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"dykes" poems
The ground bubbled  neath, February's  awakening stoic crocuses stood water  deep, so that capriciousness was revealed The  fill *****  over flowed. So  certain the path walked she  wove aconites into  her  hair   to unghost the prevailing snowdrops. The  dogwood a resplendent beacon vies to complete the cycle .
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Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC
February toil.
Hunting has a noble heritage, for sure Bringing us together, it forged a species Keen-eyed, communicative, feared by the fierce                So who am I to begrudge you your sport? I, too, love wide open skies, tramping over bog and fen, I even quite like dogs! I imagine nature might reveal herself to you In signs jealously guarded from the armchair carnivore. I can almost reconcile your harsh percussion With the croak of the raven, the sloshing tide And the chewing and mooing of cattle. But the pheasant!  For the love of God, the pheasant? It can hardly be a battle of wits! I've seen him as he sits, a big, red bullseye On fences and ***** Startled by every day he survives. How stirring can it be, Picking off the ones the cars and lorries never got? When you carry him home, Better off dead, Hang him in your garage for a week Feeling like Henry VIII, Cut him down, slit him open and find the crop Stuffed not with heather shoots and beetles But with half a pound of store-bought grain (Generously laced with antibiotics) - I hope the realisation creeps up That you may as well have asserted yourself In the hen coop, Blasting away at befuddled poultry And saving yourself a walk.
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Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 1:33 AM UTC
The Pheasant
**IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA BASE FORTHWITH.  ALSO, ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS, SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS, WEBMASTERS, WEB BASED LINKS, WINKS, TWINKS, COLONEL CLINCKS, BOSSES, CO-WORKERS, EMPLOYEES, VENDORS, SUPPLIERS, SALESMEN, ASCCOUNT REPS/EXCS, ACCOUNTANTS, BROKERS, CO-BROKERS, HACKERS, SLACKERS, WHACKERS, JERKS, PIMPS, HOES, HOBOS, BUMS, DERELICTS, DEGENERATES, DOPERS, DEALERS, TWEEKERS, GAMBLERS, RAMBLERS, SOLICITORS, SIDEKICKS, COHORTS, WINGMEN, WHEELMEN, LOOKOUTS, OUTLAWS, IN-LAWS, RELATIVES, FIANCES, GIRLFRIENDS, BOYFRIENDS, FAMILY, FRIENDS, ENEMIES, EVIL NEMISIS', CANVASSERS, INQUIRERS, QUEERS, QUEENS, COWBOYS, KINGS, **** DRAGS, HAGS, HETEROS, HOMOS, TONY ROMOS, FEMALE IMPERSONATORS, (PRE OR POST) MALE IMPERSONATORS, ***** ***** VAN ***** **** VAN **** LESBIANS, LIARS, BUYERS, CRYERS, CIGAR SMOKERS, CARPET MUNCHERS, RUG RATS, TODDLERS, TEENAGERS, YOUNGSTERS, SENIORS, SUCKERS, TRUCKERS, MOTHER shut yer mouth, LAW MAKERS, LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS, JUDGES, POLITICIANS, PECKERWOODS, LEADERS, FOLLOWERS, DISCIPLES, PROPHETS, EVANGELISTS, SAVIORS, SINNERS, SAINTS, SOOTHSAYERS, MEDICINE MEN, GYPSYS, TRAMPS, AND THIEVES, WITCHES, WARLOCKS, VAMPIRES, LYCANS, ZOMBIES, WAR MONGERS, PROTESTERS, SOLIDERS, GENERALS, GOVERNORS, PRESIDENTS, PATRIOTS, PACKERS, LIONS, BEARS, BROWNS, BLACKHAWKS, REDWINGS, RIGHT WING, LIBERALS, OR LAW BIDING CITIZENS, THEY ARE NOT TO CONTACT ME AND LOOSE MY NUMBER. BUT IF YOU SEE MY MOM, TELL HER TO CALL ME. ........................................................................BA-ZING....................................................................**
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Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
SPAMMER SMACKDOWN
**IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA BASE FORTHWITH.  ALSO, ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS, SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS, WEBMASTERS, WEB BASED LINKS, WINKS, TWINKS, COLONEL CLINCKS, BOSSES, CO-WORKERS, EMPLOYEES, VENDORS, SUPPLIERS, SALESMEN, ASCCOUNT REPS/EXCS, ACCOUNTANTS, BROKERS, CO-BROKERS, HACKERS, SLACKERS, WHACKERS, JERKS, PIMPS, HOES, HOBOS, BUMS, DERELICTS, DEGENERATES, DOPERS, DEALERS, TWEEKERS, GAMBLERS, RAMBLERS, SOLICITORS, SIDEKICKS, COHORTS, WINGMEN, WHEELMEN, LOOKOUTS, OUTLAWS, IN-LAWS, RELATIVES, FIANCES, GIRLFRIENDS, BOYFRIENDS, FAMILY, FRIENDS, ENEMIES, EVIL NEMISIS', CANVASSERS, INQUIRERS, QUEERS, QUEENS, COWBOYS, KINGS, **** DRAGS, HAGS, HETEROS, HOMOS, TONY ROMOS, FEMALE IMPERSONATORS, (PRE OR POST) MALE IMPERSONATORS, ***** ***** VAN ***** **** VAN **** LESBIANS, LIARS, BUYERS, CRYERS, CIGAR SMOKERS, CARPET MUNCHERS, RUG RATS, TODDLERS, TEENAGERS, YOUNGSTERS, SENIORS, SUCKERS, TRUCKERS, MOTHER shut yer mouth, LAW MAKERS, LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS, JUDGES, POLITICIANS, PECKERWOODS, LEADERS, FOLLOWERS, DISCIPLES, PROPHETS, EVANGELISTS, SAVIORS, SINNERS, SAINTS, SOOTHSAYERS, MEDICINE MEN, GYPSYS, TRAMPS, AND THIEVES, WITCHES, WARLOCKS, VAMPIRES, LYCANS, ZOMBIES, WAR MONGERS, PROTESTERS, SOLIDERS, GENERALS, GOVERNORS, PRESIDENTS, PATRIOTS, PACKERS, LIONS, BEARS, BROWNS, BLACKHAWKS, REDWINGS, RIGHT WING, LIBERALS, OR LAW BIDING CITIZENS, THEY ARE NOT TO CONTACT ME AND LOOSE MY NUMBER. BUT IF YOU SEE MY MOM, TELL HER TO CALL ME. ........................................................................BA-ZING....................................................................**
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4
you say i'm a ***** but you're a misogynist who thinks ***** is the worst thing you can be but it's not like you're smart, and you don't have a heart, so drive your *** back to D.C. the government thinks it's funny, they have all the power and money ha, honey, let me tell you: your power is nothing, if you don't have that something that your people are willing to fight for you kick down the poor and bully the weak it's no wonder we hate the words that you speak and you're not concerned, but the people have learned we're more clever than you and i think you know it too and you will  never understand the courage of a desperate man so here's to the ******* the ******* the ***** the homeless, the hungry; who can't stand this country because of the white men who think they're in charge well it's time for a change; this needs to end, you must make amends because the ones you used to spite? well we've got some bite and we're ready to fight because we're not all men and we're not all white so clean off your glasses and get off of your ***** boy, are you in for a show i think you know where this is going; our power is growing and everyone knows how this ends the villains will lose and we will pull through don't underestimate this group of friends because sure i'm a ***** but i get **** done **** with me and i'll **** with you the roles have reversed, turns out there is something worse now look who's holding the gun
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Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 9:08 PM UTC
*****
sticks and stones may break my bones (but words will never hurt me) people stare when we hold hands, they glare and point and scream in whispers behind cupped palms. sometimes they applaud or congratulate us, but i hate that, too; i don't want to be brave or strong or special i just want to kiss you without glancing left and right first. boys in parking lots shout and whistle, cars honk but WE'RE RUBBER YOU'RE GLUE, IT BOUNCES OFF US AND STICKS TO YOU so guess what- you're the ***** you're the ******* you're the freaks, you have to change the pronouns in your poetry, you are afraid of churches, you were listed in The Diagnostic And Statistical Manual Of Mental Disorders as a "sociopathic personality disturbance" until its seventh edition. if i had a nickel for every time a mother hurried a child away from us on the street, i might have enough money to sue one or two of you for harassment and hate. s.h.
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Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
sticks & stones
***** ***** in denim They cut your heart when you let them Those ***** ***** Da da da da der ***** ***** ***** Da da da da der ***** Now Karen was a cutie Had her man and a ***** She kissed her man off And then he beat her She found a girlfriend They went to heaven Because those ***** ***** in denim Rip your thing when you let them Those ***** ***** Da da da da der ***** ***** ***** Da da da da der ***** Now Donna was a queenie She licked her way to the fifties She found a woman who had a plastic Way up inside her It was fantastic She loved those ***** ***** in denim They'll turn you on if you can catch one Those ***** ***** Da da da da der ***** ***** ***** Da da da da der *****
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
***** ***** In Denim
We transgenders are not ***** nor ******* We transgenders are not tools, nor autistic or ******** It is not funny to spit at us. Or stick notes on our back. It is not funny to misgender us, or harass and assault. It is like we are a fish out of water. Watching everyone swim. As we suffocate and die. See, we transgenders are just like you. And you see, We all speak it. The truth.
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Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 2:04 PM UTC
We, Transgenders
The struggle is real So I've been told The homie told me yesterday Licks had to be made eating with our enemies sleeping with the Devil But, Expect them not to be evil Broke ***** on the strip Gay Brothas Suckin **** **** ***** licking ***** ***** is you really gay Or need a sponsor for your ******* kid Now tell me aint that some **** Everybody wanna be sucka free so we say the sweet lovers just thirsty the dog nighas Got flex game see Pipe it up , Shut it down, Light it up Smoking loud in big crowds Crazy girls and wild ****** Broke ******* styling and profiling Living in hotels and wiling For that dolla , she'll let you holla , hit and even spit
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Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
The struggle is real
***** Aren't you a big shrike? Those ***** are lady-like And we can talk freely about other women and its not awkward What's not to like? Get that pike Out of your rear Because it's apparent That you are not easy to like By the way you label people nastily It's not appealing any way.
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Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 3:09 AM UTC
You Mean Ladies?
protesting ***** down w/ this & that; neo-Nazis marching waving weird geek flags worshiping white people from space; Pride Marches celebrating golden underwear & too much lipstick; macho ***** ******* yelling it out; Slutwalking through downtown challenging **** & mysogyny dressed as ugly Barbies; gender color trans light a joint & sit on the grass smoking lovely, got my kpop, got my g/bf; Toni, Tony, Antoinette, Anthony; neo-Nazis rushing headlong back into the dustbin of history; prostitutes pretend to be fembots; acting like brainless machines unless smart as Jeopardy contestants; ****** cosplay fetish, no cash, no crime; no crime, no cops; no war
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Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
protesting *****
Everyone   is born pure,     I think. Imagine red-hot   ****** metal. Clay is given to two   people. Two. Sometimes one person leaves.   The metal is too hot.   Hey, this isn't for me, he or she says.   Shame if it's the mom. Push it out. Check out   of the heartbreak motel.   But it's all the same, I suppose:   Mom or dad. Red-hot ****** metal,   sitting at the playground. Teacher says,   Play with the other kids. Teacher says,   Does the world seem big     because it's so scary? Teacher says,   What is your nature? Teacher says,   Play with the other kids--     think of it as       networking.   Time to graduate. You ******* queer,   said the news. Yeah you,   said the news. Look over here,   said the news. Bombs, **** ******* ******* ***** spics, ****** school shootings, drugs, suicide, famine, STDs, rap music, Jews, Obama, Putin, North Korea, Ferguson,   said the news. By the way,   said the news. Have you seen   Miley Cyrus' nip slip,   said the news. Graduation night.   Rumbling 'round the warm, bath water   city lights. Her hand in his.   She looks over, What is your nature? I had a teacher   ask me that, he said. They ****** underneath   an apple tree. This is what the rain is for.   What? This is what the rain is for.   To get us wet? No, ********   Because I already     had you wet. Ha-ha. Very funny...     No, it's for washing away       memories of ***         under a tree. Birth. Two people. Two.   Let's name him, she said.   Let's fail him, he said.
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
birth
Everyone   is born pure,     I think. Imagine red-hot   ****** metal. Clay is given to two   people. Two. Sometimes one person leaves.   The metal is too hot.   Hey, this isn't for me, he or she says.   Shame if it's the mom. Push it out. Check out   of the heartbreak motel.   But it's all the same, I suppose:   Mom or dad. Red-hot ****** metal,   sitting at the playground. Teacher says,   Play with the other kids. Teacher says,   Does the world seem big     because it's so scary? Teacher says,   What is your nature? Teacher says,   Play with the other kids--     think of it as       networking.   Time to graduate. You ******* queer,   said the news. Yeah you,   said the news. Look over here,   said the news. Bombs, **** ******* ******* ***** spics, ****** school shootings, drugs, suicide, famine, STDs, rap music, Jews, Obama, Putin, North Korea, Ferguson,   said the news. By the way,   said the news. Have you seen   Miley Cyrus' nip slip,   said the news. Graduation night.   Rumbling 'round the warm, bath water   city lights. Her hand in his.   She looks over, What is your nature? I had a teacher   ask me that, he said. They ****** underneath   an apple tree. This is what the rain is for.   What? This is what the rain is for.   To get us wet? No, ********   Because I already     had you wet. Ha-ha. Very funny...     No, it's for washing away       memories of ***         under a tree. Birth. Two people. Two.   Let's name him, she said.   Let's fail him, he said.
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80
Eloise in a Christmas tree, swinging a straight razor at the children below.   Never held enough as a baby.   Never in love just a maybe. Eloise's father in the living room, drinking the news.   Those ******* ******* and *****   he screams. Never held enough   as a baby. His mother smelled of   a late night and pineapple blend ***** Eloise popping Prozac like Tic-Tacs.   Fantasizing about shooting the school body. You sonuvabitch, her father screamed. He penetrated-- She screamed   and writhed. Wrists held. Body pressed. Beans and toast   for dinner. Mom left dad because dad   isn't big enough or makes enough money. Enough. Enough. Enough. Eloise was supposed to be a miscarriage. Her dad lost some toes when he missed a log.   Chop, the axe said. The world is a swinging place. Whispering in the dark. A hushed frenzy.   Mix and **** out, her gun let out a shout. Eloise, queen of the   student mass grave. Eloise's father turns on the news. He drinks liquor instead. Eloise on the t-v. Oh, woe is me. He went to the shed   and blew his head clean off. The world is a swinging place. The world in a frenzy.
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 1:16 AM UTC
Frenzy
I've gone about my day only truly half-present, as with every conversation, regardless of with whom, I force myself to promote my image of simple bliss and to keep your name at bay, and only have managed to hold it on just the inside of my lips. It still presses on, like a flooding at the ***** that in time shall burst forth anyway. I feel that, as our recent moments together linger deliberately in the recesses of my head, if I left my mouth unguarded for even a brief time your name would dance off my tongue like the sweetest confession declared in those screened-up boxes at catholic church and then all of the world would know of the sinful treasure I'm hoarding inside my heart. And it would perhaps be but a whisper, but it'd feel like I've shouted it for hours from the hilltop at the end of my street, calling attention to everyone I've  never known and screaming the sudden proverbial anomaly of my new found love in you with shameless, reckless abandon. If I could reach into myself I'd find a restless sea of unsorted emotion thrashing about, trying to capsize my poor, prevailing heart as it chugs along like a dazed animal treading water; I'm turning over the thorough avidity in how affectionately we ask to turn out each other's pockets and uncover each lingering quirk and flavor of one another. I carry along, holding myself not quite as tall as Cloud Nine sits but just enough to breathe in the scent of the rainbows, and it's all because I know that if I stopped living my day for just a moment, I'd recall the fortune I've found in you, and that alone fills me up like I've just put in fifty dollars at the gas station. What's made you so special?
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Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
Whatever My Heart Spews
I've gone about my day only truly half-present, as with every conversation, regardless of with whom, I force myself to promote my image of simple bliss and to keep your name at bay, and only have managed to hold it on just the inside of my lips. It still presses on, like a flooding at the ***** that in time shall burst forth anyway. I feel that, as our recent moments together linger deliberately in the recesses of my head, if I left my mouth unguarded for even a brief time your name would dance off my tongue like the sweetest confession declared in those screened-up boxes at catholic church and then all of the world would know of the sinful treasure I'm hoarding inside my heart. And it would perhaps be but a whisper, but it'd feel like I've shouted it for hours from the hilltop at the end of my street, calling attention to everyone I've  never known and screaming the sudden proverbial anomaly of my new found love in you with shameless, reckless abandon. If I could reach into myself I'd find a restless sea of unsorted emotion thrashing about, trying to capsize my poor, prevailing heart as it chugs along like a dazed animal treading water; I'm turning over the thorough avidity in how affectionately we ask to turn out each other's pockets and uncover each lingering quirk and flavor of one another. I carry along, holding myself not quite as tall as Cloud Nine sits but just enough to breathe in the scent of the rainbows, and it's all because I know that if I stopped living my day for just a moment, I'd recall the fortune I've found in you, and that alone fills me up like I've just put in fifty dollars at the gas station. What's made you so special?
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6
I love the way you touch my skin and smile in the face of sin gliding, graceful fingertips I need your soft kiss on my lips Our chances at heaven are at this point risky but hell's just gonna be one big party I'd rather kiss ***** in blazing hell than sit in heaven under God's dull spell Let our lipstick mix as we sweetly disgrace the crusafix; what's more divine than the way our fingers intertwine as we watch the moon shine and drink satan's red, red wine
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Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 8:40 PM UTC
divine
That tree it swings and blows and loves to show the comes and goes wanderers and glasses cases with altruistic basses let it go let it flow drip drip down pails of silt for building ***** all of them, fending off hurricane storms and flooding waters roll up your jeans baby it's wet out today muggy and watery what's the state of our affairs? He said he wanted one but only in his head, I think I wanted him to want an anything with moi just a silly old anything that involved his naked body but he can't do that can he? I don't know I'm too afraid to look too excited to keep my eyes shut so where does that leave off? Frozen with hormones and confusion anticlimaxes burning my brain his loss could have been the best thing he ever bragged or regretted who cares not me not him not the ones holding off the storms and the thorns not the glint in my eye that proclaims the day is good so long as I can breathe and then and then it comes and goes and so it shows I need a better use of my rhyme.
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May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
Boom Went the Kryptonite
You funny. I can be funny too. I've got a functioning funny bone, just like you. Watch me hit it on this thing. Ouch! Hey, wasn't that funny though? Didn't you see? Let me tell you a joke: There once was this guy who set out to type a joke, but halfway through it his funny bone broke! Ouch. This one time, I traded cigarettes for jokes with a few of the homeless folk who live in Orlando. I was still in high school then, but I can still remember how they went! Well, actually, I can only recall two of them. They go like this: "If you have fifty ***** and fifty politicians in the same room, then what do you have?" "Um, I don't know." "A hundred people who don't know **** about **** Hahahahahahaha "What do you call a *** on roller blades?" "Hmm, no idea." "Rolaids!"
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Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
That's Innaproperit!
Women i love you for your boisterousness  and softness too, harshest lighting notwithstanding  You are poems of poems of poems in moonlight beneath crimson moons encouraging mystery Women your sanguinary allure holds me never but your pernicious sorrows are as captivating as ever You are goddesses and ****** and archetypes all the same from salon to Wal-Mart to the Barnes up the Parkway to the Zoo Wymyn you are ***** on bykes leather lesbian jackets and caresses of chains silent cervixes smattered and schmeared  Ladies your parts are none of my business and my love's too Western for that nonsense but I wish them all good health and plumbing  Listen sisters, allow me some gravy for respecting the curvature without ever needing to ride like Sally into orbit Your ******* are thousands of temptations to many men but I'm only enamoured by your foreign policy experience Women you know how to know what's what and make yourselves muses and heroines  perfecting heterosexual enchantment forever Hey ladies let's be friends and not so secretly plot for you to really start conquering the world, ok?
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Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
Hello Ladies
We got some dead queers here they're messing up the floor Too many ***** too many ******* ******* don't get me started on the trans* We need to move our cars and stroll the walk with ignorant future tagalongs More than need to care To say, ******* speak up We got some dead queers here, No ******* problem
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Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
Dead Queers: "Future Corpses"
I was sitting on the curb Waiting to see the people who were just like me Mom was explaining things to me My brother felt like he was home. That these were his people. Inside my head, I'm screaming these are my family. On the outside, I'm watching all the people walk across the street. Hear the rev of motorcycles. Hear comes the ***** on Bikes Girls who I thought were boys Didn't really know what a **** was Until I looked into the street. Man. That duct tape had to hurt when they took it off their skin. Looking back at that day I barely knew anything. Hell, I barely knew the what "You'll live like a ***** babe." meant. Things were never hard just because I was Gay. Relationships are what made my life Hell. A Year Ago Tomorrow Was the day I found it wouldn't be the same again. A Year Ago Tomorrow Marks the day I came to terms with who I really was.
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Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 3:03 AM UTC
A Year Ago Tomorrow
"If you don't wanna' lick my ****** that's fine, but don't attack my character." Said the lesbian in the reality TV show. ! She's holding a red plastic cup, slurring like a drunk. She is profound. If I called her gay I think she'd say **** you, *** I'm a **** I might point out that **** and ***** are gay; she, perhaps, would then remind me that after Katelynn or katelinn or however Bruce spelled his new name for a brief period in 2016 LGBT had a Q added to the tail-end... but 4 letters is the max allotment for tagging a community and the Q simply took the splash and the roll off the LGBT brand... ... and thus the Q was dropped; and thus the order of the world restored; and thus, on the very last minute of the 6th day, the Lord's final gift to man and life in general on planet earth was a raging ********* in the form of a drunk lesbian educating us all on the fine merits of keeping one's ****** wet BECAUSE a dry ****** can only belong to - nay! exist as far as the reality star would have you believe... vaginas exist onto themselves, though science has deduced with unquestionable Puritan certainty - despite the very Words Written by The Very Good Lord's Hand himself in The Holy Bible as Interpreted by the Most Wholly Holy Puritanical preacher preaching from Jerusalem to L.A. itself - Vaginas (cap the V, it's a she and she's a noun) most definitely and defiantly belong to mammals only; However should they be dry then said mammal most-probably has a questionable reputation and a clearly corrupt character.
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Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 7:47 PM UTC
Dry Vaginas; they surely belong to mammals with clearly corrupt character
"If you don't wanna' lick my ****** that's fine, but don't attack my character." Said the lesbian in the reality TV show. ! She's holding a red plastic cup, slurring like a drunk. She is profound. If I called her gay I think she'd say **** you, *** I'm a **** I might point out that **** and ***** are gay; she, perhaps, would then remind me that after Katelynn or katelinn or however Bruce spelled his new name for a brief period in 2016 LGBT had a Q added to the tail-end... but 4 letters is the max allotment for tagging a community and the Q simply took the splash and the roll off the LGBT brand... ... and thus the Q was dropped; and thus the order of the world restored; and thus, on the very last minute of the 6th day, the Lord's final gift to man and life in general on planet earth was a raging ********* in the form of a drunk lesbian educating us all on the fine merits of keeping one's ****** wet BECAUSE a dry ****** can only belong to - nay! exist as far as the reality star would have you believe... vaginas exist onto themselves, though science has deduced with unquestionable Puritan certainty - despite the very Words Written by The Very Good Lord's Hand himself in The Holy Bible as Interpreted by the Most Wholly Holy Puritanical preacher preaching from Jerusalem to L.A. itself - Vaginas (cap the V, it's a she and she's a noun) most definitely and defiantly belong to mammals only; However should they be dry then said mammal most-probably has a questionable reputation and a clearly corrupt character.
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3
Cornwallis Inn, Gothic Stone With Marble Floor Ways, A Small Lounge Area And A Bar Alongside. Road Weary And Thirsty We Belly Up To The Trough. A Drunkin' Patron Pulls Up A Stool, Too Drunk To Even Pay Attention To The ****** Gestures Or Our Body Language. He Overstays Any Sort Of Welcome That I Would Have Given Him. I Told The Barkeep I Was From Town But Haven't Been Here For Decades, That When I Had Left, The Town Wasn't More Than A Ghost Town In The Making. That The Land Of ***** And Orchards Would Dwarf The Town, Making It Only A Spot On The Map, Like The Stain Left By A Barfly On A Hot, Hot Day.
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Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
The Spider And The Barfly
Blocks of letters are placed carefully, one adjacent to the other, To construct a word like one does on a scrabble board. No, you don’t stop there. You hop on, emptying sandbags, converting them to blank-spaces Moving along to the next word, Starting from scratch Only with the additional constraints The previous word’s meaning, tense and grammar. This recursive process goes on, And you rectify every teeny tiny error That may be buried somewhere. You do this in a jiffy and you reach that point in the game Where you show something you’ve conjured out of nowhere, To the person standing next to you. But no, you can’t do that as new walls emerge out of nowhere Squeezing your lips tighter than ever, severing every limb, ******* the life out of what you just created. Some words slither their way out Trying to stretch your lips, roll your tongue But they were born seconds ago You’ve asked too much from them already. Soon, the only remains are chopped words and mutilated letters And most of the times even worse- nothing. They become your sheepish grins, shivering hands, angry expletives, Fervent nods and deadpan ****** expressions. Sentences die, and the words go unspoken. Words which are spoken, are in the sounds of silence. Those unspoken words are powerful. They construct ***** with an infinite capacity That never lets your tears out of your eyes, Your fears out of the brain, and Your sears out of the heart. They mean nothing to the audience, and they mean everything to you. The things you could say, the things you would love to say, and yet, what did you actually say? More precisely, what didn’t you say?
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Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC
Sounds of Silence
Blocks of letters are placed carefully, one adjacent to the other, To construct a word like one does on a scrabble board. No, you don’t stop there. You hop on, emptying sandbags, converting them to blank-spaces Moving along to the next word, Starting from scratch Only with the additional constraints The previous word’s meaning, tense and grammar. This recursive process goes on, And you rectify every teeny tiny error That may be buried somewhere. You do this in a jiffy and you reach that point in the game Where you show something you’ve conjured out of nowhere, To the person standing next to you. But no, you can’t do that as new walls emerge out of nowhere Squeezing your lips tighter than ever, severing every limb, ******* the life out of what you just created. Some words slither their way out Trying to stretch your lips, roll your tongue But they were born seconds ago You’ve asked too much from them already. Soon, the only remains are chopped words and mutilated letters And most of the times even worse- nothing. They become your sheepish grins, shivering hands, angry expletives, Fervent nods and deadpan ****** expressions. Sentences die, and the words go unspoken. Words which are spoken, are in the sounds of silence. Those unspoken words are powerful. They construct ***** with an infinite capacity That never lets your tears out of your eyes, Your fears out of the brain, and Your sears out of the heart. They mean nothing to the audience, and they mean everything to you. The things you could say, the things you would love to say, and yet, what did you actually say? More precisely, what didn’t you say?
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I like to walk on tight ropes made of rainbow bacon in my mind Because deep below me, is everything I left behind And through I creep through time, so slowly and surely I rely so wholly on my insecurities Because they excuse me,   The absent quarters in my brain are filled and drained daily Like ***** , abused in the onset of the tide With hopes and ambitions and new dreams and ideas That are briskly And surely crushed in my sleep Aghast i gasp in the horror of my anatomy How poorly my blood vessles are fueled So I shall bleed them dry With out a doubt in my mind I am in the right Yet my heart beats so sourly when I fight For love Why am I so wrong Why is it that nothing goes to plan And they say failing to plan is planning to fail So I plan to fail so spectacularly they thought id planned it in the First Place Loosing grip on reality has its drawbacks, Mostly though The drawbacks stand, That their is no drawbacks Not one at hand So clasp me right, and rig me for full sail I've caught a gale my dear, And to the heart of the storm i shall sail
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Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
Drawbacks
i am not a politically correct person sometimes i call gay people **** or "dykes" not to hurt anyone's feelings but because that's how i was raised history has turned into a blame game one page forward, two pages back you say one thing, then change the fact once a victim, now on the attack now i don't even know how to act to be honest i feel uncomfortable around large groups of black people not because i misunderstand them but because they misunderstand me history has turned into a blame game one page forward, two pages back you say one thing, then change the fact once a victim, now on the attack now i don't even know how to act
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Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
one page forward, two pages back
dyke, spike in your heart heart suddenly stops till you make it start far, far too far away, shivering bye night holding tears in by day I hardly know you but I want you to be here i want you to stay and to hold you close **** I would do anything for you you know me and I don't know how, but you need me and I need you I can't eat and sleep without you and you are proof that I am not a **** and whats wrong with ***** anyway?
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
****