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"gangnam" poems
K-popper Psy Buzzing like a pesky fly To out do his "Gangnam Style" hit But you can't polish cat **** *Clerihew A Clerihew is a comic verse consisting of two couplets and a specific rhyming scheme, aabb invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956) at the age of 16. The poem is about/deals with a person/character within the first rhyme. In most cases, the first line names a person, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with the name of the person.*
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Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
a Clerihew
Gangnam pool Salon Systems 010-3923-7007 ◈◈◈1 subsystem ◈◈◈ (bukchangdong expression system) Total 1 hours 10 minutes in the dazzling music Battle (early, late), so enter twice Room sokeseoneun Group hug, and he can touch etc. Hot and soft feel hot to the touch. Jeonhaeohneun body ^^ Gangnam sarongs at a time in the pool with a drink excitement ~ ◈◈◈2 subsystem ◈◈◈ (geukgang lover mode @) Jilpeon the furnace for 1 hour 10 minutes Part 1 The inconvenience syeotjiman slightly south are you? Putt regret that much short of a definite home run finished in Part 2 Noldeon lady in the room and go hand in hand up the field unforgettable beats the best Enjoy ^^ Part Time Lover service total 50 minutes without wanting Gangnam pool sarongs best service!
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Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 7:42 AM UTC
Seoul Gangnam pool Salon 01039237007
Marry me a sugar daddy It about stability and a sense of security And ways of staying happy and not about the money I need my life to shine bright like diamond It might be critical, it might be political All that matters, is where I lay my head I am a happier with my decision Because when I go to hell I am going Gangnam style With a wide range of emotions; Andante I just am going to marry me sugar daddy. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ The good life is not only about the money
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Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 6:19 PM UTC
I Marry My Sugar Daddy
I found you atop Namsan Tower, and locked my heart to your gate. My heart set free. I found you in Gangnam, Your style too infectious. I walk to your beat. I found you in a coffeeshop, The cake was sweet. Your barista was sweeter. I left you in the East, 6,000 miles between us. My Seoul. -trj
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Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
Home
And I know I said it a million times a sensible girl like that just pretending that we’re cool. So tonight it’s for the best you didn’t listen. And me, falling for it screaming that I’m right when I still see it all in my head; but the grass ain’t always greener on the other side. I’ve drowned and dreamt this moment; eyes on fire and they burn from all the tears; so I’ll be on my way - we don’t even have to try. Let me know all your giving me is fiction looking for some trouble tonight. And so I tell myself that I’ll be strong, I wasn’t finished dreaming, about your lips. How can you understand something that you never had? [Maroon 5 - One More Night, PSY - Gangnam Style, One Direction - Live While We’re Young, fun. - Some Nights, Taylor Swift - We Are Never Getting Back Together, Taylor Swift - Red, Justin Bieber - As Long As You Love Me, Adele - Skyfall, Pink - Blow Me One Last Kiss, Alex Clare - Too Close, Owl City - Good Time, Flo Rida - Whistle, Neon Trees - Everybody Talks, ke$ha - Die Young, Ellie Goulding - Lights, Chris Brown - Don’t Wake Me Up, Ne-Yo - Let Me Love You]
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Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
Top 17
I take my knowledge from architects, medieval painters and galore. I walk along the stretch of times, Read the Canterbury Tales from folks of yore. I've written literature in my own dialect, through the beautiful English language. I find awe in the act of creation, new etymologies where old writers anguished. My words: symphonies of the beloved and dead Beethoven; like the arias of Wagner. I am the high priest, the new catholicicist propogandising as your Cardinal. I am the spiritual technology, provided to the ailment of what we call society. I am the new Ghandi, the Dalai Lama deservedly inspiring your piety. I am the Luciferous angel of life, breathing heaven through the cesspool of Earth. I am the post-modern Romeo and Juliet, Warhol's 15 minutes of fame and worth. I am the Alexander Mcqueen, the metaphilosopher of fabric illusions. I am the lyricist of society, speaking through the castrated eunychs. I am Stephanie Myer, inspiration of vampiric genius to adolescent impressionables. I am Jane Austen, author of new age thrillers such as The Secret and Lesbian Misérables I am the eclipsing of twilight, the post-mortem autopsy of a rotting cadaver. I am Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, legends inspiring a race of sleeping pill grabbers. I am the Blockbuster, the Titanic Avatar, $4.9 Billion to children in poverty. I am Gangnam Style, 2.5 Billion viewers of the Palestinian Bombings. I am modern philosophe, the birth giver of Socrates, Plato, Nietzsche, Derrida. I am Steve Jobs, terrible father, tyrant and billionaire technological reliever. I am God, the predeccesor and successor of all eternal life. I am Satan, damnation and strife. I am Tupac, rapper of gangster warfare. Inspirational to first world degenerates. I am Oprah, most powerful black woman with white hillbilly aesthetics of Ellen Degeneres. Thank you, to world's only true Genius. Hail Kanye West, our one and only revered Yeezus.
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May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
I am the next Shakespeare, inspired by Kanye West.
I take my knowledge from architects, medieval painters and galore. I walk along the stretch of times, Read the Canterbury Tales from folks of yore. I've written literature in my own dialect, through the beautiful English language. I find awe in the act of creation, new etymologies where old writers anguished. My words: symphonies of the beloved and dead Beethoven; like the arias of Wagner. I am the high priest, the new catholicicist propogandising as your Cardinal. I am the spiritual technology, provided to the ailment of what we call society. I am the new Ghandi, the Dalai Lama deservedly inspiring your piety. I am the Luciferous angel of life, breathing heaven through the cesspool of Earth. I am the post-modern Romeo and Juliet, Warhol's 15 minutes of fame and worth. I am the Alexander Mcqueen, the metaphilosopher of fabric illusions. I am the lyricist of society, speaking through the castrated eunychs. I am Stephanie Myer, inspiration of vampiric genius to adolescent impressionables. I am Jane Austen, author of new age thrillers such as The Secret and Lesbian Misérables I am the eclipsing of twilight, the post-mortem autopsy of a rotting cadaver. I am Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, legends inspiring a race of sleeping pill grabbers. I am the Blockbuster, the Titanic Avatar, $4.9 Billion to children in poverty. I am Gangnam Style, 2.5 Billion viewers of the Palestinian Bombings. I am modern philosophe, the birth giver of Socrates, Plato, Nietzsche, Derrida. I am Steve Jobs, terrible father, tyrant and billionaire technological reliever. I am God, the predeccesor and successor of all eternal life. I am Satan, damnation and strife. I am Tupac, rapper of gangster warfare. Inspirational to first world degenerates. I am Oprah, most powerful black woman with white hillbilly aesthetics of Ellen Degeneres. Thank you, to world's only true Genius. Hail Kanye West, our one and only revered Yeezus.
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This is how the world bends, We'd found trends, Before we found friends, Received emails before we even hit send. Attached Emails to feelings, As though catfishers aren't reeling, The world became their ceiling, And made nonsense into meaning. We had transcend, To only ever depend, On online content, To feel content. In a radius of one hundred miles, Everyone knows of Gangnam Style, But it doesn't stop at videos, Youtube is but one in the rodeo. Between Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter Bullies flushed lives into the ******* Humans became anything other than critter, As they coated insults with stickers and glitter. We leapt to Omegle in search of fate, In the form of company or a date, But stumbled onto smeared words of hate, And dudes who liked to ********** STOP! LOOK AROUND YOU! The trees are green, The skies are blue, Feel the fresh air of the scene. We are all connected, Raising populations of infected, Of a rampant infection, Known as the internet connection.
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Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
Connection Infection
A hostel, somewhere in Gangnam. It was around 10, possibly 11 hot chicken in a box, and a man holding it. A small man thin shouldered, narrow faced chicken ***** He wore a light green vest or rather, it wore him. And each leg being 10 kilograms each wing, about 8 and upon later inspection, there were 5 legs and 3 wings thus 74 kilograms, plus the box, then 76 kilograms and that that was the weight of his world, which he carried. ... Her name is Soo-Ae, he said. She is in the first grade and can tie her shoelaces, all by herself Ding, the elevator. The chicken stepped inside, and so did the man. Her name is Min-Ju, he said. She graduated 3 years later, but I waited. For her, I could’ve waited 3 hundred. … (Room 3 hundred three, right?) (Yes.) 3 hundred, 3 hundred one, two, and three. ... But sometimes, just sometimes, you see, shoelaces can tangle badly like umbilical cords I’m sorry, Doctor Lee had said as he held her hands, shaking hands shaking hands, shaking Poor Min-Ju, he said. Poor Soo-han, he said. … (Beer?) (Uhm. Any green stuff?) (Yes.) (Thank you.) (Here, I’ll pour you.) (Thank you.) … Most of the time, Soo-Ae unties them herself, or asks me like, like Appa? swig (one.) but did you know, he asked that the moment that a father gets depressed is not the moment that he realizes he cannot do it, but is the moment that he realizes he must tell his daughter that he cannot do it, and watch, helpless, as half the lights in her eyes flicker and die out. swig (two.) Poor Soo-Ae, he said. Poor Min-Ju, he said. Poor Soo-han, he said. (Pour me. yes that’s good.) … And and when your hands start shaking, like, like shaking, they become hard to untie, those knots. and everything. Soo-Ae is no longer in the first grade, and no longer wears ribbons in her hair. Sometimes coming home very. late. Where were you? **** off, you drunk. Poor Soo-Ae. Min-Ju is no longer three years younger, And stays in bed, staring years. Sometimes waking screaming sobbing. Where is Soo-Han? I hear him crying, where is he? Poor Min-Ju. … Sometimes, big knots become smaller, and smaller and that’s when you know your life is over, or that it’s time to get new glasses, at least. and the liquor stopped. ... Do you know what happens when a knot cannot be untied? he asked My bleary eyes went from liquor, to cup. And finally, to my father’s hand. … You cut it? ... No, he said. ... You keep on trying, whether it takes three hundred years, or three hundred and one, or three hundred and two, or three hundred and three. You keep on trying. swig (three.) ... And that night, at a hostel somewhere in Gangnam my father. thin shouldered, narrow faced chicken ***** wore a sad expression, or rather, it wore him. my father. ... My poor, poor father.
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Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
BU (for father)
A hostel, somewhere in Gangnam. It was around 10, possibly 11 hot chicken in a box, and a man holding it. A small man thin shouldered, narrow faced chicken ***** He wore a light green vest or rather, it wore him. And each leg being 10 kilograms each wing, about 8 and upon later inspection, there were 5 legs and 3 wings thus 74 kilograms, plus the box, then 76 kilograms and that that was the weight of his world, which he carried. ... Her name is Soo-Ae, he said. She is in the first grade and can tie her shoelaces, all by herself Ding, the elevator. The chicken stepped inside, and so did the man. Her name is Min-Ju, he said. She graduated 3 years later, but I waited. For her, I could’ve waited 3 hundred. … (Room 3 hundred three, right?) (Yes.) 3 hundred, 3 hundred one, two, and three. ... But sometimes, just sometimes, you see, shoelaces can tangle badly like umbilical cords I’m sorry, Doctor Lee had said as he held her hands, shaking hands shaking hands, shaking Poor Min-Ju, he said. Poor Soo-han, he said. … (Beer?) (Uhm. Any green stuff?) (Yes.) (Thank you.) (Here, I’ll pour you.) (Thank you.) … Most of the time, Soo-Ae unties them herself, or asks me like, like Appa? swig (one.) but did you know, he asked that the moment that a father gets depressed is not the moment that he realizes he cannot do it, but is the moment that he realizes he must tell his daughter that he cannot do it, and watch, helpless, as half the lights in her eyes flicker and die out. swig (two.) Poor Soo-Ae, he said. Poor Min-Ju, he said. Poor Soo-han, he said. (Pour me. yes that’s good.) … And and when your hands start shaking, like, like shaking, they become hard to untie, those knots. and everything. Soo-Ae is no longer in the first grade, and no longer wears ribbons in her hair. Sometimes coming home very. late. Where were you? **** off, you drunk. Poor Soo-Ae. Min-Ju is no longer three years younger, And stays in bed, staring years. Sometimes waking screaming sobbing. Where is Soo-Han? I hear him crying, where is he? Poor Min-Ju. … Sometimes, big knots become smaller, and smaller and that’s when you know your life is over, or that it’s time to get new glasses, at least. and the liquor stopped. ... Do you know what happens when a knot cannot be untied? he asked My bleary eyes went from liquor, to cup. And finally, to my father’s hand. … You cut it? ... No, he said. ... You keep on trying, whether it takes three hundred years, or three hundred and one, or three hundred and two, or three hundred and three. You keep on trying. swig (three.) ... And that night, at a hostel somewhere in Gangnam my father. thin shouldered, narrow faced chicken ***** wore a sad expression, or rather, it wore him. my father. ... My poor, poor father.
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