my toes My wife was still screaming The mouse didn't care He continued his running On under the stairs I crawled to my workshop Grabbed the first thing I found A mallet for pounding That mouse in the ground I limped to the staircase And I swung at the wall I again lost my balance And again, I did fall I put two holes in the riser Two more in the tread I was gonna keep swinging Till that mouse was dead I broke the one lightbulb That lit up the room Now I was worried I couldn't see...found the broom I stepped on one end Squared my self in the sack I then heard a noise The mouse had come back I heard his slight skitter As he went past my feet He was off to the larder For more stuff to eat I went back to the workshop Tripping at least three more times I would finish this mouse He would pay for his crimes I grabbed for a lighter And my large propane torch I would hunt down this mouse And his **** I would scorch I lit up the propane And I aimed at the stairs It caught light on the carpet And I burnt both those chairs The flames went on upward The stairs were quite dry I laughed in hysterics That **** mouse would fry My wife had recovered And decided to run but, after seeing the flames She phoned up 9 1 1 The mouse left the building In fact, he never was found The house burned in seconds It collapsed to the ground And through the whole scene I just stood there and laughed At the wreckage before me And I thought, **** I'm daft I had ruined our Christmas And I burned down our house Over a **** shortbread cookie And one little mouse The kids, they got out And were wrapped up and warm While I was creating My own perfect storm The gifts were all ruined The house ...all consumed And over my head One large question loomed If I had gone for the shotgun And shot at the mouse Would I be still having Christmas And would I still have a house My wife came on over And she gave me a swat She said "look what you've done" "you great stupid **** I learned a great lesson and folks ...it is that Once I rebuild I will then buy a cat!!!
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104
Right. Listen to this: Whenever life gets you down, Mrs. Brown, and things seem hard or tough, and people are stupid, obnoxious or daft and you feel that you've had quite enough! Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving and revolving at nine hundred miles an hour! It's orbiting at nineteen miles a second, so it's reckoned, a Sun that it the source of all our power. The Sun, and you and me, and all the stars that we can see are moving at a Million miles a day in an outer spiral arm at forty thousand miles an hour of the Galaxy we call the Milky Way. Our Galaxy, itself, contains a hundred Billion stars. It's a hundred thousand light-years side to side. It bulges in the middle sixteen thousand light-years thick, but out by us it's just three thousand light-years wide. We're thirty thousand light-years from Galactic Central Point, we go round every two hundred Million years! And our Galaxy is only one of Millions of Billions in this amazing and expanding Universe! The Universe, itself, keeps on expanding and expanding in all of the directions it can **** As fast as it can go, the speed of Light, you know twelve Million miles a minute, and that's the fastest speed there is! So, remember when you're feeling very small and insecure, how amazingly unlikely is your birth! And prey that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space because there's ****** all down here on Earth!
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Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
The Galaxy Song - Monty Python
The car will edge past the truck maybe and maybe we'll survive this message playing on repeat, apologies like daft lilies and then you go ahead and tell me that you've never learnt from your mistakes, or my mistakes. That mistakes are only bad unless you change the order of analogy. This experiment has been contaminated. Now a fresh batch. Trust me, there's a point to this. I'm counting back from a hundred and two and you've got me standing in the middle of the highway, blindfolded; this is what loving you felt like, you said. But I think it was more dramatic in my head. Nuclear fission and the seige of Dresden dressed up playing Adagio in D minor; I'm dust. I'm dust. I've become ash and misery and I'm trying to stay inside you but you've been coughing a lot, and who's to say you were holding your breath for something exciting, I just know for a fact that at the end of this beep, you'll know what to do and yet you're not going to leave another message.
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Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
An experiment in love/ After the beep
Ben Kowalewicz (spoken): Hi, my name is Ben Kowalewicz and this is Billy Talent. Well I tripped, I fell down naked I drank from a cup of lead I hugged a skunk, it peed on me Yesterday I joined Scientology Steal a Camaro, then **** Jack Sparrow Try stupid **** try stupid **** Jump in a dump truck, smell **** and get stuck I cannot read, I cannot read **** on computers, then drink some pewter Die sanity, die sanity Marry a cheapskate, gain ninety pounds weight I'm really dumb, I'm really dumb I'm stupid, it's my fault, so daft I like to play in the garbage shaft The best sport is Parkour, **** straight I arrive at work five hours late Drink a deep fryer, eat some barbed wire Try stupid **** try stupid **** Sleep in a fireplace, burn your entire face I cannot read, I cannot read Cinnamon challenge, go on a chalk binge Die sanity, Die sanity Bike into traffic, pose pornographic I'm a ******* I'm a ******* I ate some poo! I'm stupid, it's my fault Try I'm stupid, it's my fault Lie This bad song don't make sense Pie Get a Prince Albert, snake blood for dessert now? Drink some Everclear, cut off your own ear now? Go back in time to, forties as a Jew Try stupid **** try stupid **** Do *** and rip off your right knee I cannot read, I cannot read Find the KKK, put on some blackface Die sanity, die sanity Locate a pervert, then take off your shirt I am a twit, I am a twit I am a twit, I am a twit Try stupid **** try stupid **** I am a twit, I am a twit
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May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 6:15 PM UTC
Try Stupid **** a Billy Talent parody
Refrain from the resentment of others Whose methods may seem foolish, wildly daft For one will not find common acceptance Of every individual's craft Refrain from the resentment of others Uniqueness, distinction of thought is vast One's growth depends on self-exploration For it may expose the world's unknown paths
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Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
To Each His Own
Crawling through my brain till it has made channels connecting to tunnels like little circuits replacing my nerves, the little worm I call Loneliness wriggles onward. A constant motion of forward goes that worm, bringing with it a never ending feeling of monachopsis. Day after day it dwells in my mind as the worm carries on. It adapts and evolves finding a solution to every mastermind plot I find from removing this creature, this beast, this worm from my mind. “Friendship is betrayal, they all leave and deceive in the end,” it whispers through my head as if another conscience inside my being. I fear the worms words and obey every command. Dare I disobey what dismay would come my way? “Happiness is a lie along with perfection, never trace your hands along such deadly lines, the lines of which a mortal mind should never tread,” he says using my beliefs against me. “Happiness is for those who belong, not for you, never for you!” The worm screams those words through my mind anytime I laugh or smile reminding me not to be so daft. Oh beautiful, wonderful,brilliant demon of mine. Keeping me from trying to find ways to end the suffering in my life Morbid torment in the back of my mind, Keeping me from trying to find ways to silence the loneliness screaming within, bringing me further into the dark. What would I do without you, dear Loneliness? You cloud my mind and free me from my foolish desires. Why should I not be alone? If I was meant to feel together, Then together surely I would feel. Why should I feel happiness when happiness isn’t mine? How selfish I would be without you holy creature, Beautiful blessed worm of wonder.
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Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
The worm called Loneliness
Crawling through my brain till it has made channels connecting to tunnels like little circuits replacing my nerves, the little worm I call Loneliness wriggles onward. A constant motion of forward goes that worm, bringing with it a never ending feeling of monachopsis. Day after day it dwells in my mind as the worm carries on. It adapts and evolves finding a solution to every mastermind plot I find from removing this creature, this beast, this worm from my mind. “Friendship is betrayal, they all leave and deceive in the end,” it whispers through my head as if another conscience inside my being. I fear the worms words and obey every command. Dare I disobey what dismay would come my way? “Happiness is a lie along with perfection, never trace your hands along such deadly lines, the lines of which a mortal mind should never tread,” he says using my beliefs against me. “Happiness is for those who belong, not for you, never for you!” The worm screams those words through my mind anytime I laugh or smile reminding me not to be so daft. Oh beautiful, wonderful,brilliant demon of mine. Keeping me from trying to find ways to end the suffering in my life Morbid torment in the back of my mind, Keeping me from trying to find ways to silence the loneliness screaming within, bringing me further into the dark. What would I do without you, dear Loneliness? You cloud my mind and free me from my foolish desires. Why should I not be alone? If I was meant to feel together, Then together surely I would feel. Why should I feel happiness when happiness isn’t mine? How selfish I would be without you holy creature, Beautiful blessed worm of wonder.
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Alarm clock kicks exhaustion into gut immediately as it sounds University student jolts into day still dark 20 years later body still too daft to recognize shrill wake-up call as prey rather than predator US kills Russians in Syria strikes How to get ready in under ten minutes—life hacks you won’t believe: leave without locking the door, forget to brush your hair, and more Five reasons breakfast is the most important meal of the day Trump wants to replace food stamps for impoverished Americans Snow in the forecast for the next three days Why is vitamin D important for our bodies? Sleep deprivation: a student epidemic I’ve had panic attacks every day for the past three years—here’s how I’ve coped Accused killer says victim hired him to do it on Craigslist Want to know how to budget as a college student? Stop buying Starbucks All she has to do to claim 560-million-dollar lotto is make her name public—she refuses Signs that your friendship is coming to an end Lions eat and **** suspected poacher Tips on how to be successful after college These are the victims of the Florida school shooting Binge-drinking on college campuses and escapism: the dangers of drinking to forget Declinism: is the world actually getting worse?
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Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
Politics in the Dark
A thought sometimes forms I live too much yet I do too little.     Woken at strange hours, never asleep.        Rapt in raps        or wrapped in riddles Chained to links or hammered to handle     stubbed to bone Mens et                Manus There is time yet, I swear         To flourish To dream         To make To be         To do         To create Will I? We'll see There's time yet to tell Be yourself, they say     The best you you can be But once more— Will I have time         To edit I live less         I do less     Portfolio: empty     or at least, locked away.         Excitement too.             Blank slate Blank palette Is there any paint? Can I truly make         excitement saturate? Will I be able to place         value as I see fit?     Can the world be hewn slimmer, slicker Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger Tis daft I think, to amuse such a notion But not necessarily so daft to be wrong Emerson called it misunderstood, Shaw found it unreasonable But ay, theres the rub That bed once made, must be lain in and all dreams which might be had are alone not enough Bloom effects don't work outside the movies. Ideas are trash, these are recession times Deflations made them a farthing a dozen                                                                   Started 10.03.11                                Unfinished                                D.B. Guy
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Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:57 AM UTC
A poem for Photoshop
A thought sometimes forms I live too much yet I do too little.     Woken at strange hours, never asleep.        Rapt in raps        or wrapped in riddles Chained to links or hammered to handle     stubbed to bone Mens et                Manus There is time yet, I swear         To flourish To dream         To make To be         To do         To create Will I? We'll see There's time yet to tell Be yourself, they say     The best you you can be But once more— Will I have time         To edit I live less         I do less     Portfolio: empty     or at least, locked away.         Excitement too.             Blank slate Blank palette Is there any paint? Can I truly make         excitement saturate? Will I be able to place         value as I see fit?     Can the world be hewn slimmer, slicker Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger Tis daft I think, to amuse such a notion But not necessarily so daft to be wrong Emerson called it misunderstood, Shaw found it unreasonable But ay, theres the rub That bed once made, must be lain in and all dreams which might be had are alone not enough Bloom effects don't work outside the movies. Ideas are trash, these are recession times Deflations made them a farthing a dozen                                                                   Started 10.03.11                                Unfinished                                D.B. Guy
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Don't You Dare Speak, Your Words Trying To Make Blue Streaks, On The Monalisa Of My Soul, Black Graffiti Stains My Wishes, And Teeth Bare At My Well Being, Am I Daft? Or Sane? My Head Pounding With Lyrics, About How Cruel Life Can Utterly Be, Sharpie Crossing Out My Faith, Paint Vandalizing My Mended Heart, Rust Dressing The Hinges Of My Heartbeat Itself, And Golden Irises Reset, Back To Seaweed Green, Resting On A Bloodshot Background, Crayons Scribbling On The Coloring Book, Of My Dreams, Making It A Midnight Sky Mask, Flecked With Miserable Maroon Tears, Slang Covers My Intellect, Making It Foggy And Usless, You Can Thank Society, For Sculpting My Strength, From A Slab Of Clay, Burning It In A Kiln, To The Foundation Of Life, I Am Art, Sculpted From The Earth's Face, Yet I Sit On A Shelf, Collecting Dust, And All Of The Arrogent People, Doodle On My Shell, Colors Make An Ugly Mix, On My Bodies Skeleton, And What Is Making Me Special, Is Slowly Drowning, Underneath A Sea Of Graffiti
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Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 4:05 PM UTC
Sea Of Graffiti
Sara L Russell, 15th January 2016, 00:04 ------------------------------------------------------------------- So yeah this is me and Julie outside H&M;… trying too hard to look **** Desperate tarts more like. We went to Starbucks after that, then the pub, and then… the rest of the afternoon's a blur. Haha. ----------✿----------- Oh yes and this one's me with Foo Foo, stupid cat's sitting on top of my presentation. She can be useless at times but she makes a good hot water bottle when it's like, really cold? You know? Cats are great for that. Dead sympathetic too. Good listeners. ----------✿----------- Oh now this is a good one. This is me with that **** actor off I'm a Celebrity. He was in… actually I can't remember what he was in? Really like, **** though? Yet I've only seen him on I'm a Celebrity? Anyway he was cool with stopping for a selfie. God love him. (Whoever he is). ----------✿----------- Ahh… this one is me with Julie again. She's such a ****** She's got one of those light up Santa hats on. Daft ***** Never did get one for me. Not that I'd wear one. I prefer those furry reindeer antlers. See? There's one of me with antlers on. ----------✿----------- Oh here's one of me and Mum. Yeah very sad I know. She tries so hard to be cool, bless her. Embarrassing really. I gave her my old phone and she still hasn't worked out how to use it. Takes loads of photos of herself though. So sad.
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Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 7:12 PM UTC
Queen of the Selfie
"You call this good service!? Why you little twit, let me speak to your manager! No, I don't want anything deducted from the bill, I want to speak to your manager RIGHT NOW! So, you're the manager? Well, your daft, twit of a waiter messed up our order THREE TIMES! I DON'T CARE if it's his first day! I WANT YOU TO FIRE HIM!"
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Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
A Monologue of an Angry Customer
It's like this, and then there was total recall. Fast like a safety plan made wrong and then bouncing in and out all the way down the hall. Up through cable cars, Korean fast food market, wet fish, soupy street, concrete cracks filled with crab meat and **** heads. Just a square, a five block, two street, sideways quadrangle, beat of the Tenderloin, hour of the dove. Every one's dead on these loose ends. Hills of the back of her backside, skin of the back of her neck. Rapture is the grave of the sunset, memory is that thing that I said. No one cans in carnivores, no one runs moves like a shepherd. Sunday, daft as candy, luck in the ways of the prophet. Canon of the blaze of every woman that died today. The sleep setting, the motorcycle bending the hollow, the ravines noisy interlude, up through the rough and the tangles, huddles in a six pack, three or four walking up the block to meet the rest of them. The skin doesn't fit right, it wears wrong, the shoulders stiff, the masseuse excuses himself. Buckets of flowers hang from the ceiling like stripped cat christmas decorations in suburban mastermind serial killer resort town. Everyone is quiet because they gotta. They move their feet like they were hurrying death into a red volcano, like they were the errand of red from the top bell to the bottom of the town. I sit on a roof top, baking in the noon day sun. Stripping sticks and stems off the side to sideways, just roasting away, laying, low in the afternoon light. I see a girl with her hands on her skirt, wobbling, scooting a priest card on a periwinkle terra-cotta. I move my head, turn it upside round to take a better look. No one counts to ten when they see me. The gangster that woke up isn't the gangster that went to sleep last night. My wickedness ended my words mean your bright decay. So I ride the pavement exhausted, burying my coughs in an L-shaped arm
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May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Sunday Morning
It's like this, and then there was total recall. Fast like a safety plan made wrong and then bouncing in and out all the way down the hall. Up through cable cars, Korean fast food market, wet fish, soupy street, concrete cracks filled with crab meat and **** heads. Just a square, a five block, two street, sideways quadrangle, beat of the Tenderloin, hour of the dove. Every one's dead on these loose ends. Hills of the back of her backside, skin of the back of her neck. Rapture is the grave of the sunset, memory is that thing that I said. No one cans in carnivores, no one runs moves like a shepherd. Sunday, daft as candy, luck in the ways of the prophet. Canon of the blaze of every woman that died today. The sleep setting, the motorcycle bending the hollow, the ravines noisy interlude, up through the rough and the tangles, huddles in a six pack, three or four walking up the block to meet the rest of them. The skin doesn't fit right, it wears wrong, the shoulders stiff, the masseuse excuses himself. Buckets of flowers hang from the ceiling like stripped cat christmas decorations in suburban mastermind serial killer resort town. Everyone is quiet because they gotta. They move their feet like they were hurrying death into a red volcano, like they were the errand of red from the top bell to the bottom of the town. I sit on a roof top, baking in the noon day sun. Stripping sticks and stems off the side to sideways, just roasting away, laying, low in the afternoon light. I see a girl with her hands on her skirt, wobbling, scooting a priest card on a periwinkle terra-cotta. I move my head, turn it upside round to take a better look. No one counts to ten when they see me. The gangster that woke up isn't the gangster that went to sleep last night. My wickedness ended my words mean your bright decay. So I ride the pavement exhausted, burying my coughs in an L-shaped arm
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he wasn't exactly what I expected him to be   he kept his hair short and messy, wore funny clothes and enjoyed comic books, Daft Punk and ginger-lemon-tea-brewing of all things and bless, he thought his earrings made him seem tough In the end, it was his confidence that won me over his smiley eyes so seamlessly dissolved my doubts and skepticism and took with them, unexpectedly, my heart the kisses he'd plant on my forehead would drag me into his silly world where wonderfully weird hats were worn seriously   and music played on our candy-coloured 2000s cd player while we read together on the couch he offered to massage my feet and I blushed and thought that I was falling for him and he laughed and pulled me close into his chest while I wept with joy for I'd found   happiness
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Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 8:15 PM UTC
Ideal Lover
A dogs vision two partial colors both their names black and white are its sight behold the dog mans trusting and loyal friend always seeing you in black and white humans have the spectrum in their eyes witnessing the blood in a ****** but closing their mouth admiring the greens in a field but is too daft to see the blues and the yellows here everything is black and white nothing tainted with hue or marked by tone shade color my poems are red see guidelines are red but the rest is black and white
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 6:28 AM UTC
(Almost)Everything is Black and White
There's a serpent around me, Coils me close. Rough skin scratching, Holes in my coat. It's rolling like waves of sand paper, Tearing the life outta me. But the closeness, Reminds me of a time of peace. Funneling poison down my own throat, Grind my flesh on jagged rocks and roads. Walking on hot stones to the motivate my step, Putting on my anaconda scarf to keep warm from the daft. If I am hurting, Then how can you hurt me more? Can't be drowning, If I'm beached at shore. My snake protects me with pain, Chokes the hopes outta me. I'm turning from blue to purple, But let me drown in my own sea.
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Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 10:41 AM UTC
Anaconda Scarf
You're beautiful  but I can't remind you every ******* day I can't rediscover that beauty all day When I wake up at 6 am I don't think of it so It's unnatural to so But what I can do is forget it and become unimpressed That would be unnatural Forget to complement your dress Forget to complement your eyes Forget to complement your laugh That would be daft I can climb the top of your shoulders Get lost in your freckles and laughter wrinkles Discover the new sunset and it's death within you Dismiss the rest as average Is that okay? But what I can do is silently admire it every ******* day
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May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
Beauty
/ although i'd love to go back to the cinema of, bell, book & candle from the 1950s in early technicolour... can i? don't think so... trapped the rekindled narrative of myth... i wish i could, do the supra-capitalist, drunk at 5 in the afternoon, and still pulling the strings... early nostalgia of what was late nostalgia of what was 19th century german concerning ancient greece... i chose 17th century france... because? because... why could it ever be england as primo optio?! am i either that daft, or as much stiff for waiting for eddie zee theerd?! well? well done, you guessed my thinking: write a fictive narrative, it'll last longer, like a photograph. immigrant song, led zeppelin - probably the only grand theatre plus,           of thor: rangarok; i still don't know where those M16s came from...   and?       given they used a led zeppelin's song? i honestly, don't want to know. i was honestly going to favour a black sabbath oeuvre, using only solitude    by the witches' congregation ask, aspect, or subsequent, marketing ponce scheme.
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Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC
modern cinema
With Lackey and Heyward both turning blue The Chicago Cubs scored a mighty big coup Kind of a payback for Brock, comma Lou? What, oh what are the Cardinals to do? We’re pretty sad, say the fans dressed in red, That both of those guys chose Chicago instead But a person would have to be daft in the head To give up the St. Louis Cardinals for dead. Yes, the Cubbies think that they have enough But the whole NL Central is pretty **** tough, Which team do you think will have the right stuff? To win in September, when winning gets rough? 2016 will be pretty fun. There’s quite a Division race to be run When game 162 is finished and done We will see which team, the most games, has won. Yes, next year the race will be closely contended During the season you might have me un-friended But in winter time, our rivalry suspended We can cheer for the Bears till their season is ended. Phil Lindsey 12/12/15
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Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
Friendly Rivalry
I remember quite distinctly The night the Angel came Hovering above my field And calling me by name Fred, the Angel yelled to me Waking all my sheep I yelled "you stupid ****** twit" I've just got them to sleep He said a king was born to man And I must go to see I said, "I've got these bleating sheep" I don't do this for free The angel said follow the star All the way to Bethlehem I told him, you must be ****** daft My next shift starts at ten I've been around the world a bit And I've seen a lot of stunts But this angel hung right in the air And his wings did not flap once He said there is a child And he will be the King of Kings I didn't really listen much I was still watching those **** wings The sheep were going batty The field was bight as bright could be I said, of all the shepherds round here Why did you come wake me? He said to travel swiftly And to follow yonder star I said, I'm off to bed mate I'm not going on that far Then there came a bolt of lightning He had barbecued a ewe I thought this bird means business I mean just what could I do? I left my flock with Charlie The shepherd two fields over one And I said I'll be back soon mate I'm off to see the holy son I met up with some others All of us had the same tale Of an angel flinging lightning So we all felt we best bail.... I got there in December I'd been travelling for months The only thing I thought of Those wings...did not move once There inside a manger behind an inn...full up each day Was where I saw a vision I'll remember to my last day Three wise men dressed in robements A little kid, and his tin drum Some donkeys and a camel The baby Jesus and his mum Dad, was in the corner All alone hanging his head He said "How could this have happened" "I never left the bed" I looked upon the baby And I looked down upon that face He looked at me and smiled You could feel a state of grace I really didn't know then What I was here to do But, now I know my task was To tell everyone I knew So, I started out on homeward To tell old Charlie of the kid I picked him up a present Yep..that's exactly what I did I guess the world must owe me and this I 'll stand and shout You could consider my gift to Charlie Was the first true gift given out Now, I sit and watch the sheep here People come up just to see The shepherd who started gifting The shepherd...that is me!!!
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Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
The Shepherd
I remember quite distinctly The night the Angel came Hovering above my field And calling me by name Fred, the Angel yelled to me Waking all my sheep I yelled "you stupid ****** twit" I've just got them to sleep He said a king was born to man And I must go to see I said, "I've got these bleating sheep" I don't do this for free The angel said follow the star All the way to Bethlehem I told him, you must be ****** daft My next shift starts at ten I've been around the world a bit And I've seen a lot of stunts But this angel hung right in the air And his wings did not flap once He said there is a child And he will be the King of Kings I didn't really listen much I was still watching those **** wings The sheep were going batty The field was bight as bright could be I said, of all the shepherds round here Why did you come wake me? He said to travel swiftly And to follow yonder star I said, I'm off to bed mate I'm not going on that far Then there came a bolt of lightning He had barbecued a ewe I thought this bird means business I mean just what could I do? I left my flock with Charlie The shepherd two fields over one And I said I'll be back soon mate I'm off to see the holy son I met up with some others All of us had the same tale Of an angel flinging lightning So we all felt we best bail.... I got there in December I'd been travelling for months The only thing I thought of Those wings...did not move once There inside a manger behind an inn...full up each day Was where I saw a vision I'll remember to my last day Three wise men dressed in robements A little kid, and his tin drum Some donkeys and a camel The baby Jesus and his mum Dad, was in the corner All alone hanging his head He said "How could this have happened" "I never left the bed" I looked upon the baby And I looked down upon that face He looked at me and smiled You could feel a state of grace I really didn't know then What I was here to do But, now I know my task was To tell everyone I knew So, I started out on homeward To tell old Charlie of the kid I picked him up a present Yep..that's exactly what I did I guess the world must owe me and this I 'll stand and shout You could consider my gift to Charlie Was the first true gift given out Now, I sit and watch the sheep here People come up just to see The shepherd who started gifting The shepherd...that is me!!!
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The time in which we gathered together, Lost in our arms and eyes, Correctly begins with "Once upon a time..." And does now beguile my sunrise. - A wasteland is wont for many explorers, In its greed though, it keeps them forever, But the paradise I found with you Would light my every endeavor. - Were each freckle a map of stars upon, The shining blue sky this morn, They"d allow me to navigate your sea of soft skin, And mend a heart, forlorn. - An anchor that kept my vessel afloat While Poseidon's depression near' took me with him, I held the key to your heart, fabled Atlantis, In love as I could ever have been, by an Angel, smitten. - The tender kashmir lips, That promised and fulfilled me to sleep, Have dispersed long ago, And have tempted me to weep. - Complex reflections of my own inner self, Revealed the catastrophe in full, Though you had my heart for yourself, I couldn't find where it leisurely lulled. - Young and daft, I took my own risks, Risks that transformed into sorrow, Shielded at last, that upon my cask' Shall be writ' "perhaps joy comes on the morrow" - The serene, subcontious Siren Knows not even of her own beauty, With eyes that could stop time and planes Of space, she can, so truly. - I beg to be rid of the memories, I ask for constant euthanasia, I consume to forget entirely And regret my own mistakes here.
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
Fornever Ago.
California Kids I’ll call you up on Saturday And invite you over. Take the 101, 110 and 1; (Sounds like an equation!) And you’re there. Just use your GPS.. There’ll be a party at my house, Daft Punk playing on the Echo. It’ll be epic, Echoic! With some vintage’ tunes, Crankin’ the Beach Boys, Watching surfers Shredding out-the-back, Past prowling sharks in the shallows. Lets go to the dunes and maybe kiss. I know that you miss me, So don’t ask me why And when you come, I won’t ask “What are you doing here?” We’ll eat fish tacos, Guacamole, Pico de Gallo And drink margaritas While we debate French new wave, I’ll praise Truffaut while you Tell me that Scorsese is the man. When we get drunk enough I will suggest a walk Along the iridescent surf. You should say yes because I’m safe now that I drive electric, That I turned vegan (sorry about the fish) and wear cruelty-free clothes. I don’t grill snapper anymore And take my shoes off inside the door. Maybe we’ll make it to Tower 28, Lay down and watch the full moon Like Jim Morrison did to write. I’ll tell you I’m glad you’re alive— I’m no poet, but you know that.
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Jun 19, 2023
Jun 19, 2023 at 3:52 PM UTC
California Kids
To-day, this insect, and the world I breathe, Now that my symbols have outelbowed space, Time at the city spectacles, and half The dear, daft time I take to nudge the sentence, In trust and tale I have divided sense, Slapped down the guillotine, the blood-red double Of head and tail made witnesses to this ****** of Eden and green genesis. The insect certain is the plague of fables. This story's monster has a serpent caul, Blind in the coil scrams round the blazing outline, Measures his own length on the garden wall And breaks his shell in the last shocked beginning; A crocodile before the chrysalis, Before the fall from love the flying heartbone, Winged like a sabbath *** this children's piece Uncredited blows Jericho on Eden. The insect fable is the certain promise. Death: death of Hamlet and the nightmare madmen, An air-drawn windmill on a wooden horse, John's beast, Job's patience, and the fibs of vision, Greek in the Irish sea the ageless voice: 'Adam I love, my madmen's love is endless, No tell-tale lover has an end more certain, All legends' sweethearts on a tree of stories, My cross of tales behind the fabulous curtain.'
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2.9k
To-Day, This Insect
Tonight death has come to my bed leaning over to kiss me on my forehead. “Your wait is over”, I hear the whisper. Who would not surrender to something so tender? Yet I wish what remains of life gave me enough time To kiss you on your forehead before I die. When you wake up in the morning, I would have left before the birds sing. What saddens me is not my departure; But whether grief will leave your eyes ever. Will you still see beauty and able to laugh Or miss me too much you end up going daft? Love still remains after the end of so many lives; Nothing truly ends when something dies. And if you ever forget me, dear, if you do, I will already have forgiven you.
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Jun 23, 2011
Jun 23, 2011 at 11:33 AM UTC
Death Kisses My Forehead