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"gaffs" poems
Arrrh, here we be again at "Talk like a Pirate day" we'll spew our gaffs and have some laughs slappin wenches bums, while we're at play We'll have some grog mockin the captain's log reading lines of sea bound times and cabin boys, he's flogged When the eve be ov'r and drunken we'll awake it's out to sea, we'll all be nursing our headache Our love for wenches stowed miseries bandon'd in the hold mainsail's set, we'll not ferget we be pirates, young and old
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Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
Arrrgggh Pirates, revisited
[On my birthday] At low tide like this how sheer the water is. White, crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare and the boats are dry, the pilings dry as matches. Absorbing, rather than being absorbed, the water in the bight doesn't wet anything, the color of the gas flame turned as low as possible. One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire one could probably hear it turning to marimba music. The little ocher dredge at work off the end of the dock already plays the dry perfectly off-beat claves. The birds are outsize. Pelicans crash into this peculiar gas unnecessarily hard, it seems to me, like pickaxes, rarely coming up with anything to show for it, and going off with humorous elbowings. Black-and-white man-of-war birds soar on impalpable drafts and open their tails like scissors on the curves or tense them like wishbones, till they tremble. The frowsy sponge boats keep coming in with the obliging air of retrievers, bristling with jackstraw gaffs and hooks and decorated with bobbles of sponges. There is a fence of chicken wire along the dock where, glinting like little plowshares, the blue-gray shark tails are hung up to dry for the Chinese-restaurant trade. Some of the little white boats are still piled up against each other, or lie on their sides, stove in, and not yet salvaged, if they ever will be, from the last bad storm, like torn-open, unanswered letters. The bight is littered with old correspondences. Click. Click. Goes the dredge, and brings up a dripping jawful of marl. All the untidy activity continues, awful but cheerful.
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The Bight
[On my birthday] At low tide like this how sheer the water is. White, crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare and the boats are dry, the pilings dry as matches. Absorbing, rather than being absorbed, the water in the bight doesn't wet anything, the color of the gas flame turned as low as possible. One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire one could probably hear it turning to marimba music. The little ocher dredge at work off the end of the dock already plays the dry perfectly off-beat claves. The birds are outsize. Pelicans crash into this peculiar gas unnecessarily hard, it seems to me, like pickaxes, rarely coming up with anything to show for it, and going off with humorous elbowings. Black-and-white man-of-war birds soar on impalpable drafts and open their tails like scissors on the curves or tense them like wishbones, till they tremble. The frowsy sponge boats keep coming in with the obliging air of retrievers, bristling with jackstraw gaffs and hooks and decorated with bobbles of sponges. There is a fence of chicken wire along the dock where, glinting like little plowshares, the blue-gray shark tails are hung up to dry for the Chinese-restaurant trade. Some of the little white boats are still piled up against each other, or lie on their sides, stove in, and not yet salvaged, if they ever will be, from the last bad storm, like torn-open, unanswered letters. The bight is littered with old correspondences. Click. Click. Goes the dredge, and brings up a dripping jawful of marl. All the untidy activity continues, awful but cheerful.
Continue reading...
39
-Audience! Prepare for the magic act *Hypnotically launching attacks upon the helpless masses* Won't pull a rabbit from a hat, Rather false-flaggish gaffs Practically exposed to radioactive madness *(Feel the hurt disappear like doves Gloriously soaring out your *** Hijack these hijinks Whilst laughing maniacally   Tornado alley to the trailer-park mentality I call this a helluva brainstorm, High-velocity lethality Compose yourselves Are your brain-stems intact?   -Okay. Now *f o    l l o w the                                                                                                   swing of my                                                                                          pendulous p          e          n          m          a          n           s           h          i          p Drearily drift into dreamy trance, While I attempt to initialize a feat of mass hypnotization Enchantingly dip into deep illusory corridors of thoughts limitless* (Pay no attention to any slippage, Mental or otherwise It's already dripping out your ears & the seat of your pants) Real **** no gimmicks! Abracadabra Propaganda Extravaganza Gaze into my crystal ball Mouths agape in awe While I slay and lay waste indiscriminate to the faceless plague Come one, come all! Phantom sorcerer I am, conjuring unfathomable horrors To the collective mind procured through sleight-of-hand Voila! Still with us? Alright, hold your breath until you finally wake up And illuminate the bogus Hocus pocus front ♠     ♥     ♣     ♦ Shuffle the deck, Reset Earth's debts In a fabulous show of  m i s d i r e c t i o n ♠     ♥     ♣     ♦ Now, Ladies & Gents! For my final performance With this rope, Suspended from the throat I am going to bulls-eye myself In the frontal lobe Dead-center In front of all you people With this .40 caliber desert eagle! Graciously donated by our very own NWO (applause) This one's sure to be mind-blowing folks.
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Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 5:41 AM UTC
Smoke & Mirrors
-Audience! Prepare for the magic act *Hypnotically launching attacks upon the helpless masses* Won't pull a rabbit from a hat, Rather false-flaggish gaffs Practically exposed to radioactive madness *(Feel the hurt disappear like doves Gloriously soaring out your *** Hijack these hijinks Whilst laughing maniacally   Tornado alley to the trailer-park mentality I call this a helluva brainstorm, High-velocity lethality Compose yourselves Are your brain-stems intact?   -Okay. Now *f o    l l o w the                                                                                                   swing of my                                                                                          pendulous p          e          n          m          a          n           s           h          i          p Drearily drift into dreamy trance, While I attempt to initialize a feat of mass hypnotization Enchantingly dip into deep illusory corridors of thoughts limitless* (Pay no attention to any slippage, Mental or otherwise It's already dripping out your ears & the seat of your pants) Real **** no gimmicks! Abracadabra Propaganda Extravaganza Gaze into my crystal ball Mouths agape in awe While I slay and lay waste indiscriminate to the faceless plague Come one, come all! Phantom sorcerer I am, conjuring unfathomable horrors To the collective mind procured through sleight-of-hand Voila! Still with us? Alright, hold your breath until you finally wake up And illuminate the bogus Hocus pocus front ♠     ♥     ♣     ♦ Shuffle the deck, Reset Earth's debts In a fabulous show of  m i s d i r e c t i o n ♠     ♥     ♣     ♦ Now, Ladies & Gents! For my final performance With this rope, Suspended from the throat I am going to bulls-eye myself In the frontal lobe Dead-center In front of all you people With this .40 caliber desert eagle! Graciously donated by our very own NWO (applause) This one's sure to be mind-blowing folks.
Continue reading...
78
The Trouble with Dwarfs! Not snow white in fairy gaffs. Bashful indiscretion. Happy has a smiling face. Every now and then. Grumpy in the morning. When alarm says up you get. Off you have to go and play. Snow White, well she wants sweet sleepy's head. 'Hi ** hi ** It's off to work you go.' He said! ***** was once really ****** Till Doc he came along and moaned. Sneezy had the sniffles. Perhaps he was allergic. Wanted no more fairy gaffs. Only wanted lots of laffs! By ladylivvi1 © 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 9:21 AM UTC
The Trouble with Dwarfs!
Were You To Be Gone Could I carry on Were you to be gone I guess I can But do understand The skies would be blue But have no more color Not driving with you Would lose all of its wonder Songs would be noise Losing all of its joy Sunshine on Leith Sounding more like a bleat A walk through the mill Would only be Bill No longer as green A whole different scene Those rides to nowhere Would lose all of its flare I’d hear no more laughs For my driving gaffs Going out to eat Would just be that No longer sharing Just me getting fat Could I carry on Were you to be gone I guess I can Be a man with no plan
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Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 5:58 AM UTC
Were You To Be Gone
She dreams, I demise, She spies, I fly. I fall, She laughs, I scowl, She gaffs. We’d thorn, We’d born, We’d bend, We’d mend, And the grass would grow, And the moon would throw; When she dreams, When I dream, We dream, We dream, And dream once more.
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May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
She dreams, I despise
Trump missed a step today. It's sad to see such gaffs in a political career. The morn dawned clear and bright. Humidity had moved out overnight. (Precisely here was Donald's chance.) Sweet-tweeting sparrows trilled, bees buzzed industriously. As Nature wept for joy dew sparkled, zephyrs fresh and mild wafted the greenery. A sturgeon leaped. Had Don been up, inspired he could have said: "Were I your president I'd get my way, o people of America, instead of Tuesday I'd declare this Saturday!" Then even a hard-nosed realist as myself might vote for such a winning furry elf! ....naahhh  :)
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Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 12:35 PM UTC
O'de trompe
They claim to strongly stand in what they believe to set examples for strangers, like what I once was. And I see them with their wide smiles and hearty laughs So I approached them only to be hurt by their gaffs. Oh my... I forgot 'twas their kind from before. The kind that have hurt me, used me, lied to me, insulted me, and act plastic to me when it is done. I'm just an example of their aformentioned fun.
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Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
What's Above and What's Below