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"flasher" poems
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, never been more frustrated for not remembering a dream:_( deja vu brought to view even better this time that was like the twisted flu an erase my system moonlighted on me frustrate to repeat sunset a truck corner an autumn lasting in the backseat forget that the ocean sailed and orange witches golden a town of ancient camps imagined clean desires and broken any subconscious stubborn to hold on inner fantasy? cause me can't reach a fulfill a journey come to and ending duality violet unaware a desire everlasting bel air do dreams come true flasher in sharp not matter mere??? bare me the renaissance a century in ancestry fading memory far pieced in my head puzzled mad realization aiming stars magnetism the hell it means dungeon and dilemma bolds sharp steeps deepen the voices running struggles put to the sold -----ravenfeels
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Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 5:51 PM UTC
Impossible Been Seen For Me Not You
This was the year we All got our Lost Boys names. (No, not the vampires...we're Lost. On Neverland. In Neverland?)           Pillows McGee first, I think. "That's mine--you can stick it wherever." "Awww...I want a Happy Trail." Or maybe it was Lucky. For he truly was a lucky sonofabitch that night. "It's nice when a guy gives your ****** back when he's done." What's the most important ingredient to a friendship, Lucky? "Another person." True dat, Lucky. True dat.                          *  all nod  *                              Smokestacked! She smokes! And she's stacked! Inspirational. Charming. "I'm always on a quest for a ****** VERY ADAMANT: "I don't like **** Snakes are okay!"       Forking Ariel had quite a bit to drink. She wanted to know why she wasn't a lesbian. She wanted to **** on the end...but none of us can remember the end of what, anymore. We just wrote it down because it sounds filthy.      We like filth. Forking Ariel lost her box at some point. Probably around the time      she told us she doesn't **** the end and she doesn't just grab it. ...otter pops? FLASHER!          "I'll get it with my teeth." Yeah, you will. Flasher gave the last Lost Boy their name: "I'm gonna have to go for Bushless Red." Lucky: "That sounds like a cigarette. There's nothing I like more between my lips than Bushless Red."              Bushless Red hasn't had a Happy Ending, apparently, but she likes her cigarette commercial. She's Painful, Feminine, and Appetizing. "I say we all do it on the bed, because--" ...giggles uncontrollably.                     Dear Diary,                                Today, I discovered that heaven is in Cillian Murphy's pants. Or Forking Ariel's.                                                                       Also, an important ingredient in a friendship is another person. ~Bushless Red.
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Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 2:13 PM UTC
The Second Annual Lost Boys Thanksgiving
This was the year we All got our Lost Boys names. (No, not the vampires...we're Lost. On Neverland. In Neverland?)           Pillows McGee first, I think. "That's mine--you can stick it wherever." "Awww...I want a Happy Trail." Or maybe it was Lucky. For he truly was a lucky sonofabitch that night. "It's nice when a guy gives your ****** back when he's done." What's the most important ingredient to a friendship, Lucky? "Another person." True dat, Lucky. True dat.                          *  all nod  *                              Smokestacked! She smokes! And she's stacked! Inspirational. Charming. "I'm always on a quest for a ****** VERY ADAMANT: "I don't like **** Snakes are okay!"       Forking Ariel had quite a bit to drink. She wanted to know why she wasn't a lesbian. She wanted to **** on the end...but none of us can remember the end of what, anymore. We just wrote it down because it sounds filthy.      We like filth. Forking Ariel lost her box at some point. Probably around the time      she told us she doesn't **** the end and she doesn't just grab it. ...otter pops? FLASHER!          "I'll get it with my teeth." Yeah, you will. Flasher gave the last Lost Boy their name: "I'm gonna have to go for Bushless Red." Lucky: "That sounds like a cigarette. There's nothing I like more between my lips than Bushless Red."              Bushless Red hasn't had a Happy Ending, apparently, but she likes her cigarette commercial. She's Painful, Feminine, and Appetizing. "I say we all do it on the bed, because--" ...giggles uncontrollably.                     Dear Diary,                                Today, I discovered that heaven is in Cillian Murphy's pants. Or Forking Ariel's.                                                                       Also, an important ingredient in a friendship is another person. ~Bushless Red.
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41
A flasher opens his trench coat, the ladies laugh out loud, HOW SMALL IS THAT Is it that COLD the ladies are heard shouting out, the flasher embarrassed sulks away, with his belittled ego and his tiny mushroom under his rain coat, never was he seen again.
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May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:09 AM UTC
Flasher
IN THE GREATEST SINGING COMPETITION OF ALL AUSTRALIA NOW HAS MADE IT'S MARK A FAN OF THE COMPETITION FLASHES HIS *** IN THE DARK NOT A STREAKER AT THE CRICKET NOT A *** CRACK AT NIGHT BUT HE IS DRAPED IN THE FLAG HIS *** IS SHINING BRIGHT THIS RECOGNITION WE REALLY DON'T NEED ONLY WINNING THE CONTEST DID MATTER BUT A LAD FLASHING HIS *** DID REALLY START INTERNET CHATTER
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May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 6:56 PM UTC
THE FLASHER
We walked down the street, Sharp and cold. Past the drunk flasher And the broken boys on bicycles. London, blue and orange, Gives in to winter nights like I Give in to sleep; Guarding myself against the dreams That always, always come. But through exhaust fumes And chemical hazes, I still see the blinking Christmas lights, And the pale death of autumn Feels like my resurrection.
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Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
since november
An indigent old man, in a drunken stupor, with the grime of the streets on his skin, with twigs and **** in his beard, indecently exposes his junk. And a cardboard sign saying he’s hungry. The flasher from the window of a motel, opens the curtains for the lunch crowd to view his flaccid, Rolly Polly obesity, just standing there Full Monty, ******* his thumb. The audience grow restless, having had a laugh, they begin to grumble and point their fingers with concern angering their faces. The **** bearded *** points along with the crowd, “hey look! There’s a streak—burp! —in the window there! Look! Heheh.” “Your fly’s undone dude,” claims a passerby. **** you! No flies will come, it was just a movie!” His **** still hanging out. In the nursing home, sometimes old age can’t catch up with the fact that everything seems like it’s slowly melting, especially them home folks’ skin. A sagging sad white haired lady, with nothing on, holding on for dear life, stuck in her walker, in the middle of the hallway right before the lunch crowd. “Help Lifealert!”
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Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 1:04 PM UTC
Bare Minimalists