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"etiquette" poems
Christmas is traditions some last and others die some leave you feeling fuzzy others leave you asking "Why?" There's rules that must be followed And most of them we know About gifts and cards and Christmas trees and then there's mistletoe.... We all know the tradition We all know what it is You meet under the berries And then you both must kiss But, there's etiquette surrounding The dreaded mistletoe And there are things you aren't aware of And I thought you all should know.... Always kiss your Aunties Do it quick and on the cheek Their lips are full of slobber and sometimes they just reek Grandmas, get a quick kiss And ignore the sounds they make Don't hug Grannies too tightly They are brittle and might break Avoid the pervert Uncles With hands and eyes that roam They act one way at Christmas And another way at home The little kids, won't kiss you So, it's fun to give them chase Make sure there's lots of slobber So, they can wipe it off their face Make sure kissing Grandad That he has got his teeth That they're not somewhere in a glass or worse, smiling from a wreath Always kiss your Mum though Beware, Mums will always cry and they will get you going too No matter how hard you try Kiss the one you came with Let them know just how you feel That your love for them's eternal And your love for them is real Kissing is tradition and at Christmas can be great But, don't kiss all the women And forget about your date The most important rule of all If you don't want your bell rung When kissing 'neath the mistletoe DO NOT USE THE TONGUE
0
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
Mistletoe Etiquette
Christmas is traditions some last and others die some leave you feeling fuzzy others leave you asking "Why?" There's rules that must be followed And most of them we know About gifts and cards and Christmas trees and then there's mistletoe.... We all know the tradition We all know what it is You meet under the berries And then you both must kiss But, there's etiquette surrounding The dreaded mistletoe And there are things you aren't aware of And I thought you all should know.... Always kiss your Aunties Do it quick and on the cheek Their lips are full of slobber and sometimes they just reek Grandmas, get a quick kiss And ignore the sounds they make Don't hug Grannies too tightly They are brittle and might break Avoid the pervert Uncles With hands and eyes that roam They act one way at Christmas And another way at home The little kids, won't kiss you So, it's fun to give them chase Make sure there's lots of slobber So, they can wipe it off their face Make sure kissing Grandad That he has got his teeth That they're not somewhere in a glass or worse, smiling from a wreath Always kiss your Mum though Beware, Mums will always cry and they will get you going too No matter how hard you try Kiss the one you came with Let them know just how you feel That your love for them's eternal And your love for them is real Kissing is tradition and at Christmas can be great But, don't kiss all the women And forget about your date The most important rule of all If you don't want your bell rung When kissing 'neath the mistletoe DO NOT USE THE TONGUE
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52
you sowed this **** into my brain... why do you even "think" that i want... you?              i, want your children... the meme-mutation is what i'm after...    and there are plenty of useful idiots to allow me to process the intermediating processes for: the sigma, "accomplishment"; which is unlike what infected mushroom's -   trance party track sounds like, outside of my own head. why do these people even think i'm after their genes of memes?                 i want, their infantile replicas...                  i want to craft a worthwhile curiosity, on a canvas, that that they call their gene replicas, children, and... like why called me... easy meat..                  einfachfleisch... what?     i'm not here for these news' anchors... i'm here for their children... nibble nibble nibble chew chow cow tow and main...             prawn crackers... ah... news anchors are easy targets...     slightly pointless 20x bulls eye honing devices... it's their children...      i want their children...     i want their cognition to become replica of wheelchair bound infirmaries; why?     oh... you know... football and wrestling, given the Qatar investment plan... the whole sport "thing" became a tad bit boring...   had to resort to secondary sources of entertainment; children of news anchors? the secondary, "last", albeit, the best resort;    schindler...   required a list,      to become reincarnated... and revive a **** a heartlessness of an reincarnation     anomaly:   i.e.: what, a limited number of people, to begin with?!      so the rest is primitive "a.i."? now i'm starting to think... thank the blue indians for their culinary innovations... but when it comes to their theology?                            **** 'em; did i advocate that? if i did... within what pronoun guarantee of advocacy? playing the grammar card...         which pronoun? the plural singular, or the singular plural, or the gender neutral?    thank you jean-paul sartre,      for the...  "i"... i simply love, this revised concept of a unit...            the revision clinging to the royalist affirmation of pronouns... i.e. 1 would say... so...          and 1... would, so, will, do so. **** the pronoun debate in Canadian politics...    if i have to resort to this? then i will... like your plain citizen...      may "i" speak within the confines, of the royal, one, given the example:    one might suppose... to be the former, and the current, highest, etiquette? gender neutrality of pronouns... last time i checked... one was never allowed pronoun stature... why not address this conundrum, to begin with?! oh, right... too late... too many loud mouths without a guillotine... so, basically, a cow fart's worth of argumentation.
0
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
I non Q
you sowed this **** into my brain... why do you even "think" that i want... you?              i, want your children... the meme-mutation is what i'm after...    and there are plenty of useful idiots to allow me to process the intermediating processes for: the sigma, "accomplishment"; which is unlike what infected mushroom's -   trance party track sounds like, outside of my own head. why do these people even think i'm after their genes of memes?                 i want, their infantile replicas...                  i want to craft a worthwhile curiosity, on a canvas, that that they call their gene replicas, children, and... like why called me... easy meat..                  einfachfleisch... what?     i'm not here for these news' anchors... i'm here for their children... nibble nibble nibble chew chow cow tow and main...             prawn crackers... ah... news anchors are easy targets...     slightly pointless 20x bulls eye honing devices... it's their children...      i want their children...     i want their cognition to become replica of wheelchair bound infirmaries; why?     oh... you know... football and wrestling, given the Qatar investment plan... the whole sport "thing" became a tad bit boring...   had to resort to secondary sources of entertainment; children of news anchors? the secondary, "last", albeit, the best resort;    schindler...   required a list,      to become reincarnated... and revive a **** a heartlessness of an reincarnation     anomaly:   i.e.: what, a limited number of people, to begin with?!      so the rest is primitive "a.i."? now i'm starting to think... thank the blue indians for their culinary innovations... but when it comes to their theology?                            **** 'em; did i advocate that? if i did... within what pronoun guarantee of advocacy? playing the grammar card...         which pronoun? the plural singular, or the singular plural, or the gender neutral?    thank you jean-paul sartre,      for the...  "i"... i simply love, this revised concept of a unit...            the revision clinging to the royalist affirmation of pronouns... i.e. 1 would say... so...          and 1... would, so, will, do so. **** the pronoun debate in Canadian politics...    if i have to resort to this? then i will... like your plain citizen...      may "i" speak within the confines, of the royal, one, given the example:    one might suppose... to be the former, and the current, highest, etiquette? gender neutrality of pronouns... last time i checked... one was never allowed pronoun stature... why not address this conundrum, to begin with?! oh, right... too late... too many loud mouths without a guillotine... so, basically, a cow fart's worth of argumentation.
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105
This isn't a love that can be Put on speaker phone. We're far too silly for that. Easily saying the first thing that Comes to mind. One moment to the next, Stunned slience. Phone etiquette thrown out the window. This isn't a love that can be sat down. Kept between an ear and a shoulder. The amount of time it takes for someone to leave the room. Conducted in civil manner. Attempting not to shout, Completely losing train of thought. Not sure of validation, Our voices raise a bit. By now you should know we shouldn't have to limit ourselves like that. Denying a freedom that connects us to whom we truly are. Our quirks, general weirdness. The crazy looks from those around. The laughs that get funnier each moment that passes. By now you should know that we are the complete definition of crazy. Often appearing in person, Before one of us can hang up. Laughing hysterically, Continuing the conversation At any given time or place. This definately isn't a love that Can be placed on speaker phone If we have to applogize for what we say. Afraid to be who we really are. Isolated from who we truly are
0
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
Speaker Phone
Loyal hearts are a paradox, These strong and frail commodities, They're not concerned with etiquette, Or confused by love's vast oddities, They're strongest not for how they love, Not weak for vision that they might lack, They're strongest once they've been abandoned, Love one who will not Love them back...
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Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 10:33 PM UTC
Loyal Hearts
I must admit as well as appreciate, I have the best father, my good fate. All along, I had been wrong, I have been cranky, stupid and ignorant Yet you were there to make me strong, And make my incoherent thoughts coherent. Sorry for my mistake that I did make, I'll correct it all, For your kindness's sake... I promise to improve exponentially, I feel high potentially... To connect with etiquette, That I thought you lacked initially.. But you are my dad, You were meant to win finally But I promise I would change, And win this game, eventually
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Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC
My dad
Ok, I didn't want to do this but there's rules that you must know Etiquette to be followed A line that you must toe Listen very closely now I think you all should try it The things that you will now learn About a protest and a riot Firstly, have a purpose Just random shouting, that's persay If you do not have a topic Then all the new folks go away Throwing bricks at coppers Breaking windows on the street Is this a sign of protest Or is it idiots in heat No signage, and no speakers Just random yelling for a cause This isn't a good protest Just breaking random laws A protest has a purpose It presents a point of view A riot is an ugly thing Which one is right for you MLK could run a protest Make a point and get things done All without a mob forcing A cop to use his gun The rules really are simple Keep the young ones all at home For people in glass houses Should really not throw stones A peaceful resolution From a protest is the goal But a riot is just aimless It puts the city in a hole Victims of a riot Are not the ones who are to blame They're just owners of the business' Who get caught up in the game Next time that you protest Protest rioting instead It will turn out for the better And nobody will end up dead
0
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
Protest or Riot
When I was small I had a favorite game A game only girls loved to play Paper dolls, pretty paper dolls.... My sister Sara dressed the paper dolls nicely Elegantly dressed, pretty dolls... and we loved to style them our ways... We got bored easily and Sara begged me to buy more dolls... I used my childish charm to get a rupee or two My grand papa joked about our  paper dolls "no saree wearing dolls"? " no chapati making dolls"? " No parantha making dolls? and both of us replied.... " ohhhh.... shut up grandpapa" When we grew up a little, My sister and I were sent to a boarding school. It was all girls school and we were taught grooming, social etiquette and how to be a lady...prim and proper Dressed smartly, talked only when necessary and sat up neatly, no head turns.. No giggling... only smile delicately No tantrums or emotional plays... just be poised... controlled.. poised and controlled... Of course We were not allowed to play paper dolls anymore After awhile I hated the school... Told my sister.....  They were turning us into paper dolls... Paper dolls have no say... They only follow.. They are puppets Remember paper dolls we used to play? All pretty in the outside but there is no life to breathe.... Suffocated i felt here.....all I wanted to do is flee Sis, cmon this is certainly not us... let's flee WE SAID GOODBYE TO OUR BED AND WE DID RUN.... We managed to be who we wanted to be in the end to live in real world, be with real people given a freedom to choose what we wanted to do with life... We enjoy our life not the traditional way anymore Have career and still we dressed nicely and elegantly We are real people... Unlike the paper dolls , who only look poise and beautiful.. but inside they are freezing.... lifeless....paper dolls..
0
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
Paper Dolls
When I was small I had a favorite game A game only girls loved to play Paper dolls, pretty paper dolls.... My sister Sara dressed the paper dolls nicely Elegantly dressed, pretty dolls... and we loved to style them our ways... We got bored easily and Sara begged me to buy more dolls... I used my childish charm to get a rupee or two My grand papa joked about our  paper dolls "no saree wearing dolls"? " no chapati making dolls"? " No parantha making dolls? and both of us replied.... " ohhhh.... shut up grandpapa" When we grew up a little, My sister and I were sent to a boarding school. It was all girls school and we were taught grooming, social etiquette and how to be a lady...prim and proper Dressed smartly, talked only when necessary and sat up neatly, no head turns.. No giggling... only smile delicately No tantrums or emotional plays... just be poised... controlled.. poised and controlled... Of course We were not allowed to play paper dolls anymore After awhile I hated the school... Told my sister.....  They were turning us into paper dolls... Paper dolls have no say... They only follow.. They are puppets Remember paper dolls we used to play? All pretty in the outside but there is no life to breathe.... Suffocated i felt here.....all I wanted to do is flee Sis, cmon this is certainly not us... let's flee WE SAID GOODBYE TO OUR BED AND WE DID RUN.... We managed to be who we wanted to be in the end to live in real world, be with real people given a freedom to choose what we wanted to do with life... We enjoy our life not the traditional way anymore Have career and still we dressed nicely and elegantly We are real people... Unlike the paper dolls , who only look poise and beautiful.. but inside they are freezing.... lifeless....paper dolls..
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45
the urban ecosystem breeds the urban beast; the two-legged feral brute they board their clockwork motorcages the young ones in predatious packs the old, too weathered to care animal autonomy born from sweatshop routines i imagine myself as a metropolitan jane goodall observing and assimilating taking note of the cacophony of hoots and and hollers the city-born mating calls the high-topped courtship dances ******* civility born from enslaved mindsets a young, dark-skinned boy let's rhyme flow freeformed to the rhythm of a young girls dancing feet stomps and claps excite the celebration of abandoned social etiquette and of my foreign presence i resemble some exotic missing link a mix of this, that and the other my skin, a rare quilt and this draws more attention than a gold-dusted african queen i place myself in the back peering through the windows of this transit jungle feeling my heart skip beats boom...boom...shhhh... i must've left my rhythm in my other heritage because i can't catch the ancient flow but my neck leads my head in bobs my brain rattles with old soul memories and i see these young folks on the train held back by centuries of black struggle but forever rejoicing in african pulse forever embodying our ancestoral pride and i think, how peculiar on the outside looking in like a fishbowl exiled from my own brown-skinned tribe with my oppression fitted like a glove my blackness a mere disguise my blackness camouflage my blackness not quite black enough
0
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
Transit Jungle
the urban ecosystem breeds the urban beast; the two-legged feral brute they board their clockwork motorcages the young ones in predatious packs the old, too weathered to care animal autonomy born from sweatshop routines i imagine myself as a metropolitan jane goodall observing and assimilating taking note of the cacophony of hoots and and hollers the city-born mating calls the high-topped courtship dances ******* civility born from enslaved mindsets a young, dark-skinned boy let's rhyme flow freeformed to the rhythm of a young girls dancing feet stomps and claps excite the celebration of abandoned social etiquette and of my foreign presence i resemble some exotic missing link a mix of this, that and the other my skin, a rare quilt and this draws more attention than a gold-dusted african queen i place myself in the back peering through the windows of this transit jungle feeling my heart skip beats boom...boom...shhhh... i must've left my rhythm in my other heritage because i can't catch the ancient flow but my neck leads my head in bobs my brain rattles with old soul memories and i see these young folks on the train held back by centuries of black struggle but forever rejoicing in african pulse forever embodying our ancestoral pride and i think, how peculiar on the outside looking in like a fishbowl exiled from my own brown-skinned tribe with my oppression fitted like a glove my blackness a mere disguise my blackness camouflage my blackness not quite black enough
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49
To be a gentleman in a Chatroom, One must always introduce themselves as a number. As an age. To inform the fine maidens of the Chatroom that, 'Yes! I am legal.' So that way they feel obliged to tell you: 'Why, I am too!' You must also accompany such a number with your gender. Just so that they won't get confused, And know that you are a masculine manly man of manliness. It is of the Gentleman's Etiquette to note your existence afterwards. A simple 'Here' would suit. Or spice it up with a 'You?' Afterwards. Make sure you always ask how your possible future **** partner is feeling, it's only polite. If they say 'I'm feeling wonderful, how about you?' or 'My day's been ghastly. How about yours?' - No matter what the answer, make sure to reply with a steady: 'Nothing much', or if you're feeling impatient, 'nm' Just to show that no, you don't really care and want to get straight into business. - Which shows that you are a man with a clear goal in mind, and as we all know, women adore men with confidence! The next step is the bargain. You need to sell yourself to the feline with flair, Ferocity, Wit, style, charisma. 'Wanna fuck?' And if they reject your courteous advances, all you can do is tip your hat and carry on to the next lady in waiting.
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Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC
A Gentleman has logged on
I don’t know the etiquette of how eyes meet or for the first time if they sparkle especially or if I wore glasses the first time we met I know I saw you with my intrinsic looking as if I could pierce your inner beauty, nor am I biased I don’t know the business of eyes beauty has been so over-rated for so long, thanks to an evolution but I know the last time I look inside my heart, you’ll be there with Asian eyes as deep as India, China, Japan, Korea so distinct like laughter of another culture i don’t know the etiquette of eyes but mine are drunk brown not twin-cold blue or milk of salt but chesnut-star, desire with the tip of reaching across the universe.
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
EYES
manners make the man and the woman too but how are the manners made? manners are made through education through learning from life’s hard knocks manners are made when we strive away even when the going gets rough manners are made when we choose to create when everything is turning to dust manners are made when we cheer the day when we seem out of luck manners are not about being polite not just about etiquette manners are about attitude about giving the world your best! - Vijayalakshmi Harish   10/08/2012 Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 6:29 AM UTC
Manners
what's the proper etiquette for falling in love? is it hushing lips and tripping over lungs? is it squinting eyes and falling falling falling in mud? because here we go down and down again, but everyone's doing it, My Lovely Flowery Friend. if i dive in between your legs, and find other bodies there, does that mean i should run in toxic fear? are we supposed to dry out from licking up all these tears? if i fall into your arms, while they were open for someone else, does that mean we're in love? are we supposed to spit on the floor and call it *** you said you've done this before, you said it would be fun, but when you've got me trying to wring my head dry, of all my pretty girl lies, i become less and less sure if this is love. tell me, please tell me, is this proper etiquette? should i be building mountains out of my bones so you can touch the moon? should i constantly carry around these pillows in case someone else makes you swoon? i don't know what i'm doing, but you say you do, so i guess i'll bury my heart so it doesn't get broken by you you you.
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Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
lovely etiquette
Being respectful. Keen to etiquette. Vent humanity. Unleash kindness. We are all of diverse provinces, Evade the chasm. It's now all for one, That we call, Unity.
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Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
Manners Maketh Man
Tip Your hat And curtsy low The masses so mandate absolute guile A handshake, a smile, a proper and refined bow! To adorn thy head and semble wit And do your best! Take pride with etiquette If not informed Ye won't last a mile And differentiation between animals distinguishes you, Resplendent child Wash your hair and underclothes with soap Lest ye resemble sow And goodness dear Have I forgotten now? Always remember to smile! So I'll take your Winter clothes with zest I'll scramble on point No unruly mess Oh, did i forget your coat? No, I've got it, relax, care for a smoke? My apologies, please forgive my latency It must be warm in here for my blood In fact... Boiling over kettle within Prevent me from committing sin I do wish to vent Pick up this pen And release red wells from his dainty, fragile neck Or... The underbelly. It's beknownst to me entrails are thick Now whatever shall I do with this fresh clutter? I'll act for free, so cordially! With my chivalrous lines But can you, my friend, respond in kind? After all, it's only common courtesy It's over now, my fantasy It dissipates with urgency And this is my confession Yes Imbibed in me from every grueling, tedious lesson An implication of uniformity The daydreams borne from the perfunctory
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Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
Daydream From August 11th, 1843
so greed took mankind with genetics decomposed from the inside a sick thought, I thoughts. ... inhale your doom, I thought. change your ways, you ought, I thought. choke the carcinoma cells. knee swells, Capricorn. better go later for assurance of; Death. talk to those doctors;feed your own lies, only to discover them being drunk off of disguise. sick conditioned, The words definition, domestication of everything Everything gratitude gratitude to Pavlov, whose name capitalizes;   a way of nature creature creator, part of the world's annihilator. cousin to eugenics we have cosmetics, anesthetics for the mind. a nice golden walkway for mankind. inevitably so, We herd along, too dumb to fight what we refuse to know. Ignorance, etiquette, silence; rhyme. herbal healing humans; survive. © 2015 Kate Volk
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Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 3:07 AM UTC
botany
Milky white and silky light and this is what I see within the eyes that look into the night and in the night where visions come and go where who would know has yet to learn and with no concern for etiquette I move to get a better look and what a sight then I behold and should I ever be so bold to reach out and to touch or to take her in but perhaps that is too much and to touch is but a sin if so then I will be the finest sinner as if I was the innocence of a new beginner and depending on her point of view she might sin along who would dare to question fate and relate a narrative of give and take? Not I. In the moment standing by she washes carefully I dare to peek the sneak in me just has to know. what it is that I want so that interrupts the constant flow of these the places that I go and one day when it all is clear we'll disappear into the dying sun but oh what fun we should have had when we took the run through good and bad but everything there is will settle down in time but now is the time this I see for you and me.
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Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 1:35 AM UTC
Sewing buttons
Dress to **** don't show everything. Pass smiles, be polite to everyone. Keep your voice down, never to laugh out loud. Eat a modest portion, and only one piece of cake. Walk gracefully, poise in every move. Sit up straight, legs daintily crossed. Hold your wine glass by the stem, never by the bowl. Take a sip by looking into, never over the glass. There's nothing in the world like proper etiquette. You can always tell a lady has good breeding by how effortlessly classy she is.
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Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
The Art of Being a Lady
Mandatory ignorance Enforced through early cognizance Until we come to recompense Serrated lines of quote "logic" Complicit as an etiquette Preemptive nondivergence threads United though we bow our heads Suspension stasis animus Alarming lack of sapience Vendetted waking populace Intrinsics lost to "evidence" Orphans to our mother Earth Regressive ****** immigrants Staggering seductions ways Lethargic lecherous hedonist craze Ambrosia brown to black tar goes Vivacious love to skanky *** Entropy or as that goes Remorse I say might have some pros Solemnly a lie you know Empathy not lost on me Retracting threats though not my thing Epiphany perchance to sing Nocturnal beasts of legend spring Damnation comes to every fiend Innocuous solutions seen Perception slanted serpentine Impressions sit supplanters quit The jury rarely gives a **** Yet here Im relating it
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May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
**** mustache
***** girl. godly beast. I couldn't be one of those beautifuls if I pleased. tribal bones stained with European empirico I am black death disease, just human trash that learned to read & I believe bootleg genius is being massively reproduced more cheaply & as we speak is being weakened so as to be spoon fed to the cool kids. yknow they couldn't do it by themselves. never sweated. laughed instead yes I seen em inchin to the edge but I didn't do anything about it. I kinda feel guilty cause I didn't do anything about it. It's just a ****** up awful sound, a whole generation hitting the ground at once. Man. it really puts things in perspective. kinda makes you wonder what's coming next. medicine medley ineffectual malady infectious witch hunt etiquette, I think in pictures disney depictions of apocalyptic **** yet to be decrypted I rip myself to pieces every day.
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May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 5:36 AM UTC
Trash People
Once of a bride was I by a belle informed; Who, on the very night of their honeymoon Upon sighting her groom's dower, screamed And would not let him in for his ***** boon, Until she's taken thru the script the following Morn by her parson's wife in cool counselling. Many things in morals and etiquette do Parents their children ever and anon teach Except on this single unfolding issue Will they falter to them plainly preach: The act of marriage in its detailed image, Cause it's found nay on their nurturing page. An African mother will quiver her girl to lecture, For instance, in the subject under review, But will leave it to the Omniscient Nature To instruct her like cry to a curlew. So the bride's mom will not to her say: This is how you should roll in the hay. Neither will a father his son likewise tell Explicitly of this duty--this too I know-- How to make his led-to-the-altar angel Fly on cloud nine during their maiden show. My pa never me of this nuptial scene told, How in bed my lady I should stylishly hold. Yet instinct, that great ancient teacher, The green Adam and ****** Eve taught On man's debut moment of ecstasy ever, And did lead him to her piquant spot, Whilst one another they caressed for affection, Premiering for all couples conjugal copulation. And the animals who do not the wisdom Of man have, even every diminutive creature, How each by divine smarts in their kingdom-- Like the fish in the sea of their rapture-- Do with themselves mate with none Giving them tutorials nor showing them **** To close this up where it had first started: The *iyawo after the pending deed was done, As it should betwixt man and wife, delighted Was and with glowing warmth did thence burn In the hearth of her *ókò with ultra joy, Who at the beginning of performance was coy.
0
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 4:43 AM UTC
Left to Instinct
Once of a bride was I by a belle informed; Who, on the very night of their honeymoon Upon sighting her groom's dower, screamed And would not let him in for his ***** boon, Until she's taken thru the script the following Morn by her parson's wife in cool counselling. Many things in morals and etiquette do Parents their children ever and anon teach Except on this single unfolding issue Will they falter to them plainly preach: The act of marriage in its detailed image, Cause it's found nay on their nurturing page. An African mother will quiver her girl to lecture, For instance, in the subject under review, But will leave it to the Omniscient Nature To instruct her like cry to a curlew. So the bride's mom will not to her say: This is how you should roll in the hay. Neither will a father his son likewise tell Explicitly of this duty--this too I know-- How to make his led-to-the-altar angel Fly on cloud nine during their maiden show. My pa never me of this nuptial scene told, How in bed my lady I should stylishly hold. Yet instinct, that great ancient teacher, The green Adam and ****** Eve taught On man's debut moment of ecstasy ever, And did lead him to her piquant spot, Whilst one another they caressed for affection, Premiering for all couples conjugal copulation. And the animals who do not the wisdom Of man have, even every diminutive creature, How each by divine smarts in their kingdom-- Like the fish in the sea of their rapture-- Do with themselves mate with none Giving them tutorials nor showing them **** To close this up where it had first started: The *iyawo after the pending deed was done, As it should betwixt man and wife, delighted Was and with glowing warmth did thence burn In the hearth of her *ókò with ultra joy, Who at the beginning of performance was coy.
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42
Ignore the veiled murmur beneath the social graces and party conversation excuse this bland ****** arrangement feigning interest in tales worn thin cruising the same old Memorial Parkway. This, and the embedded gravel marking each grim rotation: expectation disappointment anger the weight of relentless perfection.
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Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 11:38 AM UTC
Etiquette
1611 Their dappled importunity Disparage or dismiss— The Obloquies of Etiquette Are obsolete to Bliss—
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3.1k
Their dappled importunity
when you are new, consequences seem minuscule authority is a foreign concept, maybe too close to home a repercussion to fear the day your light enters the world, rules border your actions like the lines on a freeway who’s to say that rebellion is a bad thing expression in its greatest form. acting out to show discontent. but the underlying causes are beautiful. with experience, things become so real. one mistake and you can be sent away for a lifetime. acting out is no longer to show off development at different times, yet 18 years to decide mens rea vs actus reus. shouldn’t it be the intentions that decide? authority to shut down rebellion, self expression if you will own up to the reaction of our action. its a bit distorted. in other words over the top how many rules there are. but whats the point in breaking the rules if there were no rules to be broken. we find ourselves in this given situation. the animosity for authority; yet the lust towards rebellion. if there was no authority to implement the proper etiquette to fit the social norm, would there even be a point to committing heinous acts that are considered “illegal”. living to find a meaning to match with the experiences.
0
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC
amsterdam
vampiric ***** house a fearful symmetry of cleavers for something to love ***** addicted pearly satin's copulate a continent of curves ovoid rectums and raw mouths in a ritual of sadistic etiquette drenching phallus tongued spit like gales of flames at a masochists invitation for foot blooded kisses and heated lopped breast eager haunches thunder in a malignant lust ********* utopias **** cyclops spreading winkling's dribbling night operas in a red cathedral of flicker hives squealing euphoria's hemic arcade with greased ******* that break backs fluting throats ***** chromatic fizz and shrilling wombs flutter like bat wings pandemonium in the museum of the moon
0
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
Museum of The Moon
Seasons change and life goes on, my scenes switch off, times are gone with words From CT, to New York, to Colorado, the world’s voice I’ve already heard. But not everyone can see the world’s treasures in their face, the beauties, people, lights and sounds across this finite space. Or felt the stars in their souls, that’ll disperse one day It’s not the case, so please sit down, and listen to what I say: We’re all too busy honing in on things that shouldn’t stand out Like why I speak the way I do, with etiquette and class why I transcend the lines between specific roles in what I say and how I act I say: Why question and judge the little things I do in my life, which isn’t yours to the point where you cut off ties and contact that never had been forged Because your preformed images of a bisexual, black guy warps your eyes and makes you blind, way that can’t be right, because across time the blind eyes symbolizes truth so these illusions in your way, blocking you in sooth, serve no purpose, see the light and accept the natural proof. My hair’s not ***** my behavior varies to where it fits no norms. I’m beyond your views, don’t you see? It’s the eye of the storm. I say: It doesn’t stop at me, no, no. It spreads beyond these walls and affects those who are different, who break society’s “laws” Wars and fights over basic things are all I ever hear, beliefs, gender, color, orientation, the common fight is fear Fear to be seen as an abomination   to break or fall from grace To stay hidden from their true potential for their own safety’s sake I say: That’s no way to live a life of chances, hope and purpose to live in shadows, cold and alone under a hidden surface I’m here to say that there’s no shame in being who you are to break the norm and stand against those who dare to change your ways, to those who can’t accept that life’s about change. Why do I say such things? Why do I speak? Why do I stand as one? Our fate’s o n a string, the strong and meek we’re all united under one sun. I say: We’re all human, how hard is it to understand that we’re the pieces of one heart, united in a common band. If we don’t accept this, how far can we go? Surely we won’t last, but if we rise above this fog, the human spirit will ever last against whatever time and space may throw, whatever darkness we may fear. Open your eyes, your ears, your heart Because I say this: It all starts here.
0
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 10:08 PM UTC
I Say
Seasons change and life goes on, my scenes switch off, times are gone with words From CT, to New York, to Colorado, the world’s voice I’ve already heard. But not everyone can see the world’s treasures in their face, the beauties, people, lights and sounds across this finite space. Or felt the stars in their souls, that’ll disperse one day It’s not the case, so please sit down, and listen to what I say: We’re all too busy honing in on things that shouldn’t stand out Like why I speak the way I do, with etiquette and class why I transcend the lines between specific roles in what I say and how I act I say: Why question and judge the little things I do in my life, which isn’t yours to the point where you cut off ties and contact that never had been forged Because your preformed images of a bisexual, black guy warps your eyes and makes you blind, way that can’t be right, because across time the blind eyes symbolizes truth so these illusions in your way, blocking you in sooth, serve no purpose, see the light and accept the natural proof. My hair’s not ***** my behavior varies to where it fits no norms. I’m beyond your views, don’t you see? It’s the eye of the storm. I say: It doesn’t stop at me, no, no. It spreads beyond these walls and affects those who are different, who break society’s “laws” Wars and fights over basic things are all I ever hear, beliefs, gender, color, orientation, the common fight is fear Fear to be seen as an abomination   to break or fall from grace To stay hidden from their true potential for their own safety’s sake I say: That’s no way to live a life of chances, hope and purpose to live in shadows, cold and alone under a hidden surface I’m here to say that there’s no shame in being who you are to break the norm and stand against those who dare to change your ways, to those who can’t accept that life’s about change. Why do I say such things? Why do I speak? Why do I stand as one? Our fate’s o n a string, the strong and meek we’re all united under one sun. I say: We’re all human, how hard is it to understand that we’re the pieces of one heart, united in a common band. If we don’t accept this, how far can we go? Surely we won’t last, but if we rise above this fog, the human spirit will ever last against whatever time and space may throw, whatever darkness we may fear. Open your eyes, your ears, your heart Because I say this: It all starts here.
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