"fett" poems
The Christmas rush has started, and the countdown has begun
Advent doors are opened, but look what you have done
You've ridiculed the Bounty bar, and your spoiling all the fun
Why buy a Celebration, if your not happy after one ?
What's behind the cardboard doors, what did you all expect
A gold ring perhaps, or the keys for a corvette?
Why bother with an advent, when you have no respect
There's no need for chocolate genocide, or coconut neglect
You shouldn't be so outraged, with your Christmas Celebrations
I don't understand the malice, or the advent hesitations
If you don't want a bounty, buy heroes or sensations
It's hardly a matter for Interpol, or the united nations
Celebrations are your choice, there's no cause for your regret
The outcome is quite obvious, why are you so upset
Are the pictures not a clue, to what your gonna get ?
No rarity of Bounty hunters, so don't mess with Boba Fett
Are Maltesers that much lighter, in a Galaxy far away
Maybe you will find Mars, in between the Milky Way
A Twix or Galaxy Caramel, they we're for a different day
But you've dissed your celebrations, and no longer want to play
Some YouTube clips have surfaced, and I have read the blogs
I think it's just pathetic, seeing chocolate thrown down bogs
Your creating your own misery, as well as yule time logs
You won't be very happy, when your toilet blocks and clogs
On day two you still complained, and you wanted to resist
Is that because the chocolate, was not on your Christmas list
Would you be pleased with mistletoe, if you never did get kissed
Christmas spirit has been lost, with your Snickers in a twist
Some people are just morons, that's the message that they've sent
Their expectations are to high, and cruel jokes are never meant
Why is Bounty not as good, to start of an event
A Snickers in your calendar, doesn't mean a ruined advent
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
Many creationists view the duckbilled platypus as an enigma that evolution cannot explain.
Super-Platypus attempts to escape from aliens.
Am I one of yours? Little Platypus?
In August of that year the Submarine Support Depot
platypus debate began.
Out of a large cloth travel bag,
Diana pulled the furry platypus hand puppet
platypus-in-a-can.
Boba Fett told Darth Vader, "As you wish," he was really saying, "I love you."
I took a quiz once that told me I was a platypus in a past life.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
If you're a bird than I'm a stone
You are time & I had to toll
If you are lonely, I am alone
You rock but I don't roll
You are coffee, but I'm not creamer
You're a realist, **** that, I'm a dreamer
You are Han Solo, & I'm Boba Fett
Sometimes I think it'd be better if we never met
I hate you I hate you I hate you
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 6:22 AM UTC
by now you should have figured:
it's easier to satirise an everyday British
civilian with a radio,
than it is satirising a British politician
with a sense of rhetoric and
no Poker skills; instead viably
all cleavage with piquant punctuation,
zesty with a protruding ah...
an opera in glutton minor -
(never the colon preceding italicised
re-)
*meine land, meine land,
die land alle meine land
die land von Strauß -
die land von fett walküre -
gott ist tot: diät ist boren*.
it is easier to it's easier to satirise an everyday
British civilian with a radio,
than it is satirising a British politician
with anything than politics - as assured
with deciphering the enigma
or the British relations musicology speaking
relating to the continent with that
one favoured spy / messiah: Hændel - i.e.
the one admirer of Liszt that turned to terror tactics
and broke the pianist fingers in hope of the pianist
never wedging a Cuban cigar between middle and index;
love is such an oddity, it can make jealous men
love by hating into a choking joke.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
We were on top of your rooftop, still five inches between us, looking up the sky and fighting the urge to hold hands. I thought of all the things I kept within me.
I didn't even like you, at least that's what I thought.
I didn't like the way my name slips through your tongue or how calming your voice sounds over the phone.
I didn't like our late night conversations about how vast this universe is and how the both of us are mere particles in this world filled with billions, silently in anguish.
I didn't even like our afternoons spent biking around the park, enjoying the breeze and color of fall, our favorite season of all.
I didn't like the way you smile at me whenever I'm being serious, when I'm in this corner contemplating myself, you'll flash that sarcastic smile of yours that makes me want to punch you.
I didn't like the way your palm touches the back of my neck whenever we would kiss,
I didn't like the way you say "I love you", soothing and calming,
I hated myself for never saying it back.
"I love you" you would say
"I know" I'd reply
The truth is that I don't just like you or love you, it's a very shallow way of labeling what I truly feel for you.
My darling, I live for you.
I live for these moments, I live for your smile, your sweetness, and warmness. Even words aren't enough to describe the euphoria that you give me.
You've kept me alive, you're the reason of my every breath,
You're my rock.
And I live for you even when you drive me insane, especially then.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
And as my favorite book says
"“You can be Han Solo, ‘And I’ll be Boba Fett. I’ll cross the sky for you.”
Now we're back on your rooftop, hand in hand, no inches in between.
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 2:36 AM UTC
A cannibal of currency
You’re not yourself anymore.
Became your purse long ago,
Sense of self tied to coins
Of which you’ve never held.
Little man, little man,
where is your home?
The house on this hill
Just an empty shell
Painted like so much canvas.
There for the eyes of your peers
But your peers aren’t your friends
And your friends aren’t around
Tell me please, where did they go?
Little man, little man,
Do you hear the sound?
No one is calling your name
Where did they go
And where are they now
And why aren’t your friends in their homes?
Little man, little man
Do you hear the sound?
They’re making it plain as day.
You ate their income
Ate them of their house and their home.
A cannibal for currency-
Consumed all your friends,
Fat little pig on the hill.
Little man, little man
(You) can no longer ignore the sounds
Of ten thousand mouths
All hungry for you.
You ate their money
But you couldn’t stomach
The pure human spirit inside.
Now they have crawled back,
Out from the ghettos,
Starving and hungry for you.
Forced to eat each other,
You’ve all but raised cannibals,
But this time of flesh and of blood.
Little pig, little pig,
Can you hear the sound,
Or have you become deaf
To your own cries as well?
No one will miss you
You don’t have a home
Your friends became food
A long time ago.
(Die Geld von die Leute Sie Essen gekauft
Sie isst ihr Geld,
Mehr jeden Tag,
Kein Geld fur Essen
Sie isst Sich,
Jagd nach dem Hunger,
Fett kleiner Mann,
Jetzt der Jaeger ist Essen fur jeden Mund
Kleinen Schwein, Kleinen Schwein
Konnen Sie den ton horen?)*
Greasy lip smacks
Sound like ten thousand claps,
The only applause that you’ll ever hear.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC