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"gaga" poems
Tahimik at tila nawalan na ng ganang huminga ang mundo Nakasarado ang mga labing to pero alam kong punong puno ng mga sigaw ng mga hagulgol ng mga mura na pinipilit na hindi makawala Dahil alam ko na kahit ang boses ay maubos hanggang sa tuluyan nang mapaos Hindi mo pa rin pakikinggan Dinadaan nalang ang mga sakit na naipon sa pagsulat sa basang pahinang pinipilit mang pagtagpiin ay tuluyan nang napupunit Gawa ng mga luhang kumakawala sa mga matang bulag Marahang pinapahid dahil sa namamagang pisngi Katulad ng pag-iibigan natin Sa pahinang ito Tuluyan nang nawasak at paunti unti nang naglalaho Nabura na ang tinta at naging malabo na ang mga salitang Mahal na mahal kita Ipipikit nalang ang mga mata para tumigil na Kasabay ang paghaplos sa nanlalamig na espasyo Sa bandang kaliwa ng ating kama Dito dating nakahimlay ang isang nilalang na nagbigay halaga sa kalawakan Ang nagparamdam ng tunay na kahulugan ng buhay at pagmamahal Pinapaniwalang ang pag-iibigan ay tunay at magtatagal Pero mahal Bakit ang mga halik ay napalitan ng mga mura Ang mga yakap ay napalitan ng mga sampal At ang mga matamis na ngiti ay napalitan na ng matalim na mata Nasaan na ang pinangakong walang hanggan? Alam ko kung gaano kasakit ang mawalan Alam ko kung paano mawasak ang mundo ng isang iniwan Pero alam mo ba kung ano yung pinakamasakit? Magkatabi tayo at magkadikit ang mga balikat Walang matitirang espasyo sa gitna dahil sa liit ng higaan Pero hindi ko maramdaman na nariyan ka Mali.. Alam kong andiyan ka pero alam ko rin na ang pagmamahal mo ay naglaho na Sabi nila masakit makita ang mahal **** may kasamang iba o hanggang kaibigan lang ang tingin niya o wala na siyang ibang nabanggit kundi ang isang taong ayaw sa kanya Putang ina Hindi nila alam na mas masakit ang nararamdaman ng isang tangang katulad ko Na pinipilit pinapaniwala ang sariling mahal mo pa ako Mas masakit yun Mahal hindi mo ba nakikita ang mga mapuputlang labi na minsan mo nang nahagkan? Hindi mo ba naririnig ang mga hikbi na pinipilit kong itago pero hinihila pa rin palabas ng pighati? Hindi mo ba nararamdaman kung gaano kita kamahal, kung gaano ako kahangal? Gusto ko lang naman pakinggan mo ako Gusto kong malaman mo na ayoko na Na kahit ayoko na ay ayoko pa Ayoko pang bumitaw Dahil natatakot akong maligaw Sa paniniwalang ang iyong palad ang gabay sa mundo kong minsan nang naging bughaw Ayoko pang mawalay sayo Ayoko pang ako’y iwan mo Tawagin mo na akong tanga, gaga, boba Pero Mahal kita Pero Ayoko na Ayoko na sana Sana pigilan mo ako sa pagtangka kong pagbitaw Pigilan mo sa pagsulat muli sa mga basang pahina dahil huli na to Halikan ang mga nakasaradong labi nang mapalitan ang mga mura ng mahal Mahal kita Oo na hanggang sa huli Kahit matagal nang sinasabi ng mga mata, labi at puso ko At nakasulat sa huling basang pahina na ito Na Ayoko pa, mahal ayoko na.
0
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
Huling Basang Pahina
Tahimik at tila nawalan na ng ganang huminga ang mundo Nakasarado ang mga labing to pero alam kong punong puno ng mga sigaw ng mga hagulgol ng mga mura na pinipilit na hindi makawala Dahil alam ko na kahit ang boses ay maubos hanggang sa tuluyan nang mapaos Hindi mo pa rin pakikinggan Dinadaan nalang ang mga sakit na naipon sa pagsulat sa basang pahinang pinipilit mang pagtagpiin ay tuluyan nang napupunit Gawa ng mga luhang kumakawala sa mga matang bulag Marahang pinapahid dahil sa namamagang pisngi Katulad ng pag-iibigan natin Sa pahinang ito Tuluyan nang nawasak at paunti unti nang naglalaho Nabura na ang tinta at naging malabo na ang mga salitang Mahal na mahal kita Ipipikit nalang ang mga mata para tumigil na Kasabay ang paghaplos sa nanlalamig na espasyo Sa bandang kaliwa ng ating kama Dito dating nakahimlay ang isang nilalang na nagbigay halaga sa kalawakan Ang nagparamdam ng tunay na kahulugan ng buhay at pagmamahal Pinapaniwalang ang pag-iibigan ay tunay at magtatagal Pero mahal Bakit ang mga halik ay napalitan ng mga mura Ang mga yakap ay napalitan ng mga sampal At ang mga matamis na ngiti ay napalitan na ng matalim na mata Nasaan na ang pinangakong walang hanggan? Alam ko kung gaano kasakit ang mawalan Alam ko kung paano mawasak ang mundo ng isang iniwan Pero alam mo ba kung ano yung pinakamasakit? Magkatabi tayo at magkadikit ang mga balikat Walang matitirang espasyo sa gitna dahil sa liit ng higaan Pero hindi ko maramdaman na nariyan ka Mali.. Alam kong andiyan ka pero alam ko rin na ang pagmamahal mo ay naglaho na Sabi nila masakit makita ang mahal **** may kasamang iba o hanggang kaibigan lang ang tingin niya o wala na siyang ibang nabanggit kundi ang isang taong ayaw sa kanya Putang ina Hindi nila alam na mas masakit ang nararamdaman ng isang tangang katulad ko Na pinipilit pinapaniwala ang sariling mahal mo pa ako Mas masakit yun Mahal hindi mo ba nakikita ang mga mapuputlang labi na minsan mo nang nahagkan? Hindi mo ba naririnig ang mga hikbi na pinipilit kong itago pero hinihila pa rin palabas ng pighati? Hindi mo ba nararamdaman kung gaano kita kamahal, kung gaano ako kahangal? Gusto ko lang naman pakinggan mo ako Gusto kong malaman mo na ayoko na Na kahit ayoko na ay ayoko pa Ayoko pang bumitaw Dahil natatakot akong maligaw Sa paniniwalang ang iyong palad ang gabay sa mundo kong minsan nang naging bughaw Ayoko pang mawalay sayo Ayoko pang ako’y iwan mo Tawagin mo na akong tanga, gaga, boba Pero Mahal kita Pero Ayoko na Ayoko na sana Sana pigilan mo ako sa pagtangka kong pagbitaw Pigilan mo sa pagsulat muli sa mga basang pahina dahil huli na to Halikan ang mga nakasaradong labi nang mapalitan ang mga mura ng mahal Mahal kita Oo na hanggang sa huli Kahit matagal nang sinasabi ng mga mata, labi at puso ko At nakasulat sa huling basang pahina na ito Na Ayoko pa, mahal ayoko na.
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68
Alam n'yo ang love, pag-ibig o ano bang tawag n'yo d'yan, kusang 'yang dumarating di nga lang nagsasabi kasi wala 'tong bibig (hayyy naku! naman oh!) Pero ano ba kasi ang true love? O baka kaya'y throw love na naman? (tawa muna bago maging seryoso ang usapan) Ito kasi yun, tama na sana! S'ya na sana! Eh shunga-shunga ka eh! Boy Gago! Lady Gaga! Pinakawalan mo pa. (kaya ayun! iyak iyak na naman ang drama) At napatanga sabay sabing "Sayang!" At wala ka ng magagawa upang maibalik pa ang naudlot na love story n'yo. (wag mo nang ipagkaila, tama ako noh?) Nakakasawa rin naman pakinggan ang mga hinaing n'yo! Wala kaming hearing aid, bespren n'yo lang kami! (ano ba, tama na kasi! kasalanan mo rin yan!) Puro pait at pighati na lamang ba? Kaya ang isa sa inyo naging PEANUT BITTER na! (nakakasawa talaga, talagang talagang talaga!) Kaya eto na nga'ng advice ko sa inyo... Sabi kasi nila... Ang love ay parang daw isang itlog... 'Pag hinigpitan mo ang hawak, mababasag... Pero 'pag maluwag naman, mahuhulog lang at mababasag din... kaya dapat tama lang... Yung alam n'yong akma lang sa eksena... Kaya eto ako ngayon, malungkot at nanggiginaw ang puso... (hahahaist...) Kaya bago matapos 'tong tula ko, magtatanong muna ako... Sino bang may gustong humawak ng itlog ko?
0
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 12:32 PM UTC
Itlog
While they noticed the stretch of kohl in her eyes, I could see a pacific of emotions trapped. While they admired her blushing cheeks, I could read the paleness she painted red. While they were going gaga over her smirk, I could fathom the depth of pain that debarred a hearty gale. While they were lured by the cascade of her hair when she unscrewed the bun, I could feel the onus of the tantrums she wanted to turf out. While they were hypnotized by her mesmeric curves, I was stunned by the withstanding efficacy of such a fragile body. While they adored her attire and scarves, I could trace the bruises she carried with poise. While they were hung up by the glory of her face, I could do no help but ride out at the scars she concealed with sprightliness which was the most beautiful thing my eyes could ever have a view of and it left me dazed... And my mouth wide opened. -Aparajita Tripathi
0
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
She was beautiful.
My heart pounds for your smile, Dogbreath I like you more than a ****** likes **** you may be family and I may call you bro but it’s not ****** when you’re a Juggalo. I’ll never forget the day that we met one kiss and I wanted to be your Juggalette my passion for you burns like a thousand suns it can’t be contained even if I were restrained by nuns. My desire for you isn’t even satirical if you think about it it’s kind of a miracle drawn together like magnets – how do they work? and the way you touch my **** drives me berserk. You wrangle records like a big money rustla I like Lady Gaga and ain’t much of a hustla I was born this way, but my heart can grow bigga if you’ll take my hand and say you’re my *****
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Apr 21, 2012
Apr 21, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
My Hatchet Is On Fire
daily provisioning wallet  watch  testicles  spectacles cash (single bills) cell phone bottle of water   hairbrush with vanity attached, personal technology baggie (earbuds, variety of charging cords etc.) loose change in order to fall from pockets & annoy yourself sunglasses (idiot! summers half over) and something else... pocket tissues! skin and bone, muscle, all flavors and multilayers, a language of music only you hear, the pumping station internal, the gaga motion product of the palette of body following souled emotions, the antacid pills after that burrito; and that strangely named thang called libido? your teeth  your smile, your shyest guile, to catch that lady’s hopefully.         reciprocated pearly whites delight, pen and pad to record being a sad and mad good lad, a Swiss Army knife if the tube or bus should (will) breakdown, your tiny little bottles of inspiration  perspiration and perspective, that you forgot to label the list to do and the list to add to the to do list and good heavens, a serious writing utensil to fool yourself when thinking serious thoughts like these the last but should be first, the house keys!! keys just an enabler to do it all again tomorrow   July 11, 2018  10:22pm
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Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 9:15 AM UTC
daily provisioning (a to do list)
We’re in a young-love recession. Gen Zers are slow to trust and averse to risk, we have, it seems, a particular social nervousness about interpersonal exchanges and the symbiosis of love. So we resort to situationships (undefined relationships), a stratagem for closeness, with zero commitment. You can flirt; you can kiss; you can dance. You can have a crush so big it blots out the stars You can have transformative romantic encounters you can care deeply and get hurt badly you can, in fact, be absolutely wrecked by love All without ever being in a relationship. Thank God we’re only young once. . . Songs for this: Die With A Smile by Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars Busy Woman by Sabrina Carpenter
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Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 9:55 PM UTC
recessions
How do I love thee?  In a way that's bad, by which I mean so bad it's almost good. I need you, and you know it drives me mad. I want you more than any other could. And we could write romances, you and me. I want to hear your Hitchcock movie schtick. I want your everything.  I hope it's free. I want you in my window, and you're sick. And yet you know my raving is a sign I'd rather we were paramours than friends. You're outlawed from the moment that you're mine Until the day our bad romancing ends; I'll love you in a leather-studded bra. Rah gaga gaga roma ooh la la.
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Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 3:02 AM UTC
If Lady Gaga wrote sonnets
Bedroom’s painted fisherman’s blue There’s a cut out of Hayden Panettiere naked in a pink bikini with a hula-hoop on the back of the door Copies of British Vogue desperately hidden underneath the bed accompanying an empty bottle of Glen’s Manchester United duvet cover and matching pillows to boot The bin’s filled with pre-packed home-made lunches from the last six months Wardrobes a collection of ill fitting blue jeans bought for me by grandmother and football jerseys for teams that I’ve never even heard of, yet let alone see play a single game Uniform ironed and sitting out ready for school on Monday at 8am sharp ***** clothes cover mostly all the floor smelling of Lynx’s finest even though there’s an empty laundry basket just waiting in the corner to be used Inside one of the woolen blazer’s (that is way too big for me) pockets a single unopened ****** and an AES 256-bit encrypted USB stick An old PlayStation 2, with a single controller; games including FIFA years through 2004 to now, Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell, and GTA. Blood red shoplifted lipstick that’s now melted hidden in the little secret compartment at the back, meant for network expansion. Artemis Fowl, Alex Rider, and Harry Potter all adorn the bookcase Physics, Maths, and IT textbooks remain firmly closed on the desk in addition to a smashed phone from me and Daddy’s last “physical altercation” Lady Gaga’s “I Like it Rough” is playing in the background on repeat…
0
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 2:43 PM UTC
~2009
Bedroom’s painted fisherman’s blue There’s a cut out of Hayden Panettiere naked in a pink bikini with a hula-hoop on the back of the door Copies of British Vogue desperately hidden underneath the bed accompanying an empty bottle of Glen’s Manchester United duvet cover and matching pillows to boot The bin’s filled with pre-packed home-made lunches from the last six months Wardrobes a collection of ill fitting blue jeans bought for me by grandmother and football jerseys for teams that I’ve never even heard of, yet let alone see play a single game Uniform ironed and sitting out ready for school on Monday at 8am sharp ***** clothes cover mostly all the floor smelling of Lynx’s finest even though there’s an empty laundry basket just waiting in the corner to be used Inside one of the woolen blazer’s (that is way too big for me) pockets a single unopened ****** and an AES 256-bit encrypted USB stick An old PlayStation 2, with a single controller; games including FIFA years through 2004 to now, Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell, and GTA. Blood red shoplifted lipstick that’s now melted hidden in the little secret compartment at the back, meant for network expansion. Artemis Fowl, Alex Rider, and Harry Potter all adorn the bookcase Physics, Maths, and IT textbooks remain firmly closed on the desk in addition to a smashed phone from me and Daddy’s last “physical altercation” Lady Gaga’s “I Like it Rough” is playing in the background on repeat…
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b'ęránko bà p'égbá nigbò, kiniun lolori wøn b'ęiyę p'øgøfa l'ødan așa l'øga gbogbo wøn b'øba p'ęgbęrun laiye, ønirisha ni baba wøn b'obinrin ti pøto laiye, iwø motunrayo ni mø yan layo ifę rę n'pa mi bi øti oyi ifę rę n'kømi o mu mi lotutu gbogbo ara mi ngbøn bi ęni w'ędo b'oba føwø rę kanmi , arami aya gaga ololufe mi apønbeepore o'nfa øfun ni kij'ęran pe lęnu, ohun mi k'in wa ę m'øya , irinajo niøję nișęju ișęju løkan mi fa si ę ololufęmi abęfę, ibadi aran awęlęwa ęwa rę tan bi mønamana otan kaari aiye, omu imøle wasayemi ofimi løkan bale, aiya mi o ja ęru o si bamimø ifę rę mumi rinri ajo ayø omumi de ebute idunnu ati alafia mowoke modupę løwø eledua to semilanu nigba ti mo șe awari ifę rę bi ewe ba pę Lara oșę, a ma d'øșę ekurø lala b'aku ęwa bi inu ba șè șì, aworan rę lowa ni bę. iwø ni monifę julø . mawo ariwo øja rara. mașe da awøn ęlętan løhun iru ifę wa yii lowu wøn ifę at'oke l'atørun wa.
0
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 5:42 PM UTC
ololufemi {my beloved }
The little Prince of Persia Who's purpose is to depurse ya, Dispersing suits, clock off time city worker, Mark your card, inertia. He's no mathematician or magician But give him a dynamoment to take you to the cleaners, cause this one's mean a! Hellbent on humiliation he'll reverend run you to the station. He's counting cards, counting on ya till your seeing stars, K.O, ringside seat whilst you get parred, po, poker face he'll drive you gaga! So Loay and behold he might not be honourable, but he's willing and able to bring the last supper to this table. He's not called Jack but he's a joker, in guise he tries to choke ya, draw the ace but it won't help ya, cause you're a disgraced King and you've just been usurped sir, by that little Prince of Persia.
0
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
P.O.P
don't know whats wrong with this world animals are better then people people are too busy to even help each other there's swag and yolo people want gaps between their legs the **** life is choosing people lady gaga is "fashion" acting like a stripper is called twirking twirking is called dancing not liking rap is sth to be ashamed of ******** is considered art literature is dead music is dead love is materialistic what is there to live for ?
0
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 6:37 AM UTC
dont know
and as being alone is not the same as lonliness...then perhaps "peacefulness" does not mean the silly liberal search for the end of hostilities and as being a lover does not mean having *** with someone but merely implies a true commitment to humanity....then of course all things are seen in natural harmony but then! what would lady gaga say! and as being a real soul does actually seem to necessitate the abandonment of cultural stupidity.......then perhaps our attempts to write down and express our feelings might possibly be the act of saving the world! but then! what would sarah palin say we really mean! --- come be free it is better that way i
0
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 10:04 AM UTC
freedom and responsibility
I open the blinds and see the world - in return, what does the world see? It sees me, and all my splendid, split personalities, living these amazing times, of amazing pleasures, in which we tweet tweets, and post posts re ego-trips and copyrighted links, videos and things; and, as stray dogs, we ramble randomly, and all the time,   living in our infinite worlds, of infinite lanes, till infinity; yet we suffer so much pain. Our Shih Tzus take us on extended walks, firmly leashed to our Koss plugs, as we drone cool tunes on multihued iPods, iPhones buzzing ringtones of tittering babies, stolid kings and hyperactive frogs, which would all make my eighty-six year old dad want to gag; we fly ultralight megaplanes at the sonic sound of speed, through virtual and real space, connecting dots at low- cost prices, while we belt-up, gear-up, gulp Gaga and gorge heat-inducted meals of deer, horse and over- promoted crap; and then, wow surprisingly, we are all so unsatisfied. We consciously all move-in together, and **** on end, like statistical sheep, pre-married, unloving, and broken up, and justify it all, to ourselves, with our fully stretched spandex morality, over low-carb brunches @Starbucks, two 14” screens of separation; we paint pornographic images of virgins, all called Mary, in the name of art, and, white-clad, **** babes and alter-boys, and penetrate each other, first with our fingers, deeply, then superficially, without even wondering, for a zeptosecond, why we can’t stand one another any longer. We crank-up dependencies, like high street mainliners, shamming and slaughtering for neurotoxic fixes of smileys and Crystal on billion-dollar Kogo yachts, while we all just pedal on, dispassionately, down and over interior canals, to the core of our hocked, abbrev lives, chronically connected and severely distracted, in aromatic polymer bubbles, heedlessly cruising through comic-strip farms of mock vegetables, surely to nowhere and towards no one; and quite frankly, the world laughs at all this, and sobs, and so do I.
0
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:08 PM UTC
Chronically connected and severely distracted
I open the blinds and see the world - in return, what does the world see? It sees me, and all my splendid, split personalities, living these amazing times, of amazing pleasures, in which we tweet tweets, and post posts re ego-trips and copyrighted links, videos and things; and, as stray dogs, we ramble randomly, and all the time,   living in our infinite worlds, of infinite lanes, till infinity; yet we suffer so much pain. Our Shih Tzus take us on extended walks, firmly leashed to our Koss plugs, as we drone cool tunes on multihued iPods, iPhones buzzing ringtones of tittering babies, stolid kings and hyperactive frogs, which would all make my eighty-six year old dad want to gag; we fly ultralight megaplanes at the sonic sound of speed, through virtual and real space, connecting dots at low- cost prices, while we belt-up, gear-up, gulp Gaga and gorge heat-inducted meals of deer, horse and over- promoted crap; and then, wow surprisingly, we are all so unsatisfied. We consciously all move-in together, and **** on end, like statistical sheep, pre-married, unloving, and broken up, and justify it all, to ourselves, with our fully stretched spandex morality, over low-carb brunches @Starbucks, two 14” screens of separation; we paint pornographic images of virgins, all called Mary, in the name of art, and, white-clad, **** babes and alter-boys, and penetrate each other, first with our fingers, deeply, then superficially, without even wondering, for a zeptosecond, why we can’t stand one another any longer. We crank-up dependencies, like high street mainliners, shamming and slaughtering for neurotoxic fixes of smileys and Crystal on billion-dollar Kogo yachts, while we all just pedal on, dispassionately, down and over interior canals, to the core of our hocked, abbrev lives, chronically connected and severely distracted, in aromatic polymer bubbles, heedlessly cruising through comic-strip farms of mock vegetables, surely to nowhere and towards no one; and quite frankly, the world laughs at all this, and sobs, and so do I.
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40
I am not the kind of boy who fits the mould of it's social stereotype: Does sport perving on girls has the tendency to treat girls like a piece of meat No, that isn't me. I never liked sport. I was a boy who didn't like to watch or play with Action man or Power Rangers, Instead I was the kind of boy who would tell his friends that he was going to football club, When in fact I was going to dance club. At school I studied dance. "What lesson do you have next, Lew?" "History" Dance. As the school year rolled on it was revealed, When I had to perform in front of the whole school, Nerves Butterflies Terror After that I rolled with the punches: Gay Queer ****** It angered me that because I didn't stick with the 'traditional' ideology of a boy I was an outcast, labelled with a stereotype that also didn't fit me. I like Lady Gaga In fact, I adore her. Because I support the LGBT community I am misunderstood as a person. To this day I struggle to overcome constant attack of prejudice and disrespect that people show me, I struggle to hold on to that last thread of self confidence. I don't dance any more. I am too scared to try it again I don't tell people that I listen to Gaga and Lana Del Rey. They'll laugh at me Whenever I say I like a girl people think it's a lie All of this because I am a different kind of boy.
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Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
A Different Kind of Boy
The room is bouncin Wall to wall base so fat you can walk on it BLIP BLEEEP :-). Chant and grind on syntho growl. Strobes hittin all the corners...locked on the groove bouncy move. Mechanical funk....Double dutchin. Hollan-daze orange crushin the room. Afro pulse Housin you down..Blip Bleep. Two hours straight epical trance.....Old disco gone techno high. Strobed out on that techno Applejack  meet Afrojack. New trance city. Luda an fitty Ear hustlin this one NuUrban stepchild drivin the beat...Blip Blip Bleeeep. Hop til ya drop ta Tiesto Super techno out your mind More bounce to the ounce. Got GaGa goin gaga Dont stop. Dont quit. Blip Bleep.
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May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC
Bleepy Dutch
Don't waste the pretty, my friend Life is for living Men are like trains.... Don't waste energy chasing after that one Another one is coming. A better one. With seats. Dance the nights away Not like no-one's watching. Dance like you deserve an audience. Tonight, Matthew, I am Gaga. Don't wish away your youth searching for stability, Mediocrity and banality are nothing to be yearned for. Don't stop moving. A rolling stone has moss in every corner of the world A friend on every continent And a dress in every colour Exploring the world is a means to exploring yourself So read more books, eat more ice cream and don't waste the pretty.
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Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 8:18 AM UTC
Don't Waste the Pretty
Naranasan mo ba ? Yung biglang may lalabas Pangalan mula sa nakalipas Nakakagulat diba Kasi ang alam mo tapos na Naka move on ka na eh pero heto nanaman ba ? Bumalik ka kasi Nilandi Nagsaya Nahulog ulit Ang saya diba Na alam mo sa sarili **** pampalipas ka lang Na diyan ka magaling ang maging past time Tinanong ko nga sarili ko? Sino ba talaga ko sayo? Oo heto tayo Naglalandian na parang tayo Pero ang pagkakaalam ko wala akong titulo sa salitang "Sayo lang ako" Sorry na Eto kasing gaga Naging loyal sa isa kahit wala na Wag ka magalala Darating yung panahon na Masaya na ko sa iba At kaya ko ng wala ka Yung mga araw na sasabihin ko "ang saya pala" makahanap ng iba siya na nagpapasaya kahit nasasaktan ka Siya na nagpapangiti ng mga panahong sawing sawi Bumangon ako Kasama siya na bumuo sa pagkatao ko Magiging masaya ako kahit wala ka dahil eto siya siya na akin talaga
0
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 7:39 AM UTC
Untitled
I painstakingly Edit my pictures Select my captions Carefully. Hashtag like there's no tomorrow, Because hey, How else can I get noticed? I check the number of likes And comments that I get By the minute Refreshing And refreshing Again. Follow those famous people In the hopes I'll Get followed back. Lady Gaga could not Have said it better. I live For the applause.
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Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
Applause
I am a gorilla, I am an ape. And I’m trying to escape This Golden Cage of youthful age, I grace myself with the withering ineptitude Of a penguin in commons. I have the ambition of a pumpkin at Halloween, That wants nothing more, than to be lit from the inside. But my fiery breath is nothing more than whiskey And cigarettes, A lose regret of swollen knuckles, Reminiscent of the iron age, I’m blowing off steam. But it’s only condensed water on the inside of these windows. Where the lights are off and there’s no one home. Steve left me on the edge of moon rock, A town that missed the stars of the night when they looked to sun, So I sit playing **** Puffed out like a swan but, I’m all neck. I wear a leek with pride and Yes, I am a dragon on match days, With claws and shrills, and right I’m sky high, Cutting through your fluffy clouds, soft and weak. Copper clad in pennyworth jeans I never chose. Flaws that will be the floor for me, Because in my town we never heard of stepladders, We reach for the sky by climbing hills on tip toes. Mountains we made with mole hills My mother wont let go. With **** so deep even spuds wont grow. Apologies like auburgines, may be good for you But I don’t like the taste. So I’ll continue to squash the marrow between my knuckles, But you can go gaga if you want to, Because, I was born this way. Great pun.
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 7:01 PM UTC
Exit Moon Rock
Lady Gaga's poker face is off, While I hear Dr.Frankenstein maniacal cough, Marlyn's eyes pacing and keeping with her anxieties, with Bob Dylan telling her about his newest sobrieties, Bunch a ******** cards says Loretta Lynn, I'm all in says he with the masochistic words written on his chin, Gaga throws her dark shades on her slave Popculture, he bows and tries to back out the door, When Elvis and Kerry Grant grab his collar, and tell him to earn his dollar. My hand is nothing but missed connections, and different lives I might have lived. I fold.
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Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 4:09 PM UTC
A typical poker night.
Music fills her soul as different melodies capture her moods who hasn't yearned for that country somebody did somebody wrong song or just feeling crazy or want to jazz it up with a little of the Latino explosion visiting Birdland when all else fails dancing the night away to Donna saving that last dance for someone special chilling to the smooth blues' riff as Michael Grimm crones how you don't know him every now and then when the mood is right moonlight sonata calls and romance and roses win the night who can resist when a gal's in the mood or sitting before a campfire signing of the harvest moon sometimes a body just feels lost looking for a way to get "closer to god and f#@*%ing like an animal to feel alive or banging it out to AC/DC beebooping to Madonna or Lady Gaga, or justifying that bad love trying to convince yourself that you like the way he lies maybe relaxing and using your imagination while you talk about stupid girls and all that garbage listening to the B52s and doing the rock lobster
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Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
Music Fills Her Soul
......so how's the LOVE THING Workin out for ya ? ...: Is FOLLOWING THE BOUNCING ***** Takin ya home? • If I said TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER would ya take me to BEYONCE? LADY GAGA? •• Jesus H geFukkin Christ ! What happened to ya? --- -///- --- Spit the **** out and brush your teeth! Be angry enough to become real It's a stupid movie ya think you're in! •• Every same person is sayin it to ya! •• You are so un-here It's not fiunny anymore Your ugly dyin Ugly dyin ---•--- Love? You say LOVE? --- screetching forth your Possessive power spells Seeking sado-masochostic ********** -- // -- Yeah You cool! --- The money's all stolen! Ya wanna be slaves? Well You are! •• I REALLY LOVE YOU who the **** cares I hear you say
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Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
Hey boys and girls.....
Let me tell you a bit about me A bit that I haven’t told anyone Here goes nothing… I listen to Lady Gaga A lot The smell of whiskey doesn’t burn my nose Rather it smells familiar, similar to maple syrup I love to dance a lot when no one is looking And really provocatively I doubt my ability Yet fear my potential I kissed a boy in first grade But don’t know why I have literally hid this all my life The book “Charley and the Chocolate Factory” changed me And I never like chocolate until this year I am afraid of dogs I grew up with dogs all of my life I really dislike my arms from the elbow up But play off my flannel shirts and hoodies as a fashion statement I bite my nails but not nervously Rather because nail clippers make my nails feel weird I watch **** No one really admits that one but most of us do I love not washing my hair But I hate going out in public that way I love most people but pretend I don’t It’s easier that way I love the feeling of crumbling sheet rock Especially if it is wet I have cussed since I was probably 7… I think I cuss less now than I did in fifth grade I generally admire those farthest from me They are what I’ll never be I could see myself as president But just as easily a stripper I have to try really hard not to cry when I think of my childhood Especially young memories I have tweezed my eye brows And my toes I have worn makeup while no one was home Mainly just to try it I love eating raw sugar Especially chewing it I am pretty sure I was delusional as a child But sometimes I feel like either I wasn’t or I still am I don’t feel like people ever really know me Especially my family There is a chunk of me Please don’t waste it
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Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Chunk of Me
Let me tell you a bit about me A bit that I haven’t told anyone Here goes nothing… I listen to Lady Gaga A lot The smell of whiskey doesn’t burn my nose Rather it smells familiar, similar to maple syrup I love to dance a lot when no one is looking And really provocatively I doubt my ability Yet fear my potential I kissed a boy in first grade But don’t know why I have literally hid this all my life The book “Charley and the Chocolate Factory” changed me And I never like chocolate until this year I am afraid of dogs I grew up with dogs all of my life I really dislike my arms from the elbow up But play off my flannel shirts and hoodies as a fashion statement I bite my nails but not nervously Rather because nail clippers make my nails feel weird I watch **** No one really admits that one but most of us do I love not washing my hair But I hate going out in public that way I love most people but pretend I don’t It’s easier that way I love the feeling of crumbling sheet rock Especially if it is wet I have cussed since I was probably 7… I think I cuss less now than I did in fifth grade I generally admire those farthest from me They are what I’ll never be I could see myself as president But just as easily a stripper I have to try really hard not to cry when I think of my childhood Especially young memories I have tweezed my eye brows And my toes I have worn makeup while no one was home Mainly just to try it I love eating raw sugar Especially chewing it I am pretty sure I was delusional as a child But sometimes I feel like either I wasn’t or I still am I don’t feel like people ever really know me Especially my family There is a chunk of me Please don’t waste it
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I will kiss new days with the same wonder I always have I'll just be doing it before I brush my teeth There is no one left to impress with minty fresh breath Sometimes when I forget hand lotion I run my fingers through blades of grass I rube the dew into my pores Long blades of grass smell better than short blades of grass That's why I never like mowing the lawn when I was little When a baby cries an angel gets their wings When little kids laugh our cat runs and hides When I blow bubbles little kids laugh My cat is very good at hiding My mom thinks I listen to my headphones too loud I think if I blow my ear drums listening to rock music Then I'll never have to hear anyone say good bye again That doesn't sound bad at all I will stare in the mirror with the same discomfort as always Only this time it will be after my shower I still have someone out there to impress with my unassuming good looks I don't always get dressed But when I do I prefer to wear clothes I don't always wear clothes But when I do I prefer clean clothes My iron broke It takes a village to raise a child It takes a city to raise a Gaga It takes time to heal It takes a clock to see that time It takes a man to build a clock Therefore it takes a village to tell the time I wash my sheets every time I cry I am very sad about you leaving But I'm out of Tide And I can't afford another bottle I'll cry on pay day It's just not in my budget to cry today
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Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 3:51 AM UTC
The Day After I Saw You Again
some listen to pop and like lady gaga some listen to rap and like tupac abut me, i'm different i listen to what is considered, "emo music," or "goth music," so what does it matter, if i listen to black veil brides, or even of mice and men music is music, and that music saved my life
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Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC
my music