Bo Burnham Mar 2015
Our father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name,
hollow be thy promises
and shallow be thy shame.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
On a scale of one to ten,
our Lord is totally eleven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
toasted close to dawn,
and forgive us our trespasses
as we shoot those who trespass on our lawn,
and lead us not into temptation,
such as pot or porno,
but deliver us from evil
(if not delivery, then DiGiorno).
Bad Jokes Inc Jun 2014
I hate white people
who stop me from stealing their stuff
and bring in the po po
who put me in hand cuff.

Now I'm in jail
cannot post bail
eating out of a metal bowl
while being fucked in my bunghole.

Then it occurred to me
what I am supposed to be
so I became a basketball player
and changed my name to Lebron James.

Chris Bosh wants to be more than homies
ever since I was drunk and he groped me
he wanted my dick
i think he was sick.

Spoelstra is an ass
I fuckin hate him.
he needs to die
before I cram a basketball in his wife.
Eric Spoelstra is my love.
Bailey Lewis Sep 2015
I was told that god
Is the father for the
Fatherless
Well, he has a lot in
Common with my father
Because, they both
Abandoned me when
I needed them the most
To those who are religious, please don't take this poem as an insult.
Alan W Jankowski Dec 2011
Grandpa sits in his favorite chair,
Spots his granddaughter and starts to stare,
Whips out his dick and starts to stroke,
He knows it’s his granddaughter he wants to poke,
Calls her over and says, “Pretty please.”
Come on granddaughter get on your knees,
She does as she’s told and sucks him with zest,
Because she knows incest is best.

Uncle Roy decides to give it a whirl,
He likes to dress his nephew up as a girl,
Likes to see him in silk and lace,
Lipstick and makeup on his face,
Imagining him with heels on his feet,
As he sits there and starts to stroke his meat,
He’d love to put him to the test,
Because he knows incest is best.

Mother decides to get in on the act,
Her and her son have a special pact,
While her husbands at work she gets in his bed,
Pulls down his pants and starts giving him head,
Son likes his mom dressed up in her lace,
As he shoots his load all over her face,
He knows his mom is better than the rest,
Because he knows incest is best.

Sister and brother are a special pair,
It’s more than a last name these two share,
Brother Bill can’t believe his luck,
Having a sister that likes to fuck,
Says, “Hey Sis, come on over here.”
As he bends her over and takes her rear,
Going at it like animals it becomes a real fuckfest,
Because they both know incest is best.

Father can’t believe his daughter is so kind,
She’s on her knees as he takes her behind,
She moans and screams and starts to cry,
Says, “Hey Daddy, you’re my kind of guy.”
Daddy tells her incest is the better way,
It’s a game the whole family can play,
Daddy treats his daughter like an honored guest,
Because they both know incest is best.

11-27-09b.
Far and away my most read poem, except perhaps my 9-11 Tribute thingy...this poem gets well over 1000 views per month on one erotic story site alone...and yes, it's done with more than a hint of humor...the line "Incest, a game the whole family can play" is something a friend of mine used to say back in high school...:)
Clindballe Jul 2014
The smell of smoke
and broken trust
is all I'll ever see
and all you'll ever be
Written: July 15. - 2014
Vacuous Sep 2015
Under my bed,
I lay silent.
Hes in the other room,
drunk and violent.
He storms down the hall,
and busts down the door.
Liquor in hand,
it was thrown to the floor.
He calls out my name,
and I remain quiet,
under my bed,
I lay silent.
This has nothing to do with me. If this is happening to you though please call the domestic abuse line.
You're a man that is strong
And your patience is long.
Every work that you had,
You worked for it very glad.

I can see a man full of determination,
A man that always has his contribution
Cause i know that, affection,
Is always your intention.

You showed to us your love
That was given to you from heavens above.
Your love is very evident
That, it is a factor in our every achievement.

In every hard times you face,
Your emotions doesn't show in place.
Even if you doesn't show
In our hearts we always know.

Just remember that we are here
Ears open to hear
Hearts open to feel
And minds open to deal.
I made this poem when my father was forced to resign with his work years ago. It was when I saw the sadness in his eyes while leaving the premises of his world, his passion.
Polar Sep 2016
Child of mine please know

All things have a season

All things have a time

If stars can fall, then crash and burn

Humans fight and fail to learn

Then time has nought to teach

The blind will never learn to see

And the deaf will fail to hear

Even mighty rivers run dry

And seas can also die

Today

my heart stopped beating

But time has taught me this...

Love is where you find it

Follow joy wherever you can

Hope can spring eternal

Fellowship remains in man
cmy Oct 2014
---
There is no one in this world who could be like my papa
He is patient, kind and loving
He knows my worries and my fears
the cares of my world
my needs, my aims, my wants
He keeps me safe when darkness comes
At nights when I could not sleep
He is my hero, he is there
to hold and soothe me
Big, strong and brave
He is there
In the eyes of a little girl...I love you, papa...thank you for everything..God bless you everyday and always...=)))
---
Sy Lilang Apr 2015
Anak:
"Ika'y Tulang muli't muli'y binabasa ng madla,
Na 'di makalilimutan; na binabaon sa alaala
Tulang puno ng damdamin na ni nais ipabatid
At ang saknong ng pag-ibig Mo'y,
Siyang tutugma sa puso kong minsa'y naging sugatan."

Ama:
"Minsang ibinigay ko sa iyo ang pagkakataong
Unawain ang kahulugan ng kamusmusan.
Sa lupaing ugat ng iyong kaluluwa't
Siyang kanlungan ng mga pangako Ko't
Mga pangarap na laan sayo.
Bumangon ka, Anak
Ako ang Siyang sasagwan
Ako ang aabot sayo."

Anak:
"Sabay nating kinatha ang tula ng aking buhay;
Mga saknong at tugma na sarikulay,
Mga katagang baun-baon ko
Sa malayu-layong paglalakbay."

Ama:
"Pagal ka ma'y,
Nanahan pa rin sa puso ng bawat isa,
Di mo man tiyak ang katiyakan, natitiyak Ko
Na ang pag-ibig Ko'y, kailanma'y di ka iiwan.
Anak, hanggang sa huling tapon ng lupa
At huling tapon ng luha,
Hanggang sa huling liwanag
Ng itutulos mong kandila,
Hanggang sa huling pagpagpag mo
Ng sar't saring pangungulila,
Patuloy Kitang mamahalin,
Anuman ang mangyari."

Anak:
*
"Singbigat ng katotohanan
At ng pangarap na mala-kalawakan,
Ito ang huling handog ng makata mong anak:
Ang mabatid kong Ikaw ang buhay na eternal
At ako'y isang kathang Ikaw ang tinitingala --
Ikaw ang dinadakila.
Ama, ako'y malaya
Ikaw ang buhay, Ikaw ang agos
Ikaw ang tagumpay;
Gisingin Mo ang diwa
Ang bugso at alab ng damdaming hilaw
Ikaw ang masundan
Nang maihain nang patas
Ang pag-ibig Mong umaapaw."

#041215 ‪
Convo namin ni Lord
lost girl Jun 2014
I've been having a hard time lately
I'm sorry about that baby.
I close my eyes
And thoughts of what would have been flows by.
I squeeze my eyes to keep from crying.
I've been doing that a lot lately.
I just haven't been the same since I lost the baby.


(a.d)
Not about me.
Napabuntong-hininga na lamang
Tila ba tumatakbo ang bubutil na pawis sa noo niya
Sasabak na naman si Tatang sa gyera
Pilit binuhat ang sakong mas mabigat pa sa kanya
Marupok na ang mga buto
Ngunit hindi ang puso
Ang wika nya, "Walang hindi gagawin para sa apo."
Si Nena, sampu na ang anak
Hindi na magkanda-ugaga
Iiyak ang isa, gutom naman sa kabila
Sa sususunod na buwan,
malapit na siyang manganak
Ang ama ng mga bata, naroon sa kanto
nagpapakalunod sa alak
Sabi nga nila, walang hindi gagawin
ang magulang para sa anak.
Tanghaling tapat na,
almusal pa rin ang hinahanap
Natulala na lamang si Nena nang malaman,
ang tatay niya'y
patay na



-Tula X, Margaret Austin Go
Ellie Sep 2012
He hits me.
His own daughter.
Can't he see what this is doing to me?
Can't he see the bruises that he leaves?

The kids at school have started to ask questions.
I hate to think what would happen if they found out.
I don't want their pity.
I just want my father to stop.

He is always mad at me for something.
Like last night, for example.
I made him spaghetti instead of roast like he wanted.
So, what do I get? A beating. And he ATE the food anyway. Didn't give me a single bite.

I'm hungry.
I haven't had anything to eat in about 36 hours.
Why doesn't my father like me?
Did I do something wrong? I hope not.

He wasn't always like this.
It started years ago, when I was 9.
Right after my mother had killed herself.
I had found her, sitting on the bathroom floor with empty pill bottles spread out around her.

I ran to his work, telling him the news.
He took me home, sat me down. I thought he was going to comfort me. I was wrong.
He hit me. Just like that.
I've cried every night since. Silently, though. I don't want to give him the pleasure of knowing he hurt me.

I get good grades, have a good singing voice.
I am School Captain, have a pretty face.
I am good at the arts, excel in sports.
I am the luckiest girl in the world, right? Wrong. Couldn't be more wrong.

School ends.
I run home.
I write a note to my father:
'Goodbye. Mum wanted to get away from you, now I am too. And the only thing I regret is not doing it sooner.'

I lock myself in the bathroom.
No, I will not kill myself with pills.
I am not my mother.
I did not marry that sick man.

No, I will defy him in the best way possible.
I run out of the bathroom.
Grab a length of rope from the back shed.
Try and prepare for what comes next.

I still remember how to make a hangman's noose.
And there I go.
I hang myself.
Right above the front door. Where he will see what he made of his little girl.



The man weeps. He knew it was wrong.
He would have stopped if he knew it was this bad.
He hates himself, but he must go on with life - and make it a good one. He will show his darling daughter that he can be a good person.
He sits on the ground, thinking of what he made of his little girl...
Just so you know, this poem isn't about me. I don't know why I wanted to write it. I guess I just thought that if I wrote this poem, that it would help me understand. And it did.
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