Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Words
"filmore" poems
Thinking back to Thomas creek and sneaking a peak at the freaky little tweaker in blown out sneakers a toothless mistress second guessing ****** thrift dressed house guest ******* up my speakers blown out woofer wolfing down dinner mad slurping curry a beginner at twister her sister, disaster, got caught ******* the Doberman.. unable to find sobriety got gang ***** at the sorority doing an impression of Brad Dougherty shoes to tall falling all wobbly knees knocking hostilely like a rasta in Montgomery racially outcast Big Boi with a skin tare lash with passion unfashionable bastions with rashes wear red sashes like Communist fascists I‘m a pacifist with a speeding fist ready to dis any resistor to this transistor radio I eat filet-minion with boxers on my mind be gone, like, no one’s home and this body roams all alone with a ***** I’m a stoner, a postponer, ***** donor, out on loan bought and paid for, caught with a lawnmower, impersonating a horn blower like I was Gillespie at the Filmore, or Apollo theatre as a greater Walmart style wearing a wife beater, not a reader, sort of a ******* not like Kim, more like a mosquit-er drinking blood like it’s from a hummingbird feeder.
0
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
s-lyman-temple
crap rap 7 (MCDJpjs)
Thinking back to Thomas creek and sneaking a peak at the freaky little tweaker in blown out sneakers a toothless mistress second guessing ****** thrift dressed house guest ******* up my speakers blown out woofer wolfing down dinner mad slurping curry a beginner at twister her sister, disaster, got caught ******* the Doberman.. unable to find sobriety got gang ***** at the sorority doing an impression of Brad Dougherty shoes to tall falling all wobbly knees knocking hostilely like a rasta in Montgomery racially outcast Big Boi with a skin tare lash with passion unfashionable bastions with rashes wear red sashes like Communist fascists I‘m a pacifist with a speeding fist ready to dis any resistor to this transistor radio I eat filet-minion with boxers on my mind be gone, like, no one’s home and this body roams all alone with a ***** I’m a stoner, a postponer, ***** donor, out on loan bought and paid for, caught with a lawnmower, impersonating a horn blower like I was Gillespie at the Filmore, or Apollo theatre as a greater Walmart style wearing a wife beater, not a reader, sort of a ******* not like Kim, more like a mosquit-er drinking blood like it’s from a hummingbird feeder.
Continue reading...
16
by James Bruce You’re the top! You’re the top! You’re a Millard Filmore, You’re the top! You’re the Girls of Gilmore, You’re lucidity’s not Huckabee’s weird views, You’re an immigrator, A great debator, You’re not Ted Cruz! You’re the style, Of a Ronald Reagan, You’re the smile of a foxxy Megyn, Were you Hillary, you’d be pilloried, and flop! But if Donald, Ailes’s the bottom, you’re the top! You’re the top! You’re the Wall of China, You’re the top! You’re acute angina, You’re hyperbole that’s a felony in Queens, You’re Rand Paul’s mama, Barack Obama, You’re full of beans! You’re the star, Of the G.O.P. camp, You’re a jam on a Christie bridge ramp, I’m a crippling loan, a Roger Stone, a flop! But if baby, Jeb’s sunk lower, you’re the top! You’re the top! You’re a well-coiffed dandy, You’re the top! Your hair’s cotton candy, You’re assets vast that cast a glow of Trumpf You’re a Carly visage, The Greenwich Village, You’re Friedrich Drumpf! You’re demure, You’re a friend of pollsters, You’re the spur on some heels with holsters I’m not fit to race, too commonplace, a sop! But if Donald, I’m rock bottom, you’re the top!
0
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC
james-bruce
If Cole Porter Met the Donald
by James Bruce You’re the top! You’re the top! You’re a Millard Filmore, You’re the top! You’re the Girls of Gilmore, You’re lucidity’s not Huckabee’s weird views, You’re an immigrator, A great debator, You’re not Ted Cruz! You’re the style, Of a Ronald Reagan, You’re the smile of a foxxy Megyn, Were you Hillary, you’d be pilloried, and flop! But if Donald, Ailes’s the bottom, you’re the top! You’re the top! You’re the Wall of China, You’re the top! You’re acute angina, You’re hyperbole that’s a felony in Queens, You’re Rand Paul’s mama, Barack Obama, You’re full of beans! You’re the star, Of the G.O.P. camp, You’re a jam on a Christie bridge ramp, I’m a crippling loan, a Roger Stone, a flop! But if baby, Jeb’s sunk lower, you’re the top! You’re the top! You’re a well-coiffed dandy, You’re the top! Your hair’s cotton candy, You’re assets vast that cast a glow of Trumpf You’re a Carly visage, The Greenwich Village, You’re Friedrich Drumpf! You’re demure, You’re a friend of pollsters, You’re the spur on some heels with holsters I’m not fit to race, too commonplace, a sop! But if Donald, I’m rock bottom, you’re the top!
Continue reading...
41