"frigging" poems
Dead in the center of her heart I found a minotaur.
Of all things a frigging minotaur.
I stood puzzled as we locked eyes.
When I stumbled upon him he was sleep with today's newspaper drenched across his lap.
He bounced up in full guard.
Me being me I asked him for simple directions.
Telling him that I thought I was lost.
I planned on seeing heart shapes maybe a butterfly or two.
A big bunny shape thing or two but you, just wow.
He grinned slightly and said yeah that's the first time I've heard that one.
One step further, I added.
I take it from the amount of drool on the side of your lip you've been sleep for quite a while.
Now I don't mean to intrude on your guarding the labyrinth thing but,
How about you let me *** a smoke and we'll talk about it at the nearest dinner.
After all who can be mad over breakfast
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 5:56 AM UTC
You broke my heart
And threw it in a pile of dirt
I have no enemies
However, worse are you, than an enemy
Because, betrayal leaves scars
Which are even bigger than cars
And take as much time to heal
As it does, to complete a CA course
Which is of course, a huge deal!
You broke my heart
And caused me a lot of hurt
Truly did I care for you, you know
Thus, was it a massive blow
When we came to know the truth
Which destroyed the earth
On which my love was built
Since, loyal was I, to a fault
You broke my heart
And turned it into a shopping cart
You took advantage of my compassion
And used it as ammunition
For your deceitful modus operandi
However, thanks to the rescue operations
Led by my best friend and my sister
We put an end to the matter
However, rather protracted and tedious
Was the divorce process
And ultimately richer did you get, by a frigging four lakhs
For absolutely no fault of ours!!
You broke my heart
And ensured I nearly fell apart
However, healing am I
Slowly but surely
Thanks to my dear family
As well as my circle of friends
Not to mention, a few close cousins
All of whom ensure, I suffer not, for your sins
Our relationship may have had a bitter end
However, I am now free
And no longer, will I carry
The burden of a relationship
Which, in hindsight, was always going to be doomed
Even without all the cheating and manipulation
Of course, I may have to apply some caution
When it cometh to future relationships
However, I now understand the value of friendship
Better than ever!!
You broke my heart
However, I am making a conscious effort
To put all this behind
With the help of family, cousins and friends
As well as therapy
Of course, not always am I happy
But I am healing for sure
This experience having ensured
That I am working harder than ever
And allowing myself to be bored, never
I repeat, you broke my heart
However, you have made me more alert
I am now stronger than ever
And will allow myself to be cheated, never
What you did proved to be a blessing in disguise
Because, it has made me wise
And just a matter of time is it
Before my broken heart eventually heals!!
Feb 11, 2024
Feb 11, 2024 at 11:30 AM UTC
Don’t talk to me, I’m not in the mood
I’m tired, I feel sick, I have gone off my food
I have got heart burn, piles and I’ve got a sore back
Don’t argue with me, I won’t cut you any slack
I have got big, black bags, under my eyes
I look like I have eaten to many pies
I have stretchmarks, I look like a frigging map
The baby kicks me in the ribs when I'm trying to take a nap
I'm forever hot, I forever sweat
My ******* leak, my tops always wet
When I walk, I puff and I pant
I can’t wait to have this baby, I hate being Pregnant
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 9:14 AM UTC
I finally figured a piece that could fit
Decent enough to mention
That gets deeper with each visit
And though it wasn't my intention
We invented vivid scriptures Shakespeare would weep to
Crackheads could sleep to
That's just the calm of absolution as it creeps through
We never needed a deity's forgiveness or god to bear witness
To this **** that we do behind closed doors cause in these moments I'm finally yours
And that's all that should matter
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 11:42 PM UTC
I don't know.
I'm sad
and I'm mad
about being so sad.
Because I know life isn't so bad,
and I'm trying to add
more of the happiness I've previously had
and I'm so dang glad
I mean, I can see the blessings I have.
But no matter how bad
I want to not be sad
or how hard I try...
I still sit here with tears in my eyes
and I'll tell you "I'm fine."
And you know it's a lie;
I'm holding on for dear life.
I am tired
and the fire
in my eyes?
Along with my cloudy heart,
and the cloudy skies;
those flames
are dimming
going out with the city lights
in the middle of the night
Like if I just hide
and take some time
to get things right
The despair will somehow
dissapear from my mind.
Maybe if I try
being kind
to myself
...and my heart and my mind
I will be fine
sometime.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
The intimate mountain--
Weekends in a mercury supermarket--
And the nearly vindictive lilt in
Your voice when you drop the
Last 'T' in restaurant!
Perhaps for just a few months
We might dispense with the honorifics,
Because we each know perfectly
Well your finger-ring has a smile
For no one but me.
The first autumn was always impossible for me
(or at least it will be).
Winds winding like a clarinet--
A boulangerie cover of
Dies Irae.
Now where have I misplaced my
Sensory glands? Charles
Walks an intricately awkward emphasis
In ungodly,
Strangely comfortable stilettos.
The emcee has no frigging
Idea what the people want to hear anymore.
His serape and his wine--
Not to mention his women,
Although I have just now.
Poor little frog.
It looses owners off its skin
Like tadpole-seeds, over
A game of backgammon
That never really cheats anybody.
The abandoned LiveJournal account.
The forgotten Myspace passwords.
The iPod that hasn't been updated in years.
The body slumped on a threadbare sofa.
The broken earbuds and busted eardrums.
Start spreading the news:
I've already left.
Go and empty the pews;
My mother bereft.
And the Chamber of Commerce wants to blame the ****** on me.
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 6:25 PM UTC
I have been yearning for true love
For years and years
For decades and decades
I have seen it in movies
I have read it in books
But to experience it in real life
Is a different feeling altogether
Of course, when you have lived
For as long as thirty two years
It is utterly impossible
Not to fall in love
At least once, or maybe even twice
And I am not even counting crushes
They are as ephemeral
As the life of a mayfly is
The love bug has bitten me twice
However, on both occasions
The love has been more lop-sided
Than the recent Men's Ashes
On the first occasion
I was slower than a snail
By the time I finally confessed my feelings
The girl was already engaged
On the second occasion
It was an arranged marriage
After two initial meetings
Followed by two months
Full of frequent phone calls
We had a rather simple engagement
Since then, it was apparent
That the going was smooth
Even if it was a long-distance relationship
However, just before the wedding
The pandemic chose to strike
The marriage had to be postponed
By five frigging months
Consequently, things were never the same again
Mind you, I was very much in love
But, as I mentioned earlier
It was a long-distance relationship
And I could sense
That slowly, but surely
The girl was beginning to fade away
And the marriage, when it eventually happened
Was an absolute trainwreck
Now, a year and a half later
I am single again
And the quest for true love continues
This time, I hope and pray
That when I do fall in love again
It will be duly reciprocated
And will be as long-lasting
As the love
That my family has for me
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 12:50 PM UTC
*You called me your guiding star
That's quite true.
I burnt myself
and risked my whole existence
Just to light you way
For a few second*
*You called me your anchor
That's quite true
I sunk myself
To keep you at one place*
*You compared me with the moon
I get it now why
I scarred myself for life
just to be noticed,
To stand out
from the darkness
all around me*
I gave you my all,
'cause i thought i could be your all
I tried to fix you
ignoring how in the process
I almost bled myself to death
*I swallowed shards of glass
and yet never let my smile falter*
**I Wiped Your Tears
While Mine Were Left Abandoned
To Dry On Their Own**
I tried healing your wounds
while mine got deeper
And I swear
I tried my best
To spare our friendship
Losing my love was bad enough
but my best friend too?
How on Earth
was i supposed to get through this
So,
I stayed
Put on my daily show
but you knew me
too well to fall for that facade
And that's whAT hurt most
**the warmth in your eyes
that once felt like home
sheltering me from world's cold ways
was now gone
replaced
replaced by this coldness**
*Your skin
was the only home i ever knew
but i realized,
i was not welcome any more*
And I relized that
that hardest way possible
yet i stayed
'cause i just could not leave
I did not know how to leave
I loved you so frigging much
and everything just kept getting worse
YOU WERE NO LONGER THE SUN
but a blackhole
swallowing all the good memories
devouring them all
till there was not a trace of light
inside me
till there was nothing left to me
till i became the ghost
of the girl who i used to be
And all those good days
they seem like a distant dream
and i don't even know if what i'm writing
makes any sense
my hands won't stop shaking
or my head shouting
it keeps yelling
YOU NEVER FELL FOR ME
YOU SLIPPED
UNKNOWINGLY
A MISTAKE'YOU REGRET EVERY DAY
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
Far away from today,
There is something vital I must say
Your life meant frigging dirt to me
6ft under was your destiny.
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 6:22 PM UTC
A pensioner's long walk today,
Yes, the mailman's been, no yah!
What bills did arrive this way?
Postman, postman, stay away,
I am putting up a sign,
"BAN THE BILLS!' about frigging time!
If all bill payers went on strike,
Bills would go down, not upwards hike,
Yes, it's that dreaded long walk again,
Should I throw the bills down the drain?
A gutter too far, or in the bin?
Bringing us bills is the postman's great sin,
Can't afford that, can't afford that,
"I'll shoot you, postman, now don't come back!"
Is shooting postmen a capital offence?
"BAN THE BILLS!" on everyone's fence!
Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 5:01 PM UTC
When you wrote a short poem, you were in the mood for a quickie.
Meant you had no patience for me and didn't want my attention.
You got a short attention span, lack of patience and you hurl insults.
Wish you really loved me like I loved you, what you love is money.
Felt dead for years and missed the sweet you that went slow making love.
You lost interest when I lost my job for a few months, you hurled loser.
You did not want to be tied to a frigging loser, died inside dozens of times.
My heart ache was his gain, you met your lover boy in the stables.
Tried like hell to keep you happy, you did not want that from me.
You only wanted it from him, he had a good job but not like me.
I can't get back what I felt for you once you hurled insults at me.
You got dollar signs for eyes and money centered.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
Does expectation ever stop?
When you are at school
You are expected to get good marks
In all the subjects
Your life is decided
By your ability to memorise things
You are compared with others
Your cousins, your neighbours
Your friends, your classmates
All the time
You, as an individual
Are reduced to a mere shadow
Does expectation ever stop?
When you are at college
You are expected to achieve a high CGPA
Never mind the fact
That not getting arrears
Is practically an achievement
Especially as far as engineering is concerned
And if you happen to fail
People speak in whispers or hushed voices
When referring to you
And when you graduate
But fail to land a placement
You are seen as "that jobless guy"
And your character traits, whether good or bad
Turn out to be immaterial
In the mad race for status
Does expectation ever stop?
When you are a working professional
You are constantly asked about your salary
And it is compared
With that of every frigging relation of yours
Whether close or distant
Not to mention, neighbours
And their families as well
Does expectation ever stop?
When you are single
People constantly bring up marriage
As though it is something
That any decent human being must go through
And when you are married
Your wife also becomes a victim
Of all these crazy expectations
And you, as a couple
Are also compared to other couples
Does expectation ever stop?
When you get divorced
People keep poking and prying
Until they finally manage to extract from you
All the juicy details
But these vultures don't stop at that
They also want to know
When will your next marriage be
Your freedom means absolutely nothing to them
Does expectation ever stop?
When you are overweight
You are constantly advised
To go to the gym
Go for morning or evening walks
And again you are compared
With everyone who is slimmer than you
In the entire neighbourhood
Does expectation ever stop?
Being a good person is not enough
Having a good job is not enough
Earning a decent salary is not enough
Having a good family is not enough
In fact, nothing is ever enough
You practically need to become God
In order to satisfy the expectations
Of our ultra-greedy society
A society that never stops expecting
Until you are dead
Seriously, does expectation ever stop?
Jan 9, 2023
Jan 9, 2023 at 11:40 AM UTC
Would I still be me
If I did not have
These fancy words to bleed
I'm the pebbles in my pocket
That keeps me drowning
Farther into depth
I'm the frigging rescue boat too
And I'm yet learning
how to deal with that
I like to sit and watch
The world
Never bothering to participate
I like to live in my past
And wish on the stars
That are long dead
would I still be me
If I did not have
these fancy words to bleed
I'm the only cloud in my own sky
Blotting a perfect view.
I'm the blazing sun too.
And I'm trying to learn how
To take responsibility
If It rains down on me
I like to dodge away
All these sad incidences
I turn them into art, When they hit me
I like to use my words
To guide me out of my own head; It's the only time i make sense to myself
Would I still be me
If I did not have
these fancy words to bleed?
I'm the lonely dandelion
Having myself blown away
To the ten directions
I'm the wind too
Challenging everything that
Gets in my way
I like to look at the trees
I like to have the wind whisper my name
I would like to be you
I would like to be him
Without ever losing the essence
Of my true self
Would I still be me
If I did not have
these fancy words to bleed
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
Tuesday Weld was a frigger
She was friggin' everywhere and
Everywhere she went, she frigged
As a matter of fact
There wasn't a day that went by
In which Tuesday wouldn't frig
She frigged at the supermarket
She would frig at the mall
She frigged at the movies
She frigged at the gas-pump
She was caught frigging at the dentist
She even frigged down the shore
All her twenty-seven siblings
Worked the local house of ill-repute
It had a bar inside of it
And was Whorethorne's best kept secret
Even the police would get laid there (on Tuesdays)
Finally, the townspeople of Whorethorne
Could not take it anymore
And they burnt down The Barn
Then, just like Tuesday
They too
Went frigging nuts
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
The Kid sits
opposite
the wheelchair
with Anne
telling him
about her
painful leg
when it aches
it frigging
drives me mad
she tells him
she pulls up
her red skirt
to show him
the naked
stump of leg
yet it aches
in the part
that's not there
she explains
he gapes at
the fleshy
stump of leg
why is that?
he asks her
how the heck
would I know
pull that down
this moment
the nun says
angrily
coming near
from the home
her black and
white habit
flapping quick
about her
Anne stares
at the nun
what's got your
white knickers
in a twist?
she utters
to the nun
who do you
think you are
showing off
your leg stump?
she yanks down
the red skirt
to cover
the leg stump
don't touch me
you penguin
Anne says
decency
my young girl
you Benny
why are you
watching her?
the nun asks
I showed him
where it hurts
Anne says
you shouldn't
show your leg
it's my leg
what is left
don't be rude
the Kid looks
at the nun
just looking
what she showed
just her stump
he explains
you mustn't
the nun says
anymore
doing that
young Anne
and I'll tell
Sister Paul
and the nun
walks away
her habit
flapping slow
about her
as she walks
what a dumb
arsed penguin
Anne says
they both watch
the young nun
as she walks
on the lawn
to the home
for sick kids
by the sea
anyway
that's my leg
or the stump
do you want
another
look and see?
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
That rather awkward moment
When you try to find a rhyme
So you bend over backward
Trying to keep time
And it ends up sounding forced
Even slightly trite
Like you literally sat there
All frigging night
And sweated and banged
Your head on a wall
Trying to come up with
Anything at all
That would sound like a rhyme
Because you are a poet
And you've written before
Though no one would know it . . .
There is such a thing
As a poem with no rhyme
It's called free-verse, ******* -
You should try it sometime.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 1:56 AM UTC
It was off Harper Road
on some bombsite
houses half standing
half rubble
you and Jim
and some other kids
were climbing
amongst the ruin
the holidays just begun
the sun shining
on your heads
Coppers!
one kid shouted
and you all began
to climb out
of the ruined house
and onto the rubble
a police car had parked
on the edge
of the road
and two policemen got out
what you lot doing in there?
one of the coppers said
come on line up
the other said
so you all lined up
against the wall
surrounding the bombsite
what were you doing in there?
the copper asked
playing
Jim said
having fun
another kid said
don’t you know it’s illegal
to play
on theses condemned houses?
he said
didn’t know
a fat kid said
at the end
the copper
walked along the line
studying each boy in turn
asking each one
their name and address
you listened
sweating
your nerves on edge
your ears pricked
the answers the boys gave
were lies you knew
because Jim had said
Barny Broadbridge
and his address
was not were he lived
you
the copper said
what’s you name?
your mind went a blank
don’t know
you said
the copper smacked you
around the face
your name kid what is it?
your cheek stung
tears welled in your eyes
Brian Tolling
you muttered
saying whatever came
into your head
where do you live?
you made up a number
to a block of flats nearby
the other kids glared
at the coppers
as they walked
along the line
you saw a watery blur
of colours
right get off home
and if we see you
on here again
we’ll come and see your parents
get it?
he closed
his black note book
and they climbed back
in the car and drove off
up you copper
the fat kid said
lifting a finger
to the far away car
you all right?
Jim asked
you rubbed your cheek
blinked tears
out of your eyes
he came in to focus
yes
you said
didn’t hurt
frigging flatfoot
the other kids laughed
and the fat kid
patted your back
see you around
they said
and you and Jim
walked down
Rockingham Street
the sun peering over
the flats where
you did not live
back to Jim’s place
to look at his knives
and get on
with your schoolboy lives.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 3:31 AM UTC
Sylvia, don't cry.
Come and sleep next to me in this grassy field.
Our knees touching like two knobby parentheses
cupping words whispered between us at 3 am.
Vulnerable.
Venerable.
My dearest sister in arms.
And if it makes you happy
we could talk about literature and Gods and good art and tea and faithless fathers and lovers.
Sylvia, don't cry.
Scream at me if it makes things okay.
Curse at the yellow moon hanging in the starless sky like a gold pendulum.
Break all the mirrors and wall clocks.
But don't run after a train that has already left that foggy station.
Sylvia, don't cry.
Stop scraping the answers to your sorrows off that crusty oven floor.
Go, open the kitchen window.
Sylvia, don't cry.
Next time the phone rings during dinner
Rip out the ******* cord
And choke that soulless *******
Sylvia, don't cry.
Find a ladder and climb the frigging tree
Stuff your mouth with purple figs
until your belly aches.
Don't wait for them to fall on the ground.
Keep eating.
Sylvia, don't cry.
Slice their throats with your cursive knives
When men say
that a girl poet must bleed on the quill she writes with.
Smear your cheeks with their blood.
Battle paint.
My brave Amazonian.
Sylvia, don't cry.
I know at times
it feels as if your spirit is trying to
climb its way out of your own body
Stop swallowing stones to weigh it down.
Hold my hand.
It'll get better, I promise.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
I'm gonna puke
on the mirror
or on the street puddle
or if I could, on my own frigging eyes.
All that reflects.
I'm gonna puke
on the atmosphere
or on the clear window
or if I could, on my own foul heart.
Why isn't it raining hard?
The clouds
aren't afraid of me?
On them I'm also gonna puke.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 10:27 AM UTC
Her name’s Jane I think
said Jupp
standing beside you
in the school hall
as the girl on the school bus
went by with a slow walk
carrying a bag
over her shoulder
and her dark hair
flowing down her back
anyway he added
how are you getting on
with that maths work
chisel face gave us?
You watched
until she disappeared
into a crowd of other
girls and boys
like watching
the sun go down
on a fine summer’s day
and entering
a dull night
huh? Said Jupp
how you coping
with the **** maths?
All Greek to me
you said
carrying the image
of the girl off with you
as Jupp and you
made your way
along the corridor
to double metalwork
and this metalwork
Jupp moaned
it really ****** me off
what do I care
about making
a frigging tea caddy spoon?
And passing by
a print on the wall
of some Manet dame
you thought
how you’d love
to have a print
of the girl
to carry about
or have pinned
to your bedroom wall
at home
huh? Said Jupp
what’s with spoons?
I’ve no idea
you said
all part
of the brainwash
I guess
and did the girl
move you?
you asked inside
oh yes
oh yes
oh yes.
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
My overweight little old dog
Nudges my cheeks
Out of sleep
Waking me
In a way Telling me
He's about to **** the house!
Quickly now I take him out
To the Front patch of lawn
Now frigging covered in freezing snow
The early morning storm, winter-silent
The sky thick-grey with flurrying
Falling snow
**** It's really coming down
Hard
To believe, almost apocalyptic
Snow in Sin City!
Someone tell Trump this is "Global Warming”
A desert dressed in glowing snow.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 11:35 PM UTC
Failure hurts, no doubt
Especially when you are in Recruitment
A profession which depends on people
As much as India used to depend on Sachin Tendulkar
In the late nineties
But you know what hurts more than failure?
Imagine a T20 match
Where your team has dominated
From start to finish
And still managed to end up on the losing side
Due to a couple of bad *****
From your best bowler
In the very last over
Now, apply the same analogy to Recruitment
You have put your heart and soul
Into a particular mandate
Done a thorough search, through various portals
Called up as many candidates as possible
Presented quality profiles to the client
And lined up interviews one after the other
Everything has been worked out
To the tiniest detail
However, at the eleventh hour
The candidate backs out
Thus, you have no choice
But to start all over again
And this happens not once
Not twice
Not even thrice
But a frigging four times
However, you are no ordinary recruiter
You are a recruiter who possesses the heart of a lion
Thus, you prepare yourself for the long haul
Determined to do whatever it takes
To close this mandate, once and for all
And your efforts do pay off
Or at least, they seem to
For the client, it is a choice
Between two worthy candidates
However, as always, there is a hitch
One of the candidates has started showing signs of cold feet
While the other has to take a pay cut
That too a big one
This mandate now hangs on a knife-edge
So, it is not failure that hurts the most
But coming within an inch of success
After months of hard work
Only to have it slip through your fingers
At the very last minute
Jan 4, 2023
Jan 4, 2023 at 11:30 PM UTC
Someone's staring at me
right now
here on this subway.
His eyes have not left mine.
He looks crazy and nervous,
a young guy,
a twitchy-looking young guy.
I have a feeling he's going to jump me
or rob me,
maybe shoot me
or stab me.
He's probably looking for money
for a fix.
He's going to follow me off this frigging subway car
and then he's going to slit my throat
and throw me on the tracks.
This maniac drug addict
is going to **** me
and buy some ****** or crack
or whatever these ********* scummy losers buy
to get high
and he's going to leave me on a subway track
with blood streaming out of my neck,
my mouth a pool of blood.
He's waiting for me to get off here
at the Spring Garden stop.
Well, forget it *******
my wild-eyed doped-up piece of slime.
I won't get off here.
Wait a minute.
He just got off here
and the door closed.
I see him running up the steps
probably to catch a bus
or **** someone on the street.
Thank god he's gone.
I was sure he was going to knife me.
I had it all figured the hell out.
I even stayed in this piss-ridden
rat hole of a subway car
and now this means I have to get off
at the next stop and go over to the other side
of the station
and take another subway
back to the Spring Garden stop.
I have totally ******* up.
I talked myself out of getting off at my stop and
now I'm totally messed up.
I've got to stop thinking like this.
This paranoid crap is taking its toll.
It tricks me,
confuses me,
frightens me.
I have to be calm now,
just get ahold of myself.
I'm standing up
to get off at the next stop.
Now I'm by the door.
What's going on here?
I just noticed
two guys sitting over there
just a few seats down
on the left
and they're looking at me.
One's got a mile-long scar
on the side of his face.
These guys are trouble.
The other one just put his hand in his pocket
like he's got a gun or something.
Holy Christ!
I've got to get off.
Maybe my mind's just playing tricks on me.
I don't know what to think.
I'll just stand here by the door.
The stop's coming up.
Christ! They just got up and
they're walking toward me
and now they're standing behind me.
I can see their reflection in the door's glass.
I can almost feel one of them breathing
on the back of my neck.
I'm trapped now...nowhere to go...nowhere!
The door's opening and I step out
into the dark.
I'm a dead man.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
Don't talk to me about rules of Engagement
What's knowledge, wisdom and Truth
nothing but a tag on a Robert Grahame shirt
What do you mean decency, fair-play and Justice
was your God fair and just when he landed me in Goebbels
and give me to that drunkard thief and his street gal wife
Oh no, I don't deserve a silver spoon and a dad in Stockbroker belt
yeh, no Private School, no allowance, no frigging ski trips in Gstaad
Bollinger sounds like a gun, pink gins and cucumber wedges foreign
Don't talk living harmoniously with all classes and races
I live my way and make my rules as I go along
the first law is do it to them before they do it to you
education is **** if God wanted me to have a mind he forgot
what he gave was a gob full of **** and a Doctorate in telling lies
in our world telling the truth means you're blind, slow and stupid
I ain't a mug but a mugger, I ain't a fool,I only live to fool the fools
Am a hater and proud of it, why was I assigned to the Losers section
What made God decide my gob is not good enough for a Silver spoon
Don't you dare give me that glib 'That's Life' shit'
keep your philosophizing to your bleeding self
we ain't buying claptrap anymore, it's war now, revolution
it's them and Us. no quarter given, everything taking from the rich
what gives you the right to live better than me. Mr High an Mighty
who brooker your deal with God for all the privileges you enjoy
swanning around thinking you're better than me in your Ivory gaff
hate burns relentlessly, my frustration unabashed I join satan's lot
Yes, it's not a frigging fair world so don't talk to about Justice an love
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC
Bro1: ..... you look like you got hit by a TRAIN!!!! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!?!
Bro2: I pulled a gun on God.
Bro: ...what? where's the gun?
1: I don't frigging know.
2: you look like you got mauled!! How are you alive?!?!
1: turns out God is just a fighter. Not a killer. I love you.
2: ......what the hell happened to you?
1: I just told you.
2: what did you drink......
1: let's just say I will be hung over for. eternity. I love you.
2:.......you're scaring me.
1: and you're scaring me too.
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 5:59 PM UTC