"fukd" poems
No matter who i love
*** is a hunger.
when your hungry you eat.
when your horney you ***
and ive fallen in love
before ***
during ***
after ***
in a minute im sure..
to a person ive known or now know.
and guess what:
everyone ive ever loved ive loved.
everyone ive ever fukd ive fukd.
and both are a hunger
of which im unfulfilled.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC
all those Bad people? those ******** who arent even civil enough to take a life?
those monsters:
who capture the lives and take from them. take eyes and fat and wombs. wutever they take. they kno. from things that kno its very very bad. well they dont really understand, i Guess.
those dont feel wut theyre doing anyway. and they make profit to keep their homes clean and large but i doubt any strength is involved with their families living in such nice homes. putting on daddys makeup from the stupid monkeys and whales and complaining in adolescence but full of makeup probably later on. because we have to forgive. and the stupid monkeys have no idea. wut the whale is feeling. because neither of them kno, but they feel it.
and wen things are bad...those PEOPLE, those people who do the worst and are covered by law while the dying worlds got their baks, wen things get reeeeal bad...for those really Fukd up pieces of **** in sharkskin suits? wen that happens like that to them, they **** their sharkskin pants. because they all believe in god against their better judgment wen their in a tigers mouth or sinking from a ship or being ***** and their face smashed by animal hands. so i guess they feel wuts populating their lives and then their souls too. i guess i havent really told you wut this makes me feel. and i dont kno wut to think. no one does. and i havent done anything.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
Kriekgeguard: Sö tall meh how ya doeth wit despair,
and all fir of flams flewing and chewing yir up,
that the hole time yir piercenality waz,
so streing to solve it, but yir did it,
in wreighting of odders wreighting yirself down,
for yirs and yirs and yirs, the hole time
and wie all wanted tingz easey,
sö as yi sayeth, you maketh things hart,
möre difficult for understanding,
how to deal cards with comeflict
as it is with the absolutelysurd world?
Crosstianity, come thinkets, is nothing 'ese aftir all.
So cometh rill empairic, roll yir thongue.
Tall true the true tailing.
Sore: Tired Ae got.
But righting is noting,
it is a smull bud of rose,
and roses out of noting,
Ignore how day and day only tell you:
"You are a great prose stylist, you know the craft, I don't"
For a fukd, Ae might be called a prose cyclist,
but it is not me, it is the kisses muse,
you never forget it for a fukd,
first you note in, then you synthesize, symphonise, syncrosise.
It is all just music.
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 7:19 PM UTC