"fag" poems - Hello Poetry

"fag" poems

If I wasn't gay would people care? Would they actually let me breath the same air? Could I actually go to school, without people being so cruel? Could I live in a world with no hate? Maybe people would love me if I was straight. It's not as easy as people think. I can't just go to a shrink. I didn't choose to be this way. You really think I'd want to be gay? I don't want attention, I don't want fame. This isn't some sort of game. I am who I am and thats okay. Most people don't see it that way. I only wish I could be the same. To have a wedding and it not be shamed. I want to have kids and not be judged. I don't want my reputation smudged. But apparently I'm different now. Sick in the head somehow. Therapy and shock treatment for something that can't be fixed. How did I get put into this mix? Toxic and tragic, that's my life. It's like I was stabbed in the back with a knife. I'm gay, what's wrong with that? I get treated like some rat. Using your holy books and your religion. To fight against something that makes no difference. I want to be a human not a punching bag. Always getting called a *** Let that word have power and it gets to you. But that words as good as whatever is stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I love being this way. I don't care what you say.

0

Jul 30, 2014

Jul 30, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC

OxygenationOxen

If I wasn't gay would people care? Would they actually let me breath the same air? Could I actually go to school, without people being so cruel? Could I live in a world with no hate? Maybe people would love me if I was straight. It's not as easy as people think. I can't just go to a shrink. I didn't choose to be this way. You really think I'd want to be gay? I don't want attention, I don't want fame. This isn't some sort of game. I am who I am and thats okay. Most people don't see it that way. I only wish I could be the same. To have a wedding and it not be shamed. I want to have kids and not be judged. I don't want my reputation smudged. But apparently I'm different now. Sick in the head somehow. Therapy and shock treatment for something that can't be fixed. How did I get put into this mix? Toxic and tragic, that's my life. It's like I was stabbed in the back with a knife. I'm gay, what's wrong with that? I get treated like some rat. Using your holy books and your religion. To fight against something that makes no difference. I want to be a human not a punching bag. Always getting called a *** Let that word have power and it gets to you. But that words as good as whatever is stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I love being this way. I don't care what you say.

Continue reading...

This poem is by Norman Stevens in response to MY poem about HIM. Have made some minor changes. In Willy’s Bar on High, Sheltered from Cleethorpes sea and sky, Paul Butters utters words of cheer, While quaffing his pint of Willy’s beer. He sets about his spicy meal, Loading up for his evening’s sport, When he’ll aim to be the real deal. Owner Bill’s Angels prepare another stew, To help down another “home –made” brew. They nip outside for another “staff meeting”, Paul says they’ve gone for a *** But THAT I’m not repeating. Throughout these capers, Norman reads his informative papers. Sipping his Nectar Beer, He’ll leave in good cheer. Norman Stevens Assisted by Paul Butters (C) PB\NS 17\11\2015.

0

Nov 17, 2015

Nov 17, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC

Norman Stevens Gets Evens - by Norman Stevens

This poem is by Norman Stevens in response to MY poem about HIM. Have made some minor changes. In Willy’s Bar on High, Sheltered from Cleethorpes sea and sky, Paul Butters utters words of cheer, While quaffing his pint of Willy’s beer. He sets about his spicy meal, Loading up for his evening’s sport, When he’ll aim to be the real deal. Owner Bill’s Angels prepare another stew, To help down another “home –made” brew. They nip outside for another “staff meeting”, Paul says they’ve gone for a *** But THAT I’m not repeating. Throughout these capers, Norman reads his informative papers. Sipping his Nectar Beer, He’ll leave in good cheer. Norman Stevens Assisted by Paul Butters (C) PB\NS 17\11\2015.

Continue reading...

By now,the seed varieties of the world, may have been attacked beyond recovery by wars of pretense and relapses. We are still learning how to handle it properly. We tend to say. Some will talk and plan over dinner parties, over TV or Radio. Most will leave it behind like another corpse of lessons thrown to the gutter, like a dead *** on another Sunset Boulevard. Iraq's seed banks we blew up in the 2000s. In various places in Asia and the Middle East, places of life and cultured varieties gone in an instant. Echoing our imprisoned ignorance and drives for more instant goods and services. Indian farmers have committed mass suicides after their god Hanuman was used by a chemical giant to sell poison seeds and renewed bondages of indebtedness. One question a stranger asked a group of writers on tour was not what their poetry or books were about, nor why they wrote it, but how writing may and may not be helping as we make decisions and solve problems now? Once agricultural lands turn into new promises of commercial buildings. Cities of inaccessible towers and abandoned malls in America, Spain, China, and Russia feeds us back our own echo. Like converted uses of lands, our humanity is converted into inanimate collections and status symbols of some players or parties. As we face our continuing struggle between our oppressor-selves and our genuine roots. Despite the perversions, inside vicious habits of waste where we glorify promises of war and efficiencies, we continue to be entrusted with the ongoing lessons: Rarely do surviving generations through famine, war and diseases, throw away means to live, or destroy any kind of seed. Every day we wake to the ruins and remains of Our living poetry, word spaces, hours, exchanges, gains and losses, stopping and going. This time, not just for fires of anguish or unnecessary losses, but for each other's midnight lamps.#

0

Sep 3, 2018

Sep 3, 2018 at 12:42 AM UTC

By now,the seed varieties of the world, may have been attacked beyond recovery by wars of pretense and relapses. We are still learning how to handle it properly. We tend to say. Some will talk and plan over dinner parties, over TV or Radio. Most will leave it behind like another corpse of lessons thrown to the gutter, like a dead *** on another Sunset Boulevard. Iraq's seed banks we blew up in the 2000s. In various places in Asia and the Middle East, places of life and cultured varieties gone in an instant. Echoing our imprisoned ignorance and drives for more instant goods and services. Indian farmers have committed mass suicides after their god Hanuman was used by a chemical giant to sell poison seeds and renewed bondages of indebtedness. One question a stranger asked a group of writers on tour was not what their poetry or books were about, nor why they wrote it, but how writing may and may not be helping as we make decisions and solve problems now? Once agricultural lands turn into new promises of commercial buildings. Cities of inaccessible towers and abandoned malls in America, Spain, China, and Russia feeds us back our own echo. Like converted uses of lands, our humanity is converted into inanimate collections and status symbols of some players or parties. As we face our continuing struggle between our oppressor-selves and our genuine roots. Despite the perversions, inside vicious habits of waste where we glorify promises of war and efficiencies, we continue to be entrusted with the ongoing lessons: Rarely do surviving generations through famine, war and diseases, throw away means to live, or destroy any kind of seed. Every day we wake to the ruins and remains of Our living poetry, word spaces, hours, exchanges, gains and losses, stopping and going. This time, not just for fires of anguish or unnecessary losses, but for each other's midnight lamps.#

Continue reading...

I am not at fault. I didn't do anything wrong. Why am I being treated as though I did? Stop it with the pity and the shame. I am not ashamed. I don't need pity. Especially not yours. Life is messed up, but I am not. One in five. one in five. ONE IN FIVE One in five LGBTQ+ people have been mistreated because of their ****** orientation. It's not that hard to find these statistics. Look it up. Look up anything about LGBTQ+ people and I'm sure you'll find mistreatment. I'm sure you'll find harm. I'm sure you'll find that they harm themselves. Because they feel at fault. It's not their fault that they feel a common emotion towards another person you, selfish, close-minded.. mmm. No. Four in five. four in five. FOUR IN FIVE Don't talk about it. The way they were mistreated. If you don't really get that If you can't really fathom that Almost all of them Almost every single one of these people that have been mistreated don't even talk about it they don't reach out they don't tell anyone NEARLY HALF of LGBTQ+ people in school are bullied Are mistreated Are hurt Are mocked Are called names *** ****** *** In school. Yeah, bullying happens all the time over stupid **** All the time. Wearing glasses, looking different, being gay. I get it. It happens. Whatever. Nearly half. "72 countries criminalise same-sex relationships ... The death penalty is either ‘allowed’, or evidence of its existence occurs, in 8 countries In more than half the world, LGBT people may not be protected from discrimination by workplace law Most governments deny trans people the right to legally change their name and gender from those that were assigned to them at birth Between 2008 and 2014, there were 1,612 trans people were murdered across 62 countries - equivalent to a killing every two days A quarter of the world’s population believes that being LGBT should be a crime" Oh hey, just some statistics. Isn't that interesting. Isn't it cool to take a step back and check that out. That's pretty crazy huh? Pretty outrageous. But, you know, maybe if you weren't such a *** I did nothing wrong. I tried to stop it. I tried. But how can you stop Doing What Is Natural. People are hurting People are dying People are being killed People are killing themselves Stop it with the pity and the shame. We are not to blame.

0

Mar 13, 2018

Mar 13, 2018 at 2:06 PM UTC

roots-buds-flowers

I am not at fault. I didn't do anything wrong. Why am I being treated as though I did? Stop it with the pity and the shame. I am not ashamed. I don't need pity. Especially not yours. Life is messed up, but I am not. One in five. one in five. ONE IN FIVE One in five LGBTQ+ people have been mistreated because of their ****** orientation. It's not that hard to find these statistics. Look it up. Look up anything about LGBTQ+ people and I'm sure you'll find mistreatment. I'm sure you'll find harm. I'm sure you'll find that they harm themselves. Because they feel at fault. It's not their fault that they feel a common emotion towards another person you, selfish, close-minded.. mmm. No. Four in five. four in five. FOUR IN FIVE Don't talk about it. The way they were mistreated. If you don't really get that If you can't really fathom that Almost all of them Almost every single one of these people that have been mistreated don't even talk about it they don't reach out they don't tell anyone NEARLY HALF of LGBTQ+ people in school are bullied Are mistreated Are hurt Are mocked Are called names *** ****** *** In school. Yeah, bullying happens all the time over stupid **** All the time. Wearing glasses, looking different, being gay. I get it. It happens. Whatever. Nearly half. "72 countries criminalise same-sex relationships ... The death penalty is either ‘allowed’, or evidence of its existence occurs, in 8 countries In more than half the world, LGBT people may not be protected from discrimination by workplace law Most governments deny trans people the right to legally change their name and gender from those that were assigned to them at birth Between 2008 and 2014, there were 1,612 trans people were murdered across 62 countries - equivalent to a killing every two days A quarter of the world’s population believes that being LGBT should be a crime" Oh hey, just some statistics. Isn't that interesting. Isn't it cool to take a step back and check that out. That's pretty crazy huh? Pretty outrageous. But, you know, maybe if you weren't such a *** I did nothing wrong. I tried to stop it. I tried. But how can you stop Doing What Is Natural. People are hurting People are dying People are being killed People are killing themselves Stop it with the pity and the shame. We are not to blame.

Continue reading...

As a bisexual, I fear Few will want you to be proud. They will bend your ear Saying things to you out loud That would be better left Totally, embarrassingly unsaid Instead of rattling around Inside the cathedral of your head. Too many try to make it Seem like a kind of venal crime To want to make love with Someone of your own kind And maybe with the same Gender with which you were born. To some it is very biblical And subjects you to public scorn. Finding someone **** With the same plumbing as you It not only delightful It can be a dream come true. It feels correctly natural And works like the other way Even though people scorn And use words like *** and ‘gay’ Or ****** and even taco Whatever that might end up meaning. The important thing to me Bisexuality is so powerfully appealing. So, those who dislike me And feel so righteously zealous That bisexuality is wrong Are very possibly just jealous. Or maybe just uptight Living by someone’s else’s rules; Not what they’ve learned And therefore are bigoted fools.

0

Feb 26, 2016

Feb 26, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC

BISEXUAL BIGOTRY

As a bisexual, I fear Few will want you to be proud. They will bend your ear Saying things to you out loud That would be better left Totally, embarrassingly unsaid Instead of rattling around Inside the cathedral of your head. Too many try to make it Seem like a kind of venal crime To want to make love with Someone of your own kind And maybe with the same Gender with which you were born. To some it is very biblical And subjects you to public scorn. Finding someone **** With the same plumbing as you It not only delightful It can be a dream come true. It feels correctly natural And works like the other way Even though people scorn And use words like *** and ‘gay’ Or ****** and even taco Whatever that might end up meaning. The important thing to me Bisexuality is so powerfully appealing. So, those who dislike me And feel so righteously zealous That bisexuality is wrong Are very possibly just jealous. Or maybe just uptight Living by someone’s else’s rules; Not what they’ve learned And therefore are bigoted fools.

Continue reading...

Through the country paths, I lazily loitered, watching Nature in its changing hue straying farther into the interiors, sundry and sublime vistas came into view. in response to zephyr’s warm embrace, the silvery leaves joyously fluttered. the bees busied themselves collecting pollen and birds on tree tops merrily chattered it was the *** end of verdant spring. summer’s sun stood behind my head. bleat of sheep was heard from far. ‘Good day to you’….. Someone said. There stood on the hill, a boy around fifteen obviously he was of tribal breed. with a beaming smile, he greeted me but on walking to him, he ran like a steed I saw him disappear behind the trees and enter into a hut tiny as a nest he lived in the lap of Mother Nature, far from the city and its sooty dust being coaxed, he hesitantly came out. my tone of assurance and pleasing smile, seemed to have won his confidence as to a friend, he shared his eventful tale. pointing to the sheep grazing in the slope, he said, he earned a living caring the flock. he stayed in the woods all day long, feeding and tending his master’s sheep. from dawn to dusk, through woods and meads, he leads his sheep, calling them by their name. un vexed, with simple pleasures he is content and with a nomad’s life, he seems to be tame he said, at home he has his invalid mother. bringing her back to health is his mission in life on referring to his mother, I watched his eyes glitter nothing other than her illness posed to him a strife from every utterance, I could sense his filial love. even in abundance, while shadows line many faces, on his visage, hope lingered as a dancing flame to me he seemed above many, rich in other graces! While parting, I handed him a little money pausing unbelievably, with moist eyes he accepted it, when a breeze passed caressing us as if over a kind gesture, Nature seemed to rejoice!

0

May 29, 2018

May 29, 2018 at 9:23 AM UTC

A Rare Beauty Beheld

Through the country paths, I lazily loitered, watching Nature in its changing hue straying farther into the interiors, sundry and sublime vistas came into view. in response to zephyr’s warm embrace, the silvery leaves joyously fluttered. the bees busied themselves collecting pollen and birds on tree tops merrily chattered it was the *** end of verdant spring. summer’s sun stood behind my head. bleat of sheep was heard from far. ‘Good day to you’….. Someone said. There stood on the hill, a boy around fifteen obviously he was of tribal breed. with a beaming smile, he greeted me but on walking to him, he ran like a steed I saw him disappear behind the trees and enter into a hut tiny as a nest he lived in the lap of Mother Nature, far from the city and its sooty dust being coaxed, he hesitantly came out. my tone of assurance and pleasing smile, seemed to have won his confidence as to a friend, he shared his eventful tale. pointing to the sheep grazing in the slope, he said, he earned a living caring the flock. he stayed in the woods all day long, feeding and tending his master’s sheep. from dawn to dusk, through woods and meads, he leads his sheep, calling them by their name. un vexed, with simple pleasures he is content and with a nomad’s life, he seems to be tame he said, at home he has his invalid mother. bringing her back to health is his mission in life on referring to his mother, I watched his eyes glitter nothing other than her illness posed to him a strife from every utterance, I could sense his filial love. even in abundance, while shadows line many faces, on his visage, hope lingered as a dancing flame to me he seemed above many, rich in other graces! While parting, I handed him a little money pausing unbelievably, with moist eyes he accepted it, when a breeze passed caressing us as if over a kind gesture, Nature seemed to rejoice!

Continue reading...

1st grade She was called short 2nd grade She was called stupid 3rd grade She was called clumsy 4th grade She was called fat 5th grade She was called ugly 6th grade She was called flat-chested 7th grade She was called acne face 8th grade She was called fake 9th grade She was called a *** 10th grade She took her life.

0

Nov 24, 2014

Nov 24, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC

1st grade She was called short 2nd grade She was called stupid 3rd grade She was called clumsy 4th grade She was called fat 5th grade She was called ugly 6th grade She was called flat-chested 7th grade She was called acne face 8th grade She was called fake 9th grade She was called a *** 10th grade She took her life.

Continue reading...

they danced in a dream of bending shadows face down begging *** all hungry back door paradise ankles strapped on a foot worn floor paint faced in whorey nights with pin needle eyes beded blood crimson neon's cut curtains like kissing claws so their bodies wouldn't forget dark pleasures lightening and biting tantra tantrums they swallowed mad ***** blossoms of hell candy breathing the others inhalations foot sniffing ballet arch in fastened Japanese melting red slippers gazing upwards rectums prayer solar eyed insurrection finger by finger clutching wrists like the grave for bloods salty cove an injured landscape a dire pink desert like bogs hold bones a rave for a slave covered in yellow ocher rubber sheets soft on the feet x rated amputee costume made of blood and spit look mommy no arms a bellied tattoo of hennaed homunculi burning Candomblé Jejé, skull black eyed beauty hissing while accordion throated rip tie tighten another notch please a dizzy ******* down silver fluted gullet in a steamed up bath house party of blotted sockets *** kitten kissed dead girls thighs tremulous and stretched a shimmering serum like wide tubular channels as pontoon edges slit through midnight howls for velvet skinned girl who thrills her head a veiled Jehovah saliva wagging tongue **** a stuttering ****** dance a hula hot momma in rubble slapping hot lipped kisses over starved darkness along telegraphs avenue melting eyes like butter a globed pudding spill ******* drool drops of gold and black river gladiators slaughter lies with every long stroke between cascading squeals paraphilias mausoleum like tumbling eels a scapegoat pulp fiction chiseled in cement ******* rips drip drip drip babbling **** bubbles **** spasms ooze like a hot glue gun fire spats soil cherry clover

0

Jan 12, 2019

Jan 12, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC

*** Kitten and Little Dead Girl....Ero ****

they danced in a dream of bending shadows face down begging *** all hungry back door paradise ankles strapped on a foot worn floor paint faced in whorey nights with pin needle eyes beded blood crimson neon's cut curtains like kissing claws so their bodies wouldn't forget dark pleasures lightening and biting tantra tantrums they swallowed mad ***** blossoms of hell candy breathing the others inhalations foot sniffing ballet arch in fastened Japanese melting red slippers gazing upwards rectums prayer solar eyed insurrection finger by finger clutching wrists like the grave for bloods salty cove an injured landscape a dire pink desert like bogs hold bones a rave for a slave covered in yellow ocher rubber sheets soft on the feet x rated amputee costume made of blood and spit look mommy no arms a bellied tattoo of hennaed homunculi burning Candomblé Jejé, skull black eyed beauty hissing while accordion throated rip tie tighten another notch please a dizzy ******* down silver fluted gullet in a steamed up bath house party of blotted sockets *** kitten kissed dead girls thighs tremulous and stretched a shimmering serum like wide tubular channels as pontoon edges slit through midnight howls for velvet skinned girl who thrills her head a veiled Jehovah saliva wagging tongue **** a stuttering ****** dance a hula hot momma in rubble slapping hot lipped kisses over starved darkness along telegraphs avenue melting eyes like butter a globed pudding spill ******* drool drops of gold and black river gladiators slaughter lies with every long stroke between cascading squeals paraphilias mausoleum like tumbling eels a scapegoat pulp fiction chiseled in cement ******* rips drip drip drip babbling **** bubbles **** spasms ooze like a hot glue gun fire spats soil cherry clover

Continue reading...

get ebola nerd you **** *** sag of *****

0

Oct 19, 2014

Oct 19, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC

get ebola nerd you **** *** sag of *****

Continue reading...

He is only 10 he should be crying beacuse he feel down,not beacuse someone called him a *** She's only 12,she should be playing with makeup,not razors.. He's only 14 he should be out with his freinds, not tying ropes... She's only 16, she should be out on dates, not staraving herself... They were all 18, they should have been celebrating graduation, not a furneral...

0

May 22, 2015

May 22, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC

He is only 10 he should be crying beacuse he feel down,not beacuse someone called him a *** She's only 12,she should be playing with makeup,not razors.. He's only 14 he should be out with his freinds, not tying ropes... She's only 16, she should be out on dates, not staraving herself... They were all 18, they should have been celebrating graduation, not a furneral...

Continue reading...

All day, every day I'm terrified of you. Again and again your fist makes contact with my skin. Broken spirit, heart, will, pride. Be happy because you broke me. Can't you just smell the pride seeping off of you as you beat me up again. Can anybody see me? Help me? Dead. I'm dead. **** Everyone looks the other way. Nothing wrong happens in their worlds. Even the teachers. Fear seeps into my bones when I see you in the halls. 'Fuck you!' I scream in my head, but can never get the words out my mouth. *** you whisper, in a way that cuts deeper than any scream. Go away. Please. Get bored of me. How can someone be this awful? Help me. It was stupid of me to fight back, because I can't breath after you kick me in the stomach. Just make my life a living hell, please be my guest. Justice is **** Keep an eye on me, in case I start to get happy again. That could be a problem. Key word: Target. Love is foreign now. Lonely is not. My days are black. Are you happy now? Maybe your life is **** so you have to make my life the same. Never has someone hated me so much just for being alive. Nice welcome to high school. "Oh who would ever give a **** about you?" Obviously, no one. Please... Please... People, why can't you see me?! "Queen ***** I call you. "Queen of the rats" you call me. Running, running, running again. Running in vain for you will only get me later. Sometimes I can avoid you, or manage to get away with only a shove or an insult. Stay and beat me if you want, if it makes you feel better because I am giving up for now. "Tomorrow, today won't seem so long" I tell myself. Tell me help is coming. Underdogs always win in the end right? Under your power is not where I thought I would be. Vacant are my eyes, for you have driven my soul away. Vandalized locker, I know it was you. When will I be safe? What did I ever do to you? Xanax would be perfect to OD on. You're a monster… But you have all the power. Zero Bullying Tolerance, that's ********

0

Oct 10, 2011

Oct 10, 2011 at 8:10 PM UTC

Zero Bullying Tolerance

All day, every day I'm terrified of you. Again and again your fist makes contact with my skin. Broken spirit, heart, will, pride. Be happy because you broke me. Can't you just smell the pride seeping off of you as you beat me up again. Can anybody see me? Help me? Dead. I'm dead. **** Everyone looks the other way. Nothing wrong happens in their worlds. Even the teachers. Fear seeps into my bones when I see you in the halls. 'Fuck you!' I scream in my head, but can never get the words out my mouth. *** you whisper, in a way that cuts deeper than any scream. Go away. Please. Get bored of me. How can someone be this awful? Help me. It was stupid of me to fight back, because I can't breath after you kick me in the stomach. Just make my life a living hell, please be my guest. Justice is **** Keep an eye on me, in case I start to get happy again. That could be a problem. Key word: Target. Love is foreign now. Lonely is not. My days are black. Are you happy now? Maybe your life is **** so you have to make my life the same. Never has someone hated me so much just for being alive. Nice welcome to high school. "Oh who would ever give a **** about you?" Obviously, no one. Please... Please... People, why can't you see me?! "Queen ***** I call you. "Queen of the rats" you call me. Running, running, running again. Running in vain for you will only get me later. Sometimes I can avoid you, or manage to get away with only a shove or an insult. Stay and beat me if you want, if it makes you feel better because I am giving up for now. "Tomorrow, today won't seem so long" I tell myself. Tell me help is coming. Underdogs always win in the end right? Under your power is not where I thought I would be. Vacant are my eyes, for you have driven my soul away. Vandalized locker, I know it was you. When will I be safe? What did I ever do to you? Xanax would be perfect to OD on. You're a monster… But you have all the power. Zero Bullying Tolerance, that's ********

Continue reading...

Off to the park a picnic yeah three women a wean and a man who don't scare well not too easily... as long as the swings don't make him queasily up the slide ok wee girl she's gonna fall my toes all curl nope she seems to have it dialled little hurricane dynamo child then the swings for about12 seconds three turns on the roundabout maybe less I reckon then back to the slide God I am puffed hasn't the wee girl had enough? Ok I grab achicken roll two bites its in a muddy hole this picnic is turning out to be endurance playing for Jeremy tried the kids swing I got jammed like wearing steel Y-fronts my privates were crammed ok so it was all my choice I say in a funny high-pitched voice "Jesus go up" I am told so I go Only she calls me that now you know where she got it who can guess got an idea won't confess (better than being a skinny Welsh Tw*t) starting to flag like I smoked a *** need an emergency sicky bag go home soon and lie down quick after picnic and playing I am quite sick

0

Mar 3, 2011

Mar 3, 2011 at 7:55 AM UTC

Off to the park a picnic yeah three women a wean and a man who don't scare well not too easily... as long as the swings don't make him queasily up the slide ok wee girl she's gonna fall my toes all curl nope she seems to have it dialled little hurricane dynamo child then the swings for about12 seconds three turns on the roundabout maybe less I reckon then back to the slide God I am puffed hasn't the wee girl had enough? Ok I grab achicken roll two bites its in a muddy hole this picnic is turning out to be endurance playing for Jeremy tried the kids swing I got jammed like wearing steel Y-fronts my privates were crammed ok so it was all my choice I say in a funny high-pitched voice "Jesus go up" I am told so I go Only she calls me that now you know where she got it who can guess got an idea won't confess (better than being a skinny Welsh Tw*t) starting to flag like I smoked a *** need an emergency sicky bag go home soon and lie down quick after picnic and playing I am quite sick

Continue reading...

Walt Whitman was a ****** That's what we say when we cross his bridge from South Philly to Jersey and see what he would see: the river solid waveless with trees green around feeding from the water on the left and far beyond the watertable real for a minute from the arched metal and the city visible wholly with warehouses rowhomes inches apart and glass buildings and all burnt orange by four o'clock sun but clear on blue sky but you know he was a ****** and the city all one in your eye if you want it to be and the languages together between the buildings all the blacks asians whites itlalians irish polish moving together and talking and eating the food working and riding cars and buses around the liberty bell and independence hall it is brooklyn ferry it was his prophesy but you know he was ****** a big jersey boy *** yea

0

May 28, 2014

May 28, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC

Walt Whitman was a ******

Walt Whitman was a ****** That's what we say when we cross his bridge from South Philly to Jersey and see what he would see: the river solid waveless with trees green around feeding from the water on the left and far beyond the watertable real for a minute from the arched metal and the city visible wholly with warehouses rowhomes inches apart and glass buildings and all burnt orange by four o'clock sun but clear on blue sky but you know he was a ****** and the city all one in your eye if you want it to be and the languages together between the buildings all the blacks asians whites itlalians irish polish moving together and talking and eating the food working and riding cars and buses around the liberty bell and independence hall it is brooklyn ferry it was his prophesy but you know he was ****** a big jersey boy *** yea

Continue reading...

We live in an endless masquerade Dancing to the same song in the Same clothes but we change one thing. We change our masks after every song And we hide our true identity from the Other guests at this masquerade. We hide ourselves from our friends And we hide ourselves from our family. We hide ourselves from the most important People at the masquerade: ourselves. Every time we put a different mask on We become someone we’re really not Because we want to be that person or Because everyone will like us if we’re That person and not our true selves. We change masks to hide the scars Of our past and the pain we feel now Sometimes people will like us if we Only show the good and not the bad Because the bad hurts not only us but them. We were bullied when we were young By our “friends” in school or at the park. They called us names like *** or ****** Or push us down the stairs or into lockers Or they call us fat because we are not skinny. They call us names because they think they Know us but they really don’t because we Wear masks at this masquerade even when We are bullied to hide our true emotions. We wear masks because of these scars. We change our masks because we don’t want Everyone to know what we do or how we act When we’re home with our family or friends. In the masquerade we are friendly and nice but At home we abuse our spouses or kids or friends. We abuse them verbally or physically Because we are drunk or we lost our jobs. We scream at the top of our lungs because That’s the only way we know how to relax. That’s us when we’re not at the masquerade. We lost our best friend from high school Because he or she decided to commit suicide. That was in the past but it felt like this morning so We change masks to hide the pain we are feeling With every passing second because we miss him or her. Our world is an endless masquerade without an end As we dance the dance of hiding our true identity from Everyone we see with every change of the masks but Our song is still the same. It’s the song of heartbreak Because in this masquerade all we feel is pain and sadness. We lose our true selves with each mask unless we, With the help of someone, remove our masks and Put an end to this never ending masquerade so we Can live our lives the way we want to…as ourselves. Until then, we dance the dance and change the mask. Welcome to the Masquerade.

0

Mar 15, 2012

Mar 15, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC

We live in an endless masquerade Dancing to the same song in the Same clothes but we change one thing. We change our masks after every song And we hide our true identity from the Other guests at this masquerade. We hide ourselves from our friends And we hide ourselves from our family. We hide ourselves from the most important People at the masquerade: ourselves. Every time we put a different mask on We become someone we’re really not Because we want to be that person or Because everyone will like us if we’re That person and not our true selves. We change masks to hide the scars Of our past and the pain we feel now Sometimes people will like us if we Only show the good and not the bad Because the bad hurts not only us but them. We were bullied when we were young By our “friends” in school or at the park. They called us names like *** or ****** Or push us down the stairs or into lockers Or they call us fat because we are not skinny. They call us names because they think they Know us but they really don’t because we Wear masks at this masquerade even when We are bullied to hide our true emotions. We wear masks because of these scars. We change our masks because we don’t want Everyone to know what we do or how we act When we’re home with our family or friends. In the masquerade we are friendly and nice but At home we abuse our spouses or kids or friends. We abuse them verbally or physically Because we are drunk or we lost our jobs. We scream at the top of our lungs because That’s the only way we know how to relax. That’s us when we’re not at the masquerade. We lost our best friend from high school Because he or she decided to commit suicide. That was in the past but it felt like this morning so We change masks to hide the pain we are feeling With every passing second because we miss him or her. Our world is an endless masquerade without an end As we dance the dance of hiding our true identity from Everyone we see with every change of the masks but Our song is still the same. It’s the song of heartbreak Because in this masquerade all we feel is pain and sadness. We lose our true selves with each mask unless we, With the help of someone, remove our masks and Put an end to this never ending masquerade so we Can live our lives the way we want to…as ourselves. Until then, we dance the dance and change the mask. Welcome to the Masquerade.

Continue reading...

He sold his pure soul for a fiver, maybe, the price of a cuppa tea, sold it to the man of bonds, of stocks and shares, who had no cares, The customer, he wanted a *** or a **** wasn't sure which, either would do. Glimpsed him out the side of his eye, what he didn't note was that he cried, He didn't care the callous man, Gets satisfaction however he can. Girl child, boy child, one thing for certain, he gave not a **** He was selfish and cold, his currency was gold, pure gold the purity of just past infancy, crowding in the shopping mall. The by-passers wanted to intervene, unable to believe the things that they'd seen. Day by day, still the stay, They should still be free and able to play. It's life in London, so they say, Living pain day by day. Thought that they may find the streets paved with golden kisses, Home again the other side, the punter hugs his Missus. (C) Livvi

0

Sep 9, 2014

Sep 9, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC

He sold his pure soul for a fiver, maybe, the price of a cuppa tea, sold it to the man of bonds, of stocks and shares, who had no cares, The customer, he wanted a *** or a **** wasn't sure which, either would do. Glimpsed him out the side of his eye, what he didn't note was that he cried, He didn't care the callous man, Gets satisfaction however he can. Girl child, boy child, one thing for certain, he gave not a **** He was selfish and cold, his currency was gold, pure gold the purity of just past infancy, crowding in the shopping mall. The by-passers wanted to intervene, unable to believe the things that they'd seen. Day by day, still the stay, They should still be free and able to play. It's life in London, so they say, Living pain day by day. Thought that they may find the streets paved with golden kisses, Home again the other side, the punter hugs his Missus. (C) Livvi

Continue reading...

Coffee on my breath, wearing a frown. Sunshine, my sweater, my soul turns brown. Lips slick with chapstick, chics' licking sack n' **** drag off a ******* *** n' lean, obscene in the sense, the ******* fags' a drag queen. Rival the bible, hell to sell any, whats worse, church bells smell ugly under my nose. I chose the shallow dirt road to death, even the tallest tales hail the same frail fate. Fill my urn to earn my fill, **** it. There is no still frame to capture the moment, fracture the film and leave it alone. Yellow toned, below me, sallow, cornered in color coordinates. Drenched cover but dry at the core of it; dazzled by **** dazzled by diction, you write the dirtiest fiction and I'm the ******* ***** in it. Leather bound, cable wound, leather bound. Black. Leather.

0

Sep 18, 2010

Sep 18, 2010 at 7:30 PM UTC

shashank-virkud-1

Coffee on my breath, wearing a frown. Sunshine, my sweater, my soul turns brown. Lips slick with chapstick, chics' licking sack n' **** drag off a ******* *** n' lean, obscene in the sense, the ******* fags' a drag queen. Rival the bible, hell to sell any, whats worse, church bells smell ugly under my nose. I chose the shallow dirt road to death, even the tallest tales hail the same frail fate. Fill my urn to earn my fill, **** it. There is no still frame to capture the moment, fracture the film and leave it alone. Yellow toned, below me, sallow, cornered in color coordinates. Drenched cover but dry at the core of it; dazzled by **** dazzled by diction, you write the dirtiest fiction and I'm the ******* ***** in it. Leather bound, cable wound, leather bound. Black. Leather.

Continue reading...

I still take a *** Every now and again ...... More like whenever I possibly can. Anxiety is up Depression in such a down I am such a joke, Circling around and around. Nicotine You little fiend You calm me down, And rot my teeth I know I regret it, But every time we meet, The twitches stop And my mind stops it's rot I'll still take a *** Every now and again I'll smoke them slow I'll smoke them fast Until my body is smoke and ash.

0

Apr 29, 2013

Apr 29, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC

jacquelyn-audrey-whiston

I still take a *** Every now and again ...... More like whenever I possibly can. Anxiety is up Depression in such a down I am such a joke, Circling around and around. Nicotine You little fiend You calm me down, And rot my teeth I know I regret it, But every time we meet, The twitches stop And my mind stops it's rot I'll still take a *** Every now and again I'll smoke them slow I'll smoke them fast Until my body is smoke and ash.

Continue reading...

Dysphoria, what does it feel like? They sigh, trying to find a single sentence for years of caged silence. Identity: Female Stuck in the wrong way To me it’s a sense of nothing will ever be right The feeling of being in extreme danger Like you’re about to die Identity: Male All I can say is This isn’t me The feeling is a long and windy explanation of Disassociation There are things about me that I don’t associate with myself And it’s weird and confusing When I become aware of them Identity: **** A drag queen? Trans fluid. Dysphoria... It's a lot like, Anger, Betrayal, An itch Like a really itchy sweater, You can’t take it off And the longer you have to wear it the worse it gets You start to hate yourself because You’re the one that put the sweater on in the first place They say we are ill Broken ****** *** “Butch” It’s not correct When they say it’s their right to say those That’s when I get mad If there is no way to make the mind conform to the body You must make the body conform to the mind If they think it’s their right to tell other people that their identity is wrong, Then they are ill and broken They have no f**king clue And I know, I can’t tell them they’re wrong Without telling them why But I realize Explaining this is futile With closed minded people Bathrooms need to change, Health care needs to change, Identification needs to change People are forced to “pick one” Trans-phobia shouldn’t be tolerated Mental health care shouldn’t be because it’s a “defect” Social pressure, Internalized oppression, Abuse, Shouldn’t Be Tolerated Politicians have got it the wrong way around One in two transgender persons have experienced ****** assault One. In. Two. They say, “We don’t want men undercover spying on our women and children” You think they are in there to spy or **** Name more than two cases in the last 25 years Where a transgender person has sexually abused a woman in the ladies bathroom You can’t But give me five minutes, and I can come up with five to eight names of transgender people That have been assaulted in bathrooms since 2019 started But our Pride cannot be destroyed It’s our strength A feeling of belonging A belief that we can change this We are not alone. We Are Not Alone. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

0

Mar 7, 2019

Mar 7, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC

apomegranatesmemoir13

Listen To Their Voice

Dysphoria, what does it feel like? They sigh, trying to find a single sentence for years of caged silence. Identity: Female Stuck in the wrong way To me it’s a sense of nothing will ever be right The feeling of being in extreme danger Like you’re about to die Identity: Male All I can say is This isn’t me The feeling is a long and windy explanation of Disassociation There are things about me that I don’t associate with myself And it’s weird and confusing When I become aware of them Identity: **** A drag queen? Trans fluid. Dysphoria... It's a lot like, Anger, Betrayal, An itch Like a really itchy sweater, You can’t take it off And the longer you have to wear it the worse it gets You start to hate yourself because You’re the one that put the sweater on in the first place They say we are ill Broken ****** *** “Butch” It’s not correct When they say it’s their right to say those That’s when I get mad If there is no way to make the mind conform to the body You must make the body conform to the mind If they think it’s their right to tell other people that their identity is wrong, Then they are ill and broken They have no f**king clue And I know, I can’t tell them they’re wrong Without telling them why But I realize Explaining this is futile With closed minded people Bathrooms need to change, Health care needs to change, Identification needs to change People are forced to “pick one” Trans-phobia shouldn’t be tolerated Mental health care shouldn’t be because it’s a “defect” Social pressure, Internalized oppression, Abuse, Shouldn’t Be Tolerated Politicians have got it the wrong way around One in two transgender persons have experienced ****** assault One. In. Two. They say, “We don’t want men undercover spying on our women and children” You think they are in there to spy or **** Name more than two cases in the last 25 years Where a transgender person has sexually abused a woman in the ladies bathroom You can’t But give me five minutes, and I can come up with five to eight names of transgender people That have been assaulted in bathrooms since 2019 started But our Pride cannot be destroyed It’s our strength A feeling of belonging A belief that we can change this We are not alone. We Are Not Alone. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Continue reading...

You wonder why my name is spaghetti, It's sounds funny to you. Not quite a long story, But it's all very true. Our tale begins, When I was quite young, Right when spring, had just sprung. Living with my aunt, At the age of two, She brought me to preschool, In her liberal Subaru. My parents left me, If you were curious. They went off to help illegal-aliens, which made me quite furious. Anyway, when I got to my class, We did a bunch of useless work, While the teacher sat fat on her *** After reading some **** called Cat in the Hat, we all went for lunch, to eat some crap. All was going well, In that brick-enclosed hell, but all went wrong with a single song. Some ****** turned on, Some pop music, We all got mad, At that stupid ***** I had enough already, Since my parents had left me, And I was stuck with a woman, Who voted for Hillary. So I got out of my seat, And walked right to the kid, Took my lunch out of my bag, And opened the lid. Inside held the spaghetti, That I was planning to eat. I grasped it in my hand, And planted my feet. I grabbed the fag's neck, shoved the spaghetti down his throat, And before I knew it, He started to choke. Through his espohogus, very far down, The blood gushed out of his mouth, And onto the ground. The kid's eyes rolled back, into his head, until they were white, I knew he was dead. Even though it was over, I continued to go, And throw his body, Out the nearest window. My classmates watched in horror, as the body fell down, Into the road, without making a sound. Then in the street a dump truck went by, Running over the body, And my classmates started to cry. They will never forget that wonderful day. "He killed a kid with spaghetti!" They all started to say.

0

May 14, 2016

May 14, 2016 at 7:35 AM UTC

Why my name is spaghetti

You wonder why my name is spaghetti, It's sounds funny to you. Not quite a long story, But it's all very true. Our tale begins, When I was quite young, Right when spring, had just sprung. Living with my aunt, At the age of two, She brought me to preschool, In her liberal Subaru. My parents left me, If you were curious. They went off to help illegal-aliens, which made me quite furious. Anyway, when I got to my class, We did a bunch of useless work, While the teacher sat fat on her *** After reading some **** called Cat in the Hat, we all went for lunch, to eat some crap. All was going well, In that brick-enclosed hell, but all went wrong with a single song. Some ****** turned on, Some pop music, We all got mad, At that stupid ***** I had enough already, Since my parents had left me, And I was stuck with a woman, Who voted for Hillary. So I got out of my seat, And walked right to the kid, Took my lunch out of my bag, And opened the lid. Inside held the spaghetti, That I was planning to eat. I grasped it in my hand, And planted my feet. I grabbed the fag's neck, shoved the spaghetti down his throat, And before I knew it, He started to choke. Through his espohogus, very far down, The blood gushed out of his mouth, And onto the ground. The kid's eyes rolled back, into his head, until they were white, I knew he was dead. Even though it was over, I continued to go, And throw his body, Out the nearest window. My classmates watched in horror, as the body fell down, Into the road, without making a sound. Then in the street a dump truck went by, Running over the body, And my classmates started to cry. They will never forget that wonderful day. "He killed a kid with spaghetti!" They all started to say.

Continue reading...

+ A bed-sits high and dry,marooned on a sandbank of night. As radio 4-casts its nets to isolated ships like me that rudderless drift on into the light. Still dark outside,no sounds,save the distant echoing bark of a hungry fox ----streets away. Another dawn ripped blackbin bag of a day creeps and ouzes in Heavy unfocused lids fogged in the steamy smokeyness of tea and a first fag plenty of time plenty of time. Time before the world wakes to the morning pips and its flushing, brushing, rushing sounds A greyness gathers just beyound my pained curtains, as with a silent sigh a roosted blackbird clears its fasted throat. Then as if by magic I 'm carried, scimming high above and beyound this mooring set in a silvered sea,on a welcomed mantra known to all. As if a calling pray at day break,following each word in a moment subline Un angle vole un angle vole. Rockall - Malin - Hebrides Humber - Fisher - German bight Thames - Dover - Wight. Each single secert understood and noted only by a few as I glide over in paced, pausey surf rolling words North northeast - 994 - Falling slowly - Low pressure moving away - Gales 8 very poor - Backing 3-4 later - Mainly good - Becoming variable - Syclonic later - Increasing 6-7 mainly west - Swally showers for a time - Fair - Good. Oh so good, each pure English comforting sounds heard over lapping waves of air. The bushy wet nosed fox sulks and cowers away from the breaking sun, as the blackbird draws a dewdropped breath though golden nib and tapping gently, call a hidden choir into song just for me. Reminding me of the things I'd for gotten I care about. Sharp timed unwelcomed pips flood the ears to prise open sticky eyes from promised dreams and spoon-cuddles warm As I set forth on wetted pavements, ready to decline into my charted day. Yet smiling as if blessed and no longer alone But filled with early morning salty thoughts of strangers I have yet to meet

0

Feb 24, 2011

Feb 24, 2011 at 7:47 AM UTC

christopher-holmes

+ A bed-sits high and dry,marooned on a sandbank of night. As radio 4-casts its nets to isolated ships like me that rudderless drift on into the light. Still dark outside,no sounds,save the distant echoing bark of a hungry fox ----streets away. Another dawn ripped blackbin bag of a day creeps and ouzes in Heavy unfocused lids fogged in the steamy smokeyness of tea and a first fag plenty of time plenty of time. Time before the world wakes to the morning pips and its flushing, brushing, rushing sounds A greyness gathers just beyound my pained curtains, as with a silent sigh a roosted blackbird clears its fasted throat. Then as if by magic I 'm carried, scimming high above and beyound this mooring set in a silvered sea,on a welcomed mantra known to all. As if a calling pray at day break,following each word in a moment subline Un angle vole un angle vole. Rockall - Malin - Hebrides Humber - Fisher - German bight Thames - Dover - Wight. Each single secert understood and noted only by a few as I glide over in paced, pausey surf rolling words North northeast - 994 - Falling slowly - Low pressure moving away - Gales 8 very poor - Backing 3-4 later - Mainly good - Becoming variable - Syclonic later - Increasing 6-7 mainly west - Swally showers for a time - Fair - Good. Oh so good, each pure English comforting sounds heard over lapping waves of air. The bushy wet nosed fox sulks and cowers away from the breaking sun, as the blackbird draws a dewdropped breath though golden nib and tapping gently, call a hidden choir into song just for me. Reminding me of the things I'd for gotten I care about. Sharp timed unwelcomed pips flood the ears to prise open sticky eyes from promised dreams and spoon-cuddles warm As I set forth on wetted pavements, ready to decline into my charted day. Yet smiling as if blessed and no longer alone But filled with early morning salty thoughts of strangers I have yet to meet

Continue reading...

nice college girls yelling ***** ***** *** knees on the ground in this dark basement a stupidity test oath of a blind allegiance join the cult drink this beer or you are gay conform conform conform sure i cried after but not from the half hearted abuse cried for them cried for the part that died the part that didn't want to call them out to leave early the part that was still a kid the part that could not care they had no control over me that night i killed me

0

Oct 25, 2014

Oct 25, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC

nice college girls yelling ***** ***** *** knees on the ground in this dark basement a stupidity test oath of a blind allegiance join the cult drink this beer or you are gay conform conform conform sure i cried after but not from the half hearted abuse cried for them cried for the part that died the part that didn't want to call them out to leave early the part that was still a kid the part that could not care they had no control over me that night i killed me

Continue reading...

I lurk on social media. I post all day and night. It strokes and stokes my ego to pick a verbal fight. When I see inspiring stories or such videos I watch, my cruel and vicious comments will take them down a notch. Oh feel my power and my wrath, my insults, mean and shocking, like "Loser", "Snowflake", ****** *** (do you tremble at my mocking?) I hate the world, I loathe myself, my friends all went away. Girls say I'm scary and a creep. My rage grows every day. My impotence consumes me, I respond with posts of rage. Anonymous through GMail and my fake Facebook page. My hatred grows as my soul shrinks and so my spleen I vent. Safe, deep within my bunker, down in my mom's basement.

0

Apr 22, 2020

Apr 22, 2020 at 9:23 AM UTC

Social Media Troll

I lurk on social media. I post all day and night. It strokes and stokes my ego to pick a verbal fight. When I see inspiring stories or such videos I watch, my cruel and vicious comments will take them down a notch. Oh feel my power and my wrath, my insults, mean and shocking, like "Loser", "Snowflake", ****** *** (do you tremble at my mocking?) I hate the world, I loathe myself, my friends all went away. Girls say I'm scary and a creep. My rage grows every day. My impotence consumes me, I respond with posts of rage. Anonymous through GMail and my fake Facebook page. My hatred grows as my soul shrinks and so my spleen I vent. Safe, deep within my bunker, down in my mom's basement.

Continue reading...

Just one bat of her lashes, and every neuron in my brain was conspiring to steal her heart. So I became a thief. I become a lot of things in an instant, the way a chameleon changes colors. Her heart was reduced to a jewel, courting became a heist, and possession was just the *** afterwards. She was nothing more than a crime. A terrible thing that I committed.

0

Jun 23, 2014

Jun 23, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC

Just one bat of her lashes, and every neuron in my brain was conspiring to steal her heart. So I became a thief. I become a lot of things in an instant, the way a chameleon changes colors. Her heart was reduced to a jewel, courting became a heist, and possession was just the *** afterwards. She was nothing more than a crime. A terrible thing that I committed.

Continue reading...

We are groups of people made to hate because of who we love not what we stand for. Did no one listen to your parents? You treat others how you want to be treated not throwing beer bottles and whining when it misses their head not coming at them with a knife because a man is holding a man's hand. We are taught as kids being gay isn't okay. You could be a murderer but you can't love another man. Why? Why can't I love who I love. People would rather have a man dying alone in the hospital because his boyfriend of 35 years isn't his husband than letting love flourish. People would rather **** us off than understand. People would have broken homes where kids come home to beatings their head shoved in an oven ***** molested beaten to a pulp cigars burned out on their arms and hit with beer bottles to the point of being broken than to let a happily loving couple of two men to have that child. They would rather see a red sea of bodies than to allow us to live. People would rather say ****** "fruitcake" *** "fairy" and watch their child slit his wrist for every time he looks at a man and feels a twinge of love than to let him be happy. They would rather torcher and torment children to the point of mental breakdowns rushing blood soar throats living alone on the streets no love pretending. Than to let them be them. People love purple that it means freedom but I like the rainbow. Rainbows have a million colours and not one colour is quite the same hue. No one hates rainbows or the gorgeous colours it has. Not many notice the differences of them so, why can't everyone treat other people like we're rainbows?

0

Aug 29, 2014

Aug 29, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC

We are groups of people made to hate because of who we love not what we stand for. Did no one listen to your parents? You treat others how you want to be treated not throwing beer bottles and whining when it misses their head not coming at them with a knife because a man is holding a man's hand. We are taught as kids being gay isn't okay. You could be a murderer but you can't love another man. Why? Why can't I love who I love. People would rather have a man dying alone in the hospital because his boyfriend of 35 years isn't his husband than letting love flourish. People would rather **** us off than understand. People would have broken homes where kids come home to beatings their head shoved in an oven ***** molested beaten to a pulp cigars burned out on their arms and hit with beer bottles to the point of being broken than to let a happily loving couple of two men to have that child. They would rather see a red sea of bodies than to allow us to live. People would rather say ****** "fruitcake" *** "fairy" and watch their child slit his wrist for every time he looks at a man and feels a twinge of love than to let him be happy. They would rather torcher and torment children to the point of mental breakdowns rushing blood soar throats living alone on the streets no love pretending. Than to let them be them. People love purple that it means freedom but I like the rainbow. Rainbows have a million colours and not one colour is quite the same hue. No one hates rainbows or the gorgeous colours it has. Not many notice the differences of them so, why can't everyone treat other people like we're rainbows?

Continue reading...

the new tupac will have you too walkin with gangstas the new two stupidity now two steppin with prankstas murked the first one sayin he's blacker the berry when i'm sweeter than juice bass voiced top me if you want to experience that jacked tweeters induced when i own all of Victoria's secrets as proof tellin me what the body when all his deducement has him actin when he's wearin his shoes crypt walking like that it's only talk missed balking like has bass fits jocking as his only walk ******* with me when All Hailed Mary like if she was his when is only stolen balk I'm walkin again the gauntlet cuz all the women they want this flauntin all **** like if i was jackin all the wanted like ghost whippin me imma follow you till i'm haunted pain really, so bow down, when my diamonds glisten listen again is just as well bilateral biased has his confused his like the ol' eminem was in the new form gettin his face jacked again like me smokin crack with friends like all given enemies stressed was all given was a race black and then we actually are the same race like i knew you back like i owned all the streets like his females thuggin as heathen **** riding i'll **** your *** up like settin me up when i'm always the last muthafucken breathin exposing the ***** heathen breathin like if you were the only man catching bullet rounds exposed like the new you was still alive to the next ** hiked my socks up construed you at hit stupidity when will ride ghettos owned by just the black reppin when you're steppin the whack, honest it was just onyx i'll blast your *** like if you stole my pump shotty: like i never was wanted runst follies anamoly run has all criminal cops all fathering fun deceiving that all to gain was never greed when all greed in need bothering sons: all you still down with me when we ride it looking like a *** while i'm guy gee stag when you're looking into their eyes, they'd know comparison of a bird control as if fathering guys my knowledge is flight applauding the time, are you still down with me i hide behind the love of beauty of my womens eyes when you're looking like the female opened you up to your face compared to opening thighs they don't know like how you stare in the future that tommorow comes only after the dark knowing me marks the coming of the actual god I am "unconditional heart"

0

Sep 5, 2018

Sep 5, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC

the new tupac will have you too walkin with gangstas the new two stupidity now two steppin with prankstas murked the first one sayin he's blacker the berry when i'm sweeter than juice bass voiced top me if you want to experience that jacked tweeters induced when i own all of Victoria's secrets as proof tellin me what the body when all his deducement has him actin when he's wearin his shoes crypt walking like that it's only talk missed balking like has bass fits jocking as his only walk ******* with me when All Hailed Mary like if she was his when is only stolen balk I'm walkin again the gauntlet cuz all the women they want this flauntin all **** like if i was jackin all the wanted like ghost whippin me imma follow you till i'm haunted pain really, so bow down, when my diamonds glisten listen again is just as well bilateral biased has his confused his like the ol' eminem was in the new form gettin his face jacked again like me smokin crack with friends like all given enemies stressed was all given was a race black and then we actually are the same race like i knew you back like i owned all the streets like his females thuggin as heathen **** riding i'll **** your *** up like settin me up when i'm always the last muthafucken breathin exposing the ***** heathen breathin like if you were the only man catching bullet rounds exposed like the new you was still alive to the next ** hiked my socks up construed you at hit stupidity when will ride ghettos owned by just the black reppin when you're steppin the whack, honest it was just onyx i'll blast your *** like if you stole my pump shotty: like i never was wanted runst follies anamoly run has all criminal cops all fathering fun deceiving that all to gain was never greed when all greed in need bothering sons: all you still down with me when we ride it looking like a *** while i'm guy gee stag when you're looking into their eyes, they'd know comparison of a bird control as if fathering guys my knowledge is flight applauding the time, are you still down with me i hide behind the love of beauty of my womens eyes when you're looking like the female opened you up to your face compared to opening thighs they don't know like how you stare in the future that tommorow comes only after the dark knowing me marks the coming of the actual god I am "unconditional heart"

Continue reading...