"fanatics" poems
dead bodies floating
in our oceans
from the Asian Pacific
to the Mediterranean
crumpled corpses lying
on our beaches
thousands drowned unknown
overcrowded detention centers
not unlike concentration camps
behind barbed wires
guarded by police and snarling dogs
nobody feels responsible
not those who started wars
destroyed whole cities
made millions homeless
and into refugees
not those who take advantage
of the chaos for their own gain
abusing the names of their gods
or some ancient figurehead
to excuse their atrocities and greed
not those who live
in comfortable homes
and wish the desperate crowds
would just stay on the TV screen
and not come close
nor those who pretend
to be the guardians
of our great humanitarian heritage
but show no backbone
against nationalist fanatics
it is the shame of the world
to sit and talk and watch
and not do enough
those who turn away
the needy and homeless
could also
quite suddenly
lose their homes
forced to rely
on the kindness of strangers
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
Are all footy fanatics
Total raving lunatics?
The flag's in the bag!
We've got lively lads
The best we've ever had!
Peter Pans on ***
The flags that time forgot!
Footy finals fever,
Talk about dream weavers!
Footy finals phobia,
TV claustrophobia,
Why didn't we win,
Any old excuse again!
Footy fanatics,
Raving lunatics,
Footy finals fever,
Melbourne's dream weavers!
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
You put garbage in you get garbage out
Health food fanatics know what I am talking about
McDonalds, Arby’s and all those Buffets
Sluggish citizens working Twelve to ten
And to cover up their poor nutrition
We soup up the brackish black brew
Killing ourselves with more caffeine till
We collapse
You put garbage in you get garbage out
Good teachers with years of experience
Know what I am talking about
The tweet, the face book
Are superficial connections
Binge watching brain-dead reality show people
Speed reading unverified Articles
Peer reviewed paper by academic writers
Don’t get the press the talking heads
With party lines and hateful sentiments get
You put garbage in you get garbage out
Any poet philosopher knows what I am talking about
Flashing screens switching scenes while twitching teens
Sit texting banal and ephemeral things
No grand dreams but to be normal
No expansion of the human potential
Just block and block of picket fence prisons
Dreams are limited to advertised fantasies
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
Around the table,
Literacy discussion turned elitist...
Bemoaning some poor Johnny,
Son of a plumber who does not read
Beyond the practical need,
And has no desire to.
I stopped to check my sense of what I had just heard...
Was transported to a prairie farm;
Thought of my Father, then in his eighties
Who felt no need and no sense of loss
For not having read Shakespeare nor Kant
For missing Milton's Paradises and Hemingway,
For by-passing Black Elk Speaks and C.S. Lewis.
Every morning, he read his Bible;
Some nights he read the mail's
Motley collection of literature:
Ads and politicians and fanatics,
Demanding money and his time,
But mostly money.
"I don't have time to read!"
He'd shout when I suggested a novel.
What literature he had was in his head,
Poems memorized when he was a boy
In a two room school, or
His own lines, written as a young man,
Describing work and friends
Long distant now, but still alive
In memory.
Dad taught me how to read
In different literacies and different texts:
Nuances of sky to read the weather -
What chill or storm or drought was on its way
("Storm's coming, boys! Let's get that hay!");
Cows and calves and bulls,
(Which one was sick or well, dry or bred);
Ways to diagnose mechanical ailments
("Start with the easiest options first");
Metals, to know which welding rod applied
("Aluminum sags, and cast iron cracks");
Grain, rolled crisp between hard hands,
(a test of ripeness);
Cement, to blend the perfect mix,
("Clean gravel/sand, no dirt, not too much water!);
Conservation,
("Always keep some grain on hand" &
"Keep your fuel above half-tank").
So many literacies...
Dad, the Master Reader of them all...
No wonder he'd no time for books.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 9:26 PM UTC
There’s an assembly in the making
and the suits are all shuffling in for the big event
making way to their front row seats
****** in nose
hanky in hand
and all colorfully draped
in those cuffed pin stripes
and Jerry Garcia ties
*now what would the Grateful Dead
or any of their fine entourage
have to say about this foul routine?*
Apropos of that
they’re talking in the 3rd person
with tight syllables
and wavy hands
and all taking a run
at the state of the union
there’s Valentino
and Freddie
and good old Sal
"look....their fiddling with their nuts!"
cries a layman from the balcony seats
the Yin and the Yang
have got even the most liberal minded
scratching their heads
as questions fly in from the field:
*don’t you know the way it used to be?
have you no morals?
which way to the exit!?*
These front row fanatics
have surely been scrimmaging
in the corn fields
all down in that classic 3 point
watching their weight
with sample selections from the
Spicy House and Yaas Bazaar
as members of the congregation look on with envy
*pass the aperitif...the big ***** lady is on deck!*
Union heads are running rogue
loading up on grievances
and lines
passing files at a make shift pew
jumping the bunkers
and stepping on clams
while the orderlies move in
for governance
It’s a bewildered state
and only for the mind of the rigorous
Jimmy D would say:
“it’s nothing you pussy...to the victor goes the spoils!
everyone has a bit of good you know...
you just have to find it!"
Unrest is growing in the ranks
and the masses are unstable
Time to hammer down
with a formidable brace
and two tick play
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 8:05 PM UTC
Mahatma Gandhi
Young visitors in a gallery,
Stood before a portrait of Gandhiji,
Charmed by his toothless smile,
Eyes sparkling through glasses round
And an old watch dangling from his waist,
With his chest bare and a **** cloth
Covering his lean , frail frame.
While they wondered how the good old man
Could shake the mighty British empire
And fight without weapons of destruction,
They were thrilled to behold a vision rare -
The smiling Gandhi emerged from the frame,
Saying that his weapons were invisible,
Yet, they could vanquish the most powerful
Without hatred and shedding no blood!
His loving voice and childlike smile
Combined with an unbending will,
Wielding the power of truth and nonviolence
Could conquer his mighty ruthless foes
And turn them into everloving friends!.
Feeling amazed, the visitors stared
At the Mahatma moving back into the frame;
Begged him to remain and lead them again.
"My countrymen," he said "seem to have forgotten,
" The bloodshed and horror of partition.
"Terrorists and fanatics **** and burn
" And innocent victims feel miserable and forlorn.
"Twice a year, on my 'samaadhi', flowers are strewn,
" While helpless millions struggle and groan.
"In these days of endless greed and senseless crime, "
"Guided missiles and misguided men,
" My words seem to have no relevance,
"Yet, if they listen to their own conscience,
" Give up greed and serve with compassion,
"The India of my dreams will arrive soon."
Sad and surprised, the visitors stared:
Though the figure vanished, his words inspired
And they resolved to follow his noble ways
And strive for the welfare of all mankind.
********* M.G.Narasimha Murthy
Hyderabad, India. [email protected]
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
Bang.
let them do the job
as they do we need to simply look the other way
The Islamophobia is suffocating
the saturation is enough.
There are children there
but we don't see that.
Children without fathers.
Children without mothers.
The Christian fanatics
are not so different.
You have your flag,
You have your gun.
So do they,
but they're the evil one?
Take a mirror and as you do,
you will see, they look like you.
Your religion is no better,
no holier or worthy,
we are all human
all equal.
But some are more equal than others.
Aren't they?
N. Hedges
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
There is a boy
That I was
Absolutely enamored with
Awhile ago
I think part of what
Built up my
Obsession
Was our metaphors
“You’re so strong
Yet gentle;
So fierce but tender;
You’re nearly a lion”
“I can’t even stand how
Gorgeous you are
How you seem to know it all
My lovely, lovely Athena”
But the worst of all
What literally
Kept me up at night
Didn’t become a metaphor until today
We had a mutual love
Not of a typical interest
No; you see we were
Moon fanatics
He loved the moon
I loved the moon
And I have realized that I
Was ‘moony eyed’ over him
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
two Americans and three Indians
Came to my house.yesterday.
Four of them were men
And one of them a woman
They were all shedding blood
I asked the Americans , “ What
Happened to you?” Our fellow
White Americans fired at us”
Why? “I asked most innocently”
They said, ‘we fought indiscrimination
Against the blacks and for their equality”
I asked the Indians, Why are all bleeding?
“The religious fanatics belonging to our
Religion fired at us’ .The two Indian men said.
A Sikh fanatic shot at me indiscriminately”
He was my own body Guard too.”
The Indian woman said painfully.
Coincidentally all the five came
From the two great democracies
Democracy means” killing the
Great leaders and shedding their blood.”
I woke up from the dream
But I had the great opportunity
Of talking to five noble souls
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 7:35 PM UTC
Dream Catchers, egg hatchers, baby Snatchers, **** wackers, lip smackers, online hackers, ***** slappers, hand clappers, exotic flappers, lazy slackers, suitcase packers, & back stabbers.
Hate & defeated, cheat & feel the heat. Too weak & petite. Tales of hell, wishes on a well, thoughts are things you can't always sell. Sometimes words can be lies liars tell. One day to your death to you fell.
Pass it on. I don't belong. Some people are wrong. Die. I won't cry.
Pakrat hoarders, pro choice aborters, two faced home wreckers, voodoo curses, retired lazy old nurses.
Deaf & Blind, racist & unkind, poor & unemployed. Broke & exploited. Dumb, old, ugly, & fat. ***** stinking rat. Piles & piles of crap.
College professors, real estate investors, coaches, cockaroaches, poachers, perverts & ****** meat eatting caravores. Bums & addicts drunks & fanatics, obsessive compulsive, stalkers too possessive, insane aggressive.
Author Notes :
Partially true, could be your family.
© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved,
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
Around the table, literacy discussion
Turns elitist...
Bemoaning some poor Johnny,
Son of a plumber who does not read
Beyond the practical need,
And has no desire to.
I stop to check my sense of what I have just heard...
Am transported back to a prairie farm
And think of my Father, now in his eighties
Who still feels no need and no sense of loss
For not having read Shakespeare or Kant
For missing Milton's Paradises and Hemingway,
For by-passing Black Elk Speaks and C.S. Lewis.
Every morning, he reads his Bible;
Some nights he reads the mail's
Motley collection of literature:
Ads and politicians and fanatics,
Demanding money and his time,
But mostly money.
"I don't have time to read!"
He shouts, when I suggest a novel.
What literature he has is in his head,
Poems memorized when he was a boy
In a two room school, or
His own lines, written as a young man,
Describing work and friends
Long distant now, but still alive
In memory.
Dad taught me how to read
In different literacies and different texts:
Nuances of sky to read the weather -
What chill or storm or drought was on its way;
Cows and calves and bulls -
Which one was sick or well, dry or bred;
Equipment to diagnose mechanical ailments;
Metals to know which welding rod applied;
Grain, rolled crisp between his hands, a test of ripeness...
Cement to find the perfect mix,
So many literacies...
Dad, the Master Reader of them all...
No wonder he'd no time for books.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
With our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent
with blind zealotry they refuse to relent opposing our mergence
so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent.
As we share these moments and begin our physical ascent
be aware that they will not capitulate in calling for our penance
with our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent.
Remember this simple covenant in order to circumvent
the condemnation of our actions as unforgivable flagrance
so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent.
In these sheets we have long forgotten the virgin's lament
because the silent weeping is drowned out by our cadence
with our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent.
By our mutual pleasure we have earned their unrelenting resent
and we are endlessly castigated for our lack of temperance
so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent.
The cries of fanatics prove their opposition to be hellbent
they would prefer that we endure the torment of abstinence
with our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent
so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent.
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
The new Genre Tourist Punk
is sailing the nation.
Hawaiian shirts and white keds are lining up all around Orlando to see
up and thrifting bands like
Lobster trap,
Lighthouse tour and
Dogs welcome.
Founded in a Starbucks
by Toni and Dash,
two MECA grads one student loan away from selling out and getting involved in
the lighthouse painting business,
The Band: Lobster Trap
gave birth to a whole new genre.
TOURIST PUNK
Toni and Dash decided they needed to provide music that was expensive. niche.
Something unspeakably mundane.
With smash hits like
"This traffic is ********
And "My name still isn't Joe".
Lobster Trap is flying
up the American top 40
faster than you can say socks and sandals
Sales of "I HEART LOCATION" merch has skyrocketed with every launched tour.
Crowds of L.L. bean boots and visors are Moshing, breaking poloroid cameras over each others heads in a salmon rage.
old school punk fanatics were skeptical at middle aged middle class suits getting into their scene.
until it hit them that they could now throw punches
at every pedestrian who ever cut them off.
"Hi thirsty, I'm Dad." By Land of the Polite
Has been played more times in the last year then any taylor swift song.
Money once invested in college-bound middle class vacationlander spawn is being wisely spend on bands like "discount Polo",
and "Local Diner"
So listeners.
if you spend an obscene amount of money on travel fair, and over priced, cheaply made souvenirs;
Or Work in customer service thriving to see those leaf peepers choked out by their own ***** packs.
Do yourself a favor.
road trip into your local bullmoose
sporting your states name on your chest.
And Treat yourself to an exclusive new album
of TOURIST PUNK.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 4:16 AM UTC
Fanatics fixed their eyes upon
The screen to cheer their team
The mood there in the air was tense
Tricolor seemed out of steam
The clock was counting down
The time was drawing nigh
Doomed to lose and head on home
Bid Russia their goodbye
An errant shot deflected out
Gave them one last chance
To score a goal and prance about
Show off their famous dance
From the corner, the ball soared in
A hero rose above
Mina smacked it with his head
And won his country's love
England shocked to see the win
Snatched right from their grasp
Colombia delirious
Successful at last gasp
And thus the game was sent along
Into the overtime
Two periods were played to nil
Two teams full in their prime
Penalties would now decide
Which team would advance
The locals glued to their tvs
The nation in a trance
Falcao scores! Kane as well!
Cuadrado, Rashford too!
Muriel then strikes one home
Tricolor up three to two!
Ospina blocks the next one
Hypes up the frenzied crowd
But Uribe hits the crossbar
And the silence echoes loud
Trippier knots it up again
We're down to final shots
Bacca fails to get his through
Past Pickford's valiant swat
Fate rests upon this final kick
Well placed with perfect spin
Just past Ospina's outstreched hands
Dier seals the win
The cafeteros reel from shock
No sign of jubilation
But still the crowd, crushed in defeat
Show their appreciation
Colombia eliminated
We give them all a hand
And though their World Cup here is done
I'm now their biggest fan
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
Today, I’m sharpening arrows
to aim them at
politicians with snouts in the trough,
clerics who preach peace for themselves
but hatred about others,
academics who promote freedom of speech
but run a Gulag Archipelago
for those who don’t follow their own ideas
or buy their textbooks,
hypocrites everywhere,
celebrities in general,
people who don’t smile,
people who aren’t nice,
(why are they here?)
fanatics, tyrants and power mongers,
(there are a humungous lot of these)
boring people,
(they wouldn’t be boring
if they could just try to engage a little more)
and those who block supermarket isles
with their trolleys while they stop and gossip.
I’d really like to put a few arrows in their butts
to puncture their pretensions and hear
the subsequent hiss of preciousness
unless they sincerely promise
to be more considerate
and try to love a whole lot more.
Now. I don't insist they have to love prodigiously,
but I reckon they could lighten the **** up
just a little, and try to laugh more frequently.
That's all.
Mike T Minehan
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 1:29 PM UTC
those killers of innocents
will die in their own blood
not even mistranslated 72 houris
can save them
the misguided fanatics of Paris
who shot happy civilians
with their Kalashnikovs
and then blew themselves up
will have discovered that
by now
to throw terror and death
into people’s daily lives
is an abominable crime
not a heroic deed
those who instigated the massacre
shall be punished accordingly
fake heroes revealed
as ruthless criminals
shall face judgement
in whose light
their great deeds
are shown as what they are
****** ******
yet – far beyond the proper punishment
required after cruel acts
there is the need to look ahead
and face the somewhat inconvenient necessity to
remove the roots of violence veiled as religion
speak up and stand up firm against fanaticized minorities
no matter in whose name the claim to act
bring peace to regions devastated by the dire games of politics
we simply cannot allow
a bunch of ruthless desperados to dominate our lives
* * *
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
Well, we were the History club rejects,
focusing on the effects
of being us
instead of in a book.
Two college drop-outs,
calling in shout-outs
to our friends,
hoping that it affected
how we looked.
Our dads would sleep in,
and our moms were crying
until a quarter past noon --
and we knew
if we didn't start trying,
that would be us, soon.
We were the starving artists,
painting fruit we couldn't afford.
Hoping each brushstroke of an artichoke
would be fruitful to our wallet,
or at least strike a chord.
Two love-loss orphans,
dreaming of morphing
into something or someone else.
But they told us
to remove that fluff
from our head
and put it on the shelves.
We were the film club fanatics,
studying the dynamics
of how to be a pretend person.
We wanted to be
a Wes Anderson flick,
but we were never any thing
other than who we were
and that's what made us sick.
And I swear I miss the desperation:
I'm nostalgic for yesterday's conversations.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS"
lord of the rings fanatics, typical
Somehow controlling thousands of people turned us all into Gandalf
I guarded the food, you two the door
Most people don't tell you how healthy it is to assert yourself,
They crave passivity, fear aggression
Assertion doesn't mean aggression
Patriarchal society
How good it feels to stand tall
Huge like a mountain, wise like a wizard
If we are Gandalf you're the ring
I hope you get thrown into the pits of Mordor
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
Syncopated with the earthly trumpets,
Silvery milk harps silhouetted the scene,
Golden tolling thunder fogging from the deep,
Fanatics drawing deathly dream-like breaths,
Wrapping around the candle drums.
Suns and moons kissed our eyes,
We all laughed at our disguise,
All truth had become all lies,
From the ground all ties were cut,
Floated to the center,
Earthly lives and candle drums,
Take away the dying block,
Gracious resounding turbulence,
Time stopped for heavenly hell,
Came apart and brought back with spell,
We all fell and resurrect tonight.
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 10:10 PM UTC
In the depths of my dark side
Their is another me that worships you.
Mad priest, in black and ****** robes
Devotee of ****** satisfaction
Legate of the armies of conquest of the flesh.
This touch will paralyze your will,
If applied inside, you will see soon you,
Slowly you slip down in surrender,
And render yourself unto me,
So I can see how long I can hold my breath
Between your thighs, inhaling the perfume of you,
Unwilling to exhale.
Sacrifices are made to your majesty
In the temple of your body,
On the alter of your creations
The black and white blood is spilt from my soul,
I lose all control, in a head on collision
Of ****** perversions,
Limitless position and orifice combinations,
My balance overthrow in a coup of your moans
I descend into your dark side,
And liberate the screams hidden inside you.
Saliva slick lips spread spit, that mixes with sweat
Muscles taught, working in time with each motion,
Each withdrawal and insertion,
Tender ***** throbbing, pulsing, clenching,
Moving at multiple angles,
pressing the right buttons,
To start the crescendo,
Of scratching, maddening ******
In the presence of a hoard of revelers
Sharing *** with strange people
On a strange stage.
Your bust displayed,
And ten thousand fanatics slit their own throats
In tribute to your infinite ways
Of delivering pleasures through the pleasures I wish to deliver unto you
Incessantly.
Unlocking chakra with tantric secrets uncovered
In the forbidden texts of ****** servitude to you.
I would service you endlessly,
With fanatic glee, but that me I set free to purge my desire,
Fades away an is replaced with the bland, but no less passionate
Love I feel for you.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 7:33 AM UTC
Life: A Carnival
In so many ways
we are a human freak show,
just a breathing carnival attraction.
So get the **** off your high horse,
look around
be mesmerized,
hypnotized
and wonderized by a world of awe.
Let’s get real,
move a few strands of DNA
from here to there,
drop some chromosomes at the deli
to re-arrange their eating patterns
and we would see that
those mindless amoebas down the street
is talking our language.
Of all the billions of species
populating this planet,
we humans are the most
ignorant, opinionated,
**** for brains fools.
We puff out our stupidity
on a regular basis,
books, movies, music,
TV and social media
24/7/365
there is no end to the
racist, slime eating,
motherfukers
brought out in grand displays
as “experts”
in a single hour
of opinion disguised as “news”
on Fox, or CNN,
NBC, ABC or CBS
a menagerie of fools.
The world is a marvelous place,
alive with diversity,
which we should embrace.
All of us, humans wide,
emerged from Africa,
humanities origins
10's of thousands of years ago.
We humans are a carnival,
a side tent freak show,
all diverse and magnificent.
And to all those idiot
religious fanatics,
USA, USA ignoramuses,
de-evolve your brains,
slither back under your rock,
go back to your ancient,
long gone
humanoid origins,
become like you are,
extinct.
Aztec Warrior/redzone 8.28.16
Note: yes it’s a rant after watching an hour of Fox
CNN and MSNBC news... I must go throw up now.
Apologies to Natalie Merchant whose song “Carnival”
is embedded below, her song is a much more kinder
celebration of our diversity.. I on the other hand
cannot stay calm in the face of fascist fanatics
pretending to speak for human beings.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 10:16 AM UTC
Thorns in the hearts of millions and fear in the minds of billions.
Heard across the whispers of machines, spoken to the minds of onlookers.
Entrances carved into the souls of children by myriad opinions.
Young ones engraved with a memory, reared to despise terror as one would hookers.
Advance the agenda. Propaganda distributed; phones, theaters, televisions alight.
Losing our souls to the terror, we huddle in our whining and dining rooms.
Lips loose and battering what we don't understand, they're the terrors! Don't you understand?
Destitute is reason in the fanatics worlds away, yet in our very homes.
Encouraged to make poor our own empathy, as we seek them out.
Solace lost on our tongues we devour them, mercy removed from our bones.
Everyone knows we have to get them first, right? Right. There's no other route.
Right is confused with fear. They've made us just like them. Just like them.
Vie for change! Do it all you want, but you can't change them, not with sinful might...
Entrance them with modernity, educate them, sequester them, it's a farce, a problem.
Aren't we the beasts? Shooting missiles from a, "Wicked City," televisions alight.
Grand mess we've made, hypocrisy ten miles high, sin ten miles deep.
Right. Where were we? Who shot last? Compare past to past, continue the fight.
Already we're planning, where to strike next? Whack the hive, make 'em weep.
Vanishing like shadows in all-encompassing light the terrors disappear.
"'Enraging us again,' coming soon!" the sequel should be good next year.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
My buddies shared stories
When they wanted protection
But the ******** fanatics’
Decisions were static
Used all possible ploys
To manipulate guys
Into blowing their loads
In their pink little holes
These girls might be crazy
They may well be *****
For all we know
They might want a baby
Regardless of risk
My guys fell for their tricks
When one ruse failed
The girls went down their list
They said not to worry
*** and ***** are clean
When they ****** the next day
It burned like lit gasoline
They turned up the heat
Seduction was key
Till all they could think
Was with the head between their legs
It won’t feel as good
Sensitivity reduced
You won’t stay hard
And I won’t stay wet and squirt jets
You should accept my request
I thought we were cool
If you just trusted me…
Be carefree like a hippie baby!
Emotional blackmail
I’ll get mad if you insist
To protect your *****
Resistance is futile *****
They said if we must
Let ME wrap it up
I’ll secretly poke holes
Or slip off before you explode
She’ll have no *** at all
Or she’ll force you down
And stay on top
Making you drop the ****** to the ground
She says she’s on the pill
When she’s definitely not
Even if you pull out
There’s still ***** in your pre-cum, no doubt
Either she’ll give you disease
Or steal your seed for a baby
None of that is love
So wear a glove bubba
At the end of the story
They said don’t stick your **** in crazy
She might get too attached
You’ll wake up with your **** and ***** detached
Nov 6, 2024
Nov 6, 2024 at 10:50 AM UTC
lessons of life's sanctity,
clarity of reason
and chastity
elude
the sociopath unglued;
clouded lens
filtering threads
of sense
common from extreme,
relishing shreds of conspiracies
unfounded...
tying the falling dow and twin-towers...
to call of duty and
the man....
in the slick blue suit
with the funny last name
sticking it to us,
stripping us of our inalienable rights,
god-given,
taking our bibles and guns away
to mombasa
spiraling memes of dysfunction
programmed to propagate fallacies
in minds unhinged
on the fringes of reality...
like paranoiacs
sipping green tea
or a.m. fanatics
fueling the frenzy
of sociopaths unglued,
licensed to spill
sacred blood
of the masses
at a crowded school
or movie theater
near you
now previewing:
*~ mass homicide XII
&
~ teenage terrorist in black - the sequel*
home-grown
&
fully-loaded...
~ P (Pablo)
(8/5/2013)
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 11:54 AM UTC