"defended" poems
You’re a poisoned rose in a wedding band,
A glad eye with a stabbing hand,
A tumour ,vicious rumour surrounds you,
BP Exxon -death abounds you,
I first found you amusing and witty,
cutting remarks a stick with both ends ******
Gutter scumbag with a glaze of charm,
Only interested in doing harm,
A sociopath with a crocodile smile,
always had the last laugh,- real fight? Run a mile,
Backstabber Judas priest,but **** was I deceived,
Each Lie you sold I truly believed.
I stood by you ,defended you til the bitter end,
Bitter irony I know,with you as a friend,
Who the **** needs enemies, its all a front,
An affront to my instincts,get out of my life you ****
chorus
"My toxic friend this is the end get out of my life for good,
Every time you smile a child dies you’re up to no good,
Don’t call me-text me unfriend me before you end me,
You’re the epitome of the new word-Frenemy."
Now I hear you’re spreading rumours behind my back,
Bad move,wrong play better stand back,
Your malicious manouevery no longer stands,
I’m two steps ahead your end is planned.
You better watch your back,you’ve got no back up and no spine,
Juggling hedgehog maze lies through a field of land mines,
I’ve got my eye on you ex pal,don’t worry your time’s come,
we’ll see who can outrun the .45 from a gun,
That you’ve been begging for for years no tears at your end,
You’re a poxy oxymoron my toxic friend.
So come out to play my way and see who draws first,
I guarantee you a surprise not my blood burst,
Flying in the air like a hose god only knows,
You’re a fly in my eye a burr under my skin so out she goes,
The left that hits your jaw will saw your head from your neck
You talk a good fight,good night,I’ll leave ya wrecked.
chorus
"My toxic friend this is the end get out of my life for good,
Every time you smile an angel loses wings you’re no good,
Don’t call me-text me unfriend me before you end me,
You’re the epitome of the new word-Frenemy."
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
A fashion designer has defended models who were labelled as "gaunt and unwell" on Facebook.
Andrea Moore's I AM range is sold at Farmers, and an image from its current campaign was posted on that company's Facebook page on Friday.
The picture features Chiara and Norina Gasteiger, who are twins represented by Clyne Model Management. Farmers customers did not react well to the now-deleted post.
"They so look gaunt and unwell. I'm really disappointed," Newshub says Anna Webster commented.
"You cannot look at these girls with their bones sticking out and believe that they are a good role model for a family store," Jo Austwick wrote.
"I have enough trouble with body image arguments with my daughters without these images being depicted. They do not look healthy."
Moore said the imagery had never been intended to cause offence, and that she felt for the Gasteiger twins, who have worked with the brand for three years.
"The twins are actually healthy, fun models who are busy university students... We love working with them because of their sense of self-worth and uniqueness as twins," she said.
"We have been in touch with the models and they were most upset by the whole thing. Fortunately, they have received a lot of support from their peers.
"The campaign was about preppy grunge, print with an edge. [It was not] about promoting unhealthy body types [or] anything else," Moore added.
Farmers posted the following statement on Facebook after deleting the I AM image:
"Dear valued Farmers customers! We appreciate you taking the time to send us your comments and concerns on a recent post for I AM. Please know it is not taken lightly and we in no way mean to promote an image for women in NZ to follow that could be regarded as unhealthy.
"We understand that no two bodies are the same and we always seek to show a range of body types throughout all our advertising. These images were supplied by the brand Andrea Moore as part of a wider campaign and were published by us. We will endeavour going forward to work closely with all our partners to ensure an appropriate image is portrayed.
"Thank you once again for your valued feedback."
Clyne Model Management have been approached for comment.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/one-shoulder-formal-dresses
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.
And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.
6k
Tonight I learned what it means to be mortal. To have a fifteen year dream crushed publicly. To smile and be the man that lies, “it’s ok, God has better plans and I trust that.” Tonight my wings were clipped and I was sentenced to a life of soil and toil, forever forced to watch the eagles in orange soar in the clouds and sky that I know I was created to own. I love this place because it is more of a home than I have ever known. It is pure and navy and orange and majestic. I wanted to serve it and glorify my king and this institution. Alas, no. Not I but the vultures. How is it that carrion dominate? How is it that prestige trumps passion? How is it that title and gold trump heart and integrity? I lost respect for my home. I feel as if a stranger in my own walls. I gave more than sweat and blood and tears yet they were swept under the carpet to rot. Fester and rot. I hope my passion and time as leader was well spent, it was and always was for you, tiger, not me! Always! I sharpened your claws and defended your teeth until they ****** me. Why. This is not how it is supposed to be. I pray this love and three year passion was not for non. Not for me, not for nametags or orange jackets, not for titles or for comfort but for passion and unbridled love of the institution which ****** me have I served. I have yet to work through what I’ve learned through this but tonight I know a chapter has ended and it hurts. It’s not that the chapter ended and a period was placed and the next began, it’s the end of the climactical chapter and the next pages are blank. Existent, yes. But blank. And the white on the page pales in comparison to orange and blue. I hate white and it’s idle uncertainty. I hold the pen but tonight my hand was severed, my limbs they rot, and my heart is numb. I am jello and I am free. And I hate, with every inth of my fibrous being, this freedom. I miss my chains.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 12:28 PM UTC
Match, match forward and go, you heroic sons of America
Reconnoiter into the strongholds of boko haram,
And restore our captive girls from the foul custody,
Lawlessly held hostage by the connoisseurs of terror,
Go on and recover poor souls from ribald of religion
Impishly created by Moslem from the satanic verses,
Regulating foray of terror on the poor of the poor
****** mahyeming, looting and executing massacres,
Match on and on yee angels of democracy,
Don’t stop in any haste or in any wonder,
To help in the sham flabbergastations,
About the Igbos who fought the Biafra,
And the Yorubas who federally defended,
Under the aegis of Obasanjo the Sandhurst
General, where are they all to save the girls
Of Nigeria from the Islamist terror
Excuted by boko haram the handmaid of evil.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
There’s a lot to be said for this place.
A near-perfect pitch for diversity,
Diversity: a neurolinguistic term;
A quaint way to say: miscegenation.
No, just kidding; I meant the melting ***
A fine blend of Anglo, Hispanic & Indian blood—
That’s Pueblo & Plains Indian blood--
Not that **** masala, chapati & dal Indian blood.
My apologies to "Who's the White Guy?" Bobby Jindal.
New Mexico: “The Land of Enchantment.”
Where 310 sunny days per annum,
Are like money in the bank, earning
Double-plus compound interest for those
Suffering with seasonal affective disorders.
A land of sunshine without the orange juice,
But substitute chili, red or green?
An equitable offset to be sure.
310 days of sunshine:
Even the white people are brown here.
Which does a lot for my self-esteem.
Back east—New York, Chicago & Philadelphia e.g.—
People that look like me, i.e.,
People with dark brown hair, eyes and skin,
Get stopped/ass-cheek spread/& frisked, routinely.
Stop & Frisk: NYPD’s spectator sport for decades.
Stop & Frisk: Mayor Bloomberg-defended
Crime-stopping Godsend,
Getting guns off the streets.
Getting homicides down.
Everything’s cool until some slick race baiter,
Starts yelling: RACIAL PROFILING.
Forget for a moment that people that look like me,
People like me with dark hair, eyes & skin,
Commit 78% of the crime in most cities.
“It’s not racially driven profiling,”
Said Newark’s police director recently
Referring to stops carried out by his officers.
“IT’S CRIME-DRIVEN PROFILING!”
But, again, political-correctness trumps common sense:
August 2013: Judge Rules NYPD
Stop-and-Frisk Unconstitutional.
Well I’ll be a monkey’s *** ******
I moved to New Mexico to blend in.
My complexion a shoe-in for
The Witness Protection Program or
Any other public or private,
Domestic or international rendition site.
But I digress.
New Mexico: no passport necessary, Babaloo!
New Mexico: be you white or black, Hispanic or Indian,
Or even Roswell extraterrestrial,
The cops here will beat the **** out of you.
Or shoot you dead, Kemosabe.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
we were sisters, weren't we?
i remember when we were young -
everything was easy then, wasn't it?
before your beauty bloomed and
my plainness stayed,
before the curve of your hips and the sparks of your smile,
set my mother's heart on fire.
we were sisters, weren't we?
when we used to kneel by the hearth for fun,
digging up buried treasure,
sifting through the ashes with our clean-girl hearts,
laughing.
that was before the bitterness choked our home.
we were sisters, weren't we?
you used to crawl under the covers with me,
whisper ghost stories and laugh at me when i got scared.
i reflected your prettiness then,
it shone on me like
the sun on a mirror,
my glass face unmemorable and making yours
all the more dazzling
(not that we knew it:
we were both beautiful,
before we knew any better)
we were sisters, weren't we?
i held your hand when my mother cut you with her words,
i stood up for you when she worked you, i did.
i never once raised a word when you would come to my room,
crying and
raving about her.
i held you when your missing for your own mother rose up sharp in your heart, and i
defended you when my mother spread words like thorns in the villages.
i never once envied you your beauty.
we were sisters, weren't we?
and when that prince came for you,
laughing and
pebbling our window with stones,
i helped you shimmy out into his arms.
i would clean the mud off your shoes when you would stumble back in,
right before the sun came up,
i would put you to bed and make you tea to warm the early-morning chill out of your rose-pink cheeks,
and i waited for you that night you didn't come back.
we were sisters, weren't we?
and you left us.
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 3:17 PM UTC
I live
dream
die
to create
complete
each letter
word
turning phrase and
thought-out straightaway
You read
breathe
digest
every syllable
letters strung
like a popcorn necklace
fingerpainted fragment sentences
authoritatively artistic and
defended in brazen resolve
my keeper of the slight,
the nuanced, softly sung,
down-quilted gerunds:
holding, brushing, sweeping
tasting, loving
There is no sound in space.
No quiet nothings whispered.
The sunlight on my face
now scorching, cracking, blistered,
Starvation
comes quickly
when the cook's not around;
so when the words stop
if need be,
feast on me.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 2:18 AM UTC
I am water,
the good
and the evil,
defended by foes;
abhorred by friends.
In the nightfall,
I am but water
with harrowing tears.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
PRAYER IS A TEAM SPORT
[In the voice of your favourite over-excited rugby commentator.]
We're inside the final quarter. We've seen a bone-cruncher of a contest today and there's no sign of a let up, the pray-ers gather for the next engagement, positioning themselves with practiced confidence, skillfully supporting each other, ready for the push. You can see every knee and each hand bears the marks from this long muddied pray, red and brown staining every inch of their entwined limbs; - arms and hands holding fast.
Front row.
Second row.
Back row.
Digging in for the big push.
The opposition has played an intelligent game, taking advantage of any lapse in concentration, any sign of tiredness, looking for any weakness to exploit. The pray-ers know they can't afford any slips now, they need to keep up the pressure, maintain their advance deep in the opposition's half. Every yard of gained ground needs to be defended.
The pray-ers' Coach looks on - look at his smile! You can see the pride he has for his team, he's schooled them on every tactic of the opposition and now that training, that practice has paid dividends. This is a team of pray-ers that so clearly know each other well, supporting each other every step of the way. You can see their coordinated pray, their sustained effort and the sheer pleasure they feel when they are praying together.
The pray-ers drive on. The sound of their groans and deep breaths merge into one. There's a rhythm to it, a cadence as together they push and PUSH.
The opposition's footing is slipping, the pray-ers' momentum gains pace and, YES! the resistance collapses. Oh, that must have hurt!
But there's no time for complacency, the pray-ers re-form their line looking for the next opening, the next opportunity to push forward.
This is a joy to see. The Coach shouts his encouragement - this was never going to be an easy struggle; you can't dismiss the opposition - they are a seasoned though sometimes disorganised team and they can take you by surprise. But as we've seen here today, the Coach knows that if his team of pray-ers keep to the plan and pray to their strengths, the opposition are surely in for a hiding. The pray-ers will triumph and they will take the winners' crown.
- Now back to the action.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 2:14 AM UTC
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.
And round that early-laurelled head
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.
3.5k
The Lion of Panshir
United different ethnic groups
Uzbeks and Turkmen
People from Kandhar, Paktiyah, and Jalalabad
Under the Northern Alliance
He went to try to negotiate with the Taliban
He said they were "In a different world"
The Taliban are not Muslims
They are murderers and thugs
They do not serve Allah
The Lion of Panshir and the Mujahideen
Defended his native homeland from the Taliban
The Taliban could not enter the Panshir Valley
10,000 Taliban were slayed
By the Mighty Lion of Panshir and his forces
The mighty lion went to try to negotiate with the Taliban
He said they were "In a different world"
Death to the Taliban
May God continue to bless the ancestors of the mighty lion of Panshir
And the people of the Panshir Valley
The true followers of Allah
The Most High God
100,000 people gathered
For the funeral of Ahmed Massoud
Great leader, Loving father, Proud warrior
They built a musem in his honor
Your spirit lives on Ahmed Massoud
Allahu Akbar!
God is greatest
And you were one of His greatest servants
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
#
*Stone upon stone,
the walls were raised;
each block a silence,
each silence a debt
never spoken of aloud.
Within,
the child’s voice echoed,
but the mortar held fast,
sealing grief in chambers
where no light could enter.
From the outside,
the fortress looked steady,
even noble--
its towers reaching upward,
its gates well-kept..
its banners bright.
But within its walls,
rot thickened
and the beast..
undisturbed,
found shelter.
Every silence defended it.
Every smile concealed it.
Every careful word
laid another stone
against the truth.
And though the watchman cried,
the city called the fortress beautiful.
Every fortress defends
but none heals.*
Every wall that protects
is also a wall
that imprisons.
#
Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 4:59 AM UTC
I sat in my living room watching Modern Family with my dad and my mom mom
When my mom mom turns to my dad and says,
Todd I am so proud of you for not having any homosexual children.
Now I realize this could’ve been the moment I come out.
But instead of feeling like that was my open door,
I felt like someone had just pushed me back inside the closet
And slammed it shut.
When you think of a homophobic person,
You imagine someone who is mean and extremely religious.
But my mom mom is a kind and generous woman.
Anyone can be homophobic.
I was homophobic.
Raised in a “Christian” household I grew up in a church.
My roots were in prayer and god was my sun.
I shamed gays and eventually
I shamed myself.
You always hear how people come out to their families,
but next time,
Ask them how they came out to themselves.
Because that is the hardest part.
Or at least it was for me.
I ripped up all my roots, blocked out the sun, and dug into myself
To change the parts of me I thought were law.
Things my dad had preached to my church
About gays being an abomination
And now here I am, the abomination he spoke so often of.
Once you start realizing your parents weren’t always right,
You have to start making your own judgments.
What do you believe in anymore if up to that point,
Every opinion you defended was one you took from your parents,
Passed down to you like character traits.
My dad and I are both stubborn
And we were both homophobic until
I started not just wanting to be certain pretty girls,
But I stared wanting to be on certain pretty girls.
I had to change every part of me that hated myself
And I found so much love in me that I never thought I had
And suddenly a lot of things made sense.
In a perfect world, my family would dig up their roots too.
Look to God and realize that
He is about love for everyone without the “no **** before it.
God is not homophobic.
My family is.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
These words keep arriving by post,
By phone and through the air:
They say, “I love you the most!”
And he’s always unprepared.
I dismissed them until I knew
What they could mean,
What they could do.
They let a young boy believe
In a dangerous fantasy
Of the young or naïve,
And give himself to ecstasy.
He’d already given himself away
To a girl who “merely loved” him;
He was swayed.
He was wounded by a whim.
How could his young heart
Know the anguish of love spurned?
Of changing minds and false starts?
That passion fades as quickly as it burns?
He was “crushed” when it ended;
His response, pure and true.
Still that phrase he insanely defended!
“I love you, I love you, and I love you”!
How hollow to me it still rings!
My beloved son in pain.
What makes a girl do these selfish things?
What is it that they gain?
Young hearts now seem to lack wisdom;
They’re so eager to believe.
Yet they haven’t the caution
It takes to give love and receive.
Summer, 2006
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 8:56 AM UTC
When I look out from the smudged and cracked windows of home,
I know there's no place quite the same as right here;
No place I could find that quite catches my ear,
And no place quite the same that can swallow my fears,
To the depths of this heated and comfortable box,
In which I am protected by numerous locks,
From intruders and bandits,
Salesmen and clerks;
I am the legal intruder,
And for me, that's what works.
Yet I'm here when, in fact, I am meant to be there;
Not far from my home,
I'm meant to be learning whats fair.
I am meant to be learning what's right and what's wrong,
Yet 6 hours of my time a day seems quite long,
To be spending on verbs, nouns and pronouns,
On algebra, fractions, and abnormal word sounds.
This life is not theirs; this life is all mine,
Such an old and used system would appear to be right,
Yet I beg to differ, as revolution now squeaks,
To push through the systems cracks and cause leaks,
In which free-thinking filters the words of the old,
Who believe themselves better, for they're trained and so bold.
When I look to society, what is it I see?
Is it a throng of a thousand people who seem to be free?
Not quite, yet at the same time, that seems quite close,
They are free in a box, in which authority is the host.
*"Civilization has to be defended against the individual,
And its regulations, institutions and commands are directed to that task."**
Quite an obvious command,
And it seems that at last,
Man is learning to embrace what they each see as free;
And it does not simply stop at being free to simply be,
It goes beyond such in mind, matter, soul, and in trust;
For it is the systems denial,
Towards which I lust.
The institutions, and nations,
Corporations, news stations,
Stateism, classism, all attempt to control,
Who I am, what I do, where I go, who I meet;
They tell me to relax, and just take a quick seat;
Yet I know what I want from life is free feet,
To be who I am,
And take all the heat.
To do what I do,
And ignore what's 'elite.'
To go where I go,
And control, as such, my feet.
To meet who I meet,
And next to them, take a seat.
I am not a name,
And I am not a number.
I am always awake in my mind,
As I slumber.
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
These, in the day when heaven was falling,
The hour when earth's foundations fled,
Followed their mercenary calling
And took their wages and are dead.
Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
They stood, and earth's foundations stay;
What God abandoned, these defended,
And saved the sum of things for pay.
3k
A man I am meant to love told me the amount of skin I show represents my right to consent.
Flesh = Yes
Clothes = No
"Deserving" is a word he used.
A grandfather told his grandchild she deserved to be abused based off the length of her skirt, but this is old news; same story.
Only, I've heard it one time too many and now I'm sick of it.
"Devastated" over my hypothetical **** he'd said,
as though his feelings mattered more than my right to my body.
Well, **** him.
I'm tired of prioritising people whose opinions are so archaic they can't see the crime in their words.
And his words hurt.
He defended the 'nature of men', claiming its an inbreed instinct,
tried to explain the appeal of women as though I don't already know.
Jokes on him.
I'm gay.
But I've never been under the illusion it's okay to objectify or intimidate your way into a person's life.
I've never felt entitled to a person I've liked
And there lies the generational divide
Because neither has my brother.
Being "unable to control certain urges" is just another lie they feed you to perpetuate a culture of ****
I'm seventeen, and yet I know the fear a predatory gaze can cause,
I've been leered at to the extent I honestly thought this is it.
This is the moment I've been warned about.
And then I thought "It's my own fault.
It's dark, it's after nine, I went out running in only a sports bra,
of cause I'm going to find trouble"
because I forgot that I'm not an object.
I'd been fed the same message so frequently it was ingrained into my fight or flight response.
Doesn't that speak for itself?
I'd been conditioned to accept the blame before the finger was even pointed.
So when my grandfather looked me in eye and said he thought girls where asking for it by the way they dressed,
I didn't have the energy to suppress my response.
I asked him if I'd been out drinking with friends wearing a sheer dress and matching bralette, and I was ***** would he consider it my fault.
His answer was met with stunned laughter.
Yes, he'd consider me to blame, and indicated his disappointment should weigh on my conscious.
I am shamed I have the same genetics as such a man.
At least I've learned to drown out his words so they can no longer effect me.
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
Once upon a time
a long time ago
in a land far away
there lived a princess,
a damsel in distress;
with a hope
that one day
her life would be made whole
with a kiss from a prince.
A prince,
a hero of sorts.
He’s fought dragons and
monsters and
thieves.
He defended his kingdom
with all his might
with the hope
that his life would be made whole
with a perfect
damsel in distress.
At the center of the tower,
the one in which the princess lives
is a man,
of an unfortunate, horrible
evil.
And just like the princess,
and the prince,
the antagonist, the
king
is just as cliché as the rest
with a hope
That he will rule the kingdom.
The one guarding the girl,
the damsel in distress,
is the monster -
the dragon,
the one from childhood stories.
He shoots fire from his mouth
the color of blood
and he defends
the princess with all his might,
with a hope that one day
he’ll taste the prince’s blood.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 11:13 AM UTC
I used to think I needed a certain person to keep me sane when my loved one was gone; when I needed someone to talk to,
But I seem to have forgotten all the horrible things they have done to me,
All of the scars they have caused mentally and physically,
All the pain you caused,
But after all of the horrible things you have not only done to me but to the ones who cared about you,
I defended you when you should have gotten nothing more than a 'fuck you' from me,
I defended you even when I knew you were lying,
Because unlike you, I'm a loyal friend,
But you have ruined almost everything good you had in your life, and because losing the good is your fault, I feel no sympathy,
So stop making yourself seem like the victim, because in the end you did this to yourself,
I learned that I don't need someone who gave the impression of helping me when you turned around and made fun of me,
I'm done with you,
Have a nice life,
The smile I used to give you that was so bright,
Has no turned to a 'fuck you, bitch'
And have a goodnight.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
BRIAN, YOU ARE STILL A LITTLE SHY BOY, BUDDY
YOU SEE MY DAD CLOSED THE DOOR SAYING
DON’T WORRY ABOUT THE TEASING, BE LIKE ME AND MUMMY
AND WENT BACK IN AND I FOLLOWED DAD AND HE SAID
ARE YOU GETTING TEASED, BRIAN , AND I SAID, I AM TEASING YOU
CAUSE DAD, YOUR NOT LIKE US, YOUR NOT LIKE US, YA NOT LIKE US
I AM A YOUNG DUDE, AND YOU ARE A GRUMPY OLD ****
AND DAD SAID GO TO YOUR ROOM, AND I SAID NEH, I AM STILL COOL, BUDDY
DAD SAID, COOL, WHY DO YA WANT TO BE COOL FOR, BE LIKE ME AND MUMMY
OR A SHY YOUNG DUDE, AND I SAID, YOU ARE FUCKEN SHY, DAD
AND DAD GOT UP AND SAID, GO TO YOUR BLINKEN ROOM YA LITTLE SHY BOY
AND IF WE HAD LOCKS, I WILL LOCK YOU IN, I SAID WHEN YOU DIE
YOU ARE LEARNING ABOUT HOW KIDS OF TODAY ACT
DAD SAID SHUT UP, YOUR STILL A LITTLE SHY BOY
AND RAN TO HIS SEAT, AND I FOLLOWED HIM SAYING, I AM STILL NOT LEAVING YOU ALONE DAD
AND DAD SAID, GO TO YOUR ROOM YA FOOL, YA FOOL
I SAID, HIT ME HERE IN THE FACE DADDY, AND HE SAID OK AND HIT ME SQUARE IN THE FACE
AND TRIED TO RUN TO HIS SEAT, AND I FOLLOWED HIM TO HIS SEAT
SAYING, I WANT TO BE COOL, AND HE SAID COOL WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE COOL FOR
GO AWAY FOOL, DAD, SAID, AND I STUCK MY FINGER UP AT DAD, AND HE SAID
DON;T GIVE ME THOSE RITCHARD HAND SIGNALS YA FOOL YOU FLAMING FOOL
AND I SHOWED DAD MY FINGER 199 TIMES, MY BROTHER DEFENDED DAD LIKE A MANS KID WOULD
AND I STARTED A BG ARGUMENT WITH DAD SAYING, I WAS TOO COOL FOR THIS FAMILY
HE SAID, GO AWAY YA FOOL, GO AWAY FOOL, GO FOR A WALK, YA NEED TO LET OFF STEAM
I SAID, NEH, I WANT TO HAVE MY SAY, DAD YOU NEED TO LIGHTEN UP
DAD SAID, GO TO YOUR ROOM, FOOL, GO TO YOUR ROOM, YA FOOL
AND I SAID, **** OFF AWAY FROM US YOUNG DUDES, BUDDY, YOU ARE AN OLD FUCKEN KODGER
DAD SAID, GO AWAY YA FOOL, AND WENT INTO THE KITCHEN TO WIPE UP
AND I REMEMBER FOLLOWING HIM, SAYING, LISTEN TO ME, DAD I AM NOT YOUR FAVOURITE SON AM IT
HE SAID, NO, NOT IF YOU CARRY ON LIKE THIS YOUR NOT, YOUR A LITTLE SHY BOY, BUDDY
I SAID, DAD I WANT TO STAB YOU IN THE BACK, DAD SAID WHERE’S THE KNIFE
THE BIG THING WAS, WHERE’S THE KNIFE, I DIDN’T WANT TO **** DAD, HE’S FAMILY
I WAS REALLY TEASING LIKE THE COOL YOUNG DUDES DID IN THE 1980s
WHEN DAD FINISHED THAT HE RAN STRAIGHT TO HIS CHAIR
AND I FOLLOWED HIM, SAYING, YOU ARE A STUPID FATHER
HE SAID, GO AWAY FOOL, GO AWAY FOOL, LEAVE ME ALONE BRIAN, I’M A FAMILY MAN
I SAID, I HAVE COOL MATES, I DON’T NEED YOU TO SAY, YOUR LIKE ME AND MUMMY BRIAN EVERY DAY
THEN I SAID I AM COOL, DAD, DAD SAID, COOL, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE COOL FOR
WELL, NOW DAD IS DEAD, I GOT MY CHANCE TO TELL DAD THAT I WAS BEING A KID
AND NOW IT’S DAD’S TURN TO BE ONE OF DAVID AND LISA CAMPBELL’S TWINS
PAIRED WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS, THEY ARE JUST LIKE EACH OTHER
DAD, IS SOON TO BE JIMMY BARNES’S GRANDCHILD WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS
TO JOIN OLGA CHICK
HAPPY NEXT LIFE, DAD
AND LET US DUDES BURN YA OLDIE OFF WITH METHANE, TO IMPROVE YOUR NEXT EARTH BODY
BOBYE BLINKEN DAD, YA FOOL, I AM ONLY JOKING, HA HA HA HA
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
How can animal rights be defended,
not defending the rights of the unborn children...
How can the rights of the unborn children be defended,
not defending the poor or the hungry children...
Oh, the right, oh, the left...
Conservative jerks will call me names like a "leftist",
And on the leftist side, they will accuse me of being a rightist.
I am not a prophet in my country.
1.2.2021
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 1:56 PM UTC
This plot of ground
facing the waters of this inlet
is dedicated to the living presence of
Emily Dickinson Wellcome
who was born in England; married;
lost her husband and with
her five year old son
sailed for New York in a two-master;
was driven to the Azores;
ran adrift on Fire Island shoal,
met her second husband
in a Brooklyn boarding house,
went with him to Puerto Rico
bore three more children, lost
her second husband, lived hard
for eight years in St. Thomas,
Puerto Rico, San Domingo, followed
the oldest son to New York,
lost her daughter, lost her “baby,”
seized the two boys of
the oldest son by the second marriage
mothered them—they being
motherless—fought for them
against the other grandmother
and the aunts, brought them here
summer after summer, defended
herself here against thieves,
storms, sun, fire,
against flies, against girls
that came smelling about, against
drought, against weeds, storm-tides,
neighbors, weasels that stole her chickens,
against the weakness of her own hands,
against the growing strength of
the boys, against wind, against
the stones, against trespassers,
against rents, against her own mind.
She grubbed this earth with her own hands,
domineered over this grass plot,
blackguarded her oldest son
into buying it, lived here fifteen years,
attained a final loneliness and—
If you can bring nothing to this place
but your carcass, keep out.
2.4k
I asked him I said “don’t lie to me”
Give it a couple weeks but after that
then he be denying me,
take without supplying me
With the way we started
I guess this **** is irony, this **** is irony
If I told this would happen
Would you try to stop it?
Lay back in the mayback
Sit and wait
N Try to watch it
Boy I know we had our problems,
But you ain’t work to solve them
I been thru all this last year
I think that I’m revolvin
I’ve been thru this **** before
I took all of the detours
He told that he loves me
But it seems he always needs more
I can be the best for you
I’m so focused on you but you focused on what drug next for you
I know I have my issues but at least I try to fix it
You said that loves a game,
You say we swung and that we missed it
Switched up in an instant
We went from hugs and kisses
To tryna keep our distance
We barely speak our words
But I know you feel this verse
Ain’t denying it, I miss you
So I prey to god it hurts
I tried and tried and tried with you
I knew that I would ride for you
It really takes some honesty
And know I barely lied to you
Love was thrown around so let me be the last to save you...
I knew I should’ve expected this
Maybe you ain’t it no more
But I sure need to check for this
I tried everything so I think it’s time for an extra man, what extra man?
No this not a diss track,
But baby you ain’t it no more
So you can get your ***** back, get your ***** back
No regrets except for you,
Shoulda up and left on you
This is all yours so keep listen
And the rest for you
Love is gonna throw you out,
Told my friends I had no doubt, had no doubt yah yah had no doubt
Can’t believe that I defended you,
Broken hearts I’d mend for you
I used to send long paragraphs
But now this song in sendin you
It’s broken
I won’t bend for you
I won’t bend for you
Nah I won’t bend for you
You get on my nerves,
But it used to be my mind
I used to think you’re perfect
It’s a ****** waste of time
And I swear i keep searchin
But your type is all I find
All I find
Yah yah you’re all I find
Pretending you don’t know me gone be hard after this
Thought that I was done
Still goin hard after this
Baby we was up to bat
I guess we all gotta me,
We all gotta miss
But I should say thanks
I’m super focused now
You don’t want it?
That’s okay I won’t go hold you down
Used to spend my nights
We’d fall asleep on the call
Now I spend my nights I sleep quite at all
I hate you and I love you
And I wrote to express that
I hate this I hate us
It’s done now, never text back
I’ll send calls to voice mail
I won’t take my ex back
I hope you gonn find better
But baby it don’t get that
Baby It don’t get that
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC