"gagarin" poems - Hello Poetry

so here we Are: Arnold......Shortman, Shorty......Meeks, Mr......Meeseeks, Ezekiel......Whitmore. Morphine,,,,,,Morpheus, Neo......Geo, OG......Sour, Sour......Diesel. DeeDee's......Brother, Cousin......Vinny, Vinny's......Lover, Brothers......Grimm. Grim......adVentures, Billy......Madison, Hansel,,,,,,Gretel, Chelsea......Grin. Grimace,,,,,,Misery, Mister......eBonic, Bonny,,,,,,Clyde, Kyle,,,,,,Kenny. Kenny......Powers, Powder Puff Girls, "Girls Girls Girls", Girls Gone Wild. Wilee......Coyote, Coyote......Ugly, Ugly......Betty, Betty......Crocker. Doctor......Parnassus, Doctor......Krieger, Doctor......Horrible, Doctor......Evil. Evil......Knievel, Felix......the Cat, Captain Jack Sparrow: "Captain......my Captain". Tinman,,,,,,Scarecrow, "Rowrow Rowyer Boat", Bo......Burnham, Earnest,,,,,,Vern. Verdict,,,,,,Votive, deVotion,,,,,,Vengeance, aVenging......Evey, V,,,,,,Vendetta. Denace......the Menace, Crystal......Globes, Snow,,,,,,Aesthetics: Skeletal......Shedding. Head,,,,,,Tail, Sally,,,,,,Jack, Jack......Rabbits, Magic......Hatters. Shattered......Glass, Glasgow......Smile, Guile,,,,,,Vega, Akuma,,,,,,Ryu. You,,,,,,Me, Beneath......the Bleacher: Jeepers,,,,,,Creepers, Reapers......of Seeds. Seeds......of Chucky, Chuckie......Finster, Principal......Muriel, Yuri......Gagarin. © Copyrighted Jesse James Adams

0

Sep 3, 2014

Sep 3, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC

robert-pulsen

Heroes

so here we Are: Arnold......Shortman, Shorty......Meeks, Mr......Meeseeks, Ezekiel......Whitmore. Morphine,,,,,,Morpheus, Neo......Geo, OG......Sour, Sour......Diesel. DeeDee's......Brother, Cousin......Vinny, Vinny's......Lover, Brothers......Grimm. Grim......adVentures, Billy......Madison, Hansel,,,,,,Gretel, Chelsea......Grin. Grimace,,,,,,Misery, Mister......eBonic, Bonny,,,,,,Clyde, Kyle,,,,,,Kenny. Kenny......Powers, Powder Puff Girls, "Girls Girls Girls", Girls Gone Wild. Wilee......Coyote, Coyote......Ugly, Ugly......Betty, Betty......Crocker. Doctor......Parnassus, Doctor......Krieger, Doctor......Horrible, Doctor......Evil. Evil......Knievel, Felix......the Cat, Captain Jack Sparrow: "Captain......my Captain". Tinman,,,,,,Scarecrow, "Rowrow Rowyer Boat", Bo......Burnham, Earnest,,,,,,Vern. Verdict,,,,,,Votive, deVotion,,,,,,Vengeance, aVenging......Evey, V,,,,,,Vendetta. Denace......the Menace, Crystal......Globes, Snow,,,,,,Aesthetics: Skeletal......Shedding. Head,,,,,,Tail, Sally,,,,,,Jack, Jack......Rabbits, Magic......Hatters. Shattered......Glass, Glasgow......Smile, Guile,,,,,,Vega, Akuma,,,,,,Ryu. You,,,,,,Me, Beneath......the Bleacher: Jeepers,,,,,,Creepers, Reapers......of Seeds. Seeds......of Chucky, Chuckie......Finster, Principal......Muriel, Yuri......Gagarin. © Copyrighted Jesse James Adams

67

I conquered vast pieces of land. I ruled green patches and sand. I am Akbar, I am Aurangzeb, I am Alexander, I am emperor, I am man. I discovered places which were unseen and unknown, sometimes with my friends and sometimes alone, I am da Gama, I am Polo, I am columbus, I am explorer, I am man. I constructed beautiful mosques and castles, see this Taj, as if it was built by Angels. I am Ustad Ahmed, I am Master james, I am Sinan, I am architect, I am man. I take rational approach to solve life's mystery, through biology, physics and chemistry. I am Jabir, I am Newton, I am Einstein, I am scientist, I am man. I have turned upside down many nations, my thoughts and writings can inspire generations. I am Marx, I am plato, I am socrates, I am philosopher, I am man. I crossed boundaries of earth to reach space, Even on moon you can find my trace. I am Aldrin, I am Gagarin, I am Armstrong, I am astronaut, I am man. I shape words like a sculptor with delicate touch, my few words can convey so much. I am Iqbal, I am Kabir, I am Wordsworth, I am poet I am man. I Stayed for nine months in her womb, her love and kindness made a man in me to bloom, She is sister, she is wife, she is mother, she is woman, Yes, I am man because of a woman.

0

Nov 12, 2014

Nov 12, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC

mdasadullah

I AM MAN

I conquered vast pieces of land. I ruled green patches and sand. I am Akbar, I am Aurangzeb, I am Alexander, I am emperor, I am man. I discovered places which were unseen and unknown, sometimes with my friends and sometimes alone, I am da Gama, I am Polo, I am columbus, I am explorer, I am man. I constructed beautiful mosques and castles, see this Taj, as if it was built by Angels. I am Ustad Ahmed, I am Master james, I am Sinan, I am architect, I am man. I take rational approach to solve life's mystery, through biology, physics and chemistry. I am Jabir, I am Newton, I am Einstein, I am scientist, I am man. I have turned upside down many nations, my thoughts and writings can inspire generations. I am Marx, I am plato, I am socrates, I am philosopher, I am man. I crossed boundaries of earth to reach space, Even on moon you can find my trace. I am Aldrin, I am Gagarin, I am Armstrong, I am astronaut, I am man. I shape words like a sculptor with delicate touch, my few words can convey so much. I am Iqbal, I am Kabir, I am Wordsworth, I am poet I am man. I Stayed for nine months in her womb, her love and kindness made a man in me to bloom, She is sister, she is wife, she is mother, she is woman, Yes, I am man because of a woman.

32

I dreamed of Yuri Gagarin straddling an atomic bomb, I dreamed of grace and annihilation weightless and atmospheric I dreamed of gravity as the tyranny of man I dreamed of a view of this world from the sun, ashes in a cosmic crematorium I dreamed of ice and fire, winter and war I dreamed of mutually assured destruction, eyes watching the sky I dreamed of watching from on high, all glory hallelujah and twinkling giants I dreamed of falling back down, arms spread in unbreakable faith I dreamed of Yuri Gagarin, alone among the stars, saint of that great abyss, smiling as he met God, and asking him in a calm and reassuring tone, where he's been all this time

0

Dec 19, 2016

Dec 19, 2016 at 3:35 AM UTC

tyler-king

Yuri Gagarin

I dreamed of Yuri Gagarin straddling an atomic bomb, I dreamed of grace and annihilation weightless and atmospheric I dreamed of gravity as the tyranny of man I dreamed of a view of this world from the sun, ashes in a cosmic crematorium I dreamed of ice and fire, winter and war I dreamed of mutually assured destruction, eyes watching the sky I dreamed of watching from on high, all glory hallelujah and twinkling giants I dreamed of falling back down, arms spread in unbreakable faith I dreamed of Yuri Gagarin, alone among the stars, saint of that great abyss, smiling as he met God, and asking him in a calm and reassuring tone, where he's been all this time

9

my polyangular spring, please don't breathe while sleeping, lay down so that the sweet cotton milky way would be along thy shoulders, you're gagarin all alone by himself. do you remember glaring lights of august? i must be lost somewhere there and secretly nobody knows how to find me i'm all curled up, blurry and you're my slow motion dancing wild in the spectrum of life. every time you loose light i wish to be a sound of breaking ice in the lena river, thus myriad light years would seem to be nothing for a northern snowfall. you grew up like a flower, sleep pattern on my face.

0

Apr 30, 2012

Apr 30, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC

juliana-hiccup

big feelings

my polyangular spring, please don't breathe while sleeping, lay down so that the sweet cotton milky way would be along thy shoulders, you're gagarin all alone by himself. do you remember glaring lights of august? i must be lost somewhere there and secretly nobody knows how to find me i'm all curled up, blurry and you're my slow motion dancing wild in the spectrum of life. every time you loose light i wish to be a sound of breaking ice in the lena river, thus myriad light years would seem to be nothing for a northern snowfall. you grew up like a flower, sleep pattern on my face.

25

you would never say about a Kandinsky: where's the Mondrian? luckily we have enough information about Goldberg's sardines, without asking another poet (other than O'Hara) to sniff out Billingsgate - and so too: if Burroughs said: all writing limps behind painting by 50 years - enough said, hence came speedy Gonzales with his shotgun and his canned paint... and i know just as much as sardines in see-through tins - well: it was worth a joke, someone was bound to **** into a champagne bottle at some point, and celebrate: in abstract - or to the point: in concreto - ecce artifex! at least enough humility would be worth the same dosage - specialisations are such: demanding concepts as aboriginal in anthropology - likewise anthropological: schizophrenics in urbanity - after all... a concrete jungle - like any half-wit and butt-naked in the Amazon... applause for comrade Gagarin and Laika - and if Darwin wrote in cyrilica - then it too would have been Mohawk and Brain - salutations and applause - and if ever in doubt: call it versailles - to denote all forms of luxury - i know: versailles better hides luxury than the hermitage - or as King Duck could say being a burden on the Vavel Mount - even the Vavellian dragon died from laughter, even though he was given a sheep stuffed with sulphur - and drank the Vistulla dry... but only when King Quack was laid to rest: and the volk - the naród said: Katyń 1 - Smoleńsk 3... and there was even a composition by wojciech kilar. so then... 50 years lagging? disorientating? muddled, spaghetti loops? well, as the introduction already mentions, painters can't write - suddenly everything has to have geometry! any geometrical instrument in an art's class is seen like a Sunni in Iran - or a Buddhist, at a Bar Mitzvah: boom-town slap-head - choppy waters, brightly illuminated by the polished cranium sheen. so why except a Mondrain from a Kandinsky ?! what a brain-drain!

0

Jan 7, 2017

Jan 7, 2017 at 3:18 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

conception: Billingsgate

you would never say about a Kandinsky: where's the Mondrian? luckily we have enough information about Goldberg's sardines, without asking another poet (other than O'Hara) to sniff out Billingsgate - and so too: if Burroughs said: all writing limps behind painting by 50 years - enough said, hence came speedy Gonzales with his shotgun and his canned paint... and i know just as much as sardines in see-through tins - well: it was worth a joke, someone was bound to **** into a champagne bottle at some point, and celebrate: in abstract - or to the point: in concreto - ecce artifex! at least enough humility would be worth the same dosage - specialisations are such: demanding concepts as aboriginal in anthropology - likewise anthropological: schizophrenics in urbanity - after all... a concrete jungle - like any half-wit and butt-naked in the Amazon... applause for comrade Gagarin and Laika - and if Darwin wrote in cyrilica - then it too would have been Mohawk and Brain - salutations and applause - and if ever in doubt: call it versailles - to denote all forms of luxury - i know: versailles better hides luxury than the hermitage - or as King Duck could say being a burden on the Vavel Mount - even the Vavellian dragon died from laughter, even though he was given a sheep stuffed with sulphur - and drank the Vistulla dry... but only when King Quack was laid to rest: and the volk - the naród said: Katyń 1 - Smoleńsk 3... and there was even a composition by wojciech kilar. so then... 50 years lagging? disorientating? muddled, spaghetti loops? well, as the introduction already mentions, painters can't write - suddenly everything has to have geometry! any geometrical instrument in an art's class is seen like a Sunni in Iran - or a Buddhist, at a Bar Mitzvah: boom-town slap-head - choppy waters, brightly illuminated by the polished cranium sheen. so why except a Mondrain from a Kandinsky ?! what a brain-drain!

62

I'm folding origami birds from old envelopes with stamps from the US as if hoping they'll fly back there & greet my friend & blowing bubbles in my tea Yesterday I heard Yuri Gagarin's voice for the first time & thought it strange that such a simple sounding man should've been allowed into Space rather than picking a Poet who could've made more of it than him the last three letters I sent to my friend didn't get there so I don't trust the Post anymore & rely on e-mails & phone sometimes we don't write or speak for months or even a year & then when we get back in touch it's just like hearing from Space

0

Jul 30, 2015

Jul 30, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC

dreams-of-sepia

Origami

I'm folding origami birds from old envelopes with stamps from the US as if hoping they'll fly back there & greet my friend & blowing bubbles in my tea Yesterday I heard Yuri Gagarin's voice for the first time & thought it strange that such a simple sounding man should've been allowed into Space rather than picking a Poet who could've made more of it than him the last three letters I sent to my friend didn't get there so I don't trust the Post anymore & rely on e-mails & phone sometimes we don't write or speak for months or even a year & then when we get back in touch it's just like hearing from Space

28

When I was young I saw Gagarin Waving through a moonbeam That same year A single electron Went from my finger To the doorknob. She was a radical. In those days I was convinced that the Cocoon was a casket Would bury it whole When it came back empty You thought it went to heaven. We built homes For the salamander Picked them from the mud Moved them into plastic boxes And swore to never let it Live in such poor conditions. How could they live like that. When I was young My eyes saw so much love It spread in every direction. We called it the love canal, Because it was so toxic. Sometimes if you would listen You could hear the trees Whispering wisdom to the pine cones Singing lullaby’s about fireside farmers. We would hide them from the spiders because we hadn't yet learned How to commit ****** I used to think That the raindrops were lonely Because they were always Holding themselves in. You'd collect them in a glass jar Thin enough for their worries To creep up the sides, And convinced me that they had Found someone to talk to. Our hands were stained with blackberries Tasted sweet like the honeysuckles On the other side of the thorn bushes Where you found the fattest bumble bee And told me that honey came from its throw up. I still eat honey. In the winter We built a snowman. Named him jolly old saint **** And I sat inside until All he left me was coal. At the north pole There were three elves Who in the summer Built sandcastles In their dreams But over Christmas They made salamander Soup kitchens. In a cornfield I found myself. Three skipping stones I kept them in my pocket Until it reached the shoreline. They're still drowning. Here's to the kids who Never got to go Trick or Treating, But were **** good At being someone else. You and I, We did our math in pen. We never made the Same mistake twice. We didn't smudge, We smeared. And there was never Any doubt That you and I, Were here.

0

Apr 8, 2015

Apr 8, 2015 at 3:40 AM UTC

AFKforLoL

Skipping Stones

When I was young I saw Gagarin Waving through a moonbeam That same year A single electron Went from my finger To the doorknob. She was a radical. In those days I was convinced that the Cocoon was a casket Would bury it whole When it came back empty You thought it went to heaven. We built homes For the salamander Picked them from the mud Moved them into plastic boxes And swore to never let it Live in such poor conditions. How could they live like that. When I was young My eyes saw so much love It spread in every direction. We called it the love canal, Because it was so toxic. Sometimes if you would listen You could hear the trees Whispering wisdom to the pine cones Singing lullaby’s about fireside farmers. We would hide them from the spiders because we hadn't yet learned How to commit ****** I used to think That the raindrops were lonely Because they were always Holding themselves in. You'd collect them in a glass jar Thin enough for their worries To creep up the sides, And convinced me that they had Found someone to talk to. Our hands were stained with blackberries Tasted sweet like the honeysuckles On the other side of the thorn bushes Where you found the fattest bumble bee And told me that honey came from its throw up. I still eat honey. In the winter We built a snowman. Named him jolly old saint **** And I sat inside until All he left me was coal. At the north pole There were three elves Who in the summer Built sandcastles In their dreams But over Christmas They made salamander Soup kitchens. In a cornfield I found myself. Three skipping stones I kept them in my pocket Until it reached the shoreline. They're still drowning. Here's to the kids who Never got to go Trick or Treating, But were **** good At being someone else. You and I, We did our math in pen. We never made the Same mistake twice. We didn't smudge, We smeared. And there was never Any doubt That you and I, Were here.

83

Portal To Infinity for Yuri Gargarin respectfully by Jude Kyrie *The explosion erupted like an inferno below him. Not a naturally religious man he prayed to his maker. Then the rush as he lifted off from the sweet earth At the edge of the atmosphere an invisible barrier Eons old untouched by mankind but not this day. As he moved into orbit he saw the wonder of Mother Earth below. The first words uttered by our species in the vacuum of space "I see Earth! It is so beautiful!" He witnessed the Earth for a single orbit Over Africa the ground control shut of his engines And he re-entered the earth’s atmosphere With no power to slow down the craft. He ejected above earth and parachuted to fame As The first man in space the pioneer of space travel When the American astronauts landed on the moon In July 1969 the crew left a commemorative medal bearing his name Warmth of mutual occupation and respect melted the ice of the cold war From Russia came this special man Thank you Yuri Gagarin* Author Notes On 27 March 1968, while on a routine training flight from Chkalovsky Air Base, he and flight instructor Vladimir Seryogin died in a MiG-15UTI crash near the town of Kirzhach. The bodies of Gagarin and Seryogin were cremated and the ashes were buried in the walls of the Kremlin on Red Square. Gagarin was survived by his wife Valentina, and daughters Elena and Galina. Elena Gagarina, Yuri's elder daughter, is an art historian who has worked as a director-general of the Moscow Kremlin Museums since 2001.[25] His younger daughter, Galina, is department chair at Plekhanov Russian Economic University in Moscow

0

Feb 4, 2016

Feb 4, 2016 at 11:00 AM UTC

jude-kyrie

April 12 1961. The day man left the earth

Portal To Infinity for Yuri Gargarin respectfully by Jude Kyrie *The explosion erupted like an inferno below him. Not a naturally religious man he prayed to his maker. Then the rush as he lifted off from the sweet earth At the edge of the atmosphere an invisible barrier Eons old untouched by mankind but not this day. As he moved into orbit he saw the wonder of Mother Earth below. The first words uttered by our species in the vacuum of space "I see Earth! It is so beautiful!" He witnessed the Earth for a single orbit Over Africa the ground control shut of his engines And he re-entered the earth’s atmosphere With no power to slow down the craft. He ejected above earth and parachuted to fame As The first man in space the pioneer of space travel When the American astronauts landed on the moon In July 1969 the crew left a commemorative medal bearing his name Warmth of mutual occupation and respect melted the ice of the cold war From Russia came this special man Thank you Yuri Gagarin* Author Notes On 27 March 1968, while on a routine training flight from Chkalovsky Air Base, he and flight instructor Vladimir Seryogin died in a MiG-15UTI crash near the town of Kirzhach. The bodies of Gagarin and Seryogin were cremated and the ashes were buried in the walls of the Kremlin on Red Square. Gagarin was survived by his wife Valentina, and daughters Elena and Galina. Elena Gagarina, Yuri's elder daughter, is an art historian who has worked as a director-general of the Moscow Kremlin Museums since 2001.[25] His younger daughter, Galina, is department chair at Plekhanov Russian Economic University in Moscow

29

jak sie nie ma co sie lubi, to sie lubi, co sie ma / if you don't have what you'd like, you like, what you have. my maternal uncle (brother of my grandmother) used to collect beer bottles... now i wish i didn't start to collect cigarette packets... i know, pretty much as "nerdy" as collecting postage stamps (you should see my grandfather's collection... pretty impressive... i think he owns a yuri gagarin special edition) - anyway... it came as a shock when i was buying tobacco at the supermarket once upon a time (2 months ago) - the packaging, the packaging! it's so ugly! you sure i'm in a supermarket and not in a russian gulag? marmite lungs, coughing blood, black and white all over areas, all over... they really know how to put people out their jobs when trying to redesign packaging, don't they? luckily though... luckily! i'm in possession of the last of the last... an empty packet of benson & hedges (gold)... that's a keeper... i'm not giving this one up... i'll use whenever i have ten remaining in that ugly packaging, and take it into town, and turn into a peacock... look'e 'ere... see, original packaging, dating from the year 2016... but like with anything you drink... esp. the whiskeys... it's nice to read an anecdote printed on the bottle... the benson & hedges packet? nothing like it is now... in the old days you know: (a) sourced from premium golden virginia tobaccos (b) consistently rich & smooth taste (c) as approved by *apache chief naked-butt-pointing-at-the-moon* & his distant half-cousin the *sioux chief hairdressing-wind*; but there's also (d) the british american tobacco group and there's also and address so you can send them fan mail (e) old bond street, london. smoking used to be fun, well, it still is... if you managed to keep one of these of packets of cigarettes... now i wish i still had a packet of yella' camels... or the red marlboros, oh well.

0

Jul 13, 2017

Jul 13, 2017 at 7:32 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

sioux hairdressers (scalping)

jak sie nie ma co sie lubi, to sie lubi, co sie ma / if you don't have what you'd like, you like, what you have. my maternal uncle (brother of my grandmother) used to collect beer bottles... now i wish i didn't start to collect cigarette packets... i know, pretty much as "nerdy" as collecting postage stamps (you should see my grandfather's collection... pretty impressive... i think he owns a yuri gagarin special edition) - anyway... it came as a shock when i was buying tobacco at the supermarket once upon a time (2 months ago) - the packaging, the packaging! it's so ugly! you sure i'm in a supermarket and not in a russian gulag? marmite lungs, coughing blood, black and white all over areas, all over... they really know how to put people out their jobs when trying to redesign packaging, don't they? luckily though... luckily! i'm in possession of the last of the last... an empty packet of benson & hedges (gold)... that's a keeper... i'm not giving this one up... i'll use whenever i have ten remaining in that ugly packaging, and take it into town, and turn into a peacock... look'e 'ere... see, original packaging, dating from the year 2016... but like with anything you drink... esp. the whiskeys... it's nice to read an anecdote printed on the bottle... the benson & hedges packet? nothing like it is now... in the old days you know: (a) sourced from premium golden virginia tobaccos (b) consistently rich & smooth taste (c) as approved by *apache chief naked-butt-pointing-at-the-moon* & his distant half-cousin the *sioux chief hairdressing-wind*; but there's also (d) the british american tobacco group and there's also and address so you can send them fan mail (e) old bond street, london. smoking used to be fun, well, it still is... if you managed to keep one of these of packets of cigarettes... now i wish i still had a packet of yella' camels... or the red marlboros, oh well.

78

when Margot met Circe: bah bah black sheep, St. Bartholomew's chicken **** for the puff of leg-room... duffos... 1996 made so much sense; hence the days before teen-mom m.t.v., hence the days before teen-mom m.t.v., is that revising the opposite of the caveman within journalists who'd have no imagination to carve out a hammer? but who still celebrate that origination of all future history? there's never too little history to revive, there's only too much of the wrong history to bookmark, and subsequently revive... whatever happened to culture of things seen on t.v. when marijuana was illegal? ted the magic talking bear? or is that ted'x talks? they legalised that **** because because there were apparent geniuses in s low mo t'yo née - or: scooby dooby do... where are you... magic monkey juice... let's make america nostalgic ultra! as the german poets and philosophers tried to revive classical greek and came back with a ******** clock for what really did become good luck... because they made marijuana legal for non-high purposes as in extracting something akin to Great Ormond kids ingesting the green morphine monster... but where's the fun in that when it's all legal and couch-potato bound and never daring for the jazz communes and spontaneously propped poetics? but i also grew up with *Wilk i Zając - Odcinek 13 - Olimpiada 1980 w Moskwie* / wolf & rabbit, episode 13, olympics 1980 in Moscow... very ******* sputnik in terms of tunes comrade Gagarin... i once knew the meaning of the word: harasho... i think it means: i understand. я ci pokarzała! (i will show you!) nu pagarzni! (no you won't!) o' Ronald re re re, ***** i wielki flop!

0

Nov 20, 2016

Nov 20, 2016 at 9:29 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

St. Cornholio Massacre of 1996

when Margot met Circe: bah bah black sheep, St. Bartholomew's chicken **** for the puff of leg-room... duffos... 1996 made so much sense; hence the days before teen-mom m.t.v., hence the days before teen-mom m.t.v., is that revising the opposite of the caveman within journalists who'd have no imagination to carve out a hammer? but who still celebrate that origination of all future history? there's never too little history to revive, there's only too much of the wrong history to bookmark, and subsequently revive... whatever happened to culture of things seen on t.v. when marijuana was illegal? ted the magic talking bear? or is that ted'x talks? they legalised that **** because because there were apparent geniuses in s low mo t'yo née - or: scooby dooby do... where are you... magic monkey juice... let's make america nostalgic ultra! as the german poets and philosophers tried to revive classical greek and came back with a ******** clock for what really did become good luck... because they made marijuana legal for non-high purposes as in extracting something akin to Great Ormond kids ingesting the green morphine monster... but where's the fun in that when it's all legal and couch-potato bound and never daring for the jazz communes and spontaneously propped poetics? but i also grew up with *Wilk i Zając - Odcinek 13 - Olimpiada 1980 w Moskwie* / wolf & rabbit, episode 13, olympics 1980 in Moscow... very ******* sputnik in terms of tunes comrade Gagarin... i once knew the meaning of the word: harasho... i think it means: i understand. я ci pokarzała! (i will show you!) nu pagarzni! (no you won't!) o' Ronald re re re, ***** i wielki flop!

50

palyak... gwoopi: palyak... pierdu wart piotr, lieb pavel! palyak: gwoopi palyak! czekoor! czaj! jemu zwe, cykor! zwe! gagarin! zwe! kitaj! kitajec! pan szamb! ruszkin puszkin! zwajce pijajce! szto?! szu szu szarania! moskiw! bamboula: bratek bambo! ukrajnin: bohun! sto stokortek nad grobem: KACAP! ка'тсап! HORONWIEG zgranego młota i kilofa! oj barket: ty raz jeszcze będziesz żegnać glebę: jak chleb! gryź ty: tą garść piachu, na twój ząb jak modlitwe na swój zór! i mów mi: słotka, miękka bółeczka! kajzerka! niby: wilhelm kaiserschuh tap tap... tippentanzen... mów mi że to tak! jak zawsze: warta propaganda.

0

Sep 4, 2017

Sep 4, 2017 at 9:40 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

kazakh'ah mord: ка'тсап! / kaiserschuh tippentanzen

palyak... gwoopi: palyak... pierdu wart piotr, lieb pavel! palyak: gwoopi palyak! czekoor! czaj! jemu zwe, cykor! zwe! gagarin! zwe! kitaj! kitajec! pan szamb! ruszkin puszkin! zwajce pijajce! szto?! szu szu szarania! moskiw! bamboula: bratek bambo! ukrajnin: bohun! sto stokortek nad grobem: KACAP! ка'тсап! HORONWIEG zgranego młota i kilofa! oj barket: ty raz jeszcze będziesz żegnać glebę: jak chleb! gryź ty: tą garść piachu, na twój ząb jak modlitwe na swój zór! i mów mi: słotka, miękka bółeczka! kajzerka! niby: wilhelm kaiserschuh tap tap... tippentanzen... mów mi że to tak! jak zawsze: warta propaganda.

53