"dong" poems
Isn't it awfully nice to have a *****
Isn't it frightfully good to have a ****
It's swell to have a ******
It's divine to own a ****
From the tiniest little tadger
To the world's biggest *****
So, three cheers for your ***** or John Thomas.
Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake,
Your piece of pork, your wife's best friend,
Your Percy, or your ****
You can wrap it up in ribbons.
You can slip it in your sock,
But don't take it out in public,
Or they will stick you in the dock,
And you won't come back.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
National Liberation Day Of Korea
Freedom means August 15, 1945.
Koreans celebrate their day of liberation.
Freedom is like a Magpie,
Flying in the morning sky,
Above the ancient palaces of Seoul,
Freedom is like the Rose of Sharon,
Growing in "The land of morning calm."
Freedom is like a river named Han,
Unstoppable!
Freedom means flying the Taegeukgi.
Outside and high!
Freedom is Lively,
Freedom is President Moon Jae-in
President of South Korea,
Freedom is vibrant!
Freedom is festivals,
Freedom is unhindered!
Freedom is a Buddhist monk,
Everland!,
Freedom is unbound!
Freedom is tasty Kimchi,
Deoksugung Palace!
Freedom is lively parties,
Freedom is dancing,
The greatest Palaces of Seoul!
Freedom is treasured!
Freedom is a green bottle,
Soju!
Freedom is Arirang!
Korea's song,
A gift to the world from Korea,
Freedom is Queen Min; Still remembered,
Resting under a cherry blossom tree,
Freedom is Seoul!
A wonder to be seen on the Han River!
Freedom is luminous,
Busan Nightlife,
Changdeokgung Palace!
Freedom is unchained!
Freedom is sports,
Jeju-do!
Freedom is escape!
Freedom is honor!
Battle of Inchon!
Freedom is rising in the sky,
One of the most dynamic cities,
Seoul!
Freedom is no longer
Imprisoned,
Freedom is camping,
Freedom is priceless!
Freedom is one's honor!
Deoksugung Palace!
Freedom is treasured!
Freedom is the miracle,
Seoul!
Freedom is food,
Freedom is Kimchi,
Freedom is hopeful,
Freedom is Yu Gwan-sun!
Long live Korean independence!
Freedom is a Buddhist monk writing,
Freedom is thinking about your dreams,
Not looking behind your back!
Freedom is a child going to school,
Freedom is ultra-modern,
Seoul!
Freedom is escape!
Freedom is music,
K-POP!
Freedom is Arirang playing,
Freedom is essential,
White Day!
Freedom, people, shining in the sun,
Freedom is loved,
Yuna Kim!
Freedom is essential,
Freedom is "The March 1st Movement",
Yu Gwan-sun!
Freedom is shopping,
Freedom is walking our dogs,
Freedom is writing what you think,
Freedom is Sejong the Great!,
Hangul!
Freedom is bringing your dreams into the world,
Freedom is poetry,
Yun Dong-ju!
Freedom is traditions,
Freedom is wearing Hanbok.
Freedom is being empowered!
Freedom is.
Freedom is.
Freedom is.
A United Korea!!!
Copyright © 2013 - 2017 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 6:00 AM UTC
He thwack no metronome to kick oneself
Thwack his **** sucker
With his monolithic flaccid trunk rubber
Me and my Dalek doped
And my excrement unsweetened
Copulate in the open without my jockstrap
You shat encrusted to what you deflowered
So at arm’s length ****** from all that we excreted in the wind’s eye
And I bounce a bedevilled backwash
My incredibles are shafted
I’ll **** **** to Arab
We only jabbered hasta la vista amongst homophones
I croaked a hundredweight arsonists
You **** posterior to her
And I **** **** to…
I **** **** to myself
I ****** you powerfully
The body beautiful’s not enough to go round
You enjoy spanking and I wallow in *********
And ***** is like a tobacco teabag
And I’m a bijou **** coming the corsets in custody
We only jabbered hasta la vista amongst homophones
I croaked a hundredweight arsonists
You **** posterior to her
And I **** **** to…
Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab
I **** **** to…
I **** **** to…
We only jabbered hasta la vista amongst homophones
I croaked a hundredweight arsonists
You **** **** to her
And I **** **** to Arab
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 4:34 PM UTC
This is a poem about love
and sticking your ***** in a dove.
Getting married in a church
of Satan.
I went to dunkin donuts
to get some ******* donuts.
A black man yelled at me
so loud that it made me ***
So I unzipped my pants
and put my ding-dong on a table
then said "beat that ******
and he started beating himself while smoking a black and mild with a KFC bucket in his arms full of cow turds.
(I HATE ******* POETRY)
Poetry is the language of love.
No wonder it's full of ********
Lust is where it's at
when I finger bang your uncle's grandpa's cat.
Randomness is fun
especially when you do crack.
I still ******* hate poetry.
You can **** my 20 foot purple headed yogurt slinger full of tar.
I am Bill Clinton and I approve this message.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
Weep not Nigeria,
for justice is in the offing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your cries resonate and ring.
Weep not Nigeria,
It's time for your African spring.
Weep not Nigeria,
none shall usurp your role as king.
Weep not Nigeria,
for soon in ecstasy you'll sing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for to towering heights you'll cling.
Weep not Nigeria,
and soar atop the eagle's wing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your patience will gladness bring.
Weep not Nigeria,
it's time to sing the ding **** song.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your misery will not be long.
Weep not Nigeria,
for you are numbered with the strong.
Jan 17, 2020
Jan 17, 2020 at 5:37 AM UTC
I like Homestuck,
Donald Duck,
Ancient Greek Gaea,
APH Hetalia,
Marzia and Pewdiepie,
Random bow ties,
Doctor Who,
That colour of greenish blue,
Sherlock Holmes,
Garden gnomes,
Boy/boy ****
Sweet tea,
Left 4 dead,
Books I've read,
Minecraft,
When I laughed,
Yu-Gi-Oh,
Gateau,
Ender's Game,
Notre Dame,
World War One,
World War Two,
Mouse and shrew,
Bugsy Malone,
Jam scones,
Birthday cake,
Milk shake,
Drawing art,
Taking part,
MLP,
Shopping spree,
Sleeping in,
West Berlin,
Random songs,
When bells go ****
Stars shine,
My blood line,
All my friends,
The latest trends,
Yuri much,
And such and such,
Fanfiction,
A prediction,
Doujinshis,
Marshall Lee,
RhymeZone,
My touchscreen phone,
I could go on,
But that's too long,
But my favourite is,
Hello poetry - so don't diss!!
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
homeland security
on these nuts
home land security
in your butts
home land security
look but don't touch
it's too much
for 'em to understand
***** jacker
**** in hand
hatin' big wacker
on tha attacker
i like 'em blacker
she's a ***** packer
don't like 'em battered
spell bound brain washed
what's tha matter?
Homeland Security Act
homeland security
tryin' ta scare
why can't tha government care?
socialist ideals
not tryin' to hear
hippie gal tryin' ta spread peace
until the cognizance cease
down with tha ****
come in your hair
tryin' ta do me long
they can't take it down
ya know they messin' around
neo-con trick
tryin' ta make brunette sick
don't they like the way i hold my ****
maybe i wanna take a lick
lyin' bitchin' wichin' cryin'
like a man's supposed to be dyin'
look at 'em fryin'.
sorcery zap to the court-ordered goofs
snitchin'
doin' bad things
mad federal schemes
they all occultic fiends
with yo mama church
as the ball swings
** **** on me
mother **** the holy see
what ya tryin' to be
....holy?
goons, screws, pigs and spooks
sayin cognizance aint to use
poor court ordered goofs so-abused
papists vowed in their delusions of grandeur
all you supposed ta think
...is white cop
expendable masses they say aint allowed ta know
while they call the pope pop
guardian protectors of tha white bred
they wanna make tha people brain dead
feds frivolous threats
tha number on your badge says zero
what you tryin' to be?
A super hero?
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
man who wears a hat sits still near the back unmoved by the world or the exposed breast of a statue (brain waves do not discharge through a fedora)
tag attached: bald is sanitary
oranges have more delicacy raw smelly and afterward singing allons enfants de patrie ding dang **** like that, all frog-ese so we don’t understand chanteused stiff basso profundo to excite to let us see with the clarity of a dream curled with hate set firm, firmer in the arms of a sleeveless girl then slung to sea level white as a leopard’s eye
remember its peroxide bathed, bleached inclined on the pillow just at the angle of expectancy without a hat sideward glance and the crippled heels of angels sparking down the hall
bulletin: young man willing to wear false beard to ease the pain for all
or trumpet blues broken played horizontal touched by seaweed hands in the light of boats (unfurled)
slowly
and the memory dies slowly half-forgotten, half-remembered
halved again
slowly
only
to begin
again
grim molecules of love
4.9k
"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all"
- Helen Keller
May mga taong tinutugis na parang mga hayop, may mga hayop na nagpapanggap na tao. Mga halimaw na nagaanyong pangkaraniwan. Ang mundo ay isang malaking gubat na punong-puno ng mga ganid sa laman, uhaw sa kapangyarihan at mga alipin na lumuluhod sa kinang ng salapi. Ang lupa ay hindi inilaan para sa mga mababait na tao, ito ay para sa mga ulol, imbi at mga tarantado. Ang mga baliw, sadista at mga putang-ina ang itinakdang maghari. Sa bawat yugto ng kasaysayan ay laging may pag-aaklas, ito na ang panahon nang pag-aalsa. Buksan ang isipan at gisingin ang natutulog na damdamin. Wakasan ang pang-aapi at pabagsakin ang nang-aapi. Sabi nga ni **** Abay "magkakaroon ng rebolusyon". Ngayon ang panahon nang pagbabangon, simulan natin sa ating sarili. Tularan natin ang mga bayani nang ang bayang nakalubog ay maka-ahon. Simulan natin sa tula upang gisingin si Juan sa malalim n'yang pagkakahimbing.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 9:23 PM UTC
To tell you the truth,I want to be just like them.
To have a talent, and a perfect em
I don't have to be a star, I just want to fit in.
I'm the f on the test, do have to say it again?
I messed it up, killed vitamin m
I'm a splintered piece, a shattered gem
I made you cry, I'm an onion stem
I'm the worst at my best, should I say it again?
Sing my anthem, sing along.
I promise you, you won't be wronged
So sing my anthem, and come along,
Failure my theme song
Oh...
Failure, failure, failure my theme song
Failure, failure, failure my theme song
Failure, failure, failure my theme song
Failure my theme song
Look a me, I'm not pretend
In a visual world, worth depends
I'm a mirror to the world, this is the end
I'm the lowest of all, slap me again!
I fight my past, will I ever win?
Infinite quest, where is my twin
I'm losing the fight, farewell my friend
I'm losing control, all I see are fiends
I'm failing again, ill never win
Sing my anthem, sing along.
I promise you, you won't be wronged
So sing my anthem, and come along,
Failure my theme song
Keep on going, the battle's prolonged
Ring the bells, ding **** ding ****
Fly a kite, the string so long
Who choked the worst, I'll do them wrong!
Failure my theme song
Oh Failure my theme song
Failure, failure, failure my theme song
Failure, failure, failure my theme song
Failure, failure, failure my theme song
Failure my theme song
Worthless, useless, ignorant, freak,
Just accept it, this is me
Stupid, idiot, nerdy geek
I've always wondered my destiny
I'm a failure, don't you see?
You sang my anthem, you sang along (you sang my song)
I promised you, you wouldn't be wronged
So you sang my anthem, and came along
Failure our theme song...
Sing my anthem, sing along.
I promise you, you won't be wronged
So sing my anthem, and come along,
Failure my theme song
Keep on going, the battle's prolonged
Ring the bells, ding **** ding ****
Fly a kite, the string so long
They choked the worst, I did them wrong!
Failure my theme song
Imprisonment, we'll be amongst
Dancing free, chained sarong
I know my place, tempted strong
I'm Zelkova, not a currajong
Failure my theme song
Oh failure our theme song
Failure, failure, failure my theme song
Failure, failure, failure my theme song
Failure, failure, failure my theme song
Failure my theme song
Oh failure my theme song
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
Ta-ta Norma Drainpipe
Though I never shagged you at all
You ****** the rhythm to ******* yourself
While those around you ate crow
They schlepped out of the cleavage
And they ********** into your crumpet
They ******* you on the rowing machine
And they copulated you **** your three *****
And it seems to me you tasted your *****
Like a cigarette lighter in the diarrhoea
Never knowing who to stick it out to
When the ooze congeal from the top drawer
And I would have liked to have had carnal knowledge of you
But I was just a twit
Your cigarette lighter exploded spew out long before
Your whiff never blewout
Stiffness was sticky
The gristliest fat part you ever nibbled
Hollywood cobbled together a wizzofrog
And ******** was the corkage you greased
Even when you conked out
Oh the lubricator still molested you
All the skeletons had to jabber
Was that Marilyn was ***** flashy the starkers
Ta-ta Norma Drainpipe
from the virginal wombat in the twenty—second ghetto
Who smells you as meat as above par than scatological
Olé! than frank our Marilyn Monroe
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
I
The Broom and the Shovel, the Poker and the Tongs,
They all took a drive in the Park,
And they each sang a song, Ding-a-dong, Ding-a-dong,
Before they went back in the dark.
Mr. Poker he sate quite upright in the coach,
Mr. Tongs made a clatter and clash,
Miss Shovel was all dressed in black (with a brooch),
Mrs. Broom was in blue (with a sash).
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
And they all sang a song!
II
'O Shovel so lovely!' the Poker he sang,
'You have perfectly conquered my heart!
'Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong! If you're pleased with my song,
'I will feed you with cold apple ****
'When you scrape up the coals with a delicate sound,
'You encapture my life with delight!
'Your nose is so shiny! your head is so round!
'And your shape is so slender and bright!
'Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
'Ain't you pleased with my song?'
III
'Alas! Mrs. Broom!' sighed the Tongs in his song,
'O is it because I'm so thin,
'And my legs are so long--Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
'That you don't care about me a pin?
'Ah! fairest of creatures, when sweeping the room,
'Ah! why don't you heed my complaint!
'Must you needs be so cruel, you beautiful Broom,
'Because you are covered with paint?
'Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
'You are certainly wrong!'
IV
Mrs. Broom and Miss Shovel together they sang,
'What nonsense you're singing to-day!'
Said the Shovel, 'I'll certainly hit you a bang!'
Said the Broom, 'And I'll sweep you away!'
So the Coachman drove homeward as fast as he could,
Perceiving their anger with pain;
But they put on the kettle and little by little,
They all became happy again.
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
There's an end of my song!
4.2k
**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy. As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures. Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being. Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the spunk. If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself. Fuck your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses. Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge. Cock sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man. Nevertheless let this not ********* you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion. Touch yourself. To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches. Neither be cheeky about ****** ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist. Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness. Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity. But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings. Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness. Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself. You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end. And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should. Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** intercourse. With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory. Stand pert. Die in the attempt to be boozed up.
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
There are some people,
Who will always do the right thing.
These are the people, though,
That seem to judge others, so harshly.
good people, you see things so clearly,
Too clearly.
Surely, one mistake, however monumental
Doesn't warrant condemnation, evermore?
I want to be with the baddies, right now, because I am one.
I feel like a pantomime villain.
I want to hang out with Snow White's evil stepmother, or the Ugly Sisters,
Down tequila with the Wicked Witch of the West.
Fit company, for me.
Not really,
I don't believe that, but in my darkest moments,
I do feel like a monster.
Whose moral code did I defy?
And does it matter? What does it matter,
I don't care what matters, any more.
Just call me Cruella, and **** me to Hell,
It's nothing I'm not doing to myself, already.
Drop a house on me,
(The ***** is dead)
Ding ****
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
*(Not a home, I said.
An address.
The badges and the blossoms
Bragged ‘excess’.
Etched into every tree
The word:
S U C C E S S)*
I am London
And he is me,
Not ever knowing which London to be,
A button eyed orphan,
A one man band,
A Dickensian madman
Whey-faced and untanned.
I was a Ruby Infant,
(Montpelier)
Via turreted school
(Machiavellian lair)
My conspiracy of ravens
The guardians of lore,
Falling in feathers
To a barbershop floor.
My mind is confetti -
From each Westminster wedding,
Each pill, each stumble,
A little be-heading.
I first kissed a girl in Trafalgar Square
And the memory of her is still there in the air,
In the backdrops of photographs snapped up by tourists,
In the lost eyes of pigeons,
(I know it, I’m sure of it -
because I know London
And he knows me -
We flow into each other
Like the Thames, to the sea).
Gobstopper ******** in Whitechapel lanes,
Knee-deep in the streets, leaving opal-ghost stains,
The bleeding graffiti of Mary Jane Kelly,
Our deaths, our murders,
So many, so many...
Bells,
Chiming,
Dark
Oubliettes,
Cradle me, London,
My bowed silhouette,
Settle me down
in your newspaper bed,
Love me,
Watch over me,
And when I am dead,
Make me a martyr,
Smooth out my head
Swallow me up in your gum studded streets,
Somewhere busy where I can feel millions of feet
Treading into me,
Over and
Over again,
And every so often, now and then,
Play out your bells for my syllables four,
*Ding **** ding ****
Four and no more,
To remind yourself, London,
Of silly old me,
Who like you,
Never knew,
Which London to be.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 10:56 AM UTC
Jared and Ashwin, sitting on a tree;
Blazing it up with a **** on their *** pees.
Don't sleep on me, cuz I got a big ****
Slamming that hoe's *** like it's ping pong.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
Acerbic antagonist alliterates agonizing accusations,
blasting ******* backbiter butting beautiful bombastic brainy blond bomb.
Cumulative cranial casualties cease caveman's cognitive coherence.
Doom digger derides Daddy's dangling dire dreary ****
Eclectic esoteric eccentric egotistical estranger;
Forthcoming fathoms fetch faithless fleeting father.
God given goblins gather gossamer ganglions;
Hell's hairy harlot harpies hover heeding Hyperion.
Ignatius imbibes irrevocably insisting,
"Jesus juggles justice's joy jarring jams."
Kindness kindles Kilimanjaro;
Malicious mountains melt, Mmm, morning marjoram.
Nothing negates Neanderthal ninnying.
Overt obsessions obfuscate original object of
purest passions, paltry past pinings,
quickly quieted, quelled,
resisted, relinquished, readily, ruefully, roundly
saturated, suffocated; surreptitiously silenced,
terribly torturing the thrashed tamed tormentor:
Ugly, ungrateful, unapologetic,
Vanity,
woefully wallowing, wailing, "Where's
Xanadu's
zeitgeist!?"
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
I know I didn't treat a lot you right
I'm a closed book with a big bad padlock on it
maybe you could say trust issues
but **** it I love you guys
no ****
(maybe a little)
because no matter where or how I have been
I have had some great people there for me
to keep me walking along that tight rope
without the fear of a body full of broken bones
We climbed hay bales in Drax
and ran away from the farmer in his combine harvester
we let everybody's tires down
and we went to the club and stayed until closing time
until after there were no taxis left
walking four miles home at four in the morning
we had a laugh mate
And to my Yankee friends
The rest of the world may hate you
but I don't
(much)
video games all night
ding **** ditch
homecoming and prom
and smoking cigarettes behind best buy
whole days spent on a couch laughing harder than we were high
the bowl we bought together
aptly named Willem Defoe
Marathon movie nights
post virginity loss high fives
telling me you were proud of me
for how I handled my parents' almost divorce
And I'm a cynical, ******* introvert
and at times I never want to see a human being ever again
but when that feeling fades
you guys are the first people I text
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
On the top of the Crumpetty Tree
The Quangle Wangle sat,
But his face you could not see,
On account of his ****** Hat.
For his Hat was a hundred and two feet wide,
With ribbons and bibbons on every side
And bells, and buttons, and loops, and lace,
So that nobody every could see the face
Of the Quangle Wangle Quee.
The Quangle Wangle said
To himself on the Crumpetty Tree, --
"Jam; and jelly; and bread;
"Are the best of food for me!
"But the longer I live on this Crumpetty Tree
"The plainer than ever it seems to me
"That very few people come this way
"And that life on the whole is far from gay!"
Said the Quangle Wangle Quee.
But there came to the Crumpetty Tree,
Mr. and Mrs. Canary;
And they said, -- "Did every you see
"Any spot so charmingly airy?
"May we build a nest on your lovely Hat?
"Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that!
"O please let us come and build a nest
"Of whatever material suits you best,
"Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!"
And besides, to the Crumpetty Tree
Came the Stork, the Duck, and the Owl;
The Snail, and the Bumble-Bee,
The Frog, and the Fimble Fowl;
(The Fimble Fowl, with a corkscrew leg;)
And all of them said, -- "We humbly beg,
"We may build out homes on your lovely Hat, --
"Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that!
"Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!"
And the Golden Grouse came there,
And the Pobble who has no toes, --
And the small Olympian bear, --
And the **** with a luminous nose.
And the Blue Baboon, who played the Flute, --
And the Orient Calf from the Land of Tute, --
And the Attery Squash, and the Bisky Bat, --
All came and built on the lovely Hat
Of the Quangle Wangle Quee.
And the Quangle Wangle said
To himself on the Crumpetty Tree, --
"When all these creatures move
"What a wonderful noise there'll be!"
And at night by the light of the Mulberry moon
They danced to the Flute of the Blue Baboon,
On the broad green leaves of the Crumpetty Tree,
And all were as happy as happy could be,
With the Quangle Wangle Quee.
3k
Swrgiding dwima dwisa
gaigra mai dubli
benw jwngni gami
Goi patwini bari
~
no no mai bakri
maihung **** mwswo goli
benw jwngni gami
gwmkangw magw-bwisagu
~
dwikorniprai dwi kaonai
nosim janjiyao paperna labwnai
benw jwngni gami
grwm grwm raijw janai
~
swrangsi swrangsi daola gesernai
hal huronlangnai
benw jwngni gami
hal kodaljwng abad maonai
-
bari kona kona mwigongni bari
lai lapa baidi mulani
benw jwngni gami
angkal gwiya megong taigongni
~
mandir girja bathou puja
switw jwngni sibisali
benw jwngni gami
goi taijow kantal bari mungni.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 1:46 AM UTC
Tell me where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourishèd?
Reply, reply.
It is engender’d in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring Fancy’s knell:
I’ll begin it,—Ding, **** bell.
All. Ding, **** bell.
2.8k
gliding over the piano keys
hitting all the right combinations
the receiver drifting off helped by smoke circles
wiping the face
settling in
sitting deeper
circle the glass edge
soaked in oak mixed water
burning wood crackles
fire a visual trap
slowly sifting trough the past
regret and pride equally rememberd
the ghost visit one by one all before midnight
ding **** the old clock answers the tears
the journey been long
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 5:42 AM UTC
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them—
Ding-dong, bell!
2.5k
Ladies, in thier ballgowns wade,
thier masks they have made,
so they wade across the ballroom floor,
for the sign on the,
Big. Brass. Door,
a masquerade, it reads,
A Masquerade.
The men,
ready in blazers and tuxes,
wearing thier masks,
awaiting thier midnight mistress,
thier...sexy seductress.
Then, the man in black and white,
guides his mistress inder the moonlight,
for a dance, perhaps a kiss,
at the stroke of midnight.
At midnight, the clock sounds,
and all you see is the spinning of gown after gown.
Ding. **** Ding. ****
the sound becomes a beat,
ready and awaiting the eager dancers feet.
Ding. **** Ding. ****
the couples dance, but not for long,
for this...
this is the, Last. Song.
Ding. **** Ding. ****
At the end of this song,
the men and women,
reveal themselves, and at long last,
they shed thier masks.
Then the man in black and white,
grasps his ladies hand, and holds it tight,
then he gets down, on his knee,
and her gasp...
brings an end to this story.
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 12:53 AM UTC
apple sauce an cherry pie
on this christmas day .
rosie cheeks an turttle
dove .
as the children
play .
apple sauce an cherry pies.
share the love an joy.
on this christmas day.
peace an love to all
on this special day .
apple sauce an cherry pies.
hold my hand my love
dance with me my love.
apple sauce an cherry pie
on this christmas day.
ding **** hear the bell play
hear children sing .
i wish the world a merry
christmas an share the love
peace an hope an giveing.
an god bless the world .
all girl an boy .
on this christmas day .
apple sauce an cherry pies
A SONG READ THREE TIME S AN SING THAT THE SONG
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 6:42 PM UTC